The Life and Times of an Average Coward
Chapter 19: To Reach a Hand
There are times in my life that I've felt unburdened to some degree.
It all came down to music, my release and my freedom. My way of being heard and being seen. It doesn't matter what type of genre it is, and who the artist is, all it mattered is that the message spoke to me to a certain degree. Like it spoke for what I kept close to my heart. The reason why I even managed to have a friend with a sweet and kind boy.
That's why I love music.
But the thing is, my whole life, that one thing that I love is the one thing my 'father' hated the most about me, and it never really got any easier when it all came crushing down with the divorce and my subsequent death afterwards.
That's why some part of me hated music, resent it even, to hate something you love is painful.
But my love for it won before my hate everytime.
It is my release, my freedom, and a well-loved language. To discard it is like removing a piece of me.
And I'm just me, no matter how small I feel given the time of the day, I never wanted to have that piece of me forcibly removed, so I fought desperately despite disliking confrontation. I gave my old sperm donor the talking to, got the subsequent violent response filmed via hidden camera and so finally, finally, the divorce came through and Mama and I were finally free after years of useless trials from bastards who think that just because Mama is of a different race make her less from them. Well now, they can't exactly say shit back when a.) there is a video of a child being beaten half to death by her own father while hurling insults b.) it finally got out to the media c.) social media people are watching the proceedings like a hawk and d.) it's gone international for some reason.
Well then, let's see how they can act like bastards after that.
Though really, my name came in handy, as a famous person in the music scene, but it is also a curse now that it exploded outwards other than in the music world.
The media is terrifying.
Like, it's not like we're the first family to have this type of shitty problem. Do you guys have to televise it, like really? They're making my life sound so tragic and pitiful when there's a lot of other people suffering out there. Just because I'm some quote unquote, "Disabled Music Prodigy" they had to cover our family drama for juicy entertainment. Dear Jesus, I was only nine back then, it was terrifying to have people I don't even know suddenly come up to me and ask me if I'm alright then proceed to pat me on the back and then give me life advice. At school, it was both equally terrifying and relieving, the bullying stopped to an extent, except for my school's watered-down version of Heathers, and the other students pretty much left me to myself which is yay, but their stare is unnerving to have at all times. Because of that, I was unable to go outside without feeling uncomfortable at extreme levels.
To say that my social anxiety shot up stonks meme style would be an understatement. I had to ask for many bathroom breaks because of it and ask to leave piano practice early.
But it got better in the end when it died down, everything was mostly back to normal at middle school though I was alone most of the time with only a few people to talk to. Which was great for me.
The media stations must be having a fiesta after my death, after all, the death of the young crippled music prodigy by her own 'father's' hands is such a huge scoop. I could only hope Mama is doing fine. But Gran is there for her, those two would be alright after some time.
My deep musings came to a halt when a soft doting coo is directed at me.
Golden eyes peered down at me through a curtain of black hair, my new mother, Suzuran, a question in her eyes and a smile on her lips.
"What could my baby be thinking to look so burdened?" Her light airy voice contained a tinge of genuine worry but mostly askance.
Like I could say anything since I'm just a wee little baby.
Ya don't really have to worry much lady, just questioning my life choices and media people.
I gave her a smile instead, eliciting a squeal from the woman. The warmth of her body embraced me, making all the ache of mourning, deep seated regret and anger melt away as she proceeded to lull me with a lovely lullaby.
I woke up to the sensation of feeling like utter gutter trash, my whole body aching and my face feeling all sticky and sore from crying. I tried opening my eyes, yet they are sealed shut, lashes clamped together by disgusting eye wax from the last mental breakdown.
God, as if I can't get any more pathetic.
I can hear someone moving around me, clothes shifting from movement, the familiar and achingly beautiful sound of their soul registered to my ears and I stopped myself from bawling again after the events fully came back to me with much clarity.
Despite my efforts, tears fell from my closed eyes and ran like raindrops from the curve of my cheeks. I was silent, trying hard to not make a sound, but alas, I underestimated Tanjirou's sense of smell. Careful rapid footsteps immediately came to my bedside, a damp washcloth introducing itself to my cheeks as Tanjirou tried to clean my face while I continued to ruin his efforts by more crying.
"I'm sorry…"
My voice came out hoarse, my throat dry from dehydration, sand in my windpipe making it hard to speak without the sensation of being rubbed raw.
Tanjirou heart lurched into gut wrenching guilt, self blame, and all around negative self mutilation. It's not right. Not at all. He shouldn't be blaming himself. He didn't do anything wrong. I left him there all alone when I shouldn't have, even though I know that it was the best decision to make seeing that Kiyoshi-kun needs to get out of there ASAP. I know it was for the best but it didn't feel like it.
It felt like betrayal.
I just left a friend to fend for himself, alone, when I've already promised Tanjirou that I would help him the best I could. How is abandoning him a help? How is leaving him any help? Not at all. What a shitty selfish friend I am.
Can I even call myself his friend after doing that?
Do I even have the right to call myself after leaving him to basically die to face that stupid demon?
