Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ.
Author's notes: This is the revised chapter 6, I also added a glossary. I was asked about the ending of chapter 3, there's a legend that has emotions such regret personified as skeletal ghosts, I wish I could remember what culture the legend was from. I'm not so sure that this chapter's as good as the others I find that the interlude chapters are the hardest to write. At any rate tell me what you think, all reviews are appreciated.
'Single quotations in italics indicate thoughts.'
Glossary :
Ohayo: Good morning
Baka: Idiot
Six years ago
High in the trees the wind sang. Each gust added a new note into the rising overture of early morning. A bright sun shimmered through the green heavily robed trees, leaving fleeting dappled light on the unsealed road. The mare's black hooves hit the hard gravelled dirt in a steady two-time rhythm. It was all ready a very hot day but even so Saffron was hardly blowing. She was fit, with well toned muscles in all the right places and breeding in her carriage. Her butter coloured coat glowed with good health and good grooming in the strong sunlight. Maya sat down closing her hands and legs, bringing the mare to a complete square halt in the intense shade of an unnamed tree.
It had been a year. Since Kami had performed the equivalent of a minor miracle. Since Gokou had passed out in complete shock, something everyone still found helplessly funny. Maya didn't think he'd ever live it down. It had changed everything, for better or worse even now she wasn't sure. Nightmares and disjointed memories still plagued her in her sleep. Physically she felt great, the stiffness and accompanying pain had disappeared. So much had happened, yet nothing had happened and the nervousness and distrust had slowly begun to leave her. In the intervening time Chichi had given birth, to a baby boy. His name was Gohan.
At six months Gohan was showing signs of being very bright. The Sons often came down to the horse paddock with a picnic lunch. And Maya had gotten to know the smallest Son very well. Son Gohan was the sweetest baby she'd ever seen, he was dark like his parents but his eyes were quietly sober. Chichi was very protective of son. Maya took the regular ticking off in good humour. Gohan was after all her first child. Maya sighed; she did have a warped view on life. She was searching for her place in this world.
Now here she was miles from anywhere on a dirt road looking for a farm. 'I should have passed it by now!' Finally after a year of working every day until she dropped she had accumulated enough wealth for some place of her own. She didn't need much just a habitable room or two with access to water, but mostly she needed grazing, one or two large fenced paddocks with room for a few more. So far she hadn't had much luck. Until Kuririn had told her about this place she'd been on the verge of giving up. It was on the main land half way between the Son residence and Kame house. Wedged between the mountains on one side and the sea on the other. Apparently it had been empty for a long time. Maya produced a map and studied it for several minutes. Then reassured she was in the right place she pressed Saffron forwards,' just walking now Saffy'. Saffron however, danced a bit arching her neck unimpressed with such a sedate pace. Slender black limbs with fine but dense bones flexing far more than was really necessary. At intervals she snorted and jingled the bit with her tongue. Maya who was well aware that Saffron's fitness had gone to her head and did little other that halting her every time she jogged. Showing spirit was one thing, jogging was another and completely unacceptable not to mention uncomfortable.
Maya watched the trees on the far side of the road and then barely visible through the dense trees was a stone wall. Discernible only in flashes of grey and cream through the brown and green. Maya's eyes followed it with the same determination as a drowning man might on a singular lifeline. The wall led her to a pair of large rusty iron gates. That hung at strange distorted angles on bent, rusty hinges. Nature had rapidly and unsuccessfully tried to hide. So that now the cast iron bones where half entwined with brightly coloured, flowering creepers. Once they had been grand gates the sort of gates you expected to see at the entrance of a large English estate. Not in this silent, sleeping place, where nature was again establishing her hold. Saffron stood at the entrance listening with every fibre of her being, in that strange unexplainable way that humans have long since lost. Her body was so still, so intent that Maya too remained very still. The two were so intent on that
inaudible whisper; they seemed to tremble like a mirage in the hot air. Only Saffron could break the spell that bound them together. How long they remained that way Maya did not know, it seemed a long time but time could be deceptive. With a rapid shake of her head Saffron, snapped the tendrils of the spell and slowly they melted away. Maya dismounted and looked at the gates in consternation. The morning glory had entangled the gates so heavily that it took a good ten minutes to free one sufficiently to open it.
Beyond the gates was another world, where life flowed and embed as nature intended. The driveway had once been smooth unmarred bitumen enclosed with a smooth concrete gutter and along tunnel of fir trees. The drive had been cracked and lifted in places by the roots of the growing trees. Cushioned by several years' worth of leaf litter it was a soundless path. Maya and Saffron walked, insubstantial as ghosts in the pine scented gloom. The driveway curved and rose up a hill like a large green serpent.
