"Nepenthe"
by Acey
Disclaimer: Mr. Toriyama= Dragon Ball Z. Acey= one (1) high school freshman's G.P.A., little (almost zero) money, two (2) pairs of smudged, thick glasses, and two dozen (24) notebooks filled with inadvertent, poor examples of writing. Not that I've gotten any better, but still.
Author's Note: I'm very sorry for not updating this sooner; a lot of things went on. But I do have some good news. The K/18 Campaign has been set up for authors/supporters of that slowly declining genre of DBZ romance (we can't die out to all the other couples! We're one of the only six couples in the entire show that's canon; that should mean something!), and if you want, you can look at it and join at Deadly Beauty's profile page . =) I tend to talk too much . . . on with it. Extra-large chapter for the heinous wait.
Juuhachigou had taken to going out more often. Juunanagou didn't know if that went along with the change in seasons and the ever so slow emergence of spring or if she was growing tired of the cabin. Most likely it was the former. Juunanagou never really knew what went on in his twin's mind, but he did know that life in the woods had a way of making one bored with its languishing winter days with the barren trees whistling into the cool wind and summers when crickets chirped their own requiem. He did not mind it so much-- the woods seemed endless to him, unchanged except for where his axe had touched the bark of trees. He liked that about it, for it made him feel in control, much more than a life in the city would have, with its human loudness and compaction, where businessmen drove their Lexuses down the streets that prostitutes and homeless walked, and never did a thing for them. Better here where there was none of mankind's disruptive and changing force at work, none of the same disruptive force that had taken his sister and himself to the dwelling place of a wizened man some years before, something neither of them could now recall doing, but surely they must have done at one point, somehow, never to return again to whatever life they had had before then, but to go on, forever, with a dismal adolescent eternity the only thing that hinted of a past.
He had said that those few acres would be his retreat, his and his sister's, three months before. He had originally intended for there to be some apartment in a suburb where they could stay if they found the rustic life unattractive. Juunanagou had not come through with those plans, and Juuhachi had not pushed him into them, either. Now he knew that his retreat had turned into a living quarters, and he felt that Juuhachi was tiring of it.
Yes, that was why she went to the city. The rural area left nothing for her, and he should have known it. He did know it, but he had thought of himself first when he chose the area, as he so frequently, condemnably frequently did, and she had agreed--
He shrugged. It wasn't his fault she found more enjoyment in trying on clothes than being around his acreage. It was her loss, not his own. But it nagged at him, like a first-time thief's conscience nags at him, until he becomes used to the thing and ignores it. She hadn't been like that before, of that he was sure.
Juunanagou sighed without realizing he had given in to such an emotion, and decided to peruse it no further, not this night. Lithely he walked to the door to his room and went to bed.
**********************************************************************
True to his expectations, Juuhachi did go out the next day before he got out of bed, flying with a vague look in her eye toward the city that bustled with the callous roughness and foolishness of people. She had changed her route, finally, unbeknownst to her sibling, opting for a coffeeshop where writers converged, their notebooks mostly replaced by personal computers they were in debt for but believed could one day pay off, if their first novels turned out to be the best-sellers they hoped they would be. They drank their coffee with gusto, as though it was their one source of fuel and inspiration, while she looked on, impassive, cold. One individual managed to type with his left hand while he grabbed his cup with the other and drank from it, free hand reaching and pressing the other keys. Juuhachi was tempted to roll her eyes at this latest example of human foolishness.
The man at the counter was kind, wire-rimmed glasses threatening to steam up with every pot of coffee he brought to the front from the kitchen, a faded, older man who looked as if he hadn't seen or heard of such a thing as a machine that would automatically make hot drinks for its customers, except it be him. White haired and blue eyed, he asked the small man in front of Juuhachigou what he would like, pausing after a second before the customer could speak.
"Wait, now, I know you-- you always get the cocoa, correct?"
A nod.
"Yes, sir." The customer had a shy voice, as though directly below it was a note of uncertainty, and as though he were uncomfortable, almost. It was a familiar voice to Juuhachi's ears, but it took a glance in his direction for her to be sure.
"Juuhachigou!" he said in surprise, noticing her first. Kuririn, yes, patently Kuririn. His small frame should have been the first clue, but as she looked at him she realized how distinct his features were, the lack of a nose, the thick black eyebrows, the shaved head. Such a nice face, befitting his personality.
