Work Text:
…there it was, the Seiten Sutra, which governs over holiness and the Yang principle, attached to a bunch of electrodes like some cheap car battery–
“Kyuu!” Hakuryuu trilled. The passage never failed to irritate him. He had all the respect in the world for Sanzo. The ex-priest was a passable shotgun passenger (well, except for those times when he had burned a hole or two into Jeep’s seat), but he was neither a mechanic nor a car buff. What did Sanzo know of car batteries, cheap or otherwise? Had he ever seen one?
Hakuryuu liked the rest of the book even less. The prose was too flowery and long-winded, the scenes were haphazardly paced and the characters were unapologetically one-dimensional.
An opinion Hakuryuu’s master did not appear to share, judging by the satisfied chuckle he seemed to emit at the end of every other page.
His master’s hand, plump and soft and gentle, patted him absentmindedly on the head. The same hand moved away and down to turn the page over. They were on the sofa, Hakkai lounging on it and Hakuryuu perching on its back, reading along with his master.
Hakuryuu chirped again, in case his master had not caught on, not even after all these years. Must Hakkai read that book again? What about one of the hundreds of books in the gigantic bookshelf behind them instead? Maybe the one about a little dragon on a little planet and the boy who was his only friend?
Alas, Hakkai was apparently deaf to this particular complaint of Hakuryuu’s. Strange, for his master seemed perfectly capable of understanding him when it came to other points. Letting out a sigh, Hakuryuu folded his limbs under him, curled his tail around them and laid his head down on the midsection of his tail. The words on the page danced across his vision, gradually turning into a blur.
The stupid kappa tried to snatch it with his bare hands, receiving a good jolt of electric shock for his pains. What an idiot. What a pity that the shock had not killed him and reduced the number of fools in this sad world already overpopulated with fools. Well, one can always hope. Letting Hakkai deal with him, I chanted the opening passage of the Seiten Sutra, words that would summon the scroll to me. The electrodes fell away like over-sated leeches and the Seiten Sutra rose into the air, eagerly gliding into my waiting hand.
Hakuryuu did not need to read the rest to know the end of that particular chapter. He had been there after all. Remnants of youkai, regrouping from the assault by Nataku and his army, had howled after them as they sped away from Houtou Castle. On some nights, Hakuryuu had woken up with a phantom pain in his tail, a reminder of the bullets and the spears from the castle’s defenders. Despite Hakkai’s attempt to steer Jeep into a zigzag course, some of the bullets and the spears had managed to pierce his rear bumper.
“Still reading that crap, huh?”
Hakuryuu lazily opened an eye. It was the man with red hair and eyes, his master’s housemate and the bane of Hakuryuu’s existence, his rival for Hakkai’s attention and affection. Red man used to reek of beer and tobacco and perfume. These days, he stank of beer and tobacco and fried noodles and muscle relief salves. His red hair was streaked with gray and the lines on his face had deepened over the years, but he probably still labored under the illusion that the stupid smirk currently plastered on his face was the epitome of youthful sexiness.
Oh, Hakuryuu lamented inwardly. What had his master ever seen in that man?
His master fumbled for the bookmark, which had fallen somewhere under the seat of the sofa. Placing the bookmark on the page, he gently shut the book. Its dust jacket was chipped at the edges and bumped at the corners, but it was a well-cared-for volume, considering its age.
“’The Travels of Genjo Sanzo: My 2000 days to India and Back with a Glutton, a Lecher and a Hypocrite’,” Gojyo read out lout the title emblazoned across the dust jacket. “Heh. Should have sued that shitty monk for libel.”
Hakuryuu opened his other eye. Gojyo in a cranky mood always pleased him. His satisfaction would have been complete, if not for the itchiness that had been plaguing him for the last week. And oh, the gnawing pain in his belly that would not go away no matter how much Hakkai fed him. It felt as if the acid in his stomach was trying to eat its way out of him.
A smile lit up Hakkai’s face. It also lifted Hakuryuu’s mood, as it had never failed to since the day he had first woken up in this house, a day that was almost a lifetime ago.
“It is not libel if it is true, Gojyo.”
“Is it? What gave His Holiness the right to call us his servants in that book of his? I sure don’t remember signing up as one. Also, every mention of me is followed by the words ‘moron’, ‘fool’ or ‘idiot.’ So don’t blame me for never finishing the damn doorstop.”
“Oh, I don’t, Gojyo. It is fine not to finish reading a book you don’t like. But it is not fine to hurl a book across the room, no matter how much you disagree with its contents.”
