Drafting
Tenpou carried in the tray of tea implements, and then stood there, looking blankly at Konzen's empty, pristine desk. "Where do I put it down?" he asked.
Konzen looked up at him and blinked. "I wasn't expecting you today. I'm busy." He paused, then remembered to add, "Sorry. Goku's outside. And why have you brought the tea in, anyhow?"
"It gave me an excuse to lock the door behind me," Tenpou said amiably. "We need to talk."
"Ah." It was annoying to have acquaintances bringing problems to him. Like those tiny dogs which the ladies of the court favoured, perhaps, tugging along unearthed bones twice their size and stinking with mud and corruption. Konzen brushed invisible dirt from his white silk gown, and gloomily wondered what was going to come next. Catastrophe seemed unlikely, as that would probably have involved Tenpou bursting through the door, sword in hand, and dragging him along, rather than stopping for tea. "Put it down. Have a seat. What do we need to talk about?"
Tenpou set the tray down in a ripple of tiny clinks, as the cups chimed against each other, then balanced a hip on the corner of the desk. He didn't try to light a cigarette. That in itself made Konzen uneasy. "You remember," he began, vaguely, "that you were actually becoming interested in current affairs in Heaven?"
"I was asking you what was happening. Yes." Konzen poured the tea precisely, taking care not to spill a drop.
"One might even have thought," Tenpou continued, eyes on Konzen's hands rather than on Konzen's face, "that you were concerned by some aspects of current events."
Konzen pushed one of the teacups across to him. "You're not usually this circumlocutory."
"Anh. We've known each other a while, haven't we?" Tenpou picked up his cup, and folded his hands around it thoughtfully. His gaze moved to Konzen's face, and Konzen found himself looking down in response, uncomfortable with something in the quality of the other man's eyes.
"Yes," he finally answered, when it became obvious that Tenpou wasn't going to continue otherwise. "So? What is it that you want to say to me with the door locked?" He suddenly understood, and it was surprisingly painful. "You've worked out a way to get the monkey back Down Below, is that it?" How strange that the words should be so hard to speak. He had always prided himself in uncompromising accuracy, even when he'd withdrawn himself from a Heaven that was too sordid for his discriminating tastes. Even if he was prepared to admit to caring about the stupid monkey's welfare, he hadn't expected it to be this difficult to . . .
. . . to let go . . .
"No," Tenpou said, and Konzen nearly spilled his tea in relief. "Not yet. Though if you feel it's urgent?"
"It can wait. What is it, then? Kenren in trouble again?" That would be a reassuring touch of normality.
"Not that either." Tenpou smiled at him. "I need your help, Konzen."
Konzen twitched, and crossed his legs defensively. "You're asking for my help," he said disbelievingly. "You never ask for my help."
"Well, no, but . . ."
"You go and get yourself beaten half to death and then you try to convince me that you were just playing at pro wrestling," he continued, an unspecified annoyance building inside him. "You . . ."
"Konzen," Tenpou broke in, eyes dark and serious, "I need your help."
"What with?" he temporised, trying to ignore the worry that was hiding behind the anger. And what if I fail?
"Anh. Some people wouldn't have asked that."
"No, they wouldn't, would they?" he snapped in response, and neatened a single piece of paper to calm his hands.
"I need you," Tenpou said deliberately, "to present a memorandum for me, supporting the election of the itan Homura of the Emperor's household as a second Toushin Taishi." He paused, then slid off the desk and came round behind Konzen to pat him helpfully on the back. "Careful, you'll choke on that tea."
Konzen spat out scalding liquid, put down the cup carefully so as not to break it, and swivelled round in his chair to glare up at Tenpou. "Are you out of your mind, Marshal?"
"Never more so," Tenpou replied gravely. "Or should that be never less so? You know, Down Below they say that genius is always regarded as close to insanity by the onlookers. It's in that scroll of commentaries by . . ."
Konzen grabbed for Tenpou's sleeve before the Marshal could wander off looking for his annotations. "Never mind that. You'd need significant military and political backing to be able even to consider presenting a second toushin --"
Tenpou smiled. "I'm the Marshal of the Western Armies and you're the nephew of Kanzeon Bosatsu."
"-- and there's no reason for this Homura to agree --"
"He already has. I left him in my quarters to keep him out of the way."
"What's he supposed to do in your quarters?"
