Sanzo lay in the dark, eyes open.

He resettled his head on the inadequate pillow, trying to get comfortable and failing completely. The day had been rough, with ragged roads jolting under the Jeep's wheels and torrential rain in the late afternoon. A small town had presented itself in the desolate landscape, and after a (barely, in Sanzo's opinion) passable meal and hot baths all around, they had retired to their room and collapsed. The mattress was thin, but at least there were four beds, even though they were all in the same room.

Going over the past day's events in his mind, Sanzo noted with a kind of grim relief that at least there had been no youkai in their path today. He had been growing increasingly concerned (although he would never admit it to the others) as time continued to pass, and their progress west was proving achingly slow--far slower than he'd ever imagined it could be. There had been delays and setbacks, sidetrackings and wrong paths taken, over and over again.

And they were seemingly no closer to reaching the west--no closer to finding Gyumaoh, no closer to finding who was trying to resurrect him--and thus no closer to the supposed location of the sacred scroll that had been taken from Koumyou so many years past.

Will we ever find it?

Sanzo was beginning to wonder if they ever would. He glanced at his own kyoumon, carefully rolled up and resting on a small table close by. He heard his companions snoring (or at least Gojyo and Goku--Hakkai was polite enough to sleep with his mouth closed). He heard his own breathing in the darkness.

Sleep finally came, and with it, a dream.

Sanzo found himself standing--or not standing, as there seemed to be nothing for him to stand on--in a dark place. The blackness was absolute; there was no source of light to be seen anywhere. Sanzo could not tell if he was indoors or outside, on earth or in the heavens, alive or dead. He wanted a cigarette, if only to see the illumination of a flame, however small.

A faint smudge of brightness bubbled out of the dark, hurting Sanzo's eyes momentarily; it grew brighter and coalesced into a column nearing his own height, seemingly a short distance away. The light was composed of different colors, both intense and pale, that shifted and constantly changed, fluxed and shimmered like an image seen through water.

Sanzo tried to squint, tried to make out what this was that was confronting him. Before too long it seemed as if he was, in fact, looking at another person, although he couldn't say what they looked like, their gender, shape or size, as the image continued to change and shift, as if deciding what form to take.

After what may have been ages, Sanzo decided the figure was definitely female, although again it was as if he was looking at several different people in rapid, dizzying succession. A young peasant woman in plain clothing; a beauty in regal raiment with a shimmering crown like a delicate golden bird resting on her head; a hugely pregnant woman with skin dark as ebony, laughing and holding a toddler who tugged on her necklace of white shells. A young girl with a fistful of common flowering weeds, extending the bouquet toward Sanzo with a sweet smile, and an elderly woman, frail and wrinkled with years, whose rippling white hair flowed nearly to the ground and who wore an expression that let Sanzo know he would definitely be on the losing end of an argument with her.

Finally, the multicolored light solidified into the image of a woman roughly Sanzo's age, rather short, in a simple gown of pleated white fabric. Sanzo supposed she was beautiful, although he chose not to acknowledge such things most of the time. Her hair was a mass of curls, although it was impossible to say of what color; now they were silver, now gold, now black, now fiery red. There was a chain of jewels around her neck and wound around her waist; delicate sandals graced her feet. A simple golden circlet showed at her forehead.

She opened her eyes, looked appraisingly at Sanzo, and gave him a slight smile. "You don't know who I am, do you?" She sounded younger than she looked.

Sanzo was annoyed, as he so often was. "Of course not. Should I?"

She lifted her chin confidently, ignored his question. "Have you forgotten what you set out to do?"

"Of course I haven't," Sanzo snapped. "It's just--there have been some delays."

"Why?" She was direct; he had to give her that.

"Unavoidable." If I could ditch the monkey and the kappa and Hakkai, well, maybe there wouldn't be so many delays, but I'm stuck with them. Unavoidable.

The young woman seemed to consider something for a moment; Sanzo became aware of the sound of rushing water, as if there were a brook nearby, and something that sounded very much like the tinkling of chimes somewhere nearby, like a string of small bells hung from the eaves of a temple for the breeze to play with. "Genjo Sanzo--do you ever feel alone?"

He folded his arms across his chest. "How can I, with those three always with me?"

"That's not what I meant," she said, with a faint trace of impatience. "Let me put it this way: do you ever feel lonely?"

Sanzo snorted, allowed a moment to pass. "No."

"Never?"

"No."

All in the time it takes to blink, the woman's eyes widened with what looked like anger, she inhaled sharply--and suddenly her hair reared like angry snakes. A whiplike strand shot out and ensnared Sanzo, slithering around him with frightening speed and wrapping his arms tightly to his body. Simultaneously, she seemed to become much larger, or Sanzo much smaller, or both, for suddenly he was pulled forward by the tendrils of her hair and held up before her now-angry face, which seemed to fill the sky.

Sanzo began to suspect this may not be an ordinary dream. He had heard tales of a fearsome goddess from the far reaches of the west; she was said to be very powerful, dark as night and with a terrible, warlike beauty. Her followers were said to go on killing rampages, slaughtering everything in their path in her name; and their goddess was said to dance on the corpses of the vanquished, lapping their blood as it flowed and wearing a necklace of human skulls. Sanzo wondered if he might be looking at that goddess now.

