When I went to deliver my end-of-day report to the king, I found his chambers empty, the massive windows wide open. A gentle night breeze circulated through the entire room, and I realized, for once, it actually wasn't storming - a rarity in our territory.
If this had been a hundred years ago, faced with an empty room and no sign of the king, I might have panicked. As it was, it was not, and I was much more familiar with the king's behaviour. Or at least, as much as anyone could be.
I extended my neck, stretching it out the window of the Acorn. (It seemed so long ago that we used to refer to this place as the throne room; while many had disliked the "new" name originally, all had to admit it was apt, and it stuck.) Outside, I did a quick circle around the structure, looking left and right about the main tower. After a brief moment's consideration, I doubled back and headed up, curving over the top of the Acorn.
There I found the king on the roof. He was lying on his back, one leg crossed over the opposite knee. A still-bandaged hand cradled the wrapped elbow of his other arm. Both were recent dressings from previous minor (for him) injuries. I always encouraged - or, in his words, nagged - him to keep them on longer than he felt was necessary to ensure proper mending, setting, or whatnot. He always healed tremendously fast, of course, so I wouldn't have been surprised if it was nearing, or already at, full-functioning capability again. But I've always felt better safe than sorry, and fortunately for the most part he humoured me in this area.
"My Lord," I greeted him. "What are you doing up here?"
He tilted his head slightly to acknowledge me, and smiled. He nodded his head towards the sky. "Check it out!" he said, quietly but enthusiastically.
I looked up, and was treated to the view of a completely unobscured Makai night. Pitch black with strokes of deep reds, hints of rich, dark blues to those with the right sensitivity of colour vision, and encrusted with billions of tiny points of light, sparkling like white jewels.
"Amazing," I said, and certainly meant it. We fell into mutual silence as we both took in the perfect, brilliant sight.
The king was the one who broke the stillness. "I wanna go on a trip," he said abruptly.
I cocked my head at him, snaking closer for better conversing. "You just returned from a trip," I said, knowing full well what he meant.
He sat up. "Not for work!" he exclaimed. When he saw my smile, he huffily flopped back down, then folded both arms behind his head.
"Where do you wish to vacation?" I asked, looping the air above him. "Portal jumps to the Human World are booking up fast. And you know Sarayashiki has been a tourist trap for decades now; you'll never have a moment's peace of any sort."
A few more moments passed. "Yeah …" he finally mumbled. "You're good. Or am I just getting that obvious?"
"Not to worry," I assured him. "You're still largely infuriatingly unpredictable."
He laughed at that. "Good," he said. "I'd hate to think I was borin' ya."
"That is highly unlikely to happen," I replied. "So any particular preferences for your get-away itinerary?" I began listing a few options, letting the king freely interrupt with his opinions on how enjoyable he felt they would be.
After a while, I detected a bit of a downward slide in his countenance. Following his last, "Nahhh," I was about to interject with another suggestion when the king suddenly exhaled loudly in a frustrated whoosh of air. He sat straight up again, staring past me.
"Aaarrghh!" he cried, flinging both arms up in the air, hands clenched into fists, then smacking them against his head and grabbing at his hair. "What the fuck is wrong with you, you dumbass?!" (This insult was, for the record, clearly not directed at me.) "Who the fuck cares?! Fuck it!"
With that outburst, he scrambled up, dashed to the edge of the Acorn and jumped, one arm catching the edge of the roof and swinging himself through the window back into his room, dodging around my standing body.
I reeled my head back in. "What are you doing?" I asked, pressing my head back down to its base and rubbing my retracted neck. Meanwhile, the king impressively multitasked his way out of his clothes - stripping down, flinging articles of clothing about the room, and changing into other, more casual civilian attire at the same time.
"What does it look like I'm doing?" he said, his voice muffled as he finished dragging a shirt over his head while hopping around the room, a hand pulling a sock up past the heel of one foot. He ripped the bandages off his hand and arm, and I noted with relief that they did appear to be fully healed. "I'm goin' on a trip! Incognito!"
