Gravitation -- Riku and the Beanstalk (Riku-centric)
Once upon a time, in a land not very far away at all, there was a city called New York. It was a very crowded, very busy city, filled with very busy people who stressed about work and money and facts and the lack of time. They spent their days running around, paying no attention to anyone or anything around them, except when they asked “Would you get out of my way?” or “Do you have the time?”
But living in this city, there was also a boy. A little boy. A little boy who didn’t yet know how to tell time, because he never cared enough to learn. And he didn’t yet have a job, because he was too small. And he found facts too suffocating and depressing, and so he preferred to use his imagination more than anything else.
His name was Riku Kitazawa and he lived with his aunt Yoshiki in a very tall apartment in the busiest part of the city. His aunt loved neither facts nor imagination, but rather, she liked to spend time at home watching soap operas and the fashion channel. Riku loved his aunt, but the two of them together made for a rather quiet home, and sometimes he found himself wishing for someone to talk to him. He wasn’t terribly good at making conversation, but he enjoyed listening to people.
He did have a neighbor, who he listened to whenever he could. His name was Yuji and he was trying to become a Broadway actor, so not only did he like to talk, but he also had a great deal of imagination that almost rivaled Riku’s own. He told Riku many stories and always left him with the feeling that all the ordinary things in the world were truly magical.
One day, Yuji gave Riku a handful of beans, which he’d found in the back of his cabinet.
“They’re magic beans,” he said as he dropped them into the young boy’s hand. “Do you want to know what their power is?”
“Yes,” Riku breathed in awe.
“Plant them,” he said, closing the boy’s fingers around them, “and you will never want for anything for the rest of your life.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know, that just sounded good.” Yuji shrugged. “Try it and see.”
Unfortunately, Riku never had a chance to plant them. For once he got home and showed his aunt his magical treasure, she took one look at them and said, “Oh, you don’t want those, Riku, honey. Beans aren’t tasty at all.” Before Riku could blink, the beans were snatched from his palm and tossed carelessly out the window. He was disappointed for a minute or two, but he was a little boy and thusly, was soon distracted and forgot about them.
The beans landed on the head of one of the busiest, most stressed men in the city, Mr. Sakano. Normal beans would’ve bounced off, practically unnoticed. But these, remember, were magic beans. And the impact of magic beans could knock a person out cold, which is precisely what happened to poor Mr. Sakano. And then a truly miraculous thing took place.
When Riku awoke in the morning, he saw something odd outside. He went to his window, opened it, and found that, overnight, his beans had grown into a giant beanstalk that reached all the way past his apartment building and up, up into the clouds. He hurriedly ran to tell his aunt, but she was watching her shows and laughed when she said, “Don’t be silly, Riku, honey. There’s no such thing as a giant beanstalk.”
Riku left her to the television and, returning to his open window, considered the situation carefully for exactly ten seconds before he began climbing the beanstalk. He’d been climbing for two minutes at most when the stalk started to shake and shiver underneath his hands. It quivered and twisted and squirmed around until the face of Mr. Sakano materialized on the stalk, right before Riku’s eyes, complete with glasses and a perpetually furrowed brow.
“What are you doing? Where are you going?” the face asked him, sounding concerned.
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?” The face took on a mortified expression. “You should never go anywhere without knowing where it is you are going! It’s very dangerous!”
“Oh.” Riku considered this for a moment. “That’s okay.”
He started to climb up again and the face paled considerably.
“W-Wait! Don’t be so reckless! Listen to me!” The face’s voice grew hushed and Riku had to pause in order to hear. “Up there, at the top of this stalk, there lives a giant.”
Riku climbed back down a bit, until he was eye level with the face, more intrigued by the warning than frightened.
“A giant? Really?”
“Yes, yes! A mean, horrible, evil, man-eating giant!” The face calmed and tried to speak in a voice that was soothing and persuasive. “Now, really, you should go back to your nice, safe home and watch some educational TV.”
Riku nodded and the face sighed in relief-until Riku continued to climb upwards again.
“Wh-What are you doing?!”
“If it’s a man-eating giant, I’ll be okay. I’m just a boy.”
“B-But, that’s the same thing!”
But the warnings and protests were all in vain. Riku kept climbing and climbing and climbing until he was far, far over the tallest of the New York buildings, and was well into the clouds. And finally, he reached the very top of the stalk, and he found that the clouds there made for a solid surface that he was able to walk upon. As he stood and adjusted to the altitude, he gazed with wide wonder at the large and looming dwelling that was before him. It was fancier than a house or a flat, but not as extravagant as a mansion or a castle. Riku was not intimidated by its size, because he was in an adventurous sort of mood, and he made his way across the clouds until he stood directly in front of the tall door. He regarded it thoughtfully, wondered if it was locked, and realized that it wouldn’t matter if it was locked or not, because he wasn’t big enough to open it. He presently found that he was small enough to slip underneath it; there was a bit of a squeeze halfway through, but he managed, and came out safely on the other side.
