Strangers on a Train

Chapter Three


Sanzo was sitting on a bench seat running the length of a section in one end of the ancient train’s dining car, which was as close as you could get to a bar in the damned motel/diner on wheels. He was nursing his second whiskey, a surprisingly good brand, and trying to ignore the rumblings in his stomach that had begun when he had started smelling the tempting food aromas wafting through the dining car, when Gojyo had arrived, waved to the waiter for a beer, and flopped down next to him on the seat. Sanzo was suddenly overwhelmed by how tired he was, but tried to blame it on the whiskey. He had been so keyed up the previous night, he had slept only an hour or so, and even that had been fitful and plagued with troubled dreams. He was paying for it all now: his body was screaming at him for want of decent food and sleep, combined with the stresses and strains of the past several days.

“Well now, Sanzo-sama…..” the kappa exhaled happily as he stretched his legs out in front of him. He threw one arm up behind his head to serve as an impromptu cushion for his head against the cold window, “I got our bags settled into our compartments. The conductor wanted to see your ticket, but I vouched for you, told ’em he could trust you, you being a priest and all that. I was gonna say I was sure you had it stashed somewhere in that magical robe of yours, but then I remembered you were traveling incognito. Smart move, that, by the way,” he nodded, indicating his approval of Sanzo’s choice of street clothes instead of his usual robes, which tended to make him stand out and draw largely unwanted attention everywhere he went.

“Yup,” Gojyo sighed contentedly as he laced his fingers together behind his head and slouched further down in the seat, “He was fine with it as long as I was willing to vouch for you, especially once he heard you were a man of the cloth and all – and, before you even start to get your knickers in a twist, I slipped him a little extra coin to keep that fact strictly on the QT, ok cu-tie?” He grinned and cut his eyes in Sanzo’s direction to see what effect his little speech was having.

Sanzo rolled his eyes, ignoring the blatant flirtation and staring glumly into his whiskey, watching the little rings on the vibrating surface of the dark amber fluid as he attempted to hold the small glass steady against the perpetual rolling motion of the train. The goddamn kappa was enjoying his new self-assigned job as the “company dick” far too much already, he thought, smirking to himself at his inadvertent but entirely appropriate play on words.

“Just why are you here, anyway,” he said in a low growl, “and how the hell did you get a fucking ticket?”

Gojyo tried not to grin too smugly as he snagged his beer from the waiter and secured it between his denim-clad legs long enough to fish his smokes out of the pocket of his leather jacket. He offered one to Sanzo, who made a face in response like he had caught a whiff of badly-decayed roadkill. The kappa went ahead and lit one for himself, prolonging the process for effect, then blowing several smoke rings, sending one each drifting through its predecessor, before he finally deigned to casually answer the monk’s question.

“What, oh, that? No problemo. I snuck over to the train station right after you went to bed, told ‘Kai I needed cigs. Like I said, I just told the stationmaster you had decided you needed me to go with you as your bodyguard. The fact that I could rattle off the numbers of the Talking Heads’ Gold Card may have helped to convince him that I was legit…” He suppressed his self-satisfied smirk as much as he could, but not completely.

Sanzo’s eyebrow slowly raised and he could feel his blood pressure going up with it.

“You’ve… memorized the goddamn AnEx card number? Tch… I don’t even want to think about the possible implications of that.” He slammed back the rest of his whiskey and raised his hand for the white-coated waiter to bring him another.

Gojyo smiled impishly and quickly drained his beer so he could put his empty bottle on the waiter’s tray beside Sanzo’s shot glass, and pointed to it to indicate he wanted a refill as well.

He leaned back against the old green leather bench seat and sighed happily as he lit another cigarette. He saw Sanzo fumbling for his apparently nonexistent lighter and leaned in to allow the monk to light the smoke dangling uselessly from his lips from his own, grinning wolfishly as he looked up into those intense violet eyes, so close that he felt their hair over their foreheads brush together. The train jostled and out of reflex Gojyo grabbed Sanzo’s hand that was holding his cigarette with his own hand to steady it. They froze for a split-second as a jolt of energy surged through both of them, fast as lightning but just as undeniable. While Sanzo’s eyes shuttered instantly, Gojyo’s widened like a startled deer, and he dropped the priest’s hand as if it had been made of molten metal. Sanzo turned away and slowly puffed his cigarette to life from the small spark he had gotten from Gojyo’s, concentrating on it as if getting it lit suddenly was the most important thing in the world, requiring every particle of his attention. Finally satisfied that it was fully lit, he let it dangle from his fingers and took a long slow drink of his whiskey as he stared out of the window opposite him, completely ignoring his seatmate.

