Summary: Balmy sunshine, warm breaths and silence are anesthetic to the sleep-deprived and jaded. Slight mentions of slash.
A seasonally warm breeze sweeps across a silvery sea, long grasses waving in its wake before it makes another pass. Ever playful, her drafty fingers twine with ethereally golden hair, tousling the presently messy locks into further disarray. Several trees, thick with glossy foliage, dot stretching shores of sand. Amiable sunshine throws her temperate rays across one of the numerous celestial bodies, the sole globe with intelligent life, breathable atmosphere and the sustenance of all life—water; the salvation of a parched itinerant soul, mistress of raging rivers and gentle streams. She is the lifeblood of those glassy lakes, surfaces shimmering from wind's warm breaths.
Amidst the soothing touch of a draft, comforting cradle of warmth and cordial silence, it is easy to drape one's arm across their forehead and fall into oblivious slumber—a simple task that has eluded my grasp innumerable times. Here, in the bosom of Nature, it is second nature to let one's thoughts meander all while succumbing to the alluring beauty of rest. Without accord from the possessor, blue-veined eyelids slide closed over amethyst eyes.
In these times, when even the most benign of us bristle with unseen thorns hidden with a painfully forced politeness, and when all present seems determined to clash with the glass-like delicacy of my nerves, a respite is needed. And such, this particular cessation of necessary duties is welcomed with the open arms of these four. Goku ceases to maintain that ever-present, childish image of his, Gojyo eases off on his aggravating instigating, Hakkai puts away his fragile mask and I, or rather, Genjyo Sanzo ignores the voice inside which complains about idiotic monkeys, mother hens and perverted water demons.
Continuous traveling, perpetual discomfort, constant bathing in blood are part of the normal routine; the rut, in which we continually dig ourselves deeper into, until we cannot delve any further. Then we will find ourselves caught in a seemingly bottomless mine shaft, and then must make the galling ascent to free ourselves. In the precious few intermissions that find their way into this journey, I grasp the solace I so desire and covet.
Strident discord snaps the pattern of thought I have fallen into, but against the conventional grain of myself, the burnished Smith & Wesson does not make an appearance. His sapphire eyes, which betray more than his face will ever, blink ever so slightly in confusion—perplexed at my reaction, perhaps. It is the sun—addling with my customary gruff nature—that is lulling me to sleep, against the side that yields to naught. An alien wave of contentment sweeps over me, or so it feels. It is strange, how a simple oasis can make one's mind wander and ponder upon things.
Shit. The sun is blinding me.
Glance away, shift the arm and turn the shoulder. It is as simple as that to ignore the piercing rays of light; tuning out the din of a raging battlefield meters away is something else entirely. I do not—or cannot—even bring myself to disrupt the clash between Goku and Gojyo; this is becoming exceedingly aggravating. An alien feeling of contentment that I have not experienced in years washes over this weary body of mine, snatching my soul from whatever abyss it resides in. Such a sensation of warmth and comfort that has eluded me since the time of his passing; is it fate that has brought the four of us together on this "crusade"?
What am I talking about? What is "fate", other than the result of the decisions made in your life? The gods—whether they exist or not—will not save anyone; you can only save yourself. You live, and eventually die for yourself. Of course, there are those who die for others. The pain of their loss is eternal; you cannot replace an animate object.
The oppressing weight of this unasked-for title—an everlasting reminder to my failure—appears to lessen on days like these. Lie back in peace, observe and simply do nothing. Multi-tasking has always been one of my strengths. Example: swatting Goku with the harisen, firing several rounds at Gojyo and conversing with Hakkai, all while reading the newspaper. Possessing the title of Sanzo and administering the affairs of the largest temple in Chang An does that to you. Which is why on days like these, I am more than content to let go of familiar conventions.
I feel, rather than sense, a shadow fall across my face. You're blocking the sun, Hakkai.
"The sun is high in the sky; it's rather hot out now." He pauses for emphasis, or perhaps for an intake of breath. "There is shade over on the other side…" The sentence remains unfinished; it is his way of posing a question to me, when there really is no choice about the matter. Without a word, I shift over to aforementioned shady area, putting me into close proximity of Hakkai. Or as I would say aloud, Hakkai is in close proximity to me, and prodding the imperceptible shell of my personal space with his serene presence.
Crap. Is it just I, or is the sun exceptionally hot? More than likely, it is the former than the latter; in shade there is no sun to break the darkness. Time and time again, I am reminded of how weak humans are. Long-lashed eyelids slide shut over purple eyes again, as a pale arm is slapped roughly onto a similarly hued forehead. Droplets of salty perspiration slick the locks of sunlight-spun hair that fall over his forehead.
"Sanzo, are you feeling alright?"
I am fine; leave me alone. You worry too much.
Even with my eyes closed, I can see the flash of worry that dances lightly across his face, before it is consumed by his placid smile. Of course, he can no doubt tell that I am not fine; a year of traveling in close quarters forces one to observe things that are not normally seen. Such as the number of wrinkles I have set into my forehead, or when he is wearing that fake smile. Subconsciously, as most of my actions seem to be at the moment, the set of my lips in their hard sneer loosens. If one cares to look closely, they might see the ghost of the beginnings of a smile.