Once inside, Riku had no doubt that the talking face on the beanstalk was right. Everything in the house was so tall, so big, that it could only belong to a giant.
“Halt, intruder!” A voice suddenly snapped. “Be you beast or be you thief?”
“I’m neither,” Riku said, looking around to find the origin of the voice. He could see no one.
“Speak up!”
“He said he’s neither!” A second voice piped up. It sounded as if it came from a basket of the shiniest and largest eggs Riku had ever seen. One of the eggs moved then, and Riku could see that-much like the beanstalk-it was graced with an actual face. The face smiled at Riku, looking slightly apologetic. “Don’t mind him. He’s kept in such a high place, he sometimes has trouble hearing properly.”
Riku looked up and noticed that there was a goose sitting on a nest on what looked like a kitchen counter. Riku wasn’t sure if giants had kitchens, or used counters, so he couldn’t be too sure.
“Oh!” He exclaimed in wonder. “How elegant you are!”
The goose smiled-as much as a goose could-and preened proudly.
“How kind of you to notice. Yes, it seems that even being kept prisoner with the likes of that talking egg and the singing harp hasn’t tarnished my grace.”
“Prisoner?”
“Oh, please!” A third voice laughed. “You could fly down and get out of here anytime you wanted to! And quite easier than the rest of us.”
“And if I’m such a nuisance, you shouldn’t have hatched me,” the egg sniffed indignantly.
“What did you say?”
“Oh, you heard me, you…”
“Excuse me,” Riku politely interjected, catching the egg’s attention. “But where did that third voice come from?”
“The singing harp,” the egg explained. “He’s on the table. The legs are fairly easy to climb, if you’d like to meet him.”
Riku nodded in thanks and proceeded to do exactly that. When he reached the top of the table, he saw a glorious, sparkling harp that also possessed a face-friendly and fairly attractive.
“Hello,” he greeted the harp, well aware that he was staring, but unable to do much about it.
“Hello,” the harp replied; even the simple word sounded like music. “Who are you?”
“I’m Riku.” He held out his hand and the harp giggled. Slipping his hand into his pocket, he added, “Riku Kitazawa.”
All three inhabitants of the room gasped in perfect unison. Riku looked around at them questioningly; their eyes had gone wide and they’d all turned a little pale.
“You,” the goose started, swallowing nervously. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“You should leave,” the egg said, “before the master finds you.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” He turned to the harp, who was watching him with an expression of sympathy and sadness.
“You mean you don’t know? I-I wouldn’t even know how to tell you…”
But before the harp could begin to try, Riku heard the sound of a door being opened and closed, somewhere further into the house, followed by loud footsteps.
“You must hide,” the harp whispered urgently. “Quickly!”
Riku looked around the room, unsure of where to go and not knowing how to get down from the table. Fortunately, the goose was a quick thinker, and he flew from his perch and lifted Riku into the air, setting him down in his nest, where the straw and feathers effectively hid him from view. He was just in time, for as soon as he carefully sat down again, the giant emerged.
He was tall, as Riku knew he would be, but he wasn’t nearly as terrifying as he’d imagined. He looked, simply, like a very tall man-a man that Riku could see walking down the streets of New York. He was slightly pale, with flaxen hair, and eyes the color of the sun, which were partially covered by glasses. The eyes were actually the scariest part of the giant, for while they resembled the sun, they were as bitingly cold as the ice of the Arctic; Riku felt a chill just looking at them. Combined with the mean scowl that decorated the giant’s face, the effect was a bit frightening.
He could tell by the stiff way the goose was sitting that he, too, was intimidated by the giant’s presence; the egg, even, was silent. But the harp addressed him as easily as a parent addresses a child.
“Someone’s grumpy today.”
“Shut up. If you had to spend your days writing crap for lonely, unimaginative, middle-aged giant housewives, you’d feel the same.”
“Oh Eiri, no one’s forcing you to be a writer.”
“No one’s forcing you to be stupid.”
“Aw, you must be having a bad day. That was hardly up to par with your normal insults.”
The giant, Eiri, sat down at the table, sighing wearily and removing his glasses. Riku, awed by how casual the pair acted together, watched with growing interest as the giant turned the harp to face him.
“I’m exhausted. Sing for me?”
Sweetly, the harp replied, “I thought you’d never ask.”
