thenearshore | [open] the wheel is come full circle

Entry tags:

[open] the wheel is come full circle

Who: Konzen and open
What: Flailing with a pole-spear thingie; being a worried papa; getting help from an assassin; face-to-face with karma
When: April 11 (unless otherwise indicated)
Where: A park in the Far Shore; somewhere in front of Elsa's place; a vending machine
Warnings: n/a (except maybe cussing? This is Konzen after all)

Prose always welcome! Will match format. :)

[open] Failing/flailing

[ So the rules of this heaven are just as arbitrary and idiotic as the heaven that Konzen knows. That should come to no surprise. This whole ayakashi business is a lot of nonsense if you asked him. These eyeball monsters are practically everywhere, and yet a god or shinki alone is powerless against them. He always knew that divinity meant shit, but this was just rubbish. It meant being pinned down inside a school cafeteria snapping and arguing with Tenpou and Kenren while getting clobbered by ayakashi snot because three gods (two of whom were actual accomplished military officers) could do jack shit against it without their shinki.

This is the reason why Konzen is here today, in this small park on the Far Shore. He's brought his shinki Haru with him so he can figure things out on his own. Goku might also be his shinki now, but he knows that he can't really bother him very much. It's not safe to be around him. He furrows his brow a little at the thought, but pushes it to the back of his mind. ]

Miki.

[ The eerily silent young man beside him nods and disappears in a flash of light. In Konzen's hand is a naginata, made with a light but sturdy wood pole with red tassels and a curved blade on one end. It feels rather clumsy in his hand. He's never really handled such a weapon before. Or any weapon, for that matter. He stares down at it for a moment, wondering what to do next. Maybe he should have borrowed some How-To books from Tenpou's library before coming out here. ]

[open] Not suspicious at all

[ He feels a stabbing pain in the back of his neck. There is something else too, a heavy and anxious feeling that he can't quite wrap his head around. It makes him restless and upset. It keeps him up all night, pacing. He just knows something is wrong.

Goku.

What is happening to him? Konzen wants to rush over and see him, to check in on him. And yet, he knows that his very presence could trigger something bad. Make this cluster of dark emotions even worse. Maybe he'd known before he named Goku that this might happen. He just never realized how hard it would be. He feels so powerless again, and the fact that he might even be part of the problem just makes it that much more painful.

Nevertheless, he can't just sit around doing nothing.

And so he finds himself lurking about the front (or thereabouts) of Menrva's temple, not looking weird at all, of course not. He's hoping to maybe catch a glimpse of Goku without making himself too obvious...just to know that he's okay. ]

[closed: Omi] April 12: Hot cans of what

[ They call it 'the near shore,' which Konzen thinks must be this world's equivalent of Down Below. The human realm, that place beyond the Dimension Gate where they were all headed in their great escape. Of course, it never happened. They had said that the cherry blossoms bloom differently there compared to heaven. Something about being so close to death that they try that much harder to look alive. It sounded like philosophical BS, but somehow it made sense to him back then.

It feels strange, how he can just will himself to that realm now and find himself there, among the humans and the famous cherry blossoms (though they've mostly turned already by now). Tenpou used to come here a lot, bringing back strange knickknacks to add to his collection. Konzen walks around, awed by the sheer magnitude of things all around him. Buildings that soar high above his head. Vehicles that beep and move across massive boulevards. And the people! Konzen has never seen so many in his life. It's overwhelming.

He finally escapes into a smaller side street to take a breather. And hopefully grab something to drink. He finds himself in front of a large container known as a 'vending machine.' He's seen enough of these around to know that they dispense beverages when you insert coins in them. He has a little bit of money, from what he found lying around Helios's house. (Yeah he helped himself to it, whatever). He's not quite sure which ones he's supposed to use, though. He knits his brow together and pushes the coins around in his palm. ]

[closed: Sanzo] April 13: I am not you

[ There's a small and secluded area of the park near Helios's house that Konzen has come to like. It's nicely shaded by a circle of trees, and it's an outdoor space that doesn't catch a lot of people's eyes as they're passing through the park. He finds himself going there in recent days to practice his naginata and to just get out of the house every once in a while.

And maybe the place reminds him of that one spot in heaven where they all had sake under the cherry blossoms. Just a little bit. He's not sentimental at all.

He heads toward there now, his shinki in hand and a bottle of water in the other. He's dressed casually, a basic pair of slacks and a button down shirt, with comfortable shoes for moving around in. He pauses suddenly when he hears a voice. It sounds weirdly familiar. He frowns.

Him.

Konzen almost turns right around. But it grates him a little bit to feel like he should have to retreat. Besides, much as he hates to admit it, the man isn't a complete stranger. In fact, he's probably much more than that. Maybe he can't avoid him forever. Still…he's not fond of being shot at, so he makes sure to not sneak up on the maniac. His footsteps should be obvious to anyone, but especially to someone with a hair-trigger like Sanzo. He pushes some leaves out of his way and steps into the clearing. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

What? Now he's trying to be helpful? Konzen makes a humph under his breath but gives the new grip a try. It feels a little awkward, but the staff seems to have a more room to shift positions, somehow.