The soft path began to open out revealing a broad ancient lawn. As deep and soft as the finest velvet, running up to a large stone building completely devoid of the now familiar domes. Instead it rose out of the smooth green turf grey and graceful an old veranda supported a balcony above. The veranda and balcony with its lace work ran around the far corner and out of sight. In places the sunlight streamed through the broken and missing floorboards. Up around the veranda posts a wisteria grew in bright, riotous glory. Saffron put her head down and began to crop the grass while Maya stared up at the old house. After a moment Maya pulled the mare's head up and lead her across the lawn.
The sweet scent of wisteria conjured up a collection of carefree memories. Of hot, happy summers under a merciless sun and of boisterous family Christmases under the same sun in amongst another wisteria. Up close Maya could see the old brightly coloured clay tiles. Reminiscence of the tiles on the verandas of the old federation houses, she could remember from her childhood. The old sash windows, half-paned with stained glass spoke of elderly wealth, the four square walls of practicality. Slowly the pair made their way around the back of the house. Here another wisteria and an elderly grapevine fought for the right to grow over a rotting wooden pergola. The pergola grew out from the floor of the balcony in a profusion of green and yellow white and purple. A dogleg of rooms had been added, off to one side and at the very back of the house. Enclosing the pergola on two sides. The extension was only marginally younger than the main house. An old u shaped stable yard, sat among the trees beyond the pergola.
The stable yard had obviously been out of use longer than the rest of the property but was still habitable if dirty. Peering through a filthy window in a stone wall she could just make out the heavy timber kick boards and the iron grill above them between each box. Turning she could see the pasture rolling down to verdant, gently sloping valleys far below. Here and there tremendous trees grew their wide branches creating ample pockets of shade. The air too was unsullied pure, clean. This place far enough from civilisation to be peaceful but not so far as to be completely impractical. Here where in the valleys grass was sweet, perfect for mares and their foals. Were the steeper slopes with less nutritious grass was the perfect place for young horses to build strong bones and muscles. This was the place, the perfect place. Here surely she could be free and at peace.
Buying the old house and it's out lying pasture proved to be easier than Maya had thought it would. The animals took everything in their stride and settled in happily. Getting herself comfortably settled was another thing. The building was beyond just dirty it was a complete mess. Each room needed to be cleaned or tided in some way, and in some cases it proved to be more than a little unpleasant. Untold layers of dirty wallpaper slowly rotting and falling off, hung in dusty loops from cracked plaster in the dining room. Old tin ceilings were dented or loose. The generator that provided power for whole place had certain peculiarities, such as dieing in the middle of the day and refusing to start again. Most rooms needed either floor boards or wooden window or door frames replaced, stains and rising damp were prominent on almost every wall, the idea of fixing all of these problems was over whelming. What could be salvaged was. But the kitchen proved impossible to fix and was ripped out and replaced. Immediate effort and funds were put into one bedroom, a bathroom, the study and the lounge kitchen area. Still it was happy work, slowly it was turning a derelict house into something liveable.
Maya's pride precluded asking for assistance. Chaos was guaranteed as the senshi decided to help any way. It turned out that Gokou and Yamcha had weird ideas about painting and large quantities of paint often needed rescuing from various hair brained schemes. Then there was Buruma, a young blue haired woman, apparently Yamcha's girlfriend. She said she wanted to help but spent the whole day riffling through the contents of the open capsules that sat in small groups on dust cloth covered floors.
"Hey what's this?" the young woman demanded holding up a multi-coloured vinyl LP. Maya gazed at it in mild annoyance. Buruma held the virgin LP a loft by the playing surface. Maya knew she was a bit touchy, paint fumes always had that effect on her. So she tried to be firm but polite to Buruma whom she was still unsure of. Maya completely failed irritation more than noticeable in her voice.
"It's a record there's music on it, but for god's sake don't hold it like that you'll ruin it, put your fingers on the label and flat edge." Buruma was offended 'how dare she talk to me like that!' She put the large disc back in it sleeve and continued poking around in the crate she was sitting on.
Maya continued doggedly painted for an hour after Buruma's query in spite of a growing migraine. Outside Gokou, Yamcha, Tien and Chiaotzu painted window and door frames, in between various conversations. Meanwhile Yajarobe, Kuririn, and herself were painting the lounge room a pale aquamarine and white. Maya sat on the calico covered floorboards, which now glowed with several layers of hard glossy lacquer. A wall between the lounge and the kitchen had been knocked out leaving a large expanse of space and a clear view from the counter to the far wall. Puar and Oolong where carefully painting the large white French windows in the lounge when Maya decided that food was in order.
Much later after everyone had eaten and departed, Maya sat on the front steps feeding little bay Moussa on scraps of bread and watching the other horses graze. The dogs lay in sun warmed piles on the veranda and the lawn, while Firelight's yearling daughter rolled in the piles of rotting leaves. Everyone was at peace. Even Socrates was content, to rest in the last of the day's warm soul reviving sunlight.
(2002)