Saiyuki: Five Incarnations That Never Happened, Part II: Autumn Gold
Author's note: Technically this is not, or not necessarily, an incarnation that never happened, but an early incarnation, closer to Gaiden time than Saiyuki time. However, looking over the story, I see that there is no solid textual evidence for it being an early incarnation rather than a really alternate one, so interpret it as you like. I do picture the characters as looking more like their Gaiden incarnations than their Saiyuki ones, though. Except with military haircuts.
Also, there's no sex in this one, either. Sorry.
I know what fear is.
It’s not fighting for your life. That’s not scary, that’s fun. Everything’s crystal-clear. You see-no, you know what your enemy’s going to do, so as he starts to swing high, you drop low and thrust. Don’t let the blood blind you. Pull out, duck to the side, move on. You don’t feel pain. Your breath burns in your throat like a shot of hard liquor. There’s no time to think, just to know and do. You stop to think- that is to say, you fuck up- you die. That’s why it makes you feel so alive.
The captain says battle is moving meditation. When we’re not fighting, he likes to practice his forms by himself and spar with me. I like to go fishing and climb high places. We both like to drink and fuck. He says those are all types of moving meditation. Well, maybe not drinking. But they all give you that strong pure feeling that’s the opposite of boredom, and the opposite of fear.
Some soldiers don’t like waiting for battles. They don’t mind once the fighting starts, but the waiting scares them. I just get bored. That’s why I always bring a pack of cards, and he always brings a book or three. I used to think I was afraid of boredom, but that was when I didn’t know what fear was.
Fear is the end of the battle and you can’t find your captain.
He wasn’t there when we re-assembled. He wasn’t in the tent with the wounded. And no one took any prisoners.
Fear is turning over every face-down body in case it’s him, and every face-up one in case he’s underneath. I should have been methodical, started at one end and gone up and down till I’d crossed the whole field, like a farmer in a rice paddy. But I ran back and forth and everywhere, looking in the same place three times, till I finally realized he wasn’t on the field. He must have stumbled off it, like people do when they can’t fight any more and don’t want to get trampled.
It was like I’d been wearing blinders. Once I thought to look for it, I saw the trail right away.
He was lying under a ginkgo tree, not sprawled like a corpse or curled up in pain, just lying there relaxed like he’d gone outside to read on a sunny afternoon. For a second I was convinced that he’d gotten bored with the battle and wandered off to take a nap. I had it all ready, what I’d say to him for scaring the shit out of me.
And then I got to his side, and his eyes were open and his glasses were on, but the blood was just everywhere.
“You stupid fuck!” I blurted out, which was the first part of what I’d been planning to say. “Why didn’t you even try to stop the bleeding?”
He gave me that look, like I was being a dumb-ass. “I did.”
I saw then that he’d knotted someone else’s shirt around his chest, but it was so completely soaked through that I hadn’t even seen that it was there.
Fuck.
“Sorry,” I said. “Guess I’m the one that needs glasses.”
I leaned over to slide my arms under his back, and he took that opportunity to grab my hand. His grip was strong, but cold as a blade.
“I’m not going.”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to walk, I’ll carry you. ”
“I said no. Lieutenant.” His breathing was ragged and shallow, but the command voice still worked. “I am not… going to die… upside-down over your shoulder.”
“That wasn’t how…”
I was close enough to see my own face reflected in his eyes, shining bright behind the smudged lenses. Then I sat back up, and for a moment he still looked to me as if he ought to have a book in one hand and a cup of sake in the other, telling me trivia about strategists I’d never heard of. And then I blinked and cleared my eyes, and his face was the color of snow over ashes, and every breath sounded like paper crumpling. And there was all that blood.
I opened my mouth to tell him he was wrong, that he had to hang on, that I wouldn’t let him go and I was taking him back whether he liked it or not. But I owed it to him not to be an annoying asshole, just for this once.
I was kneeling already, but I shifted my position to make it formal. “It’s been my very great honor and pleasure to serve under you, captain.” Then, dropping the respect language, I added, “And I mean that in every sense of those words.” I didn’t want to interfere with his breathing, so I just pressed my lips to his forehead.
He was smiling when I straightened up. “Mine too. I’ll try… not to go too far… without you.”
A gust of wind knocked a flurry of leaves off the ginkgo tree. They came spiraling down, a hundred tiny fans of old gold, and the captain’s gaze drifted away from me to watch them fall. “Nothing like autumn.”
“Spring is better,” I said automatically. “Sake and cherry blossoms, the weather’s nicer and the women dress all…” That was when it hit me: this was the last time we were ever going to argue over the seasons, or anything else. I choked.
“Lieutenant!” It was the command voice again. My head jerked back. “You are not… to hurry… to meet me.”
I couldn’t speak just then, and anyway I wasn’t going to tell him any lies. “I won’t,” I said at last. “I promise.”
“Good.” He lifted his hand to his face, forgetting, like he always did, that he was wearing glasses. Blood smeared all over the right lens.
“I’ll get that.” I lifted them off his face and hunted for something to polish them with that wasn’t covered in mud or blood or sweat. I had to tear out some of the lining of my vest, but they sparkled when I was through.
When I went to put them on, his eyes were wide and black, and there wasn’t anyone behind them any more.
I cleaned his face before I put his glasses on, and did my best with his hands and hair. I didn’t bother brushing off the leaves that had fallen on to his chest and stuck; he’d have liked that. Then I picked him up and headed back to camp.
