I don't own Saiyuki.
And I know it's a short little thing. But it won't leave me alone. Kinda like Goku.
Really, it's a beautiful day in mid-summer. The air is warm, there is the sweet scent of cookies floating about and he is sitting in a puddle of sunshine, his favourite rocker creaking slightly as he smiles sweetly at the young woman in front of him.
"Would you like one?" she asks, her voice so vibrant and soothing. "Certainly. Thank you," and he stretches an old, knobbly hand out towards the plate of oatmeal cookies, carefully picking out the biggest one to her amusement.
He munches slowly on the cookie, savoring every bite. She plops down in the chair beside him, picking up his hand when he is done and brushing off the crumbs. After that, she refuses to let his hand go, rubbing his arthritic, scarred knuckles. She turns it over after a while.
"It looks like that myth about lifelines is true," she says with a brilliant smile and he cocks his head in confusion. "You're ninety this year, right?" He nods slowly. "Look, your lifeline goes all the way down to your wrist."
That's not right, and he knows it. His lifeline is extremely short. Gojyo said so. But he looks closely, squinting with his tired old green eye. The line is faint, certainly, hidden amongst the seams of a hand that had been busy all its life.
And he chuckles, a true, heartfelt sound. It's not a wrinkle at all. It's the faintest remnants of permanent marker, etched there in a hurry by a golden-eyed monkey.
"Well what do you know?" he says, still laughing.