Red Things | By : GhostHelwig Category: Gensomaden Saiyuki > General Views: 1163 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Gensomaden Saiyuki, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer – I do not
own or profit from Saiyuki. It belongs
to Kazuya Minekura.
So don’t ask me for money, okay?
I got nothin’.
Author’s Note – This
was written in maybe twenty minutes, and I have no idea what I was
thinking. Very, very dark. Rated R for (story-SPOILER!) character
death, violence, some mentioned slash, and gore. Contains SPOILERS for the Kanan/Hakkai
storyline, as well as references to a certain conversation that took place, I
believe, in the arc where we find out how everyone met. This story could technically take place
anywhere you want, though...
Anyway, enjoy (if you
can). Peace, all.
Red Things
by GhostHelwig
It was strange, really.
Sanzo always seemed so cold, but inside he was warm. Inside his chest, his heart was full of
warmth, pulsing with it, living...
Hakkai could feel it, as he surrounded Sanzo’s heart with
his fist, could feel it pumping warmly, wetly, an utterly futile thing.
He could hear Goku screaming, in his head, and kicked the
dead boy’s form at his feet to make it shut up.
Sanzo’s eyes were boring into him even as he died, full of
accusation, regret - rage. Hakkai had
always been able to read the secrets in those eyes. Annoyed by these thoughts and that dead
violet stare, Hakkai shook him with the hand that wasn’t buried deep in his
chest, and his hanging head flopped backwards, to the side, golden hair finally
hiding those staring, sightless eyes.
What a relief.
Hakkai dropped the body to the ground, where it landed on
top of Goku, a perverse, too-late shield.
Fitting, really.
Especially when one considered how this had happened. Goku had raced forward to protect his
master. Thus Goku had died first. Now, in death, Sanzo could try to protect
Goku from raging, powerful demons driven mad by their pain...
For no - Goku had not died first. Gojyo had done that.
Hakkai turned to look at the body spread-eagled on the
ground behind him. Poor
Gojyo. If Sanzo had bothered
watching out for anyone besides himself and that stupid monkey, Gojyo would
have been protected when they were attacked by some idiot assassins of
Kougaiji’s. Sanzo could have saved Gojyo
with the strength and power of his Sutra.
He could have done something.
But he hadn’t. And
Hakkai had been too busy saving Hakuryu from the bastards who’d been attacking
the defenseless dragon. He’d trusted
Sanzo to watch out for Gojyo. Gojyo, who
was neither demon nor human, who’d spent his whole
life in pain. Gojyo had needed Hakkai.
No, that wasn’t right either. Hakkai needed Gojyo.
It probably hadn’t been Sanzo’s fault Gojyo had died. Nor had it been Goku’s. But Hakkai had killed them, blamed them and killed
them, like he had slaughtered the villagers who sold out his precious Kanan.
He’d killed innocents then, too, and people for whom their
guilt or innocence was not for him to decide.
He’d thought that behind him. And
it probably had been - until he’d
fallen in love again.
Kougaiji and his minions would pay for this, in blood. He would continue this mission west, and at
the end he would massacre everyone trying to revive that dead god. Not for the sake of the world-
But because he wanted revenge.
If not for this journey, Gojyo would have lived. So he would finish this, all of this.
He wondered, briefly, if this was why Sanzo had been forced
to bring them along in the first place.
It didn’t matter, though.
Gojyo was dead. And for that, the
world would be bathed in blood.
Something squelched in his hand, and he looked down,
surprised when he saw Sanzo’s heart being squeezed between his fingers, blood
and tissue coating his hand in crimson.
Crimson, like Gojyo’s hair that he would never touch again, like his
eyes that Hakkai would never see again.
“You’re right, Sanzo,” he whispered to the empty air that
hung heavy with the stench of death.
“Blood isn’t the only thing that’s red.”
He smiled down at the useless, ill-used organ he hadn’t realized
he’d ripped out.
“Love is, too.”
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