Leaning back in his seat again, Gojyo feigned a casual attitude and hoped Sanzo didn’t notice his accelerated breathing. He tried to will away the tightness he felt in the crotch of his jeans just from that short, close contact with the pissy, self-righteous monk, reminding himself it was going to be a long train trip in close quarters, and if he didn’t want to get shot before the first day was out, he was going to have to exercise more self-control than that. He was going to have to somehow deal with the raging loinsweats that seemed to overtake him every time he got within ten inches of the arrogant blond, but it obviously wasn’t going to be easy. He tried to remember what they had been talking about, just minutes ago… ahh, the AnEx card.

“Don’t piss yourself over the goddamn card, your fabulousness,” he exhaled slowly, focusing on the smoke rings he was blowing, “I may be a flirt, and I may even skirt the edges of the rules at a card game occasionally, but I’m not a thief. I only used it to get the ticket. Believe it or not, I’m mostly here because I couldn’t stand the sad-sack looks on the monkey and ‘Kai’s faces last night, they were so fuckin’ worried about you making this little expedition by yourself. So after they finally conked out, I went over to the station and bought the ticket, told the guy I was one of your star students.”

“Tch. That should do wonders for my image. Yeah, there’s lots of students studying to be Sanzo priests that look like you. I thought you told him you were my bodyguard.”

“I was kidding… jeez, you can’t even tell when someone is shitting you anymore. But we do have to share a sleeping compartment later on, they were overbooked – that was the truth. And hey, you’re not exactly standard issue priest material, yourself, your holiness.”

Sanzo paused and took a long drag on his smoke, watching the mountains go by in the window opposite them.

“Heh. True enough, I guess. But do try to keep the catting around to a minimum and don’t bring your skanks back to the compartment, or I’ll have to either shoot you or throw you off the goddamn train myself. Clear?”

“Fair enough,” Gojyo chuckled, “but from what I’ve seen so far, it’s going to be a long dry trip. I haven’t seen any women on this train yet that are over thirteen or under fifty-five, and Sha Gojyo does have certain standards to maintain. I do have my image to think of, you know…”

Gojyo stroked his hair as he spoke, like a banty rooster preening itself, not even realizing he was making the gesture. Sanzo rolled his eyes in disgust and shook his head.

“T.M.I.,” he decreed sharply as he took his whiskey from the waiter. “Keep your … predilections… to yourself, if you don’t mind,” he said as he took a long swig of the dark amber fluid. “Keep them coming,” he muttered to the waiter, snapping his fingers impatiently as the young man handed Gojyo his beer and turned to leave.

“Awww, what’s the matter, cherry-chan? Are we jealous?” The kappa couldn’t resist prodding his captive audience a bit. He knew, stuck as they were in a fast-moving steel box full of strangers like this, that he had a shade more immunity from the swift and deadly retribution of the Smith and Wesson, and maybe even the fan, than he might usually have. He was beginning to feel kind of loosened-up now anyway by the beers, not to mention the idea of having several days alone with Sanzo, so he decided to bait him further. In the back of his mind somewhere he saw Hakkai’s placid face and dimly heard his friend’s ever-patient voice, chiding him gently “now, now, Gojyo, musn’t poke the bear,” but he brushed the image away with a brief but effective rationalization, something along the lines of life being short anyway, and he might as well have some fun while he had the chance.

“So, Sanzo-sama….” he drawled, dragging it out. He was looking at the taciturn monk out of the corner of his eye, his mouth turned up in a devilish smirk as he spoke, his voice almost lilting, “what exactly is YOUR type, anyway? Inquiring minds want to know. Is it old, young, blond, brunet, tall, short, blue eyes, brown eyes,… gold ones?...”

