|Sanzo-ikkou, Outside the Konran Tower
||[Oct. 4th, 2004|12:29 am]
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Hakkai brought the pseudo-jeep to a grinding halt over the rubble that littered the bottom of the gorge, and Sanzo stared through the desolate, dead hills at the tower that rose up between them.
Architecture like this was rare in the east; despite the attachment most people had to the old ways, the east was modern, in a sense, and old buildings like these would have been torn down and replaced with smaller, cleaner-cut apartments or businesses in an instant. With the sharply upturned eaves at every level, each feng shui master in the city of Chang’An would have thrown up a fuss about ‘poison arrows’ and demanded it demolished at once.
In truth, it had probably been built with that in mind – this was certainly no friendly place, not now and not when it was built. It climbed up from the crumbled mountains like some kind of half-dead skeleton of a plant, all dark wood and sharp spines that warded off any unwanted visitors. In fact, it had a very prominent kind of phallic imagery to it that most structures of its age and style had – and the priest could already hear the comments Gojyo would likely make.
In short, it was pretty damn ugly.
Overall, though, Sanzo didn’t really give a fuck what the tower looked like. It could have been a hovel or a cave to the bowels of the earth for all he cared; all that mattered to him was the artifact stolen from him that was waiting within. The Maten sutra was his responsibility, damnit, whether he had faith in the gods that made it or not, and like hell was he going to just let it be taken from him like that.
The priest scowled at the building that cast its shadow over the rocky landscape, crossing his arms over his chest. Even in the shadows of the mountains it was hot, and he was glad he had chosen to peel back the upper half of his robes. He had only the vaguest ideas of why Homura would have bothered toying with them as long as he did before finally taking the scripture – there was no doubt that Goku’s skills had improved greatly since the god had first made his appearance, and for some reason Homura thought he could make use of that strength. Sanzo still didn’t understand why, or how, but it pissed him off something awful. To be lead around by the nose and played with.
His chest ached in the memory of how easily Homura had taken the sutra once he decided to quit playing around, but he shoved the pain aside and ignored it. Hakkai had done an excellent job in healing – as always – but the pain and fatigue stayed all the same. Healed or not, the wound throbbed in time with his heartbeat, made all the muscles in his torso stiff when they should have been limber. That was the way all chi-healed wounds seemed to be, or at least they were for him. The wound might be gone, but the body remembered.
Sanzo bit the inside of his lip and considered the sharp contours of the Konran Tower. They had been woefully under-prepared to deal with Homura and his flunkies previously; the likelihood that they would do any better now was... well, the odds were not in their favor. If they could find a way to separate the gods and gang up on them individually, then there was a higher probable level of success. Four to one against a god was better odds in his book, even if he did know this whole mess was nothing more than a trap.
And they were going to walk right into it. Like a bunch of idiots.
He needed to get his hands on the Maten sutra again, and quickly. It might not have much effect on the other two gods (since it hadn’t done a thing to Homura), but it would probably do him better than the shoreijyuu...