Shadow Over the Sun
folder
Gensomaden Saiyuki › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,693
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Gensomaden Saiyuki › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,693
Reviews:
14
Recommended:
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.
Shadow Over the Sun
Shadow Over the Sun
Prologue: Gone
Summary: One loss is followed by another. But is it truly lost? Fate has a strange way of working things out and the end sometimes is only a beginning.
A/n: This is the product of my sick twisted mind when given the question: What would happen if the Sanzo-ikko lost the final battle against Goumao? I apologise for this. It contains something I swore I would never do: Character Death. But notice, this is only the prologue, hint, hint. Read the warnings, please. Oh, and please review. Should I continue this? I probably will anyway but it never hurts to ask!
Warnings:
Dark themes: Implied rape and torture. Violence and gore.
Yoai/Shounen-ai: i.e Guy on guy sex and/or affection
Character Death
Pairings: Implied Hakkai/Sanzo, implied others/Sanzo, Tenpou/Konzen, implied one sided Kougaiji/Sanzo
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me besides this plot. The characters represented here belong soley to Kazuya Minekura
---------------------------
He’d always thought people went into shock or lost consciousness long before they died. But he remained keenly aware of himself. All he knew was pain. He wondered if it was possible to die of pain alone because there were far too many wounds on his body for him to locate a fatal one. Maybe this was his punishment. To remain conscious and aware right up until the moment his heart stopped beating.
Sanzo knew he was dying. The thought scared him a lot more than he expected. It was morbidly humorous that he was afraid of dying now when only hours before he’d been silently begging for death.
Never aloud, though. No, he’d managed to maintain his pride. No matter how many times they’d hurt him, tied him down with ropes so tight that it pulled layers of skin from his wrists, forced his legs apart and violated him so many times he’d lost count, and tore screams of agony from his throat, he would not beg them for death. Sanzo never begged for anything.
Death didn’t terrify him nearly as much as the absolute silence in his mind. Gone was the hopeful, playful little voice that represented everything Goku. Gone was the nagging little whisper and its absence was so profound it was horrifying.
For the first time, Sanzo felt himself searching for it. Goku had said once he could hear Sanzo calling him, so why couldn’t he hear it now? The answer came to him with the force of a shotgun blast but he refused to accept it. He grasped for the faintest glimmer of the thread that tied Goku to him and it was silent, dark, dead.
Sanzo’s last shred of hope shattered under the crushing weight of Goku’s death. He felt cold, so goddamn cold, but his broken body couldn’t even tremble anymore.
If he had strength left, he would cover himself. But through the haze of blood-loss and agony, he couldn’t force his shredded limbs to obey him. So he laid there, exposed, open, violated, praying for the oblivion of shock or unconsciousness and, a little less fervently, for death.
He didn’t have to turn his head to know he wasn’t alone in the room. From the way he was tilted he could clearly see Hakkai and Gojyo. And he knew, just knew that Gojyo was dead. The blackening sorrow of that knowledge filled him and if he’d had the energy, he would sob. He was responsible for these men’s lives and he had failed. Failed in his mission and failed to protect them. Again. Now they were dead, or dying, and it was his fault.
He strained his fading vision toward where Gojyo lay propped against the wall. The half breed hadn’t moved from where he landed when they’d thrown them into this cold, stone room with its hard marble floor and left them to die.
Sanzo clung to hope he didn’t have, and searched Gojyo for any signs of life. The rise and fall of his chest, the tiniest twitch of muscle that signified there was still something there. But everything inside him screamed “gone” and Sanzo didn’t have the will left to deny it.
One bronzed arm lay at an odd angle and lank crimson hair obscured Gojyo’s face, unrecognizable with blood and bruises. They’d beaten him to death.
Sanzo made a small desperate sound. A hollow, weak imitation of a sob and a single crystalline tear cut a cool path through the warm, wet of the blood on his face.
There was movement beside him, pulling his fading purple gaze from the lifeless shell that used to be Sha Gojyo, to floor next to him.
Hakkai looked up, dark blood staining his lips and dripping from his chin. He was curled over a pool of crimson fluid spreading out from his lower abdomen. They’d reopened the wound on his stomach that never fully healed and this time there was no one to shove his organs back into place and carry him home.
Dim emerald eyes locked with his in an expression that Sanzo welcomed, needed, hated. Understanding, sadness and a smile of all things traced across blood stained lips.
A single word issued from Hakkai, syllables drawn out, asking a question and giving an answer all at the same time. “Sanzo…”
Sanzo closed his eyes, opened them, barely able to force his lips into a broken whisper. “Dead, all dead…dying.”
The words came out slurred, almost unintelligible. The movement awakened the dull ache in his tongue, and Sanzo remembered that the coppery tang in his mouth wasn’t just from internal bleeding or his torn lips. A renewed sense of blended panic, anger, pain flooded him as he recalled the sensation of almost biting cleanly through his own tongue.
Hakkai nodded, acknowledging the words and responding to them. His hand moved with agonizing slowness, slipping under Sanzo’s pale bloodied fingers and gripping them weakly. He stretched, the movement causing a harsh, sobbing gasp of pain as it strained the gaping wound in his stomach.
Sanzo tried to stop him, to tell him it was useless, but all that came out was a hissing breath. Lips pressed against his knuckles, leaving a smear of blood, so dark it was almost black, on white flesh. He felt the cool skin of Hakkai’s cheek and the soft brush of chestnut hair as Hakkai laid his head on his hand. Hakkai’s last rattled breath warmed Sanzo’s skin and he felt the life leave him.
Sanzo sighed, the pain finally dimming to a distant memory as his purple eyes slipped out of focus. All he saw was pure, blinding light and for a moment he was confused, he’d expected blackness. Then there was nothing.
