[fic] Balloons 11
Oct. 22nd, 2010 12:33 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
keire_keTitle: Balloons
Rating: none
Pairings: 39, past Sanzo/Koumyou
Genre: AU WAFF
Wordcount: 50k, total.
Warnings: Koumyou is dead. Also, before the pairings squick you out, for the purposes of this fic Koumyou was never Sanzo's father figure. Might contain wacky adventures.
Summary: Sanzo hates the park, Hakkai, Gojyo, people and the world. He likes his OCD and his job as a professional Internet troll. He likes his unapologetic, rampant atheism. The universe sets out to prove him wrong.
Author's Note: Very loosely based on the (awesome and amazing) movie Up! This is actually a “light” version of the bunny – the original explored the pitfalls of reincarnation and crushed your soul.
The story is finished and will be posted whole over the next three weeks, maybe a little more (there is sixteen chapters, total). Doing it like this, because a/ I need a pick-me-up right now, and b/ have internet issues, posting the whole thing in one go would be a pain, c/ I figure this will make reading easier for you. So, enjoy!
Betaed bykispexi2, who graciously stepped in to help. <3 Thank you, hun!
Sanzo felt naked and there was something trying to nag its way into the forefront of his skull. He ignored it for the time being. The phone booth was made of sheer plastic; anyone willing to take a shot could have his skull splattered all over the disgusting, filthy phone before Sanzo could punch in 1, or however the alarm number started in this clusterfuck of a country. The cheery sticker that in most civilised places would have informed the caller which buttons to press when their stomachs sprouted leaking holes had been torn off a long while ago. Thankfully Hakkai had had the foresight to plunder the glove compartment and the trunk of the Jeep and he found not only a pair of jeans with spare change, but also a first-aid kit, containing a pair of rubber gloves.
The gloves were the only reason Sanzo was still inside the booth.
… but if the damn woman didn’t pick up her phone, he was going to break something.
Finally, at the third call and fifth signal, success.
“Before you say anything,” said the low, female voice on the other end. “You should know I’m having really good sex right now, so it had better be a matter of life and death, and you had better be important enough.”
“Shut up and listen to me,” Sanzo snapped. “I’m in trouble.”
“Yes, you are. Who are you again?”
Sanzo rolled his eyes. “It’s Sanzo. You’re the one who insists on calling all the time.”
“Sanzo, dear boy. You cannot fault me for not recognising your voice; we haven’t spoken in years!”
“Don’t dramatise. I’m in trouble.” Sanzo gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath but continued. “I need your help.”
“That is something to behold.” Good old auntie Kanzeon laughedinto the receiver, her breathlessness proving that she wasn’t kidding about the sex, and Sanzo started contemplating just how bad the Venezuelan prisons had to be to qualify as inferior to this. “I would love to help, but I’m in South America right now.”
“Strangely enough, so am I. Don’t ask.”
“Did you get yourself arrested for drug smuggling?”
“Do I look stupid to you?”
“Silly question. How can I help?”
Venezuelan prison was gaining appeal, fast.
“We need to get out of here, fast, and planes are not an option.”
“Wonderful. This I can arrange. Where are you and who is we?”
“Some town. Carupano, apparently.” Sanzo rolled his eyes at the piece of paper Hakkai cleverly pressed against the glass.
“Splendid! We could be there in a couple of hours. Unless you have transport?”
“A car.”
“Even better. East of Carupano, down the seashore, there’s a place called El Morro Del Puerto Santo. What is it, five miles?” Sanzo heard a male voice grunt something in the background. “Ten. Doesn’t matter much, with a car. We’ll try and finish by the time you get here, but I’m not making any promises. The marina is on the west side!”
With that remark Kanzeon hung up, though not without scarring Sanzo for life first.
“I could have lived my whole life without hearing that,” he told Hakkai as he exited the booth.
“I’m not going to ask. What did she say?”
“She’s busy having sex. We have to find our own way to a place called El Morro Del Puerto. It’s supposed to be ten miles east from here.”
“That is good news.”
“Fucking splendid,” Sanzo said, peeling the gloves off his hands. He hated the feeling of rubber, but he hated the touch of public phones way more.
“Into the car, gentlemen. We must be off,” Hakkai said.
Goku said nothing. A casual inspection revealed he was asleep with his head pillowed on Gojyo’s knee, again. Dug was equally out of it, having squeezed himself into the space between Goku’s dangling legs and the seat.
“Is he narcoleptic? How the fuck is he able to just sleep at the drop of a hat?”
