: Perfect World :

Gensomaden Saiyuki

Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.

Rating: PG-13

Pairings: Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, some blood, language, shounen ai

Notes: Thanks for the reviews. I was pretty amused tosee people feel squeamish about the last chapter... but then, if I hadn't written it, I might be, too. But I'm glad I got that reaction; it lets me know I'm going a good job with that. So again: thank you.

Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.


Chapter Twenty-Three

He felt... oddly clean. And exhausted. Blinking, Goku let out a small groan before he sat up, cringing as putting weight on his right arm nearly made him fall back again. He managed to stay sitting, and when the throbbing behind his eyes finally faded to a tolerable level he was able to realize that his surroundings weren't what they should have been. He clearly remembered a forest, as well as a lot of blood and pain.

He was definitely been fighting last he recalled. How had he gotten here?

The blankets pooling in his lap were thin, but adequate for the mildly cool room. He glanced down, noting that their faded brown fabric matched the rest of the room's design well. The bed he was in looked to be a twin size, the posts and frame made of oak. A nightstand beside him matched the bed, as did the small dresser on the wall opposite of where he currently sat. The floorboards were of a darker wood Goku didn't immediately recognize.

The room was dark, but a sliver of sunlight slanted across his legs. Looking up, Goku noted the plaid curtains were pulled shut tightly, as though whoever had brought him here intended to let him get as much sleep as possible. Someone had to have brought him to this place; with his injuries he knew there was no way he could have made it to a town on his own.

But he didn't remember anyone bringing him. A small frown touched the boy's lips. Closing his eyes, he tried to conjure up the last thing he had seen. In his mind's eye he saw lush green trees, dim lighting, and a young woman manipulating wires with wicked skill. He remembered she had introduced herself as Sumi. He also knew she was the one who had caused all his injuries.

After pulling off his limiter he could recollect nothing but blind fury. There were no images to tell him who had come out the victor, though the fact he was alive seemed to be a good indicator on that. He opened his eyes again, looking down at his arm. It had been bandaged tightly; only the slightest bit of red had seeped through, so his wounds must have been tended to thoroughly. He was wearing fresh clothes, the torn fabric nowhere in sight. All the dirt he had accumulated from tripping and his battle with the goddess seemed to have been scrubbed off, though there were faint smudge marks here and there, as though whoever had cleaned him up had been wary of waking him.

His left hand had been bandaged as well, from the wrist to the middle knuckles of each finger. When he reached up he felt a coarse bandage on his cheek, and further inspection proved that every injury had been tended to. There was cloth wound several times around his leg; his entire torso from the waist to over his left shoulder was bound tightly. He felt almost mummified.

Glancing around a second time, Goku noticed something he had somehow missed before. On the nightstand there was a glass of water - it seemed fresh, since the glass was still cool when he brushed his fingers against it - and a small slip of paper. Realizing he was thirsty, Goku went for the water first, draining the contents eagerly. His throat eased the tightness he hadn't realized was there, and he felt even more refreshed. He quickly learned that grabbing for the glass hadn't been a good idea, though; he cringed when his shoulder throbbed in retaliation for the movement.

Then his attention returned to the paper. Slowly he set down the empty glass, picking up the parchment. He fumbled a little because of the bandages hindering his fingers, but otherwise had no difficulty picking it up.

It was a note, he realized. Squinting, Goku struggled to read the words. He hadn't read often, though he knew that somewhere he had learned how to. It didn't take long for him to get used to the scrawled words, but the brief struggle and quick adaptation made him wonder exactly where he had learned this skill.

'Grab some breakfast downstairs. The room has already been paid for. There is money in the drawer. Try to spend it sparingly.'

There was no signature, no indication as to who had written it, but Goku had a distinct feeling it was someone he knew back at the tower. He sighed, the note fluttering to his lap as he reached up with his good hand to rub his forehead. He didn't really want to go back to Konran Tower, but knew that he didn't have anywhere else to go, nor anything else to do.

