And the doom continues. Slight language and MUCH bitchy Sanzo. Pondering the pros and cons of murder bitchy, actually.
The next morning, I wake up to sunlight, a cool breeze off the oceans tempering the late-summer heat, and Goku banging on the door. "San-zoo!"
I fold the pillow over my head, ignoring the revolver chamber that's jabbing my arm under the pillow. It doesn't help. "Sanzooo come on, it's time for breakfast!"
I growl, and sit up, staring at the far wall and the dresser for a minute. I have ten seconds to stand up before he starts yelling again, and I try to make the most of it; reach to move the blanket, then remember that I slept on top of it last night. It's too late in the morning for the baths to be quiet; I don't feel like going to the trouble of getting a bath brought in - it'd guarantee that whatever cigarettes I have stashed would vanish anyway - so I'm just going to have to deal with the main baths after breakfast.
I pick up my robe off the floor, get everything ready, and open the door to find Goku leaning on the wall waiting. He takes off staying a few feet ahead all the way to the kitchens, giving a running narration of what's different on the grounds lately, what birds are where, how run-in-circles he'd gotten by the monks for hanging around the martial arts classes, how-did-I-just-sit-still-all-day-like-that-had-I-fallen-asleep-or-something, and on, and on.
While Goku's eating, I hang off to the side with a piece of bread, picking at it without really eating; there's no sign of my charge anywhere, and noone seen him yet this morning. Goku catches up as I'm filtering around asking questions, offering with a shrug, "Maybe he's sleeping in?".
He gets ahead of me to the acolytes' cells, so at first I figure the low whispering is the usual disturbance caused by Goku's passage; then I get down the stairs to see him leaning in the open door. As I get close, he steps back out, scratching his head. "He's not here." When I reach the door, he continues, "It doesn't even look like his bed's been slept in or smell like he's been here for a while..."
Disappeared, again. There's almost a flutter of panic - did he find some new hiding-hole, or walk into something?
"Maybe he's sleeping outside somewhere - like I did when they stuck me down here until it rained and I sorta broke your shutters getting in? Though I don't think he'd climb up a tree like I did, at least, he shouldn't if he's still healing...Hey, where'd you find him last time?"
Trust the monkey's thinking out loud to keep things simple. "Back garden - we'll check there first."
As we're walking out, he starts up again, disrupting any attempt at thinking much. "I get it - you're worried about him 'cuz he might still be sick, or that he might hurt himself again, right?" I suppress a flinch; the moron's not psychic, but he's damn good at tripping over things.
"I'm supposed to be responsible for him. That's all." I give the last word the stress of finality. He turns walking almost backwards long enough to give me a look where I can't decipher if it's worried about me, worried about him, or just answering my blow-off with a disbelieving 'yeah, sure, whatever'.
He turns back to facing forward, crossing his arms behind his head. "If you're worried about him, you should just say so."
I glare aside at a candleholder, keeping the reaction to an annoyed, "tch."
"Well, on the bright side," he offers, dropping the needling, "if he is sleeping outside, at least it's not the rainy season yet, so it doesn't get that cold or wet at night yet."
Goku actually keeps quiet the rest of the way, sporadically falling behind to see which way I'm going before running ahead again; a few times he leaves the path entirely, taking to rows of rocks or lower tree-branches.
When we reach the little niche garden, he's there, asleep in the middle of it, curled up on the ground. I kneel next to him, brushing off a few dead leaves and bits of dried vine clinging to his hair and robe. He's flat out, and nudging his shoulder doesn't even get so much as a mumble.
"We should get him inside." I give Goku a few feet away a pointed look; he blinks, and rolls his eyes with a sigh, catching the implication.
"So where are we takin'him? He must not've wanted to sleep in his cell pretty badly, not that I blame him...", he asks, gathering up my sleeping ward so that he can carry the larger man without being too awkward; Goku doesn't even seem to notice the weight. He blinks with a sort of worried amazement, adding, "Damn, he's almost as bony as you..."
