Fic: The Birth of the Sun
Title: The Birth of the Sun
Author: Me
Rating: Pg. PG-13? It's pretty easy.
Warnings: baby!Sanzo, and some Ocs. Otherwise... not much.
Parings: None really. Very mild 39.
Summary: Everything has a beginning.
A/N: Had this idea for a while, and I was acctually inspired to do this by a picture I saw of Koumyou pulling a baby!Sanzo out of the river. ^___^ I can't remember who drew it though. Anyway, please enjoy.
C&C appreciated.
The Birth of the Sun
She ran.
Everything hurt, and really, there was no point in running. They would catch her soon enough. Her life would be spared, she knew, but her infant son would not. And that, for her, was worse then death itself.
She was too young to be a mother; she knew this, yet she couldn’t stand to give up her newborn. She loved him so much that it hurt and she would endure the burning all throughout her body for him. She owed him that, at the very least.
She stumbled, gasping in surprise, but continued running. She hadn’t even had time to grab her shoes before fleeing for her life. Thorns and rocks bit into her feet painfully, causing her to stumble and mutter curses. She began to slow, and it was only by pure stubbornness that she continued onwards. Her infant child was cradled to her chest, wailing loudly as she ran. Breathing was becoming difficult and everything hurt; she knew that it wouldn’t be much longer until her pursuers caught up with her, but to hell if she was going to make it easy on them.
She had been a fool to think he would love her. Her baby’s father had been a traveler who had been making his way across the countryside. He was charming with a wonderful smile and funny stories that he told late into the evening. When he wished to stay the night, her father had readily agreed and allowed him to stay in their house. She was completely besotted, blinded by his charming good looks and radiant smile. He was just passing through her small village, but many asked him to stay. Her father even offered her hand in marriage as a bargaining chip.
Normally, her fiery temper would spark up if he even so much as offered her out like livestock, but she had been too delighted to care. She would’ve loved to be his wife, and already began to imagine a long life together.
However, he politely declined, which crushed her. Surely she was pretty enough? Some often taunted her, saying she was plain and didn’t act as nearly ladylike as she should. She swore like a sailor, couldn’t cook or clean worth a damn and had a nasty habit of chewing on her dark hair when she was nervous. To be blunt, she wasn’t perfect. Which annoyed her to some extent, since that’s what men wanted. Perfect, pampered little wives who could cook and clean and take care of the children. She wasn’t anything like that. Still, she would’ve learned to be proper and upkempt if it meant he would marry her.
Later that night she crept into his room and slept with him. Surely he would become her husband after she gave him her virginity? However, when she crept into his room he merely stared at her for a moment. She figured he might be confused; who wouldn’t be after seeing a strange girl in their room completely naked? She suddenly worried he would push her away from the look in his green eyes. She wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment. She suddenly felt foolish, feeling her face heating up in the dim light. However, he merely smiled at her with that same charming smile that had won her over. He reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her tenderly in a way that made her melt under his touch and succumb to him completely.
It should’ve been the best night of her life. The sex was wonderful, and he was so kind to her, understanding that it was her first time. He was absolutely beautiful above her, bathed in the moonlight. His sun-kissed blond locks shone as she threaded her fingers in it; her heart swelled with love and affection for the man she was convinced would be her husband.
However, the next morning she woke to find herself alone. He had left the village long before she awoke and robbed her family blind in the process.
Her father had been outraged, cursing the charming stranger’s name mercilessly. She had decided to avoid telling her father about sleeping with the stranger, but that became unavoidable as later she had learned that the man had impregnated her.
Her father demanded she get rid of the baby, hating the constant reminder of his mistake. However, she continued to refuse and when he tried to take it by force, she ran.
Which was what left her in the present situation. She couldn’t stand the thought of what her father might do to her baby. She hated the idea of giving him up, but she dreaded what might happen to him otherwise. It nearly tore her heart in two; what was best for her child and her own selfishness warred within her.
She finally stopped to rest behind a tree, dragging in ragged breaths and trying to calm herself. Her chest ached, and despite her desperate need to run, she felt as though she couldn’t move another step. Her muscles burned all the way from her legs and up her back. Her stomach was cramping up and her arms hurt from clutching the bundle so close to her chest. Her lungs ached and she felt as though she couldn’t enough air to sustain herself.
Her infant son continued to wail, tears leaking out and pouring down the sides of his face. She felt her heart clench and her own eyes began watering before tears started to fall. “Please be quiet…” she whispered, pressing her lips to her child’s soft cheek, hoping to soothe him into silence. “Please, just be quiet, my baby… I don’t want them to hurt you…”
Her child, it seemed, had the same stubbornness his mother had and refused to be quiet. She felt at the end of the line; she had completely run out of options, feeling open and defeated.