Sanzo’s eyes flared as he turned and glared at him intensely for a short instant, then pointedly turned back and began ignoring him again, fixing his eyes on a point through the dirty window. He watched the scenery roll by, largely unchanging, peak after peak of steep greenish-gray mountains, clouds winding around them occasionally, and off in the background, looming over it all and fading away from them like the last colors of a sunset as they got further and further away, the giant peaks of Lhasa, paler at the top from the perpetual snow there at the extreme altitudes, the rooftop of the world. Somewhere in there, or just beyond, Sanzo thought, lay Shangri-la, their destination, perhaps their destiny.

He tried to convert Gojyo’s teasing voice in his ears into the sound of a buzzing insect, to make it just that insignificant, untranslatable into human speech, telling himself it was nothing to him beyond a mild annoyance. What made him angriest was that he couldn’t make that mind-control trick work this time, as he so often did during the long miles in jippu, and he kept on hearing him, no matter how hard he tried not to. That smartass voice, husky yet coy with flirtation, those damn teasing words, and the image, even when he closed his eyes, of those leering ruby eyes and those full, smirking lips reflecting back pale and distorted in the window across from him, hazy and sooty, but still there, goddammit… It all kept permeating his consciousness, rattling around in his fatigued mind like the constant rolling of the train’s wheels on the never-ending iron rails no matter how hard he tried to keep it all out, to keep Gojyo out, he was just there. There there there, like an annoying mosquito... buzz buzz buzz buzz… Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo… Gold eyes! That one pulled him out of his whisky and fatigue-dulled state like sudden blast of frosty air, and the remark was too much to ignore. He turned and shot the redhead an icy glare that he hoped said, clearly and unequivocally, “one more word = death,” in no uncertain terms.

Gojyo had noticed the look, and had continued, completely undeterred.

“Ooh, gold ones, eh? Interesting... “ Gojyo considered a minute, but decided to go in another direction, before he made any rash assumptions. “Hell, I don’t really even know for sure which way you swing for sure, priesty-o-mine, which is it, are you AC or DC? Is it tits or pecs that do it for you, pussy or prick? I’m guessing AC, since I’m sure I’ve seen you checking out my ass, and equally sure I’ve never once seen you checking out a woman’s boobs. Not even Yaone, and she’s got a rack that would stop this train, or even that little strawberry blonde friend of hers that loooooooves you so much.”

Sanzo groaned and slid down in his seat a little further at the mention of Lirin, one of the true banes of his existence. Of course, noticing his discomfort only spurred Gojyo on.

“Now little Lirin-chan’s got one helluva set of hooters on her, and even when she had ‘em wrapped around your freakin’ ears, you still didn’t notice… And being a gentleman as I am, I won’t even say what she’s had wrapped around your shoulders… heheheh… And you didn’t raise one of those pale eyebrows of yours one bit, did you? She could have been a cold dead codfish as far as you were concerned, not a nice soft warm bosomy female with a nice soft warm…”

“…Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo Gojyo stopstopstop!!!” Sanzo’s face was one giant clench, and any parts that weren’t clenched were twitching. He knocked back the rest of his shot of whiskey and gesticulated wildly with the empty glass to the waiter, who scurried over immediately with the bottle. Sanzo grabbed his hand when he went to pour it. “Leave. It. Go. Now,” he gritted out.

“Y-y-yes s-sir,” he said, placing it carefully on the little table next to them and hurrying off before the irritable blond man could say anything else to him.

Gojyo looked up from his beer in feigned innocence, his eyes wide. He picked up his smoke from the ashtray built into the steel armrest next to him and took a long drag, trying to subdue the large smirk that kept taking over his face.

“What’s the matter, cherry-chan?” Gojyo snickered, trying to sound innocent.

“And stop calling me that, for fuck’s sake!!” Sanzo quietly exploded between clenched teeth. The few drinkers and diners in the club car were already starting to turn around and watch in fascination at the interesting scene between the flamboyant grinning redhead and the very pretty but obviously cranky blond. It wasn’t something one saw every day jostling along the rickety iron rails that bisected the wild outlands of Western China.

