Gensomaden Saiyuki Fan Fiction ❯ Metonymy ❯ Metonymy ( One-Shot )

  Disc. : Not mine. Who needs a bad-tempered monk anyway? Warning : not beta-read. Be kind to my mistakes (or point them, please).   (metonymy : figure of speech in which one thing is replaced by another associated with it. Don’t ask where does it come from.) Sanzo’s stream of thought in short sketches. Kinda. I don’t relly like Sanzo, unfortunately, plot bunnies can be aggressive.   oOoOoOo   There are times he thinks he’d gladly shoot the three of them. He’d be so much better on his own. But he never does.   oOoOoOo Sanzo curses.   It is such a common view that he doesn’t feel satisfaction any more.   Dead youkai on the ground. Well, remains of dead youkai. Many of them.   His head hurts. His limbs hurt. And the damn lighter won’t work. There no use shaking it like mad.   As if he wasn’t aching enough, an arm circles his shoulders and Gojyo’s (battered and) lanky body puts much of his weight on him.   « C’mon! Don’t tell me your lighter isn’t like the holy card… It doesn’t fill up on its own? »   The monk’s unlit cigarette still dangles from his lips, useless. Sanzo suddenly feels like adding a new (half-)youkai corpse on the ground. His trigger finger twitches. He thinks he needs something else to concentrate on to muffle the homicidal temptation.   Overthere, Hakkai is tending Goku’s wounds. But Hakkai can always feel the weight of a stare on his back. Green weary eyes meet his from afar, silent query. Are you hurt? Do you need me to come after you? Sanzo has a slight gesture of denial (that makes his neck hurt more). The glowing of green ki intensifies as the driver concentrates on his golden-eyed patient and resumes his healing.   Sanzo growls something and shakes the kappa’s arm off his shoulder at last.   The saru suddenly whines. He is hungry. It means Hakkai certainly did a good job.   The blond could celebrate with a cigarette if the damn lighter would work, damnit. But the pitiful silver item is still pitifully empty.   Sanzo curses again.   « Here. »   The monk’s head jerks back from sheer surprise first, at seeing the little flame so near his face. Then, slightly tilts forward to ignite his ciggie with the hanyou’s lighter.   He takes a deep breath. Nicotine runs through his body, making flow away some of the tension along with the burning feeling of the raw smoke in his throat. Pure bliss.   C’mon! Don’t tell me your lighter isn’t like the holy card… It doesn’t fill up on its own?   A lighter is not bad, he thinks in spite of himself.   oOoOoOo   The faint glow of an old lantern fights with the darkness from the stormy night that threatens to swallow their shabby tent.   Sanzo curses.   Nobody hears the quiet « ch’ » …   Looming familiar shadow above his shoulder.   « Sanzo, do you want some coffee? »   Sanzo starts.   For some minutes, the monk had got the feeling it was his own brain that buzzed. Above the rain’s rumor from outside, he has hardly heard the words.   Not that he is in the mood for listening, anyway. However, because it is such a familiar scene he hasn’t to think more of it at all, he accepts one of the mugs the driver is holding. Without a word. A kind of ritual. Hakkai always offers coffee on rainy nights.   It has broken his train of thoughts. He listens to the others, now…Their quiet babbling.   « Coffee is not good before sleeping, » the kappa says smugly from one of the sleeping bags on the ground. Hakkai lets go of a tired chuckle.   « Gojyo is scary when he speaks like Hakkai, » the monk hears the saru mutter in his corner. The white dragon (the soon-to-be car has very saru-likely eaten too much and feels drowsy), sprawled on the saru’s laps, seems to agree with a soft kyuuu.   Sanzo enjoys a few minutes of merciful albeit relative silence.   Hakuryu sneezes from time to time. Goku snores.   A little while ago Hakkai went to bed; Gojyo was already sleeping.   Sanzo turns his head and beholds the hanyou unconsciously grabbing the other one by the shoulder in his slumber. As if to reaffirm some possession over him against these nightmares which claim Hakkai during rainy nights. Like any time the former human, defeated by hours of driving, can’t even stay awake to keep them at bay.   The youkai’s cup is still put on the woodbox they sometimes use as a low table on camping. Still full. He realizes Hakkai hasn’t drunk a single drop of the coffee he has just made.   Sanzo’s attention is now locked on his own coffee mug. The porcelain is still hot. Between his numb fingers, it burns so much that he almost forgets how much his heart is frozen tonight. The strong aroma between his lips is so powerful, he almost forgets it’s raining outside.   Sanzo, do you want some coffee?   Coffee is nice, he thinks in spite of himself.   oOoOoOo   Sanzo walks. He is supposed to be looking for an inn. But he is not sure any single dwelling remains standing in the area… Almost everything has been burned down.   Another place whose name he won’t remember the day after. People whose names he’ll never know and doesn’t care to learn, anyway.   Sanzo walks, and the saru walks by his side, buried in a shocked silence. There are things the golden-eyed youkai can’t get used to.   These youkai weren’t Kougaiji’s. They almost destroyed the whole town in their soulless hate for them. The faint smell of massacrestill lingers on his priest’s robes. Sanzo can’t forget it: even the mingling smokes of tobacco and blaze aren’t enough to cover it.   Hakkai is certainly wandering somewhere, looking for the wounded ones. Gojyo is certainly not far behind, trailing him so the healer won’t end as the one needing to be helped (and trying not to feel too miserable in the same time).   The villagers look at the sanzo-monk with dead eyes. To be saved. These people look at him and want to be saved. They haven’t even any strength left to hate him, the one who brought here these beasts that made a living hell of the place by his sole presence. Sanzo can’t take it. Why don’t they just die if they can’t fight for themselves? It’s not his role to care.   Yet, the saru looks like he suddenly remembers life has to go on.   « HARAETTAAAAA! Nee, Sanzo? Can I have a nikuman? »   « Baka saru! » he shouts at the top of his smoker’s lungs. The dreaded fan is in his hand before he realizes, and the saru nursing his injured head before he can protest…   In the second, the monk catches the surprising sight of an elderly woman wearing rags. On smoking ruins, she is standing proud, though. She smiles faintly at their antics. People are beginning talking to each other again, he notes. Some of them improvising cooking fires in the streets.   Hanyou and driver appear at the corner of a half-collapsed house, the little white dragon showing them the way. Goku assaults both of them, eager to tell how much he is hungry and how mean Sanzo is…   The monk calls the saru names (Gojyo helps a little…). The monk hits the boy with the harisen (Hakkai has a smart comment about his gift for taming little animals and his wonderful wrist’s move…).   Sanzo isn’t that tense suddenly. Maybe feeling even a lot better.   He is…himself. Again.   Nee, Sanzo? Can I have a nikuman?   Harisen is indispensable, he thinks in spite of himself.   oOoOoOo   These two hopeless/mindless/brainless/merciless-of-his-nerves BAKA…   They are bickering on the backseat again. And instead of making them stop (and Sanzo knows the bastard could, if he really wanted to), Hakkai is laughing quietly behind the wheel.   There are times he thinks he’d gladly shoot the three of them. He’d be so much better on his own. But he never does.   He fires each time, but misses their heads on purpose.   He feigns thinking it’s only because lighter, coffee, and harisen are… nice. Kinda.   *BLAM*   His… servants… are cowed by the sound of the holy gun.   Well, for a mere second.   Sanzo curses.   oOo Owari oOo