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Epilogue
Present day.
Present time.
...Heh.
How the world must look to the gods. This thing so
tiny and transient, nothing more than an ephemeral anthill whose scrambling
movements blank out in the blink of an eye. Each aggregate a swarm of movement,
of little lives, little things that most people would never know.
San Francisco was a city of eight hundred thousand
people. Seven and a half million in the entire metro area. It moved with
a life like an internal light that refused to go out. Like its people were
propelled by a unique sort of energy. Their own sort of ethos. Even the
way they breathed seemed ever so slightly different than they were sure
the rest of the world was doing it.
This was the shopping district of Powell, a street
corner bookshop cafe. The lane beyond was wide and crowded with every manner
of traffic, with the streetcars tourists adored so much scuttling up and
down on their automated lines. Under a cloth overhang near the coffee bar,
amid racks of literary magazines, a man sat alone at a table. Legs crossed
anxiously, tapping trimmed nails on the arm of his chair because what his
lover is telling him on the phone was not soothing him much.
"Relax, Kou, it's only a layover," Dokugakuji said
gently. "It's one night in a quiet hotel, and then tomorrow you're off
to L.A. You won't have to see or talk to anyone."
"Well, I'm talking to people, Doku," Kougaiji countered,
and his blunted claws tapped even faster on the woodwork. "There's people
here. There's people everywhere. What if one of them..."
"Then you ignore them," his husband said. "You find
a quiet corner, and you calm down, and you let them go away. It's not that
likely you'll run into anyone anyway," he added.
"Yeah, but..."
"Hey, relax. Zari's there with you, isn't she?"
Kougaiji glanced nervously over his shoulder at
the innards of the book shop. "She's shopping."
"Shopping? She dragged you shopping?"
"I couldn't exactly say no."
"Learn to say no," Dokugakuji said firmly,
sounding a little exasperated. "I swear, Kou, you'd think women terrified
you."
"You mean they don't?"
The people walking past were a smooth blend of the
hyper tourist and the busy denizen, loud shoppers, friends and couples
of every shape that biology and inclination could design. The screams of
children would make Kougaiji jump in his chair now and then, though he
tried to suppress that these days.
He hated airport cities. Hated, hated airport
cities. Because he was always worried he'd run into someone he knew and
didn't want to see. More such people than there used to be, these days.
Kougaiji knew that it was irrational, that the odds
were against it, but paranoia had hit an upward slope once Dokugakuji had
started him back on time-decay memory. He just wasn't sure of a lot these
days. Even with the things he relearned, he knew that a lot of things were
dropping out of his head that he was never going to retrieve, and worst
of all, he would never realize what was missing until he needed to know
something and didn't.
Generally he could deal with it when Dokugakuji
was there with him, but on this particular trip they were hitting two strings
of universities concurrently, so they'd traveled separately. So while Doku
was trying to calm him down from an auditorium in New Jersey, Kougaiji
was suffering a mild panic attack at some kitsch bookshop in the thick
of California.
Still, he tried not to complain too vocally, when
he could help it. It was part of his self-laid punishment, after all. That
and some other things.
Out on the sidewalk, the foot traffic pulled viscously
along, the savvy and harried streaming around the dazed uninitiates stuck
like rocks in the flow. Most were dragged away and trusted the current.
Others struggled among their bags and cell phones and the impossible printed
street maps, but stumbled out of sight after a few moments anyway. No one
stayed anywhere too long in a river like this.
Kougaiji's eyes caught a woman, 30s or 40s, standing
with a pair of bored teenaged children while she struggled with a tourist
guide. The distress was obvious. The sun was mistreating her, no one here
spoke her language, her kids were off in their own world. Desperate, worn
and almost breaking down.
"Hey, I'll call you after dinner," Kougaiji said
to Dokugakuji.
"Phone sex?"
The king squirmed slightly. He still wasn't back
to being used to how Dokugakuji talked sometimes, or some of the things
the man threw at him when they were both in public, in one way or another.
That this was one of few cities where it wouldn't raise a single eyebrow
somehow didn't help any.
"But Zari--"
"--Can handle an emotional scar or two," Doku finished
for him. Kougaiji could just imagine the grin he wearing.
"Gods, you're horrible."
"Nine my time?"
"You bastard."
"Nine, then."
