nina_vendredi | Anonymous Saiyuki "Gen" Meme!

Anonymous Saiyuki "Gen" Meme!

Stolen from

vom_marlowe who stole it from

toxictattoo. Requested by

redbrunja

Feel free to pimp this out.

Anonymously post a request for that fic you've always wanted to see, but for what ever reason, haven't written. The focus of the story should be the plot, not the sexxxings. This does not mean that smut is a no-fly-zone, just that scenarios only serving to get the characters into each other's pants can go to the oh-so-hot kink meme.

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Have Fun.

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Think I may need to write this one.

*cackles madly* *whipes tears from eyes* Bwuahahahahahaha XD That. Was genius. I swear.

Flower Power 60s AU.

I hope this is alright to post here. It's smutty but there is a plot!

Zakuro looked at the letter again. The handwriting seemed to be Lady Gyokumen Koushu’s but the characters were different somehow. Lighter, perhaps. More flowing than the usual bold characters. And the tone of the letter was different, too. More gentle and not as harsh. He read the letter again.

“Zakuro, I have tried overlooking your past mistakes in your dealings with Priest Sanzo and his party. This latest fiasco is the breaking point. You let them slip through your fingers without a fight.

I received information that you have decided to join them. This will not be tolerated! With your youkai talent of illusion, you are a powerful ally to us and I cannot let you join their side.

I demand your presence at Hotou Castle at once!

Lady Gyokumen Koushu”

Zakuro crumpled the letter in his fist. His hands shook with rage at this latest letter from that bitch. He really hated her but he knew that if the youkai were to take over this world, he would have to be on her side. He hung his head, his lavender hair covering his face, his bright jade eyes looking at the ground.

This day was quickly going from bad to worse. His morning had started out somewhat all right, but quickly spiraled down from there. He had spent the night in a small village, sleeping in a huge tree. He would have liked to have slept at the nice inn, but he had lost his wallet with his card in it. He had tried using his talent of creating illusions to convince the manager to let him stay but the man wouldn’t pay attention to him, so Zakuro couldn’t get the guy to look into his eyes. He did manage to steal a worn blanket so he was at least a little warm during the cool night.

The bright morning sun woke him, it’s rays streaming into the branches, it’s gentle warmth on his face. He had turned his face towards the warmth and promptly lost his balance, falling over 10 feet until he managed to grab onto a branch. That shook the tree and woke up the birds…the thousands of black crows that must have found him during the night. He hated those fucking things. Ni Jianyi had those damn things following him everywhere, reporting back to Hotou castle on his activities.

Swinging his long legs, Zakuro finally managed to hook one over the branch and pull himself up. He sat on the thick branch, catching his breath. Peering over, he judged that he was probably no more than 10 feet from the ground. Maybe if he scooted towards the end of the branch, he could bend it enough so he wouldn’t have that far to fall.

Before he could move, a single black crow landed on the thin, twisted, leafy branches at the end of the branch he was sitting on. He glared at it, cursing the bird in his mind. Another crow joined the first, and then another and another until it seemed the whole murder of crows were perched on the branch he was sitting on.

“Shoo!” Letting go of the branch with his hands, Zakuro swung his arms wide, thinking to scare the birds off. They stayed where they were. Narrowing his jade eyes at the crows, he inched out towards the end of the branch. He tried shooing them again, but the crows wouldn’t move.

CRACK!

CRACK!

Zakuro froze. He slowly turned his head to look behind him. There was a gap forming between the branch he was sitting on and the trunk of the tree. It must have happened when he fell on it earlier. He let his head drop to his chest, the movement causing another crack to echo in the still morning. This was not going to end well, he just knew it.

Slowly, Zakuro maneuvered his body until both of his legs were dangling down. His stomach was laying over the branch and he could feel the rough bark digging into his perfect skin. Damn it! Now he was going to have to travel to that little youkai village where that wrinkled old youkai woman sold her famous creams! It was the only cream he found to keep his skin soft and supple, just how the ladies liked it.

He was just getting ready to lower himself by his arms, when it happened. The branch cracked all the way through, sending the crows flying all around his head, pecking at his beautiful face. He let go of the branch to cover his face and fell, landing square on his ass. Flopping back to lay on the ground, Zakuro watched the crows circle around his head, high up in the air.

One day, he was going to run into the Sanzo party again. Then, he was going to steal that prissy monk’s gun and bullets, chase down these fucking crows and blow them all to hell!

