Until the End of TimeUntil the End of Time
Chapter 3
Something was up with the new student. Sanzo couldn't put his finger on exactly
what, but every moment he was with the other, something rubbed him the wrong
way. He felt tense and on edge, as though there was something he should be doing
or saying. The boy had been in his class for the last week, one of the very few
who wasn't late or trying to skip out. He never carried any books with him, but
was able to answer any question Sanzo threw at him.
It had to be the eyes that made him edgy. No human should have eyes that old. Or
that golden.
It wasn't like there was anything else spectacular about the kid, besides how
smart he seemed to be. He was short, almost a foot shorter than everyone else in
the class. His clothing were the same run-of-the-mill clothing that everyone
else in the school wore. His voice, besides being very similar to the voice
which haunted Sanzo's dreams, was a slightly whiney tone that wasn't that
different from any other person's.
So that left the eyes. Eyes that he'd seen again and again in the night, looking
up at him, sometimes shimmering with tears, sometimes filled with an excited
light, sometimes soft with emotion. Eyes that spoke to him in ways that the
voice could not. Spoke of candlelight and soft whispers, of excitement and
battle.
It was becoming too much. It felt as though his life had spun out of control,
the only sure thing remaining being those golden eyes during the night and the
day. He had to do something about it.
"Hey, boy," he called to the other one day, just as the kid was about to leave
the classroom. School was dismissed for the day.
Golden eyes, looking at him again. This time, with curiousity.
"Where are you heading?" Sanzo questioned.
Goku looked away for a moment, seeming to hesitate. "Worksmith," he finally
replied.
Worksmith was a park in the area. Very dangerous to be in, if you didn't know
how to fight well. Most of the kids avoided the area, because that was the area
that Sha Gojyo, one of the most dangerous gangmembers in the area, claimed as
his own.
"Not like I really give a damn, but why there?" Sanzo questioned, lighting a
cigarette and leaning back against his desk.
The classroom was empty now, leaving the two of them alone. Suddenly, Sanzo
couldn't stop the feeling of anxiousness that came over him. Not that he thought
the kid was dangerous. He really couldn't explain the reason why, just that it
happened and he couldn't push the anxiety away.
"Sha Gojyo kind of took me in when I first ended up in this part of the city. I
do some muscle work for him in exchange for food and shelter," Goku admitted,
again not meeting his eyes.
Sanzo tried to stop it, but the concern rose anyway. "You mean to beat people up
when he asks you to," he stated.
Goku seemed to know it wasn't as question. "As far as I'm concerned, if it gets
me food, I'm not so bad off," he admitted. "I don't have a family, and I can't
hold a job for very long. I've got a deal with Gojyo that works out for me."
Nodding slowly, Sanzo took the last drag of his smoke and put it out on the edge
of a student's desk. "If he ever turns on you, you talk to me. I'll put him
right," he stated, speaking before he could stop himself.
As golden eyes lit up with happiness, Sanzo mentally kicked himself. Not only
could he get fired for getting involved with a student in any way, he had no
real desire to act as the kid's so-called guardian angel. He didn't do
'protecting'. What the hell was he doing, making such a stupid promise to this
kid?
"I'll remember that, thank you," Goku replied. He suddenly bit his lip and
looked down at his feet, his body swaying slightly. Sanzo was preparing to catch
him if he should fall over, when Goku finally looked back up. "Well, thanks
again. Bye."
"Whatever," Sanzo bit out at the kid's back as he left
***
Later that night, standing in the bathroom of his small apartment with his head
dangling above the sink, Sanzo ran the conversation through his mind again. He'd
hadly been able to stop thinking about it all day.
He'd made a fool out of himself, even if Goku didn't realize it. Sanzo had spent
his entire life alone. He had a stereotypical 'rich kid' childhood. His parents
had no time for him, sticking him into boarding school after boarding school as
they travelled the world. He'd been kicked out of each and every one for
misconduct. Even his earliest memories were of seeing the housing staff more
often than his parents.