Dokugakuji laughed when he ended the call. The sound
generated a happy shudder down the king's spine. He wished he'd been given
some kind of warning.
It wasn't that he minded. No, he really didn't mind.
Really, really didn't mind that, at the very least, this new change
had given him back his sex life, but it was still hard to get used to.
He wasn't good at hiding the blush usually, either.
But the woman was still there out on the pavement,
so Kougaiji took a quick glance back at the shadows of the bookshop, smoothed
his suit, and stood up.
"Excuse me," he said to her in Malay, when he'd
moved into earshot. "I couldn't help noticing. Are you lost?"
The mother looked up at him in something nearly
shock. So much that she started stuttering out her answer in English. "Y-you
know to how get--"
"I'm fluent," he assured her. "Don't worry."
"Oh," she said as she switched over, visibly untensing.
"I-- That is, we've just come in with my husband and he said we had to
meet over on Miles Court, but..."
"That's easy," Kougaiji said. He guestured upstreet
with a hand. "Go north here until you reach California Street, then take
a right. It's about halfway before you get to Joice, on your left."
"Oh my," the woman gabbled. "Thank you so much.
Thank you."
"It's nothing."
"That was so quick of you to think of it. You must
know your city very well. Have you lived here long?"
"Oh, this isn't my city," he said. Bittersweet smile
as he felt the echo of the words. "I'm just visiting."
She walked away after that, still thanking him.
Relief like a paint coat washed over her face. He waved once, for the sake
of the thing, and watched until she was out of sight in the crowd, her
two children dragged behind her.
This was another part of his self-prescribed punishment.
Heaven had been silent about damning him, so he'd done what he could to
make his own penance. He tried to think of it as akin to collecting coins
off the ground in the hopes that it would fill a jar someday, except he
did more than pick up dimes. Sushma was always telling him how bad business
was, how his donations were exceeding his profits, and that it was a good
thing that he was his own revenue service because if not, some government
agencies would be looking quite closely at his affairs.
He didn't care. The money and businesses were just
a hobby anyway. His line would be secured so long as they didn't squander
things, and in the meantime, he owed the entire earth quite a bit of backpay.
Owed one girl quite a bit of backpay.
He hadn't seen her since that night, so many years
ago. That last image of her holding her gun to his face was still burned
in his brain, a slice of memory kept fresh as a reminder of just what he
was here to do. That hatred in her eyes had been more than deserved.
Kougaiji was sure there was nothing he could manage
even in another five hundred years to erase what he'd done, and he didn't
have that much time anyway. But he'd do all he could. That was his purpose
now. It was a lot easier to be conscious of good karma when you knew it
was going to someone else.
But he didn't want to see her again.
If he did, he knew it'd break everything. That he'd
start questioning again, about whether he really loved Dokugakuji as much
as he thought, or if he should really have let her go when he did. Because
every day he was still wondering. Even if he didn't mean to or want to.
Wondering where she was and how she was living. Because surely she was
living, and living her own life, independent of anything that had
come before. He'd been wrong to ever draw anything else from her.
And meanwhile, the memories that he'd held onto
so long, about Kouryuu, and Kouryuu's life-- those were all half gone,
and the rest were fading.
And he wasn't so sure they'd been that important
to keep with him in the first place.
That was life. It changed. Evolved, whether it wanted
to or not.
You couldn't help but be optimistic about something
like that.
Kougaiji refocused as something nudged his leg.
Collided, more like. He looked down.
It was a child. Tiny, barely two, a cherubic little
girl. With golden blonde hair and wide purple eyes and a pretty godling
face.
A face he knew.
No...
The pain wrenched inside him. Tearing deep, when
he bent over to see her better, and she blinked up at her with something
almost but not quite recognition. The same he'd seen before. That he hadn't
expected to see again. Not so soon.
He was too late.
Too late.
He hadn't saved her. Hadn't stopped karma from killing
her. She'd had a life with a future for once, everything aligning itself
to be hers and something had still killed her.
Kougaiji touched the child's hair with shaking fingers.
She giggled and grabbed at his wrist with her tiny little hands. Such tiny
little hands.
"I'm sorry." The words fell out of him. "Oh gods,
I'm so sorry..."