Yaone was waiting at the huge twin front doors when Zakuro arrived. Her body started to hum with anticipation. She had been planning this for quite some time. Yaone had practiced Lady Gyokumen Koushu’s handwriting until she was satisfied that no one could tell the difference. Then, she sent a letter, demanding Zakuro return to Hotou castle, where he would face the wrath of Gyokumen Koushu. She watched him as he walked up the long walkway to the front doors.

“Hello, Zakuro.”

Bright jade eyes met solemn gray ones. Shock was evident in one pair of eyes, while something else simmered just below the surface of the other ones. They stood at the front door, staring at each other for several minutes.

Zakuro had always liked Yaone. She was kind and gentle, the total opposite of Gyokumen Koushu. A brilliant healer, Zakuro had been to see her many times in the past for various injuries. A sudden tightness in his groin almost took his breath away as he’d remembered the last time he’d been here. Yaone had looked at an injury on his neck. She had leaned over him, her large breasts brushing against his broad chest, while she ran her delicate fingers over his injury. Her warm moist breath had tickled his neck, making the front of his pants tight.

He’d been unable to contain his groan when she’d licked the pad of her thumb, wetting it to wipe away a little bit of dried blood from his neck. He’d wondered what she tasted like.

Shaking himself, bringing his mind back to the present, he returned her greeting. Opening one of the large front doors, Yaone motioned Zakuro to go through them. He entered the dark entryway and stepped to the side, letting her pass.

“I’m sure you know why you’re here.” She spoke to him without looking over her shoulder. “If you will so kindly follow me, I will take you somewhere where you may wait for Lady Gyokumen Koushu.”

Following Yaone closely so he didn’t get lost in the vast castle, Zakuro wondered just what was in store for him. They passed dozens of rooms until they arrived at what was obviously the wing where Kougaiji and the others lived. Yaone unlocked a door and opened it. Zakuro peered in, wondering where she had led him. This wasn’t Gyokumen Koushu’s room, that he was sure of. He was about to ask why he was here, when Yaone did something unexpected.

Pushing Zakuro through the open doors, Yaone closed and locked the heavy door behind her. She had led him to her suite of rooms. Ahead of him across the room, was a huge four poster bed, with lush red draperies surrounding it, tied back at the four corners. A fire was lit in the fireplace, making the room cozy and warm. Plush rugs, with intricate designs lay at the entrance of the room with more in front of furniture and several by the bed. A large lattice lace window faced the mountains, which Zakuro could still see in the dying sunlight.

Yaone walked around the room, lighting fat, fragrant candles. There must have been dozens of these in the vast room. Zakuro walked deeper into the room, passing a doorway that led to a bathroom with an enormous tub.

“Please, remove your coat.” Yaone watched with burning eyes as he undid the chains that hooked the coat together. He placed it in her hands, noticing they were trembling slightly. She opened the door to the wardrobe and hung it up.

“Lady Gyokumen Koushu didn’t send for me, did she?”

“Now, your shoes, if you please.” He walked over to her and took off his shoes and socks. She placed them in the bottom of the wardrobe. “You may leave your gloves on.” She told him, when she’d noticed he started to take them off. He let his hands fall to his sides, waiting for her next command.

She smelled so good. Sweet like vanilla and a little spicy, like the herbs she spent her days mixing into the potions and salves she used for healing. Her long dark hair shone in the soft candlelight, making his hands itch to touch it, to pull the twin ponytails out and let it spill over his hands.

Normally, he would have taken charge of a situation like this. In the past, he was always doing the seducing and unless he was totally reading Yaone wrong…tonight, he would be the one being seduced.

“It was you who sent for me, wasn’t it?” Yaone still refused to answer his questions.

Still standing by the wardrobe, Zakuro watched Yaone search though a bureau drawer. His eyes widened and began to burn when she turned around and saw what she was holding. Leather cuffs connected to a long, light chain. What the hell was she going to do with those? Was she going to have him cuff her? Or was she…

“Please hold out your hands.” She came back to him, unbuckling the cuffs as she walked. He held out his hands, his hands beginning to shake with pent up passion. This was a side of Yaone he never would have even guessed at. Quiet Yaone. The healer of their little group was buckling his wrists in the leather shackles.

“I thought you had a thing for Kougaiji.”

The cuffs were in place, the chain dangling between his wrists. They weren’t tight but he wouldn’t be able to slip out of them either. The leather had felt cool at first but soon the cuffs were warm against his heated skin.

