The day is gorgeous, and the king has been griping for hours.
"Screw this," the king complains. He has already deemed this screwed for about the fifth time in as many minutes. He wipes his brow and tugs on the edge of his loose collar in a fanning motion as we walk. "It's freaking hotter than Big Sight in August with a bajillion sweaty people," he declares.
The blue phoenix keeping pace just a step behind us coos in sympathy. The king reaches over and scratches under his spirit beast's chin. Its eyes close into happy slits at the pleasurable sensation.
"You too, right?" the king says. He glances over at me. "Hokushin's the only one who doesn't look like he's being baked in a microwave. Even if he's wearing more layers than the two of us combined."
Baked in an oven, I correct him in my head, and the king would be far less heated than I if he did not constantly dash about everywhere. But I say neither of these things out loud. Not that I am concerned about talking back to the king. (That was never a fear with him, nor with his predecessor, unlike with many other rulers one could name.)
In truth, it really is quite hot, and I do not particularly fancy enduring a back and forth that would likely result in a headache.
"I believe there is a freshwater spring nearby," I say instead, and watch with quiet amusement as the king perks up.
It is my belief that the king possibly exemplifies the phrase more accurately and consistently than anyone else I have ever known. (And I have known, and continue to know, a great deal of people. Not a boast, but a simple matter of fact as I served as Raizen's right hand for several centuries even before serving his heir.) The king's back instantly straightens, his shoulders jerk down, his eyes light up - literally, his eyebrows shoot up, his irises glow a brighter hue - and I can easily visualize a pair of pointed ears standing, alert, then flicking excitedly. When the king is in full battle god state with a long, thick mane of hair, the top of his head is particularly unruly, resulting in animal ear-like tufts, so that perhaps helps my imagination.
"Where!" the king demands. Behind him, his spirit beast cocks its head, wide-eyed, long ears arched and pointed outward in opposite directions like a pair of antennae. I stifle a chuckle at the sight of the two of them.
When we arrive at the spring, the king is even more delighted. "Hey, it's bigger than I expected!" he exclaims.
I nod. "Yes, one could bathe in it."
"Don't mind if I do," he replies. "Here!" A blur, and then my vision is completely obscured by fabric, the king having removed and flung articles of clothing at a speed too great for most to process. There is an exuberant whoop, followed by a loud, graceless splash (probably from a demon cannonball, as he likes to call them), cursing (mostly in relation to the chilled temperature of the water), weighted stomping and flapping, a scream of "PUU, NO!", and then noisy squawking accompanied by more splashing.
I sigh and pull the king's pants off of my head. "If the water were any shallower, you would be lying there with a broken neck," I call after him.
"Whatever, mom," I hear the king cheerfully call back with his usual brand of humour. "Keep an eye out for assassins and pervs and stuff!" There are more insistent cooing sounds. "Puu, you dumbass, knock it off! You won't fit!"
I smile and shake my head. I stand guard at the side of the spring, the king's clothing draped over my arms, taking a moment to enjoy the crisp breezes over the cool water whenever they happen to make themselves known. After a while of this peace (the calm interrupted only periodically by splashing water, bird cries and idle swearing), I make my way slightly downstream. There I proceed to wash the king's robes in the water, wringing them out and hanging them on a taut vine, letting the bright Makai sun do its work.
I am tugging the vine, making sure nothing will snap or fly off and back into the stream, when I sense a new presence. It is a very mild one, and further downstream from me, but one must never lower their guard. I lift my head, scanning the area to locate the intruder, then move closer to assess.
It is a human boy - young, no more than a teenager. He is wandering around and clearly taking in the sights of an alien landscape, examining the lush Makai vegetation. He is making no attempt to hide himself, and has most certainly not noticed me. Tall for his age (taller than the king, who is not short per se, but is also hardly the most vertically gifted individual), lanky, and slightly awkward.
And - well, I am not entirely sure, having only met and come to know the man when he was much older, and it has been a long time, but-
I clear my throat when I am near. "Ahem," I say, not wishing to startle the human.
The boy jumps, then turns.
"Ah, s-sorry, mister," he says sheepishly. "I was just lookin' around. I've never been in the Makai before, so-"
"That is fine and well," I interrupt him. "These are public lands, human-friendly, and you are not in any sort of trouble. I simply wish to warn you that there is a buck-naked demon flailing in the water." I point over my shoulder in the general direction.
"Oh," says the boy, looking confused, then concerned mixed with bewilderment. His voice rises in both volume and pitch as he speaks. "Thank you? Wait, do they need help?"
"Yo, this tub is taken!" I hear the king holler. Vigorous splashing follows.
"We are fully aware," I call back, over my shoulder.
"There's not enough room for two people to cannonball!"
"No one is going to cannonball," I shout back again, growing exasperated in record time thanks to the heat.
