Saiyuki: nitro Test Tube Storys (p1-17)
Here's the beginning of the nitro Test Tube Storys booklet from Saiyuki Festa '09!
This is Minekura Sensei's introduction, plus the first of the short stories, "Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log" [最湯記]. Goku introduces us to his wacky family (assorted Saiyuki characters) who run the local public bath house.
Nitro Test-Tube Storys by Minekura Kazuya
Minekura Kazuya here. Thank you so much for picking up this humble book.
... It’s been a terribly long time since I’ve published a doujinshi, and I was incredibly panicked. Plus, I was told not to include any pictures or manga. And I only had a few days before publishing (that was my break from work, too). This book is the product of about one day’s work... To add to my panic, the freedom I had this time (in procedures for submitting the script and the like) were quite different from when I used to write doujinshi, so I was constantly fluttering about. I’m sorry if there are a lot of spelling errors... But it was fun.
Minekura characters other than those in Saiyuki appear in this book, unlike the other two books that were issued simultaneously. The “Backgammon” circle originally wasn’t only Saiyuki, but also encompassed the Kubo Toki series and Busgamer (although Honeycomb wasn’t created then), and I wanted to make at least one book that said, “This is Backgammon!” The stories collected here fundamentally revolve around Saiyuki, and of course I hope that Saiyuki readers enjoy them, but I also hope that these stories spark an interest in my other characters as well.
I hope this is an entertaining book.
=============
“The extraordinary is an adventure”
Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log (1)
This is a record of the incredibly ordinary lives of a family who runs a certain downtown public bath house.
Saiyuki Character Map
”Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log” is a parallel universe born from a project on the MinekuraKazuya.net cell page. Minekura herself came up with this result in response to the question “What if the Minekura characters were family members?” (laughs). For more detailed information, please see MinekuraKazuya.net.
MinekuraKazuya.net PC site: http://www.minekura.net/pc/index.html
============
This happened while I was still in elementary school. I got a homework assignment to “write an essay about your family”, and I received two pages of 400-character essay sheets (2) to write it on. Sitting with those pages in front of me, I had no clue what to do.
My family’s run a public bath ever since my great grandpa’s generation. Grandpa Sanzo works the front desk, and Grandma died young. Grandpa’s son, my dad, is a cameraman and always flying around the world. My mother died right after giving birth to me. I’ve got a punk brother who’s four years older than me. At the time, my aunt Kana-nee was living with us and was in charge of the chores... Also, I have an uncle Nobu-nii who only rarely comes home...
It’s not impossible, but writing an essay on “My Family” in a mere 800 characters is unthinkable. I’d use them all up on just the character introductions.
How much fun and how lively are our everyday lives? How much do I love this family?
I could never finish writing about that.
Chapter 1: Genjo Family Mornings
When a Kamchatka youth
Is dreaming of giraffes,
A Mexican girl is waiting for the bus
In the morning haze.
That was a poem called “Morning Relay” that was in my Japanese text book the other day. ...I don’t particularly like poetry or haiku, but every morning for some reason, this thought pops into my head: far beyond the earth beneath my feet... right now, on the other side of the world, it’s night.
And, no matter how endlessly long the night seems, morning will always come.
~~~~
A bell rings out from somewhere far away, as though marking the end of a dream. Streaming in diagonally through a gap in the blue checked curtains is a white veil of light, brilliantly bright. As I awake, the cells in my chest vaguely acknowledge that it’s morning.
I get up, twist at the waist, and wipe away some drool. It kinda feels like I was having a really intense, fantastic dream; the inside of my mouth is all dry. When I look for the source of the ringing noise echoing from far away, I see my alarm clock has fallen from beside my pillow and is desperately ringing from the space between the wall and my pipe-frame bed. ...Well, I probably tossed it down there.
Rescuing the alarm clock, I stop the bell. Once I do, I can hear Grandpa Sanzo’s recitations resonating across the small garden downstairs. His voice travels well, low, like a real monk’s. This morning he’s doing “Taneda Santouka’s Heart Sutra” (3). He must be in a good mood to be reciting that one first thing in the morning.
“The weather’s nice, too...”
