seven a.m. new record. what the HELL is wrong with me.
for all those sanzo fans out there who feel i've been neglecting him, i hope this goes a little way towards getting you to forgive me.
and now, i REALLY will disappear from ff.net for a while *sheepish*
Sense of Direction
by Aki
He hadn't turned left, he'd turned right at the brothel, the sixth--at least--that he'd passed since coming out from the inn. That had to have been it.
His sense of direction had never been the best, a fact he was careful to conceal; after all, if Hakkai didn't mind driving all the time, then who was he to complain? Now he was completely bemused by the narrow, ill-lit streets that seemed almost organic in their bends and turns. He swore, and glared at the darkness and the blocks that sprawled in it as if he could compel them to rearrange into a more linear route. Preferably one that would lead him back to his room, back to a warm fire and a cold beer. He found himself thinking almost longingly of the sounds of eternal bickering; even that had to be better than the rain.
His thin sandals were utterly useless, water slipping in and out from under his soles with every step. The cobblestones were simultenously slick hazards and sharp edges bruising his aching feet. The sky had been clear when he'd stepped out, or as close to clear as it could be in a city littered with the smoke of bonfires and smudged by flickering torchlight. When he'd stepped out of the information bureau small muddy rivers were already coursing through the street. Now the rain had soaked through his robes and plastered his hair to his face. Every inch of him felt damp and he scowled, hoping that the map would still be readable by the time he got back.
There were still people on the streets, although it was late and rain was coming down with a deceptively sedate pour. Doors opened randomly to disgorge spurts of light and noise. He sidestepped the more rambunctious pedestrians gingerly, nose wrinkling at the sight of one vomiting into the gutter while his companions sang the kind of songs that Gojyo probably knew.
All around him, umbrellas bloomed and bobbed.
He resented them briefly for having places to go back to and knowing how to get there, or at least being drunk enough not to care. He caught himself feeling resentful and proceeded to recite fragments of the heart sutra. It calmed him until his left foot sunk into a particularly deep puddle where a pothole had been. The sudden chill of his ankle caused him to break off, swearing.
The inn had to be close. The travel center was only fifteen minutes from where they were staying. He'd walked fast and gotten there in ten. He was sure he'd come across it in another block. He--
He'd seen that shoe shop before.
He'd gone in a circle.
The worst of it, he reflected, was that he couldn't think of anything to shoot.
He could feel the tension pulling his shoulderblades up, felt his mouth thin into a line as he walked on. They'd driven another two hundred miles that day, and been forced to stop at one border to argue with officials over whether they were allowed in without proper documentation. Apparently there'd been an incident involving the last high-ranking "religious figure." His head ached with the recall of the small office where they'd been forced to wait, his knuckles tightening by the minute. He'd envied Hakkai, with his apparently unflappable calm, who could read society magazines by the hour. He'd envied Goku, who could be fascinated by the gadgets on an imported coffee maker. If the receptionist had been a shade less glacial, perhaps he would even have envied Gojyo.
The delay had held them back for over an hour and they'd come into the city long after dark. He'd been silent and tense, then silent and relieved when they'd finally found their way into a room. The relief had lasted until he'd realized that they'd run off the left edge of the latest map and that the travel center would be closed the next day.
And now he was being jostled by drunks and tramps in the rain. He gritted his teeth.
Five more minutes, perhaps, and he'd ask for directions.
An ill-timed step brought him in line with a roof that chose that moment to overflow its gutters. He gasped and spluttered as the cold water splashed down the back of his neck, eyes widening in shock.
There was someone behind this, he was sure. That--woman--was probably laughing somewhere above the rainclouds.
Was this the same brothel? Why did they all look the same?
By now, the streets all looked equally familiar. And unfamiliar.
"OIIII! SANZOOOU," and his head snapped up before he could tell it not to. He felt a burgeoning relief and made sure to look particularly irritated as he swung around.
"Bakazaru. What're you doing out here?" Goku came bounding up, dodging around pedestrians. The monkey seemed not at all disturbed that the rain was soaking through his shoes and drenching his thin cotton shirt, outlining the angles of his not-yet-filled-out frame. In one hand he carried an umbrella, although it was unopened.
He snorted. "You know how to use one of those, don't you?"
Goku, unfortunately, seemed not to have heard. "Hakkai said you were taking too long, and he was worried that you were getting rained on."
"The man will never learn to mind his own business," he muttered.
"Anyhow, let's go back. Gojyo wants to play mahjong, and I think he needed to borrow your credit card."
At that, his cold fingers slid into his sleeve and gripped the piece of plastic so tightly that the edges cut into his flesh.
"I WAS going back, bakazaru," he growled, trailing discreetly behind the boy. He noted with some relief that he had been going in the right directions. For the last two blocks, anyhow.
Not that the monkey would have noticed otherwise. Goku was busy fumbling at the umbrella. "What's the difference, I'm soaked anyway," he commented sourly. Goku continued to fumble, grinning as the spines slid up and out. He held it carefully over the two of them, except when he detoured around puddles and moved on and off the sidewalk, which occurred roughly every three steps.
One day, he reflected, he would have to teach the boy how to listen. And how to walk in a straight line.
"You DO know your way home, don't you?" he asked sharply.
Goku pulled a face. "I'm not THAT stupid. Besides, Hakkai says I have a good sense of direction. I found you, didn't I?"
He clutched the soggy map and scowled, saying nothing.
After all, it was true.