“No idea, but I wish I could.” Gojyo stretched his neck. “Can we get a move on?”
******
The night was clear and bright. The moon was waxing; in a week its full face would be smiling down at the world. Sanzo hoped they would be far, far away by then, even if in the darkness he felt almost peaceful.
As Kanzeon had promised, there was a marina ten miles down the road, largely asleep at this late hour. Hakkai parked at the base of the peninsula, hiding the Jeep among the trees.
“Which yacht belongs to your aunt?” Hakkai asked as they walked down the marina.
“It’s white,” Sanzo said, fully aware that this disqualified a reddish motorboat, whose peeling paint added a couple extra layers of colour, and the motorboat alone.
“Helpful. Any other clues?”
Sanzo looked ahead and immediately hid his face in his palm. “Look for a half-naked insane woman on the bridge.”
“Ah,” Hakkai said, and that right there was the most common reaction to Kanzeon. No wonder every single family member chipped in to her trust fund, just to keep her out of the country.
“She’s got awesome tits,” Gojyo said, earning himself a polite heel to the shin. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“It’s not polite to stare.”
“It’s not polite to wave epic tits in my face, if you don’t want me to stare.”
“Really, Gojyo?”
“Yeah, really.” Gojyo shrugged, gave Hakkai a kiss, grabbed Goku’s arm and bounded towards the yacht in question. “Ahoy there! Can you put something on? My boyfriend is a jealous bitch.
“Certainly. I always listen to reason.” Kanzeon laughed but accepted a towel someone passed her from the inside of the boat. “There’s four of you?”
“Yeah. Sanzo didn’t meantion this?”
“He said ‘we’, I assumed he meant himself and Hakkai, with whom I am acquainted, if only telephonically.” The blinding white of her teeth shone in the darkness of the night, rivalling the fluffy towel she had wrapped about her midsection.
“Is it gonna be a problem?” Goku asked, clutching Dug’s harness in both hands. The dog nuzzled his palm in response.
“Goodness, no. Dear boy, any friend of my nephew’s is a friend of mine. To tell you the truth I was shocked by the notion Sanzo has this many friends.”
“Oh.” Goku turned his enormous, freaky eyes in Sanzo’s direction and smiled, bright enough to rival the missing sun. “Yeah, he’s not very nice.”
“All the more reason to cherish you.” Kanzeon grinned and Goku smiled at her in return. “What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you.”
“’s Goku.”
“As adorable as you are. But we are wasting time. Come one in. There’s space aplenty.”
Gojyo immediately hopped onto the boat, then reached for Dug. Goku patted the mutt and then hoisted him up over the railings.
“Jesus! What do you feed the mutt, rocks?”
“Dug is not fat!”
“Then why does he weigh a ton?”
“Maybe you’re just puny.”
“Maybe I am puny? Maybe I will kick your scrawny arse and we’ll see who’s puny!”
“I could kick your arse into next Wednesday.”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
“We should isolate them,” Sanzo said as he stepped onto the yacht, closely followed by Hakkai. “Preferably in padded rooms.”
“I can’t see that ending well. Dug would be very upset.” Hakkai smiled.
Sanzo looked at the dog, who’d found himself a spot in the cockpit and from there kept a watchful eye on Goku’s attempts to get inside without braining himself on the boom. He failed on the last account.
“Ouch! Damn it! That hurt!”
“A huge rod of metal to the brain will do that to you.”
“Stop being a dick, will you?”
“Yes. Play nice, Sanzo. You will be rooming together.”
“What? Hell, no!”
“This is not a hotel, I’m afraid, and spare cabins are limited. Go on in. Jiroushin is almost done.” Kanzeon tilted her head. “Goku dear, is there something wrong?” Goku was feeling around the cockpit. His fingers slid over all smooth surfaces, touched the ropes, the polished edges, until he finally found one edge that did not match.
“Hm? Oh, I can’t see very well. Or at all, actually.”
Dug barked and walked to the entrance, intent on checking out the way. He spent a minute looking down into the yacht, clearly debating the chances of his master getting inside unharmed. Kanzeon watched him with a fond expression. “Well, no worries. We’ll take good care of you here. I imagine you’re all dying for a shower?”
Sanzo’s thoughts ran in the direction of “God, yes!”, but he ended up saying only “Rather.”
“You will have to take turns, I’m afraid. Let’s have the grand tour over with, so that we can leave sooner. Are you done, Jiroushin?”
“Yes. Stop rushing me.”
“Off you go then. Goku, there are three steps, you need to reach far -- steps are tall.”
