~* Regret Nothing *~
By Zaria
"With each celebration of maturity, there is a pang of loss"
- Louise Erdich
Chapter Three: Only Memories Remain
[A/N: short recap {because the author couldn't choose a part to re- tell, if all else fails- go back and try again.}: we left Bulma in a drug enduced sleep after she found out Yamcha's dead (watches the reader cheer, *sweat drop* uh... *declines further comment*). {Hum, she seems to be falling asleep a lot lately. (Who can tell the author has insomnia?)}]
~*~
My skull was cracking into numerous pieces.
Distantly, very distantly. a sound echoes through the cracks splitting along my head.
A faintly familiar sound.. One that I should recognize.
Opening my eyes a slit, half the size of the one running along my skull, I can see only faded blurs dancing like the ideas at the back of my mind.
Opening my eyes wider I see two inky black specks and a glowing sliver among splotches of different dulled colors.
I blink a few times and try to focus through the layers time has condensed itself in to.
The blur the inky specks are stained on moves a section of itself nearer to me then landed on something near, or far, from my head. I cannot really tell- everything is swaying to some music I cannot hear.
The swirly movement left in the air by the Gray Blur in the air is very.
hypnotizing.
There is a loud, distant clunk that echoes through my mind for a long time giving me time to try to place it..
I cannot. The Gray Blur retreated from where it landed but it left part of itself behind.?
I try to sit up and ignore my protesting mussels against the movement too quickly proceeding after the infusion of poison and alcohol.
Once half seated I look at the piece of itself that the Gray Blur left behind.
With my movement blood started to rush to my head, almost overwhelming me but after awhile the sensation passed and the blurs condensed and time was no longer visible. Though that did nothing to relive my splitting headache.
The part of itself the blur left behind stopped dancing and took on the colour and form of a kocha cup with steam defying gravity to meet my nose.
Because the invisible web of logic and understanding, which suddenly wasn't, now told me to look at what was once known as the Gray Blur, I did.
The inky black specks I had first seen revealed themselves to be the piercing, disapproving eyes of the one person alive whose opinion I valued.
Izamami.
"I."I began but trailed off, not being able to think up a good excuse for my actions or, at least a cover-up. I might have been able to if the blood pounding at my head left room for any other conscious thoughts.
"What you are currently, is beyond the point," she began with a stern, unyielding voice, "it is what you have done."
I slightly bit my lip, dreading what is sure to come and not noticing the way my body seemed to fold up as it slowly, very slowly, began rocking back and forth, back and forth.
"However," She continued what would, undoubtedly, eventually be something a kin to a death sentence in that same hard voice, "what's done is done and that cannot be change. I cannot force you to learn from your mistakes- only hope that these lessons that life teaches will not have to be learned the hard way for you."
I had stopped my slow rocking and, completely disbelieving my luck, looked up at her in utter disbelief.
"Now Bulma," she commanded, " I want you to drink you kocha* and report to the kitchen with empty cup in hand, then you will proceed with the bear remainder of the day as usual. In other words the tea will make you feel better and I wish to hear none of you complaining on that or any other matter for the rest of the day." With lips pulled tight and loose cheeks gaunt and that final word she spun on her heal and walked out of the room.
I stared blankly after her for a while, for how long I couldn't tell because of my skewed perspective on time and, well, life in general.
~*~
Eventually I moved again, to raise the fragile cup and saucer to my bite- scared lips.
Not kicking the glass back yet I inhale the steam while trying not to fall back into my mattress as the steam dispels the headache and mends the metaphorical rips in the side of my head.
However the poison I had willingly imbibed did nothing to help my memory.. I couldn't even remember why I had taken the damn thing.
Drawing my eyebrows together in contemplation I attempt to remember what exactly what had occurred to arise such misery in the sheltered life I now live.
What had I been doing beforehand?
Furrowing my eyebrows on thought I concentrated all my energy on my memory skills.
I . I was breaking a rule of a sort, some reliable memory- that little clue didn't help in the slightest, I was always working in secret- disregarding every rule in the book.
Looking around the dimly lit single roomed closet I call my own I knew only all to well I see someone, namely Izamami, had tidily up. The clothes were folded and, along with my rucksack, against the wall. along with a thick book.. A book?
