Frost, Sanzo and Goku, G
Title: Frost
Author: cicer
Warnings: None
Pairing(s): None, unless you want to see it that way?
Notes: For Prompt #46: Seeds. 1,112 words. Took about 40 minutes. Sorry this is a little late!
The air outside was so cold it hurt to breathe. The cigarette smoke provided little comfort, but it was better than nothing. Sanzo cupped the cigarette in his hands to shield it from the breeze and leaned against one of the stone pillars on the temple veranda.
He squinted up at the sky. It had been cold and clear for three days now, but fat white clouds had gathered on the horizon and spread across the sky like a cancer, blotting out the light of the moon. It was a dark night.
Footsteps shuffled on the polished wood floor inside the temple. Sanzo closed his eyes and listened to them, and thought of the days not very long ago when the sound would have been from one of the initiates sneaking into the kitchen or one of the priests checking the lanterns. Now it only meant the end of a peaceful moment.
The door that connected the room behind him to the hall rattled as it was shoved it open carelessly. Sanzo sighed, and watched his breath fog in front of him in a misty cloud.
“Sanzo? Ah, it’s cold!”
Sanzo slanted a look to the side and watched Goku put a bare foot on the stone floor of the veranda before hopping up and down in place. He could see Goku’s breath coming in short bursts, making small fogs in the air that barely dissipated before the next one appeared.
“Then don’t come out here, dumbass.” Sanzo raised the cigarette to his mouth. It had burned almost down to the filter, and he couldn’t feel the warmth from the burning end even when he put a finger close to it.
Goku wandered outside anyway, as Sanzo had expected. He stood near the edge of the grass, bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly.
Sanzo wondered why he was barefoot in the cold anyway, before remembering that he needed new shoes, again. He’d outgrown the pair Sanzo had bought for him not two months before. Hakkai had said it was normal for children to grow that quickly. Sanzo supposed he’d have to take his word for it.
He watched Goku standing in the grass, peering up at the sky. His newly-shortened blew around his face in the wind. Hakkai had sheared it the day before. Sanzo supposed it looked better. At the very least, it made Goku look less like a feral child. If he’d had shoes on, he would have almost looked like a respectable initiate.
Almost.
“It’s going to snow, isn’t it?”
Sanzo turned his eyes back to the sky. The clouds crept over the sky and smothered out the last few visible stars.
“Guess so.” He crushed the spent cigarette under his heel, and patted down his pockets. He let his hand linger on the crumpled package of Marlboros, but didn’t take another one out.
“It will,” Goku said, decisively. “I can smell it.”
Sanzo had learned to let such comments pass without remark. Had anyone else claimed to smell the snow, he would have written it off as a superstitious delusion. But with Goku, Sanzo supposed it might be true enough. He said nothing.
Goku shuffled over to the stone steps leading to the courtyard. He crouched beside a small cluster of snowdrops and poked at them with a finger. “The flowers will die.”
Sanzo made a vague noise of assent.
Goku seemed to interpret it as a question, and straightened slightly.
“The flowers. When it snows, they’ll all die.”
Sanzo was surprised to find that Goku sounded downright sad, as if the death of the little patch of flowers was the end of the world.
“So? They’ll come back next year.”
Goku shook his head and half-smiled.
The expression startled Sanzo so much he dropped his hand from where it had been brushing over his cigarette packet. Goku looked...not quite amused, but understanding. As if he knew something that he had no hope of communicating to Sanzo.
It put a bitter, heavy weight in Sanzo’s stomach. He knew that look. He’d had it leveled at him a thousand times before. He’d known that look from the days when he’d been small enough to need someone to hold his hand and lead him around the temple, someone to guide his hands to some plant or stone or insect and say, Look at this, Kouryuu!
He remained silent. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.
Goku turned away from him, and regarded the bedraggled cluster of flowers quietly.
Sanzo slipped a cigarette from his pocket and brought it to his mouth. Holding it between his teeth, he fumbled with his lighter, which had turned stubborn in the cold night air. It clicked twice before sparking on the third try. He watch the flame flicker, catch on the end of the cigarette, and gutter out into the darkness.
He waited for a few moments, silently, but nothing came. Goku squatted, sat on the steps and looked up at the sky, but didn’t speak.
It seemed to Sanzo like it hadn’t been very long ago that he would have had to tie Goku to a tree to get him to hold still for more than three seconds. Goku drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His limbs seemed longer than they had before.
Sanzo watched him, and felt almost startled.
He’d realized vaguely that Goku was growing. Every time Gojyo saw him, he scuffed a hand over Goku’s hair and said he was shooting up like a weed. Sanzo had never seen much of a difference from one day to the next.
But the young man who watched the flowers now was really nothing like the child who couldn’t think of anything but food for more than half a minute. Really nothing like him at all.
The snowdrops beside Goku weren’t dead yet. Sanzo leaned over Goku’s hunched back, and brushed a thump along the edge of one wilted petal. They weren’t dead, but they were on their way, battered by the chill of too many cold nights and not enough sun. It was easy enough to slide a nail through the stem and snap one blossom off.
Sanzo tipped it slightly, and twirled it between his fingers.
He’d never been able to see any particular beauty in flowers. He dropped it into Goku’s lap.
Goku caught it. He held the flower like it was something precious and valuable, and after a few seconds, he looked up.
“Can we plant some more, in the spring?”
Sanzo dropped his spent cigarette in the dirt, next to the dying plant.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Sure.”
