Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Saiyuki Reload Gunlock Fan Fiction ❯ From Way Before ❯ Looking for the World ( Chapter 1 )

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FROM WAY BEFORE

 

[adopted from the title from Saiyuki Image Song]

 

 

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Summary: [Sanzo x Goku] [Gojyo x Hakkai] All Genjo Sanzo had to do was bring together the reincarnations of Son Goku, Cho Hakkai and Sha Gojyo in 21st century Tokyo, invoke their powers and get them to destroy Gyumao and his sycophants. Sounds easy, huh? Well, that's what the great Sanzo thought…

 

 

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1. Looking For The World

 

 

[Chapter Title Credit: Gensomaden Saiyuki]

 

 

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“Oh boy, oh boy!”

 

 

The brown-haired youngster whistled in delight as he saw the great feast laid out in front of him.

 

 

“I wonder if there is enough time before school to eat all this food,” he thought as he chomped into the meat buns with hungry greed.

 

 

“Goku!”

 

 

`Shit,' he thought, `Uncle's here already! I've gotta eat faster… faster…”

 

 

He attacked the sausages with wild abandon, almost forgetting to taste the food in his hurry to eat it all up.

 

 

“Goku!”

 

 

`Faster… faster… faster…'

 

 

He suddenly stopped his eating - if swallowing down great chunks of food could be so innocently termed - and looked up. Light… there was a lot of light…

 

 

He looked down momentarily to find that all the food had gone and he was… flying… He looked up again. He could make out hair… shiny, blonde hair… brighter than the sun… framing a face… he knew that face… he knew that guy… he knew… and then it was fading… receding…

 

 

“For fuck's sake, get up!”

 

 

“DON'T GO!!!”

 

 

Son Goku sat up, his sweat-soaked bangs clinging to his temple and forehead. He was breathing hard.

 

 

“I don't know what you're yelling about, you pest. But if you're not up and ready in ten minutes, I'm not taking you to school.”

 

 

“Yes, Hirata-san,” mumbled Goku as he pushed off the blankets and stumbled out of the bed. His cousin watched him darkly for a moment before going out.

 

 

“I'm so damned,” said Goku to himself as he turned on the shower and hastily scrubbed his body. He had bathed last night before going to bed. He had had to… he felt incredibly dirty after he had abused and attacked him.

 

 

He hadn't said a word about it to Hirata-san. He suspected his cousin would blame him for what had happened… You shouldn't have stayed out late… That's what you get for being a bastard and gay and breaking the curfew… Why don't you just die…?

 

 

He winced as the hot water stung his red wounds. He was scared of going to the school-nurse. She'd no doubt ask too many questions… Goku was scared of questions. He didn't know what he would say. He was almost eighteen - he would be going to college next year. How could he admit to anyone that he had been lousy enough to let a drunken classmate, who also happened to be one of the most popular guys of the school, abuse him? Hirata-san would kick him out of his house. Goku had no one left in this world but Hirata-san. He couldn't imagine what he would do if he was left out. He was so scared of being alone… it was his greatest fear. He'd live with the pain if only he was assured that he was living with someone… that he did have a home to go to, no matter how unwelcome he was there.

 

 

His legs were aching terribly and his back was stinging with pain. His fingers hovered over the bruise on his thigh, and then he touched it lightly. He winced. Kami! It hurt so bad…

 

 

“Goku! I am leaving!”

 

 

He heard the front door bang and then all was quiet. Pulling out his towel from the rack, he wound it about his waist. Wincing with each step he took, he went to lock the front door. The last thing he wanted was for that red-head to come in and abuse him in here. He wasn't sure if he knew where he lived, but in case he did, Goku was not about to let him do it again.

 

 

It was a warm summer day. He could hear the wails of the young boy next door. Not soon after, his baby sister started crying, too. The noise of the traffic outside… random yelling he could not discern… rock music from across the street…

 

 

He lay down on the couch, careful to be on his left side for he felt that the wound on his right hip would kill him. He had adopted a similar position when he had gone to bed but ended up on his back, which was now hurting.