When I push back the curtain, the square of sky framed by the aged sash is a cool, clear autumn blue, reaching out endlessly. Seeing that soft blue, I stretch contentedly. Still wearing the T-shirt that I slept in, I leave my room and head down the creaking, decrepit staircase. Half-way down, I meet my uncle coming up the stairs.
“Morning Hakkai!!”
“Good morning Goku.”
My uncle, who looks too young to be called ‘uncle’, feels like a freshly washed shirt. He gives me a refreshing smile fit for a laundry detergent commercial and says, “I’m glad you always wake up easily, Goku.”
“What d’you... Oh, you’re going to wake up Gojyo.”
“Yes. I always tell him we should all eat breakfast together, at the very least.”
“I’ll go wake him up. You go back to the kitchen, Hakkai.”
Before Hakkai can give me his gentle ‘thank you’, I turn around and rhythmically creak my way back up the narrow staircase. I pass my own room and stop in front of the next door. Here and there, the varnish is peeling off the old wooden frame. I knock three times as hard as I can. ...That might be one reason the varnish is peeling.
“Goooojyooo!”
There’s no response, even when I crack open the door and call. I carelessly shove the door open, but it catches on something with a thump. The mountain of magazines heaped shapelessly on the floor has fallen, spilling over the black carpet.
“... stinks.”
One step in and the room reeks of stale booze and sweat, mixed with the faint noxious fumes of a peculiar brand of cigarette. ...It’s a little bit like the remembered smell of my dad’s room. The morning sun is pretty much unable to pierce the black curtains, leaving the room in shadow. A head topped with almost unnaturally red hair peeks out of the matching monochrome blankets on top the black pipe-frame bed.
“It’s morning. Wake up Gojyo.”
I plant one foot on the blanket over my brother’s back and shake. I’m not lazy. When I was in elementary school I used to belly flop onto Gojyo’s back to wake him up, but I graduated from suddenly jumping on a sleeping guy’s back ever since I heard some radio show’s story about some kids jumping on their father’s back and snapping his morning wood in half. ...Just hearing such a terrifying story is enough to make any man’s balls shrink in fear.
“...Urrr...” Bodily shaken blankets and all, Gojyo lets out a growl, still facing the wall.
“Get up Gojyo! Breakfast!!”
“...Don’t kick me, you stupid monkey!” Suddenly a long, bare arm bursts out of the blankets seeking revenge on my foot.
“That wasn’t my foot, it was my hand just now.”
When my lie rings hollow, Gojyo slowly turns to face me, one eyebrow raised in a ‘punk glare’. As long as he stays quiet, Gojyo’s clear-cut features can usually offset the vulgarity that otherwise seeps out.
“...That was your foot.”
“It was my hand. You’re just confused ‘cause you’re still half-asleep.”
“...... tch,” Gojyo clicks his tongue as though to say he doesn’t care, then buries his face in his big pillow.
Normally I can’t lie or keep secrets, but with Gojyo I can be bratty like this. It’s not because we don’t get along. Actually, compared to the other brothers of the world, we get along rather well. I think we’re more like friends, unconcerned with the age difference between us.
“C’mon, it’s breakfast.”
“...Don’t care. What time do you think I got home...”
“You don’t wanna eat?”
“No.”
“Hakkai’s gonna be mad.”
“..........” Gojyo goes as silent as if I’d delivered him a death sentence.
I turn my back on him and leave the room. “Well, I woke you up, like I said I would.”
...Eh, Gojyo’ll probably get up soon, once he thinks about it for a while.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth in the upstairs bathroom, I go back to my room and quickly change into my blazer-style school uniform. I always forget how to tie the necktie, so I never undo it. After pulling the tie down around the collar of my shirt, I lightly tug the knot up. My beat-up back pack is mostly empty of text books, and I throw it over my left shoulder before dashing down to the kitchen, called by the smell of roasting fish. When I get there, there are already two men seated at the table.
“Morning Grandpa.”
“...Yeah.”
Grandpa Sanzo glances up from behind his newspaper and looks sharply at me through his reading glasses. ...He’s definitely in a good mood today; he responded quickly, and his naturally intense gaze is gentle... but I don’t think many strangers would be able to tell the difference.
“Morning Ten-chan. ‘M surprised you’re up this early.”
“...I just finished a deadline.......”
