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On a day much like every other day on the little farmstead, Farmer Watanabe stepped out and, with a cup of tea in one hand and a hat of woven reeds in the other, headed toward his customary place beneath the tree in the yard. Chickens paid little heed to him as they milled about scratching at the dirt, while from the barn came the seemingly constant bleating, mooing and whinnying demands to be fed. His destination was the sun-dappled bench where he could sit and sip his tea in relative peace. Fanning himself with the hat, he fixed his gaze upon the vegetable garden and the green-speckled rice fields, and let the familiar sounds of home wash over him.
Beginning with a crashing noise from somewhere inside the house, followed by a succession of equally loud screeching. "Mama! The pig's runnin' around in the house again!"
"Oh by the gods! Get that animal out of here! Watanabe!"
"Ugh! Stupid hog's tracked mud all over my futon! Ain't Father supposed t'fix that door to the pen?"
"Well, dummy, if you'd rolled up your futon—"
"Shut up, stupid!"
"Goro, don't call your sister stupid. This is your father's fault. Watanabe! Get in here, I said! Watanabe? Oh by the gods! Goro, get that damned pig out right now!"
There was a tremendous din as the pig attempted to elude capture, and for a moment the squealing of both pig and human filled the yard. Farmer Watanabe sipped his tea with the calm, almost monk-like composure of a grizzled veteran of countless Watanabe family skirmishes. The commotion inside the house soon came to a clanging, grunting climax, only to be replaced by the increasingly agitated animal noises coming from the barn.
"What's that racket? Oh by the gods, ain't the animals been fed yet? Watanabe! That useless old—Goro, go see to it. That cow needs to be milked."
"Why me? Make Naru do it."
"Nu-uh, Mama said you do it!"
"You do it!"
"You do it!"
"Shut up, both of you! Where's Sen?"
"Yeah, make Sen do it. Stupid baby ought t'make herself useful for once."
"I saw her wandering out to the forest. Probably going t'visit that old pile of rocks again. Father lets her, see."
"Oh by the gods. Watanabe, you lazy bag of bones! I thought I told you to get in here!"
Farmer Watanabe sighed as he watched a hawk circling lazily in the sky. Oh yes. A day just like every other day. Day after day after day—
A small noise interrupted his musings. His youngest, Sen, approached him, her hands clasped in front of her, her little face solemn. "Ah, there you are," he said placidly. "Your mother's lookin' for you."
"Father, you know that old stone guardian in the forest?"
He nodded.
"I saw somethin' there—"
A loud bang, followed by an agonized creak and finally a thud signaled the emergence of Mrs. Watanabe and the consequent demise of the farmstead's front door. He caught a glimpse of the door now hanging forlornly on its one remaining hinge before it was eclipsed by the apron-clad girth of his wife. Waddling behind her, like belligerent ducklings of a particularly martial species of duck, were his two elder children. She scowled at him, hands planted firmly on her hips, a pose that the children imitated right down to the gentle rippling of the extra folds of flesh on their waists, but not even the combined force of three identical glares could make a dent in Farmer Watanabe's rock-solid armor of tranquility.
Mrs. Watanabe took a deep breath. "Watanabe!" she bellowed at point-blank range. "You worthless excuse for a man! You good-for-nothing wretch! Look at you! I been workin' my hands to the bone since sun-up, mindin' your poor children, and here's you sittin' on your bum like some lazy sot from the city? What about them fields? What about them animals? What about your wife and children?"
On and on she went, with Goro and Naru providing a background of synchronized nods and chorused "yeahs." Farmer Watanabe regarded them with a vaguely interested expression.
"Father?" Sen said.
Effortlessly tuning out his wife and two elder children, Farmer Watanabe turned toward his youngest, who was looking decidedly worried.
"I saw something, Father. Somethin' really strange."
"What do you mean, strange? That old statue in the woods?"