 

 

But the dream he had this morning… he was so sure that it wasn't a nightmare like always. He couldn't remember anything except blonde hair… very bright blonde hair… like sun…

 

 

He closed his eyes. He had had such a strange feeling when he had woken up this morning. He wished he could feel it again although he had no idea what it was. Then he tried to recall if Hirata-san had ever mentioned keeping a first-aid box. If only he could stop all the pain…

 

 

“Why did you do this to me?”

 

 

He had idolized him. He was intelligent, handsome and a great basketball player. Goku loved basketball but wasn't very good at it. Hell! He wasn't good at anything. He couldn't recall being best at anything. Hirata-san always called him a `useless pest'. It annoyed Goku… but maybe, he thought now, Hirata-san is right… Maybe I am useless… a pest…

 

 

He had been totally stunned when he had come to ask him for English notes when he had missed the class. Goku had been able to do little but gape at him until he had repeated his question a third time. After that he would give him a smile… a nod… any small recognition if he ever saw him again. Goku believed that he was falling in love. And he had dared to believe that he had felt something similar…

 

 

And then that night.

 

 

He'd been drugged but not drugged enough. He could recall his helplessness and how he couldn't even yell as he had changed his world into a living nightmare… Goku felt an urge to puke every time he thought about it… He'd been scarred for life.

 

 

And then another night.

 

 

And then the last night, again.

 

 

He had stayed as far from him as possible after that first night. But he could not avoid him completely. He had accosted him again - and again.

 

 

He was startled out of his thoughts when the phone rang.

 

 

Who could be calling? All of Hirata-san's friends knew that he would be out at work. Was this call for him? Goku didn't remember giving anyone this number except… shit, what if it was him? What if he was calling from right outside the door? What if… what if it happened all over again?

 

 

He closed his eyes tight shut, trying to ignore the diabolic ringing.

 

 

xxx

 

 

Goku winced as he put on the t-shirt. The wounds on his back stung as the cloth touched them. He took it off and put on his loose pyjamas. Although he looked like a mouse in his large and grey sleeping clothes, the cotton was soft against his skin and didn't constantly remind him of his battered body.

 

 

He switched on the TV and surfed through the channels for a while. However, it wasn't enough to take his mind off… everything. Hirata-san would be very angry when he would come back home in the evening. The only other time when Goku had gotten up late and had missed school was about a year ago. He still cringed when he thought of the yelling he had been subjected to. Hirata-san never hit him. He had never harmed a hair of his head. He had never starved him or treated him shabbily. But his harsh words cut deeper where not even the sharpest blade could reach. He knew that it wasn't like Hirata-san to be kind and caring. The man was born with a raging temper. But would it really hurt him to say one kind word? What Goku won't give to be able to talk to someone… someone who won't blame him for all that had happened… someone who'd give at least one small, kind look if not a warming smile…

 

 

I am going crazy, he thought, switching off the TV and going to the kitchen. I am hungry… yeah, that's what the problem is… Kami! I am so hungry! I missed my breakfast and lunch! I am going to die so soon!

 

 

As he fixed himself a sandwich (he didn't really like simple sandwiches but since he couldn't cook to save his life, he had little option but to put in the leftover fillings between two slices of bread), Goku's mind drifted back to the dream he had had. What was it about, again? Light… light… light… light… so much light that he had been almost blinded by it. And then he had seen someone who was blonde. He didn't know anyone who was blonde. Well, there were the Honda triplets but he felt sure that he hadn't seen any of them. None of them had eyes so purple…

 

 

“Maybe if I go to bed, I will see him again.”

 

 

It had felt so… different when he had seen that dream. It gave him a funny tingly feeling to think about it even now. If he concentrated strongly enough on the blonde's face, he could feel even some of his pain seeping out.

 

 

He quickly finished his sandwich and went to his bed. Sitting down cross-legged, he closed his eyes and tried to recall all that light…

 

 

Harder… harder… he tried to close his eyes harder… yeah, I can see you… he was forgetting the pain… harder…

 

 

A quiet murmur of “Sanzo”, a soft `thump' as the boy's body limply fell back on the bed and then all was as quiet as would have been on a normal day when Hirata-san was finishing up the last of his files in his office and Goku was walking down home from the school, trying to keep to busy roads.