Tenpou shrugged. "Read a good book or two?"
Konzen tried to get back to the thread of the argument, or rather, the nub of the objection, if he could remember exactly what it was. "And why would they need a second toushin anyhow, with Nataku in the position?"
"Anh." Tenpou's smile broadened into something dangerous. "Litouten's done too good a job of convincing Heaven that the youkai are plotting revolt. As far as half the court's concerned, Down There is full of violent rampaging youkai. A second toushin taishi can only be seen as a good thing."
"It wouldn't work," Konzen protested.
"It had better work," Tenpou said quietly. "You're intelligent, Konzen Douji. Think about it."
Konzen's gaze dropped to his hands. He could feel the other man standing behind him, and the space between his shoulders itched. He hunched defensively, and tried to remember if he'd heard of this Homura before. "I didn't know that the Emperor's household had any itan in it."
"They'd hardly advertise it, would they?" Tenpou moved round to where Konzen could see him -- or rather, couldn't avoid his gaze -- and leaned on his desk. "There is a possibility that this may be dangerous for you. I'm sorry about that. But --"
"But it's not as if I wasn't being watched anyway, is it?" Konzen broke in sharply. He talks as though I've already accepted. I haven't accepted yet. "What about Goku?"
Tenpou adjusted his glasses slightly. "Anh. Well, that's one of the good points about this plan. It should mean that nobody will be considering him for that position. One is good, two is reasonable, three is probably an embarrassment of riches. As long as he takes care not to get into the public eye too much . . ."
Konzen nodded. "And do you seriously think that this will have any effect on Litouten's position?"
"I shall be very disappointed if it doesn't," Tenpou said blandly. His eyes were very dark.
It was the air of directed attention that always held Konzen, and that made something in him tense, even if the attention wasn't at himself. Tenpou Gensui's moments of focus were uncommon -- or, perhaps, reserved for other matters. Perhaps Kenren Taishou saw more of them, with the army business that they both handled. But Tenpou's intensity was a rare thing in Heaven. It always made him look at the other man a second time, and then look away. It was an uneasy thing.
"Something will happen," Tenpou added. "I'm certain of it."
Yes, that was the frightening thing about the intensity. It might make something happen, something here in Heaven where nothing ever changed. And to be the subject of it . . .
Tenpou was right. He had to think about this. He lowered his gaze to the papers in front of him for a moment, considering. The corner of Tenpou's labcoat (odd, these days it actually got washed and was clean rather than being its previous grubby, dust-stained self) lay across a pile of carefully ordered documents, another intrusion into his carefully ordered life. Another intrusion -- like the intrusion that Goku had been.
Can you be the sun for that child?
Not that. Not just that. Could he keep the child safe? Could he do anything to affect the world around him?
Apparently he could.
"You'd better introduce me to this Homura," Konzen said flatly, looking up again to meet Tenpou's eyes. "It wouldn't do for me to not know what my candidate for Toushin looks like."
---
Konzen followed Tenpou into the Marshal's office, nostrils flaring -- as always -- at the stink of cigarettes. The place still showed signs of its last reorganisation; books were lined up neatly on the shelves, scrolls were stacked in order, and the floor was visible. A young man was sitting in Tenpou's chair, coat thrown over his shoulders, a book in his lap. He looked up sharply as the two of them entered, and Konzen felt his stomach twitch as he suddenly saw the youth's unnatural eyes; one dark purple, one bright gold, as clear and strange as Goku's own eyes.
Abruptly he was very glad that Goku was playing in the endless Heavenly fields of flowers, well out of this, well away from here.
Tenpou shut the door behind them. "Homura," he nodded to the young man. "Find anything interesting to read?"
Homura lifted the book, and light glinted on something dark that circled his wrists. "Only about Down There. You have exotic tastes, Marshal."
"Anh." Tenpou lit a cigarette with the quick, jagged urgency of need, and inhaled deeply. "Well. Your line of work will probably be more involved with the youkai. I'll try to find you something a little more relevant."
Homura's attention moved to Konzen. "And this is . . ." He made something almost insulting of the question, but there was a hesitancy beneath it, an uncertainty of position and place.
"Konzen Douji," Tenpou answered before Konzen could. "Kanzeon Bosatsu's nephew. An ally of ours."