And then the harp began to sing-a beautiful, tender tune that Riku had never heard, but was sure he wouldn’t forget. It was the loveliest music he’d ever heard. No one made a single sound as the harp sang; Eiri’s eyes slowly closed, and by the time the song was done, he was asleep, his head pillowed by his folded arms atop the table.
“He doesn’t seem that bad,” Riku whispered from his hiding spot.
“He never does when he’s with his harp,” the goose replied. “But believe me, you don’t want him to catch you here.”
“Okay.” Riku untangled himself from the straw and looked up at the goose thoughtfully. “Do you wanna come with me?”
The goose looked at him as if he had just offered the entire world on a silver platter. Riku was allowed to climb atop the goose’s back and, with hardly a second glance back, they flew out of a window. Riku guided the goose back down the stalk, waving as they passed the face who was sobbing in relief, until they reached his bedroom window.
When he was alone with his new friend, Riku discovered that not only could the goose could not only talk, but laid golden eggs, as well. He thought back to the talking egg then, and realized that explained the abnormal shininess of the shell.
“Is that why the giant was keeping you prisoner?”
“One would think so, wouldn’t one?” The goose huffed. “No, he doesn’t care about that.”
The goose didn’t offer any more than that, so Riku decided to ask another question that had been plaguing him.
“What was the harp going to tell me, before the giant came in?”
The goose turned his head away, feigning interest in Riku’s small room, reluctant to answer. Eventually, however, he sighed and gave in. He told Riku the story of a man-a man from New York City-who found his way into the giant’s home. He stayed there for quite some time, befriending Eiri and gaining his trust. But one day, that man snuck into Eiri’s cooking supplies and tried to poison the giant; he had plans to return to New York with the giant’s head, along with his magical possessions, and become the city’s hero. But the human’s poison wasn’t strong enough to kill Eiri, and the man paid for his betrayal with his life.
“That man’s name,” the goose finished, “was Yuki Kitazawa.”
The name silenced Riku; it’d always had that effect. He didn’t hear it often, but he knew it well. Yuki Kitazawa was his father. He had no memories of him, and his family never said much about him; he’d never even been told how he’d died. Until now.
“I’m sorry,” the goose murmured. “I wish the harp could’ve been the one to tell you. I’ve never been very good at delivering unfortunate news.”
“No,” Riku shook his head, approaching the goose to wrap his tiny arms around his long and slender neck. “Thank you.”
Riku’s aunt Yoshiki was initially delighted by the magic goose, and especially the golden eggs. But her attention span was short and, after one or two shopping sprees, she returned to her spot on the living room couch, to catch up with her shows. The goose didn’t take kindly to being ignored, so Riku took him next door to Yuji’s apartment, where he knew he’d be appreciated. And indeed, the goose was much happier there, with the enthralled and awestruck actor fawning over him.
The days passed pleasantly, but soon the temptation of the beanstalk-still extremely present outside the bedroom window-was too much for Riku to pass up. So one afternoon, he once again made the long climb up to the giant’s home. He slipped under the door and waited a moment, listening carefully to make sure the giant wasn’t nearby. Once he was satisfied, he called out a cheerful, “Hello!”
“Hey, it’s the kid again!” The golden egg grinned at him in welcome.
“Hi there!” The harp greeted him from his spot on the table. “How’s Goose?”
“Yeah, we miss that fastidious fowl!”
“We do?”
“He’s fine,” Riku said, and told them about how well the goose and his neighbor got along. He also informed them that the goose had told him about his father and the giant.
“And you still came back?” The egg whistled, impressed. “You’ve got guts.”
“I came back,” Riku explained, “to help you escape, too. Both of you.”
The egg’s smile weakened and he looked up at the harp, who was averting his eyes.
“We appreciate it,” the egg said. “But how would you manage that?”
“I don’t know.” Riku shrugged. “But I can do it. I’ve got to.”
Before anything else could be said, Riku heard the familiar sound of the giant approaching. He quickly climbed into the basket of eggs and hid, just in time once again.
“Good afternoon, sunshine,” the harp cooed, receiving a grunt in response as Eiri took his seat at the table. “Did you finish your next book?”
“No. I can’t decide to end it with the lovers falling to their deaths or committing double suicide using each other’s pillowcases.”
“Yeah, that’s a difficult one.” The harp giggled. “So, you want me to sing you into a dream-filled slumber to inspire you?”
“Something like that.”
Just as before, the harp’s song was beautiful and tender and a calming, silencing effect on the entire room. And just as before, the song lulled the giant into a peaceful sleep. Peeking out from his hiding place, Riku decided that the first thing he needed to do was get the harp down from the table. So, he climbed up onto the table and, stepping quietly so as not to wake the giant, he approached the harp, trying to figure out how he was going to carry him.
