June 24, 2004

Hey again, everyone. The summer's going so quickly. I've got plenty of time to write, though, and here's another result of that. This is another of my attempts to write a story that actually involves a plot. Heh heh. I love PWP and fluff to death, and I still write and read it, but as a fairly serious writer I'm sort of raising the bar on my work. Thus, this little number. I hope you find it worth your time. Enjoy.

Many thanks to AliasOfWestgate for the beta-read. I really, truly appreciate it.

Note: Story is based around the events of Saiyuki Requiem (the movie). Possible mild spoilers, but nothing I can see that would ruin the movie for you. Also, I made minor clarifications to the ending. Thanks to p3c for the heads-up, and to everyone else who took the time to comment. I hope no one minds that I changed it.

Standard disclaimer applies, yada yada....and... the story is ... down there, a few lines below this one. Go read!

Kami Hikouki (Paper Airplane)
By Pervasive Threnody

It wasn't every rainfall that unnerved Sanzo, making him balance on edge and causing him to jump at shadows. Just some. Usually, the rain falling after a poor night's rest was the worst. On those mornings he would wake up, hear the rain hammering on the roof, and try to go back to sleep. When loss of consciousness eluded him as it always did, he would toss back the sheets of his bed, dress, and spend the rest of the day in a fit.

Those were the worst days. Other times, however, the rain didn't seem so bad. Today, when Sanzo had awakened, the rain had merely set him in contemplative, nostalgic mood. Thus it was that he sat at his table, first cigarette of the day in hand, and listened thoughtfully to the lull of the white noise tapping a syncopated cadence on the roof. In fact, so absorbed was Sanzo in his thoughts that when a faint rap sounded at the door, he'd not heard it. Instead, it was the voice behind the knock that had alerted him to another's presence.

"I've brought you tea, Sanzo-sama," chimed a familiar voice from behind the door. Sanzo looked up and watched silently as Dougan entered the room, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. "I hope it's to your liking." He set the tray on the table and backed away a step, looking hopeful.

"Sure," Sanzo answered, not really looking at him. Dougan bowed and retreated, leaving the monk alone again with his thoughts.

A year or so had passed since a boy named Go Dougan had been brought to Sanzo's attention. The youth was newly removed from his peers, the monk who introduced them had explained, because he could not get along with them. It looked true enough; upon closer inspection, Sanzo could see the boy's face was marked with bruises, not all of them fresh.

Though it was generally expected that the highest of monks look after a ward, the current Sanzo had never wanted one, much less a pupil. But when he'd had that first look at Dougan's bruised face, at his affable smile, Sanzo had felt an unaccustomed pity for the boy. Thinking of what his own master would have said if he'd refused, Sanzo knew he'd had no choice. At any rate, the boy would most likely get along well on his own, he reasoned, and he obviously had nowhere else to go. The matter had been settled without ceremony, and Dougan's presence quickly became a regular fixture in Sanzo's life.

Not long after, however, Sanzo had found himself wondering what he'd gotten himself into. While he'd not bothered to pay much attention to Dougan, it was obvious the boy had no intention of returning the favor. It seemed he was at Sanzo's side nearly every moment, asking him questions, imparting favors Sanzo had not asked for. Simple things he could do himself, but chores Dougan seemed all too happy to task himself with. It was like he'd made himself a... servant, in a manner of speaking.

Dropping his long-extinguished cigarette, Sanzo got up and strode to his large desk. He rummaged in a low, crowded drawer, worrying his lip in concentration. Fortunately, the object of his search, buried under some documents, was fairly easy to spot. He retrieved it and left his room, shutting the door behind him.

The pot of tea remained untouched.

- - - - -

"Master? What are you doing, skipping lecture?"

Kouryuu was pleasantly surprised to meet his mentor here, outside. It was the senior monks' hour of study, and though Koumyou Sanzo was supposed to be teaching them, here he was, sitting just outside the door. His eyes were turned toward the clear blue sky as if he had not a care in the world.

"I'm making paper airplanes," Koumyou answered, and it was then Kouryuu noticed the small pile of orange origami paper. Still clutching his broom, he blinked in surprise. "I've little in the way of teachings worth imparting to others," Koumyou continued. "About all I know is how to fold paper airplanes." He indicated the orange airplane resting in his gloved hand. Kouryuu studied it, watching with interest as Koumyou thrust the hand forward, launching the airplane into the air.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Koumyou followed its path across the sky, smiling softly. "The blue sky highlights the orange, and the orange makes the blue look even more beautiful. They enhance each other's distinctive qualities, because they're opposites in color." The plane dropped from the sky almost imperceptibly, and Koumyou reached for another sheet of paper with a little sigh.

"Well, it's a trifling thing, really..."

"Not at all," Kouryuu responded, still gazing at the paper airplane as it descended to earth and landed silently in the courtyard. "It's beautiful..."

- - - - -

"Um... Sanzo-sama?"

