Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction ❯ Crimson Craving ❯ Part One ( Chapter 1 )

Crimson Craving 1

Mrs. Rusalki

Standard disclaimers apply.

The repining of the earthly man's state of mind caused by the superficial cracks in life is but a flaw in the human nature.

That was what he had always believed. To put it more succinctly: misfortune is a matter of mind. If one doesn't mind then it doesn't matter. He couldn't entirely remember who had said it but one thing was for sure. The maxim still felt correct. Only, he did mind his misfortune and therefore it mattered - a lot…

The common complaint during his sanity gaps of the whys it happened to him occurred with more frequency than what he felt was correct. It was infuriating but expectedly enough nobody could offer him an answer. Hampering him alongside these problems was that the only fare to satiate him had been separated for reasons that were mainly providence's cruel joke, as if the first hadn't been enough.

Two days before…

The party had been traveling for three whole, restless days. Everyone was exhausted and no one bothered to hide it. Goku's constant starvation diminished their provisions to nothingness in a day hand a half. Sanzou's aggressive disciplinary practices against Goku were barely held back by Hakkai as he was also half-starved at the second day. If that wasn't enough, Gojyo continually spouted annoying complaints the entire journey, wasting what little was left of his energy for asinine arguments with Goku. This then prevented the ill-tempered monk's half-baked attempts at meditation to attenuate his hunger, a common ritual for the religious during fasting. Needless to say, the trip's end presented an excuse for a feast for the exasperated, dirty, malnourished men.

The food served by humans in the stifling inn were superb and even the usually skeptical Sanzou relaxed his guard and took the food in pleasantly… more specifically that solitary pear-shaped aromatic fruit that the others were disinclined to touch because of its relatively unsightly appearance. For Sanzou, it looked so tantalizingly beautiful because of its color. It was almost black but upon closer observation, it was actually a very dark red, the color of blood clotting inside a body, an internal hemorrhage that would never go away unless removed manually.

So without the unshakeable, malign presence of youkai nearby, he gave in to the temptation and took a dainty bite of the aromatic fruit.

And another, and another and so forth… its taste was beyond explanation. It was sweet and tangy, edged with that sharp metallic taste that tickled his taste buds. The wonderfully fine texture allowed the flesh to melt in his mouth. The strange thing was that it didn't leave any residue or discoloring in his mouth despite its lush hue.

Another quality of it that he hadn't noticed instantly was that the fruit in itself was addictive. He couldn't get enough of it and so he ordered a whole bunch from the owner of the restaurant. The owner, a stout honest-looking man, instantly refused to give him what he ordered claiming that it was very expensive and very rare.

Sanzou flashed him his gold credit card. The other three grinned and happily partook of the meal before them, holding down their curiosity for the fruit because it was unlikely that the monk would share something as precious as it was.

And yet the owner still refused. As he was about to tell them about the legend surrounding the fruit, Sanzou gave him a glare that signified death to those who should defy him.

"I have little tolerance for impractical legends," he stated tersely (believing that the owner just wanted to raise the bid for the fruit). That of course was true. How many independent youkai were after him because of the ridiculous belief that eating a Sanzou would bring eternal life? He had had enough alright.

He wasn't going to let another implausible and groundless theory prevent him from doing something as trivial as eating a fruit. He simply was not going to stand for it especially with his plain belief for his capabilities and self-seeking goals.

Muttering under his breath and shaking his head, the owner called for another round of the fruit and presented it to the disgruntled customer who consumed it with barely concealed greed.

It was a mighty coincidence that Sanzou happened to be alone when the craving set in. The others went about their own tasks; Hakkai and Goku were out shopping, Gojyo was going about his usual fornicating attempts while Sanzou was taking a well-deserved shuteye that became a full-blown siesta in his separate room. That was when he conjured images of the dominant scarlet element in his life other than the blood running through his veins. Sha Gojyo.

The dream was a collection of past events concerning the redhead that had somehow lodged themselves in his unconscious. Funny, they didn't seem so significant during the times that they actually happened.

But now, perhaps due to the distortion that dreams often do, Gojyo's scarlet hair, wine-colored pupils, and the fresh blood shed in his hands had somehow become shining objects against a gray, unimportant background. All of a sudden, the redhead gave him a debonair smile, drawing Sanzou's attention to his twinkling eyes. Dreams, they gave the monk so much freedom that he was prepared to revel in that intoxicating, ethereal smile Gojyo had offered quite generously… that was until the experience took a turn down horror lane.