She knew that her pursuers were close, and prayed that would simply look past her. She could feel the tears making their way down her face and she sobbed silently as her muscles shook. She felt certain she was going to collapse before the scent of a fire caught her nose. Her eyes darted up, frantic and searching for the source. Without a thought she darted off towards it, sensing salvation at hand.
She found a small encampment and could’ve died of pure joy. A gypsy woman was covered in thick heavy fabric and cheap jewelry, seated next to the fire. The gypsy couldn’t have been any older then herself, and she jumped top her feet when she stumbled into the clearing with her child.
“Please,” she gasped, feeling sweat dripping down around the sides of her face. “Please take him.”
The gypsy looked at her worriedly even as she accepted the wailing infant that was thrust into her arms. “Why child,” she said. “What’s wrong? Tell old Finny what happened.”
She shook her head. “No… can’t,” she gasped. Slowly, she took the rosary beads off from around her neck and gently wrapped them around the bundle in the gypsy’s arms. She could feel herself shaking, tears making their way down her face despite her inner protests.
She leaned down and pressed her lips to her child’s forehead. “Mommy loves you,” she whispered brokenly. “She just wishes that she was strong enough to protect you…”
With that, she turned, darting off back into the forest to return home empty handed.
---
It had nearly been two weeks since the strange woman had given the gypsy her child, and she was beginning to grow frustrated. The child had not stopped crying since it had been put into her care, and it was beginning to give her a headache-correction, it was far past the point of headache and boarderlining on concussion. Could someone get a concussion from sound only? The gypsy thought it possible.
She sighed. It wouldn’t be so bad if the child would just shut up. He cried constantly, even when she fed him or cared for him or held him. He slept sometimes, but when he would awake he would continue to cry. She was getting close to the end of her mental tether; she was going to snap soon.
To add to it, business was slow. She sold hand-made trinkets and oftentimes her body if things were bad enough. However, not only was business bad, but she was spending all her time looking after the god-forsaken child. And to add to it, she couldn’t even sell her body with a child sobbing hysterically from somewhere in the back of her wagon.
She headed slowly towards the edge of the large Yangtze River. The mighty river could silence the child’s cries for good, and she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Her conscious wouldn’t take too kindly to that, but she would deal with it later if it meant she could finally get some food in her stomach.
The child’s rosary beads were wrapped tightly around the bundle so they wouldn’t come loose, and the gypsy added her own contribution to the little package. A simply nametag hung around his neck, with the characters for ‘Kouryuu’ carved into it. The old gypsy smiled at the sobbing form in her arms. It may have been stupid, but at least his tombstone would have a name on it when they found him.
“Sorry kid, but this is the end of the road,” she told him, rocking the infant in her arms. He suddenly stopped crying, violet eyes opening to peer up at her wearily. She felt her heart jerk; now he stopped crying. She tried a weakened smile on his part. “Sorry Kouryuu, it’s just business.”
And without a hint of remorse, she tossed the baby into the river. She watched the form disappear into the weeds, mud and water, before turning back towards her wagon.
---
“Oh dear.”
The young monk looked up suddenly at his master’s words, confusion drawing into his brow. The Sanzo monk next to him stopped walking back towards the temple, his brows knitting together in what looked to be annoyance. The white Sanzo robes that adorned his master made him look heavenly, along with the mark of the gods on his forehead and his long hair was tied back in a ponytail that hung part way down his back.
“Master Sanzo?” the monk called back cautiously. “Is something wrong?”
Bored eyes settled on him as the thirty-something year old man frowned. “I think I’m going to go back to the river now,” he said simply, causing the young man to raise a brow in question.
“But… why master Sanzo? We were just there.”
“I’ll be back later!” the other man replied cheerfully as he turned and began to head back towards the Yangtze River which they had just left. Koumyou Sanzo had insisted on visiting the river every day, as though he was looking for something. Today though, he seemed urgent to return, as though something was beckoning him to return to the water’s edge.
“Master Sanzo! You have a lecture to give!” the monk called back frantically.
“Tell them I got lost!” Koumyou called back good-naturedly before taking off towards the river at a run.
The young monk was stunned, watching his master run off. Koumyou had always struck him as a laid-back man, with no real hurry in life. He couldn’t recall a moment when the monk had ever run anywhere, even when his life had been at stake. What could cause the Sanzo priest to run so quickly?
The young monk sputtered out something before turning and following after his master.
