: Perfect World :
Gensomaden Saiyuki
Disclaimer: I don't own Gensomaden Saiyuki, which rightfully belongs to Minekura Kazuya.
Rating: T
Pairings: Homura/Goku
Warnings: AU-ish, angst, yaoi/shounen ai, language
Notes: I apologize for the delay. Real life sucks and rocks at the same time.
Constructive criticism and feedback is appreciated.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
This was what he got for questioning Rinrei's punishment. Had he not been immediately next in line to replace the comatose War Prince, he probably would have been reincarnated as well, or even just locked away again. Instead, they had chosen torture.
He was in no physical pain at the moment, yet Homura couldn't help but feel sick with dread. His arms trembled as he pulled uselessly against his restraints. Though he hated himself for it, small, wordless cries constantly escaped him. Chains encircled any part of him possible; they bound his wrists, ankles, thighs, and abdomen, ensuring that he couldn't escape even if he truly tried.
The blade sliced through the air. A thin whistling sound followed each movement. Homura's eyes followed it, back and forth, back and forth, like a deadly pendulum that only drew closer to him. The higher it was, the lower it seemed to swing over his body. First over his legs, and then as it slipped downward inch by inch, over his waist. Then it looked as though it would gut him, spilling hot blood all over the floor.
It was centimeters from his face. Horribly fascinated, Homura couldn't take his eyes off it.
This is what I deserve...
He had once thought that way. Perhaps, at times, he still did. In a way, he had brought this torment upon himself. But in the back of his mind an unfamiliar whisper insisted that it wasn't fair. No one else was tortured merely by questioning the emperor's intent. At the most they were imprisoned, and at best they were put under strict probation for a short term.
But he was a heresy.
This... is what I deserve...
Now the blade seemed to swing in unbearable slowness. Homura's muscles grew taut with anxiety. Sweat was pouring in rivulets from every inch of his skin, getting into his eyes and stinging them briefly. He blinked, and then the sharp edge was that much closer. His breath caught.
The blade nicked him, barely creating a small opening on his lower lip. It didn't even sting; he couldn't register pain in the current state he was in. Eyes wide, he began to scream. His pupils contracted, the irises nearly swallowed up in the whites of his eyes. At that moment he couldn't realize that he was only feeding his tormentors' pleasure. All pretense of bravery had been lost.
The blade was raised, but he still continued to scream uncontrollably. He began to thrash; kicking, flailing, and shouting wordlessly at unseen enemies. Terror seized every thread of his being.
This... is not what I deserve.
Homura woke in a cold sweat.
The room was cloaked in darkness, the air uncomfortably warm in comparison to his body heat. He shivered, pushing himself up and looking down at his side. Son Goku remained still, his features slack with the weight of sleep.
The dream was still clear in his mind. Homura knew that was because it was more of a memory than a nightmare-- though, in reality, it had also been a living nightmare. He could remember the sound of the blade swishing through the air, lowering chain by chain. He had been bound on that floor more times than he could count. Sometimes the blade never touched him, but more often than not it did.
Once it had nicked his lip, as in the dream. Another time it had cut his forehead, and he had bled profusely. Yet another time it had sliced into his collar until bone had showed-- and the worst instance had been when it had cut into his stomach. The wound had eventually healed, but it had left its mark. He still had a clean scar just below his ribs. Fortunately, he was pale enough do that it wasn't prominent, but it was still there.
Homura traced the mark. It was about five centimeters long. He knew. He'd measured it once out of idle curiosity.
Warm lips on his side startled him. Homura looked down, only able to make out tousled dark hair in the dim lighting.
"Mm... why're you awake?" Goku's voice was slurred with sleep. He moved his arms around the man and nuzzled his shoulder. He seemed to lack the energy to pull himself up any higher than that.
"It's nothing," Homura said hoarsely. Startled, he cleared his throat.
Goku grunted softly in reply, pulling himself up until he could rest his cheek on the man's shoulder. "But you're so cold," he muttered, his words becoming easier to understand. Tightening his hold on Homura, he added, "And your heart's beatin' real fast..."
