: Perfect World :

Gensomaden Saiyuki

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

Rating: R

Pairings: Gojyo/Hakkai, Homura/Goku

Warnings: AU-ish, angst, language, yaoi, lime

Notes: Again, I'm sorry for the extremely late update. If one needs explanations, my e-mail is easy to find, and I have two journals for you to peruse freely. As warning, regular updates aren't expected to resume until mid-July now.

Constructive criticism and feedback appreciated.


Chapter Twenty-Seven

It felt very strange to be driving away from the setting sun rather than toward it. They had spent the past several months heading west; turning abruptly east had been unthinkable before. Now there was a good reason to it—a damn good reason.

It was too quiet and tense, but Gojyo didn't dare say a word. Not with Sanzo in the mood he was in.

In fighting Goku, Hakkai had depleted most (if not all) of his energy creating barriers and attacks. Barriers had taken more out of the man, since it was harder to hold something solid than it was something less tangible. That was according to Hakkai, of course; Gojyo wouldn't know the first thing about it. Regardless, their healer had been unable to heal. The half-breed had ended up carrying both Hakkai and Sanzo to the jeep, and that had been a bitch to do with his broken ribs.

Due to Sanzo's broken hand, Gojyo had been deigned the driver that night. Knowing full well the priest was going to want to travel to Konran Tower anyway, Gojyo decided to find a town to the east, back where they had come from. They had arrived in town well into the next morning, their bodies and pride battered equally.

A town doctor had been able to tend to their superficial wounds. Thankfully, the man had asked no questions, though he must have been curious.

Sanzo, who had been drifting in and out of consciousness the entire ride to the town, had finally woken up completely as the doctor was tending to his broken hand. Gojyo knew because he had been asleep, and then had been woken by a sudden, piercing shriek of pain as the doctor had snapped one of the priest's bones back into place.

One of Gojyo's ribs had broken, two more above it cracked due to Hakkai's collision with him. Their healer had already been drained, and luckily that lack of energy had been the worst of the damage inflicted on him. It had been to the point Hakkai had had trouble focusing, even having difficulties staying on his feet—and he hadn't been able to sense things around him, because that required both focus and energy.

Along with his hand, Sanzo had also sustained a mild concussion after being thrown to the ground so hard. Out of all of them, however, Sanzo had been the one whose pride had suffered most. His scriptures had been taken right before his eyes.

So it was understandable that the first words Sanzo had spoken upon awakening had been a vehement, "I'll kill him."

There was no need to ask who "he" was.

Worst of all – at least to Gojyo – the three of them had had to share a room. Normally that would be unpleasant enough, but they had either been camping out or sharing a room since the last time Goku had come to visit Sanzo—just Sanzo. It wasn't unusual; typically they would sleep within the same vicinity rather than risk being spread too far apart.

But ever since his awkward slip that night, Gojyo had been meaning to confront Hakkai.

On one hand, he didn't want to. He wasn't sure he knew what he wanted to say. On the other hand, it was eating away at him when he allowed himself to think about it. For the gods' sake, Gojyo knew tact wasn't his strong suit, but to encroach grounds that had been an unspoken agreement the two of them would never tread upon was just plain stupid.

There was something between them. Gojyo was surprised to realize he wasn't entirely sure if it was just sexual, or if it went deeper than that. He doubted it was merely physical attraction; otherwise he wouldn't have cared what Hakkai had thought about his careless outburst.

But on another vein, he was reluctant to say they had an emotional attachment. Emotional connections led to commitments, and Gojyo was more than uneasy at the idea of a commitment. In fact, he was almost ready to say he was just plain scared of one.

Realizing where his train of thought was going, Gojyo frowned. Screw this, he decided in characteristic annoyance. Just because their relationship was ultimately in question didn't mean that he had to talk about those things now. All he really needed to do was smooth things over with Hakkai.

His long legs proved useful right then as he used one to nudge the passenger seat. Hakkai's head turned slightly, just enough for Gojyo to see the curve of his cheek and tip of his nose. It was enough.

"Sorry."

For a moment it seemed that Hakkai wouldn't understand, that despite his clever mind he would mistake Gojyo's apology as one for nudging the chair. But then he turned more, so that Gojyo could see the man's lips curving in a smile. While akin to his usual facade, the half-breed detected a hint of genuine warmth.