Hakkai fingered the crack along the book’s spine. His expression was still as placid as ever, but Hakuryuu knew what the almost imperceptible catch in his breath and the hard glint in his eyes meant.
Trouble for red man who stinks of oil and onion, Hakuryuu cackled gleefully to himself.
“Ah. Er, did I do that?” Gojyo rubbed the back of his neck, before raising his hands, as if in defeat. “Okay, maybe I did. Once, or twice. No, I swear it was only once, Hakkai.”
“Once is more than enough, Gojyo. Admittedly, Sanzo’s descriptions may have been unflattering.” Hakkai wagged his finger, his voice measured and a practiced smile fixed on his face. Ooh, Hakuryuu’s heart sang. Big trouble for red man.
“However,” Hakkai continued, “he did give us a share of the proceeds. Which you used to open that tavern of yours.”
Wiping his hands on his apron, Gojyo snorted. “Heh. A paltry sum in return for being bad-mouthed to all of Tougenkyou. I sure hope to the gods that no-one’s reading this awful thing anymore these days. I still remember the funny looks we got when it first got out.”
He took off his apron and hung it on the hook on the wall.
“By the way, Gojyo,” Hakkai purred. “I’m afraid you’d have to do the dishes for the rest of the week. I’ll be quite busy with the staff review.”
“Eh? But we’d agreed that I only do the dishes on my days off. I can’t leave the tavern to Banri for one whole week!”
“You’d have to make do, Gojyo. Close early, leave early and let Banri take care of the tavern on his own, or just wash the dishes after you’re done at the tavern.”
“What? Come home to another load of dirty plates after cleaning loads of them at the tavern? No way!”
“Gojyo,” Hakkai’s reprimand was stern, brooking no refusal.
Yes! Here it comes. Punishment for smelly red man! Hakuryuu opened his mouth to chirrup in delight. Unfortunately, the pressure that had been building up in his stomach chose to rise up in his throat at the same time. The chirrup turned into a belch. A fiery one.
Gojyo snatched the apron and beat it against Hakkai’s hair, cursing frantically. Luckily for Hakkai, the fire, small to begin with, was soon put out. Aside from a few singed strands of hair and eyebrows, he appeared to be unharmed.
“Thank the bloody gods,” Gojyo breathed out in relief.
“The book, Gojyo!” Hakkai pointed at Sanzo’s memoir. He had flung it down onto the floor during the commotion. Blue flames were licking at its edges, which were starting to curl and blacken under the heat.
“Damn the book!” Gojyo stomped a slippered foot onto the blazing volume.
“Kyuu,” was all Hakuryuu had to say about the sorry incident. He felt bad about Hakkai’s hair and eyebrows. And Hakkai’s dismay over the charred hole in the carpet. But Hakuryuu absolutely did not feel bad about the book. At least his master would stop reading the damn thing after dinner these days. And yes, the forlorn look on Gojyo’s face as he examined his ruined slipper definitely made Hakuryuu’s day.
Stinky red man.
**
In retrospect, Hakuryuu had only himself to blame. Or rather, his skin. Since it was white, no-one, not even he himself, had noticed the flakes of old skin clinging to him, something which would have been obvious were his skin of a darker shade. By the time enough old skin had failed to slough off, forming a thick, opaque layer that obscured his vision, he was feeling so lethargic that not even the smell of dinner would lure him out of his basket.
“What’s the matter, Hakuryuu?” Hakkai was hovering over him, his brow knitted in concern. He placed a hand on Hakuryuu’s head, only to snatch it away as a thick piece of skin came off.
“Oh, my,” he muttered. “It’s all my fault, Hakuryuu. I’ve been so busy with the teachers’ review at the school for the past week that I’ve not paid you enough attention.”
“Kyuu,” Hakuryuu groaned weakly.
“Yes, indeed. I’ll take a day off tomorrow and we’ll go to the vet first thing in the morning. Please bear with it for tonight. Again, I’m sorry, Hakuryuu. Oh, why have I not noticed sooner that you’re unwell?”
Hakuryuu spent the night tossing and turning in his basket, every inch of his skin on fire and the acid biting the inside of his belly. What was happening to him? Something was terribly wrong with him. If he went to sleep now, would he wake up in the morning? Would he see his master’s smile again? Would he get to sit on Gojyo’s sleeping face again, waking up the lazy red man as he had done every morning for the past thirty years?
As the morning sunlight crept in through the curtains, he flapped his wings and tried to make his way to his master and Gojyo’s bedroom. The door was closed, but he had long learned to operate it. He did not even make it past the coffee table.
