fic: Sea Breeze (2/3)
I slept for most of the next day, rising only to use the bathroom and eat lunch with Adashino. The house was relatively cool in the shadow of the towering bamboo grove, but the unnaturally hot summer still succeeded in invading my consciousness.
I stuck my feet out from under the futon and tried to trip Adashino over when the other man stepped over me carrying an overloaded box. Heh, it worked.
Adashino spluttered at me from within the haze of dust motes swirling around us.
"What the fuck, Ginko." He said, beginning to gather up the various 'rarities' from the tatami mats. I grinned but passed him the few I could reach without breaking my stitches. My hand ran across a damp patch on the tatami. I picked up the bottle and frowned at the hairline fracture across it, then sniffed it.
"Oi, Adashino, this is broken." I said. Adashino glared at me and grabbed the bottle.
"I liked this one! Look at the blue willow pattern - you hardly ever see that in stoppered drinking vessels - and you broke it!" He said, seeming to run out of anger and into dejection fairly quickly.
"It's sake, right? We could drink it." I smirked.
"…That’s a good suggestion." Adashino replied, and pulled me to my feet.
*/*/*/*/*
We sat side by side on the warm porch, more than halfway through the bottle. I gazed lazily towards the sea, watching the tiny shapes of fishermen and craft through the ripples of the heat wave. The ocean was still once again, and tiny snatches of voices and the flap of sails drifted up to Adashino's house. The heat reminded me of the mushi I had yet to catch, and I sighed.
"These days you only come around here when you've been beaten up." Adashino remarked suddenly. I stared into my sake dish, watching the sun glint off the china glaze. I knew what he was really saying - I'd known Adashino for long enough that although I didn't quite get the words of what he really meant I understood the sentiment. A challenge - was I off my game? - and loneliness. I'd begun to wonder that myself. Adashino had become far more of a support to me than an acquaintance over the last year or so, and not just because I was having more trouble with mushi.
I remembered walking, for days on end, without seeing another traveller; it did strange things to my head. An endless cycle of walking and dreaming, waking in the darkness of pre-dawn and suddenly, by the light of glowing, silent mushi, being paralyzed by the thought that the tenous connections I had to real places, real people - Tanyuu, Adashino - were nothing but the delusions of the lonely. I had encountered several deranged mushishi over the years: they wandered in the forests and spoke to the mushi alone. Unconsciously, then, I had sought Adashino out.
“What are you thinking about?” Adashino asked, and I shivered despite the heat of the afternoon.
“Not much. That mushi.” My stomach sunk. Even I, the perpetual wanderer, wanted to stay in some places. Adashino jabbed me in the ribs and grinned as I flinched.
“You’re going to have to wait around for at least a week if you want me to get those stitches out.” He said teasingly. I looked at Adashino and silently thanked the god of insight, who had, once again, allowed me to avoid explaining myself. Still, couldn’t put up too grateful a front.
“That mushi’s going to keep making havoc for people’s crops. You know I can’t stay.” I said.
Adashino’s eyes narrowed. “Judging by the fact it’s still in this area after a whole day, I think it can wait. I think you can wait, Ginko.”
He pushed me down on the porch, then, and I stared as Adashino picked up the cracked bottle and sloshed the remaining contents over my chest. I groaned in pain and grabbed his wrists as the sake soaked through my bandages and stung along the line of the cut.
“Sadist.” I growled. He smiled as he pushed my arms back against the porch floor and straddled my hips. The detached segment of my mind briefly appreciated the way Adashino could make me forget about everything but the immediate present before quickly vanishing as he kissed me, breath tinged with sake fumes.
“I wouldn’t worry, Ginko. Alcohol’s a natural antiseptic.” Adashino grinned as I shuddered against him.
“But I’m quite prepared to lick it off anyway.”
.
I stuck my feet out from under the futon and tried to trip Adashino over when the other man stepped over me carrying an overloaded box. Heh, it worked.
Adashino spluttered at me from within the haze of dust motes swirling around us.
"What the fuck, Ginko." He said, beginning to gather up the various 'rarities' from the tatami mats. I grinned but passed him the few I could reach without breaking my stitches. My hand ran across a damp patch on the tatami. I picked up the bottle and frowned at the hairline fracture across it, then sniffed it.
"Oi, Adashino, this is broken." I said. Adashino glared at me and grabbed the bottle.
"I liked this one! Look at the blue willow pattern - you hardly ever see that in stoppered drinking vessels - and you broke it!" He said, seeming to run out of anger and into dejection fairly quickly.
"It's sake, right? We could drink it." I smirked.
"…That’s a good suggestion." Adashino replied, and pulled me to my feet.
*/*/*/*/*
We sat side by side on the warm porch, more than halfway through the bottle. I gazed lazily towards the sea, watching the tiny shapes of fishermen and craft through the ripples of the heat wave. The ocean was still once again, and tiny snatches of voices and the flap of sails drifted up to Adashino's house. The heat reminded me of the mushi I had yet to catch, and I sighed.
"These days you only come around here when you've been beaten up." Adashino remarked suddenly. I stared into my sake dish, watching the sun glint off the china glaze. I knew what he was really saying - I'd known Adashino for long enough that although I didn't quite get the words of what he really meant I understood the sentiment. A challenge - was I off my game? - and loneliness. I'd begun to wonder that myself. Adashino had become far more of a support to me than an acquaintance over the last year or so, and not just because I was having more trouble with mushi.
I remembered walking, for days on end, without seeing another traveller; it did strange things to my head. An endless cycle of walking and dreaming, waking in the darkness of pre-dawn and suddenly, by the light of glowing, silent mushi, being paralyzed by the thought that the tenous connections I had to real places, real people - Tanyuu, Adashino - were nothing but the delusions of the lonely. I had encountered several deranged mushishi over the years: they wandered in the forests and spoke to the mushi alone. Unconsciously, then, I had sought Adashino out.
“What are you thinking about?” Adashino asked, and I shivered despite the heat of the afternoon.
“Not much. That mushi.” My stomach sunk. Even I, the perpetual wanderer, wanted to stay in some places. Adashino jabbed me in the ribs and grinned as I flinched.
“You’re going to have to wait around for at least a week if you want me to get those stitches out.” He said teasingly. I looked at Adashino and silently thanked the god of insight, who had, once again, allowed me to avoid explaining myself. Still, couldn’t put up too grateful a front.
“That mushi’s going to keep making havoc for people’s crops. You know I can’t stay.” I said.
Adashino’s eyes narrowed. “Judging by the fact it’s still in this area after a whole day, I think it can wait. I think you can wait, Ginko.”
He pushed me down on the porch, then, and I stared as Adashino picked up the cracked bottle and sloshed the remaining contents over my chest. I groaned in pain and grabbed his wrists as the sake soaked through my bandages and stung along the line of the cut.
“Sadist.” I growled. He smiled as he pushed my arms back against the porch floor and straddled my hips. The detached segment of my mind briefly appreciated the way Adashino could make me forget about everything but the immediate present before quickly vanishing as he kissed me, breath tinged with sake fumes.
“I wouldn’t worry, Ginko. Alcohol’s a natural antiseptic.” Adashino grinned as I shuddered against him.
“But I’m quite prepared to lick it off anyway.”
.