(fic) The Ceremony of Innocence
Aug. 26th, 2007 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cicerWell, I was determined to get some fic finished by the end of the weekend and I made my deadline with an hour and half to spare! Yay! This isn't the porn fic, sadly, though I hope to have that wrapped up in a couple more days. This one is just a product of my affection for Jien and my recent desire to write baby!Gojyo. Also, I'm terribly fond of stories about the Ikkou's childhood and there just doesn't seem to be enough of that! So there we are.
Jien nudged the front door shut behind him and hefted Gojyo on his hip. He distantly heard his mother’s voice from inside the house, but pretended he didn’t. Silently, he fought back a wave of guilt. He reminded himself that she might not even be talking to him, but wasn’t comforted by that thought. The idea of her talking to herself was somehow even worse, particularly since when she did, she often said things Jien wished he didn’t have to hear. After a while, though, he’d become good at turning her out.
He stood outside the closed door, waiting, half expecting to hear a scream or for Mother to come looking for him. After a moment, his mother’s voice faded away and he slowly relaxed and padded down the front steps. Gojyo squirmed in his arms and Jien looked for a place to put him down. He found a soft-looking patch of grass next to the front steps and after checking the space to make sure it was free of sharp stones or sticks, he put his brother down. “Okay,” he muttered, patting Gojyo’s head. “You stay there, all right?” Gojyo blinked at him uncomprehendingly before turning away and tearing up fistfuls of grass. Jien sighed and sat down on the steps and looked out at the scraggly line of trees around the house. It was very quiet and still.
It had been strange for him at first, not living in the city. He’d been used to the crowded streets and close quarters, but after Dad had left, Mom had moved them into a small house a good twenty minutes from the bustle of town. It would be good for him, she had said. He was a growing boy and it would be healthy for him to have plenty of fresh air and room to play. Jien believed her. Back then, she was still okay most of the time. She didn’t lie in bed crying most of the day and forget to make dinner. He had thought she knew what was best for them. She had been trying so hard.
Jien knew she hoped that the woods and rivers would make up for the absence of a father. It didn’t; nothing could. But he tried not to let her know he thought otherwise. He hadn’t wanted to move, but he didn’t argue with her, especially since he knew it wasn’t only the question of fresh air that concerned her. She never mentioned that maybe Jien would have a better chance at growing up right without the alehouses and prostitutes in the city that had ensnared his father, but Jien knew what she was thinking anyway. When she asked how he liked the new house, he smiled and told her it was great. Guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t regret the lie when he saw the relief on her face.
He missed the city, but the new place wasn’t so bad. Most days, he didn’t mind living in the woods. He got lonely sometimes because there was no one else to play with, but things got better when Gojyo arrived. At least, they were better for him. It was nice to have someone else around besides Mom, even someone who couldn’t walk yet. He’d just learned how to crawl, though, and it was his newfound mobility that inspired Jien to begin taking him outside more often. He worried about snakes and sharp rocks and other things that might be dangerous to a baby, but it still seemed safer for him outside. Especially when Mom wasn’t in such a good mood.
Jien tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The sun burned behind his eyelids, making his vision go red. When he opened his eyes, bright spots danced at the corners of his vision. He blinked them away and watched Gojyo jam a handful of grass in his mouth. He smiled faintly and tapped his brother’s tiny shoulder. “Don’t eat that,” he instructed. He knew it was wasted breath; he doubted Gojyo would’ve listened even if he’d been old enough to understand. He leaned back on the steps and grinned as he watched Gojyo spit the grass out. Unfazed, Gojyo immediately resumed looking around on the ground, presumably searching for something else to put in his mouth. Jien kept a sharp eye out to make sure he didn’t swallow anything weird. He was already showing an unfortunate tendency to be mouthy, and now that he could crawl it had become harder to keep things out of his reach. Jien didn’t know what they would do when he started to walk.
He felt a wave of depression when he realized it wasn’t really a matter of what ‘they’ would do. That, he knew, was how parents talked about how they’d take care of their kid. They talked about what they would do. Together. The mother and father. But Dad was gone now, dead for all Jien knew. Secretly, Jien sometimes hoped he was. There was nothing shameful about having a father that was dead. It was a very different matter to have a father who just couldn’t be bothered to look after his own children or the women who’d given birth to them.