The novelist has listlessly draped one arm over the back of his chair, and is carrying his coffee to his mouth as he tiredly smokes a short cigarette. Even though his eyes are barely half-open behind his slightly outdated green-black glasses and he’s staring off into the distance, the corners of his slackened mouth are curled up in a tiny smile. It’s eerie.
It’s probably ‘post-work repose’, but I don’t think he knows he’s smiling. Even his features, that some might call glamorous, are too much to look at. His semi-long black hair, mussed after staying up all night, shines... with oil.
Slipping through the dining room, I enter the Japanese-style room behind it and plop down on my knees before the wooden butsudan in the corner. I pick up the wand and ring the pale gold ‘bell’ atop the plump cushion. A clear, comforting sound rings throughout the room, and before the sound can disappear I clap my hands together before our home altar. That’s been my tradition ever since I was a kid.
I look up at the two small photographs discretely displayed behind the flower arrangement. One photo is of Grandma, the other is of Kana-nee -- my aunt Kanan.
I’d never met Grandma Konzen, but looking at the small black-and-white photo, I can see a likeness to Grandpa Sanzo. They say married couples look alike; now that I think about it, Kana-nee and Hakkai are very similar too. ...Even though the time they spent actually married was only about two years.
~~~~
My uncle Hakkai married into the Genjo family when I was in 7th grade. One day without any warning whatsoever, Kana-nee, who managed the bath house’s finances on top of seeing to all the household chores, suddenly said, “I’m going to marry this man,” and brought home a nice, handsome guy. That made all of us do a double-take. Turns out those two had been dating since college, but no one in the family even knew Kana-nee had had a boyfriend. Not even a lever or a tower crane could move Kana-nee once she got an idea, so in the blink of an eye she got Grandpa’s permission and was married.
...This is Kana-nee I’m talking about, so maybe she had some sort of premonition. She left this world in a sudden traffic accident, never having had a child. She left behind her family and her beloved husband who became the ‘young owner’ of the bath house to struggle admirably through her loss.
Even as time passed, the Genjo family remained locked in an endless night. I learned how big an impact one member’s existence had on the rest of the family. Even though my mother’s photo isn’t displayed in the butsudan (Dad refused to put it up)... I think when my mom died, it must have been kind of like that. No matter how brightly we went about, it was like this indestructible darkness covered our house and blotted out the sun.
On the eve of Kana-nee’s 49th day memorial (4), Grandpa Sanzo said this to Hakkai:
“No one would blame you if you left this house.”
...The next morning, Hakkai woke up everyone like normal, stood in the kitchen like normal, and said to us, “May I buy a teflon-coated frying pan?” like normal. He said it with such a normal smile, Grandpa Sanzo was silent for a moment, then shortly said ...”Do what you want,” and left it at that. I thought... with that sentence, Hakkai had opened up a breathing hole in the heavy darkness. For the first time in a long while, I ate three bowls of rice.
~~~~
...The night didn’t disappear. But the morning will always come. It comes to everyone, even the “Kamchatka youth”, without fail. Today, Kana-nee smiles peacefully at us from her color photo inside the butsudan.
“Goku! Would you carry these dishes to the table?”
“‘Kay.” Hakkai is scooping rice in the kitchen, so I quickly carry out the dishes. Adults always praise me because I can get things done fast, but really I just like moving around.
“Alright. Sensei only needs miso soup.”
“What about the rest of the food?”
“No, he said he’s going to bed after this.”
At the table, Tenpou takes the bowl, slurps at the miso soup with daikon floating near the bottom, and lets out a happy sigh. This man that everyone calls “Sensei” is actually a second-rate novelist, and a freeloader living in the back room upstairs. He’s Dad’s -- Kenren’s -- best friend from college, and he’s using Kenren’s room as a work space since Dad’s traveling overseas and hardly comes home. My busybody dad pretty much takes care of Tenpou who, ability as a novelist aside, is kind of hopeless when it comes to taking care of himself. Dad had to tell Tenpou, “You gotta at least bathe while you’re at my house, okay?” ......Our family does run a bath house, after all.
While I’m sneaking a bite of nattou from the small prickly-ash bowl on the table, Gojyo shows up in the dining room, yawning hugely.