With one unexpected motion, Gojyo's blood-drenched hands swiped at his own face, digging his unusually long fingernails into a socket before pulling out one of those white balls adorned with fine but torn capillaries and lovely ruby pupils drawn on their surface.

Gojyo held out his hand, the smile still present in his remaining eye, and proffered the blonde viewer a most tempting gift.

He suddenly woke with a start, realizing instantly that there was something undeniably wrong about the environment. It was not a feeling of danger that had badgered his senses. It was something more tangible but he couldn't name it right away because his senses were only half-awake.

Feeling rather dazed from the strange dream, he walked to the bathroom to eliminate the sickness with cool water. He could also bathe himself because of the sticky sweat running down the insides of his arms and legs. The back of his skintight top was drenched with perspiration too.

He reached the bathroom just in time and steadied himself by propping his arms on the sides of the sink. Finally, when he decided to open his eyes, the world all at once became a blur and the only thing that his sight made out was that tiny dot on his forehead.

Now Sanzou sure as hell regretted having eaten the damn fruit.

For the legend happened to be no legend at all. It was true by all respects. The red fruit's name kasalanan translated to the word sin in an exotic country far into the east. The reason behind the name perhaps was the side effects of the fruit's juices. It compelled one to desperately hunger after live things that were associated with flesh, blood and bodily parts.

How could one affected by this strange juice not hunger for these when the only color that was distinguishable to him was… red?

Now two days later and still, Gojyo, the better subject of his phantasmagoric torture and most likely the only one who could reach him hadn't returned. Hakkai and Goku had been beside themselves with worry for Sanzou would not, and could not talk to anyone…

Except when he ordered for blood, the fruit, Gojyo or all of the above. Unfortunately, they were unable to give him any of his requests. Where were they going to get the blood when the people in the surrounding area were still using it to live? If they gave him the fruit, wouldn't it just lengthen Sanzou's terrible state? As for Gojyo, they had alternately searched the whole village, asking for the man with his description, careful about not letting anything on about his race, but no one was able to name his whereabouts. Asking around for a person with a half-youkai's appearance had been especially tough because of its taboo nature.

Time was dwindling for Sanzou was definitely going to starve himself to death.

The craving was then reaching its peak. It came to the point when the two were even forced to tie the monk to the bedposts because if they didn't, Sanzou would bleed to death. Sometimes he would keep scratching and biting his own limbs just to draw blood and watch it crawl on his pale skin. Goku took pity upon his keeper and savior so he suggested the most brilliant suggestion he had ever come up with.

"Hakkai, ne, can we bring Sanzou some blood? I don't want to see him like this."

"Neither do I but we can't shed the blood of the innocents…" answered Hakkai timidly. Goku's eyes lighted up and whispered into Hakkai's ear.

The green-eyed youkai smiled, amazed at Goku's brilliant suggestion. "All right then, what are we waiting for?" He was about to stand up when the boy shook his head.

He shifted his weight a little to the side. "Please stay," he requested while fidgeting. "He needs the company and make sure that ero kappa gets it." He walked towards the door and closed it behind him before skirting down the stairs. He didn't hear Hakkai's half-hearted reply to his request.

The boy came back to the delirious Sanzou's room roughly two hours later, carrying six bottles of viscous red liquid. His shirt and pants were splattered with the same liquid and a wide smile was plastered on his face. Stopping beside Sanzou's bed, he pulled the cork off one of the bottles. The distinct smell of iron invaded their nostrils, and expectedly enough, the monk's thrashing on the bed ceased.

He sniffed the heavy, rich aroma like a stray dog and was easily intoxicated by its scent. His breaths came in short, impatient gasps. The smell wasn't enough! He had to have more of it!

"GIVE ME!" he screamed and the bed started to shake so violently that its joints creaked loudly.

Goku almost jumped out of his skin. Thankfully, Hakkai was present with his quick wit.

"Hayaku, Goku, pour the blood on the bathtub," he said, glancing behind him because he was trying to hold his friend down. The boy instantly did what he was told.

"Just a little while now, Sanzou and it'll be ready," he said in a soft placating tone that eased the monk just a little bit.

