(no subject)
Oct. 17th, 2006 06:48 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
envious_musesOkay, so I signed up for a couple of challenge fic comms- ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
30screams and ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-syndicated.gif)
25_streetsigns. This is the first of what will be many fics for those two comms.
Title: Innocence
Theme: #1 Bloody Knife
Fandom: Saiyuki
Character: Cho Hakkai (Gonou)
Rating: PG-13 for looooooots of implied violence
Warnings: see above, re: implied violence. also stream of consciousness should probably merit a warning by itself.
Word Count: 616
He couldn’t see, couldn’t taste or touch or smell anymore, but he could hear the screams. His vision had blurred to a smear of white light and shadow; too many days spent in the darkness of the storm, too many nights walking, and then sudden light from an open door sent things blurring out of recognition. He was happy he couldn’t see.
He could taste the rain, smell it, even though that was stupid, it wasn’t raining here. He could hear the rain over the screams, feel the drops hit his face, his hands, drench his clothes so he was dripping, but it couldn’t be raining. It didn’t, couldn’t rain inside.
But the screams, the screams he could hear, almost feel, as if they were a part of him instead of coming from outside. They rippled through him, getting dimmer and weaker as he went on.
Giving up.
He couldn’t give up, even as he met more resistance, felt it give, felt new, warm rain-
blood
-rush, drip, soak his shirt sleeves, coat his hands in red he could almost see. Sometimes he thought he might be screaming, too, or sometimes he was sure it was only the sound of his heart ripping in two, of a knife finding a bloody sheath in his chest and ripping, tearing a whole straight through.
But they had, hadn’t they? They’d taken his heart, taken it from him without his ever knowing. They had to suffer for that, both of them, both him and them. They’d taken her and he’d let her be taken. Resistance, ripping, a familiar rhythm now, repeated a dozen, hundred, thousand times. There were no innocents, no innocence anymore.
Innocence. She’d been innocent, hadn’t been their daughter, their wife, sister, lover to give away. She shouldn’t have been there at all except that wasn’t it such a nice little house, perfect for two newly weds and such a promising young man, the new teacher at the school. They’d claimed innocence, claimed they had no choice, right up until he’d gone into the house and come out with the knife she’d been using to cut vegetables. Tomatoes. A knife stained red with drying juice-
blood
-stained redder. He’d cut their tongues out for lying to him. There was no innocence.
The screaming still hadn’t stopped.
Even when he sat in a small, tidy house with its owners beside him, beside themselves, and their neighbors next to them and outside, quiet, still, he could hear them, still heard them, and now a thousand others all clamoring for attention. Attention they hadn’t wanted when he’d given it to them.
He’d picked up a sword somewhere along the way, stuck his knife with its tomato red blade into his belt, moved in ways he hadn’t known he’d remembered, hadn’t known he should remember. Muscle memory, like the memory of holding her, loving her, memories as clear as the memory of finding her gone with a red blade on the counter and red blood staining beautiful hands. He shuddered and dropped the sword when the blade grated against bone, trapped, like the expression of the one it speared. He pulled his knife as he stepped over the man-
animal
-to cover flaking stains with newer, younger, blood. Innocent blood, except that there were no innocents there. She was innocent but it wasn’t enough, so there were no innocents, could be no innocents. No innocent nights spent under the cool-
warm, red
-fall of rain, doesn’t it smell wonderful, Gonou, like the world’s all new? No glistening of water on the windows, no soft pattering covering the sounds of innocent discovery.
No innocence.
Just rain, endless rain, and red, dripping screams.
30screams and 25_streetsigns. This is the first of what will be many fics for those two comms.Title: Innocence
Theme: #1 Bloody Knife
Fandom: Saiyuki
Character: Cho Hakkai (Gonou)
Rating: PG-13 for looooooots of implied violence
Warnings: see above, re: implied violence. also stream of consciousness should probably merit a warning by itself.
Word Count: 616
He couldn’t see, couldn’t taste or touch or smell anymore, but he could hear the screams. His vision had blurred to a smear of white light and shadow; too many days spent in the darkness of the storm, too many nights walking, and then sudden light from an open door sent things blurring out of recognition. He was happy he couldn’t see.
He could taste the rain, smell it, even though that was stupid, it wasn’t raining here. He could hear the rain over the screams, feel the drops hit his face, his hands, drench his clothes so he was dripping, but it couldn’t be raining. It didn’t, couldn’t rain inside.
But the screams, the screams he could hear, almost feel, as if they were a part of him instead of coming from outside. They rippled through him, getting dimmer and weaker as he went on.
Giving up.
He couldn’t give up, even as he met more resistance, felt it give, felt new, warm rain-
blood
-rush, drip, soak his shirt sleeves, coat his hands in red he could almost see. Sometimes he thought he might be screaming, too, or sometimes he was sure it was only the sound of his heart ripping in two, of a knife finding a bloody sheath in his chest and ripping, tearing a whole straight through.
But they had, hadn’t they? They’d taken his heart, taken it from him without his ever knowing. They had to suffer for that, both of them, both him and them. They’d taken her and he’d let her be taken. Resistance, ripping, a familiar rhythm now, repeated a dozen, hundred, thousand times. There were no innocents, no innocence anymore.
Innocence. She’d been innocent, hadn’t been their daughter, their wife, sister, lover to give away. She shouldn’t have been there at all except that wasn’t it such a nice little house, perfect for two newly weds and such a promising young man, the new teacher at the school. They’d claimed innocence, claimed they had no choice, right up until he’d gone into the house and come out with the knife she’d been using to cut vegetables. Tomatoes. A knife stained red with drying juice-
blood
-stained redder. He’d cut their tongues out for lying to him. There was no innocence.
The screaming still hadn’t stopped.
Even when he sat in a small, tidy house with its owners beside him, beside themselves, and their neighbors next to them and outside, quiet, still, he could hear them, still heard them, and now a thousand others all clamoring for attention. Attention they hadn’t wanted when he’d given it to them.
He’d picked up a sword somewhere along the way, stuck his knife with its tomato red blade into his belt, moved in ways he hadn’t known he’d remembered, hadn’t known he should remember. Muscle memory, like the memory of holding her, loving her, memories as clear as the memory of finding her gone with a red blade on the counter and red blood staining beautiful hands. He shuddered and dropped the sword when the blade grated against bone, trapped, like the expression of the one it speared. He pulled his knife as he stepped over the man-
animal
-to cover flaking stains with newer, younger, blood. Innocent blood, except that there were no innocents there. She was innocent but it wasn’t enough, so there were no innocents, could be no innocents. No innocent nights spent under the cool-
warm, red
-fall of rain, doesn’t it smell wonderful, Gonou, like the world’s all new? No glistening of water on the windows, no soft pattering covering the sounds of innocent discovery.
No innocence.
Just rain, endless rain, and red, dripping screams.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-18 03:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-18 05:40 pm (UTC)Is there really any other kind of Gonou? Oh, well, I suppose you could have sappy!in-love!Gonou, but that's just not as much fun. ;D People write about Tenpou and Hakkai, but where's the love for the middle man, hm? There needs to be more Gonou love.
Did you follow the link from the Saiyuki comm or 30screams, if I may be so bold as to ask?
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-18 06:46 pm (UTC)I got here through the Saiyuki comm. :)
(no subject)
Date: 2006-10-19 02:24 am (UTC)