Besides whatever caused him to sleep out here..."My room's closer anyway, and there'll be fewer people in our way; it'll be quieter." I stand and walk out, Goku following.
"Yeah, the acolytes down there are pretty nosy. Has he been eating okay? I don't think it's good to be that bony, y'know. Course, I guess he's still recovering, right? He still kinda smells like blood even, unless that's normal for him or something, but...eh, probably nothing, he's been around blood a lot lately, that might be it too...and he's been blundering around all these thorns in the dark. Hey, how long do you think it'd take to talk them into getting him a better room if the acolytes' cells bother him that much? I know he's supposed to be being punished and all, but it won't mean much to give him that room if he won't stay in it, and I wouldn't stick a rat in those rooms, and it didn't take you long to get me my own room near yours when you started bugging them about it. Maybe just one of the other rooms, right? But it'd have to be something away from the stuffy ones-"
"Goku?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up."
He goes quiet with a mutter as we get out of the gardens to the main building. He stays quiet until we're almost to my room.
"Sanzo? You didn't eat at breakfast."
"Feh." I shrug and open the door.
He stops outside the door I'm holding open, giving me a sharp look. "You are gonna eat, right?"
"I'll go by the kitchens later." I wave him in, blowing it off. He walks in with a sidelong glare, setting my charge in my bed and pulling the blanket over him while I let go of the door; once that's settled, he faces me, arms crossed, tapping one foot.
"And you'll eat when you do, right? You'd better not be skipping meals until you pass out again."
I hunch my shoulders, leaning on the wall by the door and glaring right back. "I'll get something."
He glowers, catching the loophole, then storms to the door. "If I have to carry you somewhere 'cuz you pass out again, I'm gonna dump you in the koi pond!"
And pulls the door shut behind him with a resounding 'whumph'.
I'm left with a quiet vigil; he didn't stir once that I noticed the entire time he was being carried. He's breathing evenly and seems alright, he's just sleeping like the dead. I catch myself with one hand curled in front of my face in a gesture of habit; the big window's open letting a good breeze through, and I'm not going anywhere, so I check the inner pocket of the robe - and it's empty. A second pocket in the sleeve is also empty, although my lighter, as usual, is right in the pocket it usually stays in. I've already emptied and put away everything out of my satchel; digging under some folded formal silk robes in the bottom drawer finds - nothing. The acolyte cleaning-fairies have been busy again. I've got no clue what it matters; for this to happen this consistently, one of the higher-ups has to be ordering them to make sure I don't keep any cigarettes stashed. One of these days, I'm going to have to booby-trap my drawers.
I pull out the chair by my desk and sit down, next to the bed. It's a bright day out, and sunlight streams through the window, reflecting off his monocle; I briefly wonder if I should move the eyepiece, but it doesn't seem to be bothering him, and if he's passed out this thoroughly, he probably needs the rest - I'd rather not disturb him. There's nothing to do but sit here, listen to the birds outside, and wait, while the sunlight shifts angle until it's falling straight into the room, over the bed and part of the chair. After a while, I stand up and pace for a minute, then go back to leaning against the door.
The sun's been straight in for a few minutes when his eyelids flicker and open, eyes staring blearily at the ceiling.
"Why did you stay out all night like that?"
"Did I?" He seems to be not-quite focused on the ceiling, still half-asleep.
"Yes. I found you passed out this morning." I kick the temptation to let any irritation creep in; I've already been through something like this with Goku a few years ago.
"What time is it now?", he asks, still dazed but less aimlessly muzzy.
"Almost noon." I rub the bridge of my nose, fighting off sarcasm as he's sitting in the spill of bright, shadowless sunlight.
He flinches, sits up with a wobble, and fumbles with his eyepiece, taking a second to get ahold of it before he takes it off and sets it on the blanket, rubbing his eyes. He just pauses like that, holding still; the clouds in his aura go from dazed and hazy to coalesce back into the spiral, coiling inward.
