Chapter 1:
It was on times like these when he just wished to escape from the overworld, its crystalline perfection and immaculately refined elegance. It was on times like these when he would simply be drawn to the world below out of mere curiosity and a strange desire to steep himself in elemental imperfection. So then it would be on times like these when Tenpou, field marshal of the celestial army, would find himself without company, without books, without superiors, without subordinates, without rank, and without bureaucratic tangles and spider web conspiracies. Nothing but himself and a humid, earthly summer in a land where emerald green mountains rose magestically to the sky, where the sparkling mist hung low embracing those sleeping giants. Nothing but Tenpou and a steady fall of rain.
Nobody would have noticed the solitary figure propped up on a smooth, flat stone at the top of a hill, looking over the valley below as if one of the silent guardian spirits so worshipped at the time. In fact, even if any passing villager had bothered to actually look, his or her eyes would have only fallen upon the image of a solemn wolf whose silver form wavered against the fiery strokes of light that painted the late afternoon sky. A disguised god seeking a momentary respite from heaven, though it never really was his heaven. And so Tenpou sat, observing without pondering the peculiar double presence of a harsh sun and a gentle rainfall.
Once in a blue moon he would find among his vast collection of scrolls and books, one or two poems written by well bred generals of a ruling class not about battle strategy and blood, but the simple beauty of the land they fought to protect. And inevitably, his calculating eyes would suddenly stumble upon praises of the rain. Life giver. Food giver. Tears of angels that washed away the blood strewn upon the torn battlefield. A celestial cleansing. But the most ironic, to him at least, was that so many civilizations of this world considered this purely earthly phenomenon to be a gift from the gods. It never even rained in heaven.
But here they certainly do need it. Thought Tenpou casually as he noted the sticky heat and shrugged out of his protocol black uniform jacket, the cool drops of water easily penetrating the silken fabric of the shirt underneath. They beaded on his bangs and lashes, ran down his face in steady rivulets- a tender, natural caress.
Tenpou came to this very spot often to seek the sensations that heaven could never provide in its perpetually pristine snow globe utopia. Up there, it felt too untainted. Uncolored. The soul was too restrained, strictly inhibited and locked in pearly cases with golden keys. A marble fountain whose watery surface had frozen over. And forever it shall remain unless someone powerful enough decides to shatter it all. Perhaps it would be for the better- to force a bit of animation onto a stagnant Shangri la.
So until the ice cracked, fleeting instants on earth would be enough to keep him from turning into just another sculpture in that glassy house of cards. The air here felt almost surged with electric energy. Deliciously impure. A drug to treat the senses. Everything just seemed to breathe and radiate a life of its own. Everything felt deep and heady. Everything rich and spicy. Everything sensual and sultry. Everything feeding on raw emotion and passion. Everything hissed and whispered. And Tenpou would just sit and listen for small eternities...but apparently never considered, or even cared that a certain general might be looking for him.
***
"Bastard!" growled Kenren to himself as he strayed away from the polite mingling of military officers and nobles that congregated in the main dining room of the palace.
Bullshit politicians. Bullshit politics. Bullshit conspiracies. "And damn that Tenpou for wussing out of it!" The only redeeming feature of those insufferable hours was the good wine. The best in fact. And it would take little intelligence to deduct that the hotheaded Taishou preferred good wine to bad company. Good company, it must be admitted, was rather difficult to find at such stifling social gatherings of higher ups spewing self-glorifying compliments to their own power.
Konzen could be tolerated, for a time. Goku was just out of the question because he was never invited- for good reason too. And then there was Tenpou the best company heaven could possibly grant him. Tenpou Gensui was level headed, calculating, quiet, though tactfully haughty, diplomatic and ABSENT.
To hell with all his good qualities. And he could have at least said something about not coming. Oh, he so owes me now.
"Where's the Marshall? Shouldn't he be at the dinner?" they asked right after the appetizers, half curious, half jeering because...well...everyone knows the rumors so there's no need to even explain. The empty seat next to him seemed to radiate a strange multitude of speculations, the most popular being a "lover's quarrel" which one noble did not hesitate to mutter in delight.
Kenren feigned apathy and shrugged although his mind was fishing for some convenient answer that wouldn't fuel any future slander. Fortunately, Konzen cut in for him. "He's doing a cursory surveillance round on earth." the Boddhisvata's nephew explained coolly, not even bothering to glance at Kenren.