The tour they were given was express. “The stern cabin is ours, all of it. You boys can have the rear. These are the bathrooms. We have, I think, spare towels. Toilets are manually operated, so pay attention: I will not be cleaning up after you.” She said all this while pointing, then ushered them out and took her time familiarising Goku with the intricacies of the marine utilities.
“What the hell happened to you?” Sanzo asked. This was far from the aunt he knew, the one who watched in barely contained amusement as he tried turning on the stove and burned his eyebrows off when the spilled flour exploded in his face.
“Does something need to have happened?” Kanzeon asked. To Goku she added, “Oh honey, knock on the door when you’re undressed and someone will take your clothes. Everything gets wet and we might get turbulence when we leave the harbour.”
“This is a yacht, not an aeroplane, Kannon,” Jiroushin said in a tone of voice strangely remniscient of Hakkai’s weekly calls. Kanzeon held the nautical terms in no more regard than Sanzo the outdoors.
“Ah, details. Let’s get this show on the road! Shiver me timbers, and death to the ninjas.”
“I’d be careful. Goku apparently is kind of a ninja,” Hakkai said.
“I wish!”
“Oh? Do elaborate.”
“I might have a black belt in karate, but really, I trained for ten years. It’s no big deal.” Goku took a step, stubbed his toe and hissed. Dug, still in the cockpit, barked. “Quiet boy. It’s late.”
“Let him in, he’ll be comfortable under the table.” Kanzeon waved her arm, as she was wont -- the magnanimous gesture of a queen, allowing a subject to partake in her glory – and Dug, with a much more welcoming “Here, boy!” from Goku carefully descended down the steps. A bed was prepared for him straight away, framed on three sides by benches, and further covered by a table.
“Wonderful! Jiroushin, detach the ropes.”
Sanzo felt for Jiroushin, he really did. Though apparently they had been married for a long time. When he was a child it had taken him a while to understand that Jiroushin was, in fact, his first name and that he wasn’t aunt Kanzeon’s butler, despite appearances. Of course, then it turned out that he had been her father’s butler, which only served to complicate matters for the already confused six year old.
“I’ll help,” Hakkai said immediately, leaving Sanzo staring at the interiors. It wasn’t quite the level of cleanliness he would have preferred, but at least it looked safe enough to touch. The bathrooms were clean, though, and the promise of a shower was holding him up right now.
“Have a shower, Sanzo,” Goku said.
Sanzo grunted, but didn’t protest, in case someone changed their minds. He needed to wash up, needed to get the grime of the past two days off his skin. He hadn’t gone two days without a shower in a long, long time.
Getting himself washed in the tiny bathroom was something of a challenge, especially when the boat rocked, and the lights of the marina in the window grew distant. The only bodywash he found was a very posh, fruity shower oil, with a matching shampoo, so he exited the shower feeling like a proper queer.
“Hey, that smells really nice!” Goku said when Sanzo bumped into him in the cockpit.
“Believe me, we all hope so.” Hakkai smiled at Sanzo, ignoring the middle finger raised in his direction.
It was a gorgeous night. The moon was high, and the scant wind did little more than ruffle everybody’s hair. Sanzo took a seat next to Goku, because, even unwashed, the moron was better company than his annoying aunt and even more annoying best friend. Thankfully, everyone was silent for the time being.
Sanzo leaned back in his seat and stared at the stars. He breathed the darkened air and with it the serenity the moon afforded and then, just as he was almost comfortable, the thought that’d been nagging in the back of his head returned full force.
“What did you say?” he spat into the five-minute silence.
“Um, what, who and when?”
“You- you said something about Koumyou.” Sanzo let the words fly at a breakneck speed, uncaring whether the vice-like grip he had on Goku’s arm was hurting him.
“Sanzo, let him go. I know it’s an unusual name, but honestly-” Hakkai started saying, but Goku interrupted.
“Well, yeah. My neuropsychologist is called Koumyou.”
“Or, Goku did know Koumyou.” Hakkai, to Sanzo’s annoyance, exhibited only mild surprise. “What? Goku seemed to have implied he was a patient, and I don’t think there are that many neuropsychologists in London.”
“There’s two,” Goku said. “Koumyou and that other guy, the one with a huge booming voice. He was just visiting, I think, ‘cause I only saw him once.”
“What made you go see a neuropsych, anyway?” Gojyo asked before his head appeared in the door. “Did someone drop you on your head as a child?”
Goku turned towards him, and for once his face was serious, and sad. “I’d gone on the tube one morning, got the back off my head nearly blown off. They told me later they’d pulled five nails outta my skull.”