"Why did you stay out all night?" No confrontation - all I need is a reason, I don't need him feeling threatened.
He folds his hands on the blanket in front of him, then...something, a shift, an upset in the spiral shrinking in, and he shudders and pulls his arms around himself as if the room were suddenly freezing. "I needed some fresh air", he quavers, and there's something major left out and skirted. He draws a few deep breaths, shaking slightly. "I guess I was more exhausted than I thought." A sort of forced calm struggles over his voice. Something got to him and it wasn't just stale air - with Goku it was a hatred of enclosed spaces bordering on claustrophobia; he's shown no signs of being bothered by enclosed spaces so far, was it the dark or just the oppressive atmosphere?
He picks up the monocle and puts it back on, then blinks blankly a couple times, looking around the room as if it's only just registered. "You..." He looks again, double-checking, then gives me a wide-eyed, quizzical look. "Brought me to your room?"
"It was closer than yours." And less hassle. And quieter.
He looks back down to the blanket, picking at it; his voice drops out into gloom. "You shouldn't have bothered." There's a brief, visible struggle to hide it, as if he's flinching away from what was just voiced; his tone flattens out. "I'm sure the other monks threw a fit. I'm supposed to be paying you the proper respect for saving my life, and I'm just being a bother to you."
The other monks didn't even really see us carry him in, but that's not really the important point. "They're not even a part of this. I'm responsible for what happens to you, and I'm not going to leave you in the cold like that."
That almost seems to startle him into looking up and meeting my gaze, caught off-balance; the spiral fractures out lost and confused, then lashes back inward, as he cringes, wrapping his arms around himself as if the room went freezing again. "I'm not worthy of your concern." For the first time, the dark spiral's plain in his voice, dark, quiet, soaked through with loathing turned inward. He tenses, pulling inward and away. It's as if he's turned all to fragile crystal-spun glass, on the brink of shattering, and I'm the wrong person for handling crystal, when one wrong word could break everything - but I can't walk away, there's noone else here.
"It's my decision who I'm going to worry about." No sarcasm. No veiled hostility, maybe less of my usual arm's length than I'd like, and - I did just admit it out loud, didn't I; there just went any denial that I'm worried about him.
He stops cringing so much, but it's less relaxing and more a defeated slump. The spiral's coiling into a strangling noose, shredding itself as it collapses inward. It doesn't seem to matter if I'm harsh, indifferent, or dragging out admissions that I care about him; everything I do just seems to cause him to turn more in on himself. Besides the promise not to walk away, I've accepted being specifically responsible for what happens to him, but nothing I do seems to be making any difference, besides preventing him from dying.
"I'm sorry. I won't stay out all night again.", he half-whispers; there's a quirk of something left out, barely caught through the rest of the roiling.
"You need to take care of yourself."
"Why?", another half-whisper, a slight wince.
"I didn't save you to watch you die." The words are detached, distant; as if somehow I'm no longer controlling my own speech, as if the dark little corners are worming their way into the open of their own free will.
Somehow, the roil snaps itself into the coiled-spiral; the shivering stops, and he's just staring down at the blankets. "I understand." His voice is either calm, flat, or shades of both, and it seems like there's nowhere else to go from whatever corner we've just unearthed, except back to the rest of the world, and the day to day worries.
"When was the last time you ate something?"
He blinks and starts. "I ate dinner.", he says simply, off-balance, and it's a familiar dodge if ever I heard one.
"Last night?"
"Yes." He turns suddenly, looking at me, and the balance shifts back away from me. "When was the last time you ate?"
It's my turn to flinch; I'm never going to get away from this today, am I? I look away at the floor. "Yesterday."
I'm preparing for the lecture, but all he does is stand up and start straightening his robes and dusting off, composing himself, his entire demeanor and tone of voice suddenly changed to calm, composed, and politely friendly. "I'm sorry, I'm being lax in my duties." He does a perfect formal bow, and then looks at the door, clear intent to leave; I unlock it and hold it open. "I will return as soon as I can; it may take a while to find what you asked for."
