Saiyuki Fan Fiction / Bleach Fan Fiction ❯ Cigarettes And Chocolate Milk ❯ In Need of a Vacation ( Prologue )

CIGARETTES AND CHOCOLATE MILK # 00: Prologue: In need of a vacation.

In which one learns that some youkai are really too dumb to die, and the other discovers an unexpected friendship.

---------- ooo ---------- ooo ----------

As he quickly re-sheathed his battered zippo and dodged a blow directed at his face, the fleeting consideration that maybe right now things weren't going magnificently good, made an appearance in his mind.

`Shit.'
A bloodied sword with a strange indigo blade, slashed through the air, a bit too close to his comfort zone, or, to be more accurate, at a goddamn hairsbreadth from his left shoulder.
A kama flew just in front of his eyes, leaving him with only half of the cigarette he was smoking.
A foot connected with his stomach. Hard.

`Shit. Shit. Shit.'

Things, all in all, were going pretty bad.

He ducked and tripped the youkai at his side with a powerful kick. Bones broke.
A body behind him dropped to the ground almost as one with the arm it once possessed and the blue blade still attached to it that landed at some feet away at the merry sound of chains let loose.
The rear blade of his Shakujyo was stuck for a moment in the new bloody pulp in front of him.

He spat out the butt of his `fuck!' last cigarette and tried to breathe without throwing out some of his internal organs. For a moment he choked on the smell of blood, gore and dark magic.

Yeah, things were pretty really fucked up bad right now.
And not the kind of bad of when Goku inhales their last ration in the middle of nowhere, nor the one where Hakkai casts on him his Glance of Doom wherever he accidentally uses beer cans as ashtrays.
Just the kind of bad that was most likely getting all of their asses fried on a fucking funeral pyre.

And that, in Gojyo's humble opinion, was a really big no-no.

Mr. Broken Leg Youkai lunged at him with his talons but was stopped by a really nice, clear cut through his whole midsection.
Mr. Chopped Sleeves, regained his arm and the freaking blue blade, charged another time, only to find himself impaled on his own cute Smurf colored sword, thanks to a well-aimed kick of long, sexy, legs.
Mr. Bloody Pulp remained remarkably motionless on the ground.

“That was my fucking last cig! You sons of a goddamn bitch!”, the hanyou roared, getting up in one fluid motion ad retreating his blade in a defensive pose, killing a couple of other youkai in the process.

He spared a second to take a good look around.

The place was a mess. The numbers of their enemies wasn't exactly large per se. Fifty, seventy at most. They've dealt with so much worse in their journey.
The fuckers just seemed freaking impossible to kill. Well, most of them looked like a bunch of dead bodies that have had a really close encounter with a meat grinder, and there was an impressive collection of body parts practically embellished the whole battlefield to attest that, but still…

A huge ki ball flashed at the edge of the clearing, incinerating demons and trees alike.
Hakkai, for Gojyo's satisfaction, for once wasn't fresh as a daisy bathed by the morning dew, but covered in blood, sweat and gore like the rest of them. That wasn't a really ordinary sight, let him tell you.

Not far away, Goku was jumping around like a monkey on sugar high, laughing as his noibo struck an handful of enemies in one powerful motion. As if they weren't fighting for hours.
“Fucking Monkey.”

Even Hakuriu, from his perch on a high branch of a tree, was firing his pretty much useless fireballs at a couple of youkai hands that tried to reach him. No body annex.
`What the fuck?!'

And in the middle of the clearing he spotted Sanzo. The stupid, idiotic, useless, sorry excuse of a monk was still enveloped in that goddamn thing!
Glaring daggers at the newly appointed Idiot of the Year, formerly known as Genjo Sanzo Hoshi, Gojyo tried to figure out how the monk was held in mid-air when the arms of the two sutras weren't actually touching him, but just floated around his body at arm's reach in a whirlpool of black and white paper.
The really worrisome thing was the big, dark, electrically charged cloud that was now hovering over the entire clearing. Technically it wasn't really dangerous, just yet. It was just a little creepy, and, for Gojyo's taste, a bit too much like a rising tornado.