“......Oh. Sensei, long time no see.”
“...Didn’t I pass you on the way to the toilet at dawn?”
“I don’t remember, I was drunk.”
“Yes, I don’t remember either.”
First thing in the morning and that ‘no-good human combo’, one with a hangover and the other at the end of an all-nighter, are having a vaguely off conversation. Tenpou yawns wide enough to expose his back teeth, stands up and rubs at the crusties in the corners of his eyes.
“Well, I’m off to bed. Goku, have a good day.”
“Yep, g’night!”
“...You’re going to bed? No fair......”
Not expecting an answer, Gojyo, who I’d just shaken awake, watches “Sensei” unsteadily leave the room. Just as his wrinkled shirt disappears from view, Hakkai appears from the kitchen as though taking his place.
“Sensei was working all night, it can’t be helped.”
“...Well, I was working too...” Gojyo whines to Hakkai, who puts the soy sauce on the table and sits down. But since I can’t wait and shout “Let’s eat!”, everyone digs in and ignores Gojyo.
“............ You probably went around drinking after work.” Surprisingly, it’s Grandpa Sanzo who brings it up again. He speaks without even looking at Gojyo, mixing his nattou and sliced daikon like a pro.
“......What’s it got to do with you, old man?”
“The noise of your motorcycle woke me up. It wasn’t even dawn.”
Grandpa glares daggers at his red-headed grandson, but Gojyo feigns innocence and piles on the roasted fish. ...So that’s why Grandpa Sanzo seemed to be in a good mood this morning. He just wasn’t the usual “grumpy Grandpa in the morning,” he was “Grandpa a while after he woke up.” People who don’t know Grandpa usually shrink away, maybe because his gaze is sharp and his manner and voice are dignified. Gojyo’s about the only one who can talk so rudely to Grandpa and be okay with it.
“You should enjoy waking up early to the rest of your life, since you don’t have much longer anyway.”
“Unfortunately, my hobby is sleeping. I’m complaining in order to enjoy the rest of my life, you greenhorn.”
“Woah, this Matsumae-zuke (5) has crab in it!”
“Mr. Kubota next door gave us a portion. It’s very tasty.”
Hakkai and I ignore the fighting pair and continue eating a peaceful breakfast. People might be surprised, but my brother and Grandpa Sanzo always talk to each other like this. You could say they don’t... get along, I guess, but we know they don’t really hate each other. I mean, they’ll go at each other like this, then right after that both of them’ll act like nothing happened and have a conversation like “Y’know the Giant’s batting coach this season? He’ll never work out.” “...Agreed.” I guess in the end, it’s just the two of them being too similar. ...And if I told them that, I bet they’d both get the same pained look.
“Oh, that’s right, Gojyo. Do you have work this afternoon?” Hakkai asks casually.
“I closed up last night so I’m off.”
Hakkai accepts Gojyo’s careless reply and smiles gently. “That’s good. Could you clean the bath house’s washing areas this afternoon, and take care of the front desk from 5pm, and...”
“...No, wait, I just remembered! I do have an afternoon shift!!”
“Could you also clean the changing rooms? I have to go to the shopping district’s union meeting this afternoon.”
“...He’s not listening...” Gojyo mumbles like he’s given up half-way along, his chopsticks-hand dropping with a clatter.
~~~~
...Ever since Kana-nee’s 49th day memorial, Hakkai’s stopped holding back with us, a little. I think it’s because Hakkai chose to single-handedly take on the household affairs as a member of the Genjo family and as the ‘young owner’, and also because he was ready to take responsibility. I don’t really get it, but I think that’s how much he loved Kana-nee, how much he still loves her.
Before, when I told Hakkai this, he made a strange face, smiled gently, and said, “I love Kanan, but I also love this whole family.” I thought Hakkai was just amazing to be able to say something like that without getting embarrassed. But I still didn’t know how I could write that in my essay.
~~~~
“...What’re you grinning about Goku?”
“I’m not grinning,” I reply, biting back my smile. My face must show that I’ve been remembering all sorts of stuff, and Grandpa Sanzo doesn’t miss a thing. He watches people a lot, like they’re interesting. And when you really need it, he’ll silently hold his hand out to you.