“Well, isn’t it accurate? And while we’re on the subject, here’s another question. Are you still ‘fresh out of the box’, or aren’t you? And…” he decided to go ahead and push it, knowing full well he was on dangerous ground, “I mean, speaking just for the record here, I am right about ‘the other thing’, too, aren’t I? Wouldn’t you be batting for the all-boys team, if you were to dip your toe in the pond, so to speak?”

Gojyo knew he was really treading on thin ice now, and had dropped his voice to a conspiratorial whisper he was sure only Sanzo could hear above the clatter of the wheels rolling over the rough mountain tracks. He figured maybe the bouzu would be less likely to kill him if he wasn’t so worried about the whole dining car hearing their in-depth discussion of his sexual interests. Despite his whisper, his words spilled out fast and careless, like perhaps if he didn’t give the monk enough time to think about it, he might manage to get his questions out and get some kind of a response out of Sanzo without getting killed, just by some daring combination of sheer velocity and nerve.

Nonetheless, Sanzo had predictably blanched at his blunt questions: his forehead veins were visibly bulging and throbbing, and before long Gojyo heard the distinctive sound of the priest’s jaw grinding his teeth like millstones. He realized then that there no way he was going to get anything remotely resembling an answer, and that, no big surprise, he had touched a major nerve. It was clear he had hit a little too close to home to wrangle any kind of an informative response from the irascible monk, and he’d probably have to settle for escaping with his life. But given all that, it was clear that the whiskey must be having an effect on Sanzo, or surely he would have felt the cold muzzle of the gun in his ribs already, regardless their situation and how many people were around them, considering how far he had just trespassed the unwritten boundaries between him and Sanzo, the ones that it was understood that no one, not even Hakkai, was ever supposed to cross.

Gojyo looked at the level in the bottle and the expression on Sanzo’s face, how his lids over the violet eyes were droopier than usual, and his pale cheeks were beginning to look flushed. He tried to ignore the flash of tight heat in his gut that flamed again when he studied the monk so intently, when he got a close look at the curly sand-colored eyelashes framing those damned eyes of his, in that shade of deep dark purple that he had only seen on one other person, and She was a Goddess. Gojyo’s eyes were drawn to the line of tiny fine blond hairs that highlighted the delicate arch of those sandy blond aristocratic eyebrows of his: he couldn’t usually see all these details because normally they were obscured by Sanzo’s long bangs and his downcast eyes. Gojyo caught himself staring at him open-mouthed, frankly mesmerized as he studied him for a long heart-stopping moment while the monk was clearly oblivious. Only when Sanzo turned and glared at him did he realize he had been holding his breath while he had been staring at him, frozen like an animal stalking its prey, stock still and fascinated, studying the reluctant unearthly beauty as if it were the first time he had ever seen him. Gojyo found himself wishing they could just hold perfectly still like that indefinitely, that everything would just stop, that time would freeze, and he could sit there and stare at the pissy but elegant blond for as long as he wanted.

But, as usual, Sanzo’s ice-cold glare brought Gojyo back to reality like a bucket of cold water had been poured over his head. Not a minute too soon, he thought as he realized his cock was starting to swell in his pants again as his eyes strayed over the priest’s form, moving down the column of his neck as it disappeared into the sheath of the tight black undergarment, watching how his tapered fingers impatiently tapped on his whiskey glass, and imagining what it would feel like to feel those fingers wrapping around his hardened length. He shook himself, wondering where in the hell these thoughts were coming from, and reminded himself he had a long train ride ahead of him. If he was going to get the horrible hots like this for the monk on the first day, just sitting next to him, he was going to have a real problem when they had to share a sleeping compartment, because it was pretty clear Sanzo was not interested in what he had to offer, no matter how much he kidded him about it and tried to flirt him into it. He motioned to the waiter as he drained his beer, and cleared his throat, trying to will his mind on to safer subjects.

“So, hey, I know you said you were sure you could handle yourself on this trip alone, but now that I’m here anyway, any concerns I should know about? You expecting any trouble?” He sat back casually in the seat, staring at Sanzo’s distorted face in the window across from them, trying to read his scowling expression for any unusual nuances.