In the rare moment when he thought about his father, Jien told himself he was glad he was gone. It wasn’t as if he’d been a great dad even when he’d been around, he reminded himself, so what did it matter if he wasn’t there? But sometimes he dreamed about his dad coming back and making everything okay again. He always woke up feeling ashamed, both at his own immaturity in wishing for something that would never happen, and because he knew that if Dad ever did come back that he and Mom would take him back in a heartbeat. It nagged at Jien’s pride. If his father ever did return, he would have liked to tell him that they didn’t need him, that they were doing just fine without him. But they weren’t. He knew Mom needed more than just a son to take care of her, just like he knew he couldn’t be what she needed.
Jien sighed and kicked his feet, digging his heels into the dry earth. Gojyo tore up another handful of grass and blew spit bubbles. He laughed when they popped. Looking pleased with himself, he turned to Jien to give him a wobbly baby smile. Jien forced himself to smile back, and leaned over to ruffle Gojyo’s hair. “Not bad, squirt. You’re getting pretty good at that.” Gojyo grinned at him as if he understood the praise, and Jien caught sight of a flash of white in his mouth. Another tooth, it looked like. Jien was relieved. Bottles were a hassle, and he would be glad when Gojyo could eat regular food. It was enough trouble to fix meals for himself and Mom without having to mix and store formula for Gojyo.
Looking down, he saw that Gojyo had discovered a sharp rock on the ground, and eased it out of his fist. Gojyo whimpered in protest and Jien gave him leaf to play with. Gojyo quieted and he pitched the rock off to the side before smoothing a lock of hair away from Gojyo’s face. He’d been nearly bald at first, but in the last few months it had started coming in, thick and soft. And red. When he went into town to do the shopping, Jien had to put a hat on him, fearing his coloring would draw attention from the townspeople. It was risky, and he would have preferred not to take Gojyo into town at all. He was too little to leave home alone, though, and Jien would’ve been uneasy about leaving him with Mom anyway. So Gojyo went with him everywhere. As long as Gojyo kept the hat on, and no one looked too closely at his eyes, it was all right. So far, anyway.
Little bits of grass were mixed in with Gojyo hair, and Jien picked them out distractedly. Gojyo ignored his attempts at grooming. Unsteadily, he hefted himself off his diapered bottom and crawled over to climb on Jien’s legs. Jien stretched his legs out to make it easier, and couldn’t help but smile back when Gojyo looked up to beam at him. The kid was going to be a heartbreaker someday, he thought, with that kind of smile. Already it was hard for anyone to deny him anything when he grinned at them like that. Jien slipped him extra treats, the shopkeepers and women in town offered him candies and toys, and all he had to do was offer a bright, mostly-toothless smile. Amused, Jien wondered what Gojyo would be able to do once he got old enough to figure out how to use his charms. As it was, no one seemed to be entirely immune.
No one except Mother, anyway. The icy, detached way she looked at Gojyo made Jien’s stomach sink. It was getting harder and harder to tell himself that she’d warm up to him in time. Early yesterday morning, he’d heard Gojyo start to cry while he was making breakfast. He’d gone in the next room to get him and found Mom standing over his crib. He was almost relieved that she has responded at all; half the time it seemed like Gojyo might as well have been a sack of flour for all the attention she gave him. But the look on her face made his blood run cold. He’d snatched Gojyo out of his crib and hurried him into the kitchen, muttering something to her about breakfast being nearly ready. She hadn’t followed them, and Jien didn’t know whether to be glad or not.
Later, he tried to forget the look on her face, embarrassed by his own hysteria. He reassured himself that she would never hurt Gojyo, ashamed that the thought had even occurred to him. Of course she wouldn’t hurt Gojyo, he was only a baby. He might’ve been her husband’s bastard, and she might hate him for it, though Jien still hoped otherwise. But, he told himself, she would never hurt him. It wasn’t even a possibility.
But there was something in her eyes whenever she was around him. Jien had seen it in her face when she stood over his crib that morning and he’d seen it when she first laid eyes on him, the night he’d been dumped on their door in a broken basket with a note jammed under the cheap blankets. It was a cold, flat look, frightening in its lack of emotion. She looked as if she had been considering taking the basket, walking down to the river, and pushing him under the waves.