Konzen folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and looked down his nose at Homura. Apparently being itan didn't involve such niceties of courtesy as getting out of a chair when a guest entered the room. He half regretted not asking Tenpou for more details back in his own study. Such as how much the young man knew, and whether he was simply a strong arm and a broad pair of shoulders rather than a thinking brain in this -- call it a conspiracy, there was no other word for it -- and how it was that Tenpou was sure he could be trusted. Admittedly there was little if any place for an itan in Heaven, and this Homura would probably be grateful for any position that he could get, and any sort of proper acceptance into society, but even so . . .
Homura raised his brows. "We're trusting a nephew of Kanzeon Bosatsu?" he said incredulously. "Even I've heard about what se gets up to."
For once, Konzen found he was actually impelled to defend his aunt. The urge mingled with shock at the challenge to his own integrity. "Se grows excellent lotuses," he stated flatly. "Well, se would if se actually had anything to do with taking care of them."
Tenpou blinked at him, eyes wide and dark. "I don't think I've ever heard you say anything so poetic before."
Konzen snorted. "That was strictly practical." Then he saw exactly what was on Homura's wrists, and looked away before he could be caught staring. Close metal shackles spanned his wrists, and a dark length of chain linked the cuffs, dangling loosely over his legs. It wasn't even as if he was properly dressed -- oh, but the Emperor's household probably had dispensations and leave for that sort of thing -- in his current set of clothing, a vulgarly tight upper garment which clung to his chest, and trousers of a similar cut, all of it looking like one of Tenpou's pictures of Down There. Wonderful. He's not even going to try to look the part. How on earth does Tenpou think we're going to pass him off as a proper Toushin? A child could be excused for ignorance, but this isn't a child.
"Ah. I suppose we need a bureaucrat to help support this." Homura smiled, a slow curve of the mouth. It wasn't a friendly smile at all; there was something unchancy about it, something dangerous. "Pleased to meet you, Konzen Douji."
"The pleasure is all mine," Konzen answered remotely. "Yes. You do need someone with the authority to put this through. Tenpou, can I use your desk?"
"Of course." Tenpou cleared a pile of scrolls off it onto the floor, sweeping them off in a clatter of tubes and paper. "Here and now?"
Homura looked at the two of them, mouth still curved in that cat-smile.
"Yes." Konzen slid his seal from a pocket in his robes, and looked around for a writing-brush that hadn't been chewed on. "I'm assuming that you don't want this delayed. If you've actually gone to the extent of hiding Homura in your rooms, Tenpou --"
"My study," Tenpou noted.
Konzen shrugged. "Whatever. In any case, we need to prepare the memorandum as soon as possible." And before Goku can get involved in anything else, before anybody else has any ideas about what to do with the stupid monkey, before any of the things that Tenpou is afraid of can start happening. He took the sheet of paper which Tenpou offered him, and started drafting the document.
"By the way," Tenpou said, voice idle, "you can access the files about the future destinations of souls, Konzen, can't you?"
He nodded vaguely, mind on the words. "Yes. Technically I have the rank, though my duties give me no reason to bother about it. Why?"
Homura sat up sharply, casual posture dropping away like a discarded shadow. "Then you can --"
Tenpou made a quick gesture, quieting him. Good. I need to concentrate. Can't afford any errors in this. "We'll see to it later," the Marshal said.
"What's your full name?" Konzen queried in Homura's direction. "And any relevant titles?"
"You don't know?" There was a loaded bitterness to Homura's voice. "I thought everyone knew who I was."
Konzen looked up from the document, and blinked at Homura. "Should I?" Perhaps he'd done something famous that Konzen was supposed to know about.
Homura made a very curious noise, then sagged back into Tenpou's chair as though tension and anger had drained out of him together. He raised one hand to cover his eyes. The chain dangling from his wrist cast a long line of shadow on the floor. "No reason. Why should you know or care?"
Tenpou drew on his cigarette. "Things are going to change, Homura. Get used to it."
And where do they stop? Konzen wondered. Do we get to say at some point, that's it, far enough, I don't want the change to go any further? Of course not. His thoughts were full of a dry, weary disgust. It was all in his aunt's smile; that ceaseless, thoughtful smile that saw the world changing and was amused by it even as se pitied it, and saw him change, and wouldn't stop the world for him. Not that I'd ask it of hir. Not that I'd ask anything of hir.
Even to save Goku?
He returned his attention to the document. Precision was all.