~~~~
When I couldn’t write that ‘family essay’ in elementary school, I got scolded by my teacher. My teacher said with a sort of half-smile, “It’s not that difficult of an assignment,” and for some reason I lost it. I think it’s because I got the feeling I was being made fun of.
I went home and went straight up to my room without even glancing at the freshly-made dinner I’d usually check on first thing. Not too long after that, Grandpa came into my room. ...Grandpa even coming up to the second floor at all is rare. About the only time he comes upstairs is to punch out my brother when he does something really big.
“......What’s up, Grandpa?”
“Nothing much.”
Grandpa didn’t say anything else, just leaned one shoulder against the wall a little bit away from where I sat at my desk facing the blank essay sheets sitting there. In the room dyed orange by the setting sun, the smoke raising lazily from the cigarette between Grandpa’s fingers shone gold. It danced in front of Grandpa’s deep purple gaze, and I quietly looked out the window at the sunset too.
“...... I couldn’t write my essay and the teacher got mad.”
“What did they tell you to write about?”
“My family.”
“You don’t want to write it?”
“That’s not it...... I can’t fit it all in.”
“I see.” With that short response, Grandpa tilted his head back a bit and blew smoke to the ceiling. “What do you want me to do?”
“Um......”
...I didn’t know. The essay paper on top my desk had “My Family” written on the first line as a title, and then the words stopped. After that, so many words wanted to spill out, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t put them down on paper.
When I couldn’t respond, Grandpa smoothly lifted his arm directly in front of him, cigarette still clutched between his fingers. Those fingers pointed to the square of sunset-dyed sky and town outside the window. Grandpa looked me directly in the eye, and lifted the corners of his mouth slightly.
“Do it. I give you permission.”
After blinking for a moment, I nodded at Grandpa and faced my essay sheets again. In a matter of seconds the two sheets of essay paper had become two airplanes flying out my window. One plane got caught in the biwa tree in the garden, and the other plane, the other plane was soaring in the sky over the town I knew so well, gliding through the burning sunset.
My teacher hit me the next day, but I wasn’t afraid. After all, Grandpa gave me his permission.
~~~~
“Oh, that’s right. Your father sent a letter,” Hakkai says as he stands up.
He hands me the orange envelope that was sitting next to the telephone. When I carefully open the seal, chopsticks held in my mouth, a single photograph falls out. It’s a scenic shot of the imposing earth and a calm sky dyed in a gradient.
“...Wow,” I unconsciously whisper, and flip the photo over. Manly, yet somehow precise handwriting flows across the back.
“Your father seems to be doing well.”
“Yeah, he says he might come home for New Year’s.”
“What’s he mean, ‘might’?” Gojyo snorts, taking the photo from me.
When I look, I see the envelope was sent from Nairobi, but that’s no indication as to where in the world Kenren is now that he’s sent it. He probably always sends his messages from comparatively safe and stable places so that he doesn’t worry us when we get them. That’s the type of man he is, a wanderer of the world, casually considerate.
“Should I show this to Ten-chan too?”
“There’s another envelope addressed to Sensei.”
“......He’s been busy, like always,” Grandpa Sanzo says in a bored voice, like he’s talking about a stranger. ...Grandpa Sanzo and Dad aren’t very similar in face or demeanor. But if I have to say, their common trait would probably be that they both take their own paths without wavering.
Just then, I hear a familiar brusque voice and the sound of the front door opening without the doorbell ringing.
“Gokuuu. We’re gonna be late!!”
“......Crap.” Pulled back to reality by my friend calling me, I look up at the wall clock to see the long hand is a little past where it should be.
“Look, Tokitoh-kun came to get you. Oh, you can leave the dishes.”
“Sorry Hakkai.”
“Ahh, the trials of being a student.”
“...You were never on time when you were a student. Goku, don’t go too fast.”
“Yeah, got it.”
......We may be slightly different from other families, but I love my family, every inch of them.
“... I’m off!!”
With that shout I turn on my heel and leave my beloved dining table behind. Shoving my feet into my crushed sneakers, I leave through our front door at the back of the store. In an instant, I’m surrounded by a waft of fragrant tree scent, blowing gently through my chestnut hair. Tokitoh waves a hand and tosses me a “Yo,” and I respond in kind.