The news of their death hadn't change anything about him. He didn't even know
them well enough after fifteen years to be able to mourn their deaths. A tragic
accident, they'd said. An avalanche in the Rocky Mountains that had taken four
lives along with their own. Sanzo could still remember how everyone had
complimented him on being so strong to not cry during their funeral. The truth
was, he might as well of been there for two complete strangers.
After that, he'd been adopted by his brother's father. A man with a sick mind
who thought that Sanzo would willingly bend to his perverse will. Three months
after the adoption, Hiiroshi Genjo had been arrested for child molestion. At the
same time, he had to be hospitalized for a broken arm, collarbone, and severely
bruised family jewles.
From there, Social Services had taken over. No foster family would adopt him
with the beating of his uncle on his perminant record, and Sanzo didn't bother
to make an effort to get to know the other boys at the orphanage. Instead, he
focused on his studies, determined to do the best as he could to get himself on
his own two feet.
And he'd done well for himself, depsite his jadded view of the world. The only
real problem that remained was the dreams.
In the last four years, the dreams had changed. Always before, he'd been alone
in them, travelling around as though looking for something. He could remember
feeling emptiness, and if not that, then lonliness and pain.
Then, suddenly, it was as though the dreams had a direction. All of them were
focused around the mysterious person with golden eyes. As though, suddenly, this
person had become the focus of his world.
Sanzo splashed cold water onto his face before heading back into his sparse
livingroom. He grabbed his beer from the coffee table, chugging back the last of
it before heading toward his bedroom. It was as bare as the livingroom, having
only a bed and a dresser. No pictures, no plants, no mess on the floor.
Throwing himself on the old bed, Sanzo stared up at his ceiling. For a breif
moment, he considered not going to sleep that night. It wouldn't the first time
he'd forced himself to stay awake in order to avoid the dreams.
However, in the end, common sense won out and Sanzo closed his eyes. Dreams or
not, he had a busy day tomorrow and didn't want to spend the whole day dragging
his ass around.
Who knew, maybe his dreams would reveal more about his golden eyed problem. Both
of them.
***
Chapter 3
Something was up with the new student. Sanzo couldn't put his finger on exactly
what, but every moment he was with the other, something rubbed him the wrong
way. He felt tense and on edge, as though there was something he should be doing
or saying. The boy had been in his class for the last week, one of the very few
who wasn't late or trying to skip out. He never carried any books with him, but
was able to answer any question Sanzo threw at him.
It had to be the eyes that made him edgy. No human should have eyes that old. Or
that golden.
It wasn't like there was anything else spectacular about the kid, besides how
smart he seemed to be. He was short, almost a foot shorter than everyone else in
the class. His clothing were the same run-of-the-mill clothing that everyone
else in the school wore. His voice, besides being very similar to the voice
which haunted Sanzo's dreams, was a slightly whiney tone that wasn't that
different from any other person's.
So that left the eyes. Eyes that he'd seen again and again in the night, looking
up at him, sometimes shimmering with tears, sometimes filled with an excited
light, sometimes soft with emotion. Eyes that spoke to him in ways that the
voice could not. Spoke of candlelight and soft whispers, of excitement and
battle.
It was becoming too much. It felt as though his life had spun out of control,
the only sure thing remaining being those golden eyes during the night and the
day. He had to do something about it.
"Hey, boy," he called to the other one day, just as the kid was about to leave
the classroom. School was dismissed for the day.
Golden eyes, looking at him again. This time, with curiousity.
"Where are you heading?" Sanzo questioned.
Goku looked away for a moment, seeming to hesitate. "Worksmith," he finally
replied.
Worksmith was a park in the area. Very dangerous to be in, if you didn't know
how to fight well. Most of the kids avoided the area, because that was the area
that Sha Gojyo, one of the most dangerous gangmembers in the area, claimed as
his own.
"Not like I really give a damn, but why there?" Sanzo questioned, lighting a
cigarette and leaning back against his desk.
