The Hanyou's Prayer (2/4)
I'm striking while the iron is hot! ^_^ It's been what, a week since I started this? Less?
I've done a little decision-making and plotting, and I've firmed up that this story will be short-ish, having only four parts. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will come out under fifty pages/20,000 words. (Sad, I know, that that would be what I'm calling short these days.)
The rundown on this story is a little like this:
Title: The Hanyou's Prayer
Rating: R? PG-13? Something like that.
Summary: Gojyo has a bit of a mishap and has to live with the life-altering consequences.
Warnings: Alternate reality taking place in and branching off from the canon universe; probable, eventual sex between Gojyo and Hakkai; swearing and probable canon-appropriate violence; present tense and gratuitous use of italics. This is a rough draft and is therefore prone to my own special, neglectful brand of editing. If something's super wonky, let me know, yeah?
For those of you coming upon this now, the first part can be found here.
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It's been twenty-three days now. They're traveling across another desert wasteland, no other life forms in sight save the odd vulture that gives them the once-over. Gojyo sighs and shifts around in the backseat, aware of every single lump and spring buried in the upholstery. He chalks this hypersensitivity up as another unwanted side-effect. Gods-damned palace. Fucking accident. Another day under the blazing hot sun might just drive Gojyo over the edge. There’s nothing out there but sand and rocks. As the jeep jolts over a sand-covered rock, the sunlight bounces off the bronze bracelet. He blinks away spots that float in his vision.
Gojyo's dying for a drink and, truth be told, could really use the mind-blurring effects of alcohol. He glances down at the metal wrapped around his wrist. Too bad his…condition…has made it impossible to get drunk with what they keep in the jeep. Gods know he's tried. Maybe if they hit an inn somewhere, he can manage to drown a portion of his woes, but warm beer out of the cooler doesn't cut it, not when every jerk and sway of the car navigating the rough ground sends the ends of Sanzo's sutra flapping into his line of sight.
He's still surprised by the clarity of his sight, how sharp his hearing is, how even his senses of taste and smell and touch have improved. Gojyo smokes more these days, trying to blot out sensation and memory alike with cigarette smoke. Mostly it hasn't worked: he hasn't gone a millisecond without his limiter, and he can't stop thinking about it.
He pushes the hair out of his face and it's immediately blown back, along with enough road grit to make his eyes water. He reaches for his beer. It's empty. So is the cooler. Gojyo sighs and his hair slaps him across the cheek.
"We coming to a town any time soon, Hakkai?" says Gojyo. "Supplies are running low, if you catch my drift."
He catches Hakkai's eye in the rearview mirror and waggles his empty beer can in the air.
"Oh?" says Hakkai. "If you'd like, you can check the map, but I believe we won't reach civilization until tomorrow morning."
The gentle click and thud of the glove box opening precedes Sanzo shoving the map in Gojyo's face.
"Hey, watch it!" says Gojyo. "You almost poked my eye out!"
Sanzo's snort is audible. So is the flick of his lighter. Gojyo inhales greedily, hoping to suck up whatever second-hand smoke isn't blown out of the jeep. His cigarettes ran out yesterday morning, and Sanzo, being the stingy bastard that he is, has been refusing to share his.
Granted, Sanzo doesn't share anything with Gojyo these days; Gojyo isn't sure whether or not to be grateful that Sanzo hasn't so much as looked at him--let alone hit, shot at, or used Gojyo to sharpen his tongue on--since they'd found Goku and Hakkai and had left that stupid, stupid palace. Temple. Whatever. But that was three weeks ago, easy. Gojyo suspects Sanzo is waiting for the ideal moment (probably the second he thinks Gojyo's forgotten what happened) to lay into him. He snorts. Not going to happen. He's not forgetting jack.
Gojyo unfolds the map and traces the lightly penciled line that marks their journey. He doesn't know who's been drawing it, Hakkai or Sanzo, but he has yet to figure out how anyone knows where they've been. He frowns down at the tiny dot on the line that represents that great, empty, bronze-doored palace.
"Well?" says Sanzo.
Startled, Gojyo stares at the back of Sanzo's seat, not daring to try to make eye contact in one of the mirrors. He blurts out the first thing that comes into his head.
"You sound like shit," says Gojyo.
And it's true. Sanzo sounds awful. He sounds exhausted and dried-out and like he's chain-smoked his way through an entire truckload of cigarettes. As if to confirm this, Sanzo starts coughing and doesn't stop until he's gasping for breath.
Goku leans forward over the seats, shoving his way into Sanzo's personal space…and Gojyo's knees.
"You okay, Sanzo?" says Goku. "Hey, Hakkai, maybe we should pull over so Sanzo can have a rest."
"Move it, monkey," says Gojyo. "Sit in your own damn seat. His holiness is fine."
His heart isn't in the banter today, and his sarcasm falls flat, sounding suspiciously like worry. He crumples up the map and tosses it forward. Hakkai catches it with one hand, his sigh audible even above the road noise. Gojyo winces at the thought that maybe it's his hearing that's gotten sharper and not Hakkai's expressions of dismay and resignation.