Raucous squawking fills the air. "Gimme a sec and then you can jump!" the king is still yelling, clearly not hearing (or not listening) to a word I said.
I give up, and turn back to the boy to answer his original question. "No," I say.
"Uh, okay," replies the boy, uncertainly.
"'kay, I'm done!" the king yells at the same volume as before. "I'm comin' out!"
"Thank goodness," I mutter. The boy turns politely to face the opposite direction.
I see the spirit beast first, blocking the sight of the king behind it. It stops abruptly before puffing itself up, then shaking in a violent spiral like a giant feathered dog, waterdrops flying everywhere. There are howls of surprise and mock-rage, and then one blue wing is pushed up, the king emerging from behind the curtain of feathers, lightly smacking the side of his avian other half as he walks past. "You're a little shit sometimes, you know that?" the king grumbles good-naturedly. The phoenix chirps back happily.
I hold out the king's clothing, and find myself also holding my breath.
"Sorry," the boy is saying, still staring into the distance, "It's my family's first time in the Makai, so I kinda snuck off because I was just pretty excited to take a look around ..."
The king looks up and sees the human intruder for the first time.
He freezes.
It is only for a split second before his motion continues, nearly unbroken. The shift is too subtle and quick for most to detect, even for many in his service to notice, much less the human, if he had been facing us. I, of course, do notice, having accompanied the king for all these years.
The king takes the clothing I offer him, no further sign that anything is amiss. "Thanks," he says, briefly toweling off his hair with the robe, and begins to dress. "First time in the Makai, eh? You guys on a guided tour? Or did you 'splurge' on an all-inclusive?"
The boy partially turns, laughing, embarrassed, one hand behind his head. "Yeah, all-inclusive, there was a special and it was a lot cheaper. The resort was nice, but I got bored and- ah -uh," he breaks off, sputtering, gawking, doing a comedic double take as he sizes up the distinct appearance of the king and the unmistakable spirit beast. "Your tattoos!" His eyes lit up, and he jabs a finger at the spirit beast, and then at me. "And this is a blue phoenix! And you're a bald monk!"
The king, in the midst of slipping on his shoes, looks over his shoulder and throws me a look, an exaggerated are-you-kidding-me expression with one eyebrow raised.
The boy clutches the sides of his head excitedly, his eyes growing comically wide. "Are you King Urameshi?"
"No, I'm just a stunt double," says the king without missing a beat, his delivery completely deadpan.
"Oh," says the boy, arms dropping, immediately crestfallen. Every inch of him reads immense disappointment. "Darn. It woulda been a cool story to tell my family."
The king starts to snicker. I roll my eyes. Politely. (It's a skill I've mastered.)
"What?" says the human, confused. He looks from me to the blank-faced spirit beast to the amused king. His face turns slightly red. "Why're you laughin'? You makin' fun of me?"
The king laughs again, the open, friendly one that puts everyone at ease. He shakes his head. "Naw, I just thought your question was funny."
The boy considers. "Oh, yeah," the boy says, scratching the side of his face and chuckling self-effacingly. "Yeah, I guess it was a pretty dumb question. I mean, obviously the real king would be a lot taller."
The innocent statement combined with the expression on the king's face is too much. I burst out laughing.
The human is thoroughly confused at this point, and the king is glaring daggers at me now, but I am not particularly perturbed. He clearly brought this upon himself, and as beloved as the king is amongst his subjects, it is fairly safe to say seeing the king's pranks backfire on him every once in a while brings great entertainment to many, if not all, of us.
Of course, that said, it is unseemly to be laughing at the king. I cough, pat my chest, and compose myself.
"I beg your forgiveness for not making proper introductions," I say, bowing and reaching out to the boy, hand palm side up. Typically one should always introduce the other party to the king first, but seeing as we have already caused no end of confusion and embarrassment to the poor boy, I decide it is only appropriate to flip this around. "My name is Hokushin. I am accompanying the administrator of Territory 1, King Urameshi Yusuke."
The boy is slack jawed. He covers his mouth. "Oh shi- oh my god- I'm a moron- I'm so sorry- please don't blast me into a mountain-"
"Hey, don't worry," says the king. "You're not in trouble." He pointedly emphasizes the word "you're" and glowers at me at the same time. I smile pleasantly at the human and pretend not to notice.
"We are honoured to make your acquaintance," I continue. "May we be equally honoured to know your name?"
He introduces himself, still flustered and falling all over himself in his apologies, and we spend several more moments assuring him everything is okay. We - mostly the king - converse with him for a while, and he tells us about his family, his home, his interests, while the king answers a couple of questions about his escapades.
"Oh, crap," says the boy suddenly, remembering something. "I should really be gettin' back before everyone freaks out." He bows awkwardly, both arms straight at his sides. "It was so cool getting to meet you guys!" He dips his head again at the king apologetically. "Uh, sorry again about that. I really am a moron."