Jien’s eyes stung as Gojyo babbled incomprehensibly at the grass and shifted to let him squirm away from the safe curve of his legs. He didn’t know if the problem was Gojyo, but the bottom line was she wasn’t getting better. He didn’t remember exactly how long it had been since he’d realized something was wrong with his mother and that it wasn’t just sadness over her husband leaving or depression brought on by the changes in their lives, but he remembered how she used to be when she was happy. It hurt to realize how long it had been since he’d seen her smile. He wanted so badly for her to be happy and he did whatever he could to make things easier for her. He cooked, he cleaned, and he took care of Gojyo so she didn’t have to see him. He held her when she cried over his father, and he tried as hard as he could to fill that void. But every now and then a sense of crushing helplessness that overtook him and he knew that he couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t be his father.
It made him angry. He tried not to be, but the resentment swallowed him like a wave. He shouldn’t have to do this. His father should be there to take care of his wife. Gojyo’s real mother should be there to take care of her son. Clenching his fists, he thought bitterly that he wasn’t even fourteen. He couldn’t even remember what it was like to have no one to look after but himself. Vaguely, he recalled seeing groups of young boys roaming the streets in the city when he’d lived there. Sometimes he’d watched them laughing, wandering, and joking with each other. They had nowhere to be and nothing to do, and were free to walk for as long as they wanted.
It was impossible not to feel jealous. He wanted to do that. Desperately, he wanted to just get up and walk. Keep walking until he found someplace safe, someplace better. It wasn’t his job to raise Gojyo, and his mother should be able to take care of herself. And maybe they could, he thought. Maybe he was underestimating them. Maybe if he left they’d be okay by themselves. Maybe…
He looked down at Gojyo, hoping to see something that would tell him his brother would be all right without him, something to absolve him of the responsibility he felt. What he saw was Gojyo plucking a fat insect off the ground and picking it up. Realizing he probably intended to stick it in his mouth, his usual method for examining newfound objects, Jien reached over to pull it away from him. But when his hand hovered over the bug, he froze.
The long, wormlike body wriggled in Gojyo’s fist, legs splaying around his fingers. Heart stuttering to a stop, Jien barely realized he was moving until he had already snatched the insect from Gojyo’s hand and flung it to the ground, crushing it under his foot. Gojyo shrieked over the theft of his prize and only cried harder when Jien picked him up frantically, checking for more of the insects. He swatted at Gojyo clothes and scanned the ground, but saw nothing. Gojyo wailed in his arms.
After a moment, Jien realized he wasn’t breathing. He exhaled slowly, trying to slow his racing heart, and patted Gojyo reassuringly. “Shh,” he murmured as he took Gojyo’s hand, carefully scanning it for bite marks. He saw nothing, and his heart gradually left his throat. “Shh. You’re okay. Sorry, sorry. You’re fine.” Gojyo clutched at his shirt and sniffled. Slowly, moving like an old man, Jien sank back onto the steps, still holding Gojyo in his arms.
There was an old man who lived alone in a ramshackle cabin at the edge of the woods, less than five minutes from their house. Mother didn’t like him talking to strangers, but sometimes when Jien wandered past the man’s house and watched him sitting outside, whittling or dozing in the sun. When Jien had first seen him, the first thing that had caught his eye was the man’s left leg. It had lopped off at the knee, leaving him with a wooden stump to support him. Jien asked him what had happened, too young to know any better. But the man hadn’t been offended. Instead, he’d gladly told him all about the poisonous insect bite that had festered and rotted until the doctors had to cut his leg off to save his life. He’d taken Jien into the woods, hobbling over the uneven ground until he tracked down one of the insects. Trapping it under the edge of his walking stick, he’d showed it Jien, warning him to be careful of that sort of insect, so easily identifiable by its long body and dozens of legs.
Jien’s mind was filled with visions of Gojyo’s hand swelling and discoloring the way the man had described, and checked him again for marks. But the skin of his hands was clear and unblemished, and Jien let himself breathe freely again. Gojyo’s cries subsided and he busied himself with gumming on Jien’s sleeve. Jien put a shaky hand on his head and smoothed the soft downy strands of hair. Twisting in his arms, Gojyo grabbed at his hand and smiled at him. Tiredly, Jien smiled back.
Inside the house, something crashed. Jien jerked around. “Jien!” his mother’s voice called out, rising in pitch. “Jien! Where are you?” The shrillness in her voice frightened him. He grabbed Gojyo and stood up.
“Mom? It’s okay, I’m coming,” he yelled back. Gojyo blew raspberries against his neck, and Jien patted him distractedly as he yanked open the front door. It was heavy and made from solid oak. When it closed behind him, it slammed hard enough to shake the walls.
