Mer-Gojyo (10/?)
Alas! It has been an awfully long time since I last updated. I had a bit of a think in the interim, trying to plot out what might happen in this story. I still have no title. Granted, I always have a terrible time with titles. I'm feeling rather impatient, though. I've been doing some research here and there to try and dredge up something that says "pick me! I'm your title for this story!" I haven't had much luck so far, but I'm getting mightily tired of mer-gojyo as a moniker.
I'm going to stick with the pg-13 rating, but I am probably rating it higher than need be. As always, this is a rough draft. If something's horribly messed up, please let me know so I can fix it. (Seriously. Other than spell-checking, I'm doing shockingly little editing so far. But if I did oodles of editing, I'd never get anything polished enough for posting...)
Previous parts found here.
=======
Part Ten
=======
Hakkai awoke in a cold sweat. He blinked in the predawn grey, eyes adjusting slowly as his mind cleared away the last remnants of the dream state. He yawned and reached for his monocle, which should have been on the bedside table to his right. Instead, his hand encountered a stack of papers. Hakkai smiled a little smile. It was a good thing no one was there to see this.
He’d fallen asleep at the small desk he kept in his bedroom; now that he was nominally aware of it, he could feel the hard edges of it digging into his ribs. Somewhat blindly, he felt in front of him. Ah. There. He settled the monocle over the bridge of his nose. Carefully, he eased himself up and off the papers he’d been sleeping on. He hoped that he hadn’t wrinkled them too badly, considering the cost of paper and how, for the most part, he skirted the edges of poverty as it was. Perhaps if he steamed them?
Hakkai reached for a nearby lamp. Its flame guttered at the edge of the mantle and he hurriedly adjusted it. The lamp glowed steadily now, the fire no longer in danged of drowning in the fuel. He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t ruined the papers after all. He set the lamp carefully down on a clear space, trying to ignore how his hands trembled and his breath still came short. Carefully, Hakkai wiped one hand across his forehead.
“Too close by far,” he said.
He crossed the room and opened the shutters over the lone, small window. The sun was not yet creeping over the horizon. Was it worth it to try and sleep a short while longer? He didn’t have to be up for a few hours yet. Hakkai smiled sharply. No one would say anything if he went around with dark circles under his eyes. His breath caught in his throat then, as he remembered what the cards had told him. A terrible feeling swirled around inside him; anticipation, dread, relief all jockeyed for position. Perhaps today would be the day that his past would, quite literally, catch up to him. He forced himself to shrug. The movement felt completely foreign.
Hakkai stripped out of his clothing and laid himself on the bed. He stayed atop the covers; the night-turning-morning was fairly warm yet, and Hakkai was heavy with the knowledge that another unbearable day would soon begin. It wasn’t worth it to crawl between the sheets.
He stared at the ceiling and drifted in and out, closing his eyes for seconds or minutes at a time. The waiting wore on him, even as he went through the motions of normalcy. He floated along in a fog of weary sleeplessness. The light on the walls grew incrementally brighter as the day inched closer.
A sudden clatter in the room had him jumping out of bed, hand curled tightly around the knife he typically kept tucked in the pillowcase. He swept the room with his eyes. The shutters were still open at the window and they stirred in the air. Ah. Hakkai relaxed minutely.
“Cho Gonou.”
Hakkai froze at the sound of the childlike voice from behind him. He turned, stiff, cold, his heart pounding like war drums. His hand tightened convulsively around the hilt of the knife. The pit of his stomach sank and he felt the scar across his abdomen pull as he twisted around at the waist. A strong scent of incense and mold and old blood and rot filled the room, drawn through with the breeze that flapped the shutters. Hakkai coughed, once, but didn‘t cover his mouth with his free hand.
“Cho Gonou,” came the voice again.
Hakkai spotted a flicker of movement, a brief dazzle of light. There. Just beside the bedroom door. It was the marionette. A broken silver chain slithered to the floor from around its neck, and it stepped forward three precise steps.
“Cho Gonou the murderer,” it said.
Its mouth gaped open, the halves of it clopping together at the end of each word. Except for the movement of its wooden jaws, it was perfectly still. For a brief second, Hakkai hated the little painted doll more than anything. He tossed his knife onto the bedspread.