“Is that why you can’t see?”
“Far as I know.” Goku must have shrugged his sadness off, because his face lit up with a smile soon after. “Koumyou said it’s remarkable, really. I was pretty lucky.”
“Lucky? You get nails to the head, you lose your sight, and you think it’s lucky?” Sanzo had never made a secret out of his glass mostly empty disposition. He didn’t think he should start now.
“There was this woman next to me, I remember she had a very flowery skirt. She got a nail through the back of the brain too, only they wheeled her outta the station in a body bag.” Goku’s hand closed around Sanzo’s and try as he might Sanzo couldn’t bring himself to take it back, not even when his fingers tangled in Goku’s messy hair just over his nape and felt the patches of raised, hairless skin. “I could’ve been paralysed, or some such. Just being blind isn’t so bad.”
“I’d take the wheelchair and my eyes intact any day,” Sanzo said, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you do all day, listen to the radio?”
“I’d go stir-crazy if I couldn’t move. I can’t sit still for more than ‘n hour without falling asleep, and when I could see it was only a little better. I don’t got much of an attention span.”
“You seem to be doing very well,” Jiroushin said.
Goku awarded him his best grin. “Oh yeah, I got used to it. I’m all good now.”
Sanzo let his attention wander after that, onto the subject of Koumyou and how non-disgusting Goku was even sweaty and unwashed, until the word “suicide” sent him crashing back into reality. “What?” he asked so violently that everyone paused to look at him.
“I said, I volunteer at a suicide hotline.” Goku smiled at him. “It’s actually kinda fun.”
“Listening to people who wanna off themselves is your idea of fun? You’ve got more in common with Sanzo than I thought,” Gojyo said.
“It’s not like I’ve got a whole load of career options, right? I’m not really good with office work, and most of those people just wanna talk to someone. ‘s how I first met Homura, funny enough.”
“That smug motherfucker called a suicide hotline?” Sanzo sat up straight. The very notion that Homura had the faintest notion of wanting to end his life was preposterous.
“Aren’t there confidentiality clauses?” Hakkai asked shushing Gojyo’s question of “Who’s Homura?”
“Well, kinda, but it wasn’t like he was hiding or anything.” Goku paused to scratch his head. “I mean, he called first, but he didn’t even think about suicide as a joke; it was really obvious. Plus, first thing he said was ‘Hi, Goku’ and if I wanna go have a coffee.”
“Who is this Homura guy, again?” Gojyo waved his arms up and down.
“The dweeb who threw the vampire shindig. Smug oily bastard. I met him a couple of times.” Sanzo mulled it over. He was certainly crazy enough to call someone via the suicide hotline.
“Homura Taishou?” Kanzeon tapped her mouth with her finger. “I remember him. Now there’s a lad who’s keen on getting his way.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t even tell him to go to hell, ‘cuz he donates a ton of money to the centre, and everyone had to play nice.” Goku paused. “I’m gonna go take the shower now.” He disappeared inside and the spirited conversation went with him.
“You might as well all turn in; we’ll wake one of you in a few hours. We ought to stop at the island for shopping. I assume you have no spare clothes?”
“Sadly, no,” Hakkai said, but Sanzo tuned him out. He descended into the yacht and made himself comfortable in the cabin Jiroushin had prepared for them. How strange was the world, he mused, without much humour. A little too strange, his rational brain insisted. It was probably right, but then Goku exited the shower, smelling of fancy fruit and freshness, and as was typical of Sanzo’s rational brain, it went into hiding.
Goku crawled onto the mattress, comically tiny in the shirt and shorts Jiroushin had provided for him, and snuggled into the clean sheets. “This is a little scary,” he said, running his hands over the low ceiling.
Sanzo grunted something vague. There was just enough light in the cabin for him to see the contrast of Goku’s skin against the white cloth and his luminous eyes, which defied physics by gathering light beams by day, storing them, and using the light at night.
“Sanzo? How did you know Koumyou?”
It had to happen, Sanzo supposed. “He was my lover,” he said simply.
Goku waited a few moments before continuing. “What happened?”
“He died. Cancer.”
“Oh. He was a really great guy. He didn’t say anything about being sick.”
“Go to sleep,” Sanzo said. Goku smiled at him and in a few minutes he was out, but Sanzo lay in the darkness for a couple hours, contemplating the strange shape of the universe and the things that happened therein.
TBC
Rating: none
Pairings: 39, past Sanzo/Koumyou
Genre: AU WAFF
Wordcount: 50k, total.
