Starvation

Disclaimer: Don't own Saiyuki. Just working some things out through this fic and having some fun.

A/N: Sorry it's been so long for an update, but I've been sucked into two other fandoms since last I posted. Thanks to bluesnake40, Nanaka, Lacerta (if you think it was dark a while ago, just you wait), DuosAngel, jarm (wow, I've never had my writing described as "powerful" before. It's very flattering!), Metis, and especially vampslyr, (who seems to understand exactly what I am getting at) for your reviews. A warning, this chapter is a harbinger of the next, which involves a practice I can't stand, self-mutilation. Read this chapter and skip the next, if you are squeamish. And, no, I really didn't mean to make Hakkai this emo. I wrote this before I knew what "emo" meant. Oh and thoughts = *blah*

9. Deus Ex Machina

Hakkai woke up curled into a knot, drenched in sweat. Miserably, he hoped for his wings, to curl about him, to hide in. A sanctuary made from the substance of his own body, so he wouldn’t even have to utilize the world’s help to find shelter. No. Wings meant no limiters. Not having limiters was bad, moreover, it was wrong, especially now.

*If I’m unbound, I desire more. Desire is wrong. My wanting anything from anyone is wrong. I can only hurt. My touch cuts, if I have claws or not. My kiss tears, if I have fangs or not. And my heart . . . with all that possessiveness, all that /mine/, is already making an attempt to smother them.*

He had to stop it.

Hakkai looked over at his roommate, hair spread out over the pillow like a stain of vermilion ink. The tall man was hunched up in the covers, a sheet thrown up over his face. Blood-colored, anonymous. That was how his demon would have liked to see Gojyo, he was sure. A body, a lump of meat to satiate any kind of hunger he had.

*No, my lover. Warmth, passion, assurance, love. My mate. I should go to him and tell him I didn’t mean it. I should beg forgiveness and welcome him. I should accept his blood as part of myself. To be welcomed and accepted is all he’s ever wanted.*

The dark-haired youkai ignored the urges of instinct, thinking them insane products of a manipulative spell. It sounded sweet enough, but he remembered how tied those feelings were to his lust for blood and a grasping possessiveness that frightened him. Gojyo never asked for it.

*He said he’d be anything I needed.*

*He was delirious.* Hakkai argued back at himself. *I don’t deserve devotion like that. I can’t let myself love him. I can’t let him love me.* He searched out the drive within him that made him want to join the redhead’s side. *I’m fooling myself to even entertain the notion that this might be real. Even if it is, I’m a monster. I’m a danger to him.* He recalled the fury and hunger that had made him sink his fangs into Gojyo. *No. This has to stop.*

Hakkai concentrated, tried to destroy every thought of mate and clan, family and lover that drew him on to Gojyo. *Yes, a lover that I practically killed. Try again. Knowing it was his own inner voice urging him on was worse than feeling as if he was possessed by Chin Yisou. Gods, break his mind from mine! Make him stop wanting me!*

Something blue and luminescent crashed across Hakkai’s field of vision. It was gone in an instant, but he could feel the explosion in his chi. He mopped sweat from his forehead and looked at the softly snoring form across from his bed. There was no pull, no urge to be close, either to mate, to feed, or to simply sleep beside Gojyo.

Something nicking away at his chi made him realize what he had done. This was a barrier wall, as real as the ones that shielded the others from enemy attack. He’d placed it between Gojyo and the most dangerous of his urges. It wasn’t as hard as putting up a full-size shield. He couldn’t keep this up indefinitely, though, and he’d have to put up two more for Sanzo and Goku. All three shields would eventually have to come down if he needed to use his chi in battle.

It was a temporary solution, then. He’d have to weigh out his options again, as carefully as he had, or should have, when he’d been considering what to do about his hunger. This was so much worse.

Instead of blood, he was coveting their souls.

