Crimes Committed, a saiyuki fanfic

: Crimes Committed :

Gensomaden Saiyuki

Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki. All rights go to Minekura Kazuya. No profit is being made of this.

Rating: T

Pairing: none central; mentioned Homura/Rinrei

Warnings: language, angst, massive Gaiden and Homura-related spoilers

Notes: Written for, and inspired by, Becky. Because we were contemplating various aspects of Homura's life and heritage, and somehow this piece came out.

As a warning, the style is vastly different from what I usually do. This is sort of a test, in that sense—to see if it's well-received at all. If not, then I still had fun trying it out. If so—well, I can't see myself sticking to it, but again; it was fun.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.

Heaven's laws were full of loopholes. Of course, such was true for any kind of monarchy. Had the laws not been upheld for centuries before, and had tradition not been so valued, it was more than likely the rules would have simply been changed.

But if nothing else, Heaven stuck firmly by their age-old laws. At times it could be commendable—but for the most part, it was merely sickening. Many lives had been wrung and ruined by their ridiculous laws; many more destroyed from the inside out simply because few gods understood the meaning of "consequences" anymore.

That was why she rarely interfered. That was why she watched. And that was why, Kanzeon Bosatsu grimly acknowledged, she couldn't do a damn thing about the situation.

"A half-breed?"

"Yes, your highness. Of the worst kind, I'm afraid."

"Is it healthy?"

"Unfortunately."

"This is preposterous. I refuse to allow such an abomination live in these walls."

"The mother is rather frail at the moment."

"Her punishment will come later. What of the father?"

"Dead. By outside forces, naturally."

"How strongly does the abomination's human blood affect what it should have inherited from its mother?"

"I'm afraid that remains to be seen, your highness."

"The laws forbid killing..."

"Yes?"

"Separate it from its mother while she's still weak."

"If I may, your highness..."

"Speak."

"I have a suggestion."

Void.

Had it not been for the weak flames flickering down the dank corridor, he would have never known the concept of light. As it was, he only dimly realized its existence. Faint as it was, the brief glimmers were useless.

Hopeless.

There were no windows. The idea of night and day was as foreign to him as the concept that he had been conceived. There was no difference between "tomorrow" and "yesterday." For as far back as he could remember, all his emotions had bled into each other; mingling until one was unrecognizable from the other. Perhaps this was what many called apathy.

Unchanging.

He always found himself curled into the darkest corner of his cell. From the safety of the shadows he could watch and observe. The guards rarely spoke, and even less often about him. On the occasion they did, it was unkind. Nobody gave him the comfort of kind, empty words—and for that he was grateful.

Full circle.

"How long will it take for it to die?"

"It's difficult to say."

"It is taking too long. Perhaps we should call on the War Prince…."

"If only we could."

"Regrettably true. There is no valid excuse to kill him."

"Your highness, it's still a waste of guards to keep him where he is."

"We don't have any other choice."

There were times when the boy wished he could die.

"I've heard of you."

"..."

"My father was the one who put you in here, you know."

"Your father, is it..."

"My father is a fool, but that is no different from anyone else in the heavens."

"True."

"But he no longer oversees your condition. He has been promoted thanks to my position."

"How arrogant."

"Perhaps."

"You seem too old for your age."

"And you're far too young for yours."

"Am I..."

"That doesn't sound like a question."

"It was not meant to be."

"They want to know when you'll die."

"If I knew, then I would not be here."

"But your blood..."

"If I knew, I would not be here."

"You're eager to die?"

"I am eager to not exist."

"It doesn't scare you?"

"Does it frighten you?"

"A little."

"No, it does not frighten me."

"You're strange."

"You are not the only on who believes so, young War Prince."

How odd. Normally he was not inclined to visit prisoners. In fact, his father even forbade it.

And yet, Nataku found himself walking down the hall, striding as though he owned the palace. This was a manner that allowed the gods to mistake his attitude for arrogance. And, on some level, it may very well have been. He had a seemingly important title and, of all the beings in Heaven, only he was permitted to kill.