Warnings: Koumyou is dead. Also, before the pairings squick you out, for the purposes of this fic Koumyou was never Sanzo's father figure. Might contain wacky adventures.
Summary: Sanzo hates the park, Hakkai, Gojyo, people and the world. He likes his OCD and his job as a professional Internet troll. He likes his unapologetic, rampant atheism. The universe sets out to prove him wrong.
Author's Note: Very loosely based on the (awesome and amazing) movie Up! This is actually a “light” version of the bunny – the original explored the pitfalls of reincarnation and crushed your soul.
The story is finished and will be posted whole over the next three weeks, maybe a little more (there is sixteen chapters, total). Doing it like this, because a/ I need a pick-me-up right now, and b/ have internet issues, posting the whole thing in one go would be a pain, c/ I figure this will make reading easier for you. So, enjoy!
Betaed by
kispexi2, who graciously stepped in to help. <3 Thank you, hun!Sanzo felt naked and there was something trying to nag its way into the forefront of his skull. He ignored it for the time being. The phone booth was made of sheer plastic; anyone willing to take a shot could have his skull splattered all over the disgusting, filthy phone before Sanzo could punch in 1, or however the alarm number started in this clusterfuck of a country. The cheery sticker that in most civilised places would have informed the caller which buttons to press when their stomachs sprouted leaking holes had been torn off a long while ago. Thankfully Hakkai had had the foresight to plunder the glove compartment and the trunk of the Jeep and he found not only a pair of jeans with spare change, but also a first-aid kit, containing a pair of rubber gloves.
The gloves were the only reason Sanzo was still inside the booth.
… but if the damn woman didn’t pick up her phone, he was going to break something.
Finally, at the third call and fifth signal, success.
“Before you say anything,” said the low, female voice on the other end. “You should know I’m having really good sex right now, so it had better be a matter of life and death, and you had better be important enough.”
“Shut up and listen to me,” Sanzo snapped. “I’m in trouble.”
“Yes, you are. Who are you again?”
Sanzo rolled his eyes. “It’s Sanzo. You’re the one who insists on calling all the time.”
“Sanzo, dear boy. You cannot fault me for not recognising your voice; we haven’t spoken in years!”
“Don’t dramatise. I’m in trouble.” Sanzo gritted his teeth and cursed under his breath but continued. “I need your help.”
“That is something to behold.” Good old auntie Kanzeon laughedinto the receiver, her breathlessness proving that she wasn’t kidding about the sex, and Sanzo started contemplating just how bad the Venezuelan prisons had to be to qualify as inferior to this. “I would love to help, but I’m in South America right now.”
“Strangely enough, so am I. Don’t ask.”
“Did you get yourself arrested for drug smuggling?”
“Do I look stupid to you?”
“Silly question. How can I help?”
Venezuelan prison was gaining appeal, fast.
“We need to get out of here, fast, and planes are not an option.”
“Wonderful. This I can arrange. Where are you and who is we?”
“Some town. Carupano, apparently.” Sanzo rolled his eyes at the piece of paper Hakkai cleverly pressed against the glass.
“Splendid! We could be there in a couple of hours. Unless you have transport?”
“A car.”
“Even better. East of Carupano, down the seashore, there’s a place called El Morro Del Puerto Santo. What is it, five miles?” Sanzo heard a male voice grunt something in the background. “Ten. Doesn’t matter much, with a car. We’ll try and finish by the time you get here, but I’m not making any promises. The marina is on the west side!”
With that remark Kanzeon hung up, though not without scarring Sanzo for life first.
“I could have lived my whole life without hearing that,” he told Hakkai as he exited the booth.
“I’m not going to ask. What did she say?”
“She’s busy having sex. We have to find our own way to a place called El Morro Del Puerto. It’s supposed to be ten miles east from here.”
“That is good news.”
“Fucking splendid,” Sanzo said, peeling the gloves off his hands. He hated the feeling of rubber, but he hated the touch of public phones way more.
“Into the car, gentlemen. We must be off,” Hakkai said.
Goku said nothing. A casual inspection revealed he was asleep with his head pillowed on Gojyo’s knee, again. Dug was equally out of it, having squeezed himself into the space between Goku’s dangling legs and the seat.
“Is he narcoleptic? How the fuck is he able to just sleep at the drop of a hat?”
“No idea, but I wish I could.” Gojyo stretched his neck. “Can we get a move on?”
******
The night was clear and bright. The moon was waxing; in a week its full face would be smiling down at the world. Sanzo hoped they would be far, far away by then, even if in the darkness he felt almost peaceful.