“Riku,” the harp whispered, “I don’t mind being here, really. Eiri’s no Prince Charming, but-”
“You aren’t scared he’s going to kill you? Like my dad?”
“Your dad-” The harp tried to sound gentle, out of respect. “-was going to kill him first.”
After a pause, Riku nodded. He couldn’t deny that it was true.
“He isn’t mean to you?”
“Sure he is.”
“And you don’t want to leave?”
“Well, I-”
“Do you have any idea how noisy you are?” A third voice whispered.
Riku jumped and turned around; he found himself staring straight into the icy golden eyes of Eiri, who was wide awake and who didn’t look very pleased.
“Who the hell are you and what are you doing here?”
Riku felt frozen to the spot. The giant’s eyes were like daggers, and he felt certain that any words he said, any explanation he gave, would not matter in the end. The harp and the egg quickly jumped to his defense.
“Eiri, he’s only a boy-”
“An adventurous little boy with time on his hands-”
“He’s just come to chat-”
“He means no harm-”
“His name’s Riku-”
“Such a friendly name-”
“Riku Kitazawa-”
“Kitazawa?!”
“Oops.”
“Well done, Harp…”
Riku remained still as Eiri looked him up and down, eyes hard and intent, searching, comparing, and slowly recognizing.
“You’re Yuki’s son?”
Riku nodded, still not trusting himself to speak. He saw a flash of something cross the giant’s expression-something new, off, out of place, something human. He leaned back in his chair, wearily, lowering his eyes.
“He had a son,” he muttered, sounding only slightly surprised and more regretful than anything else. “A son…”
“Eiri?” The harp looked concerned.
Ignoring him, the giant shifted and looked down and addressed the golden egg.
“You told me the goose decided to fly south for the winter, you little liar. I should scramble you.”
“Can you scramble a golden egg?” The harp asked.
“You shut up,” the giant snapped, turning his eyes on the harp, who gulped audibly. “I can’t believe you kept this from me.”
“He was afraid,” Riku managed to speak up, even when Eiri looked at him again, “because he didn’t want to make you mad. He wants you to be happy, that’s why he sings for you.” He glanced at the harp once before continuing, “That’s why he’s here.”
“That may be so,” the giant said. “But you’ve come to take him, haven’t you?”
Riku hesitated, for while that had been his intention, he was loathe to admit such a thing to the giant’s face.
“Go ahead.” Eiri waved his hand dismissively. “Take him. Him and the egg. They don’t matter to me.”
“You say that so easily!” The harp cried, obviously hurt.
“Because it’s true. Take them. Take them and go.”
Riku nodded and turned again to the harp, who looked about ready to cry, if harps had that ability. Riku began to walk towards the instrument, but paused before he reached him. He turned back to giant, who was watching him with a look of disinterest.
“I don’t think,” Riku began softly, “that you’re very evil at all.”
The harp and the egg both looked at Eiri, curious to see his reaction. He stared at Riku for a moment before frowning slightly.
“Of course I am. Don’t be stupid. I killed your father, kid.”
“But did you mean to?” Riku asked. “Or were you just mad at him?”
Eiri’s eyes went wide with surprise and Riku knew that he was right. He stepped closer to the giant as he continued.
“It’s okay to kill one person on accident, as long as you feel bad about it and learn a lesson from it.”
The giant scoffed, “I haven’t learned anything. I could kill you right now without a second thought.”
“Then do it,” the harp dared, the egg nodding in agreement.
“…No.” Eiri turned his head, crossing his arms defiantly. “I’m not in the mood.”
“See?” Riku smiled. “You’re good. You’re not evil. You’re just grumpy because you spend so much time pretending to be.”
“You’re wasting time. Just take what you came for.”
“No,” Riku shook his head. “I won’t take them from you, because they want to stay.” Taking a deep breath, he added, “And so do I.”
Eiri’s eyes met his and his stare was harsh, irritated, and for a moment, Riku feared being rejected. But then his expression softened, his annoyance wilting, his iciness melting, replaced by a gentle confusion.
“Why would you…?” He broke their eye contact, running a hand through his fair hair-feigned frustration. “Do what you want.”
Riku smiled and, though the giant did not return it, he could tell that he was far from displeased. And so, Riku lived in the large house in the clouds, finding adventure in every room, rolling the golden egg along with him as his companion. On occasion, he would climb down the stalk to share his stories with his aunt, the magic goose, and his neighbor, and they would always allow him to return without a fuss. And in the evenings, he would curl up in the giant’s large hand-Eiri protested by threatening to crush him every time-and the harp would sing them sweetly to sleep.
And in this way, they all lived happily ever after.