 

 

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The Room No. 31-C of the hostel was currently occupied by only one of its residents of three years. The young man, his hair appearing to be as dark as the new-moon midnight sky in the dim light of the dusk, was Cho Hakkai. He stood near the casement for a few minutes and then sat on the window-sill to pursue the print-outs of the History notes that he had taken out a few minutes ago. There was an indefinable something about him which at once put you at ease even if you saw him in just passing-by. His smiling eyes had made quite an appreciable number of his female peers look twice at him and some had even asked him out. But Hakkai, labelled `monk' by the college's `the cool guy/playboy', Sakamoto Shohei, was only keen on pursuing his studies and had refrained from entering into any sort of relationship with any woman.

 

 

A few minutes passed in pensive stillness - and just when you would have thought that Hakkai had fallen asleep, he glanced at the digital clock on the adjacent wall of the room. It read a neon green 15:44.

 

 

“Late again, Sakamoto-san,” murmured Hakkai as he turned back to his reading.

 

 

Hakkai could never understand whether Shohei actually wanted to graduate from the college or not. Granted that it was the red-head who had come to him to ask for help with his work, but Shohei had been reluctant to do much else. Hakkai had quickly gauged that the problem was not with Shohei's capabilities but with his willingness to commit himself to achieve his goals - or what should be his goals as a college student. He spent a large part of their fortnightly dinners outside trying to convince him to quit his endless chain of cigarettes, drinks and women and be sincere about his studies. Shohei would do nothing more than brush off his words as nagging and then launch into a vivid description of his colourful fortnight. But he never gave up on their private evening together. Hakkai would have said that Shohei considered him as his best friend… almost. Because guys like Shohei didn't have anything to do with guys like Hakkai. They were from completely different worlds. So whatever there was between them… a circumstantial acquaintance… a tentative friendship… it scared Hakkai. He couldn't define his fear, but he knew it was fear, nonetheless.

 

 

At the faint knock on the door of the room, Hakkai smiled slightly. He was here before six then… that was a slight improvement.

 

 

He had stood up to open the door when the lock turned and a tall guy came in - dressed in a… monkey costume?

 

 

“Hey, Hakkai,” said Yoshida Tetsuya as he entered the room, “There's some monk to see you in the visitor's room - the first one.”

 

 

The deepening shadows hid the disappointment on Hakkai's face as he registered that the newcomer was not Shohei but his roommate. However, his announcement surprised him. “A monk?”

 

 

“Yeah, seems like some sort of weirdo to me… I mean the guy is…” Tetsuya frowned, “I am not sure, but I think he has a gun…”

 

 

Hakkai's eyebrows went higher. “A gun? Holy God!”

 

 

“Yeah, well… and he's blonde. If he wasn't a monk, I'd say the guy looked cool. Guess you should go and see what he wants.”

 

 

“Yes. Just tell Sakamoto-san that I've got a visitor when he comes and that I will be back soon.”

 

 

“Of course,” said Tetsuya as he stood in front of the dressing-table.

 

 

Hakkai nodded, put the print-outs on his desk and went out.

 

 

He was back again after three seconds.

 

 

“Tetsuya?”

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

“Ummm… I know it is none of my business but… what's with the… costume?”

 

 

Tetsuya flashed him a cutely roguish smile. “Secret, secret! I've got a date!”

 

 

“Oh… right. Good luck then! I honestly hope all goes well!”

 

 

“Arigatoo gozaimasu!”

 

 

Granted that he was no expert when it came to dating women, but Hakkai had to wonder what sort of woman would be impressed by that horrendously orange monkey costume. Tetsuya's ideas could get weird - Hakkai could only hope that he won't make a fool of himself. He would be twenty-three next month but sometimes one could easily mistake him for an overgrown teenager with a weirdo complex.

 

 

As he went down the stairs, his thoughts reverted to his visitor. A monk - a blonde monk with a gun. At times, even the ever-optimistic and kind Hakkai was bound to wonder whether Tetsuya really smoked weed rather than merely pretending to do so in order to get on his father's nerves.