The classroom was empty now, leaving the two of them alone. Suddenly, Sanzo
couldn't stop the feeling of anxiousness that came over him. Not that he thought
the kid was dangerous. He really couldn't explain the reason why, just that it
happened and he couldn't push the anxiety away.
"Sha Gojyo kind of took me in when I first ended up in this part of the city. I
do some muscle work for him in exchange for food and shelter," Goku admitted,
again not meeting his eyes.
Sanzo tried to stop it, but the concern rose anyway. "You mean to beat people up
when he asks you to," he stated.
Goku seemed to know it wasn't as question. "As far as I'm concerned, if it gets
me food, I'm not so bad off," he admitted. "I don't have a family, and I can't
hold a job for very long. I've got a deal with Gojyo that works out for me."
Nodding slowly, Sanzo took the last drag of his smoke and put it out on the edge
of a student's desk. "If he ever turns on you, you talk to me. I'll put him
right," he stated, speaking before he could stop himself.
As golden eyes lit up with happiness, Sanzo mentally kicked himself. Not only
could he get fired for getting involved with a student in any way, he had no
real desire to act as the kid's so-called guardian angel. He didn't do
'protecting'. What the hell was he doing, making such a stupid promise to this
kid?
"I'll remember that, thank you," Goku replied. He suddenly bit his lip and
looked down at his feet, his body swaying slightly. Sanzo was preparing to catch
him if he should fall over, when Goku finally looked back up. "Well, thanks
again. Bye."
"Whatever," Sanzo bit out at the kid's back as he left
***
Later that night, standing in the bathroom of his small apartment with his head
dangling above the sink, Sanzo ran the conversation through his mind again. He'd
hadly been able to stop thinking about it all day.
He'd made a fool out of himself, even if Goku didn't realize it. Sanzo had spent
his entire life alone. He had a stereotypical 'rich kid' childhood. His parents
had no time for him, sticking him into boarding school after boarding school as
they travelled the world. He'd been kicked out of each and every one for
misconduct. Even his earliest memories were of seeing the housing staff more
often than his parents.
The news of their death hadn't change anything about him. He didn't even know
them well enough after fifteen years to be able to mourn their deaths. A tragic
accident, they'd said. An avalanche in the Rocky Mountains that had taken four
lives along with their own. Sanzo could still remember how everyone had
complimented him on being so strong to not cry during their funeral. The truth
was, he might as well of been there for two complete strangers.
After that, he'd been adopted by his brother's father. A man with a sick mind
who thought that Sanzo would willingly bend to his perverse will. Three months
after the adoption, Hiiroshi Genjo had been arrested for child molestion. At the
same time, he had to be hospitalized for a broken arm, collarbone, and severely
bruised family jewles.
From there, Social Services had taken over. No foster family would adopt him
with the beating of his uncle on his perminant record, and Sanzo didn't bother
to make an effort to get to know the other boys at the orphanage. Instead, he
focused on his studies, determined to do the best as he could to get himself on
his own two feet.
And he'd done well for himself, depsite his jadded view of the world. The only
real problem that remained was the dreams.
In the last four years, the dreams had changed. Always before, he'd been alone
in them, travelling around as though looking for something. He could remember
feeling emptiness, and if not that, then lonliness and pain.
Then, suddenly, it was as though the dreams had a direction. All of them were
focused around the mysterious person with golden eyes. As though, suddenly, this
person had become the focus of his world.
Sanzo splashed cold water onto his face before heading back into his sparse
livingroom. He grabbed his beer from the coffee table, chugging back the last of
it before heading toward his bedroom. It was as bare as the livingroom, having
only a bed and a dresser. No pictures, no plants, no mess on the floor.
Throwing himself on the old bed, Sanzo stared up at his ceiling. For a breif
moment, he considered not going to sleep that night. It wouldn't the first time
he'd forced himself to stay awake in order to avoid the dreams.
However, in the end, common sense won out and Sanzo closed his eyes. Dreams or
not, he had a busy day tomorrow and didn't want to spend the whole day dragging
his ass around.
Who knew, maybe his dreams would reveal more about his golden eyed problem. Both
of them.
***