A quiet, unassuming voice unseated Sanzo from his reverie. He returned to the present, to his place in the window, and shifted his eyes to the falling rain outside briefly before turning his attention to the one who had called his name.

"How extraordinary," Dougan was saying. He gazed around at the spots of orange littering the floor, eyes alight. "Sanzo-sama knows the art of folding paper."

Looking thoughtfully at him, Sanzo fingered the orange airplane in his hand. "This one?" he said cryptically, letting it go. "It can only fly in a blue sky."

"A blue sky?" Dougan watched the airplane flutter to a halt, coming to rest not far from where it had been launched. He picked it up and dusted it carefully, his eyes intent. "May I have this?"

The rain was beginning to let up. Sanzo grunted noncommittally and slipped from his window perch, sandaled feet brushing softly against the wooden floor. "Do as you wish."

"Thank you very much," Dougan called out, bowing to Sanzo's retreating form. Sanzo could feel the young man's eyes on his back as he strode away.

- - - - -

With the rainy weather incarcerating all but the most adventurous souls, the temple corridors were more crowded than usual. Many of the monks who usually spent their days tending to the temple grounds were now cooped up in doorways, lurking near windows, and generally making noise. Striding past a group of chattering acolytes, Sanzo felt a surge of irritation at how utterly useless the rotten weather made the lot of them.

"Don't you have anything better to do?" he snapped, shaking his head in annoyance as the young boys scattered.

"We're sorry!" the youths called over their shoulders as they dashed away. A few of the careless souls, eager to flee, smashed into the legs of other monks walking by. Sanzo sighed, closed his eyes briefly, and moved on. Inclement weather was undesirable for more reasons than one, he thought to himself sourly. And he'd really not been in such a bad mood upon awakening that morning...

It was about to get worse. Just as Sanzo was turning down the hallway that lead to his room, a small, compact missile impacted the back of his own legs and sent him stumbling forward. With a loud curse, he turned around to confront his offender.

"Sorry!" the attack missile yelped, beaming when he saw the person with whom he'd collided. "I didn't see you there, Sanzo!"

Sanzo's eye twitched. "Goku," he uttered, his voice soft and dangerous, "Why are you dripping with mud?"

"Am I?" Goku blinked, looked down at his once-red shirt, and grinned even wider. "Sorry, Sanzo! But the puddles are HUGE outside, and I HAD to jump in them. You should SEE them! They're, like, miles wide-OW!" He rubbed his head where Sanzo had hit him. "That hurt, Sanzo..."

"Then stop making messes," Sanzo growled, putting his fan away and looking around with distaste. "Look at how much you've tracked in!" Indeed, large footprints and blobs of mud had followed Goku through the halls. A group of random monks were stepping around the mess, faces wrinkled with distaste. The culprit of the mess watched them, then shrugged and grinned impishly.

"It'll give them a mess to clean up!" he said with a high-pitched laugh, apparently thinking himself to be helpful.

"Like hell it will." Sanzo could hear the pounding of loud footsteps and angry shouts approaching them. "You'll clean it up yourself, and without complaining."

"But, Sanzo," Goku whined, his laughter dying as the monks in pursuit of him finally caught up. All of them looked positively furious. "They're mean!"

"Then stop giving them reasons to be angry," Sanzo answered coldly. "Go shower and clean up your mess."

"But they'll always be mean--Oh, fine." Looking pained, Goku relented, following the irate monks with his head drooping. Sanzo watched them go; then, willing his anger to deflate, he continued toward his room.

Goku... another ward in his life, and Dougan's successor of sorts. Sanzo could see his future if this continued: he would be running some kind of foster-care service, with new orphans being brought every day to serve the great Sanzo-sama, and all of them would be vying for his attention. The thought made him shudder, and he quickly ejected it from his mind.

Still, doubt remained. Feeling pensive, eager for solitude, Sanzo carefully avoided the blobs of mud scattered on the ground and walls and crossed the threshold into his room. He shut and locked the door, wards be damned.

A tray of food and a pot of tea, identical to the one still resting unused on the table, now awaited his consumption. Beside the teapot rested two bowls, two cups, and two sets of chopsticks. Sanzo ignored the extra set of dinnerware and looked the food over critically: a bowl of rice, a few strips of beef (most certainly a Genjo Sanzo special), and some vegetables. He ate the meal without tasting it, choosing to contemplate his situation instead.

It was unexpected, the voice that had entered his mind one day and settled in, acting as if it belonged there. In the midst of his supreme irritation at the nuisance, Sanzo had counted it beyond impossible and beyond his luck that he would have been remotely capable of finding the voice's owner. But find it he had. Son Goku, an odd little being with even stranger golden eyes. A heretic, supposedly. A pick-up, just like Sanzo himself, and like Dougan.