"Thank you.", I mumble, staring at the floor, trying to make sense of where this new and very sudden shift came from. He bows again, smiling, and leaves, and it isn't until several minutes later that I catch up to what just happened.
Some order came out of the spiral, and I'm not sure what to make of it. He's stopped snarking at me. He seems to have decided he's going to take responsibility for me. Lax in his duties - find…that subject…
He's going into town.
I have a sudden and very visible twitch. Then, I'm down the hall headed to the gates.
When I get there, there's no sign of him; at first I wonder if I beat him out, and start scanning the courtyard to see if he's around, then I notice the gate guards giving me odd looks. I ask the nearest one, "Has...?", with the same set of charades from the other day; he nods, with an expression between confusion and something wrong.
"Yes, he just left - he said you'd sent him on an errand."
He went into town. Nothing will come of it if he sticks to the busy market squares, and technically he is doing what I told him to, but - I scan the courtyard again for Goku, to send Goku with him, but the boy's nowhere to be found. Sending one of the guards to accompany him will defeat the purpose. Going out myself will draw attention, moreso than he probably will on his own.
"Was this the truth?"
"Yes. Yes, he is on an errand I'd requested." Half-accidentally, but I did.
"Then is there a problem?"
If I say yes and don't explain, I'm going to get him into trouble. If I say yes and do explain, there'll be noise raised and people sent out. "No."
I turn around and walk back to the main building, trying not to look to much like I'd just gotten confused. Not far in, I catch sight of the Constable-Intermediary headed for one of the smaller rooms usually reserved for quiet study and meditation.
I tail him, following him in; he doesn't even notice until the door clicks shut. He stiffens, quickly guessing that he's just walked into a trap. He does a quick double-take over his shoulder at the door to confirm that it's me, then turns with a dejected, resigned short bow.
"Is there a problem, Honored Sanzo?"
"I just wanted to amend what I'd said before - there's some specific things I want you to keep in mind."
"And that would be, Honored Sanzo?" He's running up a sort of white flag already.
"Just to make sure that certain parties who are likely assuming his death was literal, don't realize it wasn't."
He sighs, as though he'd been expecting it, then a wry, stressed-out chuckle escapes. "You think I'd want them realizing that?" At my lapse into a dumbfounded pause, he continues. "You know the laws they work under as well as I do. They haven't meddled because they believe he's dead; I was assured that if that were not the case, they would respond as per their usual customs of retribution."
The realization of what that would mean dawns cold. "Return the injury in kind, then go beyond that to warn anyone from doing anything like that again." Kill him, then kill anyone connected to him, anyone aiding him, seeking blood for blood until it's even. The temple's sheltered him. "They'd try to wipe out the Temple of the Setting Sun."
"It's not that I lack respect for the better martial artists here, but if t they attempt that, they would be on our doorstep before the city guard realized there was a problem, and there would only be three people here I'd expect to be able to do much to defend this place - you, Goku, and him. That is assuming, of course, that it remains an isolated incident, which I doubt. For my part, I've already assured them that he is dead, and they're not fond of being lied to - I've been trying to maintain enough distance to believably claim ignorance."
"Shit..." I bury my face in my hands, rubbing my temple.
"Please tell me you'd thought of that and have this planned?"
"I've already explained him as a random disciple picked up on the trip. We stick with that until I can find a place for him to go, and get him out of their way."
He shifts uncomfortably. "I suppose that's the best I should've expected. Are you really going to keep him here a thousand days?"
Especially with this reminder? "Hell no."
"Well then - whenever you see fit to call the council to cut the sentence short, you'll have my vote." He hasn't lied or dodged my questions once; this has him honestly scared.
"Alright. Whatever." I turn the handle one-handed and slip out.