 

 

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Genjo Sanzo had had quite some odd looks thrown his way in the last ten minutes but he was least bothered about them. He had had people regarding him oddly all his life. At first, it had been the monks and the villagers who had looked upon his blonde hair and amethyst eyes as some sort of sacrilege. If not for his master, he was sure that they would have shorn off his hair and gauged out his eerie eyes with a stick. Even when he became the head monk of the monastery, the strange and almost fearful looks had not subsided. “It is not natural to have such an eye-colour,” a foreigner had said. Sanzo had thought that was a bit rich of him considering the electric blue dye of his hair and the orange contact lenses. What a monstrosity!

 

 

Natural… he had always been naturally… different. Special. That's what his master had called him. Special. You're special, you're very special.

 

 

If only you were alive to see the horrible extent of your prophetic words… special, indeed, tch!

 

 

As he sat smoking in the Visitor's Room, he wondered what it was all worth. He wasn't the most social person known to mankind. How the hell was he supposed to convince these modern machos that they were “good” demons reincarnated and were supposed to vanquish the bad demons? He suppressed his urge to laugh in sarcasm. It sounded pretty cheesy when put that way.

 

 

Special.

 

 

Yeah, right.

 

 

As he lit yet another cigarette, he suddenly heard someone call out his name. Fingers poised to put on his lighter, he turned. An old woman was reading a magazine and a young boy sat at her feet. Besides them, there was no one in the room.

 

 

Frowning, he returned to lighting the cigarette and pocketed the lighter.

 

 

Weird. Sanzo could have sworn that he had heard the voice before… it had sounded distant and yet strangely close. He rubbed his head with his forefinger. The lack of sleep was finally catching on.

 

 

“Hello?”

 

 

Black hair. Green eyes. Irritating smile. Monocle. Cho Hakkai, you haven't changed at all.

 

 

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Shohei opened his eyes.

 

 

“Man, who turned off the lights?” he murmured and then, “Ugh!” as the odour of cheap perfume mixed with the smell he had come to identify as sex.

 

 

“Bloody hell! Did I just die?”

 

 

Stumbling out of the uncomfortable bed, he groped his way to the window. He knew that the window was right across the room. He had even known that there were no lights in this room but had made a random exclamation to find his voice. It wasn't the first time that he had come here. He pulled back the dusty curtains and threw open the window, breathing a sigh of relief as the cool wind rushed in.

 

 

Being completely naked, he briefly considered putting on clothes. But the warm room and sex had made his body sticky with sweat. The window was a small one but the newfound coolness around his torso felt good. It was dark as hell in the room and well, it wasn't as if there was anybody around to look, anyway. Not that they wouldn't like what they saw, he laughed mirthlessly, reaching the table for a cigarette and his lighter.

 

 

He leaned against the lower frame looking down at the people going about their business. People. So many people. Uncaring. Numb. Mindless. Too many people. And not one of them would give a fucking damn to him. What was the use of having so many people in the world if none of them could offer any solace from the pain he felt? Fucking bastards, all of them. He'd damn them all to hell if he could.

 

 

On second thoughts, he'd damn them to heaven. Hell was his permanent residence.

 

 

Now that the horrible smell of the room had been somewhat lessened, he could trace the smell of rain in the wind. Rain. What was it had Hakkai told him about rain once? It was pure… washed away all pain… and some such poetic nonsense. Stupid Hakkai…

 

 

“Stupid me! What time is it?”

 

 

He went back to the table and felt around the top for his watch. As his hand hit against the cold metal of the wristband of the watch, he thought that the woman he had come in here with must not have been a `regular' as she had pretended to be. She'd left before he'd woken up and not even touched his gold watch. In his haste, though, he dropped it and then spent quite a few minutes muttering and cursing on his knees, searching for it. When he finally had it gripped it in his fist and brought it to the window, he let out a string of expletives.

 

 

It was almost thirty minutes past nine o'clock. Shit. Why had he to come to this goddamn place today afternoon of all times? Oh yeah, he had seen his beloved stepbrother. And he had to get all the rage and pain out of his system before he killed somebody. No wonder the woman had run off soon after the sex. He might have been a tad rougher with her than usual. Why was his life so fucking messed up?