~*~
i wrote this in like twenty minutes flat, give or take a few, so the QC's bound to be nonexistent. sorry if it jarred ya. ^^;;
*grin* be magniminious anyway and feedback me for this piece of gratuitous nonsense?
for all those sanzo fans out there who feel i've been neglecting him, i hope this goes a little way towards getting you to forgive me.
and now, i REALLY will disappear from ff.net for a while *sheepish*
Sense of Direction
by Aki
He hadn't turned left, he'd turned right at the brothel, the sixth--at least--that he'd passed since coming out from the inn. That had to have been it.
His sense of direction had never been the best, a fact he was careful to conceal; after all, if Hakkai didn't mind driving all the time, then who was he to complain? Now he was completely bemused by the narrow, ill-lit streets that seemed almost organic in their bends and turns. He swore, and glared at the darkness and the blocks that sprawled in it as if he could compel them to rearrange into a more linear route. Preferably one that would lead him back to his room, back to a warm fire and a cold beer. He found himself thinking almost longingly of the sounds of eternal bickering; even that had to be better than the rain.
His thin sandals were utterly useless, water slipping in and out from under his soles with every step. The cobblestones were simultenously slick hazards and sharp edges bruising his aching feet. The sky had been clear when he'd stepped out, or as close to clear as it could be in a city littered with the smoke of bonfires and smudged by flickering torchlight. When he'd stepped out of the information bureau small muddy rivers were already coursing through the street. Now the rain had soaked through his robes and plastered his hair to his face. Every inch of him felt damp and he scowled, hoping that the map would still be readable by the time he got back.
There were still people on the streets, although it was late and rain was coming down with a deceptively sedate pour. Doors opened randomly to disgorge spurts of light and noise. He sidestepped the more rambunctious pedestrians gingerly, nose wrinkling at the sight of one vomiting into the gutter while his companions sang the kind of songs that Gojyo probably knew.
All around him, umbrellas bloomed and bobbed.
He resented them briefly for having places to go back to and knowing how to get there, or at least being drunk enough not to care. He caught himself feeling resentful and proceeded to recite fragments of the heart sutra. It calmed him until his left foot sunk into a particularly deep puddle where a pothole had been. The sudden chill of his ankle caused him to break off, swearing.
The inn had to be close. The travel center was only fifteen minutes from where they were staying. He'd walked fast and gotten there in ten. He was sure he'd come across it in another block. He--
He'd seen that shoe shop before.
He'd gone in a circle.
The worst of it, he reflected, was that he couldn't think of anything to shoot.
He could feel the tension pulling his shoulderblades up, felt his mouth thin into a line as he walked on. They'd driven another two hundred miles that day, and been forced to stop at one border to argue with officials over whether they were allowed in without proper documentation. Apparently there'd been an incident involving the last high-ranking "religious figure." His head ached with the recall of the small office where they'd been forced to wait, his knuckles tightening by the minute. He'd envied Hakkai, with his apparently unflappable calm, who could read society magazines by the hour. He'd envied Goku, who could be fascinated by the gadgets on an imported coffee maker. If the receptionist had been a shade less glacial, perhaps he would even have envied Gojyo.
The delay had held them back for over an hour and they'd come into the city long after dark. He'd been silent and tense, then silent and relieved when they'd finally found their way into a room. The relief had lasted until he'd realized that they'd run off the left edge of the latest map and that the travel center would be closed the next day.
And now he was being jostled by drunks and tramps in the rain. He gritted his teeth.
Five more minutes, perhaps, and he'd ask for directions.
An ill-timed step brought him in line with a roof that chose that moment to overflow its gutters. He gasped and spluttered as the cold water splashed down the back of his neck, eyes widening in shock.
There was someone behind this, he was sure. That--woman--was probably laughing somewhere above the rainclouds.
Was this the same brothel? Why did they all look the same?
By now, the streets all looked equally familiar. And unfamiliar.
"OIIII! SANZOOOU," and his head snapped up before he could tell it not to. He felt a burgeoning relief and made sure to look particularly irritated as he swung around.
"Bakazaru. What're you doing out here?" Goku came bounding up, dodging around pedestrians. The monkey seemed not at all disturbed that the rain was soaking through his shoes and drenching his thin cotton shirt, outlining the angles of his not-yet-filled-out frame. In one hand he carried an umbrella, although it was unopened.
He snorted. "You know how to use one of those, don't you?"
Goku, unfortunately, seemed not to have heard. "Hakkai said you were taking too long, and he was worried that you were getting rained on."
"The man will never learn to mind his own business," he muttered.
"Anyhow, let's go back. Gojyo wants to play mahjong, and I think he needed to borrow your credit card."
At that, his cold fingers slid into his sleeve and gripped the piece of plastic so tightly that the edges cut into his flesh.
"I WAS going back, bakazaru," he growled, trailing discreetly behind the boy. He noted with some relief that he had been going in the right directions. For the last two blocks, anyhow.
Not that the monkey would have noticed otherwise. Goku was busy fumbling at the umbrella. "What's the difference, I'm soaked anyway," he commented sourly. Goku continued to fumble, grinning as the spines slid up and out. He held it carefully over the two of them, except when he detoured around puddles and moved on and off the sidewalk, which occurred roughly every three steps.
One day, he reflected, he would have to teach the boy how to listen. And how to walk in a straight line.
"You DO know your way home, don't you?" he asked sharply.
Goku pulled a face. "I'm not THAT stupid. Besides, Hakkai says I have a good sense of direction. I found you, didn't I?"
He clutched the soggy map and scowled, saying nothing.
After all, it was true.
~*~
i wrote this in like twenty minutes flat, give or take a few, so the QC's bound to be nonexistent. sorry if it jarred ya. ^^;;
*grin* be magniminious anyway and feedback me for this piece of gratuitous nonsense?