She didn't understand. Reached up trying to grab
at the beads of his earring, arm waving fitfully trying to reach. Missing,
hitting his shoulder, tangling in his hair, leaning closer--
"Jiawen! I said not to wander off."
Barked, chirruped Mandarin. Voice like a bell. The
girl left the earring aside and trotted away immediately, down the street.
Kougaiji's eyes followed her as she ran, skipping
down the sidewalk. Such an expert on her feet, even for such an age. Walking
to a stop before her mother, bent over to hoist her up and hold her in
her arms.
Xiao Shujuan smiled a little, behind her sunglasses.
She ended up meeting him halfway, since he somehow
wasn't able to walk just now. And they didn't stand too close. Some subconscious
thought in both of them knowing that there was a line there that shouldn't
be crossed. Not right now.
"I saw you on the news," Shujuan said, by way of
greeting. "Thought you were going to be in L.A. at that benefit."
"That's tomorrow."
"Must've read the date wrong, I guess."
Silence. The streetgoers chattered around them.
She'd aged well. California had been good to her.
Lightened her hair, darkened her skin, roughed it up a bit. He tried not
to notice that she'd filled out, but she had, in a very flattering way.
He bet no one mistook her for a boy anymore.
Her hair was longer too. Couldn't see just how long,
but he could tell from here that it was enough to braid it back. If it
was down to the middle of her back now, it would be even longer when she
was older. Whoever got to see it loose had to be a very lucky man. Or woman.
Or who knew what.
"So you're..."
"Working," she answered. "We all are."
"'All'?"
"Mm." She turned her head a little to help Jiawen
in her quest to steal away her mother's sunglasses. "It's under the table
mostly, since we don't want to get into the system. Wen's in computer repair.
The rest of us are sorta odd job guys."
"Who, um." He swallowed and tried again, failing
horribly to keep from staring at the child, presently burbling and trying
to wear the glasses on her nose. "Who's the..."
"Don't know," Shujuan answered happily.
He should have expected that.
"But what's it say on paper?"
"There are no papers."
"...There have to be papers. The records--"
"No records," she said proudly. She smiled at the
girl in her arms, nudged her cheek with her nose. "Nothing. She's just
her. She just is."
It was the strangest thing in the world to see,
this affection on Shujuan's face as she cuddled her daughter near her breasts.
A daughter. An actual daughter, something she created, something new that
none of the other incarnations had done before. She'd made a new life.
Kougaiji managed to shake his head, even still.
"You won't be able to manage that."
"How do you know? 'Cause everything has to be recorded
somewhere? Nothing's real unless it says so on paper?"
The king ducked his head. She just had to put it
like that.
"...But you're doing okay," he said finally.
"Yeah," she said lightly, nodding with consideration.
"Yeah, pretty much." Awkwardly, "You?"
"Well."
"You've aged," Shujuan noted.
"Thanks, I think."
"It looks good on you."
A gentle compliment. Nothing behind it. Sanzo used
to do those too. But then again, so did a lot of other people Kougaiji
knew.
It was unfortunate it wouldn't have been right to
tell her likewise. That she was beautiful. Even though he'd really like
to have said it. Maybe more than anything, right then.
A hand touched his arm.
"Grandfather," Zari announced by his side, skipping
up from behind him, curls bobbing around her ears. "I'm finished at the
bookstore."
Kougaiji was sure that the look on Shujuan's face
was much the same that he had worn a few minutes ago. It was a bit unsettling
to see her eyebrows arch up like that, though.
"Ah. Shujuan, I don't believe you've met my great-granddaughter..."
He wasn't really surprised by the expression. It
had been shock enough when he'd met Zari. One of the many consquences
of falling out of touch with family and then struggling to get back in.
And even after a few years in her company, he'd yet to see anything in
her that resembled him, be it physical or character. She got on well with
Ruli, though.
"Hello!" Zari chirriped, bouncing a little in her
sundress.
"...She'll be taking over for me when I'm gone,"
Kougaiji added, smiling faintly.
"Um. Can she?"
It was complicated to answer. Kougaiji smiled and
settled for the simple version. "Times aren't what they were, you know,"
he reminded her. "Some things are able to change."
Shujuan nodded. Seemed she could accept that.
Zari peered at her. And then squeaked, delighted.
"Oh wow," she said, switching to Mandarin. "You're that person from the
painting!"