As Kanzeon had promised, there was a marina ten miles down the road, largely asleep at this late hour. Hakkai parked at the base of the peninsula, hiding the Jeep among the trees.
“Which yacht belongs to your aunt?” Hakkai asked as they walked down the marina.
“It’s white,” Sanzo said, fully aware that this disqualified a reddish motorboat, whose peeling paint added a couple extra layers of colour, and the motorboat alone.
“Helpful. Any other clues?”
Sanzo looked ahead and immediately hid his face in his palm. “Look for a half-naked insane woman on the bridge.”
“Ah,” Hakkai said, and that right there was the most common reaction to Kanzeon. No wonder every single family member chipped in to her trust fund, just to keep her out of the country.
“She’s got awesome tits,” Gojyo said, earning himself a polite heel to the shin. “Fuck, that hurts.”
“It’s not polite to stare.”
“It’s not polite to wave epic tits in my face, if you don’t want me to stare.”
“Really, Gojyo?”
“Yeah, really.” Gojyo shrugged, gave Hakkai a kiss, grabbed Goku’s arm and bounded towards the yacht in question. “Ahoy there! Can you put something on? My boyfriend is a jealous bitch.
“Certainly. I always listen to reason.” Kanzeon laughed but accepted a towel someone passed her from the inside of the boat. “There’s four of you?”
“Yeah. Sanzo didn’t meantion this?”
“He said ‘we’, I assumed he meant himself and Hakkai, with whom I am acquainted, if only telephonically.” The blinding white of her teeth shone in the darkness of the night, rivalling the fluffy towel she had wrapped about her midsection.
“Is it gonna be a problem?” Goku asked, clutching Dug’s harness in both hands. The dog nuzzled his palm in response.
“Goodness, no. Dear boy, any friend of my nephew’s is a friend of mine. To tell you the truth I was shocked by the notion Sanzo has this many friends.”
“Oh.” Goku turned his enormous, freaky eyes in Sanzo’s direction and smiled, bright enough to rival the missing sun. “Yeah, he’s not very nice.”
“All the more reason to cherish you.” Kanzeon grinned and Goku smiled at her in return. “What’s your name? I don’t think I’ve ever heard of you.”
“’s Goku.”
“As adorable as you are. But we are wasting time. Come one in. There’s space aplenty.”
Gojyo immediately hopped onto the boat, then reached for Dug. Goku patted the mutt and then hoisted him up over the railings.
“Jesus! What do you feed the mutt, rocks?”
“Dug is not fat!”
“Then why does he weigh a ton?”
“Maybe you’re just puny.”
“Maybe I am puny? Maybe I will kick your scrawny arse and we’ll see who’s puny!”
“I could kick your arse into next Wednesday.”
“You’d have to catch me first.”
“We should isolate them,” Sanzo said as he stepped onto the yacht, closely followed by Hakkai. “Preferably in padded rooms.”
“I can’t see that ending well. Dug would be very upset.” Hakkai smiled.
Sanzo looked at the dog, who’d found himself a spot in the cockpit and from there kept a watchful eye on Goku’s attempts to get inside without braining himself on the boom. He failed on the last account.
“Ouch! Damn it! That hurt!”
“A huge rod of metal to the brain will do that to you.”
“Stop being a dick, will you?”
“Yes. Play nice, Sanzo. You will be rooming together.”
“What? Hell, no!”
“This is not a hotel, I’m afraid, and spare cabins are limited. Go on in. Jiroushin is almost done.” Kanzeon tilted her head. “Goku dear, is there something wrong?” Goku was feeling around the cockpit. His fingers slid over all smooth surfaces, touched the ropes, the polished edges, until he finally found one edge that did not match.
“Hm? Oh, I can’t see very well. Or at all, actually.”
Dug barked and walked to the entrance, intent on checking out the way. He spent a minute looking down into the yacht, clearly debating the chances of his master getting inside unharmed. Kanzeon watched him with a fond expression. “Well, no worries. We’ll take good care of you here. I imagine you’re all dying for a shower?”
Sanzo’s thoughts ran in the direction of “God, yes!”, but he ended up saying only “Rather.”
“You will have to take turns, I’m afraid. Let’s have the grand tour over with, so that we can leave sooner. Are you done, Jiroushin?”
“Yes. Stop rushing me.”
“Off you go then. Goku, there are three steps, you need to reach far -- steps are tall.”
The tour they were given was express. “The stern cabin is ours, all of it. You boys can have the rear. These are the bathrooms. We have, I think, spare towels. Toilets are manually operated, so pay attention: I will not be cleaning up after you.” She said all this while pointing, then ushered them out and took her time familiarising Goku with the intricacies of the marine utilities.