“Let’s put it this way,” the monk said in a low voice, “I won’t be leaving the sutra and gun in the sleeping compartment. The sutra is on me and the gun is loaded.” To avoid attracting any more attention than was absolutely necessary, Sanzo had opted to at least start the trip out in plain clothes, wearing a loose jacket and black denim shirt over his jeans and black undergarments instead of the robe and bamboo rasa. The jacket’s inside pockets held his sutra and gun in secure easy reach.

“Mmm,” Gojyo said, attempting to sound casual, but feeling somewhat alarmed. It was unusual for Sanzo to admit concern about his own safety, ever, and for him to admit that much, he must have a damned good reason. “So maybe it’s not such a bad thing that I showed up after all,” he said softly, managing with a little effort not to sound too self-satisfied at being right. Reminding himself to stick to the matter at hand, he continued. “Anything in particular you’d like to share? Anything I should know about?”

Sanzo lit a cigarette and exhaled slowly and thoughtfully. Gojyo could tell there was something on his mind, and gave him the time to decide how to communicate it to him.

“It’s not something specific, as much as a feeling, a hunch,” he finally said slowly. “I’d had an idea since Goku was shot – it was why I took off then. Talking with that asshole Hazel, I began to get more confirmation, but I could never get him to open up about it. The fucker knew what I wanted to know, and used the information like a goddamn cocktease.”

“You have some idea who shot the monkey?” Gojyo exclaimed incredulously. “You mean you had a real reason for taking off like you did? Shit man, we just thought you’d lost it! You should have fucking told us – we were pissed as hell at you, man. We thought you were just being a self-indulgent asshole. A little memo to the troops about this would have helped, Sanzo-sama.”

Gojyo shook his head and took a long pull on his beer as he tried to process this new information. He did his best to quash the anger he felt as he remembered those first days tending wounded Goku and Hakkai both, and having to explain to the poor monkey why his sun wasn’t there anymore. He shook his head gently as he heard Hakkai’s gentle voice in his head, urging him softly, “maa maa, Gojyo, it’s all over and done with now, your getting mad now won’t change anything. Let it go.”

“That’s easy for you to say…” he mumbled softly to himself as he drained his beer in one long gulp. He had pretty much accepted now that for the rest of his life he would hear Hakkai’s voice in his head when he had a dilemma, like the good angel on the character’s shoulder in a cartoon, to balance out his own devils, and he could just imagine the hearty laugh his best friend would get out of it if he told him about it.

“Say what?”

“Ne’ermind.” He lit a cigarette, and stretched “Maybe we should discuss this one back in our compartments, not here.”

Sanzo scanned the people in the dining car – they looked harmless enough, but you never knew.

“Yeah, probably not a bad idea.” Sanzo drained his glass and stretched slowly in his seat.

“First we should get some food – you need to eat. I know ‘Kai would skin me alive if I didn’t make sure you ate. I’ll get some food from the waiter on a tray and bring it; you go on ahead. Anything in particular you want?” He grabbed the small laminated menu and handed it to Sanzo to peruse. Sanzo stood and tossed it back down on the seat as he turned to walk out of the dining car.

“I’m not hungry. Just get another bottle of whiskey. And smokes. I need smokes.” His voice was cut off by the noise of the rails as he opened the door to leave the car.

“Somehow I knew you were going to say all of that,” Gojyo said, shaking his head, amused at the monk’s predictability.

An hour later they had opened the door between their small compartments, and the waiter had shown up with their dinner and other requests. Gojyo was pleasantly surprised with the food, and even Sanzo ate a fair amount of his, compared to what a pittance he usually ate.

As they were enjoying their smokes and glasses of whiskey after the meal, Gojyo returned to the subject at hand now that they had privacy for the discussion.

“So, you were saying you had your suspicions about who shot the monkey?”

“Hnn. Yeah. Well, it’s kinda a long story, but it goes back to my days with my master. There was this guy who used to hang around him a lot: he was a student at a different temple, supposed to be a real hot property – a prodigy even. But he was a real non-conformist – used to transcribe porn for calligraphy practice, then he’d sell it to the other students, stuff like that. He had very strong dharmic powers, but very dark. You remember Rikudo? His abilities would be a drop in the bucket, compared to this guy’s.” He suppressed a shudder, and continued.

