Fic: Disconnected (Saiyuki)
Jun. 26th, 2022 05:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
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escapefromrealityUkoku and Koumyou on their travels.
"This is better than wandering around the countryside like a couple of hobos," Ukoku said, peering in the shop window at the shiny display. It was balm to the soul to see things that didn't belong in the dark ages. Even if he didn't believe in the concept of souls.
"I enjoy wandering around the countryside," Koumyou said. "I like the fresh air." He exaggeratedly waved a hand in front of his face and gave a fake-sounding cough. "The traffic's so heavy here! It can't be good for the complexion."
Five cars in half an hour was hardly heavy traffic by Ukoku's reckoning, but he kept his mouth shut. The air did smell more polluted than he'd been used to. He hadn't become a sanzo to be a health freak, dammit.
"What are those things?" Koumyou said, once more sounding like he'd just arrived from the moon, or parts further afield.
"Mobile phones," Ukoku said wistfully. "The most recent model's very desirable: I had one after I got my PhD. It had just come out. I had to leave it behind when I went to Zenou."
"What a clever invention. It's so shiny that when it's off you could use it as a very dark mirror! Just think, you could have stayed home and kept your little glass and plastic rectangle," Koumyou said cheerily. "You could have chatted with all your friends every day and made them jealous!"
Ukoku gave him a narrow-eyed look. Innocent babble or catty remark? The vaguely confused half-smile on Koumyou's face was giving no clues.
"Don't be a bastard," he said, to be safe.
Koumyou looked genuinely confused, which was a good image to file away. Ukoku could compare that to the other confused expressions the annoying man liked to wear. It all slotted into his growing knowledge of when he was being made fun of and when Koumyou really was being a weirdo.
"I'm not, my parents were married," he said, as if no one had ever insulted him in his entire life which was rich, given some of the stories he'd told Ukoku about his time training. The entire class of sanzo-candidates must have been lining up from dawn to dusk for the chance to tell him exactly what they thought of him. The genuine confusion shaded into the just visiting from another planet habitual expression. "I say were, but maybe I mean are - it's been a long time since I saw them, but I don't think they were all that old when I was born. They're probably still alive." He waved a hand vaguely. "Somewhere."
"But you don't care."
"Hmmm," Koumyou said, trying unsuccessfully to pull him away from the window display. "I wouldn't say I don't care, that sounds terribly dismissive. I don't mind that they've lived a life away from me if that's what you mean. I've also lived a life away from them! One learns to give up attachment, Ukoku. Is that why we've been spending time looking at these fancy toys? Do they remind you of your parents?"
Ukoku stared at him. The memory of his father handing him the brightly wrapped box was all at once too prominent in his mind. Happy birthday, son. He ruthlessly squashed it down and turned his back on the window.
"I don't give a shit about my parents," he said viciously.
Koumyou looked at him, no trace of a smile on his face.
"Then why waste energy despising them?"
Ukoku looked away, and followed silently when Koumyou started walking.
"I do understand," Koumyou said, "giving up attachment is hard. You desire your fancy phone. You desire your parents' acknowledgement of and submission to your success. I'm told that I cried every day for the first six months, and said nothing more useful than I wanna go hooome to the unfortunate monk in charge of trainees. In time you will learn to let such unhelpful desires go, and be the happier for it."
"How old were you?" Ukoku said, to have something to say.
"About thirty."
Ukoku couldn't help the startled snort of laughter, and Koumyou smiled broadly, his eyes almost shut.
"That's better. I was six years old and a monastery was the best place for me. I was already using magic to create havoc when I didn't get my own way, so discipline, training and a quiet atmosphere to sleep through my classes was exactly what I needed."
"And look at you now," Ukoku said. "Top of the heap."
"Oh, well. Or at the bottom, if you look at it another way. Anyone can ask for my help and I should give it. Look at it yet another way and there's no heap at all. Don't keep yourself chained by the past, Ukoku; you gave up everything to get where you are so you might as well try it out properly."
The silly expression had been firmly back in place for all of that, like he was daring Ukoku to take advice from an idiot. An idiot who'd never known any other life and was damn well institutionalised – Koumyou looked at him as if he knew what he was thinking and his smile widened fractionally. He skipped off to the side to raise his joined hands politely before a food stall and came back with two steamed buns, passing one over.
They walked on, eating their snacks. Koumyou was right, he thought. If he'd just wanted flashy toys he could have stayed home. He'd thought he'd mastered everything in beating Goudai but clearly real non-attachment was more difficult than he'd thought. No problem. Difficult things were what he thrived on.
