“What
are you thinking of right now?”
A
glide of nails along the sensitive vein on his neck, an almost ticklish
sensation that sent a chill up his spine. Sanzo turned his head sideways, as
far as he could get from the maliciously amused voice whispering in his ear.
He
pushed away regrets as he sought to sink down again into the still pool in his
mind. The caress turned into a sharp stab of pain and he bit back a scream. It
distracted him, forced him to stop, unable to fully detach himself.
“You’re
not paying attention to me. I don’t like that.”
“Go
to hell.” He hissed through gritted teeth. He fought again to reach the trance
state, desperately hoping that the pain would have less hold on him there.
A
soft laugh. “You first.”
It
was hard to concentrate, so hard. He was barely able to maintain a small level
of detachment. The long fingers wandered down his body, untying knots and
spreading open loose robe.
One
long, razor-tipped nail hooked into the top of his body suit and pulled down
slowly, the soft ripping sound of fabric preternaturally loud in his ears. He
could feel the hard tip of the nail slicing open a thin layer of skin, a line
of liquid warmth mapped down all the way to his navel. Goosebumps broke on
sweat-dampened skin as the cloth was peeled away and the night air hit his
overheated body. The palm flattened against his lower stomach, just above his
groin. The physical warmth felt at odds with the icy chill of fear the action
generated. The talons slowly curved inward, digging into soft flesh.
His
concentration wavered.
The
youkai looked down thoughtfully at the thin rivulets of blood running down
Sanzo’s sides.
“…maybe
later.” He smiled at Sanzo. “You humans die so quickly when gutted.” The
fingers suddenly raked close, the razor-sharp edges carving into his flesh so smoothly and so quickly
his body took a moment to recognize the damage. The white-hot pain hit a full
two seconds later and a bitten off cry escaped Sanzo’s lips as he curled in
instinctively. His limbs pulled against the taut restraints, more raw pain
shooting up strained hands and thighs.
“Go
on, scream.” The taunt was almost affectionate. “You will anyway, sooner or
later. They all did.”
Perversely,
he held the pain in. He felt the dull, aching strain in his jaws, but it was
nothing compared to the fiery open wounds on his stomach.
He
saw the youkai licking away one bloody finger and felt nausea climbing up. The
youkai smiled, enjoying the revulsion and laid the same finger on Sanzo’s
cheek. He could not stop himself from flinching away. The youkai considered him
like one would a butterfly specimen nailed on the board. He frowned.
“Rather
awkward position this is. Let’s see…”
He
looked up and his eyes went distant. There was a dry, rasping sound and Sanzo
felt the limbs holding him down gave way a bit. That was all he needed. He
waited until the youkai put his hand underneath one shoulder, obviously
intending to lift him up. That was when he lunged up intending to butt the
youkai in the head, at the same kicking a knee up for the stomach.
He
missed the head-butt, seeing the grinning mouth passed as the youkai turned,
felt the knee hit air. Then his vision was blocked by a descending palm and the
next thing he knew the back of his head hit the unyielding ground hard enough
to rattle all his teeth.
The
voice came as if from a long tunnel. “I believe I’m insulted. Do you actually
think I would fall for a similar ruse twice?”
Sanzo
felt his body lifted up, tried to struggle but his muscles seemed to have
turned to water and nothing worked properly. He felt the youkai moving his
limbs, pulling his arms to stretch back behind him. He managed to get his eyes
open and saw the youkai lean back with a satisfied smile. He was now kneeling
on the ground, sharp pebbles digging into his knees, arms held behind his back.
The limbs held his upper body erect and his lower legs flat to the ground.
“Perfect.”
Sanzo
felt himself being embraced, soft lips nuzzling him on his throat.
“Don’t
faint on me now, little monk. We’re just starting.”
Warm
hand caressed him from the shoulders, all the way down to the wrist stretched
behind him. Fingers closed on his right wrist, then with a savage twist, broke
the fragile bones.
His
body convulsed with the pain. He felt the youkai pressed cheek to cheek against
him, hugging him close like a lover, but he could not find the strength to even
move his head away.
The
hand moved back up the length of his arm to stop at the joints where his right
arm met his shoulder. The face pulled back to watch him, hunger in the green
slitted eyes. He felt the fingers probe the joint, knew what he meant to do.
“An
arm for an arm, boy.”
A
plea almost escaped him, but sheer pride made him choke it down. He would die
before he beg.