"Isn't that a subordinate's duty, General?." another aristocrat quirked with a hint of a smirk on his face. "Or is he just doing you a little favor among others? Perhaps it should be the other way around?"
What a fucking dipshit.
An infinite amount of obscenities learned over millennia were flying through his alcohol tinged mind. Was that a challenge? You throw dirt, I'll give you a fucking mud slide...
Beneath the table, the general clenched his fist in order to maintain composure, his eyes narrowing with growing irritation.
"Isn't this the pot calling the china black?" Kenren grinned maliciously as he saw the man pale, turning white as the tablecloth. Okay, he never really saw himself nor Tenpou as 'fine china' but it was the only thing in the damn kitchen he knew wasn't black. (And Tenpou would just be plain insulted if he were compared to a see-through wine glass). "Just because you're bent towards under-the-table "deals" doesn't mean you should assume others are too."
So much for diplomacy. But wow. That came out way nicer than he'd been planning. Perhaps he'd been spending too much time with these aristocrats. But since Kenren was already on track he added contemptuously in his own haughty style, "With all do respect, sir, if you were honestly thinking of the Marshall in any way save professionally, I just gotta say that he ain't your type at all."
So much for not feeding rumors, but the anguished look of humiliation on the counselor's face would be worth every word of new gossip.
Kenren's remark was received by a few amused smiles in his favor. Even Konzen, who was delicately sipping his wine at the time, lightly choked on the dark liquid in surprise and almost spat it out at the offended noble. The latter then flushed a bright red and indignantly turned away from the general in order to start a safer conversation with the lieutenant of the southern armies (who, by the way, also strained to keep a straight face so as to avoid the wrath of Kenren's victim).
The next few hours, however boring, were blissfully devoid of the innovated scandals that usually followed him as surely as his own shadow. And after tonight, he was confident that the blatant wisecracks would be avoided for at least a week.
In any case, that problem momentarily solved, Kenren was left with one last puzzle: that damned empty seat.
Darkness had fallen upon the celestial realm. It was another perfectly tranquil night which had been preceded by an infinite number of tranquil nights exactly like it, possibly unchanged since the beginning of time. A large moon loomed overhead- radiant silver illuminating its unblemished surface. The night garden had come alive and the supple white flowers opened slowly, if not shyly, upon being graced by the gently shining moonbeams.
Kenren cared very little for such delicate beauty. Perhaps the aristocratic Konzen had the breeding to appreciate it, but as for the General, he was moved by good alcohol, a good fight and good company- not necessarily in that order, of course. Now then, speaking of company...
"Sulking?" The voice rung out clear in the stillness of night. Having stopped his little stroll while next to the garden's pond, Kenren only needed to look into mirror reflection of the still water to identify the voice- not that he really needed visual confirmation anyway. Konzen would have been the only one with enough nerve to confront him after his previous performance.
"Not at all. Why the fuck would I be?"
No answer. Typical.
Kenren shrugged and reached into his pocket to pull out a new pack of cigarettes. "Hey, what you said back there...were you..."
"I was lying." said the other with well constructed apathy. "I don't know where the fool went..."
The stingless insult was taken just as it was given. Neither made a fuss as Kenren lit up.
"...all I know is that he's back now."
"Hmm." The reply was uncharacteristically short, but it was Kenren's way of showing how pissed off he was at the time. "Baka." he replied to no one in particular, only half thinking as he watched the gray swirls of smoke rise up and mix with the pale rays of moonlight.
The crisp ruffling of expensive fabric whispered through the air. Konzen was taking his leave. "When you see the marshal," the bureaucrat started, not bothering to look over his shoulder, "Tell him not to be so neglectful of his social obligations. I'm not covering for him again. It's a waste of breath." And with that, he left the general to his ruminations.
The wind had stilled and not a ripple was made upon the pond's surface producing a perfect reflection of the world that had created it. A perfect representation as well, for one knows that the surface is only the surface and below the surface anything imaginable can exist. A lot of rocks, that's for sure. And murky water.
Tonight, the water was a motionless, opaque obsidian, which made Kenren remember something Tenpou had once mentioned out of the blue over a cup of sake.