---
Tenpou carried in the tray of tea implements, and then stood there, looking blankly at Konzen's empty, pristine desk. "Where do I put it down?" he asked.
Konzen looked up at him and blinked. "I wasn't expecting you today. I'm busy." He paused, then remembered to add, "Sorry. Goku's outside. And why have you brought the tea in, anyhow?"
"It gave me an excuse to lock the door behind me," Tenpou said amiably. "We need to talk."
"Ah." It was annoying to have acquaintances bringing problems to him. Like those tiny dogs which the ladies of the court favoured, perhaps, tugging along unearthed bones twice their size and stinking with mud and corruption. Konzen brushed invisible dirt from his white silk gown, and gloomily wondered what was going to come next. Catastrophe seemed unlikely, as that would probably have involved Tenpou bursting through the door, sword in hand, and dragging him along, rather than stopping for tea. "Put it down. Have a seat. What do we need to talk about?"
Tenpou set the tray down in a ripple of tiny clinks, as the cups chimed against each other, then balanced a hip on the corner of the desk. He didn't try to light a cigarette. That in itself made Konzen uneasy. "You remember," he began, vaguely, "that you were actually becoming interested in current affairs in Heaven?"
"I was asking you what was happening. Yes." Konzen poured the tea precisely, taking care not to spill a drop.
"One might even have thought," Tenpou continued, eyes on Konzen's hands rather than on Konzen's face, "that you were concerned by some aspects of current events."
Konzen pushed one of the teacups across to him. "You're not usually this circumlocutory."
"Anh. We've known each other a while, haven't we?" Tenpou picked up his cup, and folded his hands around it thoughtfully. His gaze moved to Konzen's face, and Konzen found himself looking down in response, uncomfortable with something in the quality of the other man's eyes.
"Yes," he finally answered, when it became obvious that Tenpou wasn't going to continue otherwise. "So? What is it that you want to say to me with the door locked?" He suddenly understood, and it was surprisingly painful. "You've worked out a way to get the monkey back Down Below, is that it?" How strange that the words should be so hard to speak. He had always prided himself in uncompromising accuracy, even when he'd withdrawn himself from a Heaven that was too sordid for his discriminating tastes. Even if he was prepared to admit to caring about the stupid monkey's welfare, he hadn't expected it to be this difficult to . . .
. . . to let go . . .
"No," Tenpou said, and Konzen nearly spilled his tea in relief. "Not yet. Though if you feel it's urgent?"
"It can wait. What is it, then? Kenren in trouble again?" That would be a reassuring touch of normality.
"Not that either." Tenpou smiled at him. "I need your help, Konzen."
Konzen twitched, and crossed his legs defensively. "You're asking for my help," he said disbelievingly. "You never ask for my help."
"Well, no, but . . ."
"You go and get yourself beaten half to death and then you try to convince me that you were just playing at pro wrestling," he continued, an unspecified annoyance building inside him. "You . . ."
"Konzen," Tenpou broke in, eyes dark and serious, "I need your help."
"What with?" he temporised, trying to ignore the worry that was hiding behind the anger. And what if I fail?
"Anh. Some people wouldn't have asked that."
"No, they wouldn't, would they?" he snapped in response, and neatened a single piece of paper to calm his hands.
"I need you," Tenpou said deliberately, "to present a memorandum for me, supporting the election of the itan Homura of the Emperor's household as a second Toushin Taishi." He paused, then slid off the desk and came round behind Konzen to pat him helpfully on the back. "Careful, you'll choke on that tea."
Konzen spat out scalding liquid, put down the cup carefully so as not to break it, and swivelled round in his chair to glare up at Tenpou. "Are you out of your mind, Marshal?"
"Never more so," Tenpou replied gravely. "Or should that be never less so? You know, Down Below they say that genius is always regarded as close to insanity by the onlookers. It's in that scroll of commentaries by . . ."
Konzen grabbed for Tenpou's sleeve before the Marshal could wander off looking for his annotations. "Never mind that. You'd need significant military and political backing to be able even to consider presenting a second toushin --"
Tenpou smiled. "I'm the Marshal of the Western Armies and you're the nephew of Kanzeon Bosatsu."
"-- and there's no reason for this Homura to agree --"
"He already has. I left him in my quarters to keep him out of the way."
"What's he supposed to do in your quarters?"
Tenpou shrugged. "Read a good book or two?"