Why did I have a book here? And why was it out in the open?
Oh.
I had 'borrowed' it from Izamami and when she had cleaned my roomed my room, probably out of boredom, she had found it. Kuso. Deep kuso.
When I had taken it out of her room I had almost been caught, so I hid it under my clothes and . and.
Damn, what had happened? One day I will learn to write things down but until then I have to work on my memory skills.
Let me see. Izamami had come back from the market with news. someone had died. or been injured.
I strained my memory to recall what had happened, I couldn't even remember past hiding the book without the world lurching beneath my feet.
Raising the glass with shaking hands to my parched lips and silently sipping the scolding contents, ignoring the way the liquid oddly contrasting with my mood.
~*~
After a long while my only excuse for avoiding society was drained along was the glass in my shaking hands. Slowly stretching my legs, ignoring the brittle sounds as the joints began to grow re-accustom to movement; also ignoring the way the entire house was acting as a ship in a storm tossed sea. I began to make my way to the food for my body had gone so long without it - judging by the moon slightly illuminating the room with an eerie, unearthly glow the cast ghastly shadows in every corner.
The kitchen was not empty, as I had expected, Izamami was sweating over a large boiling pot and she feverishly added ingredients while also trying to reread the recipe in on of her larger hand-written books.
Immediately some emotion a kin to guilt and pity overcame me as I rushed to her side willing, for once, to do the job I had been hired to do.
~*~
Three hours later I could be found lost in the fray of ingredients flying through the steam clogged room.
"Izamami-san?" I panted into the thick air impairing my respiratory system, vision and brain, "could. we per-perhaps call it quits for the night?" my voice squeaked slightly on the word 'night' as to prove my fatigue was genuine.
Even through the impenetrable steam I could still see the still disapproving eyes glowing with the dim light of the fire.
"At least break.?" I pleaded, growing desperate.
I squinted in her general direction, wondering if I was imagining the swilling motion of the steam around her short figure.
I stumbled into the side of the basin full of soapy water as my surroundings seemed to swirl around my head.
Collapsing into an exhausted heap on the worn floor I think only of everything out of my reach.
Sleep.
Yamcha.
Freedom.
Yamcha.
Quiet.
Yamcha.
Peace.
A foot prods my side, urging me to get up. Groaning and willing myself the energy to move from my none-too-comfortable position on the ground, I look up past the feet, the wrinkles in the shawl, past the bosom, past the broaches and flared nose, and look into piercing dark eyes.
Flinching, I look almost completely away, leaving one eye squinted open and the rest of my upper body tenses in preparation for the barrage of reprimands commenting on every flaw in my being- there were many. I just haven't bothered to count them all yet.
With that last note of my perfect being being flawed I too flare my nostrils and clench my teeth in determination.
But the words uttered next were not my own - they had a much greater impact on me then any words I could utter, or would have had Izamami been a little less cryptic.
"You're not going." It wasn't a question, it wasn't even a statement; it was more of a demand.
"Pardon? No going- where? To sleep on the ground?" what is she thinking? Sitting up I continued "Such was never my intention, ya know. It was my intention, however, to collapse out of not having eaten anything all day. I'm not anorexic, I do need to eat- just never got the chance."
I then chose to personify 'spoiled brat' by crossing my legs and arms, sticking my nose in the air and frowning like a caricature.
Her glare burned my form for a few seconds that were filled with the sound of her teeth slowly grinding together before a sigh and defeated "fine go wash up I'll fix something to eat."
My whole mood brightened. "Thanks." I sang out before heading to the wash room.
~*~
I quietly opened the creaky door and glanced once around the small moonlit room before scampering away to fetch a candle . or twelve.
Returning to the still eerie building a good twenty feet [about seven meters] separated by a stretch of bare land with only a worn down path leading to it.
I tried not to stumble as I made my way down the rock path and succeeded. Though my triumph did not to quash my misgivings about the rickety building that contained nothing but a pump, small wash basin and somewhere where you might heat the water - the outhouse was a separate building.
Closing the door behind me with my foot I kneel down and drop the candles, rag, flint, and tinder trying not to break a single candle, they were more expensive then I could afford to pay back.