"Apology accepted," the brunette said. Hakkai's shoulders went lax, the only indication Gojyo had to realize his buddy had been tense.

And from his position, he could see the baffled expression on Sanzo's face. It wasn't open puzzlement, but the way the man's eyebrows were drawn seemed different than they had just minutes ago, the scowl on his mouth softening as his confusion seeped in to replace his anger. Though the priest said nothing, Gojyo was positive his and Hakkai's random exchange was going to eat at Sanzo's curiosity. So long as the man kept quiet, he would never find out, and he was too busy pretending he didn't give a damn about them to bother asking.

Gojyo smirked, sat back, and lit another cigarette.

-

East. They were going back east. If he hadn't been preoccupied driving, Sanzo would have shot something, anything. Maybe Gojyo. He was always a good target.

His fingers twitched uncontrollably against the steering wheel.

Despite his anger, he had a plan. It wasn't entirely rational, nor would it serve any purpose other than to alleviate his fury, but it was a plan nonetheless. After careful and considerable deliberation, Sanzo had finally decided that their course of action would be to go to Konran Tower as Homura had invited them to. Once he got the scriptures, he was going to beat Goku over the head, drag him all the way west, and once in India he was going to offer the kid as a sacrifice to whoever was running the revival of Gyuumaoh operation.

The idea was growing more appealing by the second. Sanzo was especially fond of the part where he would hit the boy over the head. Perhaps he'd use his gun, the one he'd had to retrieve the day his wounds had been wrapped. It hadn't been easy slipping out of the village, especially with Gojyo and Hakkai watching over him so annoyingly. He grudgingly admitted that they probably had had good reason to be wary of him, but that hadn't make it any less irritating.

Using the jeep, it had taken nearly half an hour to return to the fight scene. The fire had burned itself out sometime over the night; all Sanzo had seen as remains had been cold, dark ashes.

It had taken nearly two hours to find his weapon. The damn brat had thrown it several yards into the forest, and the rubber grip had been torn on the right side from its scraping impact with one of the trees. Sanzo had been quietly amazed that the Smith & Wesson had survived such a powerful throw, especially when he noted the large chip taken off the tree behind him.

Upon closer inspection, the weapon had also received other scuff marks. Dirt had started to settle into the cartridges, as well as various nooks and crannies. He had decided to clean it first thing when he returned to the inn.

Unfortunately, it hadn't been quite as easy. Sanzo had been amazed when, walking out of the forest, Hakkai and Gojyo were already in the jeep. They had followed him, though they claimed to have come for reasons other than concern.

Gojyo had then asked what their next course of action was. Without a word, Sanzo had driven back to the town, where they took time to recuperate. The second the bandages were removed from his hand, the group had finally begun to head east.

"Sorry."

Sanzo opened his mouth to snap that yes, he should be sorry. Before he could get anything out he realized that the apology hadn't come from the boy he was angry with, but rather Gojyo. Despite himself, he couldn't help but wonder where the hell that had come from.

As though hearing his thoughts and wanting to puzzle him further, Hakkai said he accepted the half-breed's apology. Things went quiet again after that, but now Sanzo's attention had been successfully diverted. Annoyance burned him, and he irritably wondered what in the world was going on.

He didn't ask; wouldn't ask. But that didn't change the fact he was itching to know. If nothing else, he'd probably just add that to his reasons to smack Goku. One hit for each time the boy somehow had caused him pain.

Sanzo's grip on the steering wheel relaxed.

-

While it was certainly better than walking, the jeep's ride wasn't entirely stable. The vehicle shook and rattled as they sped across the landscape. It seemed that any little rock or slight incline would jolt the passengers.

Of course, Hakkai couldn't say exactly what caused that. But he could make an educated guess, and he wouldn't have been surprised if he were to be proven right.

It was amazing what a few days of rest could do. Replenishing natural energy wasn't easy, but eating had helped immensely. Nearly every day during their recovery he had spent almost half of that energy healing Sanzo's hands. Bones were harder to mend than flesh wounds, which was why it required more concentration. However, waiting for Sanzo's hand to heal on its own only would have hurt them. Mostly him, of course, but overall it most likely would have only aided their downfall when they eventually confronted Homura's group.