When Hakuryuu opened his eyes, he found himself lying on something hard and cold. Two concerned faces were peering down at him. One of them belonged to his master. The other belonged to the bespectacled lady who poked and prodded at him once a year for every year during the past few decades. Sometimes she would hand out some nasty-looking little tablets. Hakkai would pocket them and nod at her instructions. The morsels he would feed Hakuryuu on the following days would invariably leave a bitter aftertaste in Hakuryuu’s mouth.
“Ah, you’re awake, Hakuryuu. Oh, you had me so worried there!” The relief in Hakkai’s voice was obvious. His words made Hakuryuu feel better, despite the painful itch that had returned with his consciousness.
“What’s wrong with him, Doctor Hwang?” Hakkai asked the bespectacled lady.
Ignoring his chitter of protest, Doctor Hwang poked and prodded at Hakuryuu, as she had always done whenever they came to see her. Her grim face turned grimmer as more skin fell away from him. At last, she withdrew her gloved hand and motioned to Hakkai to follow as she marched to her desk.
She disappeared behind a bulky equipment, rectangular and black with cables coming out of it. As she tapped at something, probably another device, a low whir emanated from the bulky equipment, as if she had brought it to life.
“What’s wrong with him, you ask?” There was a hint of sarcasm beneath her otherwise business-like tone. “Based on the patient’s records, I’d say that it’s a miracle that he is even alive today.”
Hakkai’s lips were pursed and his eyes were narrowed in a familiar manner. Hakuryuu had witnessed that look many, many times, usually seconds before Hakkai unleashed a ball of energy that would shatter a bunch of youkai into smithereens. These days, the same look merely meant that Hakuryuu would gain a bedtime companion that night, for Gojyo would unfailingly bring out a pillow and a blanket to the living room and plop his onion-smelling body onto the sofa in front of Hakuryuu’s basket.
“We’ve always taken good care of Hakuryuu,” Hakkai stated flatly. The lines under his eyes softened as he unclenched his fists. “Well, except for this time. I know it is no excuse, but I’ve been quite busy with work and thus did not manage to–”
“Cigarette burns, bullet holes, falling down cliffs, inconsiderate driving.” Doctor Hwang’s clipped voice was expressionless, but it somehow sounded to Hakuryuu as if she was angry at someone on his behalf. “According to his records, these are but a few from the long list of abuses the patient has been subjected to.”
“That is all in the past. We have not used him as a vehicle for the last twenty years.”
Why was Hakkai sounding so remorseful? Hakuryuu would have been delighted to transform into Jeep once more, had his master not forbidden him from doing so. (“It’s for your own good, Hakuryuu.”) That accident in which he had veered off into a lake had been just that – an accident. He had not fallen asleep, despite what Hakkai and Doctor Hwang had claimed.
“Still, such mistreatment will inevitably manifest its effects, even years after it has stopped. Remember, Mr. Cho, that it was only five years ago that his X-rays and MRI scans had come out clean for the first time ever. Hitherto, we’d been finding cigarette butts, condoms and beer-can pull tabs in his innards during his annual check-ups. I hope that his scans will remain clean for the years to come, because at his advanced age, I doubt he would respond well to getting his stomach pumped.”
Was she referring to those awful times when they had forced that nasty tube down his throat? Hakuryuu shuddered. He would do anything not to experience that again. He would even be a little bit nicer to Gojyo and stop pooping in the man’s shoes.
Hakkai sighed. “I did attempt a thorough cleaning of his interior the last time he was in his Jeep form. All right, Doctor Hwang, let’s focus on the issue at hand, shall we? This morning, I found him unconscious on the floor. He must have passed out after waking up. Just as alarmingly, there are these pieces of skin peeling off him–”
A click-clack sound from Doctor Hwang’s desk accompanied Hakkai’s description of Hakuryuu’s woes. It stopped around the same time as Hakkai’s account. The bespectacled lady stood up from her desk and ambled toward a machine, which was spitting out a piece of paper.
She picked up the piece of paper and handed it to Hakkai. “Here.”
“What is this?” He squinted at the printed words. “Not a prescription, from what I can see.”
“It’s an instruction on how to build a humid hide.”
**
Hakuryuu rather liked this new mode of getting around. His leg muscles were not what they used to be. In the olden days, he would think nothing of perching for hours on his master’s shoulder. These days, those muscles would start to cramp after a few minutes of clinging on the piece of cloth draped across Hakkai’s shoulder.
Nestled upon the soft, damp paper towels in the plastic container, he let out a contented purr. He was feeling better already, mere hours after Hakkai had put him in the container.
“There, Hakuryuu. That should help with your shedding problem. Doctor Hwang said it was due to the dry air and your, ah, age,” his master had murmured as he put the lid on the container.