I lit one while attempting not to set the dry building alight also and proceeded to drip enough wax one the floor to hold up a candle, place one in the make-shift holder and light that candle. and repeated it six time until I ran out of candles.
Standing straight and surveying my handy work I gathered as much energy left in me and marched up to the pump and bucket.
~*~
An hour later my aching arms were attempting to lift the second to last bucket I had to pump over to the rest to the cold water all the while wishing I had time to heat it up.
Leaving the last bucket of water by the side of the raised tub I let my clothes cascade to the ground letting the cold breeze floating through the planks of wood sheltering me from the bare elements from outside tickle my skin.
Not entirely enjoying the sensation I scurried over the washtub and dipped one toe into the slightly illuminated water by the moonlight creeping through the rafters and the dim light by the bunt down candles.
A wave of goosebumps sweep over my body, now shivering slightly I slip into the cold liquid.
Only briefly regretting the fact I couldn't heat the water I slipped into the cool, soothing liquid- Ignoring the fact the as soon as I entered the tub it overflowed for my own mental health and how the back ridge of the metal basin pressed sharply into my back.
Not being to put off by the frigid water, mostly because- though no mater how mush I dreamed of warm baths, in reality I had only had one- when I was eight. Even though it may have been my young, innocent, naive mind that had made the memory so enjoyable but I still savor it as a starved man might a last scrap of food.
Taking refuge in that blissful memory.. The silent waking, my mother's face smiling, the sneaking, the moment when I realized my father was gone for the day.
.And the games and singing that had followed.
.And the bath..
I would always remember that bath- the blissful warm enveloping my body, the soothing sent of bath salts, my mother there talking and laughing, all the while heating water to warm the bath. All that innocence compiled into one day.
It had been perfect.
No father.
No schedule.
Just freedom and family, or rather motherly love.
That night I had gotten to sleep with only music my mother played to help me drift to sleep.
Not the usually yelling and screaming, no accusations, and no abuse. I had thought then that my father had gone away to a neighboring business, now I knew better.
Putting any thought of that, that . words could not describe the ire and disgust I felt towards that man.
Humming the same repetitive tune my mother played that night to sooth my anger directed at, as far as I was concerned, a man whom never existed.
Replaying the memory of that day in my mind, I groped for the rough bar of soap- relishing the course feeling against my skin.
~*~
(End chapter three)
* Tea in Japanese according to O-Kun's friend
*Blinks* what did I do now?
Well, I am sorry, no Veggie this chapter! *Dodges rotten vegetables... err. fruit* as long as it's not canned rotten . fruits.?
*Well armed reader chucks a can of rotten fruits (do they exist. O.o?) *
Owwwwww- ( @ . @ )
*Attempts to follow the birds flying around head*
*Faints* X-X
*Editor: presses the 'reload' button at the top of the page. *
*Zaria stands up rubbing head* Ow! ( #_^;; )
Hey! Would you rather my have ranted of for another five pages?
Veggie WILL be in the next chappie!
Hey if Ya don't believe me then come back when I update (this time without any week-long-no-writing-breaks)!
In fact I even have an update list now ^_^! THANK YOU SOOOO- MUCH KELLY FOR THE GREAT IDEA!!! ^_^She gets all the credit for that one! If you want to be added just email me at:
Zaria_is@hotmail.com
Or just leave your email address in a review, I'll do the rest..
Feel free to do to the lower left-hand corner, press the 'go' button and send me a review (at lest one of the windows that pops up is the review box)[you wouldn't believe how long it took me to figure that one out]!!!
Or a life.
I could use one of those.
Shout outs:
Tara - Glad ya liked. if you thought last chappie was sad just wait and see what I'm gonna do with the rest of this fic ~_^. (next time I'll give ya 2 copies to edit when you lose the first one, lol)
O-Kun - don't go over inflate our ego about being a editor of mine- I have two other and myself (but Kami knows how good well I spell and how good I am at grammar) XP
Amy - Really?! Wow. Is that hard? Thanks!
LiXxy - lol, alright- I read it, I read it. No need to bite my head off.