There hadn’t been much rain that season, so the river had receded at least a foot, leaving nothing but thick, sticky mud for the children to play in. Tall bamboo stalks grew on either side of the riverbank, so it wasn’t hard to see the white form of his master darting in between the thin trees, making his way towards a certain spot in the river. The young monk could only wonder why his master was in such a hurry, and for what reason would drive him back to the riverside.
He stumbled after his master, gasping and wheezing as his body attempted to keep up with that of Koumyou’s. Finally he broke through the tree line, coming across the form of his master, thigh deep in thick, sticky mud.
Koumyou was standing in the mud, a clump cradled to his chest, so caked with mud that the monk couldn’t see what it was. Koumyou’s robes were ruined, mud completely staining the bottom half of his robes and his sleeves. There was even mud on his face and hair, where the monk assumed Koumyou scrambled to dig the lump from the riverbank.
Then, suddenly, a wailing filled the air and the young monk winced. A child? He thought. Master Koumyou jumped in there to save a baby?
“Isn’t he cute?” Koumyou asked, his trademark smile lining his features. He looked like an idiot who had found a new toy to play with, though the monk wouldn’t dare breathe those words aloud. Koumyou slumped down in the mud further, only to the displeasure of the monk on the shore. “I think I’ll keep him, poor thing.” He cooed and coddled at the child, rocking it in his arms until the baby finally began to grow silent.
“Master Sanzo, if you don’t mind,” the monk ventured, meeting the patient eyes of his master. “How did… why?”
Koumyou smiled kindly, understanding the reason for the monk’s confusion. “Because he called,” he said simply, turning back to the bundle in his arms. “I’ve been hearing him for a long time now. He’s been driving me crazy. I guess… I’ll have to take him with me.”
“Master Sanzo?”
The priest did not reply, instead moving to wipe away at a mud-caked wooden tag that sat around the child’s neck. A smile caught on his face when he caught sight of the words. “Kouryuu? How cute.”
Suddenly, far away, the sun pulled out from behind endless storm clouds, and a figure stirred in his sleep.
“The sun…?” he breathed, curling in closer to himself, the chains binding him clanking as he moved. He let out a soft sigh, hoping to drift back into the sleep he was half-immersed in. “I thought you left me for good…”
The sun began to shine again, but it would be years before it graced him with its light.
He could wait just a little bit longer; for the sun, he would wait forever.
___
Author: Me
Rating: Pg. PG-13? It's pretty easy.
Warnings: baby!Sanzo, and some Ocs. Otherwise... not much.
Parings: None really. Very mild 39.
Summary: Everything has a beginning.
A/N: Had this idea for a while, and I was acctually inspired to do this by a picture I saw of Koumyou pulling a baby!Sanzo out of the river. ^___^ I can't remember who drew it though. Anyway, please enjoy.
C&C appreciated.
The Birth of the Sun
She ran.
Everything hurt, and really, there was no point in running. They would catch her soon enough. Her life would be spared, she knew, but her infant son would not. And that, for her, was worse then death itself.
She was too young to be a mother; she knew this, yet she couldn’t stand to give up her newborn. She loved him so much that it hurt and she would endure the burning all throughout her body for him. She owed him that, at the very least.
She stumbled, gasping in surprise, but continued running. She hadn’t even had time to grab her shoes before fleeing for her life. Thorns and rocks bit into her feet painfully, causing her to stumble and mutter curses. She began to slow, and it was only by pure stubbornness that she continued onwards. Her infant child was cradled to her chest, wailing loudly as she ran. Breathing was becoming difficult and everything hurt; she knew that it wouldn’t be much longer until her pursuers caught up with her, but to hell if she was going to make it easy on them.
She had been a fool to think he would love her. Her baby’s father had been a traveler who had been making his way across the countryside. He was charming with a wonderful smile and funny stories that he told late into the evening. When he wished to stay the night, her father had readily agreed and allowed him to stay in their house. She was completely besotted, blinded by his charming good looks and radiant smile. He was just passing through her small village, but many asked him to stay. Her father even offered her hand in marriage as a bargaining chip.
Normally, her fiery temper would spark up if he even so much as offered her out like livestock, but she had been too delighted to care. She would’ve loved to be his wife, and already began to imagine a long life together.
However, he politely declined, which crushed her. Surely she was pretty enough? Some often taunted her, saying she was plain and didn’t act as nearly ladylike as she should. She swore like a sailor, couldn’t cook or clean worth a damn and had a nasty habit of chewing on her dark hair when she was nervous. To be blunt, she wasn’t perfect. Which annoyed her to some extent, since that’s what men wanted. Perfect, pampered little wives who could cook and clean and take care of the children. She wasn’t anything like that. Still, she would’ve learned to be proper and upkempt if it meant he would marry her.