Hakuryuu had not minded the lid, for his master had cut a hole on one side of the container. It was large enough for him to peep his head through and observe the street Hakkai was walking down.
It was a familiar street, the one that led to Gojyo’s tavern. Even from the distance, Hakuryuu could already make up the banners hanging down from its entrance, one for each of the characters that the tavern’s name was composed of.
“Kappa Fried Noodles,” the banners proclaimed in red-and-black cursive characters. As Hakkai and Hakuryuu neared the shop, the banners were swept aside and a tall figure emerged from behind them. Hakuryuu had seen it many times, both from a distance and at a closer range than he would have preferred, but today, it struck him how much the figure had filled out over the years. The waist under the apron had thickened, and there was a hint of a second chin along the once sharp jawline.
Filled out or not, Gojyo had retained that filthy habit of his. Lighting up the cigarette he had plucked from behind his ear, he started to crouch down, only to straighten up again, a hand on his back and a curse on his lips.
“Kyuu!” Hakuryuu flapped his wings in satisfaction. Red man and his back pains.
His joy was somewhat marred by the displeasure in his master’s sigh. “That is not nice, Hakuryuu.”
“Yo, Hakkai.” Gojyo raised his cigarette in greeting. “Go ahead and take a seat. I’ll be there after my break.”
Lazy red man. Indulging in a smoking break before his little tavern had even opened for business!
They went inside, where Hakkai gently set the container on a table.
“What will you have?” Gojyo asked from the entrance, apparently done with his break. “Gojyo’s Special or just plain salted?”
Hakuryuu extended his neck as far out of the hole as he could. “Kyuu!” he cried out desperately.
“Plain salted with chicken, please,” his master replied, to his relief. “You know Hakuryuu does not like the other one. You put too much of everything in your ‘special’. Especially onions and chives.”
“Kyuu,” Hakuryuu tweeted vehemently in agreement. Gojyo’s Special was an abomination, an insult to fried noodles. He had seen it only once, but that one time had been more than enough. The noodles had been barely visible under the heap of vegetables and meat. It had seemed to be the end product of someone ransacking the fridge and throwing everything they had found into the pan.
“Ah, didn’t see him in that little box. What’s the deal? The little dragon too old to sit on your shoulder now?”
Hakuryuu hissed, wishing that the hole was large enough for him to fly out of, so that he could show Gojyo how sharp his claws were.
“Now, now, that’s not nice, Gojyo. You saw him this morning. The humid hide is Doctor Hwang’s idea. It seems to be working, judging by how lively he is.”
“All right, plain salted fried noodles it is then.”
Smoke rose from the flat iron pan on the counter as oil and noodles sizzled in it. Hakuryuu’s stomach rumbled at the inviting aroma as Gojyo threw pieces of meat into the pan and spread them across the noodles with a pair of spatulas.
“There you go,” Gojyo announced, placing the plate of noodles on the table. “Plain salted fried noodles with chicken. Drinks?”
“I’ll have a glass of beer, please,” Hakkai said.
Gojyo’s eyebrows went up. “Are you sure? The doctor ordered you to cut down on the alcohol, didn’t he? Your liver–”
“My liver can take a glass of beer this evening, Gojyo. It’s been a while since I last imbibed.”
“Okay.” Gojyo shrugged. Hakkai always got his way whenever he used that tone of voice. “Just don’t wake me up if your sleep troubles return tonight.”
As Gojyo marched sullenly back to the counter, Hakkai fished out a pair of chopsticks from the holder. They ate in silence, Hakkai slurping the noodles from the plate and Hakuryuu chomping on the pieces of chicken from Hakkai’s chopsticks.
The silence did not last long. Gojyo was soon back at their table, a glass of beer in his hand. “Say, Hakkai.” He set the glass down with a pensive look on his face. “How many guests will we have for the dinner next week?”
“Next week?” Hakkai looked up from his meal. “Ah. My birthday dinner, you mean? Sanzo said he would be free.”
Gojyo plopped himself down into the remaining chair. “Shit.” He pulled a face as he rubbed his back.
“You should be more careful of your back, Gojyo. Have you not been to the chiropractor I told you about the other day?”
“Nah. Been busy. I’ll just hop over to the apothecary’s and get myself some painkillers tomorrow morning. Anyway. So His Holiness’s the only one showing up for dinner next week?”
Hakuryuu let out a disappointed chirp as Hakkai put down his chopsticks, the scrumptious piece of meat clamped between them. So close and yet, so far away. Stupid red man, interrupting Hakuryuu’s feeding with those stupid questions of his.
