(A/N: I'm slowly easing myself into the dark and pirahna filled waters of the sea known as Yaoi. I'm pretty sure I'll still write some coughcough normal stuff, but as a warning...Anyway. This one isn't quite yaoi yet...I'm working on the endings now. Two seperate ones. Ugh.)
(One last note...I HATE how I started, since it's so...wandery and stupid. Vapid. Completely devoid of purpose. I stuck it on anyway, though...it gets better.)
I'm not the man I used to be, all right.
Maybe I never was. Ever since Jien, no, excuse me, Dokugakuji (That is one helluva mouthful, but I guess it suits the bastard...even if I'm really the only one deserving of that particular title) killed off Mom to save me...ever since he left me in that shack a mile away from her decomposing body, I've never been the same.
And now that I think about it, I've got my own masks. I don't smile, like Hakkai, or frown like Sanzo, but I've got a million of them. My come hither, you foxy lady face, my gambling face, my Sanzo's trying to kill me face...yeah, a million, but they're not real. Even though they come naturally, they're not real.
I never thought about this before we came along to Kami-sama's place. Why the hell should I? I had booze, smokes, ladies...everything in life that I needed. But I guess I was just being stupid, you know? First the kid. I've never been good around crying ladies, but kids...kids I understand. Poor boy was trying to save his brother, or what he thought was his bro. I can't blame him. Stupid thing to do, but hey, I tried to get love from someone who hated me. Who's the stupid one after all?'
I think only Hakkai realized why I left. I was...afraid to face myself, my true face, the face I saw on Kinkaku. And I knew that Hakkai would read my mind and talk to me, and I knew I couldn't survive that. Not a snowball's chance in hell. And then I decided to kill Kami-sama, or at least figure out why he'd do that. Figure out why Mom would do that.
I guess I should've known that the bastard would use her against me, but I didn't think. I just knew that I had a chance to make her happy, that I could die and never be tortured again by my memories of the look on Jien's face. But I've changed in those years, and I can't help that. I could, but I'm a cockroach, and us roaches don't die easy.
And it's night, the first night since we truly settled down in this town. Sanzo and Monkey-face are back in a temple, and Hakkai and I pooled our money to get a cheap little apartment-house. It's only got four rooms and a hallway, so that means we've got a kitchen, bathroom, living/dining room, and bedroom.
We slept on the floor the first few weeks until we pulled enough money from poker to buy some furniture. The plan was that I'd sleep on the sofa and he'd have the bed, but the only sofa we could get was one with three places that'd give you a vasectomy free of charge. So we dumped that idea and just got a big bed. The bedroom was too small (the closet screwed up the bed space) for two separate ones, especially if you liked blood circulating below the knee when you passed between them.
Yeah, life's okay. I could feel Hakkai's smooth breathing, deep and slow, without more than a soft snore on occasion. It's wierd how small he seems even now. He's just as big as I am, but when he sleeps, it's like he shrinks. Jeep's curled on his stomach, the safest place from my kicking and probably the softest place on Hakkai.
I remember when we first got Jeep.
It's six in the morning, and I'm jerked out of sleep by a strident car horn. I fall out of bed, my skin shrinking away from the cold floor. I rub the goosebumps from my arms and look out the window, where the sun is barely making a golden halo on the horizon. An olive-green jeep is outside the shabby little apartment. I blink and look around to find out who in the hell dared to wake me at six in the fucking morning, and see no one.
"The hell?"
Another blast comes from the abandoned car. I can almost see the other tenants stirring and cursing the noise. I turn to check on Hakkai, but he's already gone. Damn. I yank on worn slippers and shuffle out into the cold, ready to beat the hell out of that car. But it's not there anymore. Instead, a small white thing sat on Hakkai's shoulder and kyu'ed.
"Look, Gojyo. It's a dragon."
"That's one helluva small dragon. Where's the car?" I look around, the broom I'd grabbed in hand.