"I'm afraid there's nowhere to stop," says Hakkai. "It's best to press on. Perhaps we'll be able to make it to a town a little sooner that way."
"I'm not an invalid," says Sanzo. "Don't talk about me like I can't hear you."
There's the sound of his fan sliding out of his sleeve, and Goku must hear it too because he bounces back into his seat and crosses his arms.
"It's just an idea," says Goku. "Anyway, I'm so bored! There's nothing to do."
"You can be bored quietly," says Sanzo. "So shut it."
Sanzo lays the fan on the dashboard in the space that's visible between the two front seats. It's in easy reach should anyone--namely Goku--keep fussing. He takes the map from Hakkai and begins to smooth it out. Gojyo knows Sanzo probably knows what bothered him about it, and so he makes an effort to look away over the landscape and not, as he'd like, at Sanzo for some sign of recognition. Understanding would be way too much to hope for. Not that Sanzo could even begin to understand this.
Besides the physical side-effects, which are bad enough on their own, there's the issue of the limiter itself. He sometimes feels a resonance in it, a tingle that shoots through the metal and through his body, reaching out to the sutra on Sanzo's shoulders. It increases until Gojyo can barely think if Sanzo is too close or is angry enough that the sutra responds to his emotions…in other words, almost all the time.
What's worse is the way everyone's avoiding saying anything about the bracelet. Gojyo doesn't want anyone to know what's happened to him. It's kind of impossible to think about, let alone explain. He knows he'll die if he has to talk about it. Talking is for pansies who aren't on this road-trip from hell, people who aren't being sent to the showdown of the century.
The thought makes him queasy.
He is equally certain that Goku and Hakkai already know and have known since the day that statue turned his life upside down. Gojyo catches Goku staring at the limiter, from time to time, but the kid never says anything about it. Usually politeness and tact are Hakkai's bailiwick. Goku has picked a hell of a time to stop being his usual annoying self.
Gojyo looks down at his wrist for the millionth time in the past three weeks. He wonders what Hakkai would think. Does think. Not that Hakkai doesn't already know something's eating away at him, but it's one thing to suspect that Hakkai's holding back and another to actually want him to say just exactly what he means when he looks at Gojyo a certain way and gives one of his patented false smiles.
Gojyo hasn't been acting like his normal self. He knows this, and it bothers him. Deeply. He flashes back to Sanzo's words at the palace: there isn't anything human left in him. Gojyo frowns. He twists the bracelet around his wrist and studies the hinge. It would be so easy to just take the damn thing off.
Does this mean he'll never get back to being himself? He's a little freaked out at the idea that the best parts of him are either gone now or, maybe, came from his youkai half to begin with. Knowing how Hakkai feels about the topic in general does nothing to comfort him. Fuck, if he can't confess this to his best friend, what options does he have? Hakkai would probably forgive anything else, anything else at all. If Gojyo had killed someone--several someones, even--Hakkai would probably just smile and ask him what he wanted for dinner. But this?
Hakkai would never talk to him again, and that's almost worse than knowing he's going to spend the rest of his life as a youkai.
Gojyo perks up at the sound of the jeep downshifting. He pays more attention to the landscape and sees a small grove of trees. Hakkai's turning them toward it. This far out in the desert, trees mean a good water source. Looks like they'll be making an unscheduled stop after all.
"Hey, Hakkai. Was this on the map?" Gojyo says. "Not that I'm complaining."
His mood brightens at the thought of stretching his legs. A few minutes out of the jeep, away from the others, would be really, really nice.
"No," says Hakkai. "But, I might add, the map is nowhere near a comprehensive guide to the land."
"I don't like it," says Sanzo. "It's awfully convenient, wouldn't you say?"
There is a short pause, with no sounds but the crunch of the tires rolling over some gravel. Hakkai sighs.
"We need the water," says Hakkai. "And please don't try to tell me that you would rather keep driving, Sanzo."
Apparently Sanzo's not the only one running on empty today.
"If you're leading us into a trap," says Sanzo.
Goku interrupts, and Sanzo doesn't have a chance to finish.
"If it's a trap, we'll kick their asses!" he says. "Right Sanzo? And anyway, a fight would be way less boring than counting the rocks that go by."
Gojyo smiles. It feels like old times again.
"Like you can count that high, ya dumb monkey," says Gojyo.
He looks over at Goku, and Goku seems cheered up at the dig.
"I can count plenty high," says Goku. "And at least I'm not the one that--"
The occupants of the jeep go silent, watching the horizon with fascinated horror.
Youkai start popping up from the sand that lies between the jeep and the oasis. Hordes of youkai. A vast sea of screaming, slavering, clamoring youkai bent on taking them out. Just great. Just fucking great. Instead of stretching his legs and maybe sitting in whatever shade the oasis can afford them, Gojyo's going to be working up even more of a sweat.