“It’s back to the cellar you go,” he said.
Hakkai stripped the pillowcase off the pillow. He stepped into the pants he’d worn the day before. Then, he crossed the few feet between him and the marionette, jerked the pillowcase over its head, and shoved it the rest of the way in. He held the bundle at arms’ length as he left the bedroom and descended the dark, narrow stairs.
Even as Hakkai arranged the marionette in its little corner of the back room, even as he fetched a new silver chain--heavier and longer than the last--and wrapped it around the now silent figure, he could hear the laughter of its owner. The sound chased him, echoing down through time, stealing into his head, scarcely louder than a whisper but impossible to ignore. He crushed the impulse to lash out at the marionette, to kick it across the room or, perhaps, to lock it away with the mahjong tiles. He knew from long experience that doing so would only make things worse. He exhaled. That man was still laughing, and there was nothing Hakkai could do to make it stop.
At last Hakkai felt the puppet was secure. Perhaps he'd have his visitors take a look at the infernal thing, see if there were a more spiritual route to take in silencing it. The room looked a bit fuzzy without his monocle, but he felt the marionette's expression was especially mocking today. Hakkai locked the back room, mind already skipping ahead.
Tea. Tea would be just the thing after such a start. He retrieved a spare monocle from under the cash register and blinked as his sight adjusted. Oh.
"Clothing first," said Hakkai. "then tea, I suppose,"
He paused, thinking, then sighed. It wouldn't be long before his time would run out. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but soon. He stroked the red braid around his wrist, unsure whether to hope for another day's reprieve between now and the inevitable. Put into perspective, things like clothing or food mattered very little. He sighed again. Hakkai had appearances to uphold, despite the less than ideal circumstances. His guests would, doubtless, be expecting certain things from him, and he'd be a poor host to disappoint.
The buttery sun slipped over the horizon. Hakkai readied himself for the onslaught of the day.
Gojyo was finally asleep on the deck of the ship. The sea pulled at his bones even as the sun began to bake his skin. He rolled over, and a strand of his hair slithered into the water as the ship rode low in a wave. He dreamed of green eyes.
In the deep, inky darkness of the water, something stirred. Cold and patient, it continued to wait for prey.
========
Well...I did say I was thinking about another Hakkai chapter, didn't I? But those last few sentences just kind of snuck in there anyway.
~later
I'm going to stick with the pg-13 rating, but I am probably rating it higher than need be. As always, this is a rough draft. If something's horribly messed up, please let me know so I can fix it. (Seriously. Other than spell-checking, I'm doing shockingly little editing so far. But if I did oodles of editing, I'd never get anything polished enough for posting...)
Previous parts found here.
=======
Part Ten
=======
Hakkai awoke in a cold sweat. He blinked in the predawn grey, eyes adjusting slowly as his mind cleared away the last remnants of the dream state. He yawned and reached for his monocle, which should have been on the bedside table to his right. Instead, his hand encountered a stack of papers. Hakkai smiled a little smile. It was a good thing no one was there to see this.
He’d fallen asleep at the small desk he kept in his bedroom; now that he was nominally aware of it, he could feel the hard edges of it digging into his ribs. Somewhat blindly, he felt in front of him. Ah. There. He settled the monocle over the bridge of his nose. Carefully, he eased himself up and off the papers he’d been sleeping on. He hoped that he hadn’t wrinkled them too badly, considering the cost of paper and how, for the most part, he skirted the edges of poverty as it was. Perhaps if he steamed them?
Hakkai reached for a nearby lamp. Its flame guttered at the edge of the mantle and he hurriedly adjusted it. The lamp glowed steadily now, the fire no longer in danged of drowning in the fuel. He breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn’t ruined the papers after all. He set the lamp carefully down on a clear space, trying to ignore how his hands trembled and his breath still came short. Carefully, Hakkai wiped one hand across his forehead.
“Too close by far,” he said.
He crossed the room and opened the shutters over the lone, small window. The sun was not yet creeping over the horizon. Was it worth it to try and sleep a short while longer? He didn’t have to be up for a few hours yet. Hakkai smiled sharply. No one would say anything if he went around with dark circles under his eyes. His breath caught in his throat then, as he remembered what the cards had told him. A terrible feeling swirled around inside him; anticipation, dread, relief all jockeyed for position. Perhaps today would be the day that his past would, quite literally, catch up to him. He forced himself to shrug. The movement felt completely foreign.