“Goku, what level’d you get to?”
“‘M still on 25. I took a bath and passed out after that yesterday, so I didn’t get anywhere.”
Talking about games like usual, I grab my bike from the small rack in the corner behind the shop. Dad bought this bike, aka “Kintou’un” (6) for me when I entered high school. It’s a sports model cross bike.
In the garden, our pet dog Jeep -- he’s a Spitz-Akita mix -- woofs once and waves his pure white tail, so I smile at him. Since I rode out with Tokitoh so suddenly, I glance back over my shoulder.
I look at my old-fashioned house, so familiar I almost can’t stand it.
Ten-chan is sitting in his second story window, smoking. He notices me looking back and sleepily raises a corner of his mouth.
Above the tiled roof, the thick smoke indicative of the season seems to pierce the transparent autumn sky, rising straight up to the heavens. It’s like a signpost guiding me home whenever I need it.
That’s why I can relax, face forward, and run.
~~~~
...Looking back now, here’s what I think.
Forget 800 characters, hundreds of essay sheets could never be enough.
How much fun and how lively are our everyday lives? How much do I love this family?
I could never finish writing about that.
==========
To the night sky, fresh from the bath.
==========
As stated in the introduction, the idea for this fun little story was born on the MinekuraKazuya.net cell site, and I’d told the readers that it would be published on the site. However, I received a notice from the people at Tokuma Publishing asking me to stop using these characters, and the story was never published. I’m very sorry...
But, it seems like there’s no problem publishing it in a doujinshi like this, so I couldn’t let this opportunity slide (laughs). However, since this is a doujinshi made for the Saiyuki Festa, only the Saiyuki characters really made an appearance.
What comes next... even though this is one of the parallel worlds I’ve really built up in my mind, for the above reasons I don’t know when or where I could display it. (Well... I don’t have the time to indulge in play so much so that it affects my work...) But if everyone enjoys this, I might be able to jot down some plots or scenes in my blog. It’d be fun if the readers would continue to imagine this “Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log”.
Also, there is no greater happiness for me as their mother than if you’ve come to love these Minekura characters even a little.
-------------------
Notes:
(1) Saiyuki Extreme Bath Log: This Saiyuki [最湯記] is a homophone of the Journey to the Extreme Saiyuki [最遊記] we’re all familiar with. Minekura Sensei replaced the ‘journey’ character [遊 yuu] with ‘hot water’ or ‘bath’ [湯 yu].
(2) Essay Sheets [原稿用紙 genkou youshi]: Papers covered in columns of boxes on which to write essays, novel drafts, etc. One character per box. This opening section is about 400 characters long in Japanese.
(3) Taneda Santouka [種田山頭火]: A haiku poet and Zen Buddhist priest.
(4) 49th Day Memorial: In Buddhism, the 49th day is the day by which the soul finds its way to its next incarnation, so the family usually has another service at this time.
(5) Matsumae-zuke [松前漬け]: A dish of pickled kelp and squid famous in Hokkaido.
(6) Kintoun [觔斗雲]: The Japanese name of the monkey king’s flying cloud, or ‘Nimbus’ if you know the English versions of Dragonball (^_^)
Click here to read Tanikawa Shuntaro's "Morning Relay" in full
Stay tuned for the rest!
This is Minekura Sensei's introduction, plus the first of the short stories, "Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log" [最湯記]. Goku introduces us to his wacky family (assorted Saiyuki characters) who run the local public bath house.
Nitro Test-Tube Storys by Minekura Kazuya
Minekura Kazuya here. Thank you so much for picking up this humble book.
... It’s been a terribly long time since I’ve published a doujinshi, and I was incredibly panicked. Plus, I was told not to include any pictures or manga. And I only had a few days before publishing (that was my break from work, too). This book is the product of about one day’s work... To add to my panic, the freedom I had this time (in procedures for submitting the script and the like) were quite different from when I used to write doujinshi, so I was constantly fluttering about. I’m sorry if there are a lot of spelling errors... But it was fun.