Hakkai brakes hard, shifting down and stopping fast. In anticipation of the fight, they all jump out, and the jeep transforms into Hakuryuu. Their baggage is dumped unceremoniously to the ground. The little white dragon flutters away to a safe distance, leaving the four of them and their pile of gear behind. The rumble-roar of the youkai crowd grows louder. Gojyo can pick out the clash of weapons and the stamping of many, many feet.
"I realize this terrain affords little advantage to anyone," says Hakkai. "However, I suggest we move away from our supplies. I'd hate for any of it to be damaged."
So they do exactly that, which, Gojyo realizes with a groan, means moving closer to the people who want to kill them. He snorts. Like they count as people when they're this far gone. With a start, he is struck by the idea that he could have been one of their number, could still turn into one of them if he's not careful. He'd been in no danger before from the troubles that swept over the land, but now…
Then it occurs to Gojyo that maybe his shakujou won't manifest. He goes cold and clammy in an instant. Sure, it worked before when he was still…he veers away from that thought. It has to work. Goku's nyoi-bo works, after all, and he's always been a youkai with a limiter. But, the voice in his head that sounds like Sanzo reminds him, his situation is different. Nobody that he's ever heard of has had this happen.
He concentrates and summons his shakujou. There's a moment of reluctance and the bracelet around his wrist goes heavy and warm, and there's just enough time for him to start panicking before the comforting weight of his weapon drops into his hands. Gojyo looks down at it, more out of habit than anything else, and does a double-take.
"Well shit," he says. "That's new."
The shakujou's different in small ways: the pole is a bit fancier, the blades a little more sharply curved. The release for the chain is further up now, and at first Gojyo doesn't understand why. There's something odd about the crescent blade, too. The changes make him nervous, which he channels into anger. He doesn't need to be messing with a weapon that's less familiar than it used to be. He really doesn't need this, not now when a couple hundred youkai are howling for his blood and are pouring over the top of the nearest sand dune. He's going to be fucked if he can't wield it with his usual skill.
While Hakkai exchanges opening pleasantries with the apparent leaders of the mob, Gojyo gives the shakujou a spin.
Oh. He grins for the first time in weeks. Wicked.
The crescent blade is now, in fact, two blades stacked on top of each other, one fixed in place at the end of the chain and the other free to slide around and rotate three hundred and sixty degrees over the first blade; the points of that second crescent actually come up over the grip and past the old chain release before coming around again to rest on top of the fixed half. No wonder the release was so high now. Any lower and he'd shear off a finger trying to use the damn thing.
The youkai are practically on top of them. Gojyo looks around, briefly. Sanzo's got his gun and is sneering at the would-be assassins. The air crackles with Hakkai's qi. Goku has the biggest smile on his face, nyoi-bo extended and at the ready. The others are well out of the path of his shakujou. Good.
"Hey Goku," he says.
The kid glances over at him.
"Yeah?" he says.
"Race you to the top of the hill," Gojyo says.
Goku laughs, his eyes flashing, excitable as always.
"You're on," he says.
He turns back to focus on the seething mass of bodies. Gojyo catches Sanzo's eye, then Hakkai's. They exchange nods, words no longer necessary because they've done this so many times before. On the count of three: one, two, three.
Gojyo thumbs the release.
The bodies are calf-deep. Supplies strapped to his back, sweating like a pig under the hot, hot sun, Gojyo reflects that, just maybe, he went a little overboard in trying out his new-and-improved shakujou. Oh, to be sure, his baby had worked like a freaking charm. Severed limbs, severed heads, and youkai cut in half were what he'd expected---and received. He just hadn't thought it would be quite so messy. A blade that makes a complete, circular rotation? Also splatters in a full circle. Though Gojyo had escaped some of the mess, it hadn't been physically possible to dodge of all it, not with the force he'd used to cut through the crowd.
And then comes the issue of friendly fire.
Sanzo had yelled at him for tagging his robes. He knows Gojyo's an idiot but really, he'd thought the kappa could handle himself in a fight. Goku had punched him a bit because, dammit, does Gojyo know how hard it is to get intestines out of hair when they've been baked in by the desert sun? And what the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Hakkai had informed Gojyo that he could cart their gear over to the (thankfully real) oasis, since he'd managed to hit Hakuryuu with a severed hand, and Hakuryuu consequently does not feel like being a jeep for the time being. Hakkai hadn't said anything about the gore on his own clothing, but Gojyo guesses he's pretty pissed. Hakkai's tight-lipped smile had said it all.
Truth be told, Gojyo's a little angry with himself, too. If he could have controlled his weapon better, he wouldn't now be carrying supplies for four people across a mile of desert in the middle of the day. He wouldn't be wading through a field of stinking, rapidly bloating bodies. This is punishment because, pure and simple, he can't control himself. There's no denying that his weapon is an extension of himself, and he has no excuse for letting it get out of control. He should have done better. A niggling voice inside him says that he could have, too, if he'd just tried a little harder.