“What the hell happened to you?” Sanzo asked. This was far from the aunt he knew, the one who watched in barely contained amusement as he tried turning on the stove and burned his eyebrows off when the spilled flour exploded in his face.
“Does something need to have happened?” Kanzeon asked. To Goku she added, “Oh honey, knock on the door when you’re undressed and someone will take your clothes. Everything gets wet and we might get turbulence when we leave the harbour.”
“This is a yacht, not an aeroplane, Kannon,” Jiroushin said in a tone of voice strangely remniscient of Hakkai’s weekly calls. Kanzeon held the nautical terms in no more regard than Sanzo the outdoors.
“Ah, details. Let’s get this show on the road! Shiver me timbers, and death to the ninjas.”
“I’d be careful. Goku apparently is kind of a ninja,” Hakkai said.
“I wish!”
“Oh? Do elaborate.”
“I might have a black belt in karate, but really, I trained for ten years. It’s no big deal.” Goku took a step, stubbed his toe and hissed. Dug, still in the cockpit, barked. “Quiet boy. It’s late.”
“Let him in, he’ll be comfortable under the table.” Kanzeon waved her arm, as she was wont -- the magnanimous gesture of a queen, allowing a subject to partake in her glory – and Dug, with a much more welcoming “Here, boy!” from Goku carefully descended down the steps. A bed was prepared for him straight away, framed on three sides by benches, and further covered by a table.
“Wonderful! Jiroushin, detach the ropes.”
Sanzo felt for Jiroushin, he really did. Though apparently they had been married for a long time. When he was a child it had taken him a while to understand that Jiroushin was, in fact, his first name and that he wasn’t aunt Kanzeon’s butler, despite appearances. Of course, then it turned out that he had been her father’s butler, which only served to complicate matters for the already confused six year old.
“I’ll help,” Hakkai said immediately, leaving Sanzo staring at the interiors. It wasn’t quite the level of cleanliness he would have preferred, but at least it looked safe enough to touch. The bathrooms were clean, though, and the promise of a shower was holding him up right now.
“Have a shower, Sanzo,” Goku said.
Sanzo grunted, but didn’t protest, in case someone changed their minds. He needed to wash up, needed to get the grime of the past two days off his skin. He hadn’t gone two days without a shower in a long, long time.
Getting himself washed in the tiny bathroom was something of a challenge, especially when the boat rocked, and the lights of the marina in the window grew distant. The only bodywash he found was a very posh, fruity shower oil, with a matching shampoo, so he exited the shower feeling like a proper queer.
“Hey, that smells really nice!” Goku said when Sanzo bumped into him in the cockpit.
“Believe me, we all hope so.” Hakkai smiled at Sanzo, ignoring the middle finger raised in his direction.
It was a gorgeous night. The moon was high, and the scant wind did little more than ruffle everybody’s hair. Sanzo took a seat next to Goku, because, even unwashed, the moron was better company than his annoying aunt and even more annoying best friend. Thankfully, everyone was silent for the time being.
Sanzo leaned back in his seat and stared at the stars. He breathed the darkened air and with it the serenity the moon afforded and then, just as he was almost comfortable, the thought that’d been nagging in the back of his head returned full force.
“What did you say?” he spat into the five-minute silence.
“Um, what, who and when?”
“You- you said something about Koumyou.” Sanzo let the words fly at a breakneck speed, uncaring whether the vice-like grip he had on Goku’s arm was hurting him.
“Sanzo, let him go. I know it’s an unusual name, but honestly-” Hakkai started saying, but Goku interrupted.
“Well, yeah. My neuropsychologist is called Koumyou.”
“Or, Goku did know Koumyou.” Hakkai, to Sanzo’s annoyance, exhibited only mild surprise. “What? Goku seemed to have implied he was a patient, and I don’t think there are that many neuropsychologists in London.”
“There’s two,” Goku said. “Koumyou and that other guy, the one with a huge booming voice. He was just visiting, I think, ‘cause I only saw him once.”
“What made you go see a neuropsych, anyway?” Gojyo asked before his head appeared in the door. “Did someone drop you on your head as a child?”
Goku turned towards him, and for once his face was serious, and sad. “I’d gone on the tube one morning, got the back off my head nearly blown off. They told me later they’d pulled five nails outta my skull.”
“Is that why you can’t see?”
“Far as I know.” Goku must have shrugged his sadness off, because his face lit up with a smile soon after. “Koumyou said it’s remarkable, really. I was pretty lucky.”
