"No way," comes a shriek from up the hall. "I thought you were kidding when you said you guys were leaving me behind!"
Era's grandmother raises her wrinkled face, eyes swallowed by age but still glinting in the direction of the cry. "So much for them being reputable customers," growls the old woman.
Era ignores the observation, wiping the spot on the counter harder. To her grandmother, all people are sinners and hooligans. Era thought that their four guests were kind enough, or at least the one registering them had been polite. And they were all so good looking.
"Stay there!" shouts someone else.
And as the three "older" guests come down the stairs the courteous one who had first greeted Era this afternoon is calmly calling up behind him. "Please watch after our rooms, Goku. We'll bring you a present for when we return."
"Don't bribe him," mutters the one leading the troop, and Era can see that he's got blonde hair. It catches her eye, since so few people here have that colour unless it's fake. And something tells her that his is authentic.
When the guests had first registered at her father's inn, Era had noticed that this one had been in some kind of robe. The garment had obscured him, and she got the impression that this was exactly the purpose of the costume.
Now, all three guests were dressed in loose clothing not marked by wear or travel. She smiles when the long-haired one with the sharp eyes rolls in her direction. "Are you going to the clubs?" she asks.
"Well," croons the sharp one, his eyes as red as his hair. Surely these aren't natural. He certainly looks like the type who would party. "We could use a pretty guide to show us which ones are worth going to."
"We'll manage," laughs the one who had registered, as if embarrassed. Did he not say they were all brothers? He must be older…
Ignoring the implication to leave Era alone, the stylish one leans on the counter and says, "we've never been to a city like yours. Surely you could tell us what you do for fun."
"Oh please," exhales the blonde, passing through the door to the hot, outside world.
Era's face begins to burn when she realizes that this one is hitting on her. For a moment she almost wishes her grandmother would intervene, but it wouldn't surprise Era to know that the old woman has forgotten her anger and has fallen asleep already. Young Era can't draw away from the counter and suddenly feels stupid, stammering on the spot to answer his question.
"Uh…there's…um, live music at the Corner Stone, um…seven blocks west?"
The redhead starts to open his mouth when he's suddenly pulled back by a grip at his ear. "Live music sounds lovely," smiles the polite one, giving her a wink before he drags his "dear brother" after the blonde.
"Will you cut it out?!" the other shouts, though grandma does not awaken.
Era sighs, not sure if she'll regret not keeping the redhead around. He is cute, but she's not sure she's up for something so intense.
"They're probably just passing through," she tells herself as a comfort.
"Excuse me?"
Era straightens up immediately and sees the short member of the new party poking his head around the side of the wall. It must have been this one who has just been left behind.
"Yeah?"
"Is there any food around here?"
Poor kid.
Era glances at the clock. Her mother won't be ready to offer supper for at least another hour. "I'll go look," she answers, glad that there's something to distract her.
The other smiles and it makes her smile too. These odd people…
♠
"You know, I could have totally had a date by now. But nooooo, I have to be single like you two losers."
Hakkai keeps step with Gojyo, but both tread several feet behind the Priest.
"You'd have just left the inn-keeper's daughter by herself when you found someone older," explains Hakkai. "And she's working right now. You don't even know if she has a special someone already. And what if you offended her father? Where would we stay tonight, now that we've already paid?"
"Your logic is flawed," contests the redhead, but he doesn't explain further.
"Shut it up," comes a growl from ahead.
Gojyo snorts and Hakkai happily notes that Sanzo is leading them to the establishment that Era had recommended, all on his own.
Hakkai's already got his heart set on the music.
It had been just after noon on the hot and dusty day when Hakuryu had pulled into sight of the large city. For the first time in their journey the destination for a night's lodging made up a large square on Hakkai's map. Having become used to small villages (when they were lucky), arriving in a developed metropolis held its potential.
The night life, for example. There are neon signs shining in the warm summer air further down the street and already a steady throb of bass is filtering from the corner where they are heading. It is like a pulse that has been absent for too long, suddenly resurrected for the young men who had wisely left their boy at home.