“I was just a kid, but the little bit I was around him, I couldn’t stand the guy. He sucked up to my master big time, though, which really gave me the creeps.” He took a long drink of his whiskey and slid further down in his seat as the memories came back to him. “So the Sanzo in charge of the other temple died, and Koumyou – my master – was there when it happened, and he was supposed to sort of supervise the selection process for the next one. I don’t know the whole story – Koumyou went off with the guy for a year shortly afterwards, and died soon after he came back - but the upshot was this guy somehow ascended to Sanzo, and there were all kinds of rumors that he did it in ways that were not exactly, shall we say, by the book. Violent… dark magic, even. Koumyou never spoke about it – sometimes I almost wondered if this creep didn’t have some kind of hold on him, too. But the stories didn’t surprise me, and fit perfectly with the feelings I had about this creep. So we know from day one, this guy is ruthless, has all these dharmic powers, and he has the Muten Sutra, which rules over Death and Nothingness.”

Gojyo listened intently, turning sideways so he could better watch Sanzo’s face as he sat next to him on the dropped down bunk that served as bench seats in these compartments. It was rare for Sanzo to talk about his past or the Sanzo business, and the hanyou was absorbing the details like a sponge, since everything the monk said helped him to understand the mystery that was Genjyo Sanzo a little bit better, in addition to their current situation.

“The guy sounds pretty freakin’ creepy. So what happened to him?”

“Well, that’s the thing. His chakra point never appeared on his forehead when he became a Sanzo, which seemed pretty interesting, and he never assumed any of his duties that I know of. He and his sutra just disappeared around the time that my master was killed and his sutra stolen. I’ve never heard anything about him since.”

“What’s his name?”

“When he was a student it was Ken’yuu, his given name as a Sanzo was Ukoku Sanzo,” Sanzo replied. “He’d be about twelve years older than me – thirty-five, thirty-six? Dark coloring - black hair, very dark eyes- not sure of the exact color, he always wore glasses. He always had this really evil smirk on his face – I don’t think I ever saw him without it. And stubbly, always stubbly, once he was old enough, like the guy didn’t fucking know how to shave. That really bugged me for some reason.”

“So now, how do you think this guy ties in with Goku? You really think this is who shot Goku? Seems kinda far-fetched, I mean, why…? Wait. Ukoku. Isn’t that the guy you talked about with that Kami-sama asswipe?”

Sanzo tossed back another shot. His buzz had died off some since he had eaten, and he aimed to get it back. He really wanted to get that quiet muffled “hum” going in his head again, the one that shoved aside all the pain and angst and worry.

“Yup. That’s the one. I have a feeling he’s the one that set us up for that whole fucking fiasco. Just who the hell do you suppose his ‘master’was? What kind of being would allow, not allow – deliberately set in motion, apparently - a setup like that whole business? Had to be someone very powerful and incredibly twisted. I’ve had a funny feeling about this guy ever since.” He shook his head darkly, remembering the deep pain and agonizing defeats they all suffered during that period. “Then Hazel starts talking about this ‘dark priest from the East’ with great powers, that showed up in his country, and told him to come here. Sounds pretty goddamn suspicious to me.”

They both smoked in silence for several long moments, considering the implications of Sanzo’s words. Gojyo’s mind whirred as he thought about a sutra with the strength and power of Sanzo’s, but controlling Death and Nothingness, and in the hands of someone with that kind of dark and twisted mind. He shivered involuntarily as images of explosions and massive death came unbidden into his head. Another thought occurred to him.

“Sanzo? If his sutra controls death, do you suppose he taught Hazel his little hat trick with that amulet of his?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Hazel starts tap dancing and gets all coy every time I try to get him to talk about either how he does his resurrection bit, or Ukoku. But I think there’s definitely some kind of unholy alliance there.” He shook his head ruefully. “One other little fine point, if you’d like something else to worry about.” Gojyo looked at him apprehensively. “Koumyou Sanzo’s Seiten Scripture is still unaccounted for. I’ve been trying to find it since he was killed. If this guy was somehow involved in Koumyou’s death… and he had better hope I never get my hands on him, if he was… he could conceivably have two scriptures, not just one.”

