Two if By Sea Part 16/?
Amazing! I can hardly believe it's time for another update, but I realize it's been a couple weeks.
You all know the drill, right? This story is a pervasive, hard pg-13 (if there is such a thing...) It just hasn't made it into R territory. Yet.
Previous parts, summary, etc. found here, at the index.
=========
Hakkai lay down to sleep far into the night. By the time he had tucked Gojyo into the freshly made bed, it was quite late. It had been some hours since the stars had come out, and now they were fully bright and shone in through the curtains that hung across the window.
Hakkai kept drifting in and out of sleep, experiencing the same disorientation every time he tipped back toward consciousness. In a more lucid moment between snatches of sleep, he thought how strange it was that such a small change could translate into such a difference in perspective. He was on the floor next to the bed; he was, perhaps, three feet from his usual sleeping space. But now, everything looked strange. The shadows thrown by the furniture were different. The nighttime noises he heard were distorted. And, strangest of all, were the slight sounds Gojyo made. It was almost frightening, waking up in the dark, fully expecting to be alone, and then to hear someone else there, someone else breathing in the night air.
He didn’t sleep well.
Rising shortly before dawn, Hakkai was still tired. At first he tried to convince himself that he could stay in bed for just a minute more. But Gojyo stirred in the bed above his head, and Hakkai gave a start. He realized then that he had things to do, things that Gojyo shouldn’t have to see. Hakkai got up quietly. He folded the blanket and put it and the pillow out of the way. He fetched clothing from the armoire, and a towel.
Hakkai sneaked out of the room and went downstairs across the hall into the kitchen. He closed and bolted the doors shut. Hakkai stoked the fire and, after a quick trip to the cistern, hung a kettle of water to heat. He laid his nightclothes neatly over the back of a chair. While he waited for hot water, he got out a small box of soap and a cloth, and set up the tin washtub next to the hearth.
He dipped the cloth in the lukewarm water, and then scraped a bit of soap onto it. Hakkai lathered the cloth. He stepped into the tub.
He scrubbed himself laboriously, removing the remaining traces of yesterday. His impromptu wash the night before hadn't been especially effective, it seemed. Soon enough, though, he was clean from the shoulders down. He shivered in the still-chill morning air. Hakkai rinsed his cloth and soaped it up again. Now he concentrated on his face and neck. He washed away the remains of yesterday's cosmetic applications, soaping and scrubbing until nothing showed on the washcloth. Hakkai winced to himself; normally fastidious, he'd forgotten to do so before going to bed. Still, yesterday had been quite unusual, and forgetting once wouldn't be harmful.
When he felt he was clean, Hakkai rinsed with the water, now hot enough to emit curls of steam. The dirty water collected in the washtub. He toweled off, perfunctory, and stepped out in front of the fire, letting his toes warm on the hearth.
Hakkai pulled on a pair of pants and buttoned them up the front. He tried not to think too hard about the similarities the action bore to what he'd done for Gojyo last night. It was rather a failed effort.
Hakkai fetched a small key, hanging on a nail by the kitchen door. He unlocked an equally small lock on the only locked cupboard in the room. He hung the key up again. Opening the cupboard door, Hakkai shied away from the mirror that hung on the inside of it. Even so, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the tattoos that crept up from his torso, over his neck and onto his face. He sighed. More mistakes to correct, even though all he could do was palliative, at this point.
He removed a tray from the cupboard and set it onto the counter. Several tins and bottles lay on it, along with a few paintbrushes that had cost the earth, considering they were made not with horsehair or boar bristles, but with fine, delicate camel hairs. Hakkai sighed again. It was all worth it, though. He needed them, needed this. He reached for the largest tin and a piece of sponge that lay beside the brushes.
Meticulous and slow, Hakkai covered up his tattoos with cosmetics. As he worked and as the markings faded away, he looked into the mirror more and more frequently. Something tight in his chest eased as he painted over the inked lines. He covered anything that his shirt would leave bare. He even took the time to make sure the backs of his hands were reduced to blank slates again. Hakkai finished up quickly, brushing a final layer of powder over the top, to help prevent smudging. He glanced in the mirror. The man who stared back was perfect. Hakkai replaced the tray in the cupboard.