“Ahah. Are you thinking of Goku?” his master asked.
Hakuryuu’s ears pricked up at the mention of the name. He had missed the boy. No, not a boy anymore, he corrected himself. Goku had not been a boy for a while.
“Yeah.” The look in Gojyo’s eyes was far away. “I wonder if he’ll come back this year. He didn’t turn up for my birthday dinner, that stupid monkey.”
“I did write to him about it. Not about him missing your birthday celebration last year. About the dinner next week, I mean.”
“And?”
Hakkai drummed his fingers on the table. “I’ve not received a reply. Not yet, anyway.”
“Stupid monkey,” Gojyo grumbled. “Upping and running away to join a circus out of the blue, just like that. As if he could not get enough of being on the road. What was he thinking with that banana brain of his?”
The drumming stopped as Hakkai stared sadly at the other man. Hakuryuu mewled. He disliked seeing his master down like this.
“I am sure Goku has his reasons, Gojyo. He is free to do as he wishes with his own life, as we all are these days.”
“Probably got sick of being hit on the head by that stinky monk.”
“He did leave a note, at least.”
Hakuryuu remembered the note, scrawled in the childish squiggles that Goku had never grown out of. He also remembered the look on Sanzo’s face as the monk had ripped up the note into shreds, the gnashing of his teeth almost as loud as the gasps wheezing out of his lungs.
Hakkai and Gojyo sat in silence, probably lost in the same remembrance.
They were rescued from an evening of melancholy by the arrival of the customers. Gojyo went back to the counter, ready for their orders. Soon, oil and noodles sizzled once more in the pan as he raked heaps of vegetables and meat through the noodles with his spatulas.
“Yo!” A youkai with no eyebrows and a long face darkened the door, his hand raised in a nonchalant greeting.
“Yo my ass!” Gojyo shouted through the cloud of smoke from the pan. “If you’re late one more time, I’m gonna take it out of your pay!”
“My bad. Ran into a damsel in distress on my way here. Couldn’t leave her with a bunch of ruffians, could I?”
“The only ruffian I see here is you, Banri! Now get your ass here and give me a hand! Kanzeon’s tits, I’m swarmed with orders!”
**
“There you go.” Sanzo slapped something thick and heavy down on the table, as if it had displeased him. Hakuryuu withdrew hastily into the container as the empty bowls around him clattered from the impact.
“How nice of you, Sanzo,” Hakkai purred. “Thank you for the birthday present.”
“It’s not a present. Just a replacement for the one you’d gone and burned.”
Burned? Hakuryuu had a bad feeling about this. He risked a peek out of the hole. His stomach sank as soon as he saw the words on the dust jacket.
“My, my. The 25th Anniversary Edition of The Travels of Genjo Sanzo.” His master was tracing his fingers over the spine of the book, a reverent look in his eyes. “I will treasure it, Sanzo.”
“Hmmmph. Just don’t burn it again, because I’m not sure there will be a 50th Anniversary Edition.”
“Why, Sanzo? Is your memoir not selling as well as it used to? There I was, thinking of publishing the diary I kept during our days on the road.”
“Heh. More like thinking of correcting my version of things, aren’t you? Go ahead. At least that would stop the kappa’s complaints about me defaming him.”
Hakkai’s face lit up with a smile as he raised his finger. “And start Gojyo complaining about me portraying him in a bad light, you mean.”
“He can write his own book then. If he can remember the names of the hordes of women who’d rejected him, that is.”
Hakkai hid his giggle behind his hand. When he let his hand fall away from his mouth, all traces of a smile had vanished from his face. “My motivation is less about airing dirty laundry than building up a nest egg for my and Gojyo’s old age. My pension when I retire from my job as the headmaster will be far from adequate, and Gojyo can’t keep running the tavern forever, not with his back.”
“We all have our own problems,” Sanzo summarized succinctly as he pulled out a chair and sat upon it. “Not even the kappa can escape the banes of middle age.”
Hakuryuu gave a muted trill. He had to agree with Sanzo. When he had entered their dwelling earlier, the monk had sounded out of breath, as if the short uphill walk from his own abode had been too strenuous for his chubby self. What a far cry from the days when he would nimbly leap out of Jeep and start to shoot at a bunch of youkai with that gun of his!
“Hey guys, don’t talk about me like I’m not in the room, okay?” Looming over Sanzo, Gojyo set down a large steaming bowl on the table with a thump.
Sanzo glared at the strands of thin white noodles and poached eggs and fishballs swimming in the clear broth. “I’m not eating your over-salted cooking, moron.”