"It's all good," says the king. "Say hi to your folks for us." He looks thoughtful for a moment, then raises a finger. "Hold on one sec."
The boy pauses, and the king runs a hand over the spirit beast's side, stopping near its rump, and tugs. The phoenix screeches inelegantly.
"Oh, sorry, Puu," says the king. "Thought that one was already loose." The bird squints its eyes, shaking its head huffily in negation.
The king flicks the impressive plucked feather, deep blue streaked with gold, towards the human. The boy reaches out and grasps it bemusedly.
"If you're ever in the capital," says the king, "Drop by. If I'm around, I can give you a tour. If not, show that thing and one of the monks'll do it."
"Awesome!" the boy says enthusiastically, both fists raised in excitement. "Wow, a real feather from King Urameshi's spirit beast! Thanks a million! This is the best thing ever!"
The king waves a hand. "Eh, it's nothing. Plenty more butt feathers where that one came from." The phoenix makes a short, high noise that is a cross between a pitched whine and an indignant squeal.
We watch the human boy leave. He turns several times, waving the feather vigorously at us with a huge grin stretching across his face. The king wears a smile on his face as well, and waves a few times to match.
Once the human is out of sight, the king turns abruptly in the opposite direction.
"Whatever," the king says, more brusquely than necessary, a response to no one. "Let's go." His face has become quite expressionless, as if it has suddenly turned off. Unlike happiness or anger, other extremes never seem to project themselves as apparently, but this sudden change makes it obvious the king is extremely upset.
We walk in silence. Several minutes pass before it starts.
"He didn't have any scars," the king mumbles, distractedly. One hand scratches absently at his neck near the collarbone, the side of his palm hovering just above the ancient twin puncture scars on his own chest. "Well, why would he," the king continues, answering his own non-question. His voice is quiet, though rising and quickening with each syllable spilling from his lips, sounding increasingly agitated. "I never beat him up. He never fought Saint Beasts or rescued Yukina. He was never in the Dark Tournament. He ..."
I say nothing, letting the king vent. The king only trails off into silence. After a while, he stops walking.
I come to a stop beside him, standing there quietly. He stares into the distance, his expression still blank. Or, perhaps, bleak.
When the king finally speaks again, his words are nearly inaudible. I only know exactly what they are because it is neither the first nor the second time the king has asked them.
"Are humans always reborn as humans?"
I remember the little girl, her thick braided hair coloured like pale coral, who seemed utterly unimpressed by anything, and how her unflappable reactions drew great laughter from the king. And the lost brown-eyed child, whom the king spoke engagingly with for what seemed like hours before her parents were found and she returned to their delighted arms.
I remember how at first the king had been in wonder, giddy and excited. The years passed: ten, then twenty, then fifty, then a century.
And they continue to pass.
Worse than the certain misidentifications were the uncertain, distanced ones: the distances in the state of lives that make further interaction unfeasible or unfair to the new life that is being lived. No one can function with an active memory of all their lives, and each life is rich, distinct, independent. It is true that in the cycle of rebirth, paths intersect all the time, but far less often and rarely as deeply or intimately as one might think, even for the strongest of connections. There are so many lives, after all.
And so many souls.
I remember how at first I had wondered - perhaps even fretted over - how the king would handle the disappointments. Over the years, I learned the answer. Most of the time, they were handled with silence, and simply never raised again. As is my own nature, I remember all of them. I am sure, though the king never mentions any disappointment again, that I am not the only one.
It is a testament to the king's stubborn personality that the initial wonder has never fully disappeared, though it has become tempered, and a testament to his character that he has not yet become jaded or bitter.
And perhaps that only makes the burden of memory ache more deeply. A demon's span of life is long, of course, but the king is young for a demon, and his humanity lingers. I was never human, but I served his ancestral father and now I serve him. And I imagine that time must seem to pass agonizingly, maddeningly, heartbreakingly slow.
"You know the answer as well as I," I reply, with as much empathy as I can.
The king does not reply immediately. A long, immeasurable demon heartbeat passes. One marked hand reaches out and down to where the phoenix's head hangs low to the ground. Fingers scratch, gently, behind one long ear.
"I dunno how Raizen did it for seven hundred years," is all the king says.
The spirit beast is silent, its eyes dark and wet.
Author's notes: Before he dies, Raizen explicitly tells Yusuke about his vision of a day when all three worlds are open to each other, and even describes humans vacationing in the Makai. He also notes that no one truly knows where souls end up, including the Reikai. This conversation is completely erased in the English dub, which I thought was a great pity. This is a take on these ideas.
It's always interesting seeing how a concept actually unfolds. I was having more challenges making it workable until I changed the perspective to first person, and shifted everything into the present tense.
There's a Comiket reference because I'm a lazy nerd and it was the best I could do on short notice for something regularly very hot in Japan.
Up next, a travel guide to the Makai.