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Saiyuki oneshot - "The Taste of Home."
Title: The Taste of Home.
Author: Rune
Notes: Beta'd by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ranalore. Originally this was supposed to be the beginning of a much longer piece, but it (meaning I) lost steam and it was abandoned on the hard drive. Showed it to new_kate though, who rather liked it and suggested I share it anyway. So this one's for her.
It was only tea. It had only ever been tea and would only ever be tea. The green leaves of a plant, steeped in hot water, strained away until all that was left was liquid, colour. A faint green in a white ceramic dish. There was nothing great or profound about any part of that. The leaves weren’t a metaphor for dreams not yet realized. The water didn’t stand for the trials and tribulations of life, soaking out those dreams until only the essence of the dream remained. The cup had never been been the final outcome, the background against which the purity of those dreams would be measured.
Gojyo looked down into the small steaming cup in his hands. It was only tea. Tea that Hakkai should have had poured and that he, Gojyo, would have drunk because it was Hakkai who’d made it, but he never saw Hakkai any more.
Originally, the plan had been for him and Hakkai to get a place together again. But then there’d been the offer for Hakkai to go and teach at a school up north, in the mountains, and Gojyo hated the cold. Hakkai had been loath to give up an opportunity like that, and Gojyo wasn’t about to hold him back, so he’d stayed in the city and Hakkai had gone. The parting had been fine. It was only going to be for three months anyway. They’d miss each other, but it wasn’t a big deal. They were both grown men. They were fine. It was fine.
Sanzo had moved back into the temple, with Goku, making life a living hell for everyone he could. Gojyo had the sneaking suspicion that Sanzo was getting some kind of payback for being sent out to save the world in the first place, and for once, he had to agree with the man. It was decidedly pleasant to know that he’d be offered a beer on the front steps of the temple every time he went to visit, if only because it would make the more pious men there wince and mutter behind their hands.
Fall had passed then, and Gojyo filled his days with mindless work -- construction wasn’t so bad, really -- and visiting the monk and monkey on his days off. The house was small, with two bedrooms that might well have been closets, and a kitchen not much larger. He’d never been all that great a cook, but he figured three months was long enough to learn how to do something. Omelets maybe, or pasta. Anything really, as long as it was a meal, something he could put on a plate in front of Hakkai when the man came home and say, “See, I did this for you.” Why exactly, he wasn’t sure, but on the Tuesday of his first week alone, he’d gotten it into his head that he wanted to cook Hakkai dinner. Didn’t matter that the man was miles away and going farther. No, what mattered was that he was going to come back and Gojyo was damn well going to show him how glad he would be when that happened.
Except, three months passed -- Gojyo mastered the art of both grilled cheese and spaghetti, but not bread or good tea -- and what arrived at his door wasn’t a smiling young man in a green jacket, but instead a small shy boy with an envelope.
Thick white envelopes had come once a week since Hakkai had left. Twelve of them, Hakkai had promised, one for every week that he was gone. Heavy cream paper and green ink -- a pen Goku had given him, Gojyo remembered -- addressed in a neat hand that made him smile even before he tore it open. Three months’ separation marked out, not on a calendar, but with hash marks by the door, scratched into the wall with the letter opener. There was never supposed to be a thirteenth letter.
An apology-- in a letter thinner than the others -- because the students were doing so well, and with winter coming he would have more time with them, and -- Gojyo stopped reading when he saw the closing of the letter. Hakkai was promising to visit. No one ‘visited’ home.
It wasn’t until he’d mastered waffles, with or without fruit, that he stopped counting the letters. They still came, and he read them, but the notches in the door frame had been replaced by the slowly growing stack of recipe cards inside the box on the kitchen window sill.
Author: Rune
Notes: Beta'd by
ranalore. Originally this was supposed to be the beginning of a much longer piece, but it (meaning I) lost steam and it was abandoned on the hard drive. Showed it to new_kate though, who rather liked it and suggested I share it anyway. So this one's for her.It was only tea. It had only ever been tea and would only ever be tea. The green leaves of a plant, steeped in hot water, strained away until all that was left was liquid, colour. A faint green in a white ceramic dish. There was nothing great or profound about any part of that. The leaves weren’t a metaphor for dreams not yet realized. The water didn’t stand for the trials and tribulations of life, soaking out those dreams until only the essence of the dream remained. The cup had never been been the final outcome, the background against which the purity of those dreams would be measured.
