Disclaimer: I do not own Saiyuki or anything else that anybody in the known universe could sue me for. I own nothing.

AN: Okay. This is the second chaper. Mostly musings so far until I develop some kind of plot. But until that fateful day, please enjoy our dear War Prince's suffering.

Condemnation in Heaven

Homura slept. He found that his dreams offered a temporary relief from his prison. It was the only time he could see the sunlight, or feel the warmth of Rinrei's soft touches. Of course there was always the moment where he woke up and realized where he really was. But they were indeed beautiful dreams while they lasted. Just like his dream to forge a new heaven and earth. He supposed it had been doomed from the moment he crossed paths with Konzen, or Genjo Sanzo, as it seemed was now the case. He should have known the other man would stop at nothing to defeat him. Konzen was always like that.

Amazing. How old he felt all of a sudden, and he was, by human standards at least. By divine standards he was actually quite young. But he'd suffered a lifetime's worth. Mentally he felt as old as time.

Physically, he felt young again; there was no sign of the internal decay that had been killing him before. Maybe if he ever got out of there he'd challenge Son Goku again for a real fight. Take them all on at once even. Then afterwards he'd tell Konzen -Genjo Sanzo- to make sure he was dead this time.

Dreaming of battling Son Goku was probably the best of his waking dreams. Even though he knew it would never happen again. Homura knew well that all remaining in his fate was darkness and death. He had no idea if it was wise to pursue these fantasies. For all he knew living in a world of your own mental creation was the fastest way to insanity. Then again, maybe living within your own mind was the only way to keep your sanity when you're looking at hundreds of years in prison.

As far as he could tell though, it was the latter of the two. Thinking had kept him occupied this long.

It was strange. He never even doubted these things the first time. It was just how he'd grown up. Homura supposed there was a time before prison. Every now and then when dreaming he got flashes of a life before then. Walking uncomfortably across a tile floor, eating delicious, warm food, the laughing of his parents, even a distorted image of his mother's face. It made him consider how young he must have been when they locked him up.

There was something truly disgusting about beings that called themselves gods and demons scum, when they locked a small child away in prison for years on end to keep a scandal under wraps. If there was indeed some higher power that created even the gods, Homura had to wonder if this person was incompetent for giving such power to undeserving, bigoted monsters. Maybe if this higher power had put different people in charge of heaven then things like taboo wouldn't exist.

Maybe he wouldn't be here.

Maybe his parents would have surrounded him growing up instead of walls.

Maybe Rinrei wouldn't have been cast down.

Maybe he could have had a family with her.

At those different 'maybes' that played themselves out in his mind, he couldn't contain this sense of anger. All of that should have been his. He, like any god in heaven, deserved to have those experiences.

With a resigned sigh, he leaned back and smiled a sad smile. He would have loved to have a family with Rinrei.

But now that he thought about it, who's fault was it that he wasn't doing that right now? He could have rebelled against the gods the moment they crowned him War Prince. If he hadn't been blinded so thoroughly by his own self-loathing he could have risen against the gods; fought each and every one single handedly. Even if he had died in the process then at least he would have taken as many of the bastards with him as possible. That would have almost as been as good a death as his battle with Son Goku. In it's own way even better. That way he would be forever remembered as having stained the ivory halls of heaven with blood. He would have been the pawn that was beyond their control.

He could have died a revolutionary, the first among many to rise against the bureaucracy of the gods. Perhaps that one act of slaughter would forever be remembered, and passed down to those being born in heaven. Maybe more like him would be born, one day leading a successful campaign to rob the Jade Emperor of his throne.

But as it stood, that would not happen. As things were it was the path he'd chosen was too subtle. You're only truly remembered in heaven if you kill enough gods so that everybody knows about it. Otherwise the nobles of the court will brush whatever mess you cause under the rug...yes; maybe he could have taken the more direct, the more violent route.

Only in dreams can you explore the possibilities of 'maybe'...

VVVVV

AN: Okay...I hope it will develop some kind of plot soon. But for now enjoy the musings. Please R&R