A/N: This is one of the fics that has, up until now, resided on my LiveJournal account. I was going to post them here at some point, so this morning I got up and thought, oh, what the hell! Lina's gonna post something on the PIT! So here I am, and here you are.

Warnings: Hinted character death, blood.

Disclaimer: I know it, you know it, and Kazuya Minekura-sama knows it too.

The End of the Sanzo Party

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Such a familiar sound...

Drip... Drip... Drip...

But what does it mean?

Drip... Drip... Drip...

It was not raining, he knew that for sure. He could always tell when it was raining outside, even if he was asleep at that moment.

Drip... Drip... Drip...

Then what was this sound?

Drip. Splat. Drip. Splat. Drip. Splat. Splat.

Oh, that's right... They had fought youkai again. But this time there had been more, so much more... A black horde, if he wanted to be precise. Not that it mattered right now. He had to get up, to see where the others were, if they were alive at all.

Drip... Splat. Splat. Drip... Splat.

It was so unfortunate that they had been attacked in such a disadvantageous place for their party. Pity it had not been the same for their enemies. This time they had been cornered in a funnel-shaped passage among the mountains, and their opponents had used their height advantage to the fullest, running down the slopes not man by man, but a battalion by battalion, squadrons blocking their way forwards, and archers – their way back.

Drip... Splat. Splat. Splat.

But the battle must be over now, he assumed. The only sound in his ears was wind howling around the boulders and that strange sound that he still could not place.

Splat. Drip... Splat. Splat. Splat.

He needed to get up. He had to see what had become of the rest of the group. Had to check if anyone of them was still to be saved or were they all dead. He had to, but could not...

Splat. Splat. Splat.

Too many "had to"'s, too many "need to"'s, and not a single person to tell him what had happened. For a moment, he could not place his own name, and decided that, if he could not remember, then it did not matter. Most likely he would not need a name where he was going now.

Splat. Splat. Splat.

The sense of sight was slowly returning to him, even if it was still hazy. Slowly, very slowly the picture in front of him cleared. It turned out that he was not lying on the ground. There was something underneath him.

Splat. Splat. Splat.

A body. It was a body. He was lying on top of someone, obviously – dead. And there was blood. A large pool of blood that continued spreading right in front of his eyes.

So red...

And golden.

There were strands of golden weaved in the field of offensive red.

Splat. Splat. Splat.

He wondered now. Had he tried to protect him and failed, or had he just gotten in his way and gotten shot just like the monk had threatened so many times?

The pool of blood gave no answers to him.

He supposed it did not matter anymore. His vision was blurring once again, and the brief flicker of consciousness was fading away.

And before giving way to darkness in his mind, he wondered, Is this really the end of the legendary Sanzo party?


Squadron -- a small unit or formation of cavalry. (Roughly 60-250 men)

Battalion is a military unit usually consisting of between two and six companies and typically commanded by a Lieutenant Colonel. (Roughly 300-1000 men)

(info: wikipedia dot org)