Of course, he looks closely. And he turns away, without malice or ill feeling.
I am getting soft. Two, maybe three years ago, I would have shied away from this sort of peaceful, warm feeling. To feel this was to rip the dressing from that raw wound. Amidst the deafening roar of pouring rain, drowning in the depthless pit of despair, drenched in the stark, crimson blood of the only one who mattered to me, my light in the darkness… To feel this was to open my arms and revel in weakness of the heart, something that I cannot, orrather, should notdo. The weakness of a heart cost a young boy the only one he had loved, the only burning candle in the shadows of darkness.
Paradox. The very sutra on my shoulders, the Maten kyoumon, is the breaker of darkness and the binding force that dispels all evil. It is suiting that I wear the sutra of Demonical Sky, when I myself am a walking oxymoron. One who holds both good and evil… That is something the despicable Ukoku Sanzo murmured, many years ago. He stated that he saw thinking aloud. I am both good and evil, heartless, yet not cruel, gruff yet kind, priest yet worldly, religious yet a breaker of vows. There are too many contradictions to name.
Yet they love me all the more for them. I do not hide myself, and they accept it. Some say love is blind, and devotion is deaf.
I would have to agree with that twit.
Goku and Gojyo are still fighting it out in the water. It would take a blind and deaf person to ignore them, what with the ruckus they are creating. And yet again, I cannot bring myself to silence them. And as if he can read thoughts, Hakkai murmurs soft sentences that have his miraculous calming effect, and the din drops to a dull roar.
"Isn't it beautiful today, Sanzo?"
The sun is out, the skies are the perfect shade of blue, a gentle breeze is playing havoc with my hair; I suppose it is nice. As long fingers trail down weathered bark, the urge to fold a paper airplane comes. Not simply any plane, but an orange one. The orange of the plane and the blue of the sky contrast, and both look all the more beautiful. A soaring plane, the azure sky, feathery clouds and wisps of smoke; it is quaint, how memory remembers distant events such as these.
On days like these, Genjyo Sanzo feels the piercing blade in the soul of his heart loosen, sliding out the slightest bit. On days like these, it is ridiculously simple for a rude, heartless man to soften the slightest bit, and allow the weakness of heart to shine through. On days like these, I extremely dislike how fragile I become.
Were they not his last words, to be strong? Even the steadfast beacon of a lighthouse dims occasionally.
"Hey, Sanzo! Look what I found!"
It is the voice that never ceases to remain silent, and it calls my name again. After I ascended from the state of despair I had fallen into, the nightmares that plagued me for years were replaced by this voice. A crushed, pleading and incessantly annoying voice, that cried for help. I could not bring myself to strike the owner of that voice, despite all I had said. Only a monkey is as bothersome as that child. Son Goku.
"Sanzo."
Striking eyes question me, the possessor unaware of their power. Even the glass eye has acquired the Hakkai-like quality to speak with the eyes. It is a talent, if I may, of his; those blue-green eyes may bring a peaceful calm about, or wreck havoc and let fury run rampant. The resident jack-of-all-trades is particularly vengeful when angered. His rage is unforgettable; a single withering glance will silence even the most boisterous. Cho Hakkai.
"Hey, baldy monk."
Shut up, you. This is the last member of the meddling trio, Sha Gojyo. Grudgingly, I shall admit to that the perverted water sprite has saved me from many a predicament. I refuse to think anything else; I might catch whatever he has.
These three, three boats in a tempestthat are guided by the radiance of light…
"Sanzo." It is barely above a whisper, yet is serves its purpose. Did I really drift off to sleep? Crap, my neck is sore.
Your eyes are truly amazing, but I will never say it to you. Such a splendid shade. Malachite. Gold. Crimson.
Fully awakened from his restful moment of contemplation, the blond pulls himself to his feet. The two, Goku and Gojyo, are still frolicking in the sparkling waters, laughing freely in a manner that they have not exercised in the longest while. Hakkai is serene, the playful breeze tugging and twisting his dark hair every which way. And I, or rather, Sanzois at ease, a rare feat in these times.
He turns his head and motions ever so slightly. "Coming, Sanzo?"
I yearn to stay awhile longer in this soporific reverie wrought by peace, but like all things, it will eventually fade away. Amethyst eyes soak in every detail of this tranquil setting, capturing the landscape and the three in an everlasting mental snapshot. An overwhelming surge of affection sweeps over the icy soul of the habitually cold man, and the ice thins.
In a soft voice that is drawn into the flowing wind, I answer back, "I'm coming."
I will remain in this haven a while longer, if I have you.
---------------
"In truth there is no better place to be than falling out of darkness still to see.
Without a premonition, could you tell me where we stand? I'd hate to lose this light before we land.
And when I feel like I can feel once again, let me stay awhile; soak it in awhile.
If we can hold on, we can fix what is wrong.
Buy a little time for this head of mine.Haven for us…"
"The Light Before We Land" —The Delgados
A/N: Just a brief note to my readers; you can be used in the singular or plural form. Bear in mind I intended to use you in the plural form. Thank you.