Disclaimer: Saiyuki is mine only in my dreams… sigh… reality sucks…

A/N: Hello minna san! Thought I'd abandoned this fic? Nah… I always try to finish what I started… LOST just got lost in the clutter inside my chaotic mind... I just found it again tonight… oh well… Thank ever so much for all the reviews! Hope you'll review this one… i still love 8338...

to answerpast reviews...if the reviewers are still reading:

To Rasinah, Water Sprite, and Lala thank you!

To Liz: errr... well part of your question is answered here...

To Akito-kun: it okay... i don't get myself most of the time either...

Here goes...

LOST

By Kage Kurokawa

Chapter 02 Darkness Falls

Blood. There is blood on his hands.

It's been so long since he saw blood dripping freely on his long slender fingers.

It felt so good.

So exhilarating.

So free.

It's been ages since he had felt the crimson liquid bathe his body, soaking through his clothes.

He can still hear their screams. He savored their agony. He looked deep into their fear filled eyes, as they realized their impending gloom. How soft they felt as his sharpened claws dug deep into their pliant flesh.

So weak.

So pathetic.

It was almost beautiful.

They had been so trusting.

So warm.

So helpful.

Didn't they know that a random, disheveled, weary strangers knocking on the door at a house in the middle of a forest deep into the night is quite suspicious?

Well, humans are so fallible.

It had been too easy, he was almost bored. Almost.

The old man was a bit dubious at first. But then of course seeing such a helpless-looking man, all worn out and injured, with such a pretty and wholesome face he just had to help. After all he couldn't leave this poor stranger to the mercy of those evil and merciless youkais.

His wife had been charmed almost on sight. Her heart went out at the sorry state that their midnight guest was in. She fretted over the handsome green-eyed stranger, bringing out the water, cleaning his wounds, despite the fact that she had just been woken from a fitful sleep. He was fed and clothed.

He should feel guilty.

Should.

But not quite.

He is a hunter. And they are his prey. It is a law of nature that they should die. Not that they had many years left anyway. They were bound for the afterlife. He just showed them a shortcut.

He licked his bloody hands clean before rummaging through the small hut. It place was sparsely furnished, but there are some salvageable stuff. He started towards the bedroom.

He found a small chest by the foot of the unmade bed. It contained the husband's clothes.

He inspected the articles of clothing, and frown a bit.

The old man's clothes are quite loose. And they are short. At least they are clean. They'll just have to do for now.

He casually walked into a small bathroom and shed his shabby clothes. The remains of the tattered green shirt fell first. Then the dirty khaki pants. Then everything else left.

There was plenty of water to go around.

Ah, there's a mirror here.

He peered at it with curious eyes. Not too bad.

His reflection stared back at him with green eyes and lips widening into a smile, fangs and all.

Humans would call that smile creepy.

He's got blood on his cheeks. They cover some small intricate markings on the right side of his face. They weren't visible before.

His brown hair is in a rumpled mess atop his head and onto his neck. Some are clumping together with the drying, blood.

His eyes are deep green, having a wild, sharp look in them.

He looks scary.

Chuckling, he moved on.

Examining his body, he noticed that he's got a long scar on his firm stomach, marring an otherwise flawless, lean, slim frame. Has it always been there?

He can't remember.

His skin is not dark. Not too light.

Noticing something that peeked out from the pocket of his pants he reached down to pick it up. It was one of the three clips that he had removed from his ear earlier. He got hold of the remaining two as well.

He remembered that soft, lulling voice that told him to take them off. That he will be much more comfortable when they are off.

Right now he felt that he needed to put them back on for some reason.

After staring at the silver metals for a minute or two, he replaced them back into their original position.

He felt a tingle on his face and saw the markings fade away gradually. Emerald green looked back with a more tamed look. The harsh smile turned into a soft charming one as the sharp fangs receded dramatically. His hear also seemed shorter.

His reflection looked so amiable.

So gentle. As if it was made to charm the hardest of people.

Perfect.