“Hmm.” She stepped back, tugging on the chain, dragging Zakuro near the huge four poster bed. “People usually think that about me. I guess it’s because I would give my life for Lord Kougaiji.”

Stopping about halfway to the bed, Yaone pushed Zakuro against the wall. The fireplace was behind her, lighting her up, creating a burning aura around her. Pressing her body up against his, she grabbed the chain and lifted it. Zakuro finally noticed the huge hook several inches above his head. Tossing the chain over the hook, Yaone managed to have Zakuro’s arms over his head but there was enough slack that his arms wouldn’t get tired.

“I would give my life for Lord Kougaiji,” She ran her long nails gently down Zakuro’s sides, causing him to hiss in pleasure. “But, he doesn’t have my body.” She brushed her lush lips against his.

He cursed her for just a second for chaining him up like this. Tugging against the chains, Zakuro tried to get closer to Yaone. She took pity on him and pressed her body up against his, cuddling his arousal with her hips. Tongues fought for dominance in a kiss that was little more than two pair of lips on each other. Her hands were everywhere; on his back, his stomach and finally settling on his lean hips.

He was thrusting against her, his arousal hard against her soft belly. With the back of her knuckles, she ran her hand over the zipper of his leather jeans. He broke the kiss, throwing his head back and chanted her name, over and over. Chains rattling, muscles bunching up, Zakuro’s body tightened up as wave after wave of desire washed over him.

“L…listen to me, Yaone.” Yaone’s hands stilled on his body. “Remove the cuffs from my hands.” Her hands moved to his belt buckle and undid his belt, slowly sliding the belt from around his waist.

“Yaone! Look at me!” Turning her face up, she met his jade eyes with her gray ones. Her hands were on the zipper of his jeans. “Let me go! I command you to listen to me!”

The soft shush of his zipper was all that could be heard in the room. Yaone had his zipper down and was removing his leather pants. His erection sprang free from the tight restraint of his jeans and before he knew it, he was nude. Folding his pants and placing them on a chair, Yaone moved back to face him. Her hands were everywhere again.

“I suppose I should tell you something. I have been immune to you illusionist powers for some time now. You can command me all you want or I can stare into your beautiful eyes all I want and you have no power over me.”

Mouths crashed together, tongues mated. Pulling at the chain again, Zakuro tried freeing himself. It was no use. No matter how thin the chain was, it was stronger than him. All he could do was watch as Yaone removed her clothes. She was a goddess, beautiful and strong. The light from the fire behind her only highlighted that fact. He longed to hold her, to taste her, to love her but she was out of his reach in more ways than one.

Dropping to her knees, Yaone stared up at Zakuro. His heart began to race as he realized what she was about to do. He wanted to beg her to stop and at the same time, beg her to take him in her mouth. Lightly, she ran her fingers over his erection, causing shivers of desire to run rampant over his body. He moaned as he saw her move closer and he closed his eyes, knowing if he watched, he wouldn’t last.

It was sheer heaven and sheer hell. She was creating the most intense suction between her mouth and her tongue. Holding his erection with one hand, she let the other drift softly over his legs. His back arched as she teased the top of his feet with her fingertips. She took him deeper in her mouth.

“Yaone, stop. I…I’m going to…” She let go of him and sat back on her heels. Zakuro’s head was thrown back and he was panting, as if he had run for miles and had finally stopped. Still kneeling, she drank in the sight of him. He wasn’t the most intelligent youkai but there was something that drew her to him. Maybe it was his overwhelming sexuality, or his brilliant eyes that seemed to look right inside her, down to her soul. Whatever it was, she had wanted to know his touch, his kisses and to feel him deep inside of her for the longest time.

Reaching up and pulling the chain from the hook, Yaone took Zakuro’s arms and let them down. She undid each cuff and tossed the chain to the side. As she kissed his wrists where the leather had rubbed a bit, Yaone wondered if she had made a mistake by bringing him here. This was crazy and so unlike her.

Before she knew it, Zakuro had her in his arms and was carrying her over to the huge four poster bed. Gently laying her down, he drew back the covers and then he lay down next to her.

“I don’t know why you did this tonight, but I’m not going to question it. I’ve wanted you for the longest time, but thought you were with Kougaiji.” He brushed back the bangs from her forehead. “If you want me to leave, tell me now.” He looked deep into her eyes, watching for any sign of apprehension on her part. Seeing none, he kissed her.