A perfect time and place to celebrate reaching such a landmark in their journey.
Their clothes are made as if to survive a night of humid adventures, loose and open down the front. Silk hangs down Hakkai's arms as if to make up for Gojyo's absent sleeves. Sanzo wears a vest that almost invites someone small and dainty to hang off of the outer layers, (not that this will happen).
(Ever.)
Hakkai is not sure if he's more bemused by the fact that they're doing this, or that they're still not drawing attention as they stroll down the main street. There are dozens of young men and women about, nearly all decked out in similar styles. Gojyo's already picking up a bounce in his step and peering around rather suspiciously, having also been aware that he's not instantly in the limelight.
Yet, Hakkai concedes, he will probably be covering Goku's ears for the next few weeks if Gojyo cuts loose like Hakkai knows he can. The stories of his "triumphs" have been far and few between lately.
But he shouldn't be surprised. Each town had just carried it's own problems; assassins, Sanzo's ire and urge to drive on through for no real reason, or poor standards of living which make socializing impossible.
"It's nice to be in a place where people aren't looking over their shoulders every few seconds," Hakkai offers as conversation.
Gojyo grunts, still distracted by his inability to distract other people.
For Sanzo, this night is a much needed change of pace. There'll be no mistaking the blonde for a high-ranking holy man tonight.
"You two better not fuck this up," Sanzo mutters as they step up to the doorway.
"Baldy," growls the redhead as he pulls his shirt to make sure it looks just right. "I should be telling you not to cramp myyyyyyy…hello there."
Though Hakkai cannot see where Gojyo is looking, he can assume that the first ladies of the evening have been spotted. The poor innkeeper's daughter would have been deserted at the door.
"Ah," Hakkai speaks up, feeling a scowl forming. "Perhaps we should designate a meeting area just in case of emergency?"
"Leave me out of it," is the answer from Sanzo, who is already finding himself a table and leaving Hakkai behind. Gojyo, too, has moved away.
Hakkai hums, but with an air of wry, satisfaction. He supposes that had either Gojyo or Sanzo responded responsibly, he'd have to kill them both for being imposters. With a fluid motion of transferring his hands to his loose pockets, Hakkai puts himself into a march towards the stage where several musicians are setting up while the club's stereo continues to beat forth prerecorded tracks.
It is as if the inside of the Corner Stone is an organ full of soft, working shapes. The world is made tiny and it reverberates from the strumming pulse; instruments and titillated laughter. There's the occasional creak of wood and metal chairs being adjusted. Women bubble with voices against those who are smooth enough move between and around all bodies and their sounds. There's a taste of a sharp, biting shot and an exchange of currency and coin with the bartender. Dirty jokes are overheard and someone loses a female companion. There are a hundred things going on and it all happens under the warm and sometimes phantasmal glow of coloured, hazy lights. Bodies pour into the building and soon there's barely elbow room on the dance floor.
It's not unlikely that Sanzo will finally get the attention of a waitress who will hurry to get him a drink. She'll be waylaid by the pretty eyes of a certain redhead as Hakkai fades politely into the middle of the crowd to give those who want to dance harder a safer place to do it.
Or this is how Hakkai's always imagined these places working. It plays out like a script that's entirely improvised; everything new, but accepted fully as it happens. The band plays songs that bleed into one another, with no real start or end. It's very different from the rusty tunes that wrench forth on Hakuryu's radio.
Hakkai's done festivals and knows well how a standard bar is run, but this is his first big city. This is the first time he's surrounded by people his age. He's never been in the middle of something so carefree and pointless, save for once.
It's heavy, like a weight on his chest. Breaking like a tide and tearing the skin down his middle. He feels the clasps at his ear burn for a second, aware that his limiters allow him to exist here. And the dazed and euphoric eyes that scan over him just think he's making a statement of fashion.
It's the song. He should be wondering about whether Gojyo or Sanzo feel this way, but he knows it's just him. (Because now the band is playing a song about a girl.)
