Luna
sez: Anyone remember The Cabin? Well, guess what guys--I'm at it again! Bigger, badder, and smuttier than ever. Except probably not. More plot this time. I swear.
Praise be to Zimus, without which this would not have been possible.
It was an oppressive night, air hovering in stagnant pools around sparse,
nearly bare trees. Twilight was setting
in as a few hoarse birds rasped out their last call of the day. Under one of the larger trees, the jeep was
parked and two figures were pitching a tent in a small clearing. A little ways off, another was looking for
firewood, a fairly easy task considering the state of the trees. The last was
unloading supplies from the back of the jeep.
Gojyo grunted softly, shifting an over-stuffed pack off his shoulder. He paused to watch as Goku nailed the last stake of the second tent into the ground. The kappa's gaze was distant, though it wasn't apparent whether or not it was the heat that made it so. "I can't believe you sent the high and mighty Sanzo-sama to pick up twigs," he said with a sneer in the monkey's general direction.
Goku flashed him the usual idiotic grin and answered, "It was between that and cooking tonight." The boy's cheery demeanor contrasted sharply with the atmosphere of the camp, making the surroundings seem all the more sinister. Shooting him an odd look, Gojyo imagined the priest cooking for all of them. Everything would most likely be under-cooked with a light hint of cigarette ash for flavor.
"Good choice, monkey…. I'm gonna go help him before he breaks his precious back. Not used to bending over that far, is the illustrious Sanzo, ne?" Gojyo chuckled, lighting a cigarette and wandering off in the general direction he had seen Sanzo go. The priest had already compiled a good amount of wood, which was sitting in a stack at his feet. The heavy air was starting to wear on him and he stripped off the sleeves of his robe. Grumbling, Sanzo rubbed a trickle of sweat off his forehead with the back of his hand and leaned down to pick up the wood again. Just as the kappa entered the small clearing, he was presented with a sight he begged for daily—a perfect view of Sanzo's rear. Gojyo considered said bum for a moment, grinning like a chipmunk with too many nuts in its mouth. The rising moonlight caught individual dots of sweat on the priest's bare shoulders; the redhead remained silent and leaned against a nearby tree.
Trying to juggle the lit cigarette and carry an armload of very dry sticks was not the easiest or most intelligent task for the priest to attempt. He ended up dropping a number of the sticks and swearing double that amount. Consequently, he hadn't noticed Gojyo standing near him yet. The kappa admired Sanzo's body for a little longer, eyes dancing over the curve of his shoulders and up through the moonlit hair. His own red strands were drooping terribly in the humidity. "Oi, need a hand, Stick-Gatherer?"
Sanzo whirled around and blinked a couple of times at the kappa, obviously mystified as to how he could have crept up so easily. The cigarette stuck between his lips was starting to burn down to the filter, adding a slightly orange glow to his face. "…No," he answered, recovering composure easily.
Gojyo raised an eyebrow, stepping forward anyway. The play of colors between the violet of Sanzo's eyes and the orange fire light was spectacular and he found himself musing that Sanzo resembled some sort of mythical creature from days of old. "…I'll walk with you then."
The priest quirked an eyebrow, weighing the possibilities of an ulterior motive. Since it was Gojyo, this was the most likely case, but Sanzo didn't see any real danger in letting the redhead walk with him back to camp. "Fine." The priest hoisted the sticks up to rest on his hip and started toward the jeep where the others were unpacking. His footsteps made hardly any sound, even on the brittle groundcover. Gojyo followed close behind making considerably more noise than the priest. A trail of smoke ghosted over his shoulder and into the night air closing in on the two.
" 'Ch…it's so quiet…" the kappa remarked, nose wrinkling in disapproval. "I hate it when you can hear yourself think…."
"You have that problem? Huh…never would have imagined…" Sanzo quipped in an irritated voice. Glancing uneasily around the immediate area, he noticed a light mist creeping up around the trees. "This place does have a goddamn unpleasant feel to it, though…" he added slowly.
Gojyo
rolled his eyes at the comment, looking about him as they walked. His mouth twisted at the growing unease in
the atmosphere. Shouldn't we have
reached the camp by now…? The kappa
reached out and gripped Sanzo lightly by the shoulder. "Something's wrong…do you feel it?" Pausing under Gojyo's gesture, Sanzo stood very
still. His eyes narrowed and his mouth
clenched around the half-smoked cigarette.
Grunting in reply, he slowly set the firewood on the ground.
Gojyo shivered involuntarily, shoving his hands in his pockets and sweeping the area with a scrutinizing gaze. "I know about you, but all of a sudden I've got the heebie-jeebies…." Silently, the kappa regretted leaving his weapon at the campsite.
Never one to be caught unprepared, Sanzo slid the shining silver gun out of his sleeve and into one pale hand. "Do you hear that?" Turning to face a particularly dense patch of for, the priest pointed his gun in emphasis.
Gojyo turned in the direction he was pointing, ears straining to pick up any suspicious movement in the mist. Youkai hearing was good, even when halved. "What is that…?"
Shaking his head, Sanzo glanced back at the kappa, hoping he would get the idea and keep quiet before whatever it was noticed them. Peering into the thickening fog, he moved the muzzle of the gun around trying to pinpoint the sound. After several tense moments, a weasel darted out from under the brush and scurried away. "…." Gojyo had waited anxiously behind him, unarmed and unwilling to be caught off guard. He had fallen silent at Sanzo's request…at least until the weasel revealed itself at their unknown assailant, at which the redhead burst into uncontrolled laughter.
"Oh man! I can't believe we got so worked up over a fur ball like that! Son of a bitch, do I feel stupid." Gojyo slapped the priest hard on the back.
Sanzo stared perplexedly at the spot where the weasel had appeared, but lowered his gun. I was so sure I had heard a voice…. The priest frowned at Gojyo and pulled his shoulder away from the redhead's hand.
"You scared the crap outta me, monk." Gojyo grinned and shook his head, antennae-like strands bobbing. "We must've taken a wrong turn somewhere…. I don't see the camp. Let's turn around, eh?" To which he added with a snicker, "Unless there's more weasels out there you'd like to shoot."
"Shut your trap, water beetle." Sanzo gathered up the sticks and turned to follow Gojyo back toward where the camp may be. As he walked, the priest couldn't help looking back at the thick patch of mist they had been sure contained some bloodthirsty Youkai just minutes before. Sanzo decided his ears must have been playing tricks on him, but somehow didn't feel like he should put his gun away just yet.