Author: cicer
Warnings: None
Pairing(s): None, unless you want to see it that way?
Notes: For Prompt #46: Seeds. 1,112 words. Took about 40 minutes. Sorry this is a little late!
The air outside was so cold it hurt to breathe. The cigarette smoke provided little comfort, but it was better than nothing. Sanzo cupped the cigarette in his hands to shield it from the breeze and leaned against one of the stone pillars on the temple veranda.
He squinted up at the sky. It had been cold and clear for three days now, but fat white clouds had gathered on the horizon and spread across the sky like a cancer, blotting out the light of the moon. It was a dark night.
Footsteps shuffled on the polished wood floor inside the temple. Sanzo closed his eyes and listened to them, and thought of the days not very long ago when the sound would have been from one of the initiates sneaking into the kitchen or one of the priests checking the lanterns. Now it only meant the end of a peaceful moment.
The door that connected the room behind him to the hall rattled as it was shoved it open carelessly. Sanzo sighed, and watched his breath fog in front of him in a misty cloud.
“Sanzo? Ah, it’s cold!”
Sanzo slanted a look to the side and watched Goku put a bare foot on the stone floor of the veranda before hopping up and down in place. He could see Goku’s breath coming in short bursts, making small fogs in the air that barely dissipated before the next one appeared.
“Then don’t come out here, dumbass.” Sanzo raised the cigarette to his mouth. It had burned almost down to the filter, and he couldn’t feel the warmth from the burning end even when he put a finger close to it.
Goku wandered outside anyway, as Sanzo had expected. He stood near the edge of the grass, bouncing on the balls of his feet lightly.
Sanzo wondered why he was barefoot in the cold anyway, before remembering that he needed new shoes, again. He’d outgrown the pair Sanzo had bought for him not two months before. Hakkai had said it was normal for children to grow that quickly. Sanzo supposed he’d have to take his word for it.
He watched Goku standing in the grass, peering up at the sky. His newly-shortened blew around his face in the wind. Hakkai had sheared it the day before. Sanzo supposed it looked better. At the very least, it made Goku look less like a feral child. If he’d had shoes on, he would have almost looked like a respectable initiate.
Almost.
“It’s going to snow, isn’t it?”
Sanzo turned his eyes back to the sky. The clouds crept over the sky and smothered out the last few visible stars.
“Guess so.” He crushed the spent cigarette under his heel, and patted down his pockets. He let his hand linger on the crumpled package of Marlboros, but didn’t take another one out.
“It will,” Goku said, decisively. “I can smell it.”
Sanzo had learned to let such comments pass without remark. Had anyone else claimed to smell the snow, he would have written it off as a superstitious delusion. But with Goku, Sanzo supposed it might be true enough. He said nothing.
Goku shuffled over to the stone steps leading to the courtyard. He crouched beside a small cluster of snowdrops and poked at them with a finger. “The flowers will die.”
Sanzo made a vague noise of assent.
Goku seemed to interpret it as a question, and straightened slightly.
“The flowers. When it snows, they’ll all die.”
Sanzo was surprised to find that Goku sounded downright sad, as if the death of the little patch of flowers was the end of the world.
“So? They’ll come back next year.”
Goku shook his head and half-smiled.
The expression startled Sanzo so much he dropped his hand from where it had been brushing over his cigarette packet. Goku looked...not quite amused, but understanding. As if he knew something that he had no hope of communicating to Sanzo.
It put a bitter, heavy weight in Sanzo’s stomach. He knew that look. He’d had it leveled at him a thousand times before. He’d known that look from the days when he’d been small enough to need someone to hold his hand and lead him around the temple, someone to guide his hands to some plant or stone or insect and say, Look at this, Kouryuu!
He remained silent. There didn’t seem to be anything to say.
Goku turned away from him, and regarded the bedraggled cluster of flowers quietly.
Sanzo slipped a cigarette from his pocket and brought it to his mouth. Holding it between his teeth, he fumbled with his lighter, which had turned stubborn in the cold night air. It clicked twice before sparking on the third try. He watch the flame flicker, catch on the end of the cigarette, and gutter out into the darkness.
He waited for a few moments, silently, but nothing came. Goku squatted, sat on the steps and looked up at the sky, but didn’t speak.
It seemed to Sanzo like it hadn’t been very long ago that he would have had to tie Goku to a tree to get him to hold still for more than three seconds. Goku drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms around them. His limbs seemed longer than they had before.
Sanzo watched him, and felt almost startled.
He’d realized vaguely that Goku was growing. Every time Gojyo saw him, he scuffed a hand over Goku’s hair and said he was shooting up like a weed. Sanzo had never seen much of a difference from one day to the next.
But the young man who watched the flowers now was really nothing like the child who couldn’t think of anything but food for more than half a minute. Really nothing like him at all.
The snowdrops beside Goku weren’t dead yet. Sanzo leaned over Goku’s hunched back, and brushed a thump along the edge of one wilted petal. They weren’t dead, but they were on their way, battered by the chill of too many cold nights and not enough sun. It was easy enough to slide a nail through the stem and snap one blossom off.
Sanzo tipped it slightly, and twirled it between his fingers.
He’d never been able to see any particular beauty in flowers. He dropped it into Goku’s lap.
Goku caught it. He held the flower like it was something precious and valuable, and after a few seconds, he looked up.
“Can we plant some more, in the spring?”
Sanzo dropped his spent cigarette in the dirt, next to the dying plant.
“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Sure.”