Hakkai stripped out of his clothing and laid himself on the bed. He stayed atop the covers; the night-turning-morning was fairly warm yet, and Hakkai was heavy with the knowledge that another unbearable day would soon begin. It wasn’t worth it to crawl between the sheets.
He stared at the ceiling and drifted in and out, closing his eyes for seconds or minutes at a time. The waiting wore on him, even as he went through the motions of normalcy. He floated along in a fog of weary sleeplessness. The light on the walls grew incrementally brighter as the day inched closer.
A sudden clatter in the room had him jumping out of bed, hand curled tightly around the knife he typically kept tucked in the pillowcase. He swept the room with his eyes. The shutters were still open at the window and they stirred in the air. Ah. Hakkai relaxed minutely.
“Cho Gonou.”
Hakkai froze at the sound of the childlike voice from behind him. He turned, stiff, cold, his heart pounding like war drums. His hand tightened convulsively around the hilt of the knife. The pit of his stomach sank and he felt the scar across his abdomen pull as he twisted around at the waist. A strong scent of incense and mold and old blood and rot filled the room, drawn through with the breeze that flapped the shutters. Hakkai coughed, once, but didn‘t cover his mouth with his free hand.
“Cho Gonou,” came the voice again.
Hakkai spotted a flicker of movement, a brief dazzle of light. There. Just beside the bedroom door. It was the marionette. A broken silver chain slithered to the floor from around its neck, and it stepped forward three precise steps.
“Cho Gonou the murderer,” it said.
Its mouth gaped open, the halves of it clopping together at the end of each word. Except for the movement of its wooden jaws, it was perfectly still. For a brief second, Hakkai hated the little painted doll more than anything. He tossed his knife onto the bedspread.
“It’s back to the cellar you go,” he said.
Hakkai stripped the pillowcase off the pillow. He stepped into the pants he’d worn the day before. Then, he crossed the few feet between him and the marionette, jerked the pillowcase over its head, and shoved it the rest of the way in. He held the bundle at arms’ length as he left the bedroom and descended the dark, narrow stairs.
Even as Hakkai arranged the marionette in its little corner of the back room, even as he fetched a new silver chain--heavier and longer than the last--and wrapped it around the now silent figure, he could hear the laughter of its owner. The sound chased him, echoing down through time, stealing into his head, scarcely louder than a whisper but impossible to ignore. He crushed the impulse to lash out at the marionette, to kick it across the room or, perhaps, to lock it away with the mahjong tiles. He knew from long experience that doing so would only make things worse. He exhaled. That man was still laughing, and there was nothing Hakkai could do to make it stop.
At last Hakkai felt the puppet was secure. Perhaps he'd have his visitors take a look at the infernal thing, see if there were a more spiritual route to take in silencing it. The room looked a bit fuzzy without his monocle, but he felt the marionette's expression was especially mocking today. Hakkai locked the back room, mind already skipping ahead.
Tea. Tea would be just the thing after such a start. He retrieved a spare monocle from under the cash register and blinked as his sight adjusted. Oh.
"Clothing first," said Hakkai. "then tea, I suppose,"
He paused, thinking, then sighed. It wouldn't be long before his time would run out. Perhaps not today, or tomorrow, but soon. He stroked the red braid around his wrist, unsure whether to hope for another day's reprieve between now and the inevitable. Put into perspective, things like clothing or food mattered very little. He sighed again. Hakkai had appearances to uphold, despite the less than ideal circumstances. His guests would, doubtless, be expecting certain things from him, and he'd be a poor host to disappoint.
The buttery sun slipped over the horizon. Hakkai readied himself for the onslaught of the day.
Gojyo was finally asleep on the deck of the ship. The sea pulled at his bones even as the sun began to bake his skin. He rolled over, and a strand of his hair slithered into the water as the ship rode low in a wave. He dreamed of green eyes.
In the deep, inky darkness of the water, something stirred. Cold and patient, it continued to wait for prey.
========
Well...I did say I was thinking about another Hakkai chapter, didn't I? But those last few sentences just kind of snuck in there anyway.
~later