Sen nodded frantically. "I saw lots and lots of colored lights and the leaves were blowin' off the trees and the stone was glowin' and then I saw—"
"Hey, you!" Goro cut in rudely. "Runnin' away from your chores again, huh?"
"What're you babblin' about, anyway?" Naru demanded.
Sen paused only to cast an aggravated look at her siblings. "Father, someone was there, he had pretty white hair and he was talkin' to the stone, at least I'm pretty sure he was a 'he'—"
"Hah! Lil' baby's seein' ghosts again," Goro said snidely, elbowing Naru in the ribs.
"And you, Sen!" The little girl quailed at the looming presence of Mrs. Watanabe in full fury. "Didn't I tell you not to wander around in the forest? Didn't I tell you!"
"Oya, oya! Is this any way to treat the emissary of the Great Kandora, Sorcerer Supreme of the Mystic and Erudite Order of the Rainbow-Aura'd Serpent of Light and the Grand Protector of the Sacred Fires of Lord Akkan the Sun God?"
Dust and feathers flew up in a sudden gust of wind, filling the entire yard with the scent of roses. Shards of rainbow-colored light flashed, forcing the Watanabes to shade their eyes against the brilliance. The dramatic strains of trumpet and violin music rode above the wind, and from the feathered, multi-hued haze a gleaming figure in scarlet and white emerged, arms raised in transcendent salutation.
Loud gasps and squeals of astonishment escaped Mrs. Watanabe and her brood of three. Even Farmer Watanabe's mask of amiable disinterest slipped for a moment.
As the dust and feathers settled and the sparkling rainbows faded back into ordinary sunlight, the figure revealed itself to be a tall young man whose strange yellow eyes shone bright against his pale face and the snowy tresses that reached well past his back. Over white silk robes he wore a long, flowing coat of scarlet velvet embroidered with silvery serpents twining sinuously around one another, and adorned with gold buttons shaped like suns. He held his pose for a moment longer, reveling in his effect upon his audience, while for some reason the heraldic music continued to play in the background. The source of the music, the Watanabes soon discovered, was less mystical than mechanical: A wagon stood by the roadside, drawn by a pair of horses—also snow-white—and covered with oilcloth painted a glossy scarlet and studded with rhinestones in vaguely serpentine patterns. A rectangular device sat atop small table beside the wagon, and the music blared from a funnel-shaped attachment. At the sight of the device, the slightly tinny quality of the music registered, but it detracted only somewhat from the overall impression of a scarlet and white whirling dervish blown in from the land of rose-scented incense and mind-altering substances.
Farmer Watanabe was the first to blink. The thought occurred to him that, being the head of the household and all, he ought to make some sort of statement about the situation. He stood up and cleared his throat. "Whuu-hoo—"
The stranger swept low in a gallant bow, one hand pressed upon his chest. "No, allow me to explain. I have been journeying far and wide on a quest to save the world from doom and utter destruction at the hands of one who would summon the darkness upon us all, if not for the lonely yet noble efforts of the heroes of Light such as I. Many villages have I passed through though never to stay, and many good people have I met though never for more than a mere shadow's brush against shadow, but still I journeyed on, valiantly facing hardship, danger and the scorn of the ignorant in the pursuit of my goal…"
Four pairs of Watanabe eyes glazed over as the stranger launched headlong into his tale as though he were standing on a stage. It was better than a stage, in fact. Farmer Watanabe had seen only a handful of wandering performers in his lifetime, but he couldn't recall seeing anyone who produced their own theatrical bursts of light and eldritch tendrils of smoke on cue.
He looked over at his youngest. "He said he was a mage," Sen said, shrugging.
"…braving the perils of the astral realm armed with my strength of will, my quick wit and my unsurpassed knowledge of sorcery in order to summon the legendary artifact from its slumber…"
Goro had by now recovered enough to snort derisively. "That ain't no mage, stupid. Everyone knows that mages are white-haired old men with beards."
"And flowin' robes and such," added Naru. "And they're supposed t'be very wise."