Gojyo looked down into the small steaming cup in his hands. It was only tea. Tea that Hakkai should have had poured and that he, Gojyo, would have drunk because it was Hakkai who’d made it, but he never saw Hakkai any more.
Originally, the plan had been for him and Hakkai to get a place together again. But then there’d been the offer for Hakkai to go and teach at a school up north, in the mountains, and Gojyo hated the cold. Hakkai had been loath to give up an opportunity like that, and Gojyo wasn’t about to hold him back, so he’d stayed in the city and Hakkai had gone. The parting had been fine. It was only going to be for three months anyway. They’d miss each other, but it wasn’t a big deal. They were both grown men. They were fine. It was fine.
Sanzo had moved back into the temple, with Goku, making life a living hell for everyone he could. Gojyo had the sneaking suspicion that Sanzo was getting some kind of payback for being sent out to save the world in the first place, and for once, he had to agree with the man. It was decidedly pleasant to know that he’d be offered a beer on the front steps of the temple every time he went to visit, if only because it would make the more pious men there wince and mutter behind their hands.
Fall had passed then, and Gojyo filled his days with mindless work -- construction wasn’t so bad, really -- and visiting the monk and monkey on his days off. The house was small, with two bedrooms that might well have been closets, and a kitchen not much larger. He’d never been all that great a cook, but he figured three months was long enough to learn how to do something. Omelets maybe, or pasta. Anything really, as long as it was a meal, something he could put on a plate in front of Hakkai when the man came home and say, “See, I did this for you.” Why exactly, he wasn’t sure, but on the Tuesday of his first week alone, he’d gotten it into his head that he wanted to cook Hakkai dinner. Didn’t matter that the man was miles away and going farther. No, what mattered was that he was going to come back and Gojyo was damn well going to show him how glad he would be when that happened.
Except, three months passed -- Gojyo mastered the art of both grilled cheese and spaghetti, but not bread or good tea -- and what arrived at his door wasn’t a smiling young man in a green jacket, but instead a small shy boy with an envelope.
Thick white envelopes had come once a week since Hakkai had left. Twelve of them, Hakkai had promised, one for every week that he was gone. Heavy cream paper and green ink -- a pen Goku had given him, Gojyo remembered -- addressed in a neat hand that made him smile even before he tore it open. Three months’ separation marked out, not on a calendar, but with hash marks by the door, scratched into the wall with the letter opener. There was never supposed to be a thirteenth letter.
An apology-- in a letter thinner than the others -- because the students were doing so well, and with winter coming he would have more time with them, and -- Gojyo stopped reading when he saw the closing of the letter. Hakkai was promising to visit. No one ‘visited’ home.
It wasn’t until he’d mastered waffles, with or without fruit, that he stopped counting the letters. They still came, and he read them, but the notches in the door frame had been replaced by the slowly growing stack of recipe cards inside the box on the kitchen window sill.
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you just went and crushed my 585 heart and I loved it
*cries more*
Still think it should be much longer. It's just so good...
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Stupid, stupid Gojyo! How can he let this happen? Here, let me wire him the train fare.
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The heart went jerk and the pain of guilt and empathy was real and-- *wails again* Waaaaah.
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Translation: Dude, you hurt me, but it hurts so good.
*wibbles*
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But yeah, Gojyo on his own is absolutely one of the saddest thing ever. Except for maybe I-just-killed-my-best-friend-and-first-boy-friend!Ken. But let's not mix our fandom of pain, shall we? *G*
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If not a continuation, might you be willing to write a companion piece?
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What I keep wondering now is if Gojyo writes back...
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t: *takes on sonorous/hypnotic tone* companion piece, companion piece, companion piece, coooompaaaanionnnn pieeeeeeece....
At which point, Sanzo would no doubt shoot me for my lousy spoof of buddhist meditation. Of course, he himself is rather a lousy spoof of buddhist traditions... *ponders* *grins*
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i'm torn between wanting a sequel to make everything better, and wanting it to stay just as is, because it's beautiful this way.
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I'm stoked you liked it!
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This is beautiful. This is so beautifully sad that I actually swallowed my pride and nearly started crying in front of seven people who know nothing of fanfiction. That does *not* happen often.
I love the aspect of wondering if Hakkai will Come Back. I love the cooking, the recipe cards, the way you define everything without clear-cut rigidity. This is *amazing*.
(All hail the mighty one *worships*)
...mind if I friend you?
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And of course you can friend me!
I'll be friending you back too. *G*