He supposed the first thing he should have done was take a bath. Gingerly getting out of bed, Goku flinched when he had to put weight on his feet. He felt dizzy as well, as though he'd stood too fast even though he had moved pretty slowly. However, the pain was bearable and the dizziness passed, so he padded awkwardly into the small adjoining bathroom. There were two thick towels at the sink and a bathtub just big enough for him to relax in. He carefully started the hot water, and then set to slowly removing his clothes and bandages.

The extent of the damage made him cringe. Removing the bandages tore some scabs up, causing fresh blood to trickle down his body. It wasn't flowing as eagerly as it was during battle, but still fast enough to make him nervous. Goku hastily applied the bandages to the worst spots, waiting for the oozing crimson to stave off. By the time he was satisfied he wasn't going to bleed to death the water in the tub was nearly filled to the brim. Giving a small yelp, Goku quickly turned it off, cursing when that opened his shoulder wound yet again.

Five minutes later he managed to settle into the hot water without reopening anything serious. He flinched when the liquid stung his cuts, but gradually grew used to the pain. It hurt even worse when he tried to lean back against the side of the tub to relax, and suddenly pink was seeping into the water. He immediately decided that relaxation was not a wise choice at the moment, and picked up the soap with his uninjured hand.

It was certainly quite the task to wash himself. One arm had cuts as deep as the bone, which made moving it difficult and very painful. However, the hand on the opposite arm also suffered damage from the wires. In the end he used his good arm to guide his good hand. It was a very awkward, painful bath, with a lot of bloodied water sloshing out. As he slowly scrubbed himself Goku noticed a bruise under his ribs that he hadn't seen before. It hurt to touch, and it made him wonder how he'd gotten it. When he had been fighting Sumi she hadn't landed a hit on him; all she'd done was cut him up. A lot. But the bruise looked as though it had been made by a strong person, by a punch, even. Sumi had seemed physically weak, apt only with her weapon, so he knew she couldn't have done it. But then... who had?

By the time the bath's contents were soapy and pink from his use it was also cold. Goku fumbled for the plug beneath the water, finally pulling it and watching the sudsy fluids drain. He sat there for a while, shivering and trying to summon the energy to stand and dry himself. He wondered how he would have to go about that, then decided pat-drying would be the least painful. Or rather, drip-drying would be, but by then they wouldn't be serving breakfast anymore.

The towels, of course, got bloody as well, but he didn't bleed as profusely as the first few times, and without the water to keep his wounds open he was soon feeling up to limping back into the room. He was grateful for the foresight of whoever had dropped him off in closing the curtains. His hair still dripping (as he didn't dare try opening his shoulder again to dry it) and still naked from his bath, he opened the small drawer of the nightstand. To his surprise he saw rolls of fresh bandages there- apparently his rescuer had known he was going to remove his other bandages for some reason. Now he was positive it was someone back at Konran Tower.

He didn't dare let himself think it was Homura, even though it seemed the most likely.

Nearly an hour later he had his wounds successfully bandaged again. The towels had been abandoned in the bathroom, along with his new clothes. Goku hobbled back to grab the clothes, deciding to leave the towels. Hopefully the room service had some idea of his condition; otherwise someone was going to scream when the towels were picked up. Once he had carefully redressed he went back to retrieve the money.

Counting the bills quickly, Goku sincerely doubted it would be enough for even one meal. He knew he had an appetite that could put any bigger man to shame; once he had overheard Shien remark that it might have been because he had been locked up for five hundred years and thus his body was trying to regain all it had lost in those years. Goku thought it was a weird assumption and that it made little sense, but he had decided to just use that as an excuse anyway.

He would just have to be careful. His stomach rumbling, Goku managed to find a pair of boots - these looked oddly new, which puzzled him since he could remember his old boots hadn't been damaged in the fight. His stomach decided to protest again, and Goku quickly dismissed the information as unimportant. After pushing his feet into the boots he walked around a little, getting used to the new sensation before he opened the bedroom door and staggered down the stairs, into the dining area.