Yet his act was merely superficial, and only his own father seemed to notice. Pathetic.

Until he met the half-breed.

"It's been far too long. Why is it still alive?"

"My deepest apologies, your highness. I don't understand why it continues to breathe, either."

"The War Prince needs more backup, your highness. Continuing to force guards to waste time in that place is a waste of their potential and our need."

"What do you propose, Li Touten?"

"To set it free, of course."

"Preposterous!"

"What difference will it make? He is a heresy, and not even the War Prince. And all in Heaven know how filthy heresies are."

"What you're asking is too dangerous."

"If you look at my son, you'll see that's not really so."

"Perhaps..."

"Anyone who pities an abomination is a fool."

"Very well."

There was no difference between the cellar of his childhood and the room of his supposed adulthood. He was confined either way, if only metaphorically. Yet, to him, metaphors were all too real. The shackles binding his wrists and ankles were far worse a punishment than imprisoning him. Indeed, he often wished he was still underground. At least there, he was only faced with disgust by a select few.

And there, at least, he wasn't forced to see the glaring difference between light and dark.

Strange as it may have seemed, he found he preferred the darkness. Such a concept never deceived him, even with its ever-changing shapes and shadows. The light, while illuminating all, was still harsh and deceptive. Above ground, it highlighted everything in hues of brilliant gold, white, and silver—pure colors.

Yet all these colors did was disguise the ugliness beneath them. And he had no illusions: he knew he was the only one who noticed—and the only one who cared.

He had no idea he was so talented at deceiving himself until it was far too late.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"Why? Because it was my fault, of course. I'm the one who ran in to you."

"Did you... commit a crime?"

"I don't understand."

"I see."

"Oh... oh, yes. I suppose I did. I'm sorry."

"What crime did I commit?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Will you be punished?"

"I don't understand."

"Neither do I."

She was rare and precious to him. For the first time since he could remember, he wanted nothing more than the power to protect her. It was unusual enough for her to converse so politely with a heresy, but to genuinely apologize was plain unheard of.

He loved her.

Through her, he learned what crime he was being punished for—the crime of being born. His mother had been a goddess, one of royalty at that, but his father...

It was an unspeakable shame for a woman to bear a half-breed child. Yet one had, and thus his existence had been explained.

Many things she taught him hurt, but the pain was sweeter than the apathy he had suffered. He often heard of mortals who went through so much agony that they wished to experience blissful nothingness. For his entire life, he had believed the same. But once he had gone through the hurt emotions, had felt the stinging prick of tears, he never again wanted to lose sense of his emotions.

Even better was the tenderness that followed, when she would embrace him as though he were a child. Stroking his hair, whispering comforting words he had never before heard in his life, she completed him. He knew it should have been he, the man, who protected her. And yet...

If he lost Rinrei, he didn't know what he would do. He could only hope she could make up for his weakness and remain strong for both of them.

"I see."

"I'm so sorry..."

"It is no fault of yours."

"But even so... perhaps I shouldn't have told you."

"Death does not frighten me."

"But..."

"What is wrong? Rinrei?"

"I'm scared."

"Rinrei..."

"I don't want to die. I don't want you to die. I want..."

"I will protect you."

"I want to be with you. It's impossible, but that's what I want. I don't want to see you suffer anymore."

"I will never leave."

"But if you're not afraid of death..."

"I will learn. If fearing death will stop your tears, then I will learn."

He had been right from the beginning. He had never left.

But she had. By no choice of her own, yet still she had been the one to leave. He had lost her, because of his weakness; because he was careless. Because he had never realized it would be wise to hide his emotions—and that he should have learned to lie flawlessly.

He had lost her to death and rebirth, and he could never suffer the same consequence. She would die a mortal—and he would eventually die a hybrid abomination.

Though he had feared it before, suddenly it wasn't so hard to slip back into apathy.

"Another abomination?"

"Yes. Fortunately, your highness, this one was not borne in a manner that will disgrace the heavens."

"Who is overseeing this creature's punishment?"

"Kanzeon Bosatsu."