Confrontation. A grim smile crossed his features momentarily. What they were going to do would amount to far more than a simple dispute. Their pride lay on the line, and this time they were either going to gain it back or die trying. That was just the type of people they were. All different, certainly, but they had that much in common.

Perhaps that much was enough.

-

The sky was full of clouds. Gloomy, gray mists of foreboding blanketed the darkness above them, blocking out any hope of star or moonlight. The sight wasn't beautiful, but it was strangely calming.

The elevator doors slid open, but Shien didn't even twitch. He knew who it was. Seconds later Zenon joined him at the balcony ledge, taking a seat. His demeanor was unusual-- and then Shien realized that the man wasn't carrying his machine gun.

Interesting.

As expected, the man lit a cigarette. "Can't sleep?" he muttered casually.

"Hardly," Shien agreed, leaning his head against the pillar behind him. The groves made the rest uncomfortable, but he didn't intend to fall asleep there. "It seems you couldn't, either."

The other man shrugged carelessly. "Why else would I be up here?"

Shien didn't answer.

The night air was cool. Faint mist hovered, too cold to choke, but not thin enough to go unnoticed. The mist made the atmosphere eerily mysterious, and irrationally made Shien think that revelations could be revealed tonight because of the filmy presence.

After a few minutes of contemplative silence, Zenon spoke. "It's exciting." There was a strange note of boyish excitement in his voice, and Shien wasn't sure he liked it or not. "Knowing that we're just hours away from what we deserve... I feel power coursing through my veins. This is what it's like to live."

Shien didn't grimace, but he inwardly found himself uncertain. The only times he really felt alive was when he was fighting—especially when, so long ago, it had been to protect the former War Prince.

"It does not bother you what this new world will do?" he asked quietly.

At first it seemed as though Zenon didn't understand the question. Then he snorted rudely. "Not really. This world is Hell. Pure, adulterated Hell. If it disappears, I couldn't give a damn."

Had he been anyone else, he wouldn't have dared taking a prod at Zenon's past. However, Shien was well aware that he was one of the two people who could get away with such a crime, and so he didn't hold back. He never held back even for a friend. "Even if the graves of your wife and child disappear?"

Zenon visibly stiffened. Gruffly, refusing to meet Shien's gaze, he retorted, "That's in the past."

"For something in the past, you have been carrying it on your shoulders quite often. Especially as of late," Shien noted matter-of-factly.

Acidly, Zenon shot back, "So have you."

He couldn't argue against that. Shien turned his gaze to the starless sky.

He couldn't help but wonder, as he had so many times before: had he been a child, rather than the man he used to be, would it have made a difference? Would he have been able to prevent what Son Goku had not? Would he have noticed the signs Son Goku had not?

Though it was possibly unfair, Shien still found Nataku's current state at fault with Heaven's murderous heretic.

As though sensing his thoughts, Zenon said with uncharacteristic quietness, "I wonder if the New World will become a repeat of the past."

Despite himself, Shien smiled grimly.

-

Homura looked up from his perusal of the scriptures when the door opened. As expected, Goku was returning, still wet and dripping from his shower. Exasperated, the god said, "I thought we agreed you would dry off in the bathroom."

Making a face, Goku proceeded to towel off right there. Once they had ventured into the sexual side of their relationship, the boy had decided to toss all modesty out the window. "But my clothes are in here," he pointed out, opening a drawer and grabbing his drawstring shorts and t-shirt.

Homura shook his head. He was sitting cross-legged on the bed, the Seiten and Maten scriptures at hand. The Seiten was resting beside his thigh, while he had unrolled the first few feet of Konzen's scriptures and settled them on his lap. He was only vaguely interested in the reading material; he already knew what was within them. Research had helped him there. Still, it would seem odd to have them in his possession and not at least glance at them.

As he watched the boy get dressed, Homura decided he was actually grateful Goku had decided to ignore the deal they'd made. It gave him the opportunity to scrutinize the boy's injuries, and he concluded that they were healing quite nicely. Sumi's wires had made clean cuts, so the flesh didn't seem to have any problems stitching itself back together. The marks around Goku's arm would definitely leave scars, and possibly the faint red lines around his throat and across his abdomen wouldn't completely fade away, either.

In other words, the boy was still healing, but for the most part he was safe to touch.