"He is the car."
"What the heck? Don't screw around with me, Hakkai, I'm gonna kill tha-"
A small puff of dust rises from the jeep's wheels. I stare. And suddenly there's a small ripple over the surface of the car and the dragon is back.
"Wha?"
"I think I'll keep him. He seems to like me." No,really? It was curled around his neck, cheeping softly. Good lord. I tramped back up the stairs.
"Whatever. I'm goin' back to sleep."
I don't know where the dragon came from, but it never made any trouble after that, and the other tenants figured some kid had played a prank. We didn't tell them any different.
Every time I look at that dragon, I swear I almost remember something, but it's always almost, and always faint. A lot like the memory of my mother.
Sometimes I'll be on the streets, just walking, when maybe a certain dress style, hair color, body shape, anything, even a basket of pears once, will bring back the faintest scent of
(poppies water woman)
something I don't know, and I wish I could place a face to that scent. I really do.
And so I can't really do anything about my life, I think. Can't do anything about the red of my hair, can't do anything about the red of my eyes. So for now I'm just living for myself. No one else to live for.
It's summer, and the night's warm. I walk back from the bar, pockets jingling with extra change and a lump in one where the wad of money's nested. It's humid, too, but I don't really pay this any mind - the mosquitos are far worse than a little sweat. I swear and swat, but it's late, really late, and I know Hakkai'll be asleep. Part of me bellows that it needs rest, the beer and smoky air just wasn't worth the exhaustion now and the hangover later, so hell with him and his sleep.
I can hear the sound of slow feet in an apartment on the way back, and low voices. One is high and panicked, the other rumbling like thunder. A third joins in with timid staccato notes. This a melody I think I know, I'm sure I know, and before I can really think, I'm standing at the window, peeking in through the drapes. I know they can't see me, the light's too dim, the air too smoky. And suddenly I know exactly where this is from.
I know because I've heard the same tune before, when I was younger. I'm scared for no reason, but I keep my eyes on the scene before me. A young child, I'm not sure if it's a girl or boy, shrinks into a chair, eyes wide and fearful. A man stands, his shoulders and head thrust aggressively forward, his hands clenched in angry fists. A woman is backed into a corner, her hands twisted together, held up to her lips. Even in the poor light I can see she has a bruise on her forearm, large and black and vicious, and a black eye. The man's words are unclear, but his intention is obvious.
He strikes the child, shouting, and I can see by the redness that suffuses his face that he's drunk. I go to the door, wanting to help, and realizing there's no way, there's no possible way to stop this. The minute I go in, he'll turn his anger on me. And even if I beat him up, he'll turn on the woman and child later. But I can't just let him do this. I summon my shakujou and shatter the wooden door.
Everything is silent for a moment, then as I predicted, the man turns on me.
"What the fuck're you doin' in my house!"
His voice is slurred. I know he's drunk - the alcohol poisons the air around him.
"What the fuck're you doing to that kid?"
The man's face goes purple, and I wonder hopefully if he's going to have a heart attack.
"None of your business. 'Ey, you haven't been cheating on me, have you? Have you!"
The woman shrinks further and shakes her head, her voice high and breathless, and she doesn't seem able to talk. All she can do is squeak.
"You shouldn't treat a lady like that, man. What's she done to you?"
His face is apoplectic.
"DONE! DONE! She's gone and had this damn child, look at the bastard! He ain't even mine!"
I glance at the kid, and notice something that stops me cold. He has red hair, but his eyes...they're puffed up, blackened, and you can't tell what color they're supposed to be. A bastard. A bastard like me. But the look in those eyes breaks something in me. He's begging for me to please go, please don't make it worse. But my temper's up.
"So? Can't find anyone to pick on your own size, fatso?"