How is that being a friend? Some friend I am, Tanjirou has a lot to live for still. His sister still needs him. Tanjirou is only sixteen and he could do so much more, people like him deserve far better. If anything, he's a person who deserves to live a full life of happiness. To grow old and gray with his family, happy and loved because a person filled with love, compassion and kindness like Tanjirou deserve that. After the shitty card Life had dealt him, Tanjirou deserves all the good and happiness Life owed him.
But what if Tanjirou didn't pull through and lost, died there in that abandon mansion, alone, in the hands of a creature that terrorized his family in the past. What if, what if—
What if Tanjirou died?
I finally had the courage to open my eyes, staring into red pools of regret. Carefully, he helped me get into a seating position, his left leg being used as my back rest. Before I could utter more words that could potentially kill my throat, a bowl of water was tilted towards my lips and no words were needed to drink. It was a blessing for my extremely parched throat.
Being so close to him, I can hear the sound of his heartbeat, of his blood pumping through his veins, his soul still singing its beautiful tune, indicating that he is alive and well. The tune is still sad, guilt-ridden and still full of that awful self-blame. Tanjirou still does not let any tears slip from his eyes, but they were glassy as he stared into me.
He's alive. He's still alive. But what if it all went wrong? What if he didn't manage to defeat the demon? What if—
"Please stop." Tanjirou's clear voice are gentle notes of a preciously caressed piano keys. Painfully sad and brittle.
And to add for the sudden mind spiral, a hand weighed on my left shoulder, reassuring and not at all a burden. Not.
(It felt like a huge boulder.)
His red eyes were sad, looking at me straight with those kind eyes of his, carefully, he wiped away at my cheeks with calloused hands and that's when I realized that I was actually crying again.
Damn these genes and this emotional capacity of a newly born infant.
Moron, idiot, pathetic, good for nothing, useless, failure and a disappointment. Maybe the villagers from hometown and stupid sperm donor were right, I am nothing but a worthless whiny bag of untalented mista—
"Please stop. Whatever you're thinking, it is not at all true. Whatever happened, Senritsu is a great person and nothing's going to change that."
I was unable to meet his honest earnest gaze, so I decided that staring at the tatami mat is better than those understanding eyes, ignoring the fact that he is still wiping away my eye water.
"How, how can you even sa-say that?" I mumbled. Voice scratched almost to non-existence. "I'm, I'm n-n-nothing… great. I left you. I was use..less."
And I cut off from there, no more words could explain what I want to say, tongue feeling like an anchor of a sinking ship, going down to the bottom and never to emerge again, throat still protesting about speaking too soon and too much after just being newly watered.
By the Sound Gods, why am I having an identity crisis when I'm supposed to be healing? Guess, I'll add unreliable patient to the milkshake of depression as a bonus sprinkle on top of the sad tall glass.
"What are you saying?" Disbelief carried on to his tune, it's incredulous as if I just said hopes and dreams existed in my version of the universe.
"Senritsu, look at me."
I refuse.
"Okay, then just listen." It's not like I have a choice. If you shout it in your head, I'd still hear it.
"You, Senritsu, is one of the kindest, bravest and strongest people I've ever met."
I beg to differ. What brave? The way I trembled everytime I hear a demon? When I cower and hide and can't move? Please, there's nothing brave about me. The only thing brave about me is that I can admit that I'm a coward.
And strong? What part of me is strong? Physically? Well, I might be, compared to normal mortals with no training. But mentally? Emotionally? If you can just reach inside my head and read or see my point of view, you'd be changing your mind Tanjirou. If I am a book character no one will read it, specially if it's a first person one. No one wants to read heaps of breakdown after mental breakdown every chapter, it's just as exhausting to readers as it is to the writers to write such pessimistic teaspoon characters, if I come across one, I might chuck it into fire. I don't want to read a character who has the same lameness as I do, I'd hate it, because I'd see myself and doubt again. The unlucky ones to read it would probably leave that book be, and maybe write a scathing review on the internet because that's how it works.
Even I am getting tired of being so weak-minded and pathetic, but I can't help it.
That's just how I am, weak-minded, pathetic Sen. I'm not kind either, that would be too nice for a selfish bitch like me.
"I've never met anyone who'd willingly and quickly shed tears for anyone before, I know you might think yourself a crybaby, but that's not exactly true."
Well, I think that and wretched would be a nice fit. If you're trying to talk me out of my depression then you're doing it all wrong, since I already tried that before a lot of people did. It never works, even if you have the power of friendship and protagonist sunshine boy as your buff.
No, I'm not going to crack just because of that.
"I've never met a more genuine person, someone so unafraid to show their own emotions, to have that courage to bear your heart to the world is something else. Senritsu is great, you're so good and so, so filled with love. It was the first thing I picked up from your scent, someone kind and so filled with love that it makes me want to cry."
Tanjirou, I think you got it all wrong. The one who is like that is you. Maybe you smelled yourself, that can't be too far since you were exhausted back then at our first official meeting. Yeah, exactly, that could be it.
His nose scrunched up, a furrow in his brows and a look that says he has heard something he doesn't like.
"Please, please stop and just, just listen to me." He pleaded and I don't know what to do but just stare down into rumpled lilac yukata. This he got fed up, he lifted my face up with both hands. My eyes making contact with his, magnetize to not look away, to just stare at clear red mirror eyes. "Stop keeping yourself in a box of your own making, you are more than what you think of yourself. You're worth is not measured of how useful you are, you're worth it because you're you."