*Don’t be stupid,* something inside him snapped, stinging logic that sounded a bit like Sanzo. *You aren’t possessed by Hell. Stop thinking as if you were. This isn’t as bad as all that. It doesn’t have to change anything you don’t want it to.*

*I want.*

*You want, they’ll answer. Before you bit any of them, they came to you. You may have made it pleasant for them, but their willingness is no illusion. Stop listening to your guilt, your self-loathing.*

*Can I be sure that I haven’t manipulated them? No. Even if I was sure, I can’t ask them for more. What I want is too much.*

Hakkai felt desolate, but reminded himself that it was better this way. He glanced at Gojyo again, and a pang of loneliness ripped past his shield. *I’m feeding on his trust. I’m just a filthy parasite. I shouldn’t get close.*

He padded silently into the bathroom. Hakkai had always seen blood on his hands, but now the blood was theirs. He was drenched in it, he felt like it was creeping from his pores to stain his skin permanently. Nothing would wash it way, but his flesh was crawling with the urge to try.

Hakkai wiped his forehead. Only sweat.

He scrubbed at his face. Between his near-blind eye and the haze from having brutally rubbed his eyelids, his reflection looked indistinct, thin. *I’m fading away. Cho Hakkai is becoming a ghost, as surely as Cho Gonou did. I’m becoming one of those blood-drinking ghouls who come back to feast on and rape their families and friends. A chiang-shih. **

Slender fingers fumbled for more soap, found only a thin sliver. Eyes stinging, Hakkai scrabbled with the door to the medicine cabinet. Before he could secure what he sought, a box clattered off the shelf. Curious, he lifted it from the sink and squinted at it.

The hinge yielded. Inside, folded in a carved indentation, was a straight razor. Hakkai pried it out with clumsy fingers. He pulled the blade from its jackknifed position and stared.

*I could let their blood out of me. I could rest, let my body replenish my own blood. Sanzo wants to move as fast as possible, but I think he’ll give me that much in exchange for not being bonded to me, for not being bonded to my demon. I’ll make the cuts in human form, shallow, and let them bleed awhile. Then, I’ll take off my limiters in order to heal faster. If the wounds close fast enough, I can wash, and walk out of here without them ever knowing.*

*Who cares if they know? They should be glad that I’ve tried to free them from my influence with this kind of speed. They should be glad that I’m finishing this as quickly and simply as possible. Permanently. I’ll never bite them again, if I ever prey upon anything else.*

*The shower. Under the water to wash it all down the drain, that would be easier than leaving blood on the floor to clean. Cut first, turn on the water after so I don’t slip and cut too deeply. I owe too much to the others to die right now.*

He hadn’t touched a blade for a weapon since Kanan. The mahogany handle, the blue-grey gleam of steel seemed to leer at him. It seemed like something of a Deus Ex Machina for him to have found it. Why not? It could possibly be a Merciful Goddess Ex Machina. Se could be telling him that this was the right path to take.

Now, all there was to determine was the path of the blade. Obviously cutting near his wrists or throat was out. Along his hairline would work; scalp wounds bled a lot, but weren’t nearly as deadly as getting near an artery. That would be easy to conceal, as well. Inner thigh, maybe? The back of his calf? Yes, his legs would work, as long as the cuts were fairly shallow. If he somehow cut his femoral artery, it could kill him. His chest was an obvious choice, close to his heart. Yes.

Wait, of course. Down further, it was perfect. That hateful, twisted scar would finally come to some use. The corded skin was thick enough to afford him not to cut through deeply, to either veins or the soft organs beneath, but it would bleed, he was sure of it. It serves me right.

It served him perfectly. He’d never take what he had no right to from anyone he cared for, and what he’d taken wrongly would seep out from the very badge of his darkness. He’d free them, and the mission could continue. Perhaps never the way it had progressed, but it could continue. Better their friendship should be strained than he should take their privacy, their blood, or their lives from them.

*If I don’t attack them from an even greater need for blood.*

*If I’m weak enough from blood loss and hunger, I won’t be able to hurt . . . *

*Weak. Finally, his weakness of body would match his weakness of will.* He made his decision with that thought.

The healer took a deep breath, another glance at the waning image in the mirror. Pale, thin, all sharp angles, and all sharp edges underneath that.

*How could they have wanted this? The same thought at the same time. It’s the forbidden magic of my demon side, that’s all it is.*


**chiang-shih- A Chinese vampire, often depicted with serrated fangs, white hair, and long claws. Created when the inferior soul, the p’o (in ancient Chinese traditions, people were said to have two souls), the more animal and instinctive soul, took over the body after death. Particularly lustful and ravenous, even for a type of vampire.