The blonde started at that. She shot an accusatory
glance to king. "I thought the news said you'd burned it."
"Not that one," the little girl giggled. "It was
all old and boring anyway. Grandfather started a new one," she drawled,
oozing pride. "It's so pretty. He made you too young, though. Grandfather,
didn't you make her too young?"
The king's mouth twitched. Shujuan was still staring
something deadly. "It's sort of artistic license, honey..."
"And your eyes," Zari continued. "He got your eyes
wrong."
"No I didn't," Kougaiji tried to protest, unbalanced.
"Yuh-huh. See? Look. You put too much purple in
them. Hers've got more gray. See?"
He did see, now that it'd been pointed out to her.
They weren't at all the shade they'd been when he'd first seen her.
That was his fault. He'd done that to her.
"I'm sorry," he told Shujuan.
She shook her head. "No, it's okay."
"You should model for him," the girl was carrying
on. "Grandfather, shouldn't she come and model for you? We could invite
her to the castle. Would you like to? It'd be wonderful for you to visit."
Shujuan beamed down at her politely. "No. I don't
think it'd be right."
"Aw, but..."
Zari pouted for a little while more, but gave up
on it. Such was the beauty of attention deficiency. She pulled at Kougaiji's
jacket sleeve. "Grandfather," she coddled, back in Afrikaans. "Could you
lend me some money? I've already spent all that you gave me and I really
wanted this new comic..."
Kougaiji couldn't help himself. "If you've spent
it all, can't the comic wait?"
His granddaughter whined, "But it's a new
one and it's my favorite series and this place is the only
store in this whole stupid town that has it and all the other
girls will have it first and I want it, Grandfather!"
She was holding it up for him, probably lent on
good faith from the register, unless she'd mind-tricked him into letting
her take it it while she went to find her cash dispenser. She was embarrassingly
good at suggestion, his little protege.
He frowned at the cover. Another one of those Japanese
series, the historical fantasy kind with the effeminate men. He'd never
understand what she--
"Gk--!"
Kougaiji reached forward and pushed Zari's hands
down out of sight, before Shujuan could get a good look at the title.
"Ah," he managed nervously, flushing red. "You go
back to the register, dear, and I'll be along in a moment. All right?"
Smugly satisfied with her victory, Zari spun off
and ran back to the shop, sandals clap-clapping on the pavement.
Shujuan might have eyed him curiously, but it was
only for a moment. Her watch beeped on her wrist and she looked down distractedly.
"Oh," she murmured, seeming to remember something. By her shoulder, Jiawen
kicked and giggled, fiddling with the hooks of her mother's glasses.
"Hey, I gotta get going," Shujuan continued, looking
back up at him. "You should probably get back with your granddaughter anyway."
"Right," Kougaiji agreed. A little unwillingly.
"So I'll see y..."
No. They wouldn't.
Shujuan forced the smile anyway. She took her sunglasses
back from her daughter and clipped them to her shirt, readjusting little
Jiawen in her arms as she walked upstreet. Stopped when she was almost
shoulder to shoulder with the king, their eyes meeting again, closer and
more honest now, less room to hide.
"You know... Kou," she said, almost hesitating on
the name. "Um. What I said, that one time. When I met you on the street
the morning before everything bad happened..."
Kougaiji shook his head. "I can't remember it,"
he told her honestly. "Why? What was it?"
"...Nothing," she said. Forced her smile brighter.
"It was nothing.
"Goodbye, Kou."
They didn't kiss. Didn't shake hands, or touch at
all. And then she was up the street, walking away. Falling out of sight.
He started back for the shop.
Then,
"Kou!" A child's voice. The baby's. "Kou! Kou-kou!"
Kougaiji turned. Jiawen was waving at him, over
her mother's shoulder.
The mom looked back and laughed. A beautiful sound.
"I think she likes you," said Xiao Shujuan, with
a warm, real smile this time.
And then she walked away. And he let her go. Disappear
into the crowds, the flow, the stream of the city streets. Gone out of
his life, just the way she'd come.
As it should be.
With a child that was no one but herself, and the
only way for her to make it was a path she forged on her own.
She'll grow up strong like her mother.
She'll grow up beautiful.
And everything else that might happen,
that's completely up to her.
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epilogue/first draft finished at: 03:55, 19 August 2005