In an odd way, the boy's concern was both touching and annoying. Homura opted for silence, taking comfort in covering the boy's hand with his own. To his amazement, Goku's skin was warmer than his own-- just warm, not hot. Perhaps the boy was right and he was too cold. He wondered if dreams could chill someone enough to take on that effect.
Goku either sensed his tension or was feeling unusually playful so early in the morning, because he nipped gently at Homura's shoulder. "Was it a bad dream?" The boy stifled a yawn, then continued as though not noticing Homura's sudden tension. "S'okay if it was... I won't laugh."
Despite himself, Homura smiled faintly. He traced the back of the boy's hand idly. "I know you would not."
They stayed like that for while longer, comfortable silence lapping at them as the first rays of sun began to filter through the window. Homura turned his head away, but beside him he felt Goku shifting to watch it.
At last he gently detached himself from his lover. "We ought to get ready. Today is the day."
Goku perked up at his words. "You mean... the new world?"
Somehow, Homura found it odd that there was no apprehension in the boy's voice. Then again, Goku wasn't fully aware of what this new world would cost to make, or the consequences that would trail behind.
And in order to pursue his plans to the end, Homura knew he would have to keep it that way a little longer. It meant that Goku would follow him blindly for a while-- but then, he'd been pretty much following the man blindly for over three years.
"Yes," was all he chose to say. "Get ready. We may still have a few hours until they arrive, but it will be best to be ready ahead of time."
Goku didn't ask who "they" were; Homura had known the boy would understand he was referring to the Sanzo party. Instead, he just nodded and climbed out of bed, fumbling for his shorts. Homura watched, unexpectedly finding his eyes roaming over the boy's body-- something he'd never done before. He hadn't expected to become this attached just before the new world was created. After, perhaps, if all went well, but not before.
That only increased the guilt. It pressed against his lungs, constricting his breathing. He had to close his eyes and clench his teeth, counting slowly and silently as he waited for the crushing sensation to pass. While it lifted, it didn't entirely disappear.
When he opened his eyes again, he saw Goku staring at him expectantly, one hand on his hip. Homura blinked. "Yes?"
A smug grin touched the boy's lips. "Aren't you gonna come with me?"
Homura arched an eyebrow. "What for?"
"To shower."
He stared at the brunette for a few moments, trying to decide if he was serious. Hadn't he been paying attention when Homura had explained that they would want to be ready ahead of time? Even with that thought, Homura's lips tugged into a smirk. In wordless agreement, he retrieved his pants and followed the boy.
An extra few minutes couldn't hurt.
-
He was having trouble locating one of his shoes right then, but Goku could hardly care. He was elated, positively giddy after the events of the past twenty-four hours. After all they had been through, hearing Homura call his name at the height of passion was more than just an improvement; it finalized things. And not only that, but the man had stopped using his last name along with it.
After three years of that, Goku believed he had every reason to feel the way he did.
And maybe it was because of those two things, but Goku thought that the last two times had definitely been more enjoyable. Last night had been one long mixture of sex, frustration, and overwhelming tender emotion; this morning had involved a lot more playfulness, especially on Homura's part.
Goku thought about it, then decided he definitely liked that. He recalled the man's mismatched eyes gleaming up at him in almost boyish wickedness, and that had been sexy as hell. Goku shivered.
As though on cue, Homura entered the room, pushing damp hair from his eyes. Goku exchanged grins with him (which, in Homura's case, was a cocky smirk) before he resumed the hunt for his missing shoe.
To his irritation, the man said, "If you are looking for your boot, you kicked it under the bed yesterday."
Goku twitched, but when he looked the shoe proved to be there as promised. He had to lie flat on his stomach to reach it. When he managed to grab it, the brunette was suddenly acutely aware of someone staring at him. He looked over his shoulder, returning Homura's gaze.
"What?"
"Nothing," Homura said calmly-- and too innocently, in Goku's opinion.
Rolling his eyes, Goku slid back from the bed and sat down, tugging his boot on. "You were checking me out," he accused.
Homura shrugged. "I see no reason not to. Aside from that, your horrible habits have rubbed off on me as of late." The comment reminded Goku of Zenon's teasing just weeks before, and he snorted while tugging on his laces. After he stood, Homura turned on his heel and strode from the room. He clearly expected Goku to follow, and follow he did. They used an elevator, much to Goku's relief. At the same time it only made him more fidgety; excitement was building to the point the boy was afraid he would burst.