"Black ice. It's frozen mist. Thin and treacherous. I know what you're going to say. 'A little water ain't gonna hurt nobody' or something as uncouth as that. Don't bother asking why I'm even mention it. I guess you could call it friendly advice?"
At that point, Kenren lifted a curious brow, but said nothing because the tone in which Tenpou spoke told him that the marshal expected no answer. Tenpou smiled good-naturedly though it did little to reassure the lightly muddled general.
"Perhaps you'll understand it later and perhaps through a stroke of good luck, you won't, but nevermind that for now." He paused, gazing into the small cup of strong, clear liquid like a tea reader looking into a shady future. "But say you needed to cross an iced-over lake in order to obtain some sort of goal. Going around the lake's perimeter would simply be too tedious, so then you calculate that the ice is thick enough to support your weight."
"Ain't somethin' I would do, though." interceded Kenren, gulping down the rest of the sake.
"You really should learn how to swim..."
"Forget I even said anything. That isn't the point."
A slight frown then turned down the sides of Tenpou's mouth at the other's answer, but he continued nevertheless.
"But let's just say that the risk is actually worth it because the goal is that important...So you cross and it starts off well, but you don't notice that patch of black ice because it in the darkness of night, it appears to be consistent with the rest of the lake although it isn't even thick enough to sustain that empty sake glass you're holding. By the way, I hope you left some for me..."
Not answering verbally, Kenren reached over and poured the last drops of sake into Tenpou's cup, eyes never leaving those of the other. Tenpou's intense gaze loooked completely sober- which made his words all the more unsettling.
"Anyway, you don't foresee the danger so you fall through the surface, into the water and never come out. In short, you die -although for us the term might not be accurate- because it's the quickest means to an end."
"But according to you, a worthy end."
"No drunken idiot would try to cross a frozen lake in the dead of the night."
The conversation had taken place not too long ago and at the time, he had simply assumed Tenpou's words to be the product of a little too much strong wine before a meal. It puzzled him still and it would perhaps puzzle him until the end of eternity or at least...until he sees that end for himself. The thought made him shudder and in his mind Kenren thrice dammed the other man for planting the idea in his head. Tenpou was planning something, it was obvious, but whatever it was, he knew almost for certain that the marshal wasn't going to tell him until they were both walking on thin ice.
It was on times like these when he just wished to escape from the overworld, its crystalline perfection and immaculately refined elegance. It was on times like these when he would simply be drawn to the world below out of mere curiosity and a strange desire to steep himself in elemental imperfection. So then it would be on times like these when Tenpou, field marshal of the celestial army, would find himself without company, without books, without superiors, without subordinates, without rank, and without bureaucratic tangles and spider web conspiracies. Nothing but himself and a humid, earthly summer in a land where emerald green mountains rose magestically to the sky, where the sparkling mist hung low embracing those sleeping giants. Nothing but Tenpou and a steady fall of rain.
Nobody would have noticed the solitary figure propped up on a smooth, flat stone at the top of a hill, looking over the valley below as if one of the silent guardian spirits so worshipped at the time. In fact, even if any passing villager had bothered to actually look, his or her eyes would have only fallen upon the image of a solemn wolf whose silver form wavered against the fiery strokes of light that painted the late afternoon sky. A disguised god seeking a momentary respite from heaven, though it never really was his heaven. And so Tenpou sat, observing without pondering the peculiar double presence of a harsh sun and a gentle rainfall.
Once in a blue moon he would find among his vast collection of scrolls and books, one or two poems written by well bred generals of a ruling class not about battle strategy and blood, but the simple beauty of the land they fought to protect. And inevitably, his calculating eyes would suddenly stumble upon praises of the rain. Life giver. Food giver. Tears of angels that washed away the blood strewn upon the torn battlefield. A celestial cleansing. But the most ironic, to him at least, was that so many civilizations of this world considered this purely earthly phenomenon to be a gift from the gods. It never even rained in heaven.
But here they certainly do need it. Thought Tenpou casually as he noted the sticky heat and shrugged out of his protocol black uniform jacket, the cool drops of water easily penetrating the silken fabric of the shirt underneath. They beaded on his bangs and lashes, ran down his face in steady rivulets- a tender, natural caress.
Tenpou came to this very spot often to seek the sensations that heaven could never provide in its perpetually pristine snow globe utopia. Up there, it felt too untainted. Uncolored. The soul was too restrained, strictly inhibited and locked in pearly cases with golden keys. A marble fountain whose watery surface had frozen over. And forever it shall remain unless someone powerful enough decides to shatter it all. Perhaps it would be for the better- to force a bit of animation onto a stagnant Shangri la.
