Saiyuki: Weapons
I killed a thousand youkai with nothing more than a blade and the strength my own hatred. For my sins, I became a youkai myself. Now, I have set aside that blade and picked up my guilt in its place.
I knew I could never use an axe or a sword as a weapon. Not after-not with all the memories attached. Not as long as I still saw red whenever I looked in the mirror. Then I found the shakujo, and it fit. I used it to paint the world in the same hated shade of crimson. It didn’t stop me from flinching the next time I saw my own reflection.
Death has always been my closest companion. When my master died, I was close enough to feel his hair brush across my face. The days after I left the temple where filled with the deaths of bandits, youkai and perverts who were stupid enough to underestimate me. Only my own death seemed out of reach. It hasn’t bothered me for a long time. Death would dog my footsteps? Fine. Get in line, bastards. It’s time to deal it out.
I’ve never been sure if I chose Nyoibou or it chose me. But Sanzo stopped trying to leave me behind when he went on missions once I had it, so I guess I don’t really care. The important thing is that if I die fighting, I do it at Sanzo’s side.