Though it's supposed to be punishment to carry the gear, the packs on his back are practically feather-light. Gojyo shifts the straps of the burden tied to him and marvels. He'd thought he'd been strong as a hanyou. That strength, however, is nothing compared to how he feels now, even with a limiter. What weighs him down is guilt. He feels bad about his lack of control, true, but there's been a thought at the back of his head this whole time which causes far more guilt than what he feels over splattering his friends--his comrades--with things formerly on the insides of youkai bodies.
Gojyo wipes the sweat off his brow and, ever so lightly, passes over the scars on his cheek.
"If mother could see me now," he says.
And then he laughs at himself, more than a little bitter. It's a stupid thought. Being a youkai now does nothing to change his past. His heart twists in his chest, and he forces himself to focus on his surroundings. He's startled to discover he's finally made it through the leftovers from the fight and is now walking on beautifully clean, stench-less sand.
Not long after that, Gojyo reaches the oasis. There's maybe a dozen trees and a scrawny covering of grass on the ground, all surrounding a pool of water. It looks like paradise. He drops the baggage under of one of the trees and stands for a moment, enjoying the shade. He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head.
"Ah, there you are, Gojyo," says Hakkai.
Gojyo doesn't quite jump out of his skin. Hakkai's still amazingly, sneakily quiet, even to Gojyo's enhanced senses. He opens one eye.
"Stuff's here," says Gojyo.
"I see," says Hakkai. "Here. Take this."
He hands a bucket to Gojyo. Something thunks in the bottom of it. Gojyo opens his other eye as well and tips the bucket to look into it. There's a bar of soap and a washcloth.
"I thought you might want to wash before we get on the road again," says Hakkai. "Hakuryuu doesn't like it when his upholstery gets dirty, you know."
Gojyo stares at Hakkai. Hakkai smiles back.
"Hurry along," he says. "Sanzo has already expressed his desire to leave."
Gojyo looks around for the monk and spots him, halfway around the pond, apparently napping in the shade. Goku is halfway up the nearest tree to Sanzo, keeping watch.
"Doesn't look like he's ready to hit the road to me," says Gojyo.
Hakkai's smile falters for a second before brightening again.
"Yes, well," he says. "I hoped we might have a chance to talk before he wakes."
"Talk?" says Gojyo. "Look, if it's about the backsplash, I'm really, really sorry, okay?"
He moves forward a step or two, like he's heading to the edge of the water to bathe. He's got a sinking feeling about what Hakkai wants.
"It can wait, right?" Gojyo says. "But yeah. Thanks for the soap and all."
Gojyo keeps up the nonchalant act though, in reality, he's sweating bullets. He inches his way around Hakkai, step by step. He breathes a sigh of relief. He's clear. His nerves begin to settle again and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, things are going his way today, blood and gore notwithstanding.
Fast as a snake strikes, Hakkai reaches out and grabs him around the wrist, his fingers closing around the bronze bracelet. Gojyo freezes, filled with the urge to run away, now, but unable to because Hakkai's hand is hard and his grip makes the metal dig in. Hakkai could probably break his wrist without trying. When Hakkai speaks, his voice is low and soft.
"We need to talk about this," says Hakkai. "I can be patient, but I have just about reached the end of what I can tolerate."
Hakkai is a fucking force of nature when he wants to be, and it looks like now is one of those times. Gojyo finds himself nodding, agreeing to Hakkai's politely-phrased demands, even when he knows it's the last thing he wants to do. What he wants is for Hakkai to let it go. Gojyo wants him to forget all about the bracelet--the limiter--so that he himself can go on ignoring it too. But Hakkai won't. Gojyo keeps nodding absently until Hakkai's grip loosens. Hakkai, creating the illusion of privacy, turns away from him and starts rummaging through the supplies.
Gojyo is left alone with his bucket and washcloth and soap. He wrinkles his nose at the smell that's emanating from his clothes, a smell he's only just noticing now. He looks down at his clothes and sighs. He's going to have to change into something else. And then, because he can't help it, he sneaks a look at the wrist with the bracelet. It's still there. More than that, it's shining: though the rest of him is covered in dirt and dust and worse things, the bracelet is clean. Gojyo has the terrible thought that maybe it will look like it's newly forged for the rest of his life. Maybe even after he's dead. He doesn't know what happens to a youkai's limiter after death, and the ones he's met on this journey don't seem to have any.
Frowning down at his limiter, he traces the hinge with one fingertip. Gojyo remembers what his claws looked like and shudders. He can't imagine living his life out like this. Who would choose to be a youkai? How is this better than what he'd had? Gojyo clenches his hand. If he'd had claws, he'd have sliced his palm. At length, he forces himself to look away.
This might be the answer to someone else's prayers, but it isn't the answer to his.
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So...Those couple paragraphs where I switched tenses were a killer, for some reason. I dithered over which tense was appropriate. I confess, writing this story in present tense throws me for a loop anyway--even though I think it reads better in present, I write most easily in past tense. It's an effort to stay in present tense and then to switch out of it, on purpose...ugh.
I'm still thinking about a big giant index...but for now, my brains are swimming with tiredness.
