It's raining in Yokohama and Goku's gone for a walk and meets someone too familiar. It's not a good thing. Reincarnation story, of sorts. Wild Adapter crossover.
It's just coming home.
He doesn't even understand how he found her other than karma. Other than the fact that when everyone was running out of a bar screaming about monsters like the world was ending there was one person still in the bar screaming at the monster. And there's no way Goku couldn't take a look and see that person. He's been looking forever, it feels like. His whole life, maybe. Looking and wanting and then there she was, trying to beat off the weirdest smelling thing Goku can think of with a bar stool.
And here she is, sitting next to him in the wreckage and it's like no time has passed at all.
He's smiling like an idiot and making Shelly wrinkle her nose and look disgusted, but he doesn't care. "Jesus," she says. "You'd think you were happy about the dead thing. What the fuck is up with the dead thing? Jesus." She rubs at her cheek as if that was going to get all the gunk off.
Goku shrugs and just looks up into her face, still smiling. "I don't really know, but it was fun, huh?" he says. Sanzo would have smacked him and called him an idiot.
"You're an idiot," Shelly says shortly and raises her eyes heavenward, as if complaining to the unseen, but she stops shaking and rubbing her skin, even if it's only long enough to roll her eyes and light another cigarette. "A psychotic whore turned into a creature from beyond and tried to kill me and you're hitting on me."
Goku's smile fades into a plain, open mouthed stare. "I'm what?" Hitting on him? Her? Sanzo? What? That was the weirdest idea he'd ever heard. The weirdness was probably why it had never even occurred to him before.
"You told me I looked like the sun, dimwit," Shelly says slowly and shakes her head, as if to dismiss an irrelevant idiocy. Goku wonders if she has a fan, but she wouldn't. He wonders what Americans have instead of fans. "Fuck. Do you think the cops will be here soon? What are we supposed to tell them, anyway?"
"Cops," Goku repeats, shaken out of thoughts of fans and Sanzo and hell why he didn't even think of that too? Of course there will be police, with the very visible dead thing and all that. And he's still a gajin with no paper trail. This is just going to suck.
"Yeah, cops. They have them here, you know, for all the good they did us just now." Shelly emphasizes the gesture with her cigarette.
"I can't talk to police," Goku admits softly. They'd ask his name and such, and then he couldn't stay here and here was where Shelly was. Not good.
Shelly glares. Her eyes are intensely blue instead of purple, but the shape is just the same. She's beautiful, her hands drawing a wide, stabbing arc with a cigarette. Goku barely notices he's staring again. "Well then. And why, precisely, would that be?" she demands in stiff, properly enunciated words.
"I-" he begins and closes his mouth before actually telling her everything. He probably will anyway, even though it's stupid and the Sanzo in his head is calling him names. He's not going to lie to her. It's just that there isn't any time right now, with the police. "I'll tell you later, okay? Where are you staying?"
Shelly shrugs, writes down an address on a bar napkin and hands it to him. Then she stares at the paper, his hand and then back to hers as if she doesn't understand something that just happened here. Goku almost asks her about it but he doesn't have to. "Why the hell did I just give you that? If you start stalking me now they will never find your corpse. Do you understand? Never."
"Okay, Shelly, I understand," he says and smiles at her. Her hair is so pretty, even splattered with blood. He thinks if she had a gun he'd probably have a hole in him somewhere by now and that makes him stupidly happy.
"Fuck you, asshole. Stop hitting on me," she hisses, but he can hear the sirens coming so he has to run for it. Goku leaves her sitting on a bar stool in the carnage and he can swear she almost smiled back at him when he waved.
He watches the police come in from the roof of the nearest building, just in case. He can almost hear Shelly's voice from where he's hiding, bright and sharp and angry amidst the sing-song Japanese and he knows he won't be able to stop grinning. Goku can almost imagine what the rest of them would say if they saw him now, how Hakkai would smile in that knowing way and Gojyo would tease him until Goku got mad enough to scream. Sanzo would roll his eyes and call him a fucking idiot.
But then they aren't exactly here, any of them. Kubota would raise an eyebrow and shrug and Goku has no idea about the wounded boy Kubota had picked up in the alley a few months ago, doesn't even know his name. Shelly would... he'd find out. Soon, tonight. He'll bring her dinner and cigarettes and sunflowers, because they'll look nice against the backdrop of her hair and find out exactly what she'll say. Maybe she'll smile at him.
Goku is so distracted imagining what it might be like he almost misses the sight of one very tall Japanese boy with glasses and a permanently attached cigarette striding into the bar right through the police lines, followed far too closely by a shorter boy with hunched shoulders, one glove and an expression caught between annoyance and curiosity. And that's when Goku remembers where he smelled something exactly like that thing today before. A few months ago in a Yokohama alley on an unconscious boy with a clawed, animal hand.
Goku's hands tighten on the cement underneath them and he stares straight ahead, wondering what, if anything he can or should do now. Karma again, so there's probably nothing he can do about any of it. It seems like hours later when he hears the sounds of broken Japanese cobbled together with some kind of Engrish as Shelly strides out of the bar flanked by Kubota and his friend and followed by a police officer yelling something about having more questions for her later.