Jien nudged the front door shut behind him and hefted Gojyo on his hip. He distantly heard his mother’s voice from inside the house, but pretended he didn’t. Silently, he fought back a wave of guilt. He reminded himself that she might not even be talking to him, but wasn’t comforted by that thought. The idea of her talking to herself was somehow even worse, particularly since when she did, she often said things Jien wished he didn’t have to hear. After a while, though, he’d become good at turning her out.
He stood outside the closed door, waiting, half expecting to hear a scream or for Mother to come looking for him. After a moment, his mother’s voice faded away and he slowly relaxed and padded down the front steps. Gojyo squirmed in his arms and Jien looked for a place to put him down. He found a soft-looking patch of grass next to the front steps and after checking the space to make sure it was free of sharp stones or sticks, he put his brother down. “Okay,” he muttered, patting Gojyo’s head. “You stay there, all right?” Gojyo blinked at him uncomprehendingly before turning away and tearing up fistfuls of grass. Jien sighed and sat down on the steps and looked out at the scraggly line of trees around the house. It was very quiet and still.
It had been strange for him at first, not living in the city. He’d been used to the crowded streets and close quarters, but after Dad had left, Mom had moved them into a small house a good twenty minutes from the bustle of town. It would be good for him, she had said. He was a growing boy and it would be healthy for him to have plenty of fresh air and room to play. Jien believed her. Back then, she was still okay most of the time. She didn’t lie in bed crying most of the day and forget to make dinner. He had thought she knew what was best for them. She had been trying so hard.
Jien knew she hoped that the woods and rivers would make up for the absence of a father. It didn’t; nothing could. But he tried not to let her know he thought otherwise. He hadn’t wanted to move, but he didn’t argue with her, especially since he knew it wasn’t only the question of fresh air that concerned her. She never mentioned that maybe Jien would have a better chance at growing up right without the alehouses and prostitutes in the city that had ensnared his father, but Jien knew what she was thinking anyway. When she asked how he liked the new house, he smiled and told her it was great. Guilt nagged at him, but he couldn’t regret the lie when he saw the relief on her face.
He missed the city, but the new place wasn’t so bad. Most days, he didn’t mind living in the woods. He got lonely sometimes because there was no one else to play with, but things got better when Gojyo arrived. At least, they were better for him. It was nice to have someone else around besides Mom, even someone who couldn’t walk yet. He’d just learned how to crawl, though, and it was his newfound mobility that inspired Jien to begin taking him outside more often. He worried about snakes and sharp rocks and other things that might be dangerous to a baby, but it still seemed safer for him outside. Especially when Mom wasn’t in such a good mood.
Jien tipped his head back and closed his eyes. The sun burned behind his eyelids, making his vision go red. When he opened his eyes, bright spots danced at the corners of his vision. He blinked them away and watched Gojyo jam a handful of grass in his mouth. He smiled faintly and tapped his brother’s tiny shoulder. “Don’t eat that,” he instructed. He knew it was wasted breath; he doubted Gojyo would’ve listened even if he’d been old enough to understand. He leaned back on the steps and grinned as he watched Gojyo spit the grass out. Unfazed, Gojyo immediately resumed looking around on the ground, presumably searching for something else to put in his mouth. Jien kept a sharp eye out to make sure he didn’t swallow anything weird. He was already showing an unfortunate tendency to be mouthy, and now that he could crawl it had become harder to keep things out of his reach. Jien didn’t know what they would do when he started to walk.
He felt a wave of depression when he realized it wasn’t really a matter of what ‘they’ would do. That, he knew, was how parents talked about how they’d take care of their kid. They talked about what they would do. Together. The mother and father. But Dad was gone now, dead for all Jien knew. Secretly, Jien sometimes hoped he was. There was nothing shameful about having a father that was dead. It was a very different matter to have a father who just couldn’t be bothered to look after his own children or the women who’d given birth to them.
In the rare moment when he thought about his father, Jien told himself he was glad he was gone. It wasn’t as if he’d been a great dad even when he’d been around, he reminded himself, so what did it matter if he wasn’t there? But sometimes he dreamed about his dad coming back and making everything okay again. He always woke up feeling ashamed, both at his own immaturity in wishing for something that would never happen, and because he knew that if Dad ever did come back that he and Mom would take him back in a heartbeat. It nagged at Jien’s pride. If his father ever did return, he would have liked to tell him that they didn’t need him, that they were doing just fine without him. But they weren’t. He knew Mom needed more than just a son to take care of her, just like he knew he couldn’t be what she needed.