Then, as he always did this time of year, he took stock of the contents of the cupboard. The finished cosmetics were running low, as was his supply of powdered lead. At least he had enough chalk and pigments to make a new batch, though. He sighed, thinking ahead to when he'd need to mix up more makeup.
Getting the lead would take some weeks. Hakkai would have to fetch it himself this year; his usual supplier had been killed recently, and he had had no time to find a new one. He calculated expenses, again. There was the price of passage, both ways, and money for bribes, and for the lead itself which would almost undoubtedly involve haggling, a process which he disliked immensely.
Hakkai gave the cosmetic supplies one last look, locked the cupboard up again, and hung the key on the nail for the second time. He put on his clean shirt, careful not to let the fabric touch the makeup. He put away the soap and dumped the bathwater into the sink, where it gurgled slowly down the drain. He opened the kitchen doors again.
Hakkai crept upstairs. He put away his nightclothes and hung his towel to dry. A quick look at Gojyo showed that the man was still sleeping, and so Hakkai left the room just as quietly as he had the first time. There would be plenty of time, later, to try and rouse him. Again, a shiver racked Hakkai, and he thought it was probably a good idea to avoid Gojyo for now. He tried to convince himself that it was more important to launder his guest's clothing, anyway, than to hang around at his bedside, waiting for him to wake.
Going back downstairs, Hakkai was surprised to see that the sun had already come up over the horizon. It was nearly time to open shop, and he still had so much to do. He had laundry to wash and hang, and breakfast to make. He had to try to wake Gojyo and, if necessary, attempt further treatment of his wounds. Making a mental list, Hakkai added one more item to the morning's agenda. The goose.
Every year, Hakkai raised and slaughtered a goose. He cared for it, fattened it, fed it from his hand. And every year, on the anniversary of his beloved's death, he killed it. Then he rendered the fat and kept it for the base of his cosmetics. There were many reasons to go through such a laborious process, but perhaps the best, most sane of the lot was that it gave him something to do besides count the years as he lived his life on this island, so far from the land of his birth.
This was the sixth goose now, and it was happy and unaware of its fate as it grew fat in the small back garden. But Hakkai knew the approaching hour, as it were, felt it clenching tightly around his heart. All too soon another year would slip beyond him, taking more of his memories with it. With her.
He crossed to the back door, thought he ought to spend some time with the goose. He could keep an eye on it and do the wash at the same time. It would be an efficient use of his time. He scooped up a handful of dry corn from a nearby sack and smiled to himself. The goose would enjoy this treat. He turned to the back door.
Hakkai froze. A mahjong tile lay on the threshold, a neat, white shape against the darkness of the door. It read "destruction." He kicked it out of the way. Hakkai walked past, spine stiff, the smile still affixed to his face. The back of his neck prickled. Gojyo would be safe, wouldn't he?
A deep, pervasive ache started in Hakkai's right eye, spreading outward until half his face was swallowed by the sensation. For a moment, the impulse to run back upstairs and check on him was overwhelming, but it passed. Gojyo was safe. When Sanzo returned, Hakkai could ask him to take a look at the mahjong tiles. There. Problem solved. He knuckled his eye, but the pain did not lessen, even as he willed it to.
Hakkai breathed deeply. He loosened his grip on the door, walked through, and shut it tight. He yanked on the handle once, just to be sure it wouldn't spring open again as soon as he'd turned his back. The door didn't budge. He considered opening it and shutting it again, more firmly this time. He thought of the tile on the other side. At last, he let himself turn away.
"Coward," he said. "You coward."
Hakkai smiled sharply and left the door as it was.
========
Alas, I have little time to talk. But, I am happy to say, I'm excited that I actually finished this chapter. I thought I was never going to get to a good stopping point! (I had had plans to just go on ahead to when Gojyo wakes up, but I'm kind of glad I detoured.)