If a goofball like Koumyou could manage it, it'd be a walk in the park for him.
"This is better than wandering around the countryside like a couple of hobos," Ukoku said, peering in the shop window at the shiny display. It was balm to the soul to see things that didn't belong in the dark ages. Even if he didn't believe in the concept of souls.
"I enjoy wandering around the countryside," Koumyou said. "I like the fresh air." He exaggeratedly waved a hand in front of his face and gave a fake-sounding cough. "The traffic's so heavy here! It can't be good for the complexion."
Five cars in half an hour was hardly heavy traffic by Ukoku's reckoning, but he kept his mouth shut. The air did smell more polluted than he'd been used to. He hadn't become a sanzo to be a health freak, dammit.
"What are those things?" Koumyou said, once more sounding like he'd just arrived from the moon, or parts further afield.
"Mobile phones," Ukoku said wistfully. "The most recent model's very desirable: I had one after I got my PhD. It had just come out. I had to leave it behind when I went to Zenou."
"What a clever invention. It's so shiny that when it's off you could use it as a very dark mirror! Just think, you could have stayed home and kept your little glass and plastic rectangle," Koumyou said cheerily. "You could have chatted with all your friends every day and made them jealous!"
Ukoku gave him a narrow-eyed look. Innocent babble or catty remark? The vaguely confused half-smile on Koumyou's face was giving no clues.
"Don't be a bastard," he said, to be safe.
Koumyou looked genuinely confused, which was a good image to file away. Ukoku could compare that to the other confused expressions the annoying man liked to wear. It all slotted into his growing knowledge of when he was being made fun of and when Koumyou really was being a weirdo.
"I'm not, my parents were married," he said, as if no one had ever insulted him in his entire life which was rich, given some of the stories he'd told Ukoku about his time training. The entire class of sanzo-candidates must have been lining up from dawn to dusk for the chance to tell him exactly what they thought of him. The genuine confusion shaded into the just visiting from another planet habitual expression. "I say were, but maybe I mean are - it's been a long time since I saw them, but I don't think they were all that old when I was born. They're probably still alive." He waved a hand vaguely. "Somewhere."
"But you don't care."
"Hmmm," Koumyou said, trying unsuccessfully to pull him away from the window display. "I wouldn't say I don't care, that sounds terribly dismissive. I don't mind that they've lived a life away from me if that's what you mean. I've also lived a life away from them! One learns to give up attachment, Ukoku. Is that why we've been spending time looking at these fancy toys? Do they remind you of your parents?"
Ukoku stared at him. The memory of his father handing him the brightly wrapped box was all at once too prominent in his mind. Happy birthday, son. He ruthlessly squashed it down and turned his back on the window.
"I don't give a shit about my parents," he said viciously.
Koumyou looked at him, no trace of a smile on his face.
"Then why waste energy despising them?"
Ukoku looked away, and followed silently when Koumyou started walking.
"I do understand," Koumyou said, "giving up attachment is hard. You desire your fancy phone. You desire your parents' acknowledgement of and submission to your success. I'm told that I cried every day for the first six months, and said nothing more useful than I wanna go hooome to the unfortunate monk in charge of trainees. In time you will learn to let such unhelpful desires go, and be the happier for it."
"How old were you?" Ukoku said, to have something to say.
"About thirty."
Ukoku couldn't help the startled snort of laughter, and Koumyou smiled broadly, his eyes almost shut.
"That's better. I was six years old and a monastery was the best place for me. I was already using magic to create havoc when I didn't get my own way, so discipline, training and a quiet atmosphere to sleep through my classes was exactly what I needed."
"And look at you now," Ukoku said. "Top of the heap."
"Oh, well. Or at the bottom, if you look at it another way. Anyone can ask for my help and I should give it. Look at it yet another way and there's no heap at all. Don't keep yourself chained by the past, Ukoku; you gave up everything to get where you are so you might as well try it out properly."
The silly expression had been firmly back in place for all of that, like he was daring Ukoku to take advice from an idiot. An idiot who'd never known any other life and was damn well institutionalised – Koumyou looked at him as if he knew what he was thinking and his smile widened fractionally. He skipped off to the side to raise his joined hands politely before a food stall and came back with two steamed buns, passing one over.
They walked on, eating their snacks. Koumyou was right, he thought. If he'd just wanted flashy toys he could have stayed home. He'd thought he'd mastered everything in beating Goudai but clearly real non-attachment was more difficult than he'd thought. No problem. Difficult things were what he thrived on.
If a goofball like Koumyou could manage it, it'd be a walk in the park for him.