I pace the courtyard for a while, far enough from the gate to not draw the questions of the guards, but within sight of it. The more agitation creeps into my pacing, the more odd looks and whispers I find myself shrugging off and trying to ignore. Finally I just sit, hunched over, on the edge of a raised garden area at the base of a tree, watching the gate.
I'm there long enough to almost start falling back into fretting when Goku perches on the edge next to me, after coming through the bushes behind me. He's got some kind of pastry, and I'm not even going to bother asking where he got it. He leans forward until he's more than in the edges of my peripheral vision, then when I don't acknowledge him, he shrugs and sits down, eating. It's some kind of small meat pie, so I know it didn't come from the temple.
"Still sneaking out?"
He freezes, trying to figure out if he's in trouble or not.
"If it comes up at all - Cho Gonou is dead, and my new acolyte is someone else."
The confusion drops into an offended look. "Well DUH!" He glances back and forth, then lowers his voice. "Of course I'm not going to go blabbing about that when those creeps might be around! That was the whole point of the symbolic death thing, to throw them off the track, right?"
I catch myself chuckling dryly in spite of myself. "Town quiet?"
Goku rolls his eyes. "It's market day. It's never quiet on market day, there's too many people and too many merchants and travelers and things from all over for it to be quiet."
"The other kind of quiet."
"Oh. Yeah, nothing's going on that way." He leans forward again, then tracks the point my gaze hasn't moved from. "Why are you watching the gate? Are you expecting someone?" He studies the gate hard again, and my face. "...wait, I thought he wasn't supposed to leave the temple..."
"He's on an errand." Flat voice.
"So that was him."
I look away from the gate to him. "You saw him!"
"Well...maybe not, I dunno, but most of the people in robes have shaved heads, I just figured it probably wasn't him 'cuz he's not supposed to leave, and it was the middle of the square so it was kinda hard to keep track of things and smells get all confused so I'm still not sure, but yeah, I think it was, if he went into town. Why'd you send him out like that all of a sudden if he's not supposed to go out? Aren't the stuffy people going to get angry about that? Is it really a good idea for him to go out like that, if you're worried about them going after him an' don't want them knowing he's still alive?"
In a rare event, Goku actually recognizes the beginning of a twitch, and shuts up, returning to the meat pie and edging a half-inch away. There's a few minutes of silence after it's gone, both of us watching the gate, before he starts up again.
"Well...it looked like he wasn't really wandering off - an' he can probably take care of himself pretty well, right? I mean, if any of them try to harass him, I think I'd feel sorry for them." Silence, birds chirping. "Sanzo? Have you eaten breakfast or anything since this morning?" I hunch forward a bit more, and he starts glaring at me in dull annoyance. "When was the last time you ate, anyway? You're going to pass out again at this rate, or make yourself sick!" My only response is to glower at the gate, and his irritation spikes.
One second I'm sitting hunched over on the ledge, the next I've been shoved off it so that I almost stumble over into the paving stones. "GO EAT! I'll keep an eye out for him and go looking for him if he's not back in a few minutes, you need to take care of yourself," he ducks the fan thrown at him without even missing a beat, "an' if you don't go eat something, I'm going to drag you to the kitchen and sit there until you eat something!"
There's a staredown as he's glaring at me, standing on the ledge, I'm glaring back, and the normal courtyard traffic has stopped and is all watching us. Neither of us is yielding, until finally I turn away, and dust off my shoulder. "You'd better keep an eye out for him while I'm inside." I storm into the temple; he's not following or saying anything, so he must not've caught that I didn't say I'd eat.
The first place I try to head is actually the baths, but I'm barely inside the main building when there's a call of "Honored Sanzo!" behind me and one of the older monks is hurrying to catch up to me. I just stop as he jogs up, leaning on the wall behind me to catch his breath.
"Yes?" I slowly look over my shoulder with a warning glare.
"There was...something...I meant...to discuss with you."
Oh. Joy. "And that is?"
"The boy - Goku - you're not considering naming him your successor, are you?"