Softly, he kissed his way down to her full breasts. Running his hands over her already stiff nipples, he watched the play of emotions cross her face. The look of innocence was long gone from her face, replaced by raw passion. Wanting something more intimate, he got off the bed.

Walking around the bed, Zakuro undid the curtains from their tiebacks, letting them fall around the bed. He pulled them closed on the sides of the bed, but left them parted at the end. The light from the fireplace created a soft glow, enclosing them in a world of their own.

Yaone sat up on her elbows and watched him. He was still aroused to the point where he looked like he might be in pain. Their eyes met in the soft light and she watched him crawl up into the bed again, settling near the junction of her thighs. The first light touch of his tongue on her core sent her senses reeling and she dropped back on the bed again.

Feasting on her feminine flesh, Zakuro drove Yaone to heights she never reached alone. He was alternating between slow licks and quick flicks of his tongue. Her hands fisted in his hair, her long nails lightly digging into his scalp and it was more pleasurable than he ever imagined. Legs shaking, hands clenching into the sheets, Yaone was lost in a sea of passion. She wanted to beg for more, but she couldn’t utter a single comprehensive word. Her breath came in pants, his name, in groans.

Yaone’s hips started bucking and before she could climax, Zakuro was over her, his erection at her soaking wet entrance. With a quick twist of his hips, he was deep inside her. That was enough to send her over the edge. She came, moaning his name, pulsing hard around him. Blackness engulfed her and she finally understood why this feeling was called a little death.

As she caught her breath, Zakuro started to move. The weight of his body was a little heavy but she didn’t care. It was wonderful to be connected to someone this way. She wrapped her legs around his slim hips and moved with him.

He wanted to tell her how this felt to be connected with her but words were beyond him at this point. She was so tight and wet that it was almost painful to be in her. But he couldn’t stop even if he wanted to. Burying his head in her neck, Zakuro lightly bit down and sucked her perfect skin into his mouth. She would have a mark in the morning.

Running her hands over his muscular back, Yaone left marks that would remind him of this night. The slight pain only added to his pleasure. He quickened his thrusts, feeling her start to flutter around him. He wanted more and he lifted his upper body off of her, bracing himself on his palms and thrust deeper. Her legs tightened around his hips, drawing him in even deeper.

Muttering her name, he circled his hips, sending Yaone over the brink of desire again. Her orgasm sent him over the edge and he gave several deep, quick thrusts. Yaone managed to open her eyes to see Zakuro, his head thrown back, mouth slightly open as he came. She could feel his seed filling her. He collapsed on top of her, panting her name and kissing parts of her he could reach without moving too much.

They lay that way for a bit until Zakuro rolled onto his side and she pulled the covers up over the both of them. Nights could be cold in the drafty castle. They lay facing each other, softly kissing until sleep overtook them. The fire slowly went out and the lovers slept in each others arms.

The next morning, Zakuro woke slowly trying to figure out where he was. His hand crept to where Yaone had slept, but the sheets were cold. She had been up and gone for a few hours. His fingers closed over thick paper and he rubbed the sleep from his eyes to read the note.

“Zakuro,

Please forgive me for leaving so early this morning. Lord Kougaiji called us out to meet the Sanzo party for battle and my presence was required. I trust that you slept well.

We will be at a small town 20 miles east of here. It is on the main road and if you follow it, you will come to an inn in two days time. It’s a nice inn with a wonderful little restaurant that serves the most delicious food.

When you reach the inn, please ask to be directed to the room of “Mrs. Smith”. I will be waiting there, a hot bath ready for you and a nice meal that we can enjoy in our room.

Yaone

Staring at her beautiful handwriting, Zakuro began to grin. He’d better get moving if he was to be at that inn in only two days time. Yaone had thoughtfully put out his clothes on the chair near the bed and he jumped out of bed and got dressed.

He was almost out of the door when he realized he’d forgotten a very important item. Digging though her bureau drawers, he finally found what he was looking for. Slinging the light chain around his neck, he fingered the leather cuffs at each end.

Exiting Hotou Castle, he looked warily up to the sky. Nothing but blue skies and several fat little clouds. Not a damn crow in sight. Zakuro sighed, letting the morning sun warm his face. It was shaping up to be a damn fine day.