They stared at the stranger.
"Well," Sen said uncertainly, "maybe he's a very young mage."
"…have found, after traversing many treacherous paths and courageously fighting my way through demonic hordes, that the answer lay in an ancient, forgotten mystical tradition…"
The stranger continued to wax passionate, and Farmer Watanabe entertained the jaded thought that the man was his own best audience. A sensation of crackling hostility from somewhere beside him registered, and Farmer Watanabe peered out of the corner of his eye at his darling wife, who stood with eyes flaring, jowls quivering and cheeks purpling like a pair of eggplants. Mrs. Watanabe was unforgiving toward those who could beat her in her best event, and he found himself wincing in sympathy at the bout of temporary deafness the stranger was about to be afflicted with. If she could get a word in edgewise, that is.
Of course, she might decide not bother with it altogether. She sucked in a breath. "Shut your yappin', you loony, and tell us what in gods' name you doin' trespassin' on our property!"
To Farmer Watanabe's amazement, the strange young man wasn't the least bit fazed. "How rude," he sniffed, flipping his hair back. "I was just getting to the part where you come in. It's a fascinating story, isn't it? I could tell you much, much more, but unfortunately time is running out even as I stand—"
"Mister—" Farmer Watanabe tried to interject before his wife did.
"—brings me to the moment when I came upon the statue in the woods, where, incidentally, this little girl found me in the middle of a mystic rite that I'm sure wouldn't interest you at all—"
"I said—" Mrs. Watanabe growled.
"Mister—"
"—tell me about that old statue in the forest."
The Watanabes blinked at the sudden silence. The stranger waited patiently for three seconds, then impatiently for the next three, then opened his mouth again.
"It's really old," Sen blurted out with admirable presence of mind. "Really, really old."
The stranger arched an eyebrow, then in one smooth move lifted the shocked little girl's hand and bent low over it, beaming his intense yellow gaze right at her. "I know it's old, hmm?" he said in a voice topped with cream. "I could see that for myself. All right!" He straightened in a swirl of scarlet and white. "Can anyone give me a better answer than this little girl here? Anyone?"
"Well, it's—" Farmer Watanabe began hesitantly, then leaned back when both the stranger and his wife speared him with their gazes.
"Yes? Yes?" the stranger urged him.
"Watanabe, you shut up right now," his wife begged to disagree.
The stranger shot an oblique glance at Mrs. Watanabe that nevertheless seemed seemed to take in the entirety of situation. At least, it seemed that way to the already slightly frazzled Farmer Watanabe, who thought that the stranger's yellow eyes, when they were turned on him again, glowed just a bit brighter, gleaming with a knowledgeable—and opportunistic—light.
In that moment, Farmer Watanabe was prepared to believe that this curious young man who looked for all the world as if he were wearing a scarlet and white nightdress was truly what he said he was: The Great Mage Kandykandy or Whoever.
Ignoring his wife's outraged spluttering, Farmer Watanabe stepped forward. "That old stone guardian's been there for thousands o'years, Mister Mage. That's what my granddad said. He said the old tribes used to worship them stone statues as if they were gods or somethin', and that those guardians were once mighty powerful things. He also told me that those old stone guardians deserve our respect and rev'rence—" he shot his wife a look of almost desperate defiance "—'cause even now they still protects those homes that live close to 'em."
"There are many of them, then?"
Farmer Watanabe shrugged. "Dunno, really. My granddad said there were ten o' them scattered in different places. Ten or twelve or fifteen, right around that number."
"I see, I see," the stranger murmured, nodding. "However, the statue's so old, I can't make out what it's supposed to be."
"Dunno what it's—"
"It's a snake," Sen piped up, looking relieved at finally contributing something. "You could tell from the bit that looks like a coiled-up tail."
The stranger smiled widely. "A snake! A lucky stone snake, ne?"
"Huh," Mrs. Watanabe scoffed. "Nobody believes that superstitious nonsense, you old fool. And everyone knows your granddad wasn't right in the head, especially near the end."