She nearly choked on the realization of what her last thought had been. Kuririn was waiting for her response beside her, still waiting as the man behind the counter came out with the cocoa, flustered as he got it and paid for it and the man turned in her direction.
"Black coffee." Why she wanted it in the first place was inconceivable, but he obliged and got it for her, going back to the kitchen and emerging with a steaming pot of the stuff, pushing his cap back on the top of his head as he poured it into a cup.
"One-fifty," the man at the counter said, handing the cup to her as she dug around for money in her pocket. She found it in change, the last remnant of currency from a wallet her brother had stolen from a man some time before, nonchalantly handing it to her, saying that now that the Saiyans were watching them Juuhachi should begin buying her clothes, and she had said that he should in turn begin looking for a job--
She glanced at Kuririn's face again, taking in the paused, expectant look on his face and watching quietly as it now clouded with disappointment, as he, sighing, turned away from her. Juuhachigou knew then that he had wanted her to acknowledge his words, wanted her to respond, somehow, recognized that he needed her to say something back to him and not responding to his need. He held his plastic cup of hot chocolate almost at his side now, arm barely bent enough to keep it from spilling. Kuririn's mind had not been on the chocolate since he first saw Juuhachigou standing there, and now it was as far from it as ever. She realized who it had been on.
Unwillingly she heard herself speak, assuring herself that it was only to keep him from walking out, deciding that yes, she would lead him along as her brother had said, letting him think that she had a liking for him when, after all, no one of worth did or would.
"Kurir--"
He was already gone, trudging away from the shop with slumped shoulders, leaving her to her silent thoughts, knowing better than to think she would look for him, not after that impassive quiet with which without words had answered everything. Every hope he had had for her with him had been swiftly banished, cast away like the nets of fishermen. No, the one he loved so dearly was as Pygmalion's statue, no matter how he had wished it otherwise-- believed it otherwise. He had thought there was some heart behind the exterior, some semblence of humanity left, enough to answer him in some manner, to tell him that he was worth one breath of her air, despite it all. But he knew as well as anyone else did now, as he should have known so much before this time.
She would not follow him.
She did not follow him.
by Acey
Disclaimer: Mr. Toriyama= Dragon Ball Z. Acey= one (1) high school freshman's G.P.A., little (almost zero) money, two (2) pairs of smudged, thick glasses, and two dozen (24) notebooks filled with inadvertent, poor examples of writing. Not that I've gotten any better, but still.
Author's Note: I'm very sorry for not updating this sooner; a lot of things went on. But I do have some good news. The K/18 Campaign has been set up for authors/supporters of that slowly declining genre of DBZ romance (we can't die out to all the other couples! We're one of the only six couples in the entire show that's canon; that should mean something!), and if you want, you can look at it and join at Deadly Beauty's profile page . =) I tend to talk too much . . . on with it. Extra-large chapter for the heinous wait.
Juuhachigou had taken to going out more often. Juunanagou didn't know if that went along with the change in seasons and the ever so slow emergence of spring or if she was growing tired of the cabin. Most likely it was the former. Juunanagou never really knew what went on in his twin's mind, but he did know that life in the woods had a way of making one bored with its languishing winter days with the barren trees whistling into the cool wind and summers when crickets chirped their own requiem. He did not mind it so much-- the woods seemed endless to him, unchanged except for where his axe had touched the bark of trees. He liked that about it, for it made him feel in control, much more than a life in the city would have, with its human loudness and compaction, where businessmen drove their Lexuses down the streets that prostitutes and homeless walked, and never did a thing for them. Better here where there was none of mankind's disruptive and changing force at work, none of the same disruptive force that had taken his sister and himself to the dwelling place of a wizened man some years before, something neither of them could now recall doing, but surely they must have done at one point, somehow, never to return again to whatever life they had had before then, but to go on, forever, with a dismal adolescent eternity the only thing that hinted of a past.
He had said that those few acres would be his retreat, his and his sister's, three months before. He had originally intended for there to be some apartment in a suburb where they could stay if they found the rustic life unattractive. Juunanagou had not come through with those plans, and Juuhachi had not pushed him into them, either. Now he knew that his retreat had turned into a living quarters, and he felt that Juuhachi was tiring of it.