My mouth went dry. Eyes blurring and throat clogging up as I sniffled.
Tanjirou's song roared with sincerity and genuineness that it floored me. You can't just, you can't just say things like that out of the blue! My heart is far too exhausted to take in anymore leaps of emotions. I'm not built for any of this.
"And I've never been gladder to meet and become a friend to someone like you." His eyes shone, and much to my horror, tears fell from his eyes. "So please, be kinder to yourself in the way you are kind to everyone else." Tanjirou lets go of my face and grabbed my hands, callouses meeting callouses with every swipe of his thumbs.
"You trust me, right?"
"Of course." I said without a second of pause.
"Then, if you can't trust yourself, trust in me that placed my faith in you. Trust my words more than the snide whispers in your heart. You're a really great and amazing person Senritsu, don't let others tell you otherwise. If you hear anyone disagree, then tell me, I'll headbutt them for you."
Tanjirou is way too great for me. Really way too great for a mumbling walking screeching mess like me.
"But what if it is m-myself that is insisting otherwise."
"Then I'll headbutt you too, no exceptions."
"E-Eh? But I'm, but I'm not well yet."
"Then I'll do it when you're well enough."
"Eeeek! Please don't! I've seen what your forehead can do!"
He blinked at me in astonishment causing tears to fall from his lower lashes, before he snorted and started laughing.
"Senritsu!" His laughter is inexplicably warm and fond, the sun peeking through the gray clouds after constant rain, a ray of sunshine to battle away the cold. Then Tanjirou winced, because he forgot about the broken rib that wasn't supposed to be broken.
If anyone here is undeserving, it is certainly me. I just sat there and watched him laugh at my genuine concern over his diamond forehead.
"You really are the best!"
I snorted and then winced, okay, a simple snort is already painful, Inosuke guy out here breaking four out of my twenty-four ribs. That's like 1/6 of my ribs damage. Fuck, I really need the good type of pain killers for this.
"Am no—" Red eyes became reproachful. "—t really, if I'm the best then what are you?"
His gaze fell away. Guilt, embarrassment, shame and self-blame echoed hollow in his head. "A bad friend and a bad brother."
"You are none of those." This time, I was the one who is reproachful.
"You're a great friend and an even greater brother."
"But I—"
I scoffed. "If I get to listen to your words then you should also listen to mine." I stated firmly. It shut him up, still, he was doubtful.
I squeezed his hands with what power I have left with my fingers, my left wrist burned but it was well worth it. Even if I'm skeptical and doubtful with his review of my character, it still might have some truth in it, or maybe true enough that my precious family believes it wholeheartedly that I get scolded for it. Maybe, I can't accept these praises and words just yet, and maybe, I'll get there some day. It's just hard to believe all this talk about me and my kindness and my bravery and my whatnot, when I spent a whole lifetime of my own father, my schoolmates, and a bunch of anonymous people across the media around the globe had spoken otherwise.
It might have been a short life, a decade and a half long, but it imprinted on my soul that whatever God of Reincarnation forgot to give me a memory wipe out. All those words could never be taken back, they made tiny seedlings underneath my skin that I let fester and grow until it grew all over my heart and mind, it was partially my fault for letting it stick and strangle me, but it is hard to get rid of them when they are all overgrown weeds as tall as trees with overgrown roots. An overgrown forest of weedy dreariness is what I picture my inner world to be or I could be totally wrong and it's all blackout in there.
But of course, I'll work it out. At my own turtle-y phase. Slow and steady wins the race after all. An insta-weed killer could also damage the land the weeds took root off and I don't have the time to break and be put back together with meshed jagged pieces of myself. Even I know that that isn't healthy.
So yeah, maybe I'm as kind as everyone says I am. That I am strong in my own way. That I'm brave enough to face my fears. That I am pretty enough. That I am someone that is worth it to know as a person.
Having all these thoughts made me feel all warm that the burn of my combined injuries felt subpar. I felt so full and giddy, so I smiled even though my split lip and bruised cheek hurt.
"I say those words because that is what I've seen," I started kindly, rubbing my thumb against his knuckles. Tanjirou is oddly transfixed to my face, to my eyes, like he had never seen me before. "What I felt being friends with you even for a short while." And because I can't raise both of my arms, I jutted my chin towards his chest in lieu of pointing. "What I've heard from your very heart."
I clutched the heavily scarred hands between mine, they were warm and far too rough for someone so young. The hands of a hardworker and a protector. Tanjirou truly is amazing.
"Your heart carries the most beautiful melody I've ever heard in my seventeen years of life, no, this entire lifetime even. It's so beautiful that I couldn't help but cry when I first listened to it." I said, with all the honesty that I can put into words.
In the peaking light of dawn from the small opening of the paneled doors, it set Tanjirou's hair alight in a halo of crimson red, his eyes are rubies and his skin golden. He is warmth dressed as a person, the rose-red dawning sun in human form.