-------------------------------
TBC
So, am I wasting my time? Or would you like to see more? Feedback is always appreciated.
Prologue: Gone
Summary: One loss is followed by another. But is it truly lost? Fate has a strange way of working things out and the end sometimes is only a beginning.
A/n: This is the product of my sick twisted mind when given the question: What would happen if the Sanzo-ikko lost the final battle against Goumao? I apologise for this. It contains something I swore I would never do: Character Death. But notice, this is only the prologue, hint, hint. Read the warnings, please. Oh, and please review. Should I continue this? I probably will anyway but it never hurts to ask!
Warnings:
Dark themes: Implied rape and torture. Violence and gore.
Yoai/Shounen-ai: i.e Guy on guy sex and/or affection
Character Death
Pairings: Implied Hakkai/Sanzo, implied others/Sanzo, Tenpou/Konzen, implied one sided Kougaiji/Sanzo
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me besides this plot. The characters represented here belong soley to Kazuya Minekura
---------------------------
He’d always thought people went into shock or lost consciousness long before they died. But he remained keenly aware of himself. All he knew was pain. He wondered if it was possible to die of pain alone because there were far too many wounds on his body for him to locate a fatal one. Maybe this was his punishment. To remain conscious and aware right up until the moment his heart stopped beating.
Sanzo knew he was dying. The thought scared him a lot more than he expected. It was morbidly humorous that he was afraid of dying now when only hours before he’d been silently begging for death.
Never aloud, though. No, he’d managed to maintain his pride. No matter how many times they’d hurt him, tied him down with ropes so tight that it pulled layers of skin from his wrists, forced his legs apart and violated him so many times he’d lost count, and tore screams of agony from his throat, he would not beg them for death. Sanzo never begged for anything.
Death didn’t terrify him nearly as much as the absolute silence in his mind. Gone was the hopeful, playful little voice that represented everything Goku. Gone was the nagging little whisper and its absence was so profound it was horrifying.
For the first time, Sanzo felt himself searching for it. Goku had said once he could hear Sanzo calling him, so why couldn’t he hear it now? The answer came to him with the force of a shotgun blast but he refused to accept it. He grasped for the faintest glimmer of the thread that tied Goku to him and it was silent, dark, dead.
Sanzo’s last shred of hope shattered under the crushing weight of Goku’s death. He felt cold, so goddamn cold, but his broken body couldn’t even tremble anymore.
If he had strength left, he would cover himself. But through the haze of blood-loss and agony, he couldn’t force his shredded limbs to obey him. So he laid there, exposed, open, violated, praying for the oblivion of shock or unconsciousness and, a little less fervently, for death.
He didn’t have to turn his head to know he wasn’t alone in the room. From the way he was tilted he could clearly see Hakkai and Gojyo. And he knew, just knew that Gojyo was dead. The blackening sorrow of that knowledge filled him and if he’d had the energy, he would sob. He was responsible for these men’s lives and he had failed. Failed in his mission and failed to protect them. Again. Now they were dead, or dying, and it was his fault.
He strained his fading vision toward where Gojyo lay propped against the wall. The half breed hadn’t moved from where he landed when they’d thrown them into this cold, stone room with its hard marble floor and left them to die.
Sanzo clung to hope he didn’t have, and searched Gojyo for any signs of life. The rise and fall of his chest, the tiniest twitch of muscle that signified there was still something there. But everything inside him screamed “gone” and Sanzo didn’t have the will left to deny it.
One bronzed arm lay at an odd angle and lank crimson hair obscured Gojyo’s face, unrecognizable with blood and bruises. They’d beaten him to death.
Sanzo made a small desperate sound. A hollow, weak imitation of a sob and a single crystalline tear cut a cool path through the warm, wet of the blood on his face.
There was movement beside him, pulling his fading purple gaze from the lifeless shell that used to be Sha Gojyo, to floor next to him.
Hakkai looked up, dark blood staining his lips and dripping from his chin. He was curled over a pool of crimson fluid spreading out from his lower abdomen. They’d reopened the wound on his stomach that never fully healed and this time there was no one to shove his organs back into place and carry him home.
Dim emerald eyes locked with his in an expression that Sanzo welcomed, needed, hated. Understanding, sadness and a smile of all things traced across blood stained lips.
A single word issued from Hakkai, syllables drawn out, asking a question and giving an answer all at the same time. “Sanzo…”
Sanzo closed his eyes, opened them, barely able to force his lips into a broken whisper. “Dead, all dead…dying.”
The words came out slurred, almost unintelligible. The movement awakened the dull ache in his tongue, and Sanzo remembered that the coppery tang in his mouth wasn’t just from internal bleeding or his torn lips. A renewed sense of blended panic, anger, pain flooded him as he recalled the sensation of almost biting cleanly through his own tongue.
Hakkai nodded, acknowledging the words and responding to them. His hand moved with agonizing slowness, slipping under Sanzo’s pale bloodied fingers and gripping them weakly. He stretched, the movement causing a harsh, sobbing gasp of pain as it strained the gaping wound in his stomach.
Sanzo tried to stop him, to tell him it was useless, but all that came out was a hissing breath. Lips pressed against his knuckles, leaving a smear of blood, so dark it was almost black, on white flesh. He felt the cool skin of Hakkai’s cheek and the soft brush of chestnut hair as Hakkai laid his head on his hand. Hakkai’s last rattled breath warmed Sanzo’s skin and he felt the life leave him.
Sanzo sighed, the pain finally dimming to a distant memory as his purple eyes slipped out of focus. All he saw was pure, blinding light and for a moment he was confused, he’d expected blackness. Then there was nothing.
-------------------------------
TBC
So, am I wasting my time? Or would you like to see more? Feedback is always appreciated.