Later that night she crept into his room and slept with him. Surely he would become her husband after she gave him her virginity? However, when she crept into his room he merely stared at her for a moment. She figured he might be confused; who wouldn’t be after seeing a strange girl in their room completely naked? She suddenly worried he would push her away from the look in his green eyes. She wouldn’t be able to handle the embarrassment. She suddenly felt foolish, feeling her face heating up in the dim light. However, he merely smiled at her with that same charming smile that had won her over. He reached out and pulled her to him, kissing her tenderly in a way that made her melt under his touch and succumb to him completely.
It should’ve been the best night of her life. The sex was wonderful, and he was so kind to her, understanding that it was her first time. He was absolutely beautiful above her, bathed in the moonlight. His sun-kissed blond locks shone as she threaded her fingers in it; her heart swelled with love and affection for the man she was convinced would be her husband.
However, the next morning she woke to find herself alone. He had left the village long before she awoke and robbed her family blind in the process.
Her father had been outraged, cursing the charming stranger’s name mercilessly. She had decided to avoid telling her father about sleeping with the stranger, but that became unavoidable as later she had learned that the man had impregnated her.
Her father demanded she get rid of the baby, hating the constant reminder of his mistake. However, she continued to refuse and when he tried to take it by force, she ran.
Which was what left her in the present situation. She couldn’t stand the thought of what her father might do to her baby. She hated the idea of giving him up, but she dreaded what might happen to him otherwise. It nearly tore her heart in two; what was best for her child and her own selfishness warred within her.
She finally stopped to rest behind a tree, dragging in ragged breaths and trying to calm herself. Her chest ached, and despite her desperate need to run, she felt as though she couldn’t move another step. Her muscles burned all the way from her legs and up her back. Her stomach was cramping up and her arms hurt from clutching the bundle so close to her chest. Her lungs ached and she felt as though she couldn’t enough air to sustain herself.
Her infant son continued to wail, tears leaking out and pouring down the sides of his face. She felt her heart clench and her own eyes began watering before tears started to fall. “Please be quiet…” she whispered, pressing her lips to her child’s soft cheek, hoping to soothe him into silence. “Please, just be quiet, my baby… I don’t want them to hurt you…”
Her child, it seemed, had the same stubbornness his mother had and refused to be quiet. She felt at the end of the line; she had completely run out of options, feeling open and defeated.
She knew that her pursuers were close, and prayed that would simply look past her. She could feel the tears making their way down her face and she sobbed silently as her muscles shook. She felt certain she was going to collapse before the scent of a fire caught her nose. Her eyes darted up, frantic and searching for the source. Without a thought she darted off towards it, sensing salvation at hand.
She found a small encampment and could’ve died of pure joy. A gypsy woman was covered in thick heavy fabric and cheap jewelry, seated next to the fire. The gypsy couldn’t have been any older then herself, and she jumped top her feet when she stumbled into the clearing with her child.
“Please,” she gasped, feeling sweat dripping down around the sides of her face. “Please take him.”
The gypsy looked at her worriedly even as she accepted the wailing infant that was thrust into her arms. “Why child,” she said. “What’s wrong? Tell old Finny what happened.”
She shook her head. “No… can’t,” she gasped. Slowly, she took the rosary beads off from around her neck and gently wrapped them around the bundle in the gypsy’s arms. She could feel herself shaking, tears making their way down her face despite her inner protests.
She leaned down and pressed her lips to her child’s forehead. “Mommy loves you,” she whispered brokenly. “She just wishes that she was strong enough to protect you…”
With that, she turned, darting off back into the forest to return home empty handed.
---
It had nearly been two weeks since the strange woman had given the gypsy her child, and she was beginning to grow frustrated. The child had not stopped crying since it had been put into her care, and it was beginning to give her a headache-correction, it was far past the point of headache and boarderlining on concussion. Could someone get a concussion from sound only? The gypsy thought it possible.
She sighed. It wouldn’t be so bad if the child would just shut up. He cried constantly, even when she fed him or cared for him or held him. He slept sometimes, but when he would awake he would continue to cry. She was getting close to the end of her mental tether; she was going to snap soon.
To add to it, business was slow. She sold hand-made trinkets and oftentimes her body if things were bad enough. However, not only was business bad, but she was spending all her time looking after the god-forsaken child. And to add to it, she couldn’t even sell her body with a child sobbing hysterically from somewhere in the back of her wagon.