Minekura characters other than those in Saiyuki appear in this book, unlike the other two books that were issued simultaneously. The “Backgammon” circle originally wasn’t only Saiyuki, but also encompassed the Kubo Toki series and Busgamer (although Honeycomb wasn’t created then), and I wanted to make at least one book that said, “This is Backgammon!” The stories collected here fundamentally revolve around Saiyuki, and of course I hope that Saiyuki readers enjoy them, but I also hope that these stories spark an interest in my other characters as well.
I hope this is an entertaining book.
=============
“The extraordinary is an adventure”
Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log (1)
This is a record of the incredibly ordinary lives of a family who runs a certain downtown public bath house.
Saiyuki Character Map
”Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log” is a parallel universe born from a project on the MinekuraKazuya.net cell page. Minekura herself came up with this result in response to the question “What if the Minekura characters were family members?” (laughs). For more detailed information, please see MinekuraKazuya.net.
MinekuraKazuya.net PC site: http://www.minekura.net/pc/index.html
============
This happened while I was still in elementary school. I got a homework assignment to “write an essay about your family”, and I received two pages of 400-character essay sheets (2) to write it on. Sitting with those pages in front of me, I had no clue what to do.
My family’s run a public bath ever since my great grandpa’s generation. Grandpa Sanzo works the front desk, and Grandma died young. Grandpa’s son, my dad, is a cameraman and always flying around the world. My mother died right after giving birth to me. I’ve got a punk brother who’s four years older than me. At the time, my aunt Kana-nee was living with us and was in charge of the chores... Also, I have an uncle Nobu-nii who only rarely comes home...
It’s not impossible, but writing an essay on “My Family” in a mere 800 characters is unthinkable. I’d use them all up on just the character introductions.
How much fun and how lively are our everyday lives? How much do I love this family?
I could never finish writing about that.
Chapter 1: Genjo Family Mornings
When a Kamchatka youth
Is dreaming of giraffes,
A Mexican girl is waiting for the bus
In the morning haze.
That was a poem called “Morning Relay” that was in my Japanese text book the other day. ...I don’t particularly like poetry or haiku, but every morning for some reason, this thought pops into my head: far beyond the earth beneath my feet... right now, on the other side of the world, it’s night.
And, no matter how endlessly long the night seems, morning will always come.
~~~~
A bell rings out from somewhere far away, as though marking the end of a dream. Streaming in diagonally through a gap in the blue checked curtains is a white veil of light, brilliantly bright. As I awake, the cells in my chest vaguely acknowledge that it’s morning.
I get up, twist at the waist, and wipe away some drool. It kinda feels like I was having a really intense, fantastic dream; the inside of my mouth is all dry. When I look for the source of the ringing noise echoing from far away, I see my alarm clock has fallen from beside my pillow and is desperately ringing from the space between the wall and my pipe-frame bed. ...Well, I probably tossed it down there.
Rescuing the alarm clock, I stop the bell. Once I do, I can hear Grandpa Sanzo’s recitations resonating across the small garden downstairs. His voice travels well, low, like a real monk’s. This morning he’s doing “Taneda Santouka’s Heart Sutra” (3). He must be in a good mood to be reciting that one first thing in the morning.
“The weather’s nice, too...”
When I push back the curtain, the square of sky framed by the aged sash is a cool, clear autumn blue, reaching out endlessly. Seeing that soft blue, I stretch contentedly. Still wearing the T-shirt that I slept in, I leave my room and head down the creaking, decrepit staircase. Half-way down, I meet my uncle coming up the stairs.
“Morning Hakkai!!”
“Good morning Goku.”
My uncle, who looks too young to be called ‘uncle’, feels like a freshly washed shirt. He gives me a refreshing smile fit for a laundry detergent commercial and says, “I’m glad you always wake up easily, Goku.”
“What d’you... Oh, you’re going to wake up Gojyo.”
“Yes. I always tell him we should all eat breakfast together, at the very least.”
“I’ll go wake him up. You go back to the kitchen, Hakkai.”
Before Hakkai can give me his gentle ‘thank you’, I turn around and rhythmically creak my way back up the narrow staircase. I pass my own room and stop in front of the next door. Here and there, the varnish is peeling off the old wooden frame. I knock three times as hard as I can. ...That might be one reason the varnish is peeling.
“Goooojyooo!”
There’s no response, even when I crack open the door and call. I carelessly shove the door open, but it catches on something with a thump. The mountain of magazines heaped shapelessly on the floor has fallen, spilling over the black carpet.