"If it wasn't my fault that everything went wrong then it isn't yours either. The mission itself was a mess from the start, you were injured and I wasn't in the greatest of mindsets and we had a surprise companion included in the mix. It wasn't your fault that it all went wrong." I traced the small burn at the back of his left hand. "And I certainly don't regret protecting you or Nezuko-chan, I would make the same decision everytime if given any choices. You aren't even the one who hurt me, so how come it's your fault? It's Inosuke's and it isn't your right to apologize in his place. Give that responsibility to him."
"But still," He averted his eyes in shame and looked down at our joined hands. "Aren't I a bad friend for being relieve that it's you who got hurt, that it isn't Nezuko?"
This boy really…
"Tantan," The nickname came out from me before I could hold it, from the looks of it, I wasn't the only one surprised. Tanjirou, no, Tantan gave me such a wide-eyed expression that I couldn't help but curtail a chuckle and just grin unrepentantly.
"Tantan," I continued with a mellow voice, suddenly I felt all tired and drowsy.
Exhaustion is understandable with all the ordeal I've just gone through, but unlike before, I felt all warm and tingly, not cold and gasping with dread. But I can't sleep just yet, Tantan needs to listen first how selfishness works. So, I held his gaze, easy enough while lying down on his lap and all his attention on me.
"It's very natural to feel that way. She's your sister, your family, and she's all that you have left. I don't blame you for feeling that way, if anything, I would be very concerned if you don't feel that way. That relief that you felt, that marks you as a great brother. Because you want her safe, unharmed and protected. And that guilt? That makes you a great friend. Because you felt guilty enough that I was hurt, that you never wanted me to come to harm in the first place. That shame," I gave him a smile for his patience to my tired halting speech, one that I hope carries most of my emotions to the next words that I want to convey.
"That shame meant that our friendship is dear to you, that it is worth something of value to your heart, something you treasured that it causes you dishonor to not uphold its meaning to you." My smile took a rueful turn. "And that makes you a great friend Tantan, can you see my reason to call you such now?"
His stare is blank but his heart thudded wildly in his chest, the glorious orchestra that is Tantan's soul had hit a crescendo of dolcettos, simply sustained with his enlightenment, his happiness, and the warmth that he feels. Through our still joined hands, I felt the heat travel to my arms, my shoulders and onto my chest, where my own heart beats in sync. I know that the heat I feel is not from the sun finally rising from the sky, but from the person holding onto me, tenderness in his eyes that are now leaking tears of astonishment.
"Tantan is good, very… good and very kind."
A tired yawn broke away from my lips, I winced as the deep exhale jarred my ribs and made my face hurt. I've been fighting it throughout my rant, but I am exhausted. Drowsy and in need of much rest. Sleep sounds brilliant right now, I'm completely tired as much as a human can get tired. Physically, mentally, emotionally and maybe even spiritually. Jostling the dark fragments of my past life felt very much a spiritual experience to me, and this little heart to heart of ours felt something more than it should, like a reconnection to a line abruptly cut. I don't know why I even chose Tantan and not the more better sounding Jirou as his nickname, Tantan for me just screams right and fitted just for him.
(Or it might be from the old part of her from a lifetime ago who wanted a part from that life to be present to the here and now. Her one and only friend, her first and last friend. A sweet and kind boy who she nicknamed Tantan.)
"Tantan… is the greatest."
Whether Tantan had more to say about the awful nickname that I gave him was left unheard as I found myself slipping to blissful sleep and numbness.
Gnarled fingers glided on glass surface to trace the smiling face of the young lady with teary eyes on the photo, pride swelled in Jigorou's chest, proud of how far one of his chosen protege had gone. From the trembling fragile tearful little girl into a trembling determined tearful beautiful young lady.
Senritsu had always been gentle and kind-hearted but Jigorou never thought of it as weakness. To stay gentle and kind at the face of adversity is its own strength. The crying child back then had remained such even when she had lost and despaired and had to leave behind the comfort of her only remaining family behind, to an environment where it is unkind to someone new and unfamiliar.
(Jigorou still remembered the days where Senritsu suffered exclusion, the talk of the town with bladed words tucked together to her name. He remembered pushing too much and expecting too much, being heavy-handed and inflexible to such a young girl who was already fragile from the unknown unwelcoming place she chose to be in for selfless reasons. Jigorou remembered the frightening one and a half week of searching and searching for the kind girl with warm amber eyes, to find her in a temple, smiling and laughing and playing with other children her age, being cared for by a gentle young monk-in-training. It was a humbling experience and Jigorou didn't even mind the scathing words his friend Sakonji had thrown at him. Jigorou forced her into a preset mold that is too big and too wide for a small child to fill in, it's unfair of him to stretch her thin and hammer her down just to fill every corner. He failed her.)
He was a shitty guardian to her and that child deserves better.
So Jigorou did, he strived to be better, he didn't know that at this advance stage of his life he would still be learning something new, it was wonderful as it was mortifying. And it all paid off, the patience and the careful encouragements, he managed to raise himself a beautiful and lovable disciple who is more of a granddaughter to him than a student. It's not hard to love someone like Senritsu, with her honest heart and gentle strength. Jigorou does not want to pick favorites over the young ones he had cultivated over the years, but if he were to pick one, it would be Senritsu.