He received some odd stares for his appearance, but Goku did his best to ignore them. Tentatively taking a seat at one of the smaller tables, Goku fumbled with the menu with his bad hand for a moment. After a brief but frustrating struggle Goku managed to flip it open. He let his bandaged arm rest beside the paper so he could flip the pages easier. For some reason he felt unusually solemn- moody, but not cranky. Goku blinked, trying to search for the right word to summon up his mood, and when he failed he turned his attention back to the menu.

The whispering didn't get to him at first, but his ears couldn't help but prick up at the mention of "that boy." Goku glanced around; there were few children in the diner, and only one other person aside from him somebody would consider a boy. He tried to shrug it off, but his sensitive hearing still caught bits and pieces of conversation that made the hair on the back of his neck rise.

"Those marks..."

"Yes, no human could..."

Blinking, Goku slowly lifted his uninjured arm. The pads of his fingers lightly grazed over thin scab lines that wound as many as four times around his neck. He flinched; he hadn't thought to cover those with the bandages again. While his clothes had been replaced, they were simple jeans and a t-shirt, not the flame-stitched pants and half-mesh shirt he had worn before. The collar of the shirt didn't come up to his neck- naturally people could see the glaring red marks.

"May I get you anything to drink?"

The voice, closer than the murmurs, startled him. Goku looked up sheepishly, absently rubbing his throat. Moving his head slightly didn't seem to reopened the wounds. "Ah... Yeah, actually. Milk. In one of those big glasses."

The waitress nodded, her eyes flickering between her writing pad and his face. She did it so often that Goku became wary, though he decided to pretend not to notice at the moment.

"All right," she finally said. "And have you decided what you'd like?"

Goku thumbed the menu again, turning his gaze down to it. Suddenly he didn't feel as hungry as he had earlier. The whispers were making him uncomfortable and he wanted to get out of there. Unfortunately, he knew he would be kicking himself later if he didn't eat at least something now.

On the bright side, his sudden decrease in appetite was sure to help him use the money "sparingly" as the note had advised him to.

In the end he only ordered three family breakfasts, which made the waitress' eyes widen but her jaw didn't drop as it would have if he'd been up to his normal appetite. Stuttering, she gave her thanks, took his menu, and quickly scampered off. Goku hardly paid her any attention. He was too busy trying to ignore the talking around him.

To distract himself, he thought back on the fight. The bruise under his ribs still mystified him, but now that he was more awake and aware he was beginning to get an idea of what might have done it. While he couldn't recall what had happened once his limiter had come off, he was still sure he had won the battle. The scent had been there, though faint, when he had awoken- he had spilled blood. Ir had been a different, unfamiliar smell, one that was faintly metallic but sang of life. That was what all blood had in common to him, and considering he was alive and breathing right then, it must have meant he had killed Sumi.

But if he had killed her, who had stopped and brought him here? Even without reaching up Goku felt the familiar weight of the diadem on his head; someone had to have replaced it, possibly after he had somehow won a battle he couldn't remember. Thinking back on the note, Goku could safely eliminate Zenon. The man wouldn't have been nearly so polite in his writing. Hell, he probably would have even gone so far as to stay there until the boy woke up so he could give him a good verbal and possibly physical beating. Shien was a possibility, but Goku had a difficult time believing he would save him for any reason. The last option he knew of had to be Homura- but after their fight, he was even beginning to doubt that as well. Besides, why would Homura have followed him? They had been arguing loudly, horribly, and Homura had clearly been in the mood to be alone. Goku's absence should have eased the weight on him, should have given more room to think, if that was what he had needed.

So either way, Shien and Homura were both the most and least likely. The complexity of the situation made Goku want to kick something.

"He has golden eyes."

"Shh!"

The statement had been loud, and it made Goku stiffen. He knew for a fact golden eyes weren't exactly rare, and the further west one traveled the more townspeople seemed to know any and everything about demons. While many had misconceptions - it was impossible to escape those - some still had their basic facts and rumors down.

Homura had explained it to him once; that golden eyes were a sign of heresy. It was mainly something the gods dealt with, so word about heretics hadn't been spread as far in the lower world. However, rumors had to start somehow and somewhere. Some humans treated the golden eyes as a legend, not to be believed, while others took it far more seriously. Most towns Homura had taken him to had seemed oblivious to the sign of golden eyes, almost as though someone had made sure they would go through with as little incident as possible.