~later
For the sake of continuity, part three is here.
I've done a little decision-making and plotting, and I've firmed up that this story will be short-ish, having only four parts. I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it will come out under fifty pages/20,000 words. (Sad, I know, that that would be what I'm calling short these days.)
The rundown on this story is a little like this:
Title: The Hanyou's Prayer
Rating: R? PG-13? Something like that.
Summary: Gojyo has a bit of a mishap and has to live with the life-altering consequences.
Warnings: Alternate reality taking place in and branching off from the canon universe; probable, eventual sex between Gojyo and Hakkai; swearing and probable canon-appropriate violence; present tense and gratuitous use of italics. This is a rough draft and is therefore prone to my own special, neglectful brand of editing. If something's super wonky, let me know, yeah?
For those of you coming upon this now, the first part can be found here.
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It's been twenty-three days now. They're traveling across another desert wasteland, no other life forms in sight save the odd vulture that gives them the once-over. Gojyo sighs and shifts around in the backseat, aware of every single lump and spring buried in the upholstery. He chalks this hypersensitivity up as another unwanted side-effect. Gods-damned palace. Fucking accident. Another day under the blazing hot sun might just drive Gojyo over the edge. There’s nothing out there but sand and rocks. As the jeep jolts over a sand-covered rock, the sunlight bounces off the bronze bracelet. He blinks away spots that float in his vision.
Gojyo's dying for a drink and, truth be told, could really use the mind-blurring effects of alcohol. He glances down at the metal wrapped around his wrist. Too bad his…condition…has made it impossible to get drunk with what they keep in the jeep. Gods know he's tried. Maybe if they hit an inn somewhere, he can manage to drown a portion of his woes, but warm beer out of the cooler doesn't cut it, not when every jerk and sway of the car navigating the rough ground sends the ends of Sanzo's sutra flapping into his line of sight.
He's still surprised by the clarity of his sight, how sharp his hearing is, how even his senses of taste and smell and touch have improved. Gojyo smokes more these days, trying to blot out sensation and memory alike with cigarette smoke. Mostly it hasn't worked: he hasn't gone a millisecond without his limiter, and he can't stop thinking about it.
He pushes the hair out of his face and it's immediately blown back, along with enough road grit to make his eyes water. He reaches for his beer. It's empty. So is the cooler. Gojyo sighs and his hair slaps him across the cheek.
"We coming to a town any time soon, Hakkai?" says Gojyo. "Supplies are running low, if you catch my drift."
He catches Hakkai's eye in the rearview mirror and waggles his empty beer can in the air.
"Oh?" says Hakkai. "If you'd like, you can check the map, but I believe we won't reach civilization until tomorrow morning."
The gentle click and thud of the glove box opening precedes Sanzo shoving the map in Gojyo's face.
"Hey, watch it!" says Gojyo. "You almost poked my eye out!"
Sanzo's snort is audible. So is the flick of his lighter. Gojyo inhales greedily, hoping to suck up whatever second-hand smoke isn't blown out of the jeep. His cigarettes ran out yesterday morning, and Sanzo, being the stingy bastard that he is, has been refusing to share his.
Granted, Sanzo doesn't share anything with Gojyo these days; Gojyo isn't sure whether or not to be grateful that Sanzo hasn't so much as looked at him--let alone hit, shot at, or used Gojyo to sharpen his tongue on--since they'd found Goku and Hakkai and had left that stupid, stupid palace. Temple. Whatever. But that was three weeks ago, easy. Gojyo suspects Sanzo is waiting for the ideal moment (probably the second he thinks Gojyo's forgotten what happened) to lay into him. He snorts. Not going to happen. He's not forgetting jack.
Gojyo unfolds the map and traces the lightly penciled line that marks their journey. He doesn't know who's been drawing it, Hakkai or Sanzo, but he has yet to figure out how anyone knows where they've been. He frowns down at the tiny dot on the line that represents that great, empty, bronze-doored palace.
"Well?" says Sanzo.
Startled, Gojyo stares at the back of Sanzo's seat, not daring to try to make eye contact in one of the mirrors. He blurts out the first thing that comes into his head.
"You sound like shit," says Gojyo.
And it's true. Sanzo sounds awful. He sounds exhausted and dried-out and like he's chain-smoked his way through an entire truckload of cigarettes. As if to confirm this, Sanzo starts coughing and doesn't stop until he's gasping for breath.
Goku leans forward over the seats, shoving his way into Sanzo's personal space…and Gojyo's knees.
"You okay, Sanzo?" says Goku. "Hey, Hakkai, maybe we should pull over so Sanzo can have a rest."
"Move it, monkey," says Gojyo. "Sit in your own damn seat. His holiness is fine."
His heart isn't in the banter today, and his sarcasm falls flat, sounding suspiciously like worry. He crumples up the map and tosses it forward. Hakkai catches it with one hand, his sigh audible even above the road noise. Gojyo winces at the thought that maybe it's his hearing that's gotten sharper and not Hakkai's expressions of dismay and resignation.