Her open affection even made his decisiveness tremble.
At the day of her parting, Jigorou couldn't help but to resent the world a little more.
Senritsu didn't deserve the life of danger and blood and despair, nobody does, but that's how life works and the world had always been tilted to the scale of unfairness.
All that Jigoro can do is support Senritsu, give her all the tools she needs, impart his knowledge to prepare her for the worst, then hope for the best that the bright beautiful flame won't be snuffed early or be doused into weak embers.
Jigorou can only hope and pray that she would survive, that she would still be herself once her duty is done. That she would be lucky like him who lost a leg and managed to see the day and teach the next generation. And if he's pushing it, perhaps like Sakonji and Amane, who survived and grew old with a heart broken as collateral.
The path Senritsu has chosen is steep, filled with jagged lines, wide rivers potholes, and cliffs in between.
Jigorou hopes what he did is enough to prepare her for the life of a Demon Slayer, for he won't forgive himself if her light dies out too soon.
"What are you brooding about old man?"
"UWAA—"
At his surprise, the framed picture of Senritsu held in his hand was thrown upwards, and with the reflexes he honed through the years, he thankfully managed to catch it.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR HAG?! ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME AGAIN?!"
"Ha? Have you gone senile old man? Why would I even bother to plan an assassination when I know it will happen soon enough. And stop yelling will you? You even almost destroyed a precious regalia of my Sen-chan."
"I wouldn't be even destroying it if you didn't surprise me, you witch!" Having said that, Jigorou carefully placed down the frame to the display table alongside the many frames of Senritsu, the witch's daughters, Rin-chan and Kou-chan, her late husband and her past disciples, in different stages of their lives.
"Are you trying to curse me to an early grave, woman?" He grumbled, facing one of the most vicious women he knew in his career as a demon slayer, Moon Flower* Amane also known as The Witch and former Flower Pillar.
In Jigorou's honest opinion, women make the most vicious and terrifying demon slayers. They are used to disadvantages for what is generally considered 'superior' to them that they are capable of doing anything and everything to get to their goal by any means, whether they get to it right away or the long way. The Moon Flower certainly leaves up to her name, beautiful on the outside with a poisonous interior. Known for poisoning her targets and having them in a tremendous world of pain, it can be all drawn out or just a few seconds, and it all depends on the demon's track record.
Amane is one terrifying woman and Jigorou is very, very glad that his sweet Senritsu did not absorb any of the woman's disagreeable nature.
(Just as she is vicious, she is gentle to those who she claims as hers. After the many deaths of her chosen disciples, the woman had stopped cultivating new ones, specially after the death of her own husband and eldest daughter Kou. The sight of blood alone gave her shock as the trauma of seeing her family bathing in a pool of it struck through her mind. She never touched her collection of scalpels again. Amane locked her heart upon a tall mountain like the rarest of flowers which grows on misty peaks that Jigorou could barely climb over. After decades of isolation in their hometown, Jigorou had feared the worst for his childhood friend, that at least until a small ray of sunshine touched her and warmed the frozen leaves. Slowly but surely, the flowers bloomed again.)
His lovely Sen is far too gentle at heart to ever be cruel, but there are instances when she is furious that her whole countenance becomes cold, Jigorou only witnessed it once because Kaigaku's thoughtless comments about Sabito's missing limb.
Nonetheless, Jigorou is happy that Sen has Amane's tenacity to continue to live for another day, even if it's out of spite alone. This way, he is reassured that she has strength to keep on walking forward despite everything.
But the pit in his stomach yesterday is still fresh in his mind. After receiving Sen's first letter, Jigorou never had a moment of peace, a constant wave of dread filled him and it was particularly strong yesterday.
Sen facing off her childhood trauma as her first mission almost gave him a heart attack. What the hell was Oyakata-sama thinking? What if the Wind Pillar didn't come in time? Where would his granddaughter be? The man must've planned it to show Sen what she is capable of with her own power and to give the girl some closure and needed confidence. It might be coming from good intention but still, he couldn't help but resent the man a little for putting his granddaughter in such danger right away.
(And to pair her with a young man? One who he heard is violent and aggressive, someone who his sweet Senritsu do not mix well with. Why can't it be Tomioka, Himejima or Tokito instead? Why this one?)
"She'll be fine Jigorou." A hand squeezed his shoulder for a second before breaking away.
"Our granddaughter is not weak."
It's true. An unquestionable fact.
Jigorou should really trust his granddaughter more.
He sighs, eyes redirecting to the tearful smiling woman in the picture, stance straight and proud.
"This is the only time I will agree with you." He turns away, moving past his oldest friend to go to the receiving room where warm tea and the Go board is waiting. "Get ready to eat rotten peaches Witch, I'm taking the win today."
He hears the woman scoff and shoulders him out of her way to get to the room first.
"As if, you say that, but between you and I, I always win. Not even Sakonji can beat me."
"That's because you're a Witch."
"Excuses are for losers."
"Am not." He settles down on the cushion, glaring at sharp dark eyes. The arrogant smug tilt on the woman's lips is the same as he remembers it to be.
"Are too."
"Tch. Shut up and I'll take the black."