“Fine with me. Longevity noodles are meant for the person whose birthday it is anyway.”
Transferring his scowl from the noodles to Gojyo, Sanzo lifted a parcel from his lap, placing it on the table with more care than he had with his memoir. He unwrapped it, revealing a box of pastries.
“Here. Your birthday present, Hakkai.”
“Some present that is!” Gojyo sneered, his hands planted on his hips. “Admit it, stinky monk. You bought those for yourself, didn’t you? You and your sweet tooth!”
“Calm down, Gojyo. I’m sure that Sanzo meant well with this thoughtful gift,” Hakkai said placatingly. Examining the pastries, he remarked, “Hmm. Corn mayo bread and sweet red bean buns. Why, thank you, Sanzo. We’d be glad to eat them on your behalf.”
“Yeah, your waistline will definitely thank us for it,” Gojyo taunted.
Sanzo’s round face reddened as he sharply drew in a breath. He opened his mouth to say something, but his retort never came out. Hakkai clapped once.
“Sit down, Gojyo. Everyone, let’s eat.”
He ladled out the noodles and the broth into the smaller, empty bowls and handed them over to Gojyo and Sanzo. The latter’s brows knitted, his nostrils flaring as the steam from his bowl wafted up his face, but at a stern look from Hakkai, he obediently brought a spoon of broth to his lips.
As Hakkai was about to take a sip of broth from his own spoon, he sighed at the remaining empty bowl. Hakuryuu rubbed his forehead against his master’s hand and sniffed. He was rewarded by an absent-minded pat on the head.
“Well, I’m sure he’ll turn up.” The cheerfulness in Hakkai’s voice was obviously forced. Hakuryuu gave another sad mewl.
“Oh, I’m sure he will, Hakkai. When has the stupid monkey ever turned down food?” Gojyo said consolingly, his tone nonchalant, but Hakuryuu detected a smidgen of despondency in his smirk.
Sanzo snorted. “Heh. Don’t bother saving the food for him. It’ll be his own fault for being late.”
“Ahahaha. You are right, Sanzo. Everyone, please eat up while the food is still hot.”
And so they did. Hakuryuu munched on a fishball with relish, his hunger having overtaken his concern for his master’s disappointment at Goku’s absence. The subdued mood discouraged any exchange of words between Sanzo and Gojyo, which would invariably culminate into a squabble. Hakuryuu even felt bad for them, but at least he got to enjoy his meal in peace and quiet, a rare luxury with those two in the same room.
Sadly, the peace and quiet did not last long.
**
“Celebrating your birthday without inviting me? How heartless of you, Tenp–, no, Cho Hakkai.”
Gasps and curses resounded around the table, the former from Hakkai and Gojyo, the latter from Sanzo. As for Hakuryuu, he almost grilled the fishball in his mouth. Standing before them, in all of hir glory, was the goddess, the one who had saved Sanzo’s life many years ago.
A thinly mustached man with gray hair and two cream-colored flaps like a pair of rabbit ears atop his head scurried in after her, muttering, “Goddess, you should use the door like everyone else.”
“I am not everyone else, Jiroushin,” Kanzeon Bosatsu declared, thumping hir hand on hir ample bosom. It was as skimpily clad as Hakuryuu had remembered, the translucent fabric stretched across it leaving nothing to imagination.
“What do you want, harridan?” Sanzo growled.
“Harridan?” Kanzeon Bosatsu’s voice was filled with contempt as hir gaze raked over the monk. “You’ve got nerves, calling me that.”
Chewing the fishball and swallowing it with a gulp, Hakuryuu had to admit that se had a point. Se looked as youthful as se had more than thirty years ago, while Sanzo was now nearly as gray as Jiroushin.
“Whatever. State your business and be gone.”
Se threw hir head back, letting out a bark of laughter. “Still as impudent as ever, Genjo Sanzo. Well, if you have not repeatedly ignored the summons from the Three Aspects, I wouldn’t be intruding on your little celebration.”
The lines between the monk’s brows deepened and his heavy jowls quivered as he set down his chopsticks.
“Why should I give a shit about those floating heads? I’ve got no business with you gods anymore. I’m no longer the abbot of Keiun Temple, in case you have not heard.”
“Oh, yes, I have. They fired you for ignoring their orders to leave Houtou Castle alone.”
Sanzo shrugged. “I’d have resigned anyway. I have no further need for those talking heads. The Seiten Sutra is in my possession, and I managed to track down my master’s murderers on our way back to Chang’an. So you see, harridan, there’s no reason why I have to be at your beck and call anymore.”