Konzen tried to get back to the thread of the argument, or rather, the nub of the objection, if he could remember exactly what it was. "And why would they need a second toushin anyhow, with Nataku in the position?"
"Anh." Tenpou's smile broadened into something dangerous. "Litouten's done too good a job of convincing Heaven that the youkai are plotting revolt. As far as half the court's concerned, Down There is full of violent rampaging youkai. A second toushin taishi can only be seen as a good thing."
"It wouldn't work," Konzen protested.
"It had better work," Tenpou said quietly. "You're intelligent, Konzen Douji. Think about it."
Konzen's gaze dropped to his hands. He could feel the other man standing behind him, and the space between his shoulders itched. He hunched defensively, and tried to remember if he'd heard of this Homura before. "I didn't know that the Emperor's household had any itan in it."
"They'd hardly advertise it, would they?" Tenpou moved round to where Konzen could see him -- or rather, couldn't avoid his gaze -- and leaned on his desk. "There is a possibility that this may be dangerous for you. I'm sorry about that. But --"
"But it's not as if I wasn't being watched anyway, is it?" Konzen broke in sharply. He talks as though I've already accepted. I haven't accepted yet. "What about Goku?"
Tenpou adjusted his glasses slightly. "Anh. Well, that's one of the good points about this plan. It should mean that nobody will be considering him for that position. One is good, two is reasonable, three is probably an embarrassment of riches. As long as he takes care not to get into the public eye too much . . ."
Konzen nodded. "And do you seriously think that this will have any effect on Litouten's position?"
"I shall be very disappointed if it doesn't," Tenpou said blandly. His eyes were very dark.
It was the air of directed attention that always held Konzen, and that made something in him tense, even if the attention wasn't at himself. Tenpou Gensui's moments of focus were uncommon -- or, perhaps, reserved for other matters. Perhaps Kenren Taishou saw more of them, with the army business that they both handled. But Tenpou's intensity was a rare thing in Heaven. It always made him look at the other man a second time, and then look away. It was an uneasy thing.
"Something will happen," Tenpou added. "I'm certain of it."
Yes, that was the frightening thing about the intensity. It might make something happen, something here in Heaven where nothing ever changed. And to be the subject of it . . .
Tenpou was right. He had to think about this. He lowered his gaze to the papers in front of him for a moment, considering. The corner of Tenpou's labcoat (odd, these days it actually got washed and was clean rather than being its previous grubby, dust-stained self) lay across a pile of carefully ordered documents, another intrusion into his carefully ordered life. Another intrusion -- like the intrusion that Goku had been.
Can you be the sun for that child?
Not that. Not just that. Could he keep the child safe? Could he do anything to affect the world around him?
Apparently he could.
"You'd better introduce me to this Homura," Konzen said flatly, looking up again to meet Tenpou's eyes. "It wouldn't do for me to not know what my candidate for Toushin looks like."
---
Konzen followed Tenpou into the Marshal's office, nostrils flaring -- as always -- at the stink of cigarettes. The place still showed signs of its last reorganisation; books were lined up neatly on the shelves, scrolls were stacked in order, and the floor was visible. A young man was sitting in Tenpou's chair, coat thrown over his shoulders, a book in his lap. He looked up sharply as the two of them entered, and Konzen felt his stomach twitch as he suddenly saw the youth's unnatural eyes; one dark purple, one bright gold, as clear and strange as Goku's own eyes.
Abruptly he was very glad that Goku was playing in the endless Heavenly fields of flowers, well out of this, well away from here.
Tenpou shut the door behind them. "Homura," he nodded to the young man. "Find anything interesting to read?"
Homura lifted the book, and light glinted on something dark that circled his wrists. "Only about Down There. You have exotic tastes, Marshal."
"Anh." Tenpou lit a cigarette with the quick, jagged urgency of need, and inhaled deeply. "Well. Your line of work will probably be more involved with the youkai. I'll try to find you something a little more relevant."
Homura's attention moved to Konzen. "And this is . . ." He made something almost insulting of the question, but there was a hesitancy beneath it, an uncertainty of position and place.
"Konzen Douji," Tenpou answered before Konzen could. "Kanzeon Bosatsu's nephew. An ally of ours."