Jien sighed and kicked his feet, digging his heels into the dry earth. Gojyo tore up another handful of grass and blew spit bubbles. He laughed when they popped. Looking pleased with himself, he turned to Jien to give him a wobbly baby smile. Jien forced himself to smile back, and leaned over to ruffle Gojyo’s hair. “Not bad, squirt. You’re getting pretty good at that.” Gojyo grinned at him as if he understood the praise, and Jien caught sight of a flash of white in his mouth. Another tooth, it looked like. Jien was relieved. Bottles were a hassle, and he would be glad when Gojyo could eat regular food. It was enough trouble to fix meals for himself and Mom without having to mix and store formula for Gojyo.
Looking down, he saw that Gojyo had discovered a sharp rock on the ground, and eased it out of his fist. Gojyo whimpered in protest and Jien gave him leaf to play with. Gojyo quieted and he pitched the rock off to the side before smoothing a lock of hair away from Gojyo’s face. He’d been nearly bald at first, but in the last few months it had started coming in, thick and soft. And red. When he went into town to do the shopping, Jien had to put a hat on him, fearing his coloring would draw attention from the townspeople. It was risky, and he would have preferred not to take Gojyo into town at all. He was too little to leave home alone, though, and Jien would’ve been uneasy about leaving him with Mom anyway. So Gojyo went with him everywhere. As long as Gojyo kept the hat on, and no one looked too closely at his eyes, it was all right. So far, anyway.
Little bits of grass were mixed in with Gojyo hair, and Jien picked them out distractedly. Gojyo ignored his attempts at grooming. Unsteadily, he hefted himself off his diapered bottom and crawled over to climb on Jien’s legs. Jien stretched his legs out to make it easier, and couldn’t help but smile back when Gojyo looked up to beam at him. The kid was going to be a heartbreaker someday, he thought, with that kind of smile. Already it was hard for anyone to deny him anything when he grinned at them like that. Jien slipped him extra treats, the shopkeepers and women in town offered him candies and toys, and all he had to do was offer a bright, mostly-toothless smile. Amused, Jien wondered what Gojyo would be able to do once he got old enough to figure out how to use his charms. As it was, no one seemed to be entirely immune.
No one except Mother, anyway. The icy, detached way she looked at Gojyo made Jien’s stomach sink. It was getting harder and harder to tell himself that she’d warm up to him in time. Early yesterday morning, he’d heard Gojyo start to cry while he was making breakfast. He’d gone in the next room to get him and found Mom standing over his crib. He was almost relieved that she has responded at all; half the time it seemed like Gojyo might as well have been a sack of flour for all the attention she gave him. But the look on her face made his blood run cold. He’d snatched Gojyo out of his crib and hurried him into the kitchen, muttering something to her about breakfast being nearly ready. She hadn’t followed them, and Jien didn’t know whether to be glad or not.
Later, he tried to forget the look on her face, embarrassed by his own hysteria. He reassured himself that she would never hurt Gojyo, ashamed that the thought had even occurred to him. Of course she wouldn’t hurt Gojyo, he was only a baby. He might’ve been her husband’s bastard, and she might hate him for it, though Jien still hoped otherwise. But, he told himself, she would never hurt him. It wasn’t even a possibility.
But there was something in her eyes whenever she was around him. Jien had seen it in her face when she stood over his crib that morning and he’d seen it when she first laid eyes on him, the night he’d been dumped on their door in a broken basket with a note jammed under the cheap blankets. It was a cold, flat look, frightening in its lack of emotion. She looked as if she had been considering taking the basket, walking down to the river, and pushing him under the waves.
Jien’s eyes stung as Gojyo babbled incomprehensibly at the grass and shifted to let him squirm away from the safe curve of his legs. He didn’t know if the problem was Gojyo, but the bottom line was she wasn’t getting better. He didn’t remember exactly how long it had been since he’d realized something was wrong with his mother and that it wasn’t just sadness over her husband leaving or depression brought on by the changes in their lives, but he remembered how she used to be when she was happy. It hurt to realize how long it had been since he’d seen her smile. He wanted so badly for her to be happy and he did whatever he could to make things easier for her. He cooked, he cleaned, and he took care of Gojyo so she didn’t have to see him. He held her when she cried over his father, and he tried as hard as he could to fill that void. But every now and then a sense of crushing helplessness that overtook him and he knew that he couldn’t be what she needed. He couldn’t be his father.