"Whatever you say, Gorou-chan~"
Omake: Moon on the Ditch
~The Mo Dao Zu Shi spin off that nobody asked for~
The young boy stared at him with his lone visible silver eye, the other covered by white bandages under a curtain of dark hair. Suspicion made manifest in the steely depth, the familiar face that it was set on made it all the stranger. A ghost of a vivacious woman with a mischievous wide grin overlapped with the young thin face, drawn, lacking all the fat it was supposed to hold in youth, instead of a bright smile, chapped pink lips were pinched into a forbidding straight line. Behind the boy is an even younger child that should be the same age as his youngest nephew. They share the same wary silver eyes, but in his features is an amalgamation of the laughing woman that still haunt his embarrassing memories and a steadfast man that can calm the other.
Lan QiRen felt something twist inside of him as he took in their appearance.
They were both relatively clean, save for some unknown stains in their threadbare clothes, clothes that don't seem to fit at all, though the younger seemed to have newer and cleaner robes than the other. If anything, the younger is full cheeked and healthy while the older is better off with a few more meals in. From what he knows, the older Wei should be older than his oldest nephew by a year, yet here he looks so small for his age. It is a very telling story, the elder of the two prioritized the other such as the order goes, but still, he is young and shouldn't have to shoulder such a heavy burden of another young life on such a thin bony frame. To make the image worst, Lan QiRen spots bruises under the eldest's collar, the hands under too short sleeves have each finger bandaged except for the thumbs. Fingers stained with spots of black ink stains, cinnabar red and worrying copper brown of dried blood. Thankfully, the younger of the two appears to be unharmed other than the thin healing cut on one tanned right cheek.
The lurch in his gut is not imaginary. Perhaps because Lan QiRen has his own little nephews to care for, perhaps because he has known their parents, perhaps it is a given to pity any other orphaned child on the streets, perhaps because they are children with no adults to care for them.
Or simply, perhaps, because Lan QiRen is unequivocally human.
"Does Master Cultivator need anything from this lowly one?"
The words spoken is limpid and soft, a hint of hard steel from a melodious chord. He grips his younger brother's hand even tighter, body relaxed but ready to bolt and abandon their laid products of well-embroidered pouches, kerchiefs and shawls and some talismans and some other ones he had never seen before. Lan QiRen spies fire and water talismans and spirit-warding ones, all made by careful hands, many of them modified to activate by use of a drop of blood, perfect for civilian use unlike the duds made by street charlatans.
Huh? He thought to himself. For all his mother's likeness, he is similar to his father's bearing.
"Who made these?" He inquired. Pointing at the stack of warding talismans.
"It is this lowly one's grandfather Master Cultivator, you see, he used to be a cultivator like Master." He demurred, visible eye down in deference, yet his brother has no compulsion to do so.
It was a lie, that much is obvious. The ink stains and cinnabar reds from bandaged spindly fingers and childish stubby ones tell otherwise. But given that they are mere children, adults would be disinclined to believe them as the makers given their youth. But for children of nine and five summers respectively, it is a marvelous feat given some of the talismans' modified nature. Not to mention the other ones that he had never seen before, like the scrolls with characters that are familiar but not.
Lan QiRen crouches down, beard in hand and ignoring the not visibly gawking disciples behind him. At the corner of his eyes, he could see the youngest's interest at his long facial hair that reminded him deeply of playful brown eyes.
"These are all very well-made," He mused.
"This lowly one thanks Master, this lowly one's grandfather is sure to be overjoyed by your compliment."
The littlest one puffed his chest with pride, looking at his brother with beseeching eyes, one that the other smiled at and rewarded a gentle head pat. The action made his eyes soften, it was a gesture so reminiscent of his gentle A-Huan to his little A-Zhan whenever the child did well in calligraphy lessons, but instead of a small smile of contentment, the older got a wide gap-toothed grin for the tenderness.
Despite the outward show of pride, Lan QiRen does not mind it at all. The accomplishment achieved at a young age is a seed of confidence for improving study and talent after all, Lan QiRen has a great feeling that both children inherited their mother's creative mind and their father's ability to process present knowledge.
"But what are these ones?" He pointed at the scroll with red trimming, it was laid out open, bearing familiar characters he had seen embroidered in qiankun pouches.
If he were to guess, it is most-likely connected to keeping storage.
The child about A-Huan's age relaxes significantly, letting go of his brother's hand to reach out to his pouch to produce a similar one, but smaller. Unraveling it, the child smiled befitting of a merchant but without the conniving eyes.
"This one is a storage scroll, similar to qiankun pouches as Master Cultivator might have already guessed." Lan QiRen hummed encouragingly when the boy stopped to look at him to see his reaction. "Ah, they are just like qiankun pouches that can store a lot of items, but unlike the pouches this can," A swipe of a meager amount of qi was done for the character 'to store' and suddenly in his small hand is a fragrant plump dumpling, fresh with steam still wafting from it. "Store perishable goods and put them in stasis as how they were when stored."
He gingerly gives the still steaming bun to his eager brother with a caution for its heat, the younger responded by splitting it in half, sternly giving the bigger half to his brother with a pout. The other only sighed fondly and placed it back to the scroll and with another swipe of a thumb glowing with orange qi, it was gone. The younger child glowered as he took a bite of the food, clearly upset that the other didn't eat it and distantly, Lan QiRen held the same sentiment. The boy should really eat more, he is much too thin.