"But where to?"
He ducked into the master bathroom, ran his head under the shower, then ran both hands through his hair. Facing the mirror, he styled it quickly in a fashion faintly reminiscent of his hairstyle a long time ago, from when I first met him, only this one was looser (and wetter, obviously), slightly longer, and swept more to one side.
"Somewhere! Anywhere! Wherever! We'll just hit a free portal and jump!" He was now grabbing and cramming things into a small duffel. "Backpackers do it all the time. Even before portals. You know, hitchhiking. And hopping on random flights and whatever."
Free portals were unstable and certainly much riskier than the travel portals used widely today, but both the king and I had more than enough power to stabilize one. And one certainly didn't win many arguments with the king by telling him how risky something was.
He slung the duffel over his shoulder. "Here!" He threw another bag in my face, along with more civilian-style clothing - I noted the label said one-size-fits-all - and then ran out of his room.
Something he had said stuck in my head.
"Wait- we?" I asked, baffled. I ran after him, bag and clothing under my arm, as he trotted down the hall connecting the Acorn to the main tower. "What do you mean, 'we'? What's this for? What are you doing?!" We were in my quarters now, and I was catching random objects flying at me from out of my own shelves and drawers.
"You need a vacation too, your head's gonna explode. It'll be like a, whaddaya call it, a sabbatical. It'll be great!"
I dropped the bag and the impossible items he had thrown at me on the floor. Well, except for all six volumes of The Complete Three Worlds Reference Encyclopedia Ultimate Collection, Fifth Edition, which I gingerly set back onto my bookshelf. He clearly had no idea what I did for leisure or relaxation, or seemed to assume I had some sort of dimensional pocket to lug about all sorts of wonders when we travelled. Considering the messes I frequently cleaned up after him, it was flattering, but that notwithstanding -
"Who's going to do all your paperwork?" I said, exasperated.
The king, crouched down on the ground, turned his head and looked me straight in the eyes. He blew a strand of hair out of his face. I realized with a start that he had fully withdrawn his demon energy, and there wasn't a single rune or marking on his face, nor anywhere else on his exposed skin.
I hadn't seen the king without his Toushin tattoos for a long time, and observing him before me now, in casual clothing, brought to mind the first time we had welcomed him to the Makai with all his meager possessions in the small bag dangling from his hand. I felt a twinge of nostalgia for all that had come to pass.
"Seizan can," the king said, bringing me back to the here and now. "He loves that shit! He'll blast through a hundred piles of forms like he's meditating to nirvana!"
He had a point, I supposed.
A questioning coo interrupted the king's antics, and a feathery blue phoenix head peeked around the corner, nudging at the king's shoulder.
"Sorry Puu," said the king, patting his spirit beast. "No can do. As soon as anyone sees you, our cover'll be blown and then it'll be goddamned flashes and recorders everywhere." He gently pushed the phoenix away. The spirit beast dipped its head, rubbing at his arm, then reluctantly drew back.
"Good boy," the king murmured softly, watching the bird wander off. "Speaking of which-" He reached down, opening his duffel, and rummaged around in it before throwing another bundle at me.
I looked at the object lying in my arms. "Really," I said, not amused.
"What, not your style?" the king said coolly, getting to his feet. "I get it. We can find another one along the way."
"I don't understand when I became part of this trip," I muttered.
"I told you, vacation's important," the king replied. "If anyone needs a break around here, it's you. And I know you won't go unless I make you."
"Which results in me wearing a wig," I said, holding up the blond relic. I wasn't even aware that he had kept it all this time, and to be honest part of me did marvel at its preservation. It was certainly a testament to how frighteningly durable Human World synthetics were. It looked nearly as it did at least a good century ago when the king first wore it, back when he was still running a ramen stand and taking odd side jobs.
"I already told you," the king repeated, placing his hands on his hips. "I don't wanna be chased by cameras. Your bald head is like a beacon. It's too obvious."