Goku signaled for Hakkai that everything was in order. The even-tempered man glanced at the rope on the floor to see if it was sufficient for its next use. It would do.

After much struggling and gagging, the two successfully placed the monk in a porcelain tub filled with liquid reeking with the smell of rust and decay.

The feverish man calmed down naturally while he toyed with the liquid he was immersed in. He seemed lost in his own world, as if a drug had locked the very soul of his being in another dimension. There weren't any traces of the old Sanzou in this seemingly stoned one.

His movements were slow and deliberate while he lathered the thick liquid over the parts of his body that weren't submerged in blood. The pair watched him uneasily, half expecting him to take the blood orally but fortunately he didn't. The closest that he came to it was to trace his red fingers over his pale lips.

"I think it's best to leave him alone now, Goku," said Hakkai, never taking his eyes off his friend. How hard it was to see him like this! Especially for the boy who took one last glance at Sanzou before exiting the candlelit bathroom. Hakkai wasn't sure but he thought he saw the glazed eyes of the boy.

They sat side by side on Sanzou's bed that was still covered with thick ropes. The green-eyed man vaguely wondered how they could cure him. Perhaps there was some way to flush the substance out of his system or maybe… maybe there was a remedy that could neutralize the toxins. If the latter was true, where would they find it? It was as unanswerable as the first question. Everywhere he went, there was a dead end.

Unless of course, if he asked for outside help. 'If only Gojyo were here,' he thought miserably. 'Even if he's not much of a thinker, his presence could make things lighter.'

And then the doorknob turned. The door opened and revealed a beat-up man with tattered clothing; his limbs were stained with day-old grime that was the color of rust and one of his eyes were closed.

Hakkai instantly recognized him in spite of his appearance. "Gojyo!" He yelled and rushed to the door to assist him, the sight of his friend in that state reminded him strongly of Sanzou's literal blood bath. Goku stood up too as he saw that the redhead was about to collapse. Hakkai caught him just in time, their skin making contact.

Gojyo jerked involuntarily and tried to push Hakkai away as if he had done something so repulsive. The green-eyed man was hurt at Gojyo's reaction. He hadn't done anything.

The redhead's open eye was shining with fright. His parched lips tried to make some sound of their own. "S-stay away from… m-me…" he commanded. He started rubbing his bare arms briskly as if he were cold when the room's temperature was perfectly normal.

"What's wrong Gojyo?" asked Goku, a look of concern was over his face.

Gojyo's teeth were chattering now but he had to know something. He had to ask. "W-what's happening to S-Sanzou? Why blood?"

Hakkai and Goku exchanged incredulous looks. How the hell did Gojyo find out about Sanzou?

"He's not himself… how did you know?" it was Hakkai who asked this time.

Gojyo ignored the other's queries as he tried to get up from the floor. Hakkai was about to help him when he held up his hand to decline. His efforts were rewarded as he was able to limp his way into the bathroom. He ignored the searing pain in his wounds that were inflicted upon him.

'Damn bitch,' he thought in aversion.

The large candle placed in one corner of the room wasn't enough to illuminate the figure sitting in the tub. Occasional flickers of light allowed Gojyo to see patches of white skin stained with something darker. He knew how it looked like. Hakkai had made him see. Hakkai had touched him. The curse was working perfectly well now.

"G-gojyo," a soft deep voice called from the shadows. "Gojyo… come here…"

He complied with the other's wishes because it had sounded so pathetic. If it weren't for the image that Hakkai had transferred to him, he wouldn't have believed that it was the proud, royally spoiled monk, Genjo Sanzou.

Gojyo knelt beside the tub, examining the man before him absently. Had he been stronger and more aware, he would've been terrified of the manic grin the monk was giving him; those dazed purple eyes searching deeply in his red ones.

Because for Gojyo at the moment, only the stench of blood and the pain in his wounds were all that mattered…

The not-so-blonde-now monk reached out one hand with long fingers to touch Gojyo's closed eyelids. The other hadn't foreseen this because if he did, he would not have allowed it. But now it was there and Sanzou's skin had made contact with his.

A collection of images of his own passed through Gojyo's mind in less time than it takes for the eye to blink. The last one being his offering of his eyeball…

He fainted on the spot, a soft thud sounded when he hit the floor while Sanzou's animalistic howl rang throughout the household.

TBC