It seemed this was one of the towns Homura had purposefully avoided.

I'm not that different, Goku tried to tell himself, even as he was thinking how different he really was. He bore the golden eyes of a heretic, was infinitely stronger than most humans could ever dream to be. Most mortals couldn't summon a weapon to their hands no matter how hard they tried, and he had learned to do it with ease. As the humans around him were noting, most people would have been killed after having as many injuries inflicted upon them as he had experienced. He even had to wear a limiter to pass off as human- he knew that much about it, even if his other appearance was still a mystery to him.

With a start, Goku realized that the other appearance was very likely the strange "beast" he had felt in his head yesterday. The idea made him nauseas. He didn't want to be a monster, some sort of mindless killing machine. Monsters killed without regret, even people they loved and cared about. If he ever slipped and accidentally killed someone he cared about...

His dream of what Homura had deemed a sacrifice ritual somehow came to mind. Closing his eyes, Goku could see it almost as vividly as he had when dreaming- and that was unnerving. Most of his dreams would fade over a few hours time, sometimes even a few minutes, regardless of whether it had been good or bad. Yet this one he remembered with startling detail.

In fact he could even feel it; the tiled floor beneath his body, the coldness under him... he could see the writhing energy swirling and twisting over his head, shifting colors and shapes so rapidly it made him dizzy. The candles flickered around him. He felt that familiar presence, the one he couldn't put his finger on. Gold flashed behind his eyes, and he shivered.

Opening his eyes, he found people staring at him again. Attempting to pretend nothing was wrong, Goku tapped the table with feigned impatience. While he was beginning to feel fidgety, it didn't equate to his irritability in waiting for food.

The glimmer of gold from his dream bothered him. The memory gnawed at his insides restlessly, trying to tear a hole out through his back. Thinking too hard made the image fade. Within minutes Goku found himself sitting alone, frustrated, and simply bone-tired of everything that had happened within the past week.

Right then all he wanted to do was return to Konran Tower and do whatever it would take to make Homura forgive him. Staying angry at him was making Goku miserable, and he hated that. It made him less hungry, made him unable to focus on things he would normally notice, like the taste of good food, the delicious (and sometimes distasteful) odors around him, and the feel of someone's touch against his skin.

Resting his forehead in his good hand, Goku had to admit that he just wanted to go back to the tower - to go home - and curl up. On the bed. Preferably with Homura beside him, either sitting next to him and rubbing his back or actually lying next to him, his chin resting lightly on Goku's head as he did when they slept together.

I'm so tired, he thought, rubbing his eyes. He winced when the movement hurt his arm.

It took a while for the food to get to his table, but Goku had expected that. The first time Homura had taken him to a restaurant he had been immensely impatient (and had complained of hunger until Zenon shoved him out of his seat). Shien had somehow ended up being saddled with the responsibility to explain how things worked to him. (Goku suspected it wasn't because of Shien's incredible patience, but because when Zenon tried he had ended up boxing the boy's ears in out of frustration and Homura had been struggling not to burst out laughing.)

The whispers had finally died down, much to Goku's relief. That meant he could easily focus on his thoughts more- but upon attempting it he found all he could think about was taking a nice, long nap after making up with Homura.

He was childish, but Goku wasn't foolish enough to believe that all he needed in life was Homura. The man certainly meant a lot to him, enough for Goku to become jealous over him, but he wasn't everything. Goku also needed adventure, craved for challenges, and desperately wanted his Sun. It was a hard decision, actually... thinking about choosing between the man he loved and the Sun he needed to thrive in everything he did was so hard.

If only they could be one person, Goku thought wearily.

The scent of well-cooked pork reached his nose. Goku bit at his lower lip, trying not to squirm in his seat as plate after plate was set out before him. He barely even heard the waitress' terse thanks before she hurried off, moving to grab his chopsticks.