“Really?” Bearing down on the monk, Kanzeon Bosatsu slammed a hand down on the table, nearly upsetting Sanzo’s bowl. The muscles on hir arm tightened as se tilted hir head to one side, a merciless gleam in hir eye.
“So you’re content to rest on your laurels, all the while claiming the credits for stopping the Minus Wave. Heh.”
“What do you mean?” Sanzo sputtered.
The goddess directed a withering scowl at Sanzo’s memoir, which Hakkai had placed on the coffee table before they had started to eat.
Following her gaze, Sanzo said tonelessly, “I lost my job and the credit card. Someone–,” he paused to glance at Hakkai, “told me that writing could be a lucrative undertaking. The rest is history.”
“History, you say? Well, it’s still to early for victory, I tell you.”
“What do you mean?” Sanzo repeated. “Stop talking in riddles and get to the point, harridan.”
Kanzeon Bosatsu folded hir arms. “History is still happening. Nataku has gone missing, and the seals he placed on Gyumaoh and his concubine are weakening. Someone must find him before those seals break.”
“Well, go find someone else for the job,” Gojyo interjected. “We’re done cleaning up your mess.”
“I’m afraid Gojyo is right,” Hakkai said. “We’ve spent the best years of our lives on the mission from the Three Aspects, which I gather originated from you. More importantly, surely you can see that we are past our peak. I don’t think we’ll survive yet another mission.”
“There you have it, harridan. We’re just a bunch of geezers living out the rest of our lives in peace. Or trying to.” Sanzo mirrored hir posture, folding his own arms. “Go bother someone else.”
“Kyuu!” Hakuryuu chirruped in agreement.
**
For the first time since se had appeared in Hakkai and Gojyo’s dwelling, the goddess laid her eyes upon Hakuryuu. A glint of pity flashed in those violet eyes. It was soon gone, replaced by a mischievous one.
“Ah, what’s this? Not feeling well, are you, Gouj–, I mean, little one?” se cooed, fingering the lotus-shaped, gold-framed locket at her chest.
“Hmm. I might have just the thing for you.” Se popped the locket open and plucked out a little red stone from it. No larger than the tip of her little finger, it sparkled under the light from the lamp above the dining table.
His curiosity awakened, Hakuryuu stretched his neck as far out of the hole of his container as he could. What was the little thing? It looked like a precious stone. A ruby, perhaps? As se brought it before his snout, he caught a whiff of a sweet, tantalizing aroma. His nostrils flared. Ooh, not a ruby then. A candy. Yes, a delicious candy.
“No, Hakuryuu!”
Ignoring his master’s frantic shout, Hakuryuu gobbled up the goddess’s offering. He chomped down on it, expecting a crunch that would release sweetness into his mouth. Instead, he found himself biting into something soft and bitter.
It tasted awful. He tried to open his mouth to spit it out, but Kanzeon Bosatsu’s powerful hand was on him, clamping down his snout.
“Uh-uh. No wasting a good elixir, you naughty thing. Now, be a good boy and swallow.”
More from shock than obedience, Hakuryuu did exactly that. He whined, dreading the belly cramps that would surely follow such an awful morsel. What was that thing? How could it have tasted so ghastly when it had smelled so good? Had the goddess poisoned him for his impudence? To his relief, instead of rolling in agony on his stomach, he found his whole being relaxing. He flexed his wings and stretched his legs, amazed by the smoothness of his movements and the lack of complaints from his joints, something he had not experienced for a long, long time.
He started to hop on his legs and flap his wings.
“Hakuryuu! Are you all right?” His master had elbowed Kanzeon Bosatsu aside, to Jiroushin’s scandalized consternation, in order to check on him.
“Kyuu!” Hakuryuu had meant to reassure Hakkai with that exclamation, but it had only served to distress his master further. Ripping the lid off the container, Hakkai reached inside to grab Hakuryuu, only to have his hands slapped away by Hakuryuu’s fluttering wings.
His wings were going faster and faster now. For the first time since Hakkai had put him in it, the container felt cramped. He wanted to be free, or at least be somewhere spacious enough for a mid-air somersault. Ooh, the lightness. He had not felt so weightless in years.
He ignored the gasps around him as he burst out of the container, ascending to the ceiling, where he hovered for a while, making a few turns around the lamp. The gasps morphed into horrified screams as he plummeted toward the table and executed a sharp upswing at the last minute.
“Hey! What was that for, you crazy little dragon?” Gojyo’s irate shout was far behind Hakuryuu, for he was now speeding past the front door, which Jiroushin had left ajar.
