Their hesitation when the gun is loaded lets Sanzo fall into a rhythm where he's able to rest a little bit, at least. Never entirely left alone, but it's easier to fight a few of the bastards than a sea of them.
A few of their attacks get through on the priest. A slice to the ribs here, barely slowed by the ceremonial bamboo breastplate. A shallow stab there, where a claw gets past his sword and burrows into his shoulder before he takes the creature's head off.
And Sanzo's always been a bleeder. Slow to clot even if he was holding still, and he's definitely not doing that. While those white robes of his start to run with red, the priest barely seems to even notice.
This is one of the lulls bought by the fully-loaded banishing gun, and Sanzo holds his free hand against his bleeding side, panting for breath.
"Is that all you fuckers got?"
That's right, he's going to talk shit. And get hit.
Also a Tuesday.
But this time when the surge of enemies come, it seems like it's all of them at once, and Sanzo braces, jaw set with determination. He'll take all you fucking fucks!
...
A young Genjo Sanzo, not yet even used to the name, had wandered the mountains between Kinzan and Chang'an for five long, isolated years after his father's brutal murder. For five horrifying, scraping years, he'd killed every would-be rapist or assassin sent his way, unable to even place the sutra on his shoulders. The weight had been too much.
The weight of all the murder had been too much. The weight of the moonlight, pressing down. Reminding him of his failure. The guilt had nearly crushed him.
And often, he'd dreamed -- wished -- prayed -- that somehow the memory of Koumyou Sanzo's death had been a fabrication. An illusion. A horrible mistake, and not just in that such a powerful priest had died for someone as small and weak and worthless as him.
He had wanted, more than anything, more than even finding the Seiten sutra that was now his charge, to see Koumyou Sanzo again. Alive. Smiling. Coming to save him from the guilt and the corpses piling onto him. Save him from this group of bandits, save him from that enraged village. Save him.
He'd have given anything for that. He'd have given anything to have his father back, the one person he'd ever loved, the one person who might reach down and pluck him from the river of blood and guilt he was drowning in.
So.
In the here and now, when the monsters rush in and there is suddenly that familiar body in those familiar robes between himself and the danger, it actually makes Genjo Sanzo's knees give out. He goes to one knee in the dirt, holding himself up with the sword dug into the ground, as the world around him erupts into absolute carnage.
Tendrils of the Seiten sutra are out, not even glowing, but slicing through monstrous bodies like tissue paper. They don't dissolve like they had for the Maten's makai tenjou, simply sliced apart to land on the ground in wet plops.
Koumyou wastes no time, immediately jumping onto one of the larger beasts to snap its thick neck in his hands, which crackle with lightning he sends roaring into the thick of the pack of foes. Burning monster is a memorable smell, it turns out, and the screaming while they incinerate seems to go on for forever.
If this was a war zone before, it's an actual hell now, and not because the humans and their civilian charges are losing anymore.
Koumyou Sanzo has arrived, and he isn't fucking around.
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A few of their attacks get through on the priest. A slice to the ribs here, barely slowed by the ceremonial bamboo breastplate. A shallow stab there, where a claw gets past his sword and burrows into his shoulder before he takes the creature's head off.
And Sanzo's always been a bleeder. Slow to clot even if he was holding still, and he's definitely not doing that. While those white robes of his start to run with red, the priest barely seems to even notice.
This is one of the lulls bought by the fully-loaded banishing gun, and Sanzo holds his free hand against his bleeding side, panting for breath.
"Is that all you fuckers got?"
That's right, he's going to talk shit. And get hit.
Also a Tuesday.
But this time when the surge of enemies come, it seems like it's all of them at once, and Sanzo braces, jaw set with determination. He'll take all you fucking fucks!
...
A young Genjo Sanzo, not yet even used to the name, had wandered the mountains between Kinzan and Chang'an for five long, isolated years after his father's brutal murder. For five horrifying, scraping years, he'd killed every would-be rapist or assassin sent his way, unable to even place the sutra on his shoulders. The weight had been too much.
The weight of all the murder had been too much. The weight of the moonlight, pressing down. Reminding him of his failure. The guilt had nearly crushed him.
And often, he'd dreamed -- wished -- prayed -- that somehow the memory of Koumyou Sanzo's death had been a fabrication. An illusion. A horrible mistake, and not just in that such a powerful priest had died for someone as small and weak and worthless as him.
He had wanted, more than anything, more than even finding the Seiten sutra that was now his charge, to see Koumyou Sanzo again. Alive. Smiling. Coming to save him from the guilt and the corpses piling onto him. Save him from this group of bandits, save him from that enraged village. Save him.
He'd have given anything for that. He'd have given anything to have his father back, the one person he'd ever loved, the one person who might reach down and pluck him from the river of blood and guilt he was drowning in.
So.
In the here and now, when the monsters rush in and there is suddenly that familiar body in those familiar robes between himself and the danger, it actually makes Genjo Sanzo's knees give out. He goes to one knee in the dirt, holding himself up with the sword dug into the ground, as the world around him erupts into absolute carnage.
Tendrils of the Seiten sutra are out, not even glowing, but slicing through monstrous bodies like tissue paper. They don't dissolve like they had for the Maten's makai tenjou, simply sliced apart to land on the ground in wet plops.
Koumyou wastes no time, immediately jumping onto one of the larger beasts to snap its thick neck in his hands, which crackle with lightning he sends roaring into the thick of the pack of foes. Burning monster is a memorable smell, it turns out, and the screaming while they incinerate seems to go on for forever.
If this was a war zone before, it's an actual hell now, and not because the humans and their civilian charges are losing anymore.
Koumyou Sanzo has arrived, and he isn't fucking around.