I turn around, to better glower down at him as he's regaining his composure. I wouldn't stick Goku with this job for anything, but it annoys me more that they seem to think they can dictate who I should pass it on to if anything happens to me. I bet the other Sanzos don't get harassed about succession as much, that the whole subject is some thinly-veiled plea to the Gods for me to bite it so someone less obnoxious to them can take the job. "What would make you think that?"
He almost seems tempted to edge back an inch, but holds his ground. "Well, it's just that, when Koumyou Sanzo was alive," -this idiot's dead- "he doted on you the same way you dote on that boy - it was always Kouryu this and Kouryu that," I will not kill him for invoking old ghosts and dead names, I will not maim another monk on temple grounds for being a moron, no wounding even, I keep any expression of how much he's tempting fate to a quiet hiss between my teeth and seeing if I can will his head to implode by glaring, "and you've always been so - ah - harsh on your students that it seems as though you don't have any other options under consideration, while you're often putting yourself in unnecessary danger, so I'm sure you should understand our honest concern with regards to your decision in this matter…" He trails off, waiting for an answer, as my ward walks up behind him, perfectly intact, carrying a partially-wrapped loaf of dark grain bread almost two feet long.
"I have returned with that bread you asked for, Honored One." It's oddly impressive, that he can sound that calm and self-abasing while fighting to avoid the expression of the cat that got the canary. Whatever he's up to, it's an excuse to get away from the blithering waste of space.
"Bring it to my rooms." The monk's still there, waiting with an expectant look; he probably expects me to hang around to 'discuss the matter'. I turn to lead the way back to my room, only giving a cold, "I will give your words the consideration they deserve.", over my shoulder, not bothering to try to cover that I'm blowing him off. I hear him sigh dejectedly behind me, and I'm sure the head of the temple will hear about this one. "Follow.", I add, directed at my ward. I hear him apologizing to the twit for the disturbance, then he catches up behind me. More than once on the way up to my room, other monks end up scattering out of the hallway ahead of me; I can hear the disapproving mutters in my wake. If any of them even tries to interrupt me, there won't be any attempts at propriety.
They stay out of the way until I've reached my room. I only stop to unlock the door, just leaving it open long enough for my ward to follow before I close and lock it. He sets the bread down on the small, round table off one side, and turns to face me, as if everything should make sense now.
"Why is there bread on my table?" If that was all that he went into town and gave me that heart attack over...
The smug only grows under the surface of his flat expression. "Ah, this bread is highly recommended for its delectable insides."
The sneaky bastard was true to his word and outsmarted the guards. "So that's how you snuck it in."
He reaches over, grinning, and pulls the loaf apart; it looks like the whole thing was neatly cut previously, as it comes apart cleanly, three ceramic bottles in hollowed out spaces in the bread. He sets the top half down, pulls the chair out, and steps aside, motioning me to it.
He's still being unpredictable as all Hell, but at least it's not always in ways that make things more difficult.
I sit down, with him watching expectantly. The bottles are plain and unmarked, white without even any tint to the glaze. I pull the stopper out and take a sip. Whatever annoyance he'd had over the request for alcohol, he must've gotten over it, since he brought back strong, sharp whiskey; I give it time to warm and settle.
"Try the bread.", he nudges.
I pull a piece off and study it, wary for any warning twinges, but the whiskey seems to already be deadening it into submission; I can't say I'm exactly hungry, but I'm not feeling sick thinking about eating.
It occurs to me then, that he'd left right after talking to me this morning, and if he spent his time getting the whiskey and setting up the bread for smuggling, he might not've eaten. I give him a prodding look. "Don't you need to eat, too?"
He shakes his head calmly. "I picked up something to eat while I was in town." He's telling the truth, but he didn't say he ate; I'm not sure if he honestly ate, or if he's using one of the same dodges I'm prone to. I could challenge him on it, but ... He's actually eaten in the last couple days; one missed meal isn't going to kill him, if he did skip it, and I don't feel like another confrontation if I don't have to. I shrug it off with a nod and start eating slowly, sipping on the whiskey whenever the knots threaten to return.