"Has she made a decision yet?"

"Well..."

"You hesitation does little to reassure."

"Yes, your highness. She's decided."

"And?"

"Its life has been entrusted to Konzen Douji."

Everything here was so different from what the boy was used to. The smells weren't as wild, didn't tease his senses as much; the colors were brighter yet not as rich; the rocks were smooth but cold and uncomfortable. And, of course, the restrictions on his limbs hurt.

But at least there was the sun. He found himself drawn to the sun, with its shimmering golden light; the richest color he could find in this strange new place. He longed to touch it, but the sun would strike out at him if he tried. Thankfully, there was a time when he had been given permission—and he had loved feeling the strangely soft sensation. This man even smelled of sunlight—powerful and warm and sweet under his harsh burn.

He liked the smells of all his new friends, really. The tall, dark man who seemed like a kind big brother always gave him the imagery of dusty books and cold blades—sweetly metallic. The other man, the one with wild hair and the strange scent about him the boy couldn't quite place, also smelled of the tangy metal, as well as a strange copper. And then there was the friend who was his own age, the one with the large eyes, big words, and whose scent reminded him of the copper scent his older friend had, except this copper was strong and teased his knowledge of it even further.

And there was one man who was not his friend, but seemed like he should have been—the one who smelled of flowers and moonlight on a sad, rainy day. The man with the mysterious eyes.

"Hey, mister, can I pick the flowers here?"

"Oh... yes."

"Thanks! Oh, hey, guess what; guess what? I have a name now!"

"Is that so."

"Yeah. It's Goku! What's yours, mister?"

"Having a name appears to make you happy."

"Huh?"

"Why do you believe having a name is so important?"

"Um... if you don't have a name, what'm I supposed to call you?"

"That is a good question..."

There were times when the man wished he could die.

"Is there a reason you would want to call out to me?"

"I don't get it."

"If you need to know my name, it is assumed you would use it to call out to me for one reason or another. Is there any reason or situation in which you could find yourself calling out to me."

"Um..."

"Are you in trouble?"

"Nuh uh."

"Will you be in trouble?"

"Only if I paint on Konzen's papers again. He didn't like that..."

"You are truly an odd child."

"Mister? Where're you goin'?"

"If it is truly that important to you, I will give you my name the next time we meet."

Power, he realized, was the key to everything. The Jade Emperor wielded the most power; thus why his word was taken as law. The pureblooded gods possessed powers beyond that of a mortal or even half-breed. Li Touten rose in the ranks of Heaven because of the power his son possessed and used.

And, fascinatingly, Son Goku held the most power of all.

The child had no idea what he held; he treated it all as a game. He was not aware others would try to crush him, because the concept would seem silly to a kid his age. He was far more immature than anyone else in the heavens, even the War Prince who was of his own age. And yet, it was this immaturity that allowed him to be stronger than anyone else—because he could act with reckless abandon and no mercy. Because, to him, it was just a game. Just a sport.

He couldn't help but watch and admire. The child batted and kicked other gods away with unpracticed, yet raw and skillful ease. And, despite the underlying seriousness of the situation, he was smiling; laughing, even. All a game. It was all a game.

Life itself was probably just a game as well.

He was surprised to find himself craving for that power. To believe you were invincible, simply because you were breathing... it had to be thrilling. Heady, even. And he wanted that. He needed that power.

Despite his promise, he did not introduce himself. He decided to watch and wait for the time being. When the opportunity rose, he would grasp it.

He had no idea how vastly his ideals would change.

"You've found a way to kill it?"

"Kill is such an inappropriate word, your highness. I have merely stated that, if put into motion, it would most likely force its immortality to deteriorate that much faster."

"As it is now, it doesn't seem to have deteriorated at all."

"Precisely."

"Yet the position of War Prince is not open."

"Given time, your highness, I'm sure it will be. Abominations don't last long, you know."

When the title had been given to him, he had been shocked and angry. It was not a concealed fact that Heaven used only dirty beings to do their low work—such as killing. Only one god was given the freedom to kill; and yet freedom was an inappropriate word, because that god could only kill whomever the Jade Emperor decreed.

