Author's note: Second fanfic ever...Hakkai's POV, a little more musing and a little more confusing. Those who like this stuff I put out, Gojyo's going to be next .'''''
I guess I've always known there was something different about him. Maybe it was the way he'd follow Sanzo around, as if the monk was a god, or perhaps just God. As if he were the earth and Sanzo the sun. In a way, I suppose that's true.
Maybe it's only me that notices the disturbing harmony in this group. Sanzo, with his golden hair and violet eyes, is either god or very close, while Goku is the soil, warmed and blessed. Gojyo-san is like fire, reacting violently with certain minerals of the earth, but good to be close to on a cold day. And me? I guess I'm the sea. Not the reputed clear blue of that land far away, but the sea that once upon a time I saw and remembered, of greens and browns that mixed and frothed. And above all, was patient and quiet and watching.
My strangest ponderings were confirmed one night, when the sky was brooding and the clouds growled to each other, and cried.
Rikudo. A dead man's name, and a dead man that knew Sanzo. I guess I could've lived and died without knowing this, without ever having known any secrets but my own, but when Goku went insane, when his limiter shattered and his mind with it, I would have given my soul to know the secret of the gods, to have stopped him. But Kanzeon came, and Goku returned to the sanctuary of his mind. But it was what she said that cut through the unclear haze around these memories.
"That is how powerful your friend Goku is. He's been like that since his time in Heaven."
His time in heaven...Goku?
I don't want to believe this. Goku, the cheerful monkey, playing the role of sibling, child, and worshipper of this strange family, in danger of losing his mind. Worse yet, not one hundred humans could stop him, and chances were none would try. I swore to myself to keep a closer eye on him. To make sure that no one's hurt. To make sure he'll never come to this fate. To protect him.
You know the rest, oh you who stand in a world apart, watching us on our travels with your hearts in your throats. Rikudo dies, and we go on. And on. And all the time I worry but keep silent, and I know the others do the same. Sanzo would say that we keep Muichimotsu, and hold nothing. And he would be wrong. I know. Because I lie.
I've lied for a long time through this smile of mine. Whenever Gojyo asked if I was all right, I smiled and said yes. Whenever Sanzo told us that he didn't care what happened to us, I lied in the simple act of being silent. It was true, in a way, that Sanzo in the place of God would survive separation the best, but I knew. A god without worshippers is forgotten, and when Goku goes, Sanzo will crumple. Perhaps not fall, but inside there will be nothing left, and one day he'll simply commit suicide and go down firing an empty gun. And perhaps I am wrong about being the sea. Perhaps, instead, I am the snake, Gojyo the apple, red as lust, and Sanzo and Goku the parents of a new sentience.
Temptation, knowledge, favor, and innocence. We play this game over and over, and get the same ending. They say doing something over and over and expecting something new is insanity; perhaps we sit in a padded cell, arms tied in special jackets, and rant aloud. But I don't think so. The hard, padded seat where I sit is too real, the blood that gushes warm over my hands could not be just in my mind. And the four of us share this dream, or, more apt, nightmare to the last detail. But I've digressed, and a long long way. Time to get back to our real journey.
Only once have I truly hated myself. When Goku threw away his diadem, when he asked me to save him, when I couldn't. I didn't. Why? Because I was afraid.
I was afraid of losing myself, even more of dying. I could have taken away the limiters in my ear, but I didn't for fear that his chi would touch mine and send me into that black pit named insanity. Even when he began, when I knew he would go, I could have stopped him on the brink and taken his place, even if it would shame him forever. Better than the burned mark on what's left of my withered heart. But I let him go.
Perhaps this is what saved us, that I didn't try to stop him in that yellow desert. I remember well what happened, even if the others didn't.