When
the youkai dislocated his shoulder, the world was awashed with pain that
drowned out everything else.
There
was a panting moan from somewhere far away. He did not recognize it as his, the
voice had sounded so weak and helpless. Pathetic.
“…quisite”
The
whisper again, in his ear. “You scream so beautifully, little monk.”
He
had not screamed. Had he?
“I
have tried many things, little monk. Experimented on the other humans, to see
how much would be too much, too fast, and how much would allow me to prolong
this. Did you know a man could linger for an amazingly long time, even with
half his bones crushed? As long as you are careful not to nick a main artery or
vein, we can do this for hours.”
Panic
was trying to rouse his body, but his thoughts felt sluggish. There was
something he needed to do, but it kept on escaping him. Something to stop the
pain, something to…
“I
wonder how could I make you scream louder.”
The
fingers cupped his face, caressing it gently. When one finger pressed against a
closed lid, Sanzo instinctively turned his face away.
“Ah.”
The
chuckle that followed woke him up somewhat. A cold finger of dread made him
open his eyes. The youkai was smiling.
“You
have beautiful eyes, little monk.”
His
breath hitched in his throat and panic welled up full force, clearing the
cobwebs in his mind. No. No.
“I
told myself I would keep a souvenir from our little encounter. I was thinking
of your head, but it is such a cumbersome thing to carry everywhere. An eye,
though… it would do just as well.”
He
hated the sound that he made when the finger touched the eyelid of his right
eye, pulling it back to expose the eyeball. The youkai was watching him avidly,
seeming to feed from his panic and fear. The tip of the claw pressed against
the corner of his eye, starting to dig in. Blood welled up, stinging and
staining his vision red, and in that moment of horror Sanzo knew absolute
despair.
An enraged shriek rang through the clearing and his
body was rocked with impact – the weight on top of his suddenly disappeared as
his numbed mind belatedly registered confused cacophony of howls and pained
yowls.
He
half-raised his head and blinked back blood, barely seeing through red-washed
vision. Caught peripheral snatches of two figures locked in a tumbling brawl, a
glimpse of crimson-tinted brown hair, a snatch of furred vest, a flash of feral
golden eyes.
He
had not thought his heart could sink any lower than it already did. He was
wrong.
As if to accentuate his point, a small body went
hurtling across the space to crash somewhere out of his vision, ending with
loud, multiple cracks of broken branches and a pained cry.
From somewhere inside him he dragged up the strength
to scream at his enemy, “You leave him alone! It’s me that you want.”
The youkai strode past him and almost casually
back-handed him across the mouth. Blood filled his mouth and Sanzo closed his
eyes, fighting against unconsciousness.
Stupid,
stupid, thrice-damned moron!! I’ve thrown you away, why’d you have to come
back?
He lifted blurred eyes, but the youkai had gone behind
him, out of his sight.
Calm down. Calm down.
It took all his self-control and training to heed that
voice of reason. He could not help anyone, not like this. Worse, he was a
liability, a burden.
His breath burned painfully in his chest. He had sworn
four years ago that he would be strong, that he would never be a liability
again, never be caught helpless, never had to watch…
His breathing steadied as the familiar resolution set
in. Now was different. He had to believe that. He had had four years to make
that difference. Now was the time to prove it.
There was only one chance for both of them.
Sanzo closed his eyes and plunged deep into his mind,
deafening himself to the sounds of the fight, indications of a losing fight. If
the sounds stopped before he resurfaced, at least he would not have to see the
evidence of another of his failure. Weak coward that he was, death was
preferable to facing another person’s death on his behalf.
He sank deep like a stone, falling for the still
mirror of ebony, reaching down, down…
…and emerged into the light.
***
People who recite this mantra, will attain the wisdom the Buddhas.
Koryuu
turned his head aside, the crisp smell of late autumn wind filling his nose,
the soft paper-rustle of dry leaves all the sound in the world.
His
master sat on the simple prayer pad on the wooden floor. The wall panels were
open behind him, the pale moonlight falling on the leaves of the sheltering
maple tree outside, bringing out the dark red highlights and framing Koumyo
Sanzo in an almost unbearably vivid, fiery crown of leaves.
What mantra is that, Master?
His Master
smiled, a secretive, almost playful edge it. As if he was laughing at a joke
that no one else knew.
The one that
I will teach you tonight.
There was a sutra open between them, an old silk scroll with older
words written on them.