But maybe not; she was also said to have multiple arms, and this woman, goddess, whatever, only had the usual number of limbs. There was also no necklace of skulls.

Her lovely eyes were, however, like thunderclouds, dark and roiling, and her voice was strong and commanding, surrounding him and enveloping him. "You're lying."

Sanzo drew a slightly shaky breath--fought to hold back his deepest mind's fear reaction, and mostly succeeded--and raised his eyebrows at her.

Her eyes changed color again; the skies calmed, the thunder faded. "You don't realize this, but I've known you for a long time. I've been with you for years. And I know you're lying."

Sanzo blinked. "...Years? I don't even know who you--"

"Silence," she grated, and Sanzo figured it would be best to comply. The silken cord that held him before her tightened ever so slightly; Sanzo found himself gasping slightly, willed himself to relax.

Her voice grew almost gentle, as if she were explaining something very important to a stubborn child. "I...am not as you see me here. It is not possible for me to...speak with you as I truly am. But you know me, and I know you. And I know you feel lonely sometimes."

Sanzo averted his eyes, tried to shrug; found that he couldn't.

Her voice grew more intense, making the bones in Sanzo's head vibrate, almost as if he were standing within her heart while she spoke, or as if her voice was a waterfall and he was standing beneath it.

"You know what it feels like when someone who's always been there for you is suddenly no longer there. When you realize that, where before you could always turn your head and they were at your side, now you will see only your own shadow. Where they were always at the edge of your vision, now there is nothing.

"When you realize that, in spite of everything you've ever told yourself, they made you feel complete. And now they are gone."

Something in Sanzo's chest twisted, lurched to one side; the sudden, unbidden thought of Koumyou came to him. He brusquely thrust the thought away, tried to breathe. His vision went blurry for a moment.

He couldn't deny that she was right; he knew that feeling, knew it all too well, even if he would never admit it to anyone--and would barely admit it to himself.

The woman's voice was almost soft now. "I am not from the same place you are. We are from somewhere far beyond your knowledge. My mate and I were sent to your world long ago by our wise elders, who saw that you needed help."

Sanzo frowned. "...Me?"

Her eyes grew stormy again. "You really are selfish. No, not you yourself. People. Humans." She spat the words as if she found them distasteful. Sanzo felt a little dizzy, said nothing.

She continued, her voice low and trembling very slightly. "My mate...is gone. He was taken from me...and his keeper was taken, too. Taken from you."

Sanzo's eyes widened as he began to piece this puzzle together. The dizziness increased. "Koumyou..." he said involuntarily. Sanzo could see it all again--the spreading pool of blood, the brutally hacked-off limbs, Koumyou's eyes, once so wise and kind, now blank, now wide open and empty of anything and everything.

And the kyoumon had been missing.

One to dispell the darkness, one to bring forth the light. A matched pair. Sanzo's heart thudded.

The woman smiled. "Ah. You do know who I am."

Sanzo felt drained and weak, out of breath as if he had been running or climbing a mountain for a long time without a rest; and if it were possible for him to feel the faintest twinge of shame, he might have felt that way too. "What do I do?"

Things shifted, shimmered, the light and colors erupting like raindrops. In a heartbeat, she and Sanzo were the same size once more. She seemed far less terrifying now; she seemed almost vulnerable, almost ordinary.

"Just don't forget your original purpose. I have helped you in the past, and I will continue to do so. I merely ask that you help me also."

Sanzo nodded, not trusting his voice.

"Don't forget that you're not the only one who has a personal stake in this."

There was the sound of the wings of a thousand doves, and Sanzo felt himself falling.

********

Kanzeon-bosatsu sat in a gilded chair at the edge of the lily pond, seemingly drowsing in the warm sunlight. Ripples faded at the edges of the pond; the lilies slowly ceased their dancing.

Jiroshin bustled up to attend: "You called, O Exalted One?"

Kanzeon opened one eye and looked at him. "No, I didn't. Why?"

Jiroshin became flustered--not an uncommon state of being for him. "I'm very sorry--I thought I heard your voice--"

Kanzeon shifted in the gilded chair (I need to get a better cushion for this damn thing) and stared out at the now-quiet surface of the pond. "That wasn't me you heard."

Jiroshin blinked; oh, Kanzeon-bosatsu could be so very confusing to serve sometimes. "...Who was it?" he asked, thinking to himself that he sounded stupid.

Kanzeon's eyes closed again. "A friend. An associate from long, long ago." And Kanzeon smiled beatifically, leaving Jiroshin even more confused than he had been a moment before, if that was possible.

********

And Sanzo awoke in the still darkness, feeling as if his consciousness had been thrown back into his body from a great height; his heart was galloping in his chest like a herd of horses fleeing a pack of wolves. Sweat rimed his face; he wiped it away with an unsteady hand.

The moon had risen; its silver light knifed through the window and fell almost gently on the rolled-up kyoumon, creating a pool of unearthly luminescence around it.

Sanzo stared at the kyoumon. Now he realized--it seemed to stare back.

Sanzo lay in the dark, eyes open.

This page was created August 29, 2004. Last updated September 17, 2007.