"I'm afraid there's nowhere to stop," says Hakkai. "It's best to press on. Perhaps we'll be able to make it to a town a little sooner that way."
"I'm not an invalid," says Sanzo. "Don't talk about me like I can't hear you."
There's the sound of his fan sliding out of his sleeve, and Goku must hear it too because he bounces back into his seat and crosses his arms.
"It's just an idea," says Goku. "Anyway, I'm so bored! There's nothing to do."
"You can be bored quietly," says Sanzo. "So shut it."
Sanzo lays the fan on the dashboard in the space that's visible between the two front seats. It's in easy reach should anyone--namely Goku--keep fussing. He takes the map from Hakkai and begins to smooth it out. Gojyo knows Sanzo probably knows what bothered him about it, and so he makes an effort to look away over the landscape and not, as he'd like, at Sanzo for some sign of recognition. Understanding would be way too much to hope for. Not that Sanzo could even begin to understand this.
Besides the physical side-effects, which are bad enough on their own, there's the issue of the limiter itself. He sometimes feels a resonance in it, a tingle that shoots through the metal and through his body, reaching out to the sutra on Sanzo's shoulders. It increases until Gojyo can barely think if Sanzo is too close or is angry enough that the sutra responds to his emotions…in other words, almost all the time.
What's worse is the way everyone's avoiding saying anything about the bracelet. Gojyo doesn't want anyone to know what's happened to him. It's kind of impossible to think about, let alone explain. He knows he'll die if he has to talk about it. Talking is for pansies who aren't on this road-trip from hell, people who aren't being sent to the showdown of the century.
The thought makes him queasy.
He is equally certain that Goku and Hakkai already know and have known since the day that statue turned his life upside down. Gojyo catches Goku staring at the limiter, from time to time, but the kid never says anything about it. Usually politeness and tact are Hakkai's bailiwick. Goku has picked a hell of a time to stop being his usual annoying self.
Gojyo looks down at his wrist for the millionth time in the past three weeks. He wonders what Hakkai would think. Does think. Not that Hakkai doesn't already know something's eating away at him, but it's one thing to suspect that Hakkai's holding back and another to actually want him to say just exactly what he means when he looks at Gojyo a certain way and gives one of his patented false smiles.
Gojyo hasn't been acting like his normal self. He knows this, and it bothers him. Deeply. He flashes back to Sanzo's words at the palace: there isn't anything human left in him. Gojyo frowns. He twists the bracelet around his wrist and studies the hinge. It would be so easy to just take the damn thing off.
Does this mean he'll never get back to being himself? He's a little freaked out at the idea that the best parts of him are either gone now or, maybe, came from his youkai half to begin with. Knowing how Hakkai feels about the topic in general does nothing to comfort him. Fuck, if he can't confess this to his best friend, what options does he have? Hakkai would probably forgive anything else, anything else at all. If Gojyo had killed someone--several someones, even--Hakkai would probably just smile and ask him what he wanted for dinner. But this?
Hakkai would never talk to him again, and that's almost worse than knowing he's going to spend the rest of his life as a youkai.
Gojyo perks up at the sound of the jeep downshifting. He pays more attention to the landscape and sees a small grove of trees. Hakkai's turning them toward it. This far out in the desert, trees mean a good water source. Looks like they'll be making an unscheduled stop after all.
"Hey, Hakkai. Was this on the map?" Gojyo says. "Not that I'm complaining."
His mood brightens at the thought of stretching his legs. A few minutes out of the jeep, away from the others, would be really, really nice.
"No," says Hakkai. "But, I might add, the map is nowhere near a comprehensive guide to the land."
"I don't like it," says Sanzo. "It's awfully convenient, wouldn't you say?"
There is a short pause, with no sounds but the crunch of the tires rolling over some gravel. Hakkai sighs.
"We need the water," says Hakkai. "And please don't try to tell me that you would rather keep driving, Sanzo."
Apparently Sanzo's not the only one running on empty today.
"If you're leading us into a trap," says Sanzo.
Goku interrupts, and Sanzo doesn't have a chance to finish.
"If it's a trap, we'll kick their asses!" he says. "Right Sanzo? And anyway, a fight would be way less boring than counting the rocks that go by."
Gojyo smiles. It feels like old times again.
"Like you can count that high, ya dumb monkey," says Gojyo.
He looks over at Goku, and Goku seems cheered up at the dig.
"I can count plenty high," says Goku. "And at least I'm not the one that--"
The occupants of the jeep go silent, watching the horizon with fascinated horror.
Youkai start popping up from the sand that lies between the jeep and the oasis. Hordes of youkai. A vast sea of screaming, slavering, clamoring youkai bent on taking them out. Just great. Just fucking great. Instead of stretching his legs and maybe sitting in whatever shade the oasis can afford them, Gojyo's going to be working up even more of a sweat.