Konzen pauses for a second and casts a curious gaze at him.

"Have you used one of these before?"

Edited 2016-08-09 22:31 (UTC)

"Not that in particular."

He gets to his feet again, brushing off his pants, and comes over to stand just to the right of the naginata's tip. The notebook remains on the ground like a marker.

He's a few inches shorter; if it were held in a natural grip and stabbed forward, the blade could go right through his ribs. He slides his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. His cigarette is burning down to the filter.

"Things like this were too repetitive when I was younger. I guess for some people it's a form of meditation, though." He nudges the blade. "Why don't you try switching around me? Pretend I'm some obstacle." (Around is only one way to get past obstacles, of course, and it's not the Genjo Sanzo way.)

What the man means by 'repetitive,' Konzen is not sure. Does he mean you have to learn how to maneuver it a certain way by practicing the motion over and over? Wouldn't that apply to all weapons, to an extent? His confusion deepens further when the guy gets up and stands there, practically daring him to make an offensive move.

Konzen frowns and repositions his grip.

"Nothing meditative about stabbing someone," he says dryly. Much as this man might be odd and confusing, he doesn't really want to poke him with a blade. Nevertheless, he pulls the naginata close and shifts his grip to arch around the 'obstacle' and over the other side.

It could happen: he left the sutra at his temple, too far away to help him, stuffed in the back of a drawer in his bedroom. In theory, he could die right now. The ghost of Genjo Sanzo's memories could surface through the medium of his doppelgänger's face and stop fucking around on the next pass, just go for the throat. Would he really die? What would it be like, to die as a god? Would they replace him? They'd replaced Mahakala, if he'd ever truly existed.

"You're doing fine so far; I'm not dead." More or less. He drops his cigarette in the grass and grinds it out under his toe. "Have you talked to any of the local gods yet?"

Stomping out a cigarette in the grass bothers Konzen slightly, but he doesn't remark upon it. (He might have if this were his yard, though). And he'd be surprised if he knew that the man was actually contemplating even the likelihood of death right now. Konzen bears no hostile intent, whatever his furrowing brow might suggest.

He pulls back on the naginata, poised for the next strike.

"Local gods? Hn. Like you? Or the original ones?"

What else do you call them? Konzen was originally a god too, after all. Just not from this pantheon.

He's waiting for it, unworried, hands in his pockets again.

"Original." He says it like a punchline. "I don't know if I'd call them that, but they were here before the rest of us, at least. There are quite a few of them. Well—" he tilts his head, conceding a point to himself— "some of the local pantheon are replacements. You have to watch out for that. Those won't be able to help you."

Edited 2016-08-12 03:29 (UTC)

The naginata swings over to the other side again. Konzen can see why this man told him to grip it this way. It certainly helps in changing its position, making the movements a little more fluid.

He eyes the man with a quirk of his brow. Does this man know what Konzen would find helpful? He tries to think back to what they spoke about on his first day here. It was a vexing encounter, as he recalls.

"What do you know of it? Have you actually found any that have been here longer?"

Each time the blade sweeps past him it's dangerously close—but it would still take an accident; Ukoku moving, or his diligent pupil losing his concentration.

He glances off at something at the edge of the park. "Just by inference. I don't have any specific names—"

The blade swings over his head and Ukoku stumbles back a millisecond later, blinking, his hand flying up to his forehead. When he pulls it away, scrutinizing his fingers, there's a streak of bright blood over his eyebrow.

He's being careful, of course. The blade is sharp and Konzen is quite new at swinging it around.

And so when he actually realizes that he nicked the guy on the forehead, Konzen pulls back with a look of surprise and horror.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

He pats down his pockets and finds a handkerchief and offers it.

He doesn't respond immediately: he's just staring at his hand, as if in shock. The cut itself is long and deep enough that blood trickles down toward his eye. This is what makes him move, finally, to take his glasses off and reach for the handkerchief.

"Thank you. There's nothing to apologize for; it's my fault for talking about something important to you while you were concentrating." He dabs at his brow, frowning a little. "Do you mind if I ask why it's so important? I haven't met anyone else who's as interested as you are."

"Stop talking. You should sit, here." Konzen nods to a nearby bench between the trees.

This most likely happened because he's crap at this. Besides, whatever the guy was talking about, it was in response to a question that Konzen had asked. Either way, it's his fault. He can be pretty fierce with a little adrenalin and necessity, but it's obvious that Konzen is no fighter under normal circumstances.

"Haru."

His naginata disappears, changing into a young man beside Konzen. The shinki bows briefly at the bleeding guy.

"Get some bandages and antiseptic," he says. Haru nods and hurries off in the direction of the temple of Helios. Whether gods even need antiseptic is not really relevant. It's better to make sure.

Edited 2016-08-16 00:39 (UTC)

Ukoku sits, just holding the handkerchief above his eye. "Really, I'm sure it's fine," he says, even as he takes the cloth away, turns it over—that side is mottled with red—and presses it against the cut again. "I hate to distract you."