When I thought of what would happen when I walked in- exclamations, medics rushing up in case he was still alive, questions about what had happened (I realized then that I had no fucking idea), stories about what a great guy he was, probably even some dumb motherfuckers telling me they were sorry- I wanted to jump in the river instead. But I had promised not to hurry.
You better keep your promise, captain, and wait for me.
Also, there's no sex in this one, either. Sorry.
I know what fear is.
It’s not fighting for your life. That’s not scary, that’s fun. Everything’s crystal-clear. You see-no, you know what your enemy’s going to do, so as he starts to swing high, you drop low and thrust. Don’t let the blood blind you. Pull out, duck to the side, move on. You don’t feel pain. Your breath burns in your throat like a shot of hard liquor. There’s no time to think, just to know and do. You stop to think- that is to say, you fuck up- you die. That’s why it makes you feel so alive.
The captain says battle is moving meditation. When we’re not fighting, he likes to practice his forms by himself and spar with me. I like to go fishing and climb high places. We both like to drink and fuck. He says those are all types of moving meditation. Well, maybe not drinking. But they all give you that strong pure feeling that’s the opposite of boredom, and the opposite of fear.
Some soldiers don’t like waiting for battles. They don’t mind once the fighting starts, but the waiting scares them. I just get bored. That’s why I always bring a pack of cards, and he always brings a book or three. I used to think I was afraid of boredom, but that was when I didn’t know what fear was.
Fear is the end of the battle and you can’t find your captain.
He wasn’t there when we re-assembled. He wasn’t in the tent with the wounded. And no one took any prisoners.
Fear is turning over every face-down body in case it’s him, and every face-up one in case he’s underneath. I should have been methodical, started at one end and gone up and down till I’d crossed the whole field, like a farmer in a rice paddy. But I ran back and forth and everywhere, looking in the same place three times, till I finally realized he wasn’t on the field. He must have stumbled off it, like people do when they can’t fight any more and don’t want to get trampled.
It was like I’d been wearing blinders. Once I thought to look for it, I saw the trail right away.
He was lying under a ginkgo tree, not sprawled like a corpse or curled up in pain, just lying there relaxed like he’d gone outside to read on a sunny afternoon. For a second I was convinced that he’d gotten bored with the battle and wandered off to take a nap. I had it all ready, what I’d say to him for scaring the shit out of me.
And then I got to his side, and his eyes were open and his glasses were on, but the blood was just everywhere.
“You stupid fuck!” I blurted out, which was the first part of what I’d been planning to say. “Why didn’t you even try to stop the bleeding?”
He gave me that look, like I was being a dumb-ass. “I did.”
I saw then that he’d knotted someone else’s shirt around his chest, but it was so completely soaked through that I hadn’t even seen that it was there.
Fuck.
“Sorry,” I said. “Guess I’m the one that needs glasses.”
I leaned over to slide my arms under his back, and he took that opportunity to grab my hand. His grip was strong, but cold as a blade.
“I’m not going.”
“It’s all right. You don’t have to walk, I’ll carry you. ”
“I said no. Lieutenant.” His breathing was ragged and shallow, but the command voice still worked. “I am not… going to die… upside-down over your shoulder.”
“That wasn’t how…”
I was close enough to see my own face reflected in his eyes, shining bright behind the smudged lenses. Then I sat back up, and for a moment he still looked to me as if he ought to have a book in one hand and a cup of sake in the other, telling me trivia about strategists I’d never heard of. And then I blinked and cleared my eyes, and his face was the color of snow over ashes, and every breath sounded like paper crumpling. And there was all that blood.
I opened my mouth to tell him he was wrong, that he had to hang on, that I wouldn’t let him go and I was taking him back whether he liked it or not. But I owed it to him not to be an annoying asshole, just for this once.
I was kneeling already, but I shifted my position to make it formal. “It’s been my very great honor and pleasure to serve under you, captain.” Then, dropping the respect language, I added, “And I mean that in every sense of those words.” I didn’t want to interfere with his breathing, so I just pressed my lips to his forehead.
He was smiling when I straightened up. “Mine too. I’ll try… not to go too far… without you.”
A gust of wind knocked a flurry of leaves off the ginkgo tree. They came spiraling down, a hundred tiny fans of old gold, and the captain’s gaze drifted away from me to watch them fall. “Nothing like autumn.”
“Spring is better,” I said automatically. “Sake and cherry blossoms, the weather’s nicer and the women dress all…” That was when it hit me: this was the last time we were ever going to argue over the seasons, or anything else. I choked.
“Lieutenant!” It was the command voice again. My head jerked back. “You are not… to hurry… to meet me.”
I couldn’t speak just then, and anyway I wasn’t going to tell him any lies. “I won’t,” I said at last. “I promise.”
“Good.” He lifted his hand to his face, forgetting, like he always did, that he was wearing glasses. Blood smeared all over the right lens.
“I’ll get that.” I lifted them off his face and hunted for something to polish them with that wasn’t covered in mud or blood or sweat. I had to tear out some of the lining of my vest, but they sparkled when I was through.
When I went to put them on, his eyes were wide and black, and there wasn’t anyone behind them any more.
I cleaned his face before I put his glasses on, and did my best with his hands and hair. I didn’t bother brushing off the leaves that had fallen on to his chest and stuck; he’d have liked that. Then I picked him up and headed back to camp.
When I thought of what would happen when I walked in- exclamations, medics rushing up in case he was still alive, questions about what had happened (I realized then that I had no fucking idea), stories about what a great guy he was, probably even some dumb motherfuckers telling me they were sorry- I wanted to jump in the river instead. But I had promised not to hurry.
You better keep your promise, captain, and wait for me.