Yes, that was why she went to the city. The rural area left nothing for her, and he should have known it. He did know it, but he had thought of himself first when he chose the area, as he so frequently, condemnably frequently did, and she had agreed--
He shrugged. It wasn't his fault she found more enjoyment in trying on clothes than being around his acreage. It was her loss, not his own. But it nagged at him, like a first-time thief's conscience nags at him, until he becomes used to the thing and ignores it. She hadn't been like that before, of that he was sure.
Juunanagou sighed without realizing he had given in to such an emotion, and decided to peruse it no further, not this night. Lithely he walked to the door to his room and went to bed.
**********************************************************************
True to his expectations, Juuhachi did go out the next day before he got out of bed, flying with a vague look in her eye toward the city that bustled with the callous roughness and foolishness of people. She had changed her route, finally, unbeknownst to her sibling, opting for a coffeeshop where writers converged, their notebooks mostly replaced by personal computers they were in debt for but believed could one day pay off, if their first novels turned out to be the best-sellers they hoped they would be. They drank their coffee with gusto, as though it was their one source of fuel and inspiration, while she looked on, impassive, cold. One individual managed to type with his left hand while he grabbed his cup with the other and drank from it, free hand reaching and pressing the other keys. Juuhachi was tempted to roll her eyes at this latest example of human foolishness.
The man at the counter was kind, wire-rimmed glasses threatening to steam up with every pot of coffee he brought to the front from the kitchen, a faded, older man who looked as if he hadn't seen or heard of such a thing as a machine that would automatically make hot drinks for its customers, except it be him. White haired and blue eyed, he asked the small man in front of Juuhachigou what he would like, pausing after a second before the customer could speak.
"Wait, now, I know you-- you always get the cocoa, correct?"
A nod.
"Yes, sir." The customer had a shy voice, as though directly below it was a note of uncertainty, and as though he were uncomfortable, almost. It was a familiar voice to Juuhachi's ears, but it took a glance in his direction for her to be sure.
"Juuhachigou!" he said in surprise, noticing her first. Kuririn, yes, patently Kuririn. His small frame should have been the first clue, but as she looked at him she realized how distinct his features were, the lack of a nose, the thick black eyebrows, the shaved head. Such a nice face, befitting his personality.
She nearly choked on the realization of what her last thought had been. Kuririn was waiting for her response beside her, still waiting as the man behind the counter came out with the cocoa, flustered as he got it and paid for it and the man turned in her direction.
"Black coffee." Why she wanted it in the first place was inconceivable, but he obliged and got it for her, going back to the kitchen and emerging with a steaming pot of the stuff, pushing his cap back on the top of his head as he poured it into a cup.
"One-fifty," the man at the counter said, handing the cup to her as she dug around for money in her pocket. She found it in change, the last remnant of currency from a wallet her brother had stolen from a man some time before, nonchalantly handing it to her, saying that now that the Saiyans were watching them Juuhachi should begin buying her clothes, and she had said that he should in turn begin looking for a job--
She glanced at Kuririn's face again, taking in the paused, expectant look on his face and watching quietly as it now clouded with disappointment, as he, sighing, turned away from her. Juuhachigou knew then that he had wanted her to acknowledge his words, wanted her to respond, somehow, recognized that he needed her to say something back to him and not responding to his need. He held his plastic cup of hot chocolate almost at his side now, arm barely bent enough to keep it from spilling. Kuririn's mind had not been on the chocolate since he first saw Juuhachigou standing there, and now it was as far from it as ever. She realized who it had been on.
Unwillingly she heard herself speak, assuring herself that it was only to keep him from walking out, deciding that yes, she would lead him along as her brother had said, letting him think that she had a liking for him when, after all, no one of worth did or would.
"Kurir--"
He was already gone, trudging away from the shop with slumped shoulders, leaving her to her silent thoughts, knowing better than to think she would look for him, not after that impassive quiet with which without words had answered everything. Every hope he had had for her with him had been swiftly banished, cast away like the nets of fishermen. No, the one he loved so dearly was as Pygmalion's statue, no matter how he had wished it otherwise-- believed it otherwise. He had thought there was some heart behind the exterior, some semblence of humanity left, enough to answer him in some manner, to tell him that he was worth one breath of her air, despite it all. But he knew as well as anyone else did now, as he should have known so much before this time.
She would not follow him.
She did not follow him.