He pauses, looking over his shoulder at Haru's retreating figure. "He's very quiet. Mine's the same way." There's a note of pity in it, mild but appreciable.

As Haru goes to fetch the things, Konzen stands there a little awkwardly with his arms crossed over his chest, watching the guy turn the bloody handkerchief over. Head wounds bleed a lot. Konzen remembers this acutely.

He snorts in response to the first remark. Don't be stupid, it seems to suggest. What's Konzen going to do? Let the guy bleed all over the place while he continues to practice? But his expression sobers a bit when he mentions Haru.

Konzen sighs and looks away, toward the trees where the kid disappeared to.

"There's something wrong with them," he says. He's not sure what, but he knows it to be true.

"I've wondered about that. Other shinki are clearly autonomous, but some of them just do what they're told. No thoughts, no opinions, no individual will. It seems to me that gods can be anyone before they become gods, but there may be something that makes only some souls useful as shinki."

He pauses for effect.

"It's just a theory, but perhaps erasing an unsuitable soul's personality makes them good enough for at least a vessel form."

Some souls might only be useful as shinki? That gives Konzen pause. What does that even mean? That the souls are somehow damaged? ...though maybe that makes some sense, in light of some shinki that Konzen knows.

"I don't know."

He turns back to look at the guy, frowning.

"All beings deserve a new life. I don't think theirs really qualifies."

What sort of life do you have, without that which makes you yourself? No matter what you've done in a past life, surely you should be given the chance at redemption and Nirvana.

"Well, I doubt whoever assigns them is really interested. My sense of this is that they're stockpiling weapons, 'gods' included."

He switches hands on the cloth and slouches, resting his head against the back of the bench. His fingers come away coppery.

"Have you looked into who you're supposed to be representing?"

Stockpiling weapons, like for a war. That's what she'd called it. Maybe she is right.

Only this time, it's not just Nataku they're trying to control for the purpose of battle.

"Maybe you're right," he says with a touch of bitterness in his voice. He knows all about this. Same old shit all over again.

"Helios? No, not really. He didn't leave much behind in his temple. Why?"

"Most of these new gods, replacement gods, whatever you want to call them," he waves his bloody fingers vaguely, "aren't really worshiped in Japan, right? Some of them haven't had followings for hundreds of years. Anywhere. Who benefits from reincarnating a god nobody prays to?"

To be sure, this is not something Konzen knows much about. There are many gods where Konzen is from, and no one's existence depended upon any mortal's beliefs. Every consciousness had its own place in the world. It doesn't matter if you can't see it, it is there.

And you certainly can't simply be 'replaced' by another.

"Whatever it is, it's not anything good."

The leaves rustle as Haru steps back into the clearing, holding items in his hands.

Konen nods and takes the stuff from him and sits on the bench next to the guy (whose name he still doesn't know). He pulls out a gauze and pours antiseptic on it.

"This might sting a little," he says. And without waiting for an answer, he dabs away at the cut with surprisingly practiced hands. (Monkey business sometimes led to a lot of scrapes and bruises).

"It's fine." Ukoku pushes his hair out of the way (and winces a little at the antiseptic, a conscious effort).

"You've probably noticed that the gods from Japan are calling all the shots, right? There is no hundred-year-old Helios, or thousand-year-old Mahakala. If it's from outside of their pantheon, whichever god it is, they're missing. Or dead, maybe. Or one of us. If you do talk to them about anything, I think it'd be best to pretend you're not that interested. For your health, you know?"

The cut isn't so deep that it'll require stitches. Konzen is glad for that, at least. He finishes cleaning the wound and then puts a bandage over it.

"For my health?"

Konzen snorts at that. He's been pulled back from the dead, ripped violently from samsara to wander in this strange existence. He's not sure what could be worse.

"What do you think they'll do?"

He lets his hair fall in his eyes again. Both his hands are bloody, now, but it seems not to bother him.

"Who knows? Send you back where you came from, maybe, or just get rid of you permanently, like the gods who were supposed to be here."

Konzen takes another piece of gauze and pours some water from his bottle onto it before handing it the guy to wipe his bloody fingers.

"That can't be right," he says with frown. It is the form you take that can't be seen that will always be, isn't it? "You can't just be wiped from all existence."

And yet...Tenpou says they now exist only in the minds of the mortals. The world makes little sense, anymore.

He takes the gauze without thanks.

"Well, maybe not, but that's not necessarily how they do it, right? Maybe they moved the old gods somewhere; kicked them down there to live and die like normal people. I don't know." He turns his hand over in the light. It's passable, but there's still a coppery tinge under his nails and around his knuckles. "But they're doing something."

Gods being kicked out of heaven, weirdly enough, is something Konzen knows a thing or two about. And as it turns out, he might have been set down to live and die a mortal life, too. Not that he wants to believe that his karma is that bad.

"The same old bullshit," he mutters under his breath.

[open] the wheel is come full circle

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