There are faces around him, all made bright by the stage lights and many mouths are moving along with the words he doesn't know, but can imagine. Glittering eyes to go with the glittering sounds, arms flailing as if they follow a tempo of their own, jostling next to a dozen other strangers who move as if in precise precision; they all feel the same thing.
This song is for them, and it's all about hope.
This is the city and there are no demons here. This is the heart and no nightmares can get in. This is the bassline and she would have truly loved this song…
"Oh." And he's fading back, more clumsy than usual until the bodies finally part to let him free. Hakkai exhales, breathes in and then exhales once more. His arm aches in a tell-tale way, and he almost laughs because he's never hurt his arm. Not his hands, with their miserably short lifelines. Not his fingers, which have done more work than this entire organ of a bar.
He exhales once more, regaining a sense of assurance that all can be well with just a little patience. Then, glancing over his shoulder, Hakkai tries to trace out the location of his friends.
Because if he falls…
There's a gathering around one service counter and without a doubt, that's where Gojyo is at his best; entertaining. Then there's the darker and more isolated corner of the building. Hakkai makes for that.
Sanzo's table has three chairs around it, though it seems that someone had tried to push them back with a half-hearted gesture. The Priest's head rests in one propped hand while dark eyes skim dully over a wine menu. Hakkai steps over a crumpled paper with what could be an address, lonely on the floor.
"Mind if I join you?" Hakkai asks, pulling a cast-off seat closer.
"Do whatever," mutters the Priest, giving the action a look that seems to ask what the point of asking had been in the first place. "Aren't you here for the music?"
Hakkai smiles, caught without confessing. "They're a really good band."
The song about disaster is only now just ending, the finer details of the chords lost with the crowd and the distance from the stage. It's too early to tell if the sounds are already trapped in Hakkai's head. The words won't stay, but the meaning?
"I beg to differ."
Hakkai looks across at Sanzo for clarification, but the monk is already shifting. One of the bar waitresses had not been far on Hakkai's heels.
"Sorry," she flushes. "This is on the house for taking so long."
"You might as well bring another," Sanzo mutters, taking the single glass of something dark and pulling it towards himself. Hakkai's seen children do the same when they want the message clear that the present object is theirs.
"Thanks," Hakkai murmurs; to the waitress who hesitates before nodding, and to Sanzo because it's at least official that the monk has surrendered his time alone to unwanted company.
Sanzo shifts back in his seat, giving the plastic menu an unsatisfied toss. "The waitress."
"Pardon?"
Hakkai watches Sanzo frown. "She was going to ask something. Probably to confirm if we were going to cover Gojyo's tab."
It could almost be a curse, how the Priest had spoken Gojyo's name.
Folding his hands on the table, Hakkai raises a brow. "And?"
Sanzo's curt reply is broken up by a crash of a glass. Hakkai shifts about to look over his shoulder, and it's the woman they had been talking about who is flustered and apologizing.
"So sorry mister, you took me completely by surprise…"
This is why we don't talk about people when they're not listening, Hakkai notes of the waitress. It's bad karma.
Sanzo is very nobly rolling his eyes as Hakkai returns to their conversation. But then the unfortunate man who had run into the waitress speaks up and though the din in the club is rallied and loud, the climax passes for the song and sound hangs for a second.
Like the moment where the heart rests between beats, the volume drops and the stranger several steps away from Hakkai and Sanzo's table says, "don't worry. It's only human to make a mistake."
Then everything falls. The sticks strike the drums, picks to guitars, feet to the floor. Hakkai feels the blood fall from his face and across from him Sanzo is cradling his glass as if he's testing the weight of the liquid inside.
Oblivious.
Hakkai pushes himself away from the table, digging deep in his memory to hold onto his realization. Checking it, doubting it, testing it. But he's also so certain…
"But…" Chin Yisou is dead.
It's Hakkai who ignores Sanzo's questioning glance now, twisting around as everything sane twists around him. And there, a shadow among shadows is that familiar grin. White teeth, and glittering eyes.
Chin Yisou is dead!
And Hakkai falls into it.
--