Two could play at this game, I decided.
"Well," I said reasonably, "by that logic, you'll be unrecognisable if we shave your head. That would be the most effective disguise to throw off the paparazzi."
The king bristled at the thought. To put it mildly.
Actually, he froze completely, becoming stock-still. Then his arms flew up, covering the top of his head. He wore such a disproportionately over-the-top expression of horror on his face that I nearly guffawed.
"Are you FUCKING CRAZY?!" he yelled. "NO. HELL NO. NO FUCKING WAY. Come one step closer and I swear to god I'll fucking hadouken you to Hyouga!"
I bit the inside of my cheek to prevent anything resembling a laugh, snicker, titter or whatnot from escaping. "It was only a suggestion, my Lord," I replied serenely, although, despite the sting in my mouth, I was unable to prevent my face from breaking into a half smile. "You can always sprout more hair easily when you enter full battle god state."
The king scowled fiercely at me, arms still wrapped around his head and protecting his precious locks. "You think you're funny, but you're not," he snarled, but there was no real heat behind it.
I folded my arms and set my features into a calm but stern expression. I raised an eyebrow at him, waiting for his own words sink into his thick skull.
The king paused. He slowly lowered his arms and folded them, mirroring my pose. His eyes slid to the side. He pouted, miffed. He looked up at me, then back down again. Finally, he tossed his head, the motion careless and aloof.
"... Alright, alright," he said. "You can stay bald. If you really want to. Just, wear a hat, or something."
I said nothing, maintaining an unmoved mask. After a while, the king shuffled his feet and sighed. "But you'd look better with hair."
I didn't reply.
"... Really. You'd look awesome. Kickass- no, badass."
I turned and started neatly folding the items he had tossed about, letting him know what the rational and responsible thought of his impulsive, ill-advised ideas.
"... It'll be fun. Honest." His tone was earnest, almost pleading.
I continued putting things away, ignoring him. I heard the king make another small, half-hearted sound, and out of the corner of my eye I could see him looking down at his feet abjectly, the strings of his duffel bag tangled in the fingers at his side, the little bag itself dragging sadly on the ground. And also, every so often, peeking hopefully at me out of the corner of his eye.
I considered this further as I restored order to my room. Certainly, decades ago, the king would have been much more thoughtless and devil-may-care with all of his whims, steamrolling over anything in his way. Granted, he still steamrolled over many things, but over the years we came to know each other, and live and work together, he had come to rely greatly on my support and advice. As open as the king appeared to be to anyone, not only his subjects, he tended to speak little of true feelings, and I knew I was among the very privileged few who could hold certain types of conversations with him, or receive certain thoughts in confidence.
And even the most deliberate and cerebral would admit that the king always brought a great deal of heart, not to mention unconventional and ingenious problem-solving, to any challenge.
The fact that he was standing there behind me right now, quietly allowing me to reverse all his enthusiastic handiwork (although, the fact that I was cleaning up a mess of my own possessions did not escape me entirely), recognizing that his wonderful plans (or lack thereof) were about to be completely undone, with nothing but the most tepid of protests - it spoke much of how his experiences and responsibilities had matured him.
If that was the word one wished to use. Heavy stone weights, shackles, and other such imagery along those lines crossed my mind.
What impact would all these little things have on the king, over time? How might they wear his spirit down? What kind of a king was I supporting with my actions? What kind of a king did I want? These thoughts began to eat at me.
In my attempts to avoid looking at the king, my gaze happened to fall upon a nearby calendar.
Only a week till Unification Day.
I felt an inkling of what King Yomi must have felt all those ages ago when my Lord first showed up on his doorstep, demanding tea and making his crazy proposition. And what he must have been feeling mere months later when he abruptly changed gears and began to take my Lord's proposal seriously as itself, instead of as a basis for a strategic ploy.
My mouth quirked, remembering my own reactions at the time. My Lord was certainly one of a kind.