The wounded silence didn't even get a chance to breathe. "Manly Romance!" the stranger roared in flamboyant non sequitur, throwing his hands in the air. "No matter where I go, through hill and farm, town and city, by moonless sky or scorching sun, the dreams never die. They live on in the secret fevered sighs in the night—white silk, creamy satin, delicate chiffon, feathers, plumes, lace, furs! The freedom to live your dreams! The freedom to let your secret self soar to the stars in fearless glory! Manly Romance!" The man was almost dancing at this point while the four Watanabes gaped at him with faint alarm. He halted abruptly right in front of Farmer Watanabe, who had to force himself not to jump back. "My thanks, Sir Farmer," the stranger stage-whispered to him. "My thanks are in your pocket."
Farmer Watanabe blinked, and sure enough, the pocket of his worn breeches did feel…occupied. The stranger then leaned back and winked at the now-grinning Sen. "When we meet again, you and I shall see the sights! Farewell, good people! Ha ha ha!"
In a final starburst of rainbow light and puffy, pink clouds of smoke, the stranger leaped up to his wagon and spurred his horses onwards. They watched him disappear down the road in a cloud of dust, his "ha-ha-has" fading into the distance, then Mrs. Watanabe sniffed, brushed at her apron and spun around. "That's got rid of that," she declared, as though by standing there and looking menacing she had singlehandedly driven away the intruder, with no help at all from her husband.
"What a loopy-head," Naru muttered, shaking her head.
"Yeah. Stinks like a girl, too," Goro added, before the two of them turned and waddled back to the house, following faithfully in their mother's footsteps.
Farmer Watanabe and his youngest stood in the yard, still gazing down the road. "He was…" She screwed up her face with effort. "He was…something. Wasn't he, Father?"
He reached down into his pocket and pulled out the object that had certainly not been there three minutes ago. The object was a small rectangular card, one side of which was mostly blue, except for one corner, which had some sort of very flat sparkly sequins pasted all over it, and the bottom part, which featured a stylized pink rose. In the center of the card, painted in vivid pink, was a single word: Ayame.
He turned the card over. It was a map of the City of Ryuukama (he figured it out from the neat illustration of the city and the cute, wide-eyed dragon fluttering in one corner), with an X drawn on a spot above one of the streets.
When we meet again, the stranger had said.
He stared at the card.
"Father?" He turned toward his youngest. "About that stone guardian in the forest? I believe you," Sen said earnestly. "I always have, Father, even before that mage came along."
He patted her head benevolently, then gazed out into the distance. Hmm. Yes. A bit of a holiday, perhaps? He could take Sen with him. Yes. What would be the harm in that?
"Manly romance," he muttered underneath his breath. And smiled.
(Peers cautiously over the edge of the manhole to check for presence of irate, impatient and completely justified readers. Ducks out of sight again.)
(Raises a series of signs ala Genma-panda.)
Sign 1: I'm so sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!
Sign 2: Yes, I'm alive. Still. Will wonders never cease?
Sign 3: I had a bit of trouble deciding how to introduce Ayame. After several false starts, I tried asking myself, what sort of man would ever need Ayame's kind of services? Only then did I really get started.
Sign 4: I posted this raw. As in first draft of the chapter. So truly sorry for the errors;I'll try to fix them up soon.
Sign 5: Despite his flakiness and, well, weirdness, I really like Ayame and I think he's not really as big an airhead as he comes off. I mean, he's still a businessman, right? That means he must have some brains somewhere.
Sign 6: I'm working on the Kagura-Tohru chapter right now. Pinky-swear.
Sign 7: Again, I'm really sorry for the LAAAAAAAAAAAAATE (can you say 'late'?) update and thank you for still reading. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
(Pulls down last sign, looks up again, and drops back with a yelp, followed by a flurry of eggs, rotten tomatoes, worn-out shoes and balled-up newspapers.)