He still has blood on his cheeks, on his arms and on other parts of his anatomy..

He needs that bath.

Grinning, he turned to do just that.

As the soothing water did its job, he lapsed into a reverie of some sort.

Everything had been quite a blur. He had no memory of his life. He only knows that he exists. Nothing else. Over the passing of days he reckoned that he knew a lot of things. Like what that thing is called, or sometimes even why it is called that way. He knew the name of lot of things plants or animals or object. He knew about day and night. A lot of other information. But he cannot recall his name. Until this evening.

All this time he felt uncannily liberated. And there was this strong urge to tear apart something.

And tear things he did. It started with the plants. Then some insects.

Then it was a rabbit.

Then a fox.

Then a boar.

And now…

Ah. If only he knew why.

All he could remember was his name.

A name that he only knew this evening.

A voice in his head whispered it to him.

A low, hushing voice on the border of humming.

It said his name was Gonou.

His name was Gonou.

Cho Gonou.

That's what the voice said to him.

He is Cho Gonou and he is a hunter.

He must find himself some prey.

xxx

He breathes heavily as he was given temporary reprieve.

There was only darkness.

There was only pain.

There was only emptiness.

That's all he had known. For hours. For days.

Weeks? Months? Years?

Eons.

He has no more concept of time.

The silence that surrounds him is only broken by his screams when the pain comes.

Where does the pain come from? He wonders when his mind is coherent enough. That hot, searing ache that penetrates all the way to the marrow of his bones, where does it originate?

What has he done to deserve this?

Why him?

There are no voices. He had never heard anyone but himself. He could feel no presence. He felt utterly alone. But he cannot move his limbs. His hands are bound stretched out above his head by some thing hard. Likes he was chained. His feet bound together and anchored by something heavy he cannot feel any solid ground.

He feels blind. He does not know how to distinguish consciousness from dreams. Everything is pitch-black.

He had forgotten what its like to be hungry. He never seemed to have anything solid to intake. His thirst is only quenched by some bitter draught that seemed to rain on him every now and again. What is was, he couldn't tell.

What is happening to him?

The pain comes in varying degrees. Sometimes beginning from a dull ache or a cold breeze progressing sometimes slowly, sometimes abruptly into something burning hot like everything is on fire. Sometimes it would be as if he was pierced with hundreds of needles or even knives at a time. Sometimes the pain would be as if he was being cut open, at times as if he is being pulled too tight. Sometimes it's comes from the outside, sometimes from the very depths of his innards. Sometimes it's suffocating. Sometimes he's drowning.

He is broken.

His flow of thoughts is broken. His memories are now obscured.

His name was Hakkai.

That's all he knew.

That's all he could remember.

That's all that he could cling on to.

Oh wait.

There's also Sanzo.

It was often the word that he would shout out when the pain becomes too much.

Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo.

He thinks Sanzo is a person.

But his name is Hakkai, isn't it?

He is not Sanzo.

His name is Hakkai.

Who is Sanzo?

A gasp of pain escapes his lips as a wave pain comes back again.

Somebody please stop the pain!

But there's no one there.

No one's ever there.

It doesn't really ever stop.

It only retreats.

And prepare for fresh onslaughts.

He screams.

But his voice is lost sometime ago.

A long time ago.

There are only silent screams now.

And for the first time in all the seeming eternity that he was in this wretched place, a foreign sound reached his ears amidst the pain.

It seemed faint. But it was there.

A soft jingling of bells.

It faded a moment later.

Sanzo, Sanzo, Sanzo.

These were his last thoughts…

He falls into the void.

End Chapter 02

A/N: What have I done now? Ahh… forgive the cliffie… this took two and a half hours to write… I'm tired its almost three in the morning…

now that i've retrieved my plot... i'll update regularly every week or two

Hate it? Like it? Questions?

Please review…

Uh….

Are you still there?

Helloo?

Minna san?

Anyone?

Sigh… like anyone would read…

I'll just sleep what remains of the night away…

Ja.