Written: April 29, 2004

Warning: Some words I don't think younger people would want to read. Theme's a little angsty/darkish. As for for shounen-ai, well, it can be taken in both ways. I am however an avid 39 fan, so there could be hints I can't spot that other homophobes might.

Disclaimer: Saiyuki is (c)Kazuya Minekura, Enix Co., Tv Tokyo, etc. I do not claim to own any of these characters, though the views expressed within my story are my own.

A/N: A doodle resulted in this one-shot piece. Goku thinks of Sanzo. Call it an extended metaphor, I suppose. Exactly 400 words.

The Sun At Sunrise

I always said he was like the sun shining in the sky. They never noticed that I didn't explain which sun.

Oh yes, there is more than one kind. I would know - observing that golden orb has always been a pastime for me. In a way, it was an obsession. In a way, it was something I was forced to do, to look up and think of Him.

They always took it for granted that when I said He was like the sun, I meant the warm, beautiful one. Well, the sun is always beautiful, but it is not necessarily warm. It is not necessarily a blessing. It is not necessarily something you love. They just thought that that was the sun I was talking about.

The sun He reminded me of was the cold one that rose at sunrise, drifting out of my reach 'til it was far away in the distant sky; laughing at me while I was stuck down here...forever...

He was the sun that rose at dawn, and exposed my misery to the world. He was the one that woke me up every morning when I was stuck in that cave, mocking my imprisonment while He was free to dance in the wind.

You may ask how I could say that, when He saved me from that cave. Let me tell you, I think I'd have rather stayed in that cave, blissfully ignorant, than have to stay here with him. I am too close to Him here. If I am forced to search for him in the skies, I should at least be able to avoid being burned. In my cave, I was safe from his light.

I've always had an obsession with the sun. I was always the one to look straight up at Him, eager to see the first ray of light touch the dark Earth, only to be blinded for my foolishness.

Some see the sunrise as the dawn of hope. I see it as the end of concealment. I see it as a sudden nakedness, an uncovering.

And what's worse is that He then looks down at you from his blue, lofty porch and smirks at you. He enjoys seeing you scramble for cover, and sends His rays to slash at you even more.

They say he's kind, they say he's cruel; he's neither.

He is just the sun at sunrise.