Koryuu shrugged. I don’t need to know any mantra.
Oh, but one day you will need
to. This mantra turns the sufferings into the Bodhi mind.
Koryuu frowned at his Master. I’d rather not suffer at all, if you
don’t mind me saying so. I don’t think I really take to this whole
suffering-is-enlightening thing.
His Master laughed silently. Oh, that sounds very much like
something you will say, Koryuu.
But Koryuu, suffering is inevitable. And sometimes, the truth
behind the teachings are so profound that a man can only see it when he is
driven to his limits, or when he is close to leaving this mortal coil.
Are you saying that the closer to being dead you are, the easier
it will be for you to understand it? Koryuu asked incredulously. That’s
horrible.
His Master smiled.
Sometimes, that’s the way it is. You will understand, Koryuu.
When it is time for me to go, this will be the mantra that will
pass my lips. And I shall pass it to you. I trust you will make good use for
it.
Koryuu felt a sudden sting in his eyes, an unpleasant premonition
clutching his chest so it hurt to breathe. Why had the Master looked sad?
Master, he said. I don’t really want to know. His voice seemed
overlaid with a deeper voice, an older voice full of pain.
But his Master had pressed his palms together in front of him.
Listen well, Koryuu, he said, and recite it with me.
Namah
Ratnatrayaya
Namo
Aryavalokitesvaraya Bodhisattvaya
Koryuu
reluctantly assumed the pose, feeling the weight of inevitability pressing down
on him.
Mahasattvaya
Mahakarunikaya Tadyatha
The
wind had died down outside. He had closed his eyes, but somehow he could still
see the silvery moonlight, the vivid crimson of the leaves.
Om
tso- jie- ra- fa di- Chintamani
The
room was dissolving around them, the edges of reality running together to fade
away into the dark. But there was nothing to be afraid of in this dark. This
silent depth that welcomed and embraced. The cadence of the mantra flowed
around him, inside him, tugging forth something from deep in his soul. The
rhythm of the words picked up.
mo-ho
bo-den mi. ru-ru-ru-ru. di- se tsa
re-
ra- a-jie ri. sa-ya HONG!
The
mantra was building to a climax. It had taken a life of its own and he was
merely the vessel that resonated for it. He opened his eyes, and it was tears
that fell down his eyes as he watched his Master’s peaceful face. He knew now
what the end of the mantra would bring. He watched with young/old eyes as the
ancient words of power continued to resound around them.
Om
Padma Chintamani rera Hong!
His
Master’s eyes opened as they approached the last line. He was smiling, but it
was tinted with sadness. His mouth moved, but he could not hear what was being
said. The tears fell harder. And then, it was too late.
Om-
ba-la-to-bo dan-mi HONG!
***
The intruder was an unpleasant complication.
He had been so immersed on the young monk’s agony and
the slowly mounting terror that he had not even sense the other approaching
until it had bowled full-tilt into him. Unforgivable carelessness. His
snarl was more for his own stupidity than any real feel of threat from the
intruder.
The
other was half his size and young. Nowhere near a match to him. But the cub was
doggedly tenacious, bounding back into the fight again and again, until he had
smacked it so hard it had flown across the clearing to crash against the mature
pines on the forest edge. That had cut an entirely satisfactory swath of
destruction and left the cub sprawled on the ground.
His
triumphant smile died down when the little body struggled up again, grubby
fingers scrabbling to find purchase on the ground.
There
were tears brimming on the large, golden eyes. Not tears of pain, he realized.
Frustration, impotent anger, and desperation so thick he could almost taste it.
For
some reason, the cub was trying to protect his human captive, to the extent
that he would be willing to pay with his own life. It made him curious enough
to ask.
“Why?”
His
answer was an inarticulate snarl as the cub lunged for him gracelessly. He
stepped aside easily and, instead of back-handing him as he originally
intended, snagged the slender neck and pulled it against him.
“Why?”
He asked again.
The
cub kicked against him but was in bad position to put any strength into it. He
secured his grip and slammed the cub into the solid oak trunk. The golden eyes
glazed, and he took the opportunity to look back at his other captive. The
human was slumped against his restraints, motionless. The alpha male was keeping
a good eye, as well as several limbs, on him. He had time.