Gaiden spoilers, maybe? :o

Kenren getting killed by the Natakus. Or, hell, the death of all the Gaiden cast, barring Goku of course. I'm just really starved for the next Gaiden chapters is all. :(

Wolf at the Door

Kouryuu finished his chores and stood looking at his master, violet eyes burning into the back of Koumyou ’s neck until finally the boy gathered the energy and whatever thoughts he required to speak.

“Is the story true, about the beast who ripped out throats for the sheer joy of mutilation?”

Koumyou sighed around his pipe. He had expected the question, and even the tone. It was not dubious, or incredulous. Simply curious. “It is not”

“I see. Thank you,” Kouryuu replied, and began to unfold his futon onto the floor.

“You should understand,” Koumyou continued, “that it was misunderstood.”

Kouryuu blinked up at his master. “But Jin said that it ripped out the throats of hundreds of children,” he said. He didn’t sound frightened, just curious. “That it was evil.”

“It was searching for itself,” Koumyou replied. “It needed to feel what it was that supposedly made it evil.”

“It made itself evil because it was evil, then?”

“It became evil because people made it out to be evil,” the man elaborated. “Perhaps I should start from the beginning”

Kouryuu nodded up at him, eyes wide. Koumyou sighed. “Alright, but you must go to sleep right after. It is late even for me to be up.”

Kouryuu considered that, and nodded. “Let me get your tea and then I’ll be in bed, and be asleep as soon as you’ve finished.”

Koumyou smiled slightly, and nodded. He had of course he had told his ward stories before. They served careful points. He didn’t recall having ever told the boy a bedtime story before. He settled himself at the small table in the center of the room, spinning the tale and the lesson together. A beginning and a middle. No end. It didn’t do to have an end to the stories.

This beast would have four legs, he decided as Kouryuu came back over, carefully carrying the hot water. He waited while the boy set down the water, carefully preparing the tea and handing it to him, and waited longer while Kouryuu slid between the layers of his futon, sitting cross-legged under the blanket portion.

“If you are prepared, I shall begin,” Koumyou said, ignoring the look from the boy that seemed to indicate that this was an explanation he was about to receive, not a Zen riddle.
“Many years ago,” Koumyou began, “there was a blind man who lived in the woods, high up on a mountain. Having outlived his family, he did not have the money to go to the village and take up residence there.”

Kouryuu seemed to realize that this was not going to be a short explanation, and shifted slightly, pulling his pillow behind his hips as a sort of rudimentary backrest. His eyes, however, never left his master’s face.

“One day, the old man was walking within the woods, when he heard a sound that put him in mind of an injured dog. Cautiously, he moved towards it and, as he got closer, the cloying scent of rotting flesh began to fill his nose. Cautiously, he used touch, smell, and hearing to paint the picture of a dead, rotting mother wolf, surrounded by the corpses of her litter.”

Kouryuu gazed up at him, “What killed them?”

Koumyou smiled and shook his head. “Perhaps a bear, or perhaps hunters, he could not see that far back with his limited senses. But the sound he’d heard had been from one of the pups, the only one to survive.

“Believing it to be the right, good thing to do, the old man picked up the pup and carried it carefully back to his cabin. There, he stroked his hands over it, uncovering its mysteries. It was injured, its head damaged.”

Kouryuu’s eyes narrowed, and although he did not say it loudly enough to interrupt the story, he muttered something about men and clubs under his breath. Koumyou simply continued the story.

“He treated the wounds as well as he could, taking care of the damage he could recognize, and miraculously the wolf began to heal. It became the man’s closest friend, staying by his side always, unless he went into the village. As they reached the border, the wolf would melt into the woods, and wait for his rescuer to return, so they could go back up the mountain together.”

“One day, the man asked for a few people from the town come to help him fix a window which had broken in a storm. As they neared the cabin, the wolf became agitated, pacing and growling, obviously frightened.”

Kouryuu nodded, as if a great mystery had been solved. “It was a human who had hurt him, wasn’t it?”

“Perhaps,” Koumyou replied. “Although it is simple to act irrationally without a reason. Either way, the man sensed his friend’s fear, and stroked the head of the wolf, whispering to it that it must not fear people. Yes, there was evil in the world, and sometimes you had to be cautious. But if you watched carefully enough, you could detect it.”

Koumyou paused, guessing his student might be ready to interrupt him again, and Kouryuu did not disappoint. “Can you?”

Koumyou simply smiled again. “Again, it is not of consequence. All that mattered is that the man thought it was true, and believed it enough to tell someone else. He went on to tell the wolf that you could tell a good person from a bad person by the way their voices worked, and the wolf took this to heart.”