Konzen folded his arms, leaned against the wall, and looked down his nose at Homura. Apparently being itan didn't involve such niceties of courtesy as getting out of a chair when a guest entered the room. He half regretted not asking Tenpou for more details back in his own study. Such as how much the young man knew, and whether he was simply a strong arm and a broad pair of shoulders rather than a thinking brain in this -- call it a conspiracy, there was no other word for it -- and how it was that Tenpou was sure he could be trusted. Admittedly there was little if any place for an itan in Heaven, and this Homura would probably be grateful for any position that he could get, and any sort of proper acceptance into society, but even so . . .
Homura raised his brows. "We're trusting a nephew of Kanzeon Bosatsu?" he said incredulously. "Even I've heard about what se gets up to."
For once, Konzen found he was actually impelled to defend his aunt. The urge mingled with shock at the challenge to his own integrity. "Se grows excellent lotuses," he stated flatly. "Well, se would if se actually had anything to do with taking care of them."
Tenpou blinked at him, eyes wide and dark. "I don't think I've ever heard you say anything so poetic before."
Konzen snorted. "That was strictly practical." Then he saw exactly what was on Homura's wrists, and looked away before he could be caught staring. Close metal shackles spanned his wrists, and a dark length of chain linked the cuffs, dangling loosely over his legs. It wasn't even as if he was properly dressed -- oh, but the Emperor's household probably had dispensations and leave for that sort of thing -- in his current set of clothing, a vulgarly tight upper garment which clung to his chest, and trousers of a similar cut, all of it looking like one of Tenpou's pictures of Down There. Wonderful. He's not even going to try to look the part. How on earth does Tenpou think we're going to pass him off as a proper Toushin? A child could be excused for ignorance, but this isn't a child.
"Ah. I suppose we need a bureaucrat to help support this." Homura smiled, a slow curve of the mouth. It wasn't a friendly smile at all; there was something unchancy about it, something dangerous. "Pleased to meet you, Konzen Douji."
"The pleasure is all mine," Konzen answered remotely. "Yes. You do need someone with the authority to put this through. Tenpou, can I use your desk?"
"Of course." Tenpou cleared a pile of scrolls off it onto the floor, sweeping them off in a clatter of tubes and paper. "Here and now?"
Homura looked at the two of them, mouth still curved in that cat-smile.
"Yes." Konzen slid his seal from a pocket in his robes, and looked around for a writing-brush that hadn't been chewed on. "I'm assuming that you don't want this delayed. If you've actually gone to the extent of hiding Homura in your rooms, Tenpou --"
"My study," Tenpou noted.
Konzen shrugged. "Whatever. In any case, we need to prepare the memorandum as soon as possible." And before Goku can get involved in anything else, before anybody else has any ideas about what to do with the stupid monkey, before any of the things that Tenpou is afraid of can start happening. He took the sheet of paper which Tenpou offered him, and started drafting the document.
"By the way," Tenpou said, voice idle, "you can access the files about the future destinations of souls, Konzen, can't you?"
He nodded vaguely, mind on the words. "Yes. Technically I have the rank, though my duties give me no reason to bother about it. Why?"
Homura sat up sharply, casual posture dropping away like a discarded shadow. "Then you can --"
Tenpou made a quick gesture, quieting him. Good. I need to concentrate. Can't afford any errors in this. "We'll see to it later," the Marshal said.
"What's your full name?" Konzen queried in Homura's direction. "And any relevant titles?"
"You don't know?" There was a loaded bitterness to Homura's voice. "I thought everyone knew who I was."
Konzen looked up from the document, and blinked at Homura. "Should I?" Perhaps he'd done something famous that Konzen was supposed to know about.
Homura made a very curious noise, then sagged back into Tenpou's chair as though tension and anger had drained out of him together. He raised one hand to cover his eyes. The chain dangling from his wrist cast a long line of shadow on the floor. "No reason. Why should you know or care?"
Tenpou drew on his cigarette. "Things are going to change, Homura. Get used to it."
And where do they stop? Konzen wondered. Do we get to say at some point, that's it, far enough, I don't want the change to go any further? Of course not. His thoughts were full of a dry, weary disgust. It was all in his aunt's smile; that ceaseless, thoughtful smile that saw the world changing and was amused by it even as se pitied it, and saw him change, and wouldn't stop the world for him. Not that I'd ask it of hir. Not that I'd ask anything of hir.
Even to save Goku?
He returned his attention to the document. Precision was all.
---
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