“Let’s
see,” he cocked his head at the cub, who had more or less recovered from having
his head smashed against the trunk. Good recuperative ability, he probably
needed to watch out for that. “Either you don’t know how to speak, or that
tongue of yours is nothing more than a useless piece of meat. If it’s the
latter, I’ll just do you a favor and remove it from of your mouth. Clean out
the trash, so to speak.”
A
sobbed breath. “… won’t… let you…”
“What
was that, cub?”
“…won’t
let you hurt him… kill…. Never!!”
“Why?
What is he to you?”
The
cub’s fierce countenance faded, replaced halfway with confusion. Then it
growled at him and fought twice as hard to escape the restraint on his neck. The
dirty fingers pulled and scratched at his upper arm, and there were just enough
baby claws in them for it to hurt.
With
an oath, he lunged and kneed the boy in the stomach hard, doubling the small
body in two with the force of it. The golden eyes widened, pupils constricting
into pin-points, then the small body went limp in his hand. He looked down at
his captive disgustedly. There was no challenge in this. The body was thrown
aside carelessly and he strolled back to the monk.
He
knelt down in front of the young man and grabbed a handful of silky blond hair,
using it to pull the limp head up. He blinked in surprise. The face was slack,
the pupils of those lovely violet eyes expanded so wide they almost swallowed
the irises. There were no comprehension in those eyes, which was somewhat
expected, but the tears that silently glided down tracks etched into those
blood-encrusted cheeks were a definite surprise.
“My,
my, I’m shocked at you, little monk,” he murmured. “I never figure you for the
type to cry so easily. Does it really hurt all that much? Or is it the fear
that made you weep?”
No
response. Not even a flicker in those violet orbs. That indifference stoked the
familiar fire of sullen resentment in his belly. He would not be ignored. Never
again. He had shown those dim-witted sheep the price of thumbing their nose at
him, for ignoring him like a cur in the street. He would not tolerate it from
one that was his prey, his victim.
“Time
to wake up, sleeping beauty,” he hissed maliciously, sliding his palm down the
monk’s smooth back, all the way to the curve of his waist. Then his fingers
curved in and he viciously dug his nails, carving a deep furrow up the back.
Laughter started to bubble up in anticipation of the scream, but it died
stillborn as nothing happened. The monk’s face remained blank, impassive, the
body under his hand as limp and lifeless as a puppet.
The
alpha male gave a confused whuff, understanding in some level that something
was wrong, but unable to grasp what had changed.
“What
kind of trick this is, monk?” He hissed, feeling the fury boiling past his
careful controls. He did not understand how the monk could remain impassive in
the face of such pain, and the small kernel of uncertainty made him mad. “Do
you think you could escape me using some sort of meditation technique?”
He
tore his hand loose from the ripped back and clutched the monk’s face with a
bloody hand. The thick coppery smell of it filled his nostrils, tickling
against his palate. Still there was no reaction.
“Remember
the eye, monk?” He grated, the fury making its way into his voice. “I was
interrupted just now, but now that I’ve taken care of the distraction it’s time
to go back for the main course. How about it, monk? If you beg nicely, I might
consider sparing your eyes. From the others, I had the impression that losing
an eye hurt like nothing else does.”
Nothing.
With
a snarl, he set his claws just below the brow bone, fully intending to claw the
eyeball out.
Something
raised the hair on the back of his neck, an unpleasant prickle of energy that
made him turn his head.
The
cub was standing again. The head hung low as it stood half-bent, a thin trickle
of blood running down its narrow chin. The incredulity he felt was fast overtaken
by murderous irritation. He had no more appetite for this game. All he wanted
was to be left alone so he could claw open the monk’s defense piece by piece,
to reach his consciousness wherever it was he had hidden it inside his psyche.
He
let the monk go with a growl and stalked over to the small youkai. He was going
to rip it apart, limb-to-limb, and scatter the innards all over the clearing.
Let the monk see then when he woke up, what had become of his defender.
He
was within touching distance, just starting to reach for the still body, when
the cub suddenly disappeared from his sight. There was a split-second of
open-mouthed disbelief, then what felt like a steel hammer wielded by a giant
punched into his stomach. His mouth opened in a breathless scream as he felt
the blow straight up to his spine and his guts felt as if they would be forced
out through his back. He barely felt his knees hitting the ground, his eyes
rising in some instinctive reaction, just in time to see a blur of fist that punched
him in the side of the face.