 

 

And this was the fourth time in a row that he had gotten way too late for his study appointment with Hakkai. Every morning he woke up swearing to himself that he would make it to Hakkai's room on time. And every day he made a rot out of things. At this rate, he would lose Hakkai… there was only so much callousness the poor guy could take from him.

 

 

Suddenly, he felt all his strength leave him.

 

 

Hakkai… leave me?

 

 

No. No. No way!!!

 

 

He'd beg him not to. His charms were too good to resist, ne? Tomorrow was their evening out. He won't call him a nag. He won't call him a stuck-up sucker. Hell, he'd even take him to the theatre like he'd always known Hakkai had wanted to but had ignored it purely because he hated the place. Oh Kami… what am I thinking?

 

 

Shohei sank down to the floor, his head in his hands, as the realization hit him hard… I'll do anything for you, Hakkai… Fuck you, arsehole! When did you do this to me?

 

 

xxx

 

 

It took Goku full fifteen minutes to realize that he wasn't asleep but simply lay in the dark.

 

 

How long did I sleep?

 

 

As he got out of the bed and turned on the lights, his body again became aware of the torture it had gone through. Why were things so tough? Why couldn't his life have been normal like everybody else's?

 

 

Hirata-san didn't seem to be here yet. Then it mustn't be too late - at least not six o'clock. Maybe he could catch some part of that game show still. And then he would clean up the kitchen or something. Maybe Hirata-san won't yell at him too much then.

 

 

But when he turned on the TV, he was absolutely certain that it was way past six o'clock. He had thought that it had been too dark when he had woken up. There was no clock in the house. Only Hirata-san had an ancient-looking watch which was the only source of knowing the time. News channels… didn't they usually have a little clock thingy going on in a corner?

 

 

Seven fucking fifteen.

 

 

Maybe Hirata-san had come home and then gone out again. But Hirata-san never went out on weekdays. It was rare for him to take an evening off and that, too, was only possible on Sundays. He tried to think of some reason which could have kept his cousin back at his office. He's like a clock himself, I can't think of why he'd be late.

 

 

Oh well, something must've come up. Or he finally got a girl to go out with him or something.

 

 

Goku wasn't very convinced by his lame reasoning. However, he went to the kitchen and started working. Hirata-san had to come home some time.

 

 

*

 

 

It was only when it was nine-thirty that Goku began panicking. Hirata-san would have called home if he was to be late, won't he? It was the proper thing to do - at least that was what he had been told. Hirata-san usually did what he told others to do. He wasn't a hypocrite. Well, sometimes it was different, but well… it was just only a few times.

 

 

Goku sighed and sat down on the couch.

 

 

Nothing has happened to him… there will be a perfectly normal explanation when he comes home. Not that he would tell it to me, but it will be normal… After all, it is Hirata-san… nothing bad happens to men like that… He is way too normal for bad things to happen to him… Way too normal…

 

 

Please come home… I won't be a pest… I will try not to be useless… I will wake up early…

 

 

Just don't leave me…

 

 

Please don't leave me…

 

 

I can't live alone… I am scared of being alone. I'll die if I am alone. Please, please, please, please, please come home…

 

 

xxx

 

 

I am not scared. I am not scared. I am so not scared…

 

 

Repeating the mantra in his mind, Goku walked down to the next block where Lee-san lived. The Chinese innkeeper was one of Hirata-san's good friends. Goku knew that he was not supposed to interact with Hirata-san's friends but this was an emergency. If Hirata-san had had an accident or someone had kidnapped him (which was very improbable but Goku was so worked up that he was ready to believe anything) then he would have to go to some of Hirata-san's friends.

 

 

The only problem was that he lived next door to Lee-san.

 

 

Hirata-san. I am doing this for Hirata-san. I am not scared.

 

 

He had come out in his old pyjamas which caused some people to look at him either with pity or ridicule. But Goku didn't care. He was damned if he was wearing something less loose. His body was still aching to the point of death. But losing Hirata-san would be worse than death.

 

 

It was the Friday night and the inn seemed far fuller than usual. He could easily evade him if he was here. Yeah, Goku didn't look it - what with being shorter, thinner and more youngish-looking than his peers - but he was pretty fast and lithe. If not drugged or held back by men with twice his strength, then he could be pretty fast. It was a pity that he had been paralyzed by fear last night or maybe he would have not been…

 

 

“Can I help you, young man?”