~later
You all know the drill, right? This story is a pervasive, hard pg-13 (if there is such a thing...) It just hasn't made it into R territory. Yet.
Previous parts, summary, etc. found here, at the index.
=========
Hakkai lay down to sleep far into the night. By the time he had tucked Gojyo into the freshly made bed, it was quite late. It had been some hours since the stars had come out, and now they were fully bright and shone in through the curtains that hung across the window.
Hakkai kept drifting in and out of sleep, experiencing the same disorientation every time he tipped back toward consciousness. In a more lucid moment between snatches of sleep, he thought how strange it was that such a small change could translate into such a difference in perspective. He was on the floor next to the bed; he was, perhaps, three feet from his usual sleeping space. But now, everything looked strange. The shadows thrown by the furniture were different. The nighttime noises he heard were distorted. And, strangest of all, were the slight sounds Gojyo made. It was almost frightening, waking up in the dark, fully expecting to be alone, and then to hear someone else there, someone else breathing in the night air.
He didn’t sleep well.
Rising shortly before dawn, Hakkai was still tired. At first he tried to convince himself that he could stay in bed for just a minute more. But Gojyo stirred in the bed above his head, and Hakkai gave a start. He realized then that he had things to do, things that Gojyo shouldn’t have to see. Hakkai got up quietly. He folded the blanket and put it and the pillow out of the way. He fetched clothing from the armoire, and a towel.
Hakkai sneaked out of the room and went downstairs across the hall into the kitchen. He closed and bolted the doors shut. Hakkai stoked the fire and, after a quick trip to the cistern, hung a kettle of water to heat. He laid his nightclothes neatly over the back of a chair. While he waited for hot water, he got out a small box of soap and a cloth, and set up the tin washtub next to the hearth.
He dipped the cloth in the lukewarm water, and then scraped a bit of soap onto it. Hakkai lathered the cloth. He stepped into the tub.
He scrubbed himself laboriously, removing the remaining traces of yesterday. His impromptu wash the night before hadn't been especially effective, it seemed. Soon enough, though, he was clean from the shoulders down. He shivered in the still-chill morning air. Hakkai rinsed his cloth and soaped it up again. Now he concentrated on his face and neck. He washed away the remains of yesterday's cosmetic applications, soaping and scrubbing until nothing showed on the washcloth. Hakkai winced to himself; normally fastidious, he'd forgotten to do so before going to bed. Still, yesterday had been quite unusual, and forgetting once wouldn't be harmful.
When he felt he was clean, Hakkai rinsed with the water, now hot enough to emit curls of steam. The dirty water collected in the washtub. He toweled off, perfunctory, and stepped out in front of the fire, letting his toes warm on the hearth.
Hakkai pulled on a pair of pants and buttoned them up the front. He tried not to think too hard about the similarities the action bore to what he'd done for Gojyo last night. It was rather a failed effort.
Hakkai fetched a small key, hanging on a nail by the kitchen door. He unlocked an equally small lock on the only locked cupboard in the room. He hung the key up again. Opening the cupboard door, Hakkai shied away from the mirror that hung on the inside of it. Even so, out of the corner of his eyes, he caught sight of the tattoos that crept up from his torso, over his neck and onto his face. He sighed. More mistakes to correct, even though all he could do was palliative, at this point.
He removed a tray from the cupboard and set it onto the counter. Several tins and bottles lay on it, along with a few paintbrushes that had cost the earth, considering they were made not with horsehair or boar bristles, but with fine, delicate camel hairs. Hakkai sighed again. It was all worth it, though. He needed them, needed this. He reached for the largest tin and a piece of sponge that lay beside the brushes.
Meticulous and slow, Hakkai covered up his tattoos with cosmetics. As he worked and as the markings faded away, he looked into the mirror more and more frequently. Something tight in his chest eased as he painted over the inked lines. He covered anything that his shirt would leave bare. He even took the time to make sure the backs of his hands were reduced to blank slates again. Hakkai finished up quickly, brushing a final layer of powder over the top, to help prevent smudging. He glanced in the mirror. The man who stared back was perfect. Hakkai replaced the tray in the cupboard.
