A/N: I finished "Cornerstone"...and promptly deleted it. I'm restarting from where I left off (geez, doesn't this sound familiar?) and that explains the second hiatus. Sorry I'm so capricious about this fic, but I just couldn't get my ducks in a row about it.
This chapter's pretty short, sorry for that, but they'll get much longer when Sanzo awakens again. (Yeah, he's survived the night...)
When you see the pronoun "Ou-san" I just kinda flubbed that - remember episode 9 where Gojyo addresses the mysterious (at that time) Dokugakuji as "ou-san"? Yeah, that's where I stole it - at this point, the addresser is unsure of the age of the addressee, and we all know Gojyo's got a minor complex about onii-san versus ojii-san. It didn't seem like him to venture a guess ^.^
Enjoy
***
"Ohayo, ou-san."
The greeting was enough to shatter the silence and scatter the thoughts so carefully garnered in the darkness. As the spectator stood silent, the voice continued.
"We're staying in here out of the goodness of our hearts. Your hospitality's not the best. Waking me up before sunrise? Your damn' torch died before even midnight besides."
Keiji spoke into the darkness, his eyes finally adjusting without the aid of stars and moon and imminent sunrise. "You can't see outside."
"I can -feel- midnight, ou-san." The speaker was the redhead, the hanyou that had so deeply disturbed Keiji the first time they had locked eyes. He was the only one sitting, crouched over his knees and staring into the direction from which Keiji's voice had come. "Let's have a talk, you and I."
"You want to bargain?"
"To get to know you." The redhead cocked his head to the side, hair obscuring his face. Though, even to Keiji, it was hardly necessary in the pitch. His face was a mess of shadows no matter what. "We're brothers, ne? Someone said we were like twins." His voice held a note of teasing, of playful jibe completely incongruous to the circumstances. He smiled then, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world to just chat.
One of his companions groaned, soft and light, reaching up to probe at his own face. The redhead hissed softly to quiet him, putting out a hand and touching him. The gentle connection of hand to shoulder lasted only a split second, hardly enough to disturb the air around them, but it was enough. The man on the ground slowly relaxed every muscle, feigning tumultuous sleep and scratching at his shoulder. As if Keiji couldn't tell.
"So, onii-san," the redhead continued in a tone meant to provoke. The name struck a chord not only of familiarity but it brought his similarity to Keiji into shocking relief. "This is a nice little shindig you've got. All yours?"
Keiji stood silent, unsure of how to respond without killing or being killed. He didn't doubt the redhead at least could break free and kill him. And he was the only person he really cared for anyway, so Keiji didn't hold great stock in saving any other lives but his own.
"I'm guessing, because you granted us our lives, ne? Tell me, was it your mother?" The redhead smiled. "It was my father. Come on, onii-san, open up."
"Mother," Keiji found himself whispering, knowing not only the intention of the question but the truth behind its vagueness. He hated that he answered, hated all of them for knowing and flaunting it in their ways. The blonde Sanzo was still, comatose, and his eyelids were shut over his beautiful eyes. And yet violet was so much better than fury-red, fire-red. Keiji-red.
"She's letting you live on her name. Isn't she. You're a mutt and they listen to you. She's got to scare the fuck out of them for you to be able to do that. Does she love you?"
"I hate her." The words were out before Keiji could stop them, and he slammed his fists against the sturdy front of the pen. This thing, this mutt like him was making him talk. Without his consent, he was talking to someone who should...who should already understand.
In the face of the onslaught, Keiji's brother, the man that called him onii-san only said, "Oh."
But his fingers curled in the bloody dirt by his sides, ripping fingernails in the cold, packed earth.
*
"What?!"
"It is illogical to keep them here," Keiji repeated, still quite calm in the face of the full bulk of Tokuzen Kozue. "It's too much work to feed and transport prisoners when we're not even supposed to keep them in the first place. Our employer wants them for himself, and so we let them go free."