As though sensing Homura's stare, Goku finished tying the strings on his shorts and looked up. He frowned. "You still got those things? Geez, I'm starting to think you like them better than me."

The man smirked, rolling the Maten scripture back into its normal compact form. "Perhaps you have every right to think so."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Goku demanded.

Rather than answer, Homura set the scriptures aside on the nightstand. He leaned forward and grabbed the boy's wrist, tugging him toward the bed until their lips could touch with ease. Goku blinked, but almost immediately relaxed. A pleased noise sounded from deep within his throat, and he scrambled onto the mattress. Homura fell back, trailing kisses along the boy's jaw. The sudden change in plans drew a wordless protest from Goku, and the boy eagerly reached down for Homura's jeans.

Reacting quickly, Homura grasped the boy's wrists, forcing them back to his sides as he took his time searching for all the sensitive areas from Goku's ear to his collar.

Whining loudly, Goku squirmed against him. "Homura! Let go!"

"Shh," he murmured. He already had everything carefully thought out, and if at all possible he was going to keep Goku from ruining it. Rushing headlong into things would definitely disrupt his plans, and that was the last thing Homura needed.

Because, in this way, he could apologize to Goku without raising questions.

"Damn it..." From the heat rising from Goku's skin, Homura knew the boy was aroused. He was also impatient; the boy was too used to having his way in bed. Goku strained in an urgent but vain attempt against the man's hold. "Let me touch! Come on!"

Homura didn't bother to hush him again. Instead, he used his height and weight to his advantage, pushing the boy back against the covers. Once off balance Goku fell easily, hitting the mattress with a soft thump. The sheets rustled. Homura's chains clinking against his lover's stomach as he straddled him.

Goku attempted to gain some sort of advantage, but with his hands pinned and having a smaller stature there was little he could do. He still tried, and that Homura admired even as it amused him. He switched his hold on the boy, managing to grip both of Goku's wrists in one hand. He used the other to trail down his lover's chest, murmuring softly into his ear. Goku shivered, arching as much as he could into the man's touch. Pleased with the positive reaction, Homura resumed nibbling on the brunette's earlobe.

"Homura..." Goku began to squirm even more, panting softly while kicking his feet in frustration. "Gods, you jerk!"

Sighing, Homura decided that surprise would be the only way he could get his lover to cooperate for at least a few minutes. "You will have to calm down if you want to get anything, Goku."

The boy froze beneath him. Homura immediately took advantage of that, releasing his hold on Goku's arms so he could slide both hands up his shirt. Goku shuddered, though Homura suspected not entirely from the touch.

"H... Homura..."

"Shh." His shackles were probably cold to the boy's skin, but right then they felt too warm. For the first time Homura could remember they were too tight, as though restraining his movements from what they could be. He slid his fingers over Goku's firm abdomen, keeping his face inclined to the boy's neck. Beneath the veil of soap he could still catch Goku's scent, an almost sharp, earthy smell that reminded him of pine needles.

Homura pressed a kiss to the boy's neck the same instant his fingers ran over tanned flesh. Goku let out a small moan, reaching up to grip the man's arms tightly.

"Homura," he said again, his voice trembling with excitement. "You..."

"Said your name," he agreed, tracing circles around the boy's taut nipples, refusing to actually touch the sensitive areas. "I know."

Goku shuddered. "Gods..."

-

A mingle of sex and sweat stung Homura's nose, his eyes, filled every breath he took. To his amazement, he had only the lascivious image of Goku gasping, pouring rivers of sweat... and even more incredible was his utterance of the boy's name. When the intense pleasure finally dwindled, Homura found himself on his hands and knees, bracing himself above his lover with dark hair trying to cling to his eyes.

Shakily, Goku reached up and returned Homura's earlier affection by pushing the hair from his eyes. Even in his condition he managed a surprisingly vulnerable smile. Homura couldn't help but return it.

Then there was exhaustion as he sunk to the mattress beside the boy. There was a chill as the night air slowly settled on them, and then warmth as they crawled wearily beneath the blankets. Goku fell asleep first, easily more tired than his lover, and Homura was left awake a few precious minutes longer to catch his breath and enjoy the tingling heat of the boy's body curled up beside him.

When sleep claimed him, he had nightmares.