He stays watching, probably just to make sure I'm actually eating enough to be worthwhile, then quietly says, "There's something I have to go do."; the smug is fading tiredly.
I give him another quiet nod, and he slips out, the door shutting behind him.
I go on picking on the bread, rationing out the whiskey; I can't be sure when I'll get more. It's not that everyone who's nagged me about my eating habits doesn't have a point; I know bloody well that I need to eat, but it seems pointless to force myself when I know it's just going to make me sick without a drink. Given the choice between skipping meals and throwing up, I prefer skipping meals.
I stash the bottles in a desk drawer under some papers, where anyone getting in to clean isn't likely to look, put the loaf back together and wrap it on the dresser.
When I finally get to the baths, they're about empty, affording some blessed privacy for a change. The communal baths and the kitchen are the only places in the temple with running water; according to the records, when the pipes were built for the rest of the city, they'd wanted to disturb the temple as little as possible. For some reason, they've been allergic to anything like curtains or screens, although some of the corner stalls and tubs are a little less open, in the back. Few people come in the day, so it's not too hard to get soap and towels myself and slip to the back without anyone seeing. I snatch the back corner that's actually got a showerhead and some privacy, folding the sutra carefully within reach, and laying everything else nearby.
I actually get a few minutes of peace and quiet to clean up and relax. Then there's the noise of a couple other people - acolytes, teenagers - coming in trying to be quiet and failing. As usual for my luck, they end up over on the other side of one of the thin dividing walls from me.
"...ran the groundskeeper ragged after stealing almost all the berries off the north hedgerows; there was a scene in the south courtyard right before he went straight over the wall. Sometimes I wonder why they let him stay here, he's not even a student."
"He's Genjo Sanzo's ward; he goes wherever the Sanzo goes."
"Sometimes I wonder about the Sanzo, too." Just what I wanted to listen to. "How do we know he's actually the one the Gods ordained to carry the sutra?" I lean back against the wall under the still-running water, torn between leaving, trying to just tune them out, or letting them know I'm here.
"He has the red chakra mark, and he's been carrying it for years now…"
The really stupid one drops his voice. "The mark's not hard to duplicate, and he's not really a part of the temples himself - he's not Buddhist, he scorns the tenets and the Gods, and he's known to spend time around the criminal elements of the city quite a bit." Spend time around them threatening answers out of them and trying to keep them vaguely in line when I can't get rid of them outright. "He's injured students before, too." How ironic, for him to remember that when the thought's crossing my mind.
"…There was something I'd heard from someone coming in from the western frontier, that a few years ago he'd killed several priests during the plague in that province…" …Right. That. Of course the reports only mention my killings, not anything else about the incident. "…you don't think…"
There's something in the shading of the sense of nervous doubt with just a tinge of fear that...
They are not going there.
The pistol's next to the sutra, within easy reach without getting either wet; I pick it up. "If he's not the legitimate heir…do you think…" They're going there. I pull the hammer back with a distinct metal click. "Did you hear something?"
They're just close enough that I can get a clear feel for where they are from their auras, clear enough to aim so the two shots through the screen only come close without actually hitting either of them. There's two cries and total panic fits, followed by a very satisfying terrified dead silence as they're realizing who the only person in the monastery that carries a gun is.
"I think that if you two inconsiderate twits want to gossip, you should do it the fuck away from me where I don't have to listen to it.", I snarl, and shut the water off, drying and dressing hastily. "And if you really want to speculate about how I got my position, you can bloody well check the damn records instead of running off at the mouth like a couple of brainless barnyard hens, unless you really want to test whether or not I'm willing to kill other monks!"
There's a thin, quiet whimper of "…m-many apologies…Honored Sanzo…" as I pull the robe on; I drape the sutra over my shoulders and put the gun in the holster hidden in the sleeve as I storm out without even looking back.
Every day I stay here is another tick added to the probability of a homicide.