Hakkai brakes hard, shifting down and stopping fast. In anticipation of the fight, they all jump out, and the jeep transforms into Hakuryuu. Their baggage is dumped unceremoniously to the ground. The little white dragon flutters away to a safe distance, leaving the four of them and their pile of gear behind. The rumble-roar of the youkai crowd grows louder. Gojyo can pick out the clash of weapons and the stamping of many, many feet.
"I realize this terrain affords little advantage to anyone," says Hakkai. "However, I suggest we move away from our supplies. I'd hate for any of it to be damaged."
So they do exactly that, which, Gojyo realizes with a groan, means moving closer to the people who want to kill them. He snorts. Like they count as people when they're this far gone. With a start, he is struck by the idea that he could have been one of their number, could still turn into one of them if he's not careful. He'd been in no danger before from the troubles that swept over the land, but now…
Then it occurs to Gojyo that maybe his shakujou won't manifest. He goes cold and clammy in an instant. Sure, it worked before when he was still…he veers away from that thought. It has to work. Goku's nyoi-bo works, after all, and he's always been a youkai with a limiter. But, the voice in his head that sounds like Sanzo reminds him, his situation is different. Nobody that he's ever heard of has had this happen.
He concentrates and summons his shakujou. There's a moment of reluctance and the bracelet around his wrist goes heavy and warm, and there's just enough time for him to start panicking before the comforting weight of his weapon drops into his hands. Gojyo looks down at it, more out of habit than anything else, and does a double-take.
"Well shit," he says. "That's new."
The shakujou's different in small ways: the pole is a bit fancier, the blades a little more sharply curved. The release for the chain is further up now, and at first Gojyo doesn't understand why. There's something odd about the crescent blade, too. The changes make him nervous, which he channels into anger. He doesn't need to be messing with a weapon that's less familiar than it used to be. He really doesn't need this, not now when a couple hundred youkai are howling for his blood and are pouring over the top of the nearest sand dune. He's going to be fucked if he can't wield it with his usual skill.
While Hakkai exchanges opening pleasantries with the apparent leaders of the mob, Gojyo gives the shakujou a spin.
Oh. He grins for the first time in weeks. Wicked.
The crescent blade is now, in fact, two blades stacked on top of each other, one fixed in place at the end of the chain and the other free to slide around and rotate three hundred and sixty degrees over the first blade; the points of that second crescent actually come up over the grip and past the old chain release before coming around again to rest on top of the fixed half. No wonder the release was so high now. Any lower and he'd shear off a finger trying to use the damn thing.
The youkai are practically on top of them. Gojyo looks around, briefly. Sanzo's got his gun and is sneering at the would-be assassins. The air crackles with Hakkai's qi. Goku has the biggest smile on his face, nyoi-bo extended and at the ready. The others are well out of the path of his shakujou. Good.
"Hey Goku," he says.
The kid glances over at him.
"Yeah?" he says.
"Race you to the top of the hill," Gojyo says.
Goku laughs, his eyes flashing, excitable as always.
"You're on," he says.
He turns back to focus on the seething mass of bodies. Gojyo catches Sanzo's eye, then Hakkai's. They exchange nods, words no longer necessary because they've done this so many times before. On the count of three: one, two, three.
Gojyo thumbs the release.
The bodies are calf-deep. Supplies strapped to his back, sweating like a pig under the hot, hot sun, Gojyo reflects that, just maybe, he went a little overboard in trying out his new-and-improved shakujou. Oh, to be sure, his baby had worked like a freaking charm. Severed limbs, severed heads, and youkai cut in half were what he'd expected---and received. He just hadn't thought it would be quite so messy. A blade that makes a complete, circular rotation? Also splatters in a full circle. Though Gojyo had escaped some of the mess, it hadn't been physically possible to dodge of all it, not with the force he'd used to cut through the crowd.
And then comes the issue of friendly fire.
Sanzo had yelled at him for tagging his robes. He knows Gojyo's an idiot but really, he'd thought the kappa could handle himself in a fight. Goku had punched him a bit because, dammit, does Gojyo know how hard it is to get intestines out of hair when they've been baked in by the desert sun? And what the hell was wrong with him, anyway? Hakkai had informed Gojyo that he could cart their gear over to the (thankfully real) oasis, since he'd managed to hit Hakuryuu with a severed hand, and Hakuryuu consequently does not feel like being a jeep for the time being. Hakkai hadn't said anything about the gore on his own clothing, but Gojyo guesses he's pretty pissed. Hakkai's tight-lipped smile had said it all.
Truth be told, Gojyo's a little angry with himself, too. If he could have controlled his weapon better, he wouldn't now be carrying supplies for four people across a mile of desert in the middle of the day. He wouldn't be wading through a field of stinking, rapidly bloating bodies. This is punishment because, pure and simple, he can't control himself. There's no denying that his weapon is an extension of himself, and he has no excuse for letting it get out of control. He should have done better. A niggling voice inside him says that he could have, too, if he'd just tried a little harder.