Kozue snarled, "No hanyou tells me what to do!"
Keiji did not flinch. "But his mother can. The prisoners go free."
This chapter's pretty short, sorry for that, but they'll get much longer when Sanzo awakens again. (Yeah, he's survived the night...)
When you see the pronoun "Ou-san" I just kinda flubbed that - remember episode 9 where Gojyo addresses the mysterious (at that time) Dokugakuji as "ou-san"? Yeah, that's where I stole it - at this point, the addresser is unsure of the age of the addressee, and we all know Gojyo's got a minor complex about onii-san versus ojii-san. It didn't seem like him to venture a guess ^.^
Enjoy
***
"Ohayo, ou-san."
The greeting was enough to shatter the silence and scatter the thoughts so carefully garnered in the darkness. As the spectator stood silent, the voice continued.
"We're staying in here out of the goodness of our hearts. Your hospitality's not the best. Waking me up before sunrise? Your damn' torch died before even midnight besides."
Keiji spoke into the darkness, his eyes finally adjusting without the aid of stars and moon and imminent sunrise. "You can't see outside."
"I can -feel- midnight, ou-san." The speaker was the redhead, the hanyou that had so deeply disturbed Keiji the first time they had locked eyes. He was the only one sitting, crouched over his knees and staring into the direction from which Keiji's voice had come. "Let's have a talk, you and I."
"You want to bargain?"
"To get to know you." The redhead cocked his head to the side, hair obscuring his face. Though, even to Keiji, it was hardly necessary in the pitch. His face was a mess of shadows no matter what. "We're brothers, ne? Someone said we were like twins." His voice held a note of teasing, of playful jibe completely incongruous to the circumstances. He smiled then, slow and easy, like he had all the time in the world to just chat.
One of his companions groaned, soft and light, reaching up to probe at his own face. The redhead hissed softly to quiet him, putting out a hand and touching him. The gentle connection of hand to shoulder lasted only a split second, hardly enough to disturb the air around them, but it was enough. The man on the ground slowly relaxed every muscle, feigning tumultuous sleep and scratching at his shoulder. As if Keiji couldn't tell.
"So, onii-san," the redhead continued in a tone meant to provoke. The name struck a chord not only of familiarity but it brought his similarity to Keiji into shocking relief. "This is a nice little shindig you've got. All yours?"
Keiji stood silent, unsure of how to respond without killing or being killed. He didn't doubt the redhead at least could break free and kill him. And he was the only person he really cared for anyway, so Keiji didn't hold great stock in saving any other lives but his own.
"I'm guessing, because you granted us our lives, ne? Tell me, was it your mother?" The redhead smiled. "It was my father. Come on, onii-san, open up."
"Mother," Keiji found himself whispering, knowing not only the intention of the question but the truth behind its vagueness. He hated that he answered, hated all of them for knowing and flaunting it in their ways. The blonde Sanzo was still, comatose, and his eyelids were shut over his beautiful eyes. And yet violet was so much better than fury-red, fire-red. Keiji-red.
"She's letting you live on her name. Isn't she. You're a mutt and they listen to you. She's got to scare the fuck out of them for you to be able to do that. Does she love you?"
"I hate her." The words were out before Keiji could stop them, and he slammed his fists against the sturdy front of the pen. This thing, this mutt like him was making him talk. Without his consent, he was talking to someone who should...who should already understand.
In the face of the onslaught, Keiji's brother, the man that called him onii-san only said, "Oh."
But his fingers curled in the bloody dirt by his sides, ripping fingernails in the cold, packed earth.
*
"What?!"
"It is illogical to keep them here," Keiji repeated, still quite calm in the face of the full bulk of Tokuzen Kozue. "It's too much work to feed and transport prisoners when we're not even supposed to keep them in the first place. Our employer wants them for himself, and so we let them go free."
Kozue snarled, "No hanyou tells me what to do!"
Keiji did not flinch. "But his mother can. The prisoners go free."