His attention was violently deterred from the view when a curved knife took too much interest in the right leg of his trousers. The hand that were wielding it was clipped even before Gojyo's mind caught up with his own weapon's bearings.
The youkai howled and he kicked him off with too much ease.

`Fuck.'

He was sure of have killed this fucker for at least three times now!
Ok Gojyo, regroup time.

Step One: get rid of the fucker that is aiming for your back.
A quick slice of the blade, and a (quite ugly) head rolls off of a (disgusting and smelling like a month old sock from Goku's unwashed laundry) boar youkai.
Step One: complete.

Step Two: find the most informed/brainy/aware person in your surroundings and make him/her aware of your presence and of your will to communicate.
70 degrees turn left, a kick to the sorry loser ahead, a deep breath and…
“'KAI!”
Green eyes darted to him just long enough to assure both of them that this wasn't a cry for help. Then a placid, creepy, plastic smile on the healer's face.
“It's a rather eventful day, isn't it?”
“No shit, pal! I know we can go at it for hours, but, man, even Sha Gojyo needs a break from time to time!”
`And goddamnit, I really need a smoke right now.'
A little genuine laugh from his best friend gave him back some of his long lost good mood.
Step Two: complete.

Step Three: ask your question in the most polished way as to avoid giving your host the impression of a rude nuisance.
“Hei, Kai! Would you by any change know what the fuck is goin' on in this goddamn shithole?”
Another little smile and an almost inaudible chuckle.
`Gotcha!', Gojyo smirked. Blood red eyes lit with mischief.
Step Tree: compete.

Four severed limbs, two concussion and several feet of intestines later, Hakkai had some breath to reply.

“I am afraid that this might be a reaction to an incorrect use of the two sutras that Sanzo is handling in this moment.”
“Yeah, the monk got goddamned shitfaced, I figured that out just right. I mean what's wrong with this freaking horror show!”

A chopped elbow flew in Hakuryu direction. The winged rat flew away.

“Oh. Well, regarding their ki, almost all of the youkai we are battling against, are actually quite dead.”
“Dead? And why the hell they keep coming back to my ass, then? I know I've a deadly sexy ass, but fuck! Sha Gojyo doesn't do public shows! Not for free at least.”
“Haha.”, the gentle looking healer vaporized youkais with the same lightly focused expression he wore while getting rid of a nasty stain on some old shirt.

“I suspect that the influence of two combined forces like those ones, is just forcing dead bodies to do what they were doing while dying.”
“Like fucking zombies show?! You' kiddin' me?!?”

A goddamn awful blue freaking blade flashed just in front of his eyes, a moment before getting stuck in a nearby tree. Smelly bloody arm still attached to it.

Gojyo turned just in time to deflect the remaining kama of Mr. Broken Leg And Interiors Smoothly Dangling Out Of My Belly from the trajectory that pointed toward his awesome face. A strand of red locks flew away. Mr. Broken Leg And Asking For It flew. Straight into a bunch of half mauled youkais behind it, making them scatter away. `Strike!'

Mr. Bloody Motionless Pulp wasn't so motionless anymore. `Freaky!'

A bunch of enemies throw themselves between him and Hakkai, actually cutting their feeble communications.
Mr. Knife Guy, what was left of Mr. Knife Guy, ran at top speed towards him, making a really good impression of a beheaded chicken that flees away from the butcher.

“Fucking waste of a goddamn monk, stop playing the Sorcerer's Apprentice!”, howled a tired, stressed, nervous and in needs of a nicotine jump Gojyo, towards the area pestered by the sutras.

His Shakujyo smashed trough Mr. Knife Headless Chicken Guy body, again.

Things weren't going to get better any time soon.

`Fuck, I need a vacation.'