To say that Lan QiRen is not floored by the genius of the talisman work is a lie, with the noise of surprise coming from his disciples, he could say that they are in a similar state.
But before he could inquire about its making, a tanned man of similar outward age to him had crouched down near him and gave a smile to the children.
"A-Zhen! Xiao Ying!" The man glowed in happiness, taking a few years away from his skin. Lan QiEen is also happy to finally place a name to their faces. "I have you both to thank for the happiness you brought to my dear wife to our anniversary by dissuading me from buying the beautiful kerchief set you have here and instead got this handy storage scroll." He pointed at a scroll with a blue trim. "My beautiful wife at first got mad at me when I brought it home and thought I got swindled by another charlatan with another fake talisman." The man guffawed without a care as if being yelled at by his spouse was a great ordeal. "But when I showed her how it works and that it actually works, she was the happiest I've seen her since our wedding day and promptly made me the happiest husband last night."
At the inappropriate insinuation the man shared to mere children, Lan QiRen glared at the civilian who looked appropriately chastised by his slip of tongue. Really, to say such tales to young ears, hopefully, the meaning behind the words is lost to them.
"I told you it would work Uncle! Yingying doesn't lie!" Xiao Ying exclaimed after swallowing his food.
"We are happy to help Uncle Zhao."
The gentle smile A-Zhen had during the storytelling morphed into what Lan QiRen guessed to be his business smile, he glanced towards Lan QiRen with an apologetic gaze – which he nodded to – before focusing to his customer.
He could sate his curiosity later. Besides, he also wishes to observe how A-Zhen conducts business.
"How can I help you this time Uncle?"
Sweet mercantile smile plastered on a young comely face, if it were not for the gauntness, visible injuries and ill-fitting robes, Lan QiRen has no doubt that A-Zhen is a beautiful child. He had the face of CangSe SanRen after all, a woman that in his generation had had many suitors, many of which, comes from gentry family.
Uncle Zhao perked up at the question.
"Can I get more of these scrolls? You said that it is advisable and much easier if I separate the meat from the vegetables, spices and fruits, right?"
"Sure thing. And yes, it makes organizing much easier. How many would you be taking Uncle?"
"I'll be needing ten of that A-Zhen, my darling A-Luo said that it is better to get more of these useful scrolls of yours rather than useless babbles and fake talismans." Then Uncle Zhao glanced at Lan QiRen and chuckled. "You see Honored Cultivators, I often fall victim to a good tongue waggling," Much to his consternation, the man laughed at himself, like getting conned is no big bluster, a true carefree man. "But then again, if I didn't fell victim to clever A-Zhen and Xiao Ying here, I wouldn't have come by such a great invention. Your grandfather and grandmother must be proud to have such filial intelligent grandchildren."
Pleased smiles and blushing cheeks came through with the man's casual and genuine praises, and with it, A-Zhen's smile is all the sweeter as he gives the bundle of scrolls to the jovial man. Uncle Zhao places his payment in A-Zhen's palm, a single piece of gold.
It was immediate, the boy's visible right eye widens before quickly trying to give it back to the older man's palm.
"Uncle Zhao this is too much, surely you have to—"
"A-Zhen," Uncle Zhao pushes the gold firmly to A-Zhen's palm. "It's quite alright, this item here should fetch a higher price in my humble opinion, every single one of your items really, even for us non-cultivators. Take this money for your family, you need it more than my wife and I."
"But—"
"Take it, I insist, my wife too if she were here." Before A-Zhen could refuse more, the man turned away. "Anyway, I have to go now, my A-Luo needs help with the laundry. See you A-Zhen! Xiao Ying!"
"THANK YOU UNCLE!" Xiao Ying stood, waving his hands about, Uncle Zhao returning the action from a distance.
When the jovial man's figure is finally lost in the crowd, immediately, the boy whirled to his still stunned brother to bodily hugged him while jumping in place. Lan QiRen noticed the wince the same time the little boy did, so Xiao Ying stopped moving and settled for loosely hugging his smiling brother.
"Gege! Gege! We're rich now!" Xiao Ying pouted. "Now Gege doesn't have any excuse for skipping meals to buy herbs to heal himself. Gege should also buy lots of meat and spices and fruits and rice later, so YingYing, Yangyang and Gege could have lots of food and dessert for dinner!"
A-Zhen smiled indulgently, his silver eye crinkling in joy at his brother's apparent happiness.
(A 'YangYang' was mentioned but Lan QiRen could always ask later. If Wei ChangZe and CangSe SanRen had another child, it had never been said nor spread through the grapevine, even the Lans, for all the rules are not so unattached to the movement of the outside world as much as it was banned to gossip in their sect.)
"Yes, yes. Gege would make a feast for everyone to enjoy, now, won't you look for Yangyang?"
The gaze flitted to Lan QiRen's direction, and it pained him to now just notice how unfocused and milky the iris are. Is the boy half-blind when his other eye is already injured? He did not miss how A-Zhen had not looked into his eyes directly since earlier, yet Lan QiRen had owed it to the boy being wary of them, of cultivators in general.