It made him angry. He tried not to be, but the resentment swallowed him like a wave. He shouldn’t have to do this. His father should be there to take care of his wife. Gojyo’s real mother should be there to take care of her son. Clenching his fists, he thought bitterly that he wasn’t even fourteen. He couldn’t even remember what it was like to have no one to look after but himself. Vaguely, he recalled seeing groups of young boys roaming the streets in the city when he’d lived there. Sometimes he’d watched them laughing, wandering, and joking with each other. They had nowhere to be and nothing to do, and were free to walk for as long as they wanted.
It was impossible not to feel jealous. He wanted to do that. Desperately, he wanted to just get up and walk. Keep walking until he found someplace safe, someplace better. It wasn’t his job to raise Gojyo, and his mother should be able to take care of herself. And maybe they could, he thought. Maybe he was underestimating them. Maybe if he left they’d be okay by themselves. Maybe…
He looked down at Gojyo, hoping to see something that would tell him his brother would be all right without him, something to absolve him of the responsibility he felt. What he saw was Gojyo plucking a fat insect off the ground and picking it up. Realizing he probably intended to stick it in his mouth, his usual method for examining newfound objects, Jien reached over to pull it away from him. But when his hand hovered over the bug, he froze.
The long, wormlike body wriggled in Gojyo’s fist, legs splaying around his fingers. Heart stuttering to a stop, Jien barely realized he was moving until he had already snatched the insect from Gojyo’s hand and flung it to the ground, crushing it under his foot. Gojyo shrieked over the theft of his prize and only cried harder when Jien picked him up frantically, checking for more of the insects. He swatted at Gojyo clothes and scanned the ground, but saw nothing. Gojyo wailed in his arms.
After a moment, Jien realized he wasn’t breathing. He exhaled slowly, trying to slow his racing heart, and patted Gojyo reassuringly. “Shh,” he murmured as he took Gojyo’s hand, carefully scanning it for bite marks. He saw nothing, and his heart gradually left his throat. “Shh. You’re okay. Sorry, sorry. You’re fine.” Gojyo clutched at his shirt and sniffled. Slowly, moving like an old man, Jien sank back onto the steps, still holding Gojyo in his arms.
There was an old man who lived alone in a ramshackle cabin at the edge of the woods, less than five minutes from their house. Mother didn’t like him talking to strangers, but sometimes when Jien wandered past the man’s house and watched him sitting outside, whittling or dozing in the sun. When Jien had first seen him, the first thing that had caught his eye was the man’s left leg. It had lopped off at the knee, leaving him with a wooden stump to support him. Jien asked him what had happened, too young to know any better. But the man hadn’t been offended. Instead, he’d gladly told him all about the poisonous insect bite that had festered and rotted until the doctors had to cut his leg off to save his life. He’d taken Jien into the woods, hobbling over the uneven ground until he tracked down one of the insects. Trapping it under the edge of his walking stick, he’d showed it Jien, warning him to be careful of that sort of insect, so easily identifiable by its long body and dozens of legs.
Jien’s mind was filled with visions of Gojyo’s hand swelling and discoloring the way the man had described, and checked him again for marks. But the skin of his hands was clear and unblemished, and Jien let himself breathe freely again. Gojyo’s cries subsided and he busied himself with gumming on Jien’s sleeve. Jien put a shaky hand on his head and smoothed the soft downy strands of hair. Twisting in his arms, Gojyo grabbed at his hand and smiled at him. Tiredly, Jien smiled back.
Inside the house, something crashed. Jien jerked around. “Jien!” his mother’s voice called out, rising in pitch. “Jien! Where are you?” The shrillness in her voice frightened him. He grabbed Gojyo and stood up.
“Mom? It’s okay, I’m coming,” he yelled back. Gojyo blew raspberries against his neck, and Jien patted him distractedly as he yanked open the front door. It was heavy and made from solid oak. When it closed behind him, it slammed hard enough to shake the walls.
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no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 06:44 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 09:41 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 10:27 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 06:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:40 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-30 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-27 10:49 pm (UTC)(And wee Gojyo is totally adorable.)
no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-28 01:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 05:08 pm (UTC)Oh, Jien, poor kid! I'm really feeling warm and moist around the eyes - you did a great job here. And it was interesting, after finishing it, to think about him grown, as Dokugaku, and have little bits of your story click with my memories of his scenes in the manga.
no subject
Date: 2007-08-29 10:44 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-08-30 01:04 am (UTC)