---------- ooo ---------- ooo ----------

“I was not aware that windows held such a large portion of your daily interests, Abarai-Fukutaicho.”, a cold voice stated, scattering the papers he was holding. Reading. Sort of.

`Shit.'

“Perhaps you should get one installed in your quarters, Fukutaicho, so you could entertain yourself in this little occupation of yours. After your working hours.”
“Oh. Hehe.”, he turned, scraping sheepishly at his nape.
“I've done it again, right?”, the redhead mumbled, having, at least, the grace to look embarrassed.
“Nh.”
“Sorry Taicho. I didn't meant to. I just got something on my mind, `s all.”, he huffed, raising to scoop up the documents.
“Yes, I think I can say that.”, the cool retort came as a fly buzzing over his head. Heard dozens of times, but nonetheless annoying.

A couple of minutes punctuated only by the sound of squads in training, gave Renji the illusion of having dodged the confrontation with his superior officer about something he really didn't want to talk about.

Illusion shattered with a slightly annoyed tapping noise on the mahogany table, and the intense stare Kuchiki was casting upon him.

“She told you, hasn't she?”, the final tone used by the noble clan leader wasn't really an inquisitive one, but still, Renji couldn't help but answer to the steel voice.
“Y… yeah.”, huffed the redhead, popping down on his chair.
He began to arrange papers and notes, carefully avoiding the searching gaze of his superior officer.

“I was under the impression that her promotion would have appeased you.”

Renji sighed, letting out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. His entire posture collapsed on itself, giving him a very strong appearance of a pouting kid.

“I'm fucking happy for her, Taicho. I know how much it means to her, and I know how much it must be difficult for you, too.”, murmured Renji, grabbing his brush and starting to read the first document in front of him.
It requested something about a supply of a couple of dozen blue and neon-pink med balls for the division's athletic gym. `What the heck is that thing?'

“And still something is deeply affecting you.”

The strange gym request flew in the `what the fuck' basket for later examination, while his mind groggly focused on the next document, letting almost out the freezing tone of his Taicho.

“Abarai-Fukutaicho.”
If he unconsciously blocked out the noble's voice, surely the powerful shock of reiatsu that accompanied the admonishing tone brought him back on the here and now.

Renji glanced up, looking exactly as a child caught with his hands in the cookie jar.

“Listen, Taicho, I'm doin' my work, the division is goin'on pretty well, Rukia's progressin' like crazy and all's goin' just good.”, he insisted after a moment.

“Renji.”, the reprimand this time was somewhat softer, like Kuchiki was trying to not spook a frightened animal.

The young Fukutaicho just deflated, crumpling on the chair and letting go of the brush, that readily smeared paperwork and table alike.

“It… It's just…”
Renji nervously fidgeted with his own ponytail, trying to rearrange his scattered thoughts.
Kuchiki waited calmly.

“This whole thing. After Ichigo lost his powers, she has been so much sad for him, and it's okay, I've been as sad as her, because the kid didn't deserve that, so I'm not complaining on her fussing about him. We are much more close now, but, dunno, I haven't really though how much would be… strange now.”

Kuchiki raised an eyebrow to that, but Renji didn't catch the curious scrutiny of the clan leader.
“She changed so much. Not in a bad way, mind me, but still…”

Words, once again, threatened to fail him, so Renji took a deep breath and closed his eyes, just like someone intent upon deep meditation.

“I don't know how to help Rukia, Taicho. The only thing I can do is some training with her, but `s like we talk different languages for everyth'n else.”

Two sad, deep red eyes opened, focusing on large calloused hands, while the minute figure of his childhood friend haunted his mind with her regal, noble, Kuchiki grace.

“I know it sounds crazy, Taicho, and I swear I'm not tryin' ta offend you or som'thing, but… it's like I've got my best friend back, but in doin' that I've lost my family.”, the depressed tone of the last sentence didn't really sat well with him, and Kuchiki could see that the younger man needed some kind of guidance if he wanted any kind of work done by the end of the week.