I really shouldn't encourage him, I thought, doing a mental eye-roll - directed at myself, as much as it was at him. Perhaps more. But blowing off a bit of stream wasn't unreasonable. Both of us had been working hard, and things had become somewhat routine and mundane. And it had been at least a hundred years, and you certainly can't live that long around someone like the king without a little insanity rubbing off.
Or a lot.
I turned, picked up the bag he had given me earlier, and cleared my throat. The king peered up at me cautiously through his messy bangs. The resigned look in his eyes indicated he was anticipating a long lecture.
"Alright," I said with a sigh. "I'll wear one, but I'll select it myself. And we had best leave now before I realize I'm going mad."
The king blinked. Then he beamed brighter than the sun and launched himself at me, squeezing me in a tight hug. After letting go, he stepped back and high fived me. Or rather, he raised his hand, and I automatically half-raised my hand in a reflected, bemused gesture, and he smacked it eagerly with his palm.
"Great, it's a date! Portal ain't gonna wait!" He grabbed my arm. "Let's go!"
We passed a surprised Nankai in the hall; I made a mental note to apologize profusely to him for the whirlwind of confusion whenever we returned.
"Sayonara, sucker!" said the king cheerfully, tipping a two-fingers-to-the-temple salute as we flew by.
"We'll be gone for a month, or two, or maybe more," I barked at poor Nankai, trying to pass on two month's worth of organization in two chaotic seconds. "I've no idea where." I threw the master keys and the day's report at him, not unlike how the king had been flinging things at me earlier. "The king's room is a godforsaken disaster, just leave it! But lock the windows and the door! Tell Seizan he gets all the paperwork, cancel all the king's appointments, Touou can manage the patrols, if Puu looks sad, take him out to the gardens, or have him visit Lady Yukina at King Mukuro's! I'll call whenever we get a stable signal when we land!"
"Uh, ah, o-of course," Nankai stuttered, juggling the keys and report, eyes wide and bewildered. When we neared the gate, I heard him call from a window, "This is very unlike you, Hokushin, but I'm going to assume that's because it probably isn't! Good luck with His Majesty!"
Good luck indeed, I thought. We were running like mad; the nearest free portal was less than seven minutes from closing, and the king was intent on it. And in the history of this world, of all three Worlds, very few things had been able to deny the king what he wanted. Not the laws of the Spirit World, not the conventions of the Demon World, not human death itself, and most certainly not this one little portal, the last minor detail standing in the way between the king and his (temporary) freedom.
Sure enough, with 6 seconds left on the clock, we jumped.
Author's notes: My sis read this and said, "Yusuke has spent a hundred years perfecting his hangdog act."
After I wrote this I realized ... I dunno if Hokushin will actually get a vacation if he's with Yusuke. But maybe he'll enjoy it nonetheless. Maybe I'll write about Yusuke and his nanny's adventures in a future installation! (Oh wait, that's this whole project ...)
I'm determined to have every single named monk appear in at least one story. The only one I have left now is Touou; he's been mentioned in two pieces so far but hasn't technically actually appeared.
Dimensional pocket is a reference to Doraemon.
The wig is, of course, from Yusuke's volume 19 disguise.
Yusuke's hadouken comment is supposed to refer to the Spirit Wave (reikouhadouken), but it also sounds funny if you think of it as the other hadouken.
Re: hair, IMO Hokushin looks good with pretty much any hairstyle. If you'd like to see interpretations of this, you can check out some comics and drawings on my other social media sites! See the tumblr or pixiv links in my profile (username maiji), and look for things tagged hokushin. I can't post direct links here, so here's the closest I can get to directing to specific relevant posts on maiji tumblr (at the end of the URL, add a / and then the lines below to see the posts):
post/110367692739/i-always-wondered-if-hokushin-would-be-more
post/120267547189/idea-decades-later-yusuke-returns-to-the-makai
post/120862393399/in-between-waiting-for-demon-king-urameshi-bonus