He
landed on the ground barely conscious, the stench of his own blood filling his
mouth. Survival instincts were screaming for him to roll away, avoid the next
coming blow, but for the moment his body was stunned into immobility. There was
a sudden snarl of rage, a sharp scuffling sound. It gave him enough time for
his healing ability to kick in, and he blinked open slowly focusing eyes.
The
alpha male had flung two tentacle limbs to snag the cub’s ankle. The cub was
down on the ground, awkwardly turned around as he tried to reach the limbs
holding him in place. The limbs kept twisting on the ground like a restless
snake, tumbling him on the ground and escaping his grasp. The cub’s head rose
suddenly, and he was transfixed by the burning, molten gold in those eyes. They
glowed with a light of their own, like miniature suns. And there was something
that defied perception in their depth, a half open door to something so deep
and endless it defied his understanding.
The
cub – no, the bakemono – snarled again in anger and finally found a grip
on the limbs. The narrow shoulders heaved once, and the alpha male’s scream
jarred his ears as the limbs were ripped apart.
That
shook him awake. He understood the situation enough to know that the only
chance he had to take down this thing was while the alpha male was still
there to distract it. Alone, his chance lessened considerably.
Anger
burned away the hesitation in him and he lunged for the cub, managed to tackle
him before it could completely tear itself away from the entwining limbs. Once
he had it straddled on the ground, he pummeled it with punches, putting all his
weight and upper body strength into it. There was no grace in it, just brute force
trying to batter the life out of the enemy. The cub managed to get his arms up,
but most of the blows got through. The golden eyes were narrowed to slits as
blow after blow rained down, and more blood was coughed out of the small mouth.
He
was just readying himself for the final blow when the cub’s eyes snapped open
again, the golden irises growing impossibly wide as their pupils constricted
into narrow slits. He felt the power building then, under him, like riding on
the edge of a lightning strike. He reared back, suddenly afraid, and that
was when he felt the other storm building all around him, filling the clearing,
heard the frantic yelps from the alpha male.
Too
late, he snapped his head back to the young monk. Only to see awareness poured
back into those empty violet eyes, and all the power crackling with him at the
center. The stole around his shoulders began to glow a blinding white, the
spidery scrawl on them turning incandescent and starting to writhe like a
living thing.
He
shouted an order at the alpha male, frantically throwing himself at the monk.
The
storm broke.
***
For
a long while afterwards, there was only silence in the clearing, and a peculiar
ozone- tinged smell of scorched flesh. There was not even enough left to make a
pile of ash. The Maten Kyomon, when utilized properly, left barely
anything to mark the passing of those it had judged.
Sanzo lay face up on the hard ground, staring at
the night sky. Dear gods, he hurt all over. There were new wounds that he did
not recall receiving. He was sticky all over with his own sweat and blood, and
his body had flatly refused to listen to his brain’s directions to move. Not
that his mind was in any better state. A deep, exhausted lassitude had fallen
over his thoughts, born from over-exertion of the mental and spiritual kind.
Using the Maten Kyomon had always left him feeling drained, but never to
this extent. Maybe the physical and emotional stress had aggravated the effect.
There
was something different in the summoning of the power this time, but the
dream-like memories had already started to escape him. He was not sure that he
was sorry about it – there was a deep feeling of pain and loss entwined with
those memories. But there was also a feeling of peace, a beloved memory, and a
nagging disquiet that he was missing something important. But the disquiet
faded away like a caress in a dream, and he was back on the ground, alone.
There
was nothing he wanted more than to close his eyes and sleep. But it he did
that, the next time he woke up may be in the after life. He may be hurting, but
he was not ready to take that step yet. It would have smacked of surrender.
Besides,
there was an unfinished business he had to take care of first.
He
worked some moisture in his mouth and tried to speak. Coughed twice before he
could push something resembling words out of his throat.
“Oy,
saru. Still alive?”
A
long silence stretched and he was just starting to worry when a rather dazed
voice answered.
“Um.”
A
tension he had not even known let go in his chest, and suddenly breathing did
not seem to hurt quite as much.
“Baka.”
An
affronted silence. Then – “Am not.”
Despite
himself, he felt his mouth stretch into a grin. It felt good, even though it
hurt his face. Gods, he did not know a smile needed so many muscles.
“Can’t
you even fight properly, baka? Why’d I always have to pull your tail out
of the fire?”
He
heard some scraping sounds, then a defeated thud on the ground.
“Not
me fault!”