Though it's supposed to be punishment to carry the gear, the packs on his back are practically feather-light. Gojyo shifts the straps of the burden tied to him and marvels. He'd thought he'd been strong as a hanyou. That strength, however, is nothing compared to how he feels now, even with a limiter. What weighs him down is guilt. He feels bad about his lack of control, true, but there's been a thought at the back of his head this whole time which causes far more guilt than what he feels over splattering his friends--his comrades--with things formerly on the insides of youkai bodies.
Gojyo wipes the sweat off his brow and, ever so lightly, passes over the scars on his cheek.
"If mother could see me now," he says.
And then he laughs at himself, more than a little bitter. It's a stupid thought. Being a youkai now does nothing to change his past. His heart twists in his chest, and he forces himself to focus on his surroundings. He's startled to discover he's finally made it through the leftovers from the fight and is now walking on beautifully clean, stench-less sand.
Not long after that, Gojyo reaches the oasis. There's maybe a dozen trees and a scrawny covering of grass on the ground, all surrounding a pool of water. It looks like paradise. He drops the baggage under of one of the trees and stands for a moment, enjoying the shade. He closes his eyes and folds his arms behind his head.
"Ah, there you are, Gojyo," says Hakkai.
Gojyo doesn't quite jump out of his skin. Hakkai's still amazingly, sneakily quiet, even to Gojyo's enhanced senses. He opens one eye.
"Stuff's here," says Gojyo.
"I see," says Hakkai. "Here. Take this."
He hands a bucket to Gojyo. Something thunks in the bottom of it. Gojyo opens his other eye as well and tips the bucket to look into it. There's a bar of soap and a washcloth.
"I thought you might want to wash before we get on the road again," says Hakkai. "Hakuryuu doesn't like it when his upholstery gets dirty, you know."
Gojyo stares at Hakkai. Hakkai smiles back.
"Hurry along," he says. "Sanzo has already expressed his desire to leave."
Gojyo looks around for the monk and spots him, halfway around the pond, apparently napping in the shade. Goku is halfway up the nearest tree to Sanzo, keeping watch.
"Doesn't look like he's ready to hit the road to me," says Gojyo.
Hakkai's smile falters for a second before brightening again.
"Yes, well," he says. "I hoped we might have a chance to talk before he wakes."
"Talk?" says Gojyo. "Look, if it's about the backsplash, I'm really, really sorry, okay?"
He moves forward a step or two, like he's heading to the edge of the water to bathe. He's got a sinking feeling about what Hakkai wants.
"It can wait, right?" Gojyo says. "But yeah. Thanks for the soap and all."
Gojyo keeps up the nonchalant act though, in reality, he's sweating bullets. He inches his way around Hakkai, step by step. He breathes a sigh of relief. He's clear. His nerves begin to settle again and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, things are going his way today, blood and gore notwithstanding.
Fast as a snake strikes, Hakkai reaches out and grabs him around the wrist, his fingers closing around the bronze bracelet. Gojyo freezes, filled with the urge to run away, now, but unable to because Hakkai's hand is hard and his grip makes the metal dig in. Hakkai could probably break his wrist without trying. When Hakkai speaks, his voice is low and soft.
"We need to talk about this," says Hakkai. "I can be patient, but I have just about reached the end of what I can tolerate."
Hakkai is a fucking force of nature when he wants to be, and it looks like now is one of those times. Gojyo finds himself nodding, agreeing to Hakkai's politely-phrased demands, even when he knows it's the last thing he wants to do. What he wants is for Hakkai to let it go. Gojyo wants him to forget all about the bracelet--the limiter--so that he himself can go on ignoring it too. But Hakkai won't. Gojyo keeps nodding absently until Hakkai's grip loosens. Hakkai, creating the illusion of privacy, turns away from him and starts rummaging through the supplies.
Gojyo is left alone with his bucket and washcloth and soap. He wrinkles his nose at the smell that's emanating from his clothes, a smell he's only just noticing now. He looks down at his clothes and sighs. He's going to have to change into something else. And then, because he can't help it, he sneaks a look at the wrist with the bracelet. It's still there. More than that, it's shining: though the rest of him is covered in dirt and dust and worse things, the bracelet is clean. Gojyo has the terrible thought that maybe it will look like it's newly forged for the rest of his life. Maybe even after he's dead. He doesn't know what happens to a youkai's limiter after death, and the ones he's met on this journey don't seem to have any.
Frowning down at his limiter, he traces the hinge with one fingertip. Gojyo remembers what his claws looked like and shudders. He can't imagine living his life out like this. Who would choose to be a youkai? How is this better than what he'd had? Gojyo clenches his hand. If he'd had claws, he'd have sliced his palm. At length, he forces himself to look away.
This might be the answer to someone else's prayers, but it isn't the answer to his.
=======
So...Those couple paragraphs where I switched tenses were a killer, for some reason. I dithered over which tense was appropriate. I confess, writing this story in present tense throws me for a loop anyway--even though I think it reads better in present, I write most easily in past tense. It's an effort to stay in present tense and then to switch out of it, on purpose...ugh.
I'm still thinking about a big giant index...but for now, my brains are swimming with tiredness.
~later
For the sake of continuity, part three is here.