thenearshore | [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

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.

Ukoku looks at him for a few seconds, brow furrowed; starts to say something, stops himself, and hesitates again, as if trying to decide whether he should already understand.

"Referring to what?" He puts his glasses back on, finally (and they leave a conspicuous red smudge on the bridge of his nose).

The blood stain on the glasses bothers Konzen a little. If this were Tenpou, he might make him wipe them clean, but it's not.

"Heaven. The higher ups," he says with a snort. People who sit above others always think they can do whatever they want. Shove off the dirty act of killing to a so-called "War Prince" who is nothing more than a child. Turn a blind eye when bastards like Litouten conjure up monsters in the basement.

After a second he takes them off, frowning at the blood, and scrubs the gauze over it anyway, but it's still another conspicuous pause.

"You're familiar with Heaven's higher ups?" He slides his glasses back on with a theatrical dubious look, like maybe he misheard.

"Give me those," he finally says with a grunt of frustration, holding out his hand. Konzen has cleaned glass things before, he knows how.

For a moment, distracted from the conversation about the bastards in charge because of blood smudged glasses.

Ukoku laughs, bashful (which is not an easy thing to fake), and hands them over. "Sorry. It didn't seem this bad! I did intend to help, when I first came over here," he adds, pressing the back of his hand against the bridge of his nose and checking it. "I should probably just go take a bath, or something."

With a clean handkerchief and a splash of holy water from his bottle, Konzen carefully wipes the glasses clean, blood smears and other smudges besides. He holds them up to the sunlight to make sure he got everything.

"You tried," he says with a snort as he hands him back the glasses.

And by that he means, you don't have to apologize, dumbass.

"Thank you." He takes them back, gives them a cursory inspection, and slides them back on. "I feel a little ridiculous now. Good luck with your practice." He stands and looks around, as if to get his bearings. "Oh—" he pauses, tossing the balled-up gauze from hand to hand— "if you happen to find out anything else about the shinki, I'd be interested. I'm going to look into it, I think."

"...all right."

Konzen still doesn't know anything about this guy, but somehow he gets the feeling he's a very cerebral sort. (And no, it's not because he dresses vaguely like Tenpou). In any case, it'll be good to have someone else to talk to about the goings on in this so-called heaven.

Now would probably be an ideal time to finally get his name, but at this point they're playing a game of who's-going-to-ask-first, and not losing is, for the moment, more entertaining.

Besides, his name is Helios. That's worthwhile. Ukoku lifts his hand in a careless wave, heading toward the trees. The notebook is still half-hidden in the grass in the opposite direction, but that's all right—there's a reason he got a red one.

[open] the wheel is come full circle

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