A gunshot that shatters the blue, blue sky not even yellow desert dust can touch, and Sanzo is there, at home in the golden sand. Goku's amber eyes turn to him, and everything is shades of gold. But Sanzo is standing, there's no possible way for him to be up like that. I wonder if I'm delirious, but the dryness and heat of the desert, and the fact that I can still feel the throbbing of pain in my chest proves that I am awake and this is real.
"Stop getting worked up. Stupid ape."
"Sanzo!" There isn't a way, it's impossible. And then I understand that Sanzo is just that way, he who steps over physical barriers.
"Come on. If you want me dead, now's your goddamn chance."
The air stills, thickening with tension as we reap of this drama. Goku watches, wary. And I realize that Sanzo's supreme arrogance is all that keeps him alive, instead of becoming a torn body, seeping blood into the endless sand. I am not amazed by this. It's always been that way, I think.
"Come on. Try and kill me."
"Sanzo?" I don't think he's serious, but he is.
"Bring it." And Goku does.
The gun is thrown away, silver in a world of amber where we're all encased, insignificant flies of greens and reds and browns. Goku is hurled away by the force of the blow, up again in an instant and snarling.
"Too bad. I don't have bullets to waste on you."
The tone of that rasping voice is enough to enrage an already angry monkey. Goku is at him again, and Sanzo goes down. By now I am dizzy, unable to warn the priest. But there's no need - the disappointment and challenge in those eyes transfix Goku. Before he can run away, the diadem is back on his head, and now comes the clear moment of understanding. Sanzo catches him as he falls. His words are harsh and angry, but in his eyes...in his eyes there is a look of care, of concern. Perhaps even of love. He falls back into unconsciousness, his hand on Goku's head in a gesture of quiet familiarity, of a tenderness I know none have ever seen before.
And then Dokugakuji left, bearing a much torn and battered Kougaiji. it's a little funny, having such a strong opponent fall in such a way, but then, that doesn't really matter. It's out of my hands now. But I do know Sanzo's not beyond my help, and slowly, painfully, we are all back in Jeep, and I push the stick shift into 'Drive'.
Another wave of vertigo spirals from the base of my skull, and I know we'll never get there. I push Jeep harder, feel him resisting under my touch. But he knows as well as I do we need to go back, and does as I order. I sit hunched over the wheel, breathing deeply and forcing my mind to clear, my eyes to unblur. It's failing, and Jeep veers as I begin to reel away. And something warm, padded like foam over steel, grips my hand. I am disoriented, my mind puzzles together what is happening too slowly. But I look up. Red eyes...mean Gojyo. But there is more to those eyes. There is something that I recognized in Sanzo's.
"G-Gojyo?"
"Gimme the wheel. I'll drive."
I know he's never driven before. There was no need. Oh, we've had little expeditions of me explaining to him how the gears worked and what was what, when Jeep first came, since I'd read the instructions and he did not. However, I know he's afraid to drive, afraid he'll go too slow or too fast, a million little things. I shake my head. He shouldn't try. He's injured.
"Just get some s-sleep, Gojyo. I head your ribs crack when I crashed into-"
"Leave me alone!"
The anger in his voice is surprising, even more so that it's directed at me. Or so I think, but his eyes are distant, trying not to care.
"Just gimme the wheel."
And then I remember something from earlier.
("Stupid stunts that nearly kill you don't impress us, moron!")
(I laugh, weak from my exertions. "S-sorry about that")
("Crud, Hakkai. Stop making me look bad.")
And the look in his eyes was the same, distant, trying to hide the forest with a single tree. And I realize his awkward affection toward me, his clumsy care.
"All right. Um, thank you."
We are a strange group, all right. We claim Muichimotsu, but we still hold each other's life dear. We love, yet are doomed for it. The silver of our scars becomes the spider's thread that bind us, strong, yet so insignificant, so unnoticeable. My incestuous love, his unattainable one. His broken faith, his thriving one. We lie and love, mortals and therefore selfish to the end. It's why I smile. It's why we all smile, though we may stand on the gallows or be tied to the cross. Because it's the truth, and nothing but.