Kelly - I thank you again for that brilliant idea of an update list! ^_^
By Zaria
"With each celebration of maturity, there is a pang of loss"
- Louise Erdich
Chapter Three: Only Memories Remain
[A/N: short recap {because the author couldn't choose a part to re- tell, if all else fails- go back and try again.}: we left Bulma in a drug enduced sleep after she found out Yamcha's dead (watches the reader cheer, *sweat drop* uh... *declines further comment*). {Hum, she seems to be falling asleep a lot lately. (Who can tell the author has insomnia?)}]
~*~
My skull was cracking into numerous pieces.
Distantly, very distantly. a sound echoes through the cracks splitting along my head.
A faintly familiar sound.. One that I should recognize.
Opening my eyes a slit, half the size of the one running along my skull, I can see only faded blurs dancing like the ideas at the back of my mind.
Opening my eyes wider I see two inky black specks and a glowing sliver among splotches of different dulled colors.
I blink a few times and try to focus through the layers time has condensed itself in to.
The blur the inky specks are stained on moves a section of itself nearer to me then landed on something near, or far, from my head. I cannot really tell- everything is swaying to some music I cannot hear.
The swirly movement left in the air by the Gray Blur in the air is very.
hypnotizing.
There is a loud, distant clunk that echoes through my mind for a long time giving me time to try to place it..
I cannot. The Gray Blur retreated from where it landed but it left part of itself behind.?
I try to sit up and ignore my protesting mussels against the movement too quickly proceeding after the infusion of poison and alcohol.
Once half seated I look at the piece of itself that the Gray Blur left behind.
With my movement blood started to rush to my head, almost overwhelming me but after awhile the sensation passed and the blurs condensed and time was no longer visible. Though that did nothing to relive my splitting headache.
The part of itself the blur left behind stopped dancing and took on the colour and form of a kocha cup with steam defying gravity to meet my nose.
Because the invisible web of logic and understanding, which suddenly wasn't, now told me to look at what was once known as the Gray Blur, I did.
The inky black specks I had first seen revealed themselves to be the piercing, disapproving eyes of the one person alive whose opinion I valued.
Izamami.
"I."I began but trailed off, not being able to think up a good excuse for my actions or, at least a cover-up. I might have been able to if the blood pounding at my head left room for any other conscious thoughts.
"What you are currently, is beyond the point," she began with a stern, unyielding voice, "it is what you have done."
I slightly bit my lip, dreading what is sure to come and not noticing the way my body seemed to fold up as it slowly, very slowly, began rocking back and forth, back and forth.
"However," She continued what would, undoubtedly, eventually be something a kin to a death sentence in that same hard voice, "what's done is done and that cannot be change. I cannot force you to learn from your mistakes- only hope that these lessons that life teaches will not have to be learned the hard way for you."
I had stopped my slow rocking and, completely disbelieving my luck, looked up at her in utter disbelief.
"Now Bulma," she commanded, " I want you to drink you kocha* and report to the kitchen with empty cup in hand, then you will proceed with the bear remainder of the day as usual. In other words the tea will make you feel better and I wish to hear none of you complaining on that or any other matter for the rest of the day." With lips pulled tight and loose cheeks gaunt and that final word she spun on her heal and walked out of the room.
I stared blankly after her for a while, for how long I couldn't tell because of my skewed perspective on time and, well, life in general.
~*~
Eventually I moved again, to raise the fragile cup and saucer to my bite- scared lips.
Not kicking the glass back yet I inhale the steam while trying not to fall back into my mattress as the steam dispels the headache and mends the metaphorical rips in the side of my head.
However the poison I had willingly imbibed did nothing to help my memory.. I couldn't even remember why I had taken the damn thing.
Drawing my eyebrows together in contemplation I attempt to remember what exactly what had occurred to arise such misery in the sheltered life I now live.
What had I been doing beforehand?
Furrowing my eyebrows on thought I concentrated all my energy on my memory skills.
I . I was breaking a rule of a sort, some reliable memory- that little clue didn't help in the slightest, I was always working in secret- disregarding every rule in the book.
Looking around the dimly lit single roomed closet I call my own I knew only all to well I see someone, namely Izamami, had tidily up. The clothes were folded and, along with my rucksack, against the wall. along with a thick book.. A book?
