This series is really difficult to get right. All comments on characterization solicited and appreciated.
Hoozuki pads across the wooden portico, mind already awhirl with the day's task list. He needs to make another inspection of Mortal Hell. Apparently Okoh-san's Pervy Madams are not having the desired effect on the sinners they've been assigned to castigate. Then there's the matter of next year's Mental Health Games. True, this year's games concluded only last week, but it never hurts to be prepared. Finally, he must travel once again to Shangri-La in order to procure more kintan (and hopefully beat the living shit out of that so-called Beast of Good Fortune).
I need a vacation, Hoozuki laments mentally, maybe the Galapagos Islands…
He's lost in thoughts of komodo dragons and giant tortoises when he hears the distinctive nasal voice of Nasubi rounding the corner.
"Hoozuki-sama!" the young hellion exclaims, "I finished the plans for the East Wall mural!" Nasubi holds his sketch for the Chief of Staff's scrutiny.
Hoozuki nods his approval. "Very well. I will contact the Procurement Office and secure the necessary supplies."
Nasubi gaily skitters away, hips sashaying to a tune only he can hear. Hell's number two demon turns towards Court when he notices something….well, off about his Goldfish Grass. He cants his head and attempts to place his finger on it, but after a few minutes of intense staring, Hoozuki is forced to conclude that perhaps his tiredness is affecting his perception.
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The next day, it's Lord Enma himself who accosts Hoozuki on his way to see to the day's errands. The administrator of divine justice looks unusually worried. "Hoozuki-kun," he says, wringing his hands nervously.
"Yes?" The oni's eyes glint in warning.
"Satan-sama has rescinded our diplomatic agreement," the great king cries desperately. "He says that you disrespected his Chief of Staff, Lord Beelzebub."
Hoozuki would smile, if ever he smiled. Instead, he recalls fondly his game of golf with Lord Beelzebub, and the resultant fountain of blood that gushed from the other demon's nose. "Ah, I will see that the matter is cleared up forthwith," he says with a respectful bow. Indeed, we will never have such a—misunderstanding—again.
"Thank you," Enma sighs in relief. He looks out over to portico to the small field of Goldfish Grass beyond. Thick brows furrow for a moment. "Do they look….different today?"
Both men cock their heads and regard the plants in question. After several minutes of silence, each goes his separate way, unable to articulate what it is that is so troublesome about Hoozuki's pets.
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It's on the fifth day that Hoozuki finally figures it out. He's enjoying a well-earned break. Lithe frame leaning against the fence, he gazes at his beloved goldfish while plumes of purple smoke curl from the end of his pipe.
An officious-looking demon wielding a scroll interrupts. "Hoozuki-sama," he says, "Heaven needs more peach-pickers in Shangri-La."
The senior demon waves a dismissive hand, eyes still trained on the plants before him. "Heaven is not my problem." And then slate grey orbs narrow in murderous malice as the realization strikes. There are some missing.
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"He's going to grind you into mincemeat when he finds out," Momotoro states simply.
In the corner of the Bureau of Traditional Chinese Medicine, Hakutaku is seated on a stool, legs swinging back and forth merrily as he hums a jaunty melody. He leans forward, resting his chin in his palm, mouth split into a toothy grin. "If he finds out. That's a huge if." A half dozen Goldfish Grass plants are arranged atop the work table, swaying eerily in a nonexistent breeze. Hakutaku mimics the soundless opening-and-closing of their mouths and titters in sheer elation. "I finally found his weakness."
"You're playing a dangerous game."
The Mythical Beast of Good Fortune chuckles. "I'll threaten to kill them if Hoozuki retaliates. I doubt he'll want to risk his precious pets. They're my hostages, after all."
Momotoro continues sweeping the floor, but Hakutaku does not miss what he mutters under his breath: "Keyser Söze**."
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"Please be seated," Hoozuki says politely, gesturing to the chair in front of Enma's desk. "I called you here today to commend you on your continued excellence."
Mustard blushes sheepishly, shifting from toe to toe. When she speaks, it's in a soft squeak. "I try to show my dedication every single day."
"And it's evident," the Chief of Staff affirms. "To demonstrate our appreciation, I have arranged for your promotion."
"Promotion?" the rabbit queries. "But I like where I am."
Hoozuki sighs in defeat. He then adopts his most official demeanor (which is saying something, considering that he's the very picture of professional even when relaxing). "To be perfectly honest, Mustard-san, there is a delicate matter with which I need your expert assistance. Would you be so kind as to lend it?"
Mustard nods demurely. "I live to serve."
"You see, Shangri-La is experiencing a labor shortage, and while I would never deign to lend out someone of your talents under ordinary circumstances, I'm told that the proprietor, a Chinese Mythical Creature going by the name of Hakutaku is….well, a sly badger."
And Hoozuki permits himself a smirk as Mustard's eyes turn scarlet.
** Keyser Söze is the (in)famous villain in the 'The Usual Suspects'. Keyser's family was taken hostage by his enemies. Rather than allow them to be used as leverage, he killed them himself.
AN on 'The Wheel': In a tarot reading, the Wheel card represents the wheel of cause and consequence turning in one's life. Doubtless, Hakutaku feels its machinations in his life.