Then, as he always did this time of year, he took stock of the contents of the cupboard. The finished cosmetics were running low, as was his supply of powdered lead. At least he had enough chalk and pigments to make a new batch, though. He sighed, thinking ahead to when he'd need to mix up more makeup.
Getting the lead would take some weeks. Hakkai would have to fetch it himself this year; his usual supplier had been killed recently, and he had had no time to find a new one. He calculated expenses, again. There was the price of passage, both ways, and money for bribes, and for the lead itself which would almost undoubtedly involve haggling, a process which he disliked immensely.
Hakkai gave the cosmetic supplies one last look, locked the cupboard up again, and hung the key on the nail for the second time. He put on his clean shirt, careful not to let the fabric touch the makeup. He put away the soap and dumped the bathwater into the sink, where it gurgled slowly down the drain. He opened the kitchen doors again.
Hakkai crept upstairs. He put away his nightclothes and hung his towel to dry. A quick look at Gojyo showed that the man was still sleeping, and so Hakkai left the room just as quietly as he had the first time. There would be plenty of time, later, to try and rouse him. Again, a shiver racked Hakkai, and he thought it was probably a good idea to avoid Gojyo for now. He tried to convince himself that it was more important to launder his guest's clothing, anyway, than to hang around at his bedside, waiting for him to wake.
Going back downstairs, Hakkai was surprised to see that the sun had already come up over the horizon. It was nearly time to open shop, and he still had so much to do. He had laundry to wash and hang, and breakfast to make. He had to try to wake Gojyo and, if necessary, attempt further treatment of his wounds. Making a mental list, Hakkai added one more item to the morning's agenda. The goose.
Every year, Hakkai raised and slaughtered a goose. He cared for it, fattened it, fed it from his hand. And every year, on the anniversary of his beloved's death, he killed it. Then he rendered the fat and kept it for the base of his cosmetics. There were many reasons to go through such a laborious process, but perhaps the best, most sane of the lot was that it gave him something to do besides count the years as he lived his life on this island, so far from the land of his birth.
This was the sixth goose now, and it was happy and unaware of its fate as it grew fat in the small back garden. But Hakkai knew the approaching hour, as it were, felt it clenching tightly around his heart. All too soon another year would slip beyond him, taking more of his memories with it. With her.
He crossed to the back door, thought he ought to spend some time with the goose. He could keep an eye on it and do the wash at the same time. It would be an efficient use of his time. He scooped up a handful of dry corn from a nearby sack and smiled to himself. The goose would enjoy this treat. He turned to the back door.
Hakkai froze. A mahjong tile lay on the threshold, a neat, white shape against the darkness of the door. It read "destruction." He kicked it out of the way. Hakkai walked past, spine stiff, the smile still affixed to his face. The back of his neck prickled. Gojyo would be safe, wouldn't he?
A deep, pervasive ache started in Hakkai's right eye, spreading outward until half his face was swallowed by the sensation. For a moment, the impulse to run back upstairs and check on him was overwhelming, but it passed. Gojyo was safe. When Sanzo returned, Hakkai could ask him to take a look at the mahjong tiles. There. Problem solved. He knuckled his eye, but the pain did not lessen, even as he willed it to.
Hakkai breathed deeply. He loosened his grip on the door, walked through, and shut it tight. He yanked on the handle once, just to be sure it wouldn't spring open again as soon as he'd turned his back. The door didn't budge. He considered opening it and shutting it again, more firmly this time. He thought of the tile on the other side. At last, he let himself turn away.
"Coward," he said. "You coward."
Hakkai smiled sharply and left the door as it was.
========
Alas, I have little time to talk. But, I am happy to say, I'm excited that I actually finished this chapter. I thought I was never going to get to a good stopping point! (I had had plans to just go on ahead to when Gojyo wakes up, but I'm kind of glad I detoured.)
~later