“Lucky? You get nails to the head, you lose your sight, and you think it’s lucky?” Sanzo had never made a secret out of his glass mostly empty disposition. He didn’t think he should start now.
“There was this woman next to me, I remember she had a very flowery skirt. She got a nail through the back of the brain too, only they wheeled her outta the station in a body bag.” Goku’s hand closed around Sanzo’s and try as he might Sanzo couldn’t bring himself to take it back, not even when his fingers tangled in Goku’s messy hair just over his nape and felt the patches of raised, hairless skin. “I could’ve been paralysed, or some such. Just being blind isn’t so bad.”
“I’d take the wheelchair and my eyes intact any day,” Sanzo said, folding his arms across his chest. “What do you do all day, listen to the radio?”
“I’d go stir-crazy if I couldn’t move. I can’t sit still for more than ‘n hour without falling asleep, and when I could see it was only a little better. I don’t got much of an attention span.”
“You seem to be doing very well,” Jiroushin said.
Goku awarded him his best grin. “Oh yeah, I got used to it. I’m all good now.”
Sanzo let his attention wander after that, onto the subject of Koumyou and how non-disgusting Goku was even sweaty and unwashed, until the word “suicide” sent him crashing back into reality. “What?” he asked so violently that everyone paused to look at him.
“I said, I volunteer at a suicide hotline.” Goku smiled at him. “It’s actually kinda fun.”
“Listening to people who wanna off themselves is your idea of fun? You’ve got more in common with Sanzo than I thought,” Gojyo said.
“It’s not like I’ve got a whole load of career options, right? I’m not really good with office work, and most of those people just wanna talk to someone. ‘s how I first met Homura, funny enough.”
“That smug motherfucker called a suicide hotline?” Sanzo sat up straight. The very notion that Homura had the faintest notion of wanting to end his life was preposterous.
“Aren’t there confidentiality clauses?” Hakkai asked shushing Gojyo’s question of “Who’s Homura?”
“Well, kinda, but it wasn’t like he was hiding or anything.” Goku paused to scratch his head. “I mean, he called first, but he didn’t even think about suicide as a joke; it was really obvious. Plus, first thing he said was ‘Hi, Goku’ and if I wanna go have a coffee.”
“Who is this Homura guy, again?” Gojyo waved his arms up and down.
“The dweeb who threw the vampire shindig. Smug oily bastard. I met him a couple of times.” Sanzo mulled it over. He was certainly crazy enough to call someone via the suicide hotline.
“Homura Taishou?” Kanzeon tapped her mouth with her finger. “I remember him. Now there’s a lad who’s keen on getting his way.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t even tell him to go to hell, ‘cuz he donates a ton of money to the centre, and everyone had to play nice.” Goku paused. “I’m gonna go take the shower now.” He disappeared inside and the spirited conversation went with him.
“You might as well all turn in; we’ll wake one of you in a few hours. We ought to stop at the island for shopping. I assume you have no spare clothes?”
“Sadly, no,” Hakkai said, but Sanzo tuned him out. He descended into the yacht and made himself comfortable in the cabin Jiroushin had prepared for them. How strange was the world, he mused, without much humour. A little too strange, his rational brain insisted. It was probably right, but then Goku exited the shower, smelling of fancy fruit and freshness, and as was typical of Sanzo’s rational brain, it went into hiding.
Goku crawled onto the mattress, comically tiny in the shirt and shorts Jiroushin had provided for him, and snuggled into the clean sheets. “This is a little scary,” he said, running his hands over the low ceiling.
Sanzo grunted something vague. There was just enough light in the cabin for him to see the contrast of Goku’s skin against the white cloth and his luminous eyes, which defied physics by gathering light beams by day, storing them, and using the light at night.
“Sanzo? How did you know Koumyou?”
It had to happen, Sanzo supposed. “He was my lover,” he said simply.
Goku waited a few moments before continuing. “What happened?”
“He died. Cancer.”
“Oh. He was a really great guy. He didn’t say anything about being sick.”
“Go to sleep,” Sanzo said. Goku smiled at him and in a few minutes he was out, but Sanzo lay in the darkness for a couple hours, contemplating the strange shape of the universe and the things that happened therein.
TBC
no subject
Date: 2010-10-22 04:53 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-30 11:08 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-10-22 07:59 pm (UTC)I also love that last exchange between Sanzo and Goku, about Koumyou. Very quiet and moving.
no subject
Date: 2010-10-30 11:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-11-16 02:10 am (UTC)