Garlic Cure - challenge #11: smell
Hakkai sat on the couch in the dark. Gojyo had gone to the inn earlier. He thought that he’d been staring at his hands for almost an hour now. Or maybe it’s just for a minute. He didn’t know, more correctly, he didn’t care.
He lifted his hands to his nose. He smelled his fingers, and then he smelled his palms. He could smell the dishwasher soap he used when cleaning the dishes after dinner. If he inhale more deeply he could smell the detergent he used for laundry this morning. Underlying all of it was still the smell of blood. Half a village's and a thousand youkai’s blood still embedded in his skin.
He didn’t realize Gojyo had returned until the redhead sat beside him.
“What are you doing?” Gojyo’s voice was harsh, but he thought he can hear a tinge of sadness in it.
“I can still smell the blood, Gojyo. Even if I’ve washed my hands raw, I can still smell it.”
Gojyo stood abruptly and Hakkai didn’t need to turn his head to know that he went into the kitchen. He heard the sounds of drawers being opened and a chopping sound. Gojyo returned to the couch and stood in front of him.
“Gimme your hands.”
It must have not been as fast as gojyo liked, because the kappa grabbed his wrists with one hand and thrust an object in them.
“Garlic?”
“Half of a garlic actually.” Gojyo took the garlic and rubbed it across Hakkai’s palms and then all over his fingers. The odor wafted up between them both. Strong and pungent.
“You told me before. When you chopped garlic, the smell sometimes stays on your hands for days. So, yeah, that garlic should do the work.”
He searched his friend’s face and saw the concern that squeezed his heart painfully.
“Gojyo. Why are your eyes red?”
“It’s because that damn garlic makes my eyes water when I cut it.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell Gojyo that only onions make people cry.
He lifted his hands to his nose. He smelled his fingers, and then he smelled his palms. He could smell the dishwasher soap he used when cleaning the dishes after dinner. If he inhale more deeply he could smell the detergent he used for laundry this morning. Underlying all of it was still the smell of blood. Half a village's and a thousand youkai’s blood still embedded in his skin.
He didn’t realize Gojyo had returned until the redhead sat beside him.
“What are you doing?” Gojyo’s voice was harsh, but he thought he can hear a tinge of sadness in it.
“I can still smell the blood, Gojyo. Even if I’ve washed my hands raw, I can still smell it.”
Gojyo stood abruptly and Hakkai didn’t need to turn his head to know that he went into the kitchen. He heard the sounds of drawers being opened and a chopping sound. Gojyo returned to the couch and stood in front of him.
“Gimme your hands.”
It must have not been as fast as gojyo liked, because the kappa grabbed his wrists with one hand and thrust an object in them.
“Garlic?”
“Half of a garlic actually.” Gojyo took the garlic and rubbed it across Hakkai’s palms and then all over his fingers. The odor wafted up between them both. Strong and pungent.
“You told me before. When you chopped garlic, the smell sometimes stays on your hands for days. So, yeah, that garlic should do the work.”
He searched his friend’s face and saw the concern that squeezed his heart painfully.
“Gojyo. Why are your eyes red?”
“It’s because that damn garlic makes my eyes water when I cut it.”
He didn’t have the heart to tell Gojyo that only onions make people cry.