She headed slowly towards the edge of the large Yangtze River. The mighty river could silence the child’s cries for good, and she wouldn’t have to deal with it anymore. Her conscious wouldn’t take too kindly to that, but she would deal with it later if it meant she could finally get some food in her stomach.
The child’s rosary beads were wrapped tightly around the bundle so they wouldn’t come loose, and the gypsy added her own contribution to the little package. A simply nametag hung around his neck, with the characters for ‘Kouryuu’ carved into it. The old gypsy smiled at the sobbing form in her arms. It may have been stupid, but at least his tombstone would have a name on it when they found him.
“Sorry kid, but this is the end of the road,” she told him, rocking the infant in her arms. He suddenly stopped crying, violet eyes opening to peer up at her wearily. She felt her heart jerk; now he stopped crying. She tried a weakened smile on his part. “Sorry Kouryuu, it’s just business.”
And without a hint of remorse, she tossed the baby into the river. She watched the form disappear into the weeds, mud and water, before turning back towards her wagon.
---
“Oh dear.”
The young monk looked up suddenly at his master’s words, confusion drawing into his brow. The Sanzo monk next to him stopped walking back towards the temple, his brows knitting together in what looked to be annoyance. The white Sanzo robes that adorned his master made him look heavenly, along with the mark of the gods on his forehead and his long hair was tied back in a ponytail that hung part way down his back.
“Master Sanzo?” the monk called back cautiously. “Is something wrong?”
Bored eyes settled on him as the thirty-something year old man frowned. “I think I’m going to go back to the river now,” he said simply, causing the young man to raise a brow in question.
“But… why master Sanzo? We were just there.”
“I’ll be back later!” the other man replied cheerfully as he turned and began to head back towards the Yangtze River which they had just left. Koumyou Sanzo had insisted on visiting the river every day, as though he was looking for something. Today though, he seemed urgent to return, as though something was beckoning him to return to the water’s edge.
“Master Sanzo! You have a lecture to give!” the monk called back frantically.
“Tell them I got lost!” Koumyou called back good-naturedly before taking off towards the river at a run.
The young monk was stunned, watching his master run off. Koumyou had always struck him as a laid-back man, with no real hurry in life. He couldn’t recall a moment when the monk had ever run anywhere, even when his life had been at stake. What could cause the Sanzo priest to run so quickly?
The young monk sputtered out something before turning and following after his master.
There hadn’t been much rain that season, so the river had receded at least a foot, leaving nothing but thick, sticky mud for the children to play in. Tall bamboo stalks grew on either side of the riverbank, so it wasn’t hard to see the white form of his master darting in between the thin trees, making his way towards a certain spot in the river. The young monk could only wonder why his master was in such a hurry, and for what reason would drive him back to the riverside.
He stumbled after his master, gasping and wheezing as his body attempted to keep up with that of Koumyou’s. Finally he broke through the tree line, coming across the form of his master, thigh deep in thick, sticky mud.
Koumyou was standing in the mud, a clump cradled to his chest, so caked with mud that the monk couldn’t see what it was. Koumyou’s robes were ruined, mud completely staining the bottom half of his robes and his sleeves. There was even mud on his face and hair, where the monk assumed Koumyou scrambled to dig the lump from the riverbank.
Then, suddenly, a wailing filled the air and the young monk winced. A child? He thought. Master Koumyou jumped in there to save a baby?
“Isn’t he cute?” Koumyou asked, his trademark smile lining his features. He looked like an idiot who had found a new toy to play with, though the monk wouldn’t dare breathe those words aloud. Koumyou slumped down in the mud further, only to the displeasure of the monk on the shore. “I think I’ll keep him, poor thing.” He cooed and coddled at the child, rocking it in his arms until the baby finally began to grow silent.
“Master Sanzo, if you don’t mind,” the monk ventured, meeting the patient eyes of his master. “How did… why?”
Koumyou smiled kindly, understanding the reason for the monk’s confusion. “Because he called,” he said simply, turning back to the bundle in his arms. “I’ve been hearing him for a long time now. He’s been driving me crazy. I guess… I’ll have to take him with me.”
“Master Sanzo?”
The priest did not reply, instead moving to wipe away at a mud-caked wooden tag that sat around the child’s neck. A smile caught on his face when he caught sight of the words. “Kouryuu? How cute.”
Suddenly, far away, the sun pulled out from behind endless storm clouds, and a figure stirred in his sleep.
“The sun…?” he breathed, curling in closer to himself, the chains binding him clanking as he moved. He let out a soft sigh, hoping to drift back into the sleep he was half-immersed in. “I thought you left me for good…”
The sun began to shine again, but it would be years before it graced him with its light.
He could wait just a little bit longer; for the sun, he would wait forever.
___