Under the Weather

Symptoms

UNDER THE WEATHER  

Chapter Nine: Symptoms

By: Author 2

Disclaimer: I don’t own Saiyuki. I own the OC’s, except for Kintora, who belongs to NeonPink2011. Author 1 and Colorfulbubble12 are my editors.

I’d planned to stay up the whole night with the others, but I must’ve fallen asleep. The sunlight coming from the window tells me that much. I also know enough to figure out that it’s two hours past the time I’m supposed to wake Master Sanzo. I grudgingly roll over and lurch out of bed, trip over my three roommates, and stagger into Master Sanzo’s room.

The bed is in disarray, but Master Sanzo isn’t in it. Shit.

I sprint out into the courtyard and crash straight into Monk Basu.

“M-my gods, Chintose, there’s no need to go so fast within the temple walls! A quality monk’s have is patience; I encourage you to look into it! Now, be a good boy and help me up.” Monk Basu lectures. I whip my bad wrist out of his reach and pull him up. He smoothes down his scraggly white beard.

“Master Sanzo?” I ask. Monk Basu chuckles and points towards the field of sakuras. He knows Master Sanzo is the only one allowed in there. Unfortunately for Monk Basu, Master Sanzo has already made it clear he doesn’t mind my presence there. I jog out of his sight, then sprint the remainder of the way, jumping over the small gate. By the time I reach Master Sanzo, my throat is burning, and I can barely breathe. I double over behind him, panting. He doesn’t divert any attention from folding an orange piece of paper into a plane.

 “Sorry.” I gasp out.

“Sit.” Master Sanzo says, releasing the plane into the air. I do.

“Hakkai told me about yesterday.” He pauses. “Is that the only reason you came to the temple?”

“Yes.” I say. Master Sanzo nods. He turns to look into my eyes.

“I don’t like liars, and I don’t like greedy fuckers who take advantage of the soft life in a temple. At least the other monks here are genuinely annoying.” He says, his own annoyance clear. I shrug, blushing. He has no idea the extent of my lies.

“Then this is compensation.” I say. Master Sanzo snorts.

“Gods don’t compensate, and they don’t help out, either, that’s for sure. They watch and snicker at the unending stupidity of Humans.” He says. I punch him lightly on the shoulder. I wonder if that’s allowed.

“But,” Master Sanzo continues, “they occasionally have some good advice, if you look for it.”

“Why am I allowed?” I ask, picking a sakura flower and waving it in front of Master Sanzo’s face.