So until the ice cracked, fleeting instants on earth would be enough to keep him from turning into just another sculpture in that glassy house of cards. The air here felt almost surged with electric energy. Deliciously impure. A drug to treat the senses. Everything just seemed to breathe and radiate a life of its own. Everything felt deep and heady. Everything rich and spicy. Everything sensual and sultry. Everything feeding on raw emotion and passion. Everything hissed and whispered. And Tenpou would just sit and listen for small eternities...but apparently never considered, or even cared that a certain general might be looking for him.
***
"Bastard!" growled Kenren to himself as he strayed away from the polite mingling of military officers and nobles that congregated in the main dining room of the palace.
Bullshit politicians. Bullshit politics. Bullshit conspiracies. "And damn that Tenpou for wussing out of it!" The only redeeming feature of those insufferable hours was the good wine. The best in fact. And it would take little intelligence to deduct that the hotheaded Taishou preferred good wine to bad company. Good company, it must be admitted, was rather difficult to find at such stifling social gatherings of higher ups spewing self-glorifying compliments to their own power.
Konzen could be tolerated, for a time. Goku was just out of the question because he was never invited- for good reason too. And then there was Tenpou the best company heaven could possibly grant him. Tenpou Gensui was level headed, calculating, quiet, though tactfully haughty, diplomatic and ABSENT.
To hell with all his good qualities. And he could have at least said something about not coming. Oh, he so owes me now.
"Where's the Marshall? Shouldn't he be at the dinner?" they asked right after the appetizers, half curious, half jeering because...well...everyone knows the rumors so there's no need to even explain. The empty seat next to him seemed to radiate a strange multitude of speculations, the most popular being a "lover's quarrel" which one noble did not hesitate to mutter in delight.
Kenren feigned apathy and shrugged although his mind was fishing for some convenient answer that wouldn't fuel any future slander. Fortunately, Konzen cut in for him. "He's doing a cursory surveillance round on earth." the Boddhisvata's nephew explained coolly, not even bothering to glance at Kenren.
"Isn't that a subordinate's duty, General?." another aristocrat quirked with a hint of a smirk on his face. "Or is he just doing you a little favor among others? Perhaps it should be the other way around?"
What a fucking dipshit.
An infinite amount of obscenities learned over millennia were flying through his alcohol tinged mind. Was that a challenge? You throw dirt, I'll give you a fucking mud slide...
Beneath the table, the general clenched his fist in order to maintain composure, his eyes narrowing with growing irritation.
"Isn't this the pot calling the china black?" Kenren grinned maliciously as he saw the man pale, turning white as the tablecloth. Okay, he never really saw himself nor Tenpou as 'fine china' but it was the only thing in the damn kitchen he knew wasn't black. (And Tenpou would just be plain insulted if he were compared to a see-through wine glass). "Just because you're bent towards under-the-table "deals" doesn't mean you should assume others are too."
So much for diplomacy. But wow. That came out way nicer than he'd been planning. Perhaps he'd been spending too much time with these aristocrats. But since Kenren was already on track he added contemptuously in his own haughty style, "With all do respect, sir, if you were honestly thinking of the Marshall in any way save professionally, I just gotta say that he ain't your type at all."
So much for not feeding rumors, but the anguished look of humiliation on the counselor's face would be worth every word of new gossip.
Kenren's remark was received by a few amused smiles in his favor. Even Konzen, who was delicately sipping his wine at the time, lightly choked on the dark liquid in surprise and almost spat it out at the offended noble. The latter then flushed a bright red and indignantly turned away from the general in order to start a safer conversation with the lieutenant of the southern armies (who, by the way, also strained to keep a straight face so as to avoid the wrath of Kenren's victim).
The next few hours, however boring, were blissfully devoid of the innovated scandals that usually followed him as surely as his own shadow. And after tonight, he was confident that the blatant wisecracks would be avoided for at least a week.
In any case, that problem momentarily solved, Kenren was left with one last puzzle: that damned empty seat.