“The two of you lived many years in completely different settings, passed through different sorts of experiences and known different kind of people. As you changed, she changed too, it's only a natural part of the process of growth.”

“I know.”

“But it does not make things easier for you, am I correct?”

Renji only lowered his eyes. The defeated aura around him was enough to answer.

“You have only to relearn how to fit in each other lives. It is a process that takes quite some time, but being aware of your… sociable skills, I am confident that you two can reconcile your differences. In an appropriate manner.”, he added the last sentence with a tone that could almost be called menacing, but Renji felt fairly comforted and, somewhat, flattered by the rare almost-concern shown by his detached superior officer.

“Taicho, you…”

The entrance of a division member in their shared office, shattered all kind of companionable ambience between Captain and Lieutenant.

`How's that when I wanna talk to this man, someone always gets in the damned way? I'm cursed or somthin'?'

Renji took a deep breath, grabbing his brush again and readying himself for the umpteenth scorn directed at him from the stoic, inflexible and (often at his expenses) sarcastic Taicho. He could already hear it in his head.
`I would suggest you to cease this nonsense right now, Abarai-Fukutaicho, and begin to work on all of the paperwork that has remained unfulfilled on your desk. `
To not mention the lecture waiting for him for the ink smeared documents and proper protocol regarding office tidiness.
Renji sighed, as all his hopes for a good afternoon workout with Zabimaru and a relaxing evening with only his couch and a bucket of taiyaki, faded between reports and paychecks.
Any moment now…

“Abarai.”

`And here we go…'

“Go now.”
Renji blinked stupidly.

`What?'

“My sister training will start soon. I advise you to not make her wait. A Kuchiki does not take tardiness well.”
`As if I didn't know that already…'

“She requested her training to be at Mount Koifushi today. If you recoil to head out in this moment, I despair to see you on a suitable time for your appointment.”
Renji's eyes widened at impossible lengths, when he realized just where he had heard that name before.
“It's where Kaien-Fukutaicho died, isn't it?”, the soft whisper made Kuchiki Taicho look up from his work.
“Indeed.”
“But I thought that…”, words escaped his mind when his eyes found the understanding gaze of his Captain.
“This means that she trusts you deeply with her own training and her sensitiveness, Lieutenant. You should be honored by such a thing.”, the unspoken `I entrust you with my sister security and well being too' was just loud in that tone to not been caught by the young Fukutaicho.

Renji smiled a really big smile, the first real one in a long time.
“Taicho. Thanks.”

He hastily fixed up his ponytail, grabbed Zabimaru and raced to the door.

“Abarai.”

“Yes Taicho?”

“This does not mean that you are relieved of your duties. I want to see your paperwork completed by tomorrow noon. All of it.”
“What? All?!”, he almost shrieked, loosing for a moment his hold on Zabimaru and almost scaring to death the officer that was collecting completed paperwork from his taicho's table. Papers scattered all around. Again.

Doing all of his unfinished work meant that he would be figuratively (if not literally) chained to his damned desk, doing tons of blasted paperwork for hours.
The cool, inquisitive gaze of the man at the table, made Renji swallow his abrupt annoyance and bow respectfully.
“H-hai, Taicho!”, he blurted out, hurrying to properly greet the captain and flew out the door before said Taicho could find more work which burden him with.

The temperature, out in the open, and safe from icy glares and sarcastic reprimands, seemed immediately so much warmer. Renji stretched out his limbs, letting sleepy joints pop back in place with a satisfied groan.
He watched the sun shine on freshly watered grass, on his way to Rukia's training place, and suddenly the memory of a awfully huge stack of paperwork waiting for him at the office, crushed all his forming intentions of relaxing after the training that, he was sure, would be as tiring as fight against a goddamn menos horde.
Couch and taiyaki bowl would have to wait. For a very long time.

`God, I need a vacation.'