Like bathing, breakfast was an awkward and frustrating affair. It didn't take long before Goku decided to go the same route he had during his bath; he held the chopsticks in his good hand, using his good arm to guide it around. Picking things up with the chopsticks was difficult, since moving his thumb disturbed some of the wounds closer to his wrist. Where he had been able to shovel food into his mouth, Goku now had to move his hand inch by inch.

A sudden slam made him drop his utensils. Goku growled in frustration as they clattered to the floor; he really wanted to avoid leaning over if he could. The last thing he needed was blood staining the back of his shirt in a room full of so many people eating.

"I'm talking to the manager. We can't eat like this!"

"Good for you," Goku grumbled beneath his breath, trying to think of a way he could pick up his chopsticks without tearing open his wounds. His safest bet was to grip the edge of his seat with his bad hand; that way he could lean over and, at worse, hopefully only the slashes on his fingers would split again.

He started to do so, and an angry man's voice met his ears. He vaguely connected it to the voice that had startled him in the first place, and from that Goku merely grew annoyed.

"How can you allow him in here with us?"

Goku stiffened, having a sick feeling about who the man was shouting about. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath to calm himself before he tried to grab his chopsticks again.

"Sir, he is a paying customer-"

"I don't care how well he paid you! He's a demon- a heretic. Who knows how long it will be before he snaps like the rest of them bloodthirsty animals?"

Goku's eyes briefly flickered up and he caught sight of a red-faced man bellowing at a sturdy, middle-aged man who seemed to be the innkeeper.

The innkeeper shot Goku a nervous glance before he spoke again, his voice surprisingly reedy and thin for his stature. "While I understand your concern, I have been given the utmost assurance-"

"That he's an okay person?" The man was sneering now. "You say that after he waltzes in sporting those sort of injuries? I saw how he came in last night, carried by that man! He was bathed in blood, too much of it to be his own."

That did it. Goku's lips thinned as he gave up trying to retrieve his means of eating breakfast. With a grunt he righted himself. Not wanting everything to go to waste, he took a deep drink of his milk, not leaving anything but dregs before he pushed himself to his feet and hobbled over to the arguing men.

"How much?" he asked, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice. His presence made the customer jump, but the innkeeper merely blinked. "For the food and bed... how much?"

As though sensing he didn't want to cause a scene, the thin-voiced man gave him a sum. Goku pulled some bills out; they were slightly crumpled from his sitting down while they were in his pocket. Knowing the innkeeper was merely estimating, as he couldn't have known exactly how much Goku's total came to off the top of his head, Goku shoved more than was needed at him. There was enough left over for a small meal in the next town he came to.

Without bothering to give his thanks, Goku turned and exited the diner. He stumbled near the front door, just barely managing to catch himself. The wound on his calf ripped open despite his catch, and he flinched. Determinedly trying to ignore it, Goku stumbled on outside.

He didn't want to attract any more attention than he already had. As he limped toward the edges of town, Goku determinedly kept his eyes lowered. I'm not that different, he tried to think. It was difficult to repeat it over and over, even in his head. While he wasn't exactly above it, Goku still didn't like lying very much.

His journey back was going to be hell. He could only pray that he wouldn't come across anyone determined to fight him; in his condition, Goku wasn't sure he could handle it. Not that he would turn down a fight should one turn up- he was just tired, sore, and dizzy enough to realize he wouldn't stand a chance against enemies he had considered fairly easy before today. And he hated Sumi for that.

Considering the distance he had been from the tower upon meeting Sumi, Goku assumed that his journey back would still take a few days; possibly longer if whoever had rescued him had taken him for a town further away.

That was why it startled him when he looked up a few hours later. The sun was beginning to dip into the west, indicating it was early evening and high time he had something to eat. Goku was briefly wondering if he could make what money he had left last long enough. Then, finally raising his eyes from the dirt road, his wounds throbbing with pain and muscles aching, he saw Konran Tower.

Goku nearly collapsed in relief, weariness allowing his eyes to sting easier than they normally would have. He managed to stay on his feet, but couldn't fight the exhausted tears sliding down his cheek.

Thank gods... I'm home.