Darkness had fallen upon the celestial realm. It was another perfectly tranquil night which had been preceded by an infinite number of tranquil nights exactly like it, possibly unchanged since the beginning of time. A large moon loomed overhead- radiant silver illuminating its unblemished surface. The night garden had come alive and the supple white flowers opened slowly, if not shyly, upon being graced by the gently shining moonbeams.
Kenren cared very little for such delicate beauty. Perhaps the aristocratic Konzen had the breeding to appreciate it, but as for the General, he was moved by good alcohol, a good fight and good company- not necessarily in that order, of course. Now then, speaking of company...
"Sulking?" The voice rung out clear in the stillness of night. Having stopped his little stroll while next to the garden's pond, Kenren only needed to look into mirror reflection of the still water to identify the voice- not that he really needed visual confirmation anyway. Konzen would have been the only one with enough nerve to confront him after his previous performance.
"Not at all. Why the fuck would I be?"
No answer. Typical.
Kenren shrugged and reached into his pocket to pull out a new pack of cigarettes. "Hey, what you said back there...were you..."
"I was lying." said the other with well constructed apathy. "I don't know where the fool went..."
The stingless insult was taken just as it was given. Neither made a fuss as Kenren lit up.
"...all I know is that he's back now."
"Hmm." The reply was uncharacteristically short, but it was Kenren's way of showing how pissed off he was at the time. "Baka." he replied to no one in particular, only half thinking as he watched the gray swirls of smoke rise up and mix with the pale rays of moonlight.
The crisp ruffling of expensive fabric whispered through the air. Konzen was taking his leave. "When you see the marshal," the bureaucrat started, not bothering to look over his shoulder, "Tell him not to be so neglectful of his social obligations. I'm not covering for him again. It's a waste of breath." And with that, he left the general to his ruminations.
The wind had stilled and not a ripple was made upon the pond's surface producing a perfect reflection of the world that had created it. A perfect representation as well, for one knows that the surface is only the surface and below the surface anything imaginable can exist. A lot of rocks, that's for sure. And murky water.
Tonight, the water was a motionless, opaque obsidian, which made Kenren remember something Tenpou had once mentioned out of the blue over a cup of sake.
"Black ice. It's frozen mist. Thin and treacherous. I know what you're going to say. 'A little water ain't gonna hurt nobody' or something as uncouth as that. Don't bother asking why I'm even mention it. I guess you could call it friendly advice?"
At that point, Kenren lifted a curious brow, but said nothing because the tone in which Tenpou spoke told him that the marshal expected no answer. Tenpou smiled good-naturedly though it did little to reassure the lightly muddled general.
"Perhaps you'll understand it later and perhaps through a stroke of good luck, you won't, but nevermind that for now." He paused, gazing into the small cup of strong, clear liquid like a tea reader looking into a shady future. "But say you needed to cross an iced-over lake in order to obtain some sort of goal. Going around the lake's perimeter would simply be too tedious, so then you calculate that the ice is thick enough to support your weight."
"Ain't somethin' I would do, though." interceded Kenren, gulping down the rest of the sake.
"You really should learn how to swim..."
"Forget I even said anything. That isn't the point."
A slight frown then turned down the sides of Tenpou's mouth at the other's answer, but he continued nevertheless.
"But let's just say that the risk is actually worth it because the goal is that important...So you cross and it starts off well, but you don't notice that patch of black ice because it in the darkness of night, it appears to be consistent with the rest of the lake although it isn't even thick enough to sustain that empty sake glass you're holding. By the way, I hope you left some for me..."
Not answering verbally, Kenren reached over and poured the last drops of sake into Tenpou's cup, eyes never leaving those of the other. Tenpou's intense gaze loooked completely sober- which made his words all the more unsettling.
"Anyway, you don't foresee the danger so you fall through the surface, into the water and never come out. In short, you die -although for us the term might not be accurate- because it's the quickest means to an end."
"But according to you, a worthy end."
"No drunken idiot would try to cross a frozen lake in the dead of the night."
The conversation had taken place not too long ago and at the time, he had simply assumed Tenpou's words to be the product of a little too much strong wine before a meal. It puzzled him still and it would perhaps puzzle him until the end of eternity or at least...until he sees that end for himself. The thought made him shudder and in his mind Kenren thrice dammed the other man for planting the idea in his head. Tenpou was planning something, it was obvious, but whatever it was, he knew almost for certain that the marshal wasn't going to tell him until they were both walking on thin ice.