In the garden, Hakuryuu chose a landing spot far enough from Hakkai’s carefully cultivated patch of flowers. No point making his master angrier with him than he was going to be. For tonight, after following it to the letter for the past twenty years, Hakuryuu was going to ignore Hakkai’s order, the one that prohibited him from transforming into Jeep again.
“Kyuu!” he squealed gleefully, and transformed.
“Kyuu?” His next cry was less triumphant and rather puzzled. His center of gravity felt higher than he had remembered from his Jeep days. He turned on his headlights. Yes, there was no mistake about it. He was taller now. And wider, too. Much, much wider.
“Fuck.”
“Oh my.”
“Blow me.”
The collective comments from behind him caused him to turn around abruptly. Or rather, to execute a hasty three-point turn, so that he could see his master and the others. Perhaps their facial expressions would provide more clue to his current appearance. Though what he had experienced so far had reassured him that he was still some sort of a four-wheeled vehicle, albeit of a larger size and weight than Jeep had been.
“Kyuu?” he posed his question to the men gaping at him from the door.
“You appear to be a camper now, Hakuryuu,” Hakkai told him, pride and uncertainty in his gentle voice.
A camper! Hakuryuu’s heart sang. No wonder it had felt so good, despite the differences that had initially puzzled him. He had always wanted to be a camper. Oh, to have a roof over one’s head and – he activated the visual sensors he had just realized that he now possessed – a kitchen and a coffee-maker inside one! Hakkai would be so delighted!
“Is this your doing, harridan?” Sanzo scowled at Kanzeon Bosatsu.
“Who, me?” The goddess shrugged, an evil grin on her sculpted face. “I just gave him a snack.”
“Heheh.” Gojyo’s chuckle was as lascivious as his wink. “Maybe we’ll soon find out how much more comfy his new inside is compared to his old backseat, eh, Hakkai?”
Hakkai brushed off his elbow, ignoring him and looking instead at the goddess. “How do we know if this, uh, change is not deleterious to his health?”
“Don’t worry,” se reassured him. “He’s in his best shape ever. Aren’t you, little one?”
“Kyuu!” Hakuryuu barked emphatically.
“There you go.” The goddess placed hir hands on hir hips and lifted hir chin imperiously. “A vehicle fit for a bunch of geezers. Soft pillows. Sofa beds. Built-in shower and toilet. No more excuses. Now go find Nataku.”
“Like I’m going to,” Sanzo grumbled, but his glare was halfhearted.
Se beamed at him. “I’m sure the Three Aspects will be glad to provide you with a new credit card.”
“Hmmph.”
“A platinum card.”
Sanzo’s glare softened. “Oh?”
Hir smile widened into a wolfish grin. “You heard me.”
“Got a tavern to run, man,” Gojyo sighed, shaking his head, but it was hard to miss the lustful look in his eyes as he leered at Hakuryuu.
“Well, I don’t like the thought of Goku coming back to this town, only to find that we’re gone.” Hakkai sounded doubtful, although he was already clenching and unclenching his hands, as if he was imagining them on the steering wheel.
“Ah, that.” Kanzeon Bosatsu’s grin was softer this time. “Don’t worry about the boy. Ah, no, not a boy anymore, I see.”
Se lifted a well-manicured finger and pointed somewhere behind Hakuryuu. He was about to perform another three-point turn when he recalled that he was now equipped with a rear visual sensor. Turning it on, he saw a distant figure hurrying in their direction.
He activated the zooming function and saw a fine-looking young man, clad in a short-sleeved shirt and a pair of cut-offs. The young man was still half a head shorter than Hakkai but nearly as tall as Sanzo, the muscles in his bare legs pumping as he jogged toward them.
“Well, I guess we’d better leave them to their reunion. Let’s go, Jiroushin.”
Hakuryuu returned his attention to the goddess. Before he could thank hir, se snapped hir fingers, and was gone in a flash.
“How many times have I told hir not to do that in full view of the mortals,” Jiroushin muttered, his brows furrowed with disapproval. He raised his hand, presumably to snap his fingers as well, before putting it down again, as if he had just remembered something.
“By the way,” he said to Sanzo, eyeing the top of the monk’s head and patting his own hair, which was still abundant despite its grayness, “been wanting to tell you this: I’ve got something that’d work better than that comb-over of yours. If you’re interested–”
“Go away. Die,” Sanzo snarled.
“Okay.” Jiroushin shrugged. He snapped his fingers and like his mistress, was gone in the night.
“Sanzo!” Goku waved, close enough by now for Hakuryuu to see him without having to zoom the lens of his visual sensor. “Hakkai! Gojyo! Sorry for being late!”