Koumyou paused from his story to take a drink from the teacup at his side, and then continued. “A few years later the old man passed away, as the elderly often do. The wolf, confused, went into the village. He no longer had anyone to care for him, you see, and the old man had made him dependent on others.

“The people ran away in fear, searching out their weapons. They were afraid of the wolf, not understanding why such a large, supposedly savage beast would come from the mountains. It continued to haunt the edges of town, confused, and one day the villagers realized that the old man had not come down from his cabin for quite some time. They sent a group of men out to investigate.

“Of course, they found the corpse and, around it, the footprints of the wolf. They did not stop to examine the corpse, and simply assumed the wolf had killed the man. From that moment on, the wolf was evil. A man-killer.”

The look on Kouryuu’s face revealed that he thought very little of the people, or of the wolf, but he didn’t say anything as he settled down further, waiting for his master to continue the story.

“So they began to hunt the wolf,” Koumyou continued. “Of course, the beast ran, hid, and watched from the shadows when it could. The men were talking, angrily, gesturing. One of them sounded different than the others, softer. ‘Certainly,’ the wolf thought, ‘this must be one of the good people my master talked about. I must figure out how his voice works.’”

Kouryuu was watching with narrowed eyes, already having guessed the next bit. "The beast took it literally?"

Koumyou nodded. “He had not the experience to understand it any other way. He attacked the man with the different voice, feeling the vibrations of his scream, and still not understanding the meaning.”

“So the wolf was a man-killer. He was responsible.”

“Oh, he was. He knew what life and death were, but he had also been told by someone he trusted that this was how truth worked. So he pressed on. Hiding in the shadows, he heard whispers about how the man with the different voice had been kind. He remembered his master telling him stories of kind women. When he tried to get to the voices of the women, he heard whispers about the evil beast that kills innocent women. He remembered that the blind man told him that children were the true innocents of the world, and so he tried to find answers in them.”

“But that’s stupid!” Kouryuu said vehemently.

Koumyou took a drag on his pipe and exhaled slowly, waiting long enough for Kouryuu to have time to think before he asked the question, “Is it?”

“The wolf was killing people just to figure out what a good person was, because an old, dead guy said that they sounded different. The people decided the wolf was evil. They made him evil. The old man made him...” the boy trailed off, suddenly confused.

“The blind man inadvertantly made him ‘violent’. The villagers made the wolf ‘evil’ by not bothering to check that he really had killed the blind man. The wolf made himself into a demon by becoming obsessed with his desire.”

“So whose fault was it?”

“They were all just living,” Koumyou replied. “and now the story is over, and you must sleep.”

Kouryuu made no objection, burrowing down under the futon and turning to face the wall.

After his charge had settled into the pillows, Koumyou stood and walked outside.

“Certainly you have better things to do than lurk outside people’s homes, Ukoku?” he murmured into the darkness.

“I couldn’t possibly resist the chance to hear such depressing stories. Although are stories about killer beasts really the best bedtime material for young boys?”

“He needs to know about such beasts.”

“Ah. And the wolf, did he ever find what he was searching for?” Ukoku asked, eyes bright under the moon.

Koumyou paused; exhaling smoke into the air and watching the tendrils float up and dissipate. “Of course he didn’t. The truth he wanted to find didn’t exist.”

Ukoku snorted. “Yes, it did. It existed in the screams of all those men, women and children he killed. He came closer to an answer each time he took a life.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. The man may not have said what the wolf thought, but the beast created his own truth from the words. The true merit of his kills was not their voices, but their lives."

“We create our own truths from the perspectives we take from what goes on around us.”

“Exactly. It is foolish to believe that anyone means what they say,” Ukoku said.

“Then one should never say what they mean, and instead speak around the matter. It’s easier to find a truth when it is in a fence of words, rather than when it is part of a forest of words”

“There is no truth, other than death. Even the dumb dog in your story was smart enough to figure that out,” Ukoku replied.

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps,” Ukoku repeated, drolly. “So how long before you create a wolf?”

Koumyou didn’t look at the man he still considered, for now, a friend. Instead he chose to star out past the treeline where the moon shone almost white in the sky. “I think I already have," he said. Unspoken, he would count himself lucky if he didn't create two.

Anime Reload-universe:

How the guys deal with it when someone steals their underwear in order to sell them to "fans".

Yaone paused in her walk through the hall.