This was a momentous day. Sometime in the future, this day would make history. Goku was sure of it-- and, most importantly, he couldn't wait to have Homura unconditionally to himself in this new place.
Forgetting that he was mad at him, he hoped he could still see Konzen sometime.
The elevator hummed around them while Goku's eyes wandered aimlessly. As the most interesting being in the enclosed space, Homura easily caught the boy's attention. It was then he realized that his lover was holding something-- no. Two somethings.
"What d'you need the scriptures for, exactly?" he asked.
He hadn't expected an answer, so it came as a surprise when Homura replied, "The Maten Scripture will become a bargaining chip."
Puzzled, Goku tried to work out what that meant. "You need something from Konzen?"
"I will," Homura corrected. "When the time comes."
"What time?" Goku pressed. The man only smirked in response; clearly he wasn't going to get anything but vague answers. Reluctantly, the brunette dropped the conversation and leaned against the wall.
Damn it, he thought, scowling. Homura's cryptic answers were going bother him all afternoon, he just knew it.
When the elevator came to a stop, Goku felt his heart cease simultaneously. He remembered Shien's strange words so long ago when he had stumbled across a supposedly secret room. He had told the boy he wasn't "ready" to see it yet. Did that mean he was finally going to see it, learn why it was so important?
To his disappointment, the doors opened to the throne room. Homura strode out, and Goku followed. This place made him uneasy, but it wasn't hard to understand why. This had been the very room they had engaged in their worst verbal fight. Just remembering it was emotionally exhausting, so Goku quickly shoved that to the back of his mind.
Zenon and Shien were waiting in their normal places beside the throne. Homura continued up to them, but Goku hung back, suddenly uneasy. That was the scene that could only fit three people of importance-- and he wasn't one of those people.
Rather than sit down, Homura placed both scriptures on the seat. "This," he declared, "is the beginning of everything we have been working toward."
"Fantastic," Zenon said, his voice heavy with sarcasm. "We get the typical villain's speech."
Goku snickered, earning a sigh from Shien and a barely visible smirk from Zenon. Homura snorted softly, finally facing the boy. There was nothing on his face to indicate that something extraordinary was looming over them, yet his earlier words had said just that.
"You two have become the perfect siblings," he said wryly. "In any case, this is what we need to do." His eyes flickered to the sides. "Zenon. Shien. You two will dispatch the obstacles, then accompany me upstairs. Goku." His eyes fell on the brunette, the humor fading from his expression. "You will follow them, but wait where Zenon tells you to."
Goku frowned. "How come I'm not going with you?"
"Simple, brat," Zenon cut in before Homura could reply. "You're the welcoming party."
Puzzled, Goku could only say, "What?"
"You will escort Konzen to this room," Shien said, his tone quiet but voice perfectly clear. "And from then on, you will finally learn everything you've wanted to."
The queasy feeling was back. This time, Goku highly doubted it was due to his surroundings.
"Let us begin," Homura said. Then, with only the faintest of reassuring smiles to his lover, he dismissed them.
-
The stairway was the longest route. That was why he took it, climbing each step with a note of determination. It was similar to his reasoning for taking them when he and Goku had been arguing, and that was to prolong what was to come. This time, however, it wasn't out of apprehension.
This was to help him savor the moment.
That was what Homura told himself, anyway. He didn't want to admit that the closer he drew to the pentagram, the closer he came to the climax of all he had been working toward. So much was at stake today. He had to create this new world; he'd vowed to do so ever since he had discovered it was possible. This was for himself, for his companions-- for the memory of Rinrei, still held most important in his heart.
Watch me, he thought, as though she could hear him. Watch me succeed in what I couldn't do for you while you were alive. I will create this world in your name, in your memory, in light of all we shared in our brief time.
It wasn't just for her anymore; not now, when he had so many others to take into consideration. This was also for Zenon, to heal his pain of what the demons had done to him. This was for Shien, to soothe the horrid memories of what the heavens had done to the one person he had wanted to protect. This was for Son Goku, to heal what he couldn't remember, and to give him a new place to start over without any prejudices whatsoever.