Hm, wasn't there news about the Jiangs taking in two orphans several months ago?
Then suddenly, A-Zhen jolted with an alarmed look on his face, his head swerving to the right, pushing his brother away from him. Lan QiRen casted his attention to the crowd around him, finding nothing unusual, the disciples behind him mused the same sentiment.
"Oh no, Gege is that—"
"Get away from them!" A young voice interjected from a distance, before a small figure in black came barreling through the street, uncaring to people who was not fast not enough to get out of the way.
The snarling wild child is also directly going towards them.
"I said get away from them!"
Because he decided he was not quick enough to get to them, the child decided to throw a rock at Lan QiRen, and it would have struck true if not for A-Zhen snatching it in the air and lifting the boy from behind. It all happened within a quick time frame that Lan QiRen didn't even notice that A-Zhen got up from his seat on the dirt or that he even moved at all.
"Let me go Jiejie! Lemme at them!" The boy started squirming in place, trying to be let off to the ground, curses flying out of his young mouth.
It was horrifying to hear such vulgar words from one so young, but it is to be expected from a child reared from the street.
(As for why the wild boy insist on calling A-Zhen as Jiejie, Lan QiRen has no idea. But base on what he kept on spouting about 'This YangYang will protect Jiejie's face so let him go' Gave a clear idea on why he insists on the term of address.)
"Stop moving YangYang! You're hurting Gege, you know he hasn't healed yet!" Xiao Ying got up from his seat on the dirt to directly reproach the bounded boy much closer.
That stopped the boy from squirming when he looked up and saw a pained grimace marring A-Zhen's face. Guilt, worry and anger crossed the child's face.
"Yes! That's why he should let me go so that I can fight them for him!"
"YangYang please…"
The child ignored A-Zhen's worries and turned to them. His eyes were lit with hatred and contempt and hurt akin to a cornered animal protecting itself by making itself as threatening as it could. It failed, as the boy YangYang is a mere child of five or four summers, but it was indeed unnerving rather than frightening.
He glared, gnashing his teeth at them like a dog. "Stay away from them! I won't let any of you high and mighty cultivators hurt them again! I won't let you take them and separate us! You cultivator dogs," Xiao Ying flinched. "are all the same, you say pretty words and promises to us lowly louts, then trample upon your own tongues when there is no more need of u—."
"You—"
"Stand down." Lan QiRen raised his hand, calm and not at all offended by the little urchin's words. The disciples behind him settled with reluctance at the offence.
A-Zhen had turned alarmingly pale, one hand kept to YangYang's mouth who is struggling to get it off. His yelling was tampered down to gibberish non-sense, not at all caring to the crowd that they had gathered upon themselves, who are now muttering about uncivilized disrespectful street children who should know their betters.
The chalky white pallor worried Lan QiRen, the child is one cun away from fainting, his eyes darting anxiously to them, the child in his arms, Xiao Ying and then to the crowd. Seeing that, Lan QiRen deliberately casted his gaze to the crowd, as no non-sense as he could get and as reproachful when punishing a belligerent guest disciple. Easily enough, with his reputation and how the town of CaiYi knew him, the onlookers parted away like scolded children, though some remained to linger on the sidelines.
"Please Master," A-Zhen bowed as much as he could while restraining a child. "Forgive Xue Yang's impertinence, he is young and does not know much better as he made assumptions of the Master's and the Young Masters' character. Please, punish this one instead of his little brothers, this one wou—."
"Gege no! You're still healing, let YingYin—"
"—ld take any punishment that the Master and the Young Masters' deems fit for his younger brother's transgressions."
By now, the A-Zhen is shaking like a newborn fawn, YangYang, Xue Yang had stopped struggling altogether and looking horrified, while Xiao Ying held a worried, frustrated, angry and tearful expression.
Lan QiRen is feeling all these particular emotions combined.
What could have possibly happened to these children for them to react so badly towards cultivators? And if he could take a guess, Lan QiRen would not be happy towards the answer.
~Taisho Secret~
Senritsu can tie a cherry stalk into a knot with her mouth. She got curious if she can do it, and it turns out she can.
*Moon Flower (Morning Glory) – every inch of the plant is poisonous when ingested by either humans or animals.
A/N: Ayo~ I've got nothing much to say other than writing angst is exhausting and that should really be a tag in this story and so is found family. My friend pointed that out and I had to smack myself since duh, Sen is a very sensitive and emotional character with low confidence, ofc there should be hurt and comfort on the tag. I'm such a big dummy for that.
Frankly, I'm not quite happy with this chapter since well, I'm not very great at putting words to explain my own emotions and feelings lest a character's. Woohoo, that's what I get for being an emotionally repressed person, go figure. So, I'm sorry if you find my portrayal to the plethora emotions here to be lacking, I swear to get better at it like how I promise to get better at writing my urk feelings in my journal.
Shout out to my mother for making me this way and your advice of not crying as you beat the shit out of me. I cannot wait for the day I can move out and take my sissies away.
Anyways, come yell at me I finally have tumblr after so many years of not being part of it, yall can ask yer questions there hehe. Just search xiellesky on tumblr~