Somehow,
he did not need to see the boy’s face to know what he would look like. The
voice managed to convey injured dignity perfectly well.
“Yeah,
yeah.”
Silence
again as he rested. Even those few words had exhausted him. How was he supposed
to trek back to the village?
“Saru.”
A
mumbled reply came somewhere from the boy’s direction.
“You
sleeping?”
“…
am not.”
“Why’d
you come back?”
Silence.
“I
told you I’d shoot you next time I see you.”
Silence
again, stretching longer. Then torturous scuffing sounds, scrabbling in the
ground and a faint bitten-off yelps now and then. He heard the heavy, unsteady
footsteps long before the boy’s dirty and bloodied face came into his line of
sight.
He
looked terrible, one eye and one side of the face beginning to swell with what
promised to be spectacular bruises, a split lip, and blood still trickling down
the side of his mouth. Sanzo remembered the harsh beatings he had overheard
before he sank down past his consciousness. Internal injuries, most likely.
Hopefully that appetite of his also meant he had a strong recuperative power.
The
face peered down at him, then turned away as the boy half-sat, half-fell on the
ground beside his head.
He
could not see him from where he lay staring straight up. He could move his head
that fraction to the side, but at the moment he did not feel any need to.
The
boy was silent for a long time, and Sanzo just lay there, feeling a lazy stupor
beginning to overtake him. The pain was a distant thing now, and the cold wind
had even stopped bothering him. Sanzo had enough presence of mind left to know
that he was in trouble, but getting up seemed to be too much effort right now.
Small,
feverish-hot hands took his left palm, sandwiching it between their warmth.
The
hands were shaking, and not from the cold.
“I…
went away… like you said…”
“Tried.
Cross the river. Far away.”
“Keep
coming back. Go away. Come back. Go away. Come back again.”
There
was a tremor in the voice.
“Tired
of going away.”
“You
said you don’t want a pet…”
That
was not exactly what he had said, but the gist was correct.
“I’m
not a pet.”
The
voice was fierce.
Showing some backbone, aren’t you, saru.
“That’s
right,” he heard himself saying. “You’re not a pet. You’re not an animal.
That’s why you have to choose your own path. You can’t just keep on following
me.”
You would just be in
another prison then.
A
pause. “You… tell me to go where I want to.”
“Aa.”
“Choose
where I want to.”
Sanzo
stared at the blurring night sky above. His own younger self, kneeling in front
of all the monks in the temple – I will go down the mountain and find the
one who killed my master. I will take back what is mine, the Seiten Kyomon.
“…yes.”
“Then…”
Hesitation, then resolve. “…then I choose to go with you.”
Sanzo
slowly shifted his head aside to stare at the boy. He sat there in his torn
clothes, teeth gnawing his lips in an unconscious nervous gesture. But he met
his gaze without flinching and the eyes were unshadowed with doubts.
Still,
when the silence stretched, the resolve bled away to reveal painful
uncertainties. His voice was small when he asked, “Can I?”
He
could almost hear the sound of his Master laughing. You did tell him to
choose, Koryuu. Will you take that away from him? A smile almost twigged
his mouth. Sneaky old man, he scolded his memory and was rewarded with a
smile from a ghost. Could you tell him why you would refuse him?
It would not work, he argued. It should not. Sanzo
was pretty sure that if his head were working properly at the moment, he would
have found a hundred perfectly reasonable, perfectly valid reasons why it was
so. As it was…
“…
for now.”
The
head that had started to droop snapped up so fast it should have given him a
backlash. Wide golden eyes stared at him in disbelief.
“Eh?”
Sanzo
grunted. “Problems with your ears? I said, for now. Just until you figure out
what to do with yourself, or until I got tired of you. Just remember, I’m not
your keeper, and if you got too annoying, I have my choice to kick you
ass back where you come from. Got that?”
The
smile that bloomed across the boy’s entire face could have rivaled the sun for
its warmth. “Got it, Sanzo.”
“Good,”
he said sleepily, glad that it was all resolved, because he could not have kept
his eyes open for another second. Just a few minutes, that was all, he promised
himself. After that, then he would drag himself up and start for the village.
He
was vaguely aware of the boy’s voice calling his name with a trace of alarm,
but it was too muted to be of any distraction. Oh, yes. They still have not
found out what the saru’s name was. That was something else to think
about. But that was for later.
For
now, he would rest.
***
Notes:
Er…
epilogue coming soon. I think ^^;;