Why did I have a book here? And why was it out in the open?
Oh.
I had 'borrowed' it from Izamami and when she had cleaned my roomed my room, probably out of boredom, she had found it. Kuso. Deep kuso.
When I had taken it out of her room I had almost been caught, so I hid it under my clothes and . and.
Damn, what had happened? One day I will learn to write things down but until then I have to work on my memory skills.
Let me see. Izamami had come back from the market with news. someone had died. or been injured.
I strained my memory to recall what had happened, I couldn't even remember past hiding the book without the world lurching beneath my feet.
Raising the glass with shaking hands to my parched lips and silently sipping the scolding contents, ignoring the way the liquid oddly contrasting with my mood.
~*~
After a long while my only excuse for avoiding society was drained along was the glass in my shaking hands. Slowly stretching my legs, ignoring the brittle sounds as the joints began to grow re-accustom to movement; also ignoring the way the entire house was acting as a ship in a storm tossed sea. I began to make my way to the food for my body had gone so long without it - judging by the moon slightly illuminating the room with an eerie, unearthly glow the cast ghastly shadows in every corner.
The kitchen was not empty, as I had expected, Izamami was sweating over a large boiling pot and she feverishly added ingredients while also trying to reread the recipe in on of her larger hand-written books.
Immediately some emotion a kin to guilt and pity overcame me as I rushed to her side willing, for once, to do the job I had been hired to do.
~*~
Three hours later I could be found lost in the fray of ingredients flying through the steam clogged room.
"Izamami-san?" I panted into the thick air impairing my respiratory system, vision and brain, "could. we per-perhaps call it quits for the night?" my voice squeaked slightly on the word 'night' as to prove my fatigue was genuine.
Even through the impenetrable steam I could still see the still disapproving eyes glowing with the dim light of the fire.
"At least break.?" I pleaded, growing desperate.
I squinted in her general direction, wondering if I was imagining the swilling motion of the steam around her short figure.
I stumbled into the side of the basin full of soapy water as my surroundings seemed to swirl around my head.
Collapsing into an exhausted heap on the worn floor I think only of everything out of my reach.
Sleep.
Yamcha.
Freedom.
Yamcha.
Quiet.
Yamcha.
Peace.
A foot prods my side, urging me to get up. Groaning and willing myself the energy to move from my none-too-comfortable position on the ground, I look up past the feet, the wrinkles in the shawl, past the bosom, past the broaches and flared nose, and look into piercing dark eyes.
Flinching, I look almost completely away, leaving one eye squinted open and the rest of my upper body tenses in preparation for the barrage of reprimands commenting on every flaw in my being- there were many. I just haven't bothered to count them all yet.
With that last note of my perfect being being flawed I too flare my nostrils and clench my teeth in determination.
But the words uttered next were not my own - they had a much greater impact on me then any words I could utter, or would have had Izamami been a little less cryptic.
"You're not going." It wasn't a question, it wasn't even a statement; it was more of a demand.
"Pardon? No going- where? To sleep on the ground?" what is she thinking? Sitting up I continued "Such was never my intention, ya know. It was my intention, however, to collapse out of not having eaten anything all day. I'm not anorexic, I do need to eat- just never got the chance."
I then chose to personify 'spoiled brat' by crossing my legs and arms, sticking my nose in the air and frowning like a caricature.
Her glare burned my form for a few seconds that were filled with the sound of her teeth slowly grinding together before a sigh and defeated "fine go wash up I'll fix something to eat."
My whole mood brightened. "Thanks." I sang out before heading to the wash room.
~*~
I quietly opened the creaky door and glanced once around the small moonlit room before scampering away to fetch a candle . or twelve.
Returning to the still eerie building a good twenty feet [about seven meters] separated by a stretch of bare land with only a worn down path leading to it.
I tried not to stumble as I made my way down the rock path and succeeded. Though my triumph did not to quash my misgivings about the rickety building that contained nothing but a pump, small wash basin and somewhere where you might heat the water - the outhouse was a separate building.
Closing the door behind me with my foot I kneel down and drop the candles, rag, flint, and tinder trying not to break a single candle, they were more expensive then I could afford to pay back.