Gojyo’s eyes grew wide, and he pondered further, almost afraid to ask his next question.

“Sanzo… you don’t suppose that this dickwad might actually have something to do with the Minus Wave, do you?”

Sanzo closed his eyes and rubbed them with his fingers as if really fatigued, trying to hide how startled he was to hear the words that had been haunting his mind actually spoken out loud. He lowered his voice and poured another shot and tossed it back.

“Yeah, it’s occurred to me. Every night and every day since I first grasped the magnitude of what the Minus Wave really is. Especially since I’ve never totally bought that business about it being caused by simply mixing science and demon magic; I really think there has to be more to it than that, or it would have happened a long time before it did. There has to have been a catalyst – like a sutra – that made it happen, that made something good go so far wrong, or allowed something so evil to be done intentionally. There just had to be.” He yawned and slid down in the seat, stretching his legs out straight and crossing them at his ankles. It was almost like finally sharing this knowledge with someone after carrying it as his solitary burden for so long had released a great deal of tension from Sanzo, and he suddenly felt surprisingly relaxed and very, very tired.

“Fucking stinking bloody blue hell,” Gojyo sighed slowly. “So now you think this guy is after us?”

“Tch. Hell no, asshole,” Sanzo said, his words starting to slur as his head began to nod, the fatigue, lack of sleep, and alcohol finally catching up with him. “I think he’s after me.”

His head slumped down towards his chest, and Sanzo did something Gojyo had never actually personally observed. He had seen the priest pass out drunk on occasion, and he had seen him knocked unconscious, but he had never seen this, as Sanzo’s eyes fluttered closed and he gently fell asleep where he sat, and began snoring softly.

Gojyo grinned. “Can’t hold your liquor any more, eh, priest?” he quietly teased.

He gently slid the jacket containing the sutra and gun off of Sanzo’s shoulders and slipped off his sandals before laying his head down on the seat. Very gingerly, he lifted his legs and swung them up onto the bench seat, and lifted up his head to slide the folded up jacket under his head like a pillow. He knew a regular pillow would be more comfortable, but he also knew Sanzo would be happier when he woke up, knowing that the sutra and gun had never been far away. He grabbed a blanket from compartment over the bunk and stretched it out over the sleeping monk, kneeling next to him for a moment to brush the pale hair back from his eyes.

“Sleep well, priesty-locks,” he whispered, and placed a soft kiss on his forehead before locking both compartments and heading out.

Gojyo was too restless to sleep yet, as it was still relatively early in the evening, and was feeling caged in by the stuffy air of the compartments and a little nervous, thanks to all the talk of dark monks and evil powers. He really could have done without all that, but reminded himself it was far better to know what he might be dealing with than to be uninformed and naive. Frustrated, he paced through the cars to try to find a place to enjoy something resembling fresh air. He found a small railed platform between two of the cars that had room enough for him to stand if he pressed his back against the cold steel body of the car, so he lit up a smoke and propped himself there, watching the dark shadows of the scenery roll by in the night, illuminated only by the half-moon when it came out from behind the thick clouds. He felt a shiver pass through him, and he wasn’t sure if it was the cool air rushing by his face, or Sanzo’s words echoing through his head, about the Sanzo priest gone bad. Gojyo had seen the power of Sanzo’s sutra up close and personal on several occasions, and the idea of that kind of thing, worse yet, a sutra of death and nothingness, in the hands of someone evil, gave him the absolute heebie-jeebies, especially the thought that the same person had some sort of mad-on against the members of his group.

Suddenly Gojyo felt the hairs stand up on the back of his neck, and he had a distinct feeling he was being watched. He turned quickly, tensed to summon his shakujou, and glanced at the sooty glass window of the door into the train car. He could have sworn he saw a dark shadowy figure facing him there but by the time he pulled focus it was gone. As he turned to look back into the night a flock of ravens sitting on a telegraph wire by the train track suddenly took flight as the train passed, their shadowy wings barely visible in the darkness as they cawed loudly and flapped upwards into the night in the cool mountain air.

~TBC~