The sounds coming from the kitchen weren’t exactly cursing, but more things someone would say if they were very pointedly attempting not to curse. It was a familiar voice, and not one she commonly associated with cursing in the kitchen.

Of course, it always helped to be cautious, so she didn’t just waltz into the kitchen, instead poking her head carefully around the corner.

And tried very hard not to laugh.

“Dokugakuji, sir, what are you doing?”

The man looked up at her, covered in flour and holding something that might have been bread, if the loaf had been laced with one of Yaone’s own bombs before being put in the oven.

“I don’t know. But that’s rather the problem,” the man replied somewhat testily.

“Should I instead ask what you were trying to do?” Yaone tried again.

“Bake.”

“Bake?” Yaone tried to keep the disbelief out of her voice. After all, she shouldn’t be surprised. The evidence of what Dokugakuji had been trying to do was right in front of her face. And under her sandals. And on Dokugakuji.

“It seems to be going badly, perhaps I could lend you assistance?”

“You know how to bake?” Dokugakuji asked, not bothering to mask the surprise in his voice.

“No,” Yaone said, “but I know how to mix chemicals. The principles are the same.”

If Doku thought that making bombs and baking didn’t seem anything alike, he didn’t say anything. Not that there was much he could say, seeing that it couldn’t be worse than what he himself had done. He nodded.

“What were you trying to bake?” Yaone asked. It was always best to start with the basics.

“Strawberry muffins.”

Yaone blinked. If the thing in Dokugakuji’s hand was supposed to be muffins, this was worse than she’d thought. Looking around, she grabbed a flour-covered hotpad and gingerly took the horrid-looking mass from the man’s hands. The pan did appear to have been a muffin tin, although the batter had expanded enough that the sides, top, and even part of the bottom had been coated. She briefly thought to ask WHY he was trying to make muffins, except she knew.

They were for Kougaiji . They’d relocated to an inn briefly, for Lirin’s sake, and the man had not only looked his usual levels of exhausted, but downright crushed with the barmaid had told him that they were nearly out of the muffins that the men at the table next to them were extolling the virtues of. They’d received one, which of course Kou had given to Lirin. Yaone herself had thought of the ways she could get him some. He would have been disappointed if she threatened the men who had the muffins, and he would have never accepted if they’d asked the woman to work harder and make more.

So, the knowledge of “why” firmly in hand, Yaone turned her eye to the disaster in her hands.

“You need less, obviously, of whatever you were using to make the batter expand,” she said, and poked at the mass. “And the batter itself needs to be thinner.”

Dokugakuji nodded, and gestured to the table. “This is what I was using.”

Yaone turned an alchemist’s eye to the materials, swiftly comparing their values to the ones she knew from her usual activities. She grabbed a bowl, and began mixing. Dokugakuji watched for a while then, trusting she knew better about these things, set about cleaning up part of the mess he’d made. Eventually the cooks he’d bribed away were going to have to return, and he had a feeling they would not be pleased with the current state of the kitchen. When he’d made a dent in the mess, he sent about slicing strawberries. He was reasonably certain nothing had gone chemically wrong with that step.

After an hour or so, Yaone stepped back from a bowl full of a blue-green batter with a decisive nod. “This should work,” she said, taking the carefully-sliced strawberries from Dokugakuji and adding them to the mixture.

“Should the be stoked?” Dokugakuji asked, turning an eye to the ominous mouth of the appliance in question. Yaone shook her head.

“No. This mixture should cure for two hours at a medium-hot heat. That should do perfectly.”

Dokugakuji raised an eyebrow. He was fairly certain that baking usually didn’t involve words like “cure” but, then, it really couldn’t get worse. He transferred the tin into the oven, and then set to finishing cleaning up the mess.

Yaone was a skilled cleaner, apparently. Ingredients quickly ordered themselves, and garbage was sealed away in the proper receptacles. One for stuff beyond help or inedible, and the other for edible things. Dokugakuji tried not to think too hard about where the “possibly still edible” things went. The castle had no livestock that he knew about.
Despite efficiency, the “curing” had nearly completed by the time the kitchen was complete, and Yaone pulled the pan from the oven.

They both stared at it. The strawberries had turned a strange sort of orange color, and the bread surrounding them was a pale, unnatural purple.

“I...” Dokugakuji began, and then trailed off.

“...don’t think muffins are supposed to look like this,” Yaone finished miserably.

Dokugakuji sighed. “I suppose we did our best.”

