"Nepenthe"
by Acey
Disclaimer: Okay, something tells me that Mr. Fitzgerald is dead (disclaimer for last chapter). Maybe the Introduction in my library book. And that Mr. Toriyama lives in Japan, not Georgia, and that as such it's obvious I'm not either one of them...
Author's Note: Sorry this came out so late; I've been swamped with geometry finals and so forth and couldn't find the time to finish the chapter until now... I hope you enjoy it.
Supper was eaten quietly that evening. Roshi had abstained from watching his favorite exercise program as he ate, something that Kuririn did not inquire about out of the knowledge that the show was off the air until the Christmas specials went away with the season. The extent of Kuririn's conversation was to pass a plate of cake over at dessert. Unnatural for him, Roshi noticed as he did so, handing the knife along with the plate.
"Master Roshi?"
The aged man turned to his former pupil.
"Yes, Kuririn?"
He paused for a second, wondering on how to put his thoughts into words and then have them be understood. Roshi waited.
"Nothing. Just that... it's nothing." Kuririn looked away as he spoke, as if he expected some reproof, an admonition that it was best to tell what was in your mind, something like that. It did not come. His master merely nodded his head, a little sadly, reflecting on days spent too soon and years passed too quickly. Kuririn came close to catching the sigh that preceded Roshi's next comment, closer than he would realize. But it was lost before he could seize it, like a butterfly almost in the net, only to fly away.
"Well, Kuririn, when you're done with that cake you can get me the channel guide on the sofa... I need to see when they'll hurry up and finish with those specials..."
The younger man nodded instinctively and obeyed.
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When Juuhachigou returned to the cabin she found that her brother had left again, likely for chopping down another set of trees. She had never inquired of him why he even bothered, especially with the axe, when he could have easily cleared it in minutes, seconds possibly, with a blast of energy. Surely trees were as easy to clear away as buildings were to level. Though, in retrospect, she had never seen him level a building and doubted she ever would.
Juuhachigou dismissed the thought idly and shut the rough-hewn wooden door, rolling her eyes at the coarseness of it. Juunanagou likely could have done a bit better with the whole of the cabin, but he seemed content with it as it stood, just a place to come back to and no more. The lack of windows was more noticable than ever and made the place intolerably dreary to her eyes.
"What did you intend on building, Juunana, a cabin or a prison?" she said aloud, sardonic, expecting no answer and receiving none. Her brother would come back eventually and the boredom would drag on. He was only good to be around in small doses. To percieve his outlook on things was only invigorating for a short period of time before it became annoying and then intolerable. Juuhachigou could see where that doubtless would not bode well for him in the future if he ever found a girlfr--
She stopped herself. Cyborgs were as likely candidates for finding potential spouses as microorganisms. She had known that since activation, since far before that small kiss--
That idiotic kiss! That human Kuririn had probably taken it too seriously from his actions later on. Foolishness on his part. He ought to have seen the obvious, shouldn't have been so believing and innocent. Juuhachigou wanted nothing to do with him; Kuririn had to know that, or else he would figure it out eventually by the fact that she had not said a word or even looked for him since the day at the Lookout. Her "see you sometime" was a ruse. He was capable of understanding that.
All right, she thought, rephrasing her statement. Doubtless any poor, pathetic girl that had somehow fallen in love with her brother would tire of his outlook sooner or later. There. Detached, cold, textbook-thought.
It didn't enter her mind that Gero would have been proud of that accomplishment.
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Juunanagou came back a few minutes later, axe in hand. He set it down on the table and waited expectantly with a derisive expression on his face. Whatever he had waited for did not come immediately and he plunged into conversation.
"So," he said, watching the effect of his word and smirking as he did, "you asked me earlier if I was afraid of the fighters. I never asked you how you felt about them, Juuhachi."
Her reply was reflexive.
"I feel the same way about them as you do, only I can't honestly say I can stand the Saiyans."
"Annoyed by excessive food indulges and more power than you? Even I know they're stonger than me now; I just wouldn't like the fact thrown in my face-- but I never took you for one to be jealous just because of that."
"I'm not. They can have their power. It's just Vegeta that I'd like to see die."
He ignored the statement and probed forward, waiting for a slip somewhere so he could joke about it until he tired of it or she stopped becoming upset when he mentioned it.
"What about the other ones, the Namek and the humans? Tell me that."
"I don't care what happens to any of them."
Juunanagou smirked. "One of them apparently cares for what happens to you. I know you too well to think you had any feelings for him. I doubt if you could find a more pathetic example of the human race if you tried."
She nodded, having told him of what Kuririn had tried to do for her before. He had laughed it off when she had.
"And what should I do about him?"
His answer was wearily toned.
"I don't mind particularly. Lead him on to believe you care about him and expose his foolishness in caring for you if you want. Leave him thinking you'll come back for the rest of his life. It doesn't matter to me."
The conversation ended, he sat down and took up his axe again, getting a stick of half-rotted wood from a pocket and trying to whittle it out of lack of anything better to do.
Juuhachigou sighed and left the room to go to bed.