He bellows in rage, swings a roundhouse punch at my head. I duck and knock his legs out from under him. He's on the floor, groaning. I put up my weapon - fair is fair. The kid's whimpering against the cushion, curled tight against the felled giant at his feet. I turn toward him, meaning to comfort him, when there's a flash of pain. And I'm kneeling on the carpet, getting well acquainted with stains and interwoven hairs, the back half of my head throbbing incessantly. The man's breathing heavily, a broken beer bottle in his hand.
I'm confused for a moment, icy liquid soaking my hair and running down my neck. And then I know what's going on, and I stand slowly.
"That's for you, you son of a-"
I don't wait. I lunge forward, sink my fist into his belly, bring my knee into his crotch. Draw my other hand back and crush it into his face, let my foot down so I can use to other one to kick him in the stomach. He's down, gasping for air. There's a gurgling quality I don't like in his throat, but I don't care right now. I'm scared something's happened to the kid.
I breathe a sigh of relief too early. He's relaxed now, head tilted curiously toward where the fight took place, but there's a strange stillness about him. And now I'm sure there's something wrong. My steps are unsteady, but I kneel before this boy, touch his shoulders gently. My arms are too tired to support this new weight, and my hands rest curled on the seat. A gleam of greenish light attracts my attention. A shard of glass, at least as long as my hand, though not nearly as wide, has gone through his neck. Improbable. Impossible.
And suddenly I realize that my hands are coated with the blood that has stopped pumping out of his throat only moments ago. I raise them, stare at them, until the sheer silence gets to me. I turn. The woman sits sprawled on the floor. I shuffle on my knees toward her, eerily entranced by her stillness. A cloying sweet smell hangs on her, and if it wasn't perfume, it was definatly opium. Opium, in this day and time. She is too thin, too rotted for it to be anything else. I suppose her heart had given out. I reach for her bare shoulder.
One drop of blood swells, grows pregnant, and drops onto her worn, off-white sleeping gown. A dot of red on a field of white. It scares me, or wakes my fear back up into way too high levels. And I'm gone, running down the road, not quite daring to rub the blood on my shirt. I don't know why.
Our door looms large, and I almost touch the knob. But I jerk my hand away to poke at the doorbell with my elbow. The sound of it is loud, too loud, in my ears.
I fidget for an eternity, holding my arms out awkwardly from my body. At last the door opens. I totter forward. He catches me by the shoulders, and I try to hide my hands. He just looks at me silently for a moment, then helps me into the dusky house and to the sink. runs the water over my hands. I'm feeling like the world's biggest baby, but most of me needs to be reassured. Needs to know someone won't blame me, even if it's only to return the favor.
"You know..."
"What? I can't read your mind, Hakkai." My voice shakes. I know he knows, but neither of us mentions it. It's an elephant in the living room. He looks at me, and we both understand - that day years ago, when I stumbled across him on that path. In the rain. It's not raining now, though there's a rumble of deep thunder every minute or so.
"Nothing. It's nothing."
There's a vacuum of silence between us. I rub my hands on a semi-clean towel. Hakkai picks up a container of tea, then puts it down. He looked almost helpless in the dark kitchen.
"What happened, Gojyo?"
I open my mouth, intending to throw his words back at him - that it was nothing, nothing at all, but what comes flooding out is tonight's story, tonight's horror show. He steers me to the cheap plastic chairs around the table.
" -And the kid, Hakkai...I swear he asked me to stop, but -"
"Gojyo...it's okay. You need sleep, you've been drinking too much, anyway."
It's okay? It's okay! How was this okay? How was ruining any possibility of an even slightly decent future for a boy like that okay? I stand up and shake my head.
"It's not okay. I'm sleeping on the couch tonight."
He looks a little hurt at this, but I manage to arrange myself on the couch with only one rib broken this time. I hear him pattering around in the kitchen, and then silence.
(A/N: Don't ask me if that kid was really a half breed, I don't really know or care. There'll be a yaoi and non yaoi ending on this, seperate chapters. I'll update it later when I've written them...comment me? Even if it's for flames? pulls on asbestos suit)