It was strange. Goku had taken to Sanzo instantly, just as Dougan had. Both were equally irritating in Sanzo's eyes; both were shunned to completion by their peers. Aside from that, they had so little in common it was almost a joke to watch them interact. The contact was rare, as Dougan seemed to harbor a dislike of Goku and avoided him whenever possible. Still, when it happened, it was comical to watch Goku run obnoxious circles around Sanzo's so-called pupil, the sort of person who preferred books over tree-climbing and who never seemed to understand why Goku was still living at the temple, much less existing.

But even so, even after all this time, Sanzo couldn't seem to put a finger on what made them so different.....

Or could he? Sanzo's eyes rested on the table, where Dougan's pot of tea lay abandoned. Slowly, his mind began to turn, and an idea fueled by the day's incidents took shape. After another trip to his desk, Sanzo left the room, his steps full of purpose.

- - - - -

The rain had finally stopped. The early evening sky was a calm blue, nearly free of clouds, and the air was cool and still as if atmospheric humidity and torrents of water had never disturbed it. Monks and acolytes, relieved at the change in weather, were now wandering the grounds freely. While none of them seemed to be doing any work, Sanzo had a feeling the Abbott, who was in charge of tasking people to their duties, was probably doing just what they were: absolutely nothing.

That would change soon, of course. In the meanwhile, feeling relaxed for the first time that day, Sanzo settled himself on the veranda with his cigarettes. Next to the box of Marlboros lay a stack of orange paper. He lit up, then took up a piece and studied it. Several minutes later, the ground was scattered with paper airplanes, none of which had gotten very far, and Sanzo's cigarette was burning low.

The sound of a familiar laugh floated to Sanzo's ears. He lifted his head to see Goku dashing about the other end of the courtyard, chasing a butterfly. He was clean now; and, as he was roaming about outside, he had apparently satisfied the monks' demands to return order to the temple corridors. As Sanzo watched, Goku caught the butterfly on his hand and stared at it in rapt fascination, his golden eyes gleaming across the distance.

"Goku," Sanzo called; the boy's sharp ears caught the sound and he looked up at the sound of his name. "Come here." Goku stared at the butterfly a few moments more. When it flew away, he dashed toward Sanzo at an unholy speed, finally skidding to a stop just in front of the monk and his pile of airplanes. Mud still left from the rain splattered onto the boy's once-spotless jeans, and Sanzo repressed an angry sigh.

"You're muddy again." Sanzo crushed his spent cigarette with his sandal. Goku looked sheepish, but merely shrugged and said, "I didn't track it inside."

Sanzo let the infraction pass. An airplane lay just at his feet, and he focused his attention on it instead.

"Here." Picking the up the neatly folded paper, Sanzo examined it for a moment before launching it into the sky. "What do you think?"

"...Huh?" Goku looked up from crouching near the ground, where he was studying a large green bug. "What, Sanzo?"

Sanzo studied him for a moment. He folded another airplane and sent it flying. Goku watched it go, head tilted to the side, then turned to look at Sanzo again.

"Pretty," he said simply, his eyes wandering. "Can I go now?" When Sanzo nodded assent the boy dashed away, laughing at some inane joke he'd made up and completely ignorant of what had happened. It hadn't solved anything, Sanzo thought ruefully, watching him go. He should have known better. All Goku had done was...

Oh.

Looking at the paper in his hand, it suddenly occured to Sanzo: maybe the airplanes his mentor had loved to throw were meant to be more than entertainment. Was there a lesson to be learned, he wondered? He creased his brow in deep thought. If so, then Dougan, in his blind servitude of Sanzo, probably had no hope of finding the answer. The answer Sanzo himself had overlooked entirely as he'd devoted his life to the one he'd called master. But Goku...

Goku, of all the people to be fascinated by flying paper, had failed to become truly attached. To it, or to anyone. He'd passed a test he hadn't even known he was taking; and knowing him, would remain clueless about it forever. How ironic. Koumyou Sanzo would have probably just laughed.

"Kouryuu," Sanzo could hear him say, smiling patiently, "They're just airplanes."

But the voice in his ears wasn't his old master. Sanzo looked up to the sight of Goku romping at the courtyard's edge not far from where he'd caught the butterfly. The boy was climbing a large tree, still laughing to himself as he shimmied up the trunk. As Sanzo watched Goku stopped, clung to a branch, and drew a deep breath. The sun caught the gold of his coronet as he gazed out to the horizon, his eyes shining, and Sanzo let himself stare for just a moment before he looked away.

Taking up another cigarette and piece of paper, Sanzo lit one and folded the other. When the airplane was complete he drew his hand back, eyed his masterpiece briefly, and let go.

He'd never seen one fly quite so high.

Owari

- - - - -

There you have it. My first Requiem fic. I actually have a large amount of ideas centered on that movie. Of course, except for this one, I've never gotten off my arse and written them... Oh, well. I'm working on my motivation.

Plug: I also have a chapter fic in revision phase, in case anyone wants to know. It's already written! No worries about the author suddenly having writer's block!! Jump for joy, everyone! (Crickets chirp)

Anyway. Thank you, as always, for reading.