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Disclaimer: Okay, something tells me that Mr. Fitzgerald is dead (disclaimer for last chapter). Maybe the Introduction in my library book. And that Mr. Toriyama lives in Japan, not Georgia, and that as such it's obvious I'm not either one of them...
Author's Note: Sorry this came out so late; I've been swamped with geometry finals and so forth and couldn't find the time to finish the chapter until now... I hope you enjoy it.
Supper was eaten quietly that evening. Roshi had abstained from watching his favorite exercise program as he ate, something that Kuririn did not inquire about out of the knowledge that the show was off the air until the Christmas specials went away with the season. The extent of Kuririn's conversation was to pass a plate of cake over at dessert. Unnatural for him, Roshi noticed as he did so, handing the knife along with the plate.
"Master Roshi?"
The aged man turned to his former pupil.
"Yes, Kuririn?"
He paused for a second, wondering on how to put his thoughts into words and then have them be understood. Roshi waited.
"Nothing. Just that... it's nothing." Kuririn looked away as he spoke, as if he expected some reproof, an admonition that it was best to tell what was in your mind, something like that. It did not come. His master merely nodded his head, a little sadly, reflecting on days spent too soon and years passed too quickly. Kuririn came close to catching the sigh that preceded Roshi's next comment, closer than he would realize. But it was lost before he could seize it, like a butterfly almost in the net, only to fly away.
"Well, Kuririn, when you're done with that cake you can get me the channel guide on the sofa... I need to see when they'll hurry up and finish with those specials..."
The younger man nodded instinctively and obeyed.
************************************************************************
When Juuhachigou returned to the cabin she found that her brother had left again, likely for chopping down another set of trees. She had never inquired of him why he even bothered, especially with the axe, when he could have easily cleared it in minutes, seconds possibly, with a blast of energy. Surely trees were as easy to clear away as buildings were to level. Though, in retrospect, she had never seen him level a building and doubted she ever would.
Juuhachigou dismissed the thought idly and shut the rough-hewn wooden door, rolling her eyes at the coarseness of it. Juunanagou likely could have done a bit better with the whole of the cabin, but he seemed content with it as it stood, just a place to come back to and no more. The lack of windows was more noticable than ever and made the place intolerably dreary to her eyes.
"What did you intend on building, Juunana, a cabin or a prison?" she said aloud, sardonic, expecting no answer and receiving none. Her brother would come back eventually and the boredom would drag on. He was only good to be around in small doses. To percieve his outlook on things was only invigorating for a short period of time before it became annoying and then intolerable. Juuhachigou could see where that doubtless would not bode well for him in the future if he ever found a girlfr--
She stopped herself. Cyborgs were as likely candidates for finding potential spouses as microorganisms. She had known that since activation, since far before that small kiss--
That idiotic kiss! That human Kuririn had probably taken it too seriously from his actions later on. Foolishness on his part. He ought to have seen the obvious, shouldn't have been so believing and innocent. Juuhachigou wanted nothing to do with him; Kuririn had to know that, or else he would figure it out eventually by the fact that she had not said a word or even looked for him since the day at the Lookout. Her "see you sometime" was a ruse. He was capable of understanding that.
All right, she thought, rephrasing her statement. Doubtless any poor, pathetic girl that had somehow fallen in love with her brother would tire of his outlook sooner or later. There. Detached, cold, textbook-thought.
It didn't enter her mind that Gero would have been proud of that accomplishment.
************************************************************************
Juunanagou came back a few minutes later, axe in hand. He set it down on the table and waited expectantly with a derisive expression on his face. Whatever he had waited for did not come immediately and he plunged into conversation.
"So," he said, watching the effect of his word and smirking as he did, "you asked me earlier if I was afraid of the fighters. I never asked you how you felt about them, Juuhachi."
Her reply was reflexive.
"I feel the same way about them as you do, only I can't honestly say I can stand the Saiyans."
"Annoyed by excessive food indulges and more power than you? Even I know they're stonger than me now; I just wouldn't like the fact thrown in my face-- but I never took you for one to be jealous just because of that."
"I'm not. They can have their power. It's just Vegeta that I'd like to see die."
He ignored the statement and probed forward, waiting for a slip somewhere so he could joke about it until he tired of it or she stopped becoming upset when he mentioned it.
"What about the other ones, the Namek and the humans? Tell me that."
"I don't care what happens to any of them."
Juunanagou smirked. "One of them apparently cares for what happens to you. I know you too well to think you had any feelings for him. I doubt if you could find a more pathetic example of the human race if you tried."
She nodded, having told him of what Kuririn had tried to do for her before. He had laughed it off when she had.
"And what should I do about him?"
His answer was wearily toned.
"I don't mind particularly. Lead him on to believe you care about him and expose his foolishness in caring for you if you want. Leave him thinking you'll come back for the rest of his life. It doesn't matter to me."
The conversation ended, he sat down and took up his axe again, getting a stick of half-rotted wood from a pocket and trying to whittle it out of lack of anything better to do.
Juuhachigou sighed and left the room to go to bed.
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