And finally, this was for himself. It was to create his ideal world, in which no god could ever pronounce anyone a heresy or otherwise. It was to give him a retreat, a place to live the rest of his shortened life in peace. Most importantly, it was a salve to his burned emotions and scarred body. All the cruel things the heavens had done to him in the past could be forgotten here, for they would no longer loom above or around him.
His chest tightened painfully in bittersweet anticipation. While he had started this with only good (though selfish) intentions in mind, he was well aware of all that could go wrong. His power might not be enough. He could miscalculate, ruin everything, and be apprehended and condemned even more by the heavens. In that possibility, an unsuspecting one would be forced to take his place as the War Prince. Once he discovered what was really going on, Son Goku might hate him.
No, he thought with a heavy sigh that hurt his constricted lungs. Son Goku would most likely hate him after this. He had told himself long ago that it was more than likely, and up until this point he had thought he could handle that.
Now, though, he wasn't so sure.
Homura had to stop outside the door, fingers resting on the handle as he took a moment to catch his breath. Walking up that many flights of stairs shouldn't have been so hard. But he knew it wasn't because he was out of shape. It was just his nerves tightening before the big event. This was natural. He should have expected it. After all, he was going to change the world-- or rather, destroy it, utterly changing the balance of the universe.
Finally, he pushed the door open. The hinges creaked in a sign of misuse. Inside the room was dark, though enough moonlight filtered through the windows to give him a good view of what lay within.
The stone walls were a grayish blue, the tiles on the floor mixed with the harsh blackness of a pentagram design in the center. The ceiling seemed to reach the heavens, though there were a good couple of stories above it. It smelled musty with the lack of use, but it wasn't overwhelming.
Homura took a step forward, intending to set down the scriptures and bring some light into the room, when a sudden fierce pain seized his chest. A small cry slipped from him as he doubled over, the sutras rolling out of his reach. Within him, it felt as though something was tugging viciously at his heart and lungs, trying to rip them out his back. Agony palpitated from his chest to his temples, every fiber of being in that area screaming in protest.
He clutched weakly at his heart, his fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt and pressing so hard into his skin, he was likely going to leave bruises. Heavy, ragged breathing reached his ears; Homura recognized it as his own. He groaned pathetically, sweat beading on his forehead. The tile felt cool just above his eyes.
It wasn't nerves. It wasn't anticipation.
He knew right then he would have to make a change in plans. No longer could he afford to keep Son Goku in the dark about what was to happen. As Homura pushed himself up on his hands and knees, he realized that in order to create the new world he would have to do so by force. Now, his new world wasn't going to be a place to live the rest of his life in.
He was dying.
The new world would be his grave.
-
Goku rubbed the back of his neck. He was bored, getting stiff, and even more anxious than ever.
Zenon had taken several gods -- who, Goku understood, had fled the heavens to join Homura's cause -- to the center of the tower. He had watched as they had begun to set up a feast; even now, delicious smells wafted through the closed doors before the boy, making his stomach rumble eagerly. But it wasn't for him.
Zenon had left rather quickly after that, his only words to the boy telling him to stay in this hallway. Konzen would come, he said, and most likely alone. If he wasn't alone, Goku was to get rid of whoever else was with him. When the brunette asked how, Zenon had knocked him upside the head, gruffly telling him that he had a brain and might as well try using it.
He was still uneasy.
Things were quiet now. Idle chatter from the gods was muffled by the thick double doors separating the room from the hallway. Goku tuned them out easily; he wasn't interested in them, anyway.
After their last encounter, Konzen was definitely going to be less than happy to see him. In fact, Goku wouldn't be surprised of the man decided to shoot him upon sight. Now the only person he had business with was Homura, as the god was the one in possession of the scriptures. He didn't need Goku to lead him there; the layout was simple enough, making it nearly impossible for one to get lost.
That wasn't what made him squirm. Goku was worried about Homura.
There had been something too cold, too business-like in the man's demeanor once they had reached the throne room. Something was off about the whole ordeal. He couldn't place his finger on it, but Goku knew.
He was scared. He didn't want to admit it, but he was definitely scared.
A muffled crash sounded below. Goku didn't have to wonder what it was; he knew. Konzen and his group had arrived, and things were going to get rolling whether he wanted them to or not.