But the title of War Prince had to be given to someone. With Nataku in his comatose state, and the only other pure heresy locked away on the earth, who else was left to hand the title over to?

He never learned of the more sinister plot underlying his supposed promotion.

"And just what the hell do you want?"

"Calm yourself."

"I just want to know what he wants, damn it. I'm a busy man."

"I am sure."

"I must admit; I, too, am curious about this proposition you mentioned."

"I will only ask you two one question. All I require is a simple 'yes' or 'no' answer."

"Will you get on with it already?"

"Zenon, patience."

"Look—"

"Will you follow me into the depths of Hell—in order to create a new heaven and earth?"

"Need you ask?"

"What the hell kind of question is this?"

"Neither of you have given me the answers I have asked for."

"Goddamn..."

"Yes."

"All right, all right. Yeah. You got a deal."

He sometimes wondered if the world was the same now as it had been when his mother had given birth to him. He also occasionally mused over his actual birth—wondering if his father had been there, if he had been overjoyed. He even contemplated which parent he most resembled, as he had never met either of them. All he knew of his mother was that she was the Jade Emperor's kin, and that his father had died long before he himself had grown into a man.

Whilst watching mortals interact, even during the time of crisis, he still found him interest piqued by their mannerisms. Even with demons slaying mortals across the land, human life went on as though nothing had changed in many aspects. Love still blossomed, children were born, families fought and argued themselves to tears, and children grew into teenagers who grew into adults. Some things never changed.

He became infinitely sad when it took him over five centuries to find Rinrei's grave. But he never regretted a moment of the search, for it changed his outlook on power. Or rather, it changed his reasoning for wanting it.

And all the while, he never realized that the longer he stayed on Earth, the faster his time was running out.

"But sending it down there is like killing it with our own hands."

"Impossible. The research hasn't even been proved."

"If you must, look at it as though we are merely confirming the theory."

"Does its mother disapprove?"

"Do you?"

"I do not."

"You sound sad."

"You are imagining things."

"Your eyes are wet."

"I have not slept in nearly two days. Are we quite finished?"

"We will contact you if he passes away."

"Do not bother. I am sure I will know."

"Oh?"

"Mother's intuition. A mother is always connected with her baby—whether he is an abomination or not."

Every breath he took was poison. Each step he walked was a nail in his foot. And every word he uttered had the potential to be his last.

Half-breeds cannot survive on mere mortal air.

"Your right eye... why is it like mine?"

"It was once said, long ago, that golden eyes were a source of fortune."

"What?"

"It was also hidden from those who brought that fortune, that the fortune could be either good or bad."

"You're not making any sense! Who the hell are you, anyway?"

"It is not surprising you do not know my name—but have you truly lost all your memories, Son Goku?"

"You bastard!"

"I prefer to be addressed as the War Prince Homura."

"War Prince...?"

"A shame. Even the title escapes your memory. What the gods have done to you is truly a terrible crime. Much more terrible than the one you committed."

"Who are you?"

"You sound frightened."

"I'm not!"

"I have already told you who I am."

"But how do you know these things?"

"How do I know? It is truly a mystery, is it not?"

"You damn..."

"You seem tense."

"I'll kill you if that's what you want!"

"Oh? In that case, attack me. Come at me with everything you have... and be prepared to die as consequence."

Anyone who dies on Earth is a truly fortunate soul, decided Kanzeon Bosatsu. Though it had saddened Homura when Rinrei had passed on as a mortal, she had done so in living her new life to the fullest. In that sense, she had died happy. And then he, the War Prince himself, had unknowingly died in a similar fashion: without regrets.

Only those left behind were saddened. And in some ways, that was the most tragic aspect of it all. So many lives had been touched because of his existence—and he would never know.

Ironic, she believed, because it had been he who had said what were possibly the wisest words to pass from a god's lips.

"It is better to be free on Earth than slaves in the heavens."

In all the hypocrisies Heaven possessed, never were truer words spoken.