I lit one while attempting not to set the dry building alight also and proceeded to drip enough wax one the floor to hold up a candle, place one in the make-shift holder and light that candle. and repeated it six time until I ran out of candles.
Standing straight and surveying my handy work I gathered as much energy left in me and marched up to the pump and bucket.
~*~
An hour later my aching arms were attempting to lift the second to last bucket I had to pump over to the rest to the cold water all the while wishing I had time to heat it up.
Leaving the last bucket of water by the side of the raised tub I let my clothes cascade to the ground letting the cold breeze floating through the planks of wood sheltering me from the bare elements from outside tickle my skin.
Not entirely enjoying the sensation I scurried over the washtub and dipped one toe into the slightly illuminated water by the moonlight creeping through the rafters and the dim light by the bunt down candles.
A wave of goosebumps sweep over my body, now shivering slightly I slip into the cold liquid.
Only briefly regretting the fact I couldn't heat the water I slipped into the cool, soothing liquid- Ignoring the fact the as soon as I entered the tub it overflowed for my own mental health and how the back ridge of the metal basin pressed sharply into my back.
Not being to put off by the frigid water, mostly because- though no mater how mush I dreamed of warm baths, in reality I had only had one- when I was eight. Even though it may have been my young, innocent, naive mind that had made the memory so enjoyable but I still savor it as a starved man might a last scrap of food.
Taking refuge in that blissful memory.. The silent waking, my mother's face smiling, the sneaking, the moment when I realized my father was gone for the day.
.And the games and singing that had followed.
.And the bath..
I would always remember that bath- the blissful warm enveloping my body, the soothing sent of bath salts, my mother there talking and laughing, all the while heating water to warm the bath. All that innocence compiled into one day.
It had been perfect.
No father.
No schedule.
Just freedom and family, or rather motherly love.
That night I had gotten to sleep with only music my mother played to help me drift to sleep.
Not the usually yelling and screaming, no accusations, and no abuse. I had thought then that my father had gone away to a neighboring business, now I knew better.
Putting any thought of that, that . words could not describe the ire and disgust I felt towards that man.
Humming the same repetitive tune my mother played that night to sooth my anger directed at, as far as I was concerned, a man whom never existed.
Replaying the memory of that day in my mind, I groped for the rough bar of soap- relishing the course feeling against my skin.
~*~
(End chapter three)
* Tea in Japanese according to O-Kun's friend
*Blinks* what did I do now?
Well, I am sorry, no Veggie this chapter! *Dodges rotten vegetables... err. fruit* as long as it's not canned rotten . fruits.?
*Well armed reader chucks a can of rotten fruits (do they exist. O.o?) *
Owwwwww- ( @ . @ )
*Attempts to follow the birds flying around head*
*Faints* X-X
*Editor: presses the 'reload' button at the top of the page. *
*Zaria stands up rubbing head* Ow! ( #_^;; )
Hey! Would you rather my have ranted of for another five pages?
Veggie WILL be in the next chappie!
Hey if Ya don't believe me then come back when I update (this time without any week-long-no-writing-breaks)!
In fact I even have an update list now ^_^! THANK YOU SOOOO- MUCH KELLY FOR THE GREAT IDEA!!! ^_^She gets all the credit for that one! If you want to be added just email me at:
Zaria_is@hotmail.com
Or just leave your email address in a review, I'll do the rest..
Feel free to do to the lower left-hand corner, press the 'go' button and send me a review (at lest one of the windows that pops up is the review box)[you wouldn't believe how long it took me to figure that one out]!!!
Or a life.
I could use one of those.
Shout outs:
Tara - Glad ya liked. if you thought last chappie was sad just wait and see what I'm gonna do with the rest of this fic ~_^. (next time I'll give ya 2 copies to edit when you lose the first one, lol)
O-Kun - don't go over inflate our ego about being a editor of mine- I have two other and myself (but Kami knows how good well I spell and how good I am at grammar) XP
Amy - Really?! Wow. Is that hard? Thanks!
LiXxy - lol, alright- I read it, I read it. No need to bite my head off.
Kelly - I thank you again for that brilliant idea of an update list! ^_^