 

 

The young woman smiled kindly.

 

 

“I was searching for Lee-san…”

 

 

“Oh, he's upstairs - first floor - right from there.”

 

 

Thanking the woman, he made his way towards the staircase. It wasn't an easy job. He kept bumping into people and one time when his hip hit against a table, it was through sheer strength of will that he kept himself from yelling out. Finally, he got to the relatively abandoned staircase and made his way up as fast as he could.

 

 

Which was a mistake to say the least. He collided with someone who was rushing down equally blindly and lost his balance.

 

 

I am dead, was his last thought as he slipped and fell down the staircase. For one moment, his whole body was throbbing alive with pain and then he blacked out.

 

 

xxx

 

 

Shohei, frozen with horror, watched the boy tumble down the staircase.

 

 

The people were unaware of the incident. Someone stepped on the boy's outstretched hand. Shohei snapped out of his guilty fear and ran down. He picked up the boy before the ruthless crowd - albeit unintentionally so but Shohei wasn't disposed to be generous towards them at the moment - stampeded him to death.

 

 

Picking him up in his arms, he went outside through the backdoor.

 

 

He lay down the boy on a bench just to the left of the door. A mangy puppy looked at him ruefully as he kicked him off the bench.

 

 

“Don't die, brat!”

 

 

He felt the boy's wrist. Okay, so the boy was alive. He easily lifted his torso to feel his head. No bumps. No blood. The boy must be pretty thick-skinned. It was only when he stood back to let the light from streetlamp fall on the boy that Shohei noticed that blood was trickling down his left temple. Shohei felt his pockets. Empty. So the little bitch hadn't been so innocent after all. His watch sure was lucky. Taking off his bandana, he tied it around the boy's head.

 

 

He could drop him off at the hospital. But the only hospital that he could think of as being `close' to this place was the infirmary of his hostel. He had never before noticed how remote a place this was in modern Tokyo. Blast! He didn't have even a Yen - how the hell was he to get back to the hostel? He checked the time. It would be ten soon. He could hitchhike - but how was he to explain the unconscious boy? Moreover, in his leather pants and sleeveless fish-net shirt he looked like a man-slut. His red hair stood out too much. It wasn't normal for men to have long, red hair and dress up in clothes which embellished their endowments rather well.

 

 

And the boy. How was he going to explain the presence of this damned boy in pyjamas? Why the hell was the boy in his pyjamas, anyway? Even if he did get to the hostel, it was going to be a tough job moving about in these clothes. When he had left, he had been wearing a long black overcoat but that seemed to be missing as well. There had, of course, been rumours that he was gay. Now he'd be labelled a paedophile. Oh joy! Wasn't that exactly what he needed, right now!

 

 

The boy was showing no signs of any movement. If he had not knelt and put his head to the boy's chest, he wouldn't have known that he was breathing. He made a rather pathetic picture, lying there in oversized clothes. Shohei really pitied him. If his childhood was being anywhere as rotten as his had been then he wasn't going to leave him out here all alone tonight. He wasn't going to be the brother that stupid Akira had been to him. Brother!?!? He was shocked to realize that an inexplicable something about the boy reached out to him.

 

 

“Get up, you little idiot! Go home so that I can go back to mine! I know you aren't hurt that bad!”

 

 

Letting out a long sigh, he sat down on one side of the bench with the boy's feet in his lap. The poor thing didn't need to wake up to his crotch - the pants weren't just low-riding, they were tight, too. One of the waitresses came out but hardly spared him a glance. Once a while, someone would pass them but would be too wrapped up in their own business to notice the strange pair on the bench. Maybe it was for good that people were all too selfish to care about a person they passed. Oh well! The day had been totally crappy. Why shouldn't the night be so, too?

 

 

And leaning his head on his hands, folded behind on the top of the bench-back, Shohei closed his eyes.

 

 

Never thought you'd experience sleeping with someone so literally, did you, old boy? Just don't die in your sleep, you midget. I ask for only one thing, Kami… don't let the boy die… see, dude, after all things today, I am being so unselfish… Don't let him die…

 

 

xxx