The door creaked open as he finished. “Did your best at what?”

Yaone and Dokugakuji blinked up at one of the last men they’d hoped to see their failure.

“Baking, Lord Kougaiji ,” Yaone said, bowing quickly.

“What she said,” Dokugakuji replied, sheepishly scratching at the back of his head.

“I...see,” Kougaiji said after a pause, eyeing the oddly-colored muffins.

“I’ll just throw these away now,” Yaone said, voice descending in the tone she only used when she’d failed her personal savior.

“Wait!” Kougaiji said, grabbing the pan from her, apparently oblivious to the heat. Which he probably was. He stared down at the pan.

“These were, are, muffins?” he said, wonderingly. Dokugakuji said nothing, and Yaone simply tried to melt into the floor.

“Yes, my lord.”

“Muffins, I....” Whatever he was going to say was masked by the door slamming against the wall as it opened again, hard.

“Muffins?!” a whirl of reddish-yellow said, grabbing the pan from Kougaiji . Before anyone could say anything, two were missing from the pan. Indeed, missing from sight.

“They aren’t very good,” the whirl stated as it revealed itself to be Lirin. “Kinda nasty. You should yell at the cook, brother.”

Dokugakuji blinked. Yaone stared. Kougaiji smiled indulgently. “I’ll speak with them.”

“Okay, good. I don’t think anyone else would be able to eat these,” Lirin said, grabbing another one out of the pan and swallowing it whole. “Yeah, no. They’re definitely gross.”

Then she was gone, down the hall to somewhere. Yaone and Dokugakuji staring at the space she’d left. Kougaiji shook his head.

“I trust that such a review means that you won’t be trying to bake again?”

“Yes, Lord Kougaiji ,” Yaone said, staring at the ground.

“Yeah,” Dokugakuji muttered.

“Good. You’re much more useful doing other things,” Kougaiji said. “The kitchen is not a place for people with your talents. Nor does it wish to be.”

Dokugakuji and Yaone said nothing, Yaone still looking ashamed, and Dokugakuji simply moving to pick up the pan with the remaining muffin travesties to throw them in the trash. The not-semi-edible pile.

Kougaiji paused for a moment, then shook his head and began to walk out. He was halfway out the door when he stopped, and turned around, walking back to Yaone.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

Yaone carefully, cautiously, looked up, desperately hoping that she wasn’t going to be berated for risking poisoning his sister. “Yes?”

The redhead took a deep breath, looking at her for a long moment, and then glanced at Dokugakuji, who was standing by the trash receptacle.

“You did do your best, you always do,” he said.

Then he was gone. A quick turn on his heel, and he disappeared almost as quickly as his sister.

“Did he just tha...” Yaone asked.

“Yeah. I think he did,” Dokugakuji said, then smiled. “These things don’t seem to want to separate from the pan. What should I do?”

Yaone looked at him. “I have no idea. I’m not a baker.”

Oh! This was really quite good, and I enjoyed Koumyou's story, as well as the banter. The last line was powerful as well. Thanks for writing this. :)

Gojyo gets dropped back in time five hundred years to the present day magically, where he runs into Kenren during one of his walks Down Below.

And then, they steal the Colonel Sanders statue.

Wild West AU.- U.S. Marshall Tenpou and Kenren is the new sheriff in town.

AU. Battle of the bands. Gaiden or Saiyuki

WOW.

Anonymous, I think I love you. You have made me one very, very happy requester.

“Ken nii-chan....I was wondering why Ten-chan was making you take off your pants?”

I started laughing at that line and didn't stop until I got to the end. Excellent job.

Very cute, and you did a wonderful job with all of the character interactions. And of course Lirin would eat the creepy-looking purple muffins. XD

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Anonymous Saiyuki "Gen" Meme!

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Re: A second one. Oops. 2/3

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Tie me up, tie me down part 1

Tie me up, tie me down part 2

Tie me up, tie me down part 3

Tie me up, tie me down part 4

Tie me up, tie me down part 5

Tie me up, tie me down part 6

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Wolf at the Door 1/3

Wolf at the Door 2/3

Wolf at the Door 3/3

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Muffins Fit for a Prince 1/3

Muffins Fit for a Prince 2/3

Muffins Fit for a Prince 3/3

Re: Wolf at the Door 3/3

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Re: Wolf at the Door 3/3

Re: Wolf at the Door 3/3

Re: A second one. Oops. 2/3

Re: Muffins Fit for a Prince 3/3