“... stinks.”
One step in and the room reeks of stale booze and sweat, mixed with the faint noxious fumes of a peculiar brand of cigarette. ...It’s a little bit like the remembered smell of my dad’s room. The morning sun is pretty much unable to pierce the black curtains, leaving the room in shadow. A head topped with almost unnaturally red hair peeks out of the matching monochrome blankets on top the black pipe-frame bed.
“It’s morning. Wake up Gojyo.”
I plant one foot on the blanket over my brother’s back and shake. I’m not lazy. When I was in elementary school I used to belly flop onto Gojyo’s back to wake him up, but I graduated from suddenly jumping on a sleeping guy’s back ever since I heard some radio show’s story about some kids jumping on their father’s back and snapping his morning wood in half. ...Just hearing such a terrifying story is enough to make any man’s balls shrink in fear.
“...Urrr...” Bodily shaken blankets and all, Gojyo lets out a growl, still facing the wall.
“Get up Gojyo! Breakfast!!”
“...Don’t kick me, you stupid monkey!” Suddenly a long, bare arm bursts out of the blankets seeking revenge on my foot.
“That wasn’t my foot, it was my hand just now.”
When my lie rings hollow, Gojyo slowly turns to face me, one eyebrow raised in a ‘punk glare’. As long as he stays quiet, Gojyo’s clear-cut features can usually offset the vulgarity that otherwise seeps out.
“...That was your foot.”
“It was my hand. You’re just confused ‘cause you’re still half-asleep.”
“...... tch,” Gojyo clicks his tongue as though to say he doesn’t care, then buries his face in his big pillow.
Normally I can’t lie or keep secrets, but with Gojyo I can be bratty like this. It’s not because we don’t get along. Actually, compared to the other brothers of the world, we get along rather well. I think we’re more like friends, unconcerned with the age difference between us.
“C’mon, it’s breakfast.”
“...Don’t care. What time do you think I got home...”
“You don’t wanna eat?”
“No.”
“Hakkai’s gonna be mad.”
“..........” Gojyo goes as silent as if I’d delivered him a death sentence.
I turn my back on him and leave the room. “Well, I woke you up, like I said I would.”
...Eh, Gojyo’ll probably get up soon, once he thinks about it for a while.
After washing my face and brushing my teeth in the upstairs bathroom, I go back to my room and quickly change into my blazer-style school uniform. I always forget how to tie the necktie, so I never undo it. After pulling the tie down around the collar of my shirt, I lightly tug the knot up. My beat-up back pack is mostly empty of text books, and I throw it over my left shoulder before dashing down to the kitchen, called by the smell of roasting fish. When I get there, there are already two men seated at the table.
“Morning Grandpa.”
“...Yeah.”
Grandpa Sanzo glances up from behind his newspaper and looks sharply at me through his reading glasses. ...He’s definitely in a good mood today; he responded quickly, and his naturally intense gaze is gentle... but I don’t think many strangers would be able to tell the difference.
“Morning Ten-chan. ‘M surprised you’re up this early.”
“...I just finished a deadline.......”
The novelist has listlessly draped one arm over the back of his chair, and is carrying his coffee to his mouth as he tiredly smokes a short cigarette. Even though his eyes are barely half-open behind his slightly outdated green-black glasses and he’s staring off into the distance, the corners of his slackened mouth are curled up in a tiny smile. It’s eerie.
It’s probably ‘post-work repose’, but I don’t think he knows he’s smiling. Even his features, that some might call glamorous, are too much to look at. His semi-long black hair, mussed after staying up all night, shines... with oil.
Slipping through the dining room, I enter the Japanese-style room behind it and plop down on my knees before the wooden butsudan in the corner. I pick up the wand and ring the pale gold ‘bell’ atop the plump cushion. A clear, comforting sound rings throughout the room, and before the sound can disappear I clap my hands together before our home altar. That’s been my tradition ever since I was a kid.
I look up at the two small photographs discretely displayed behind the flower arrangement. One photo is of Grandma, the other is of Kana-nee -- my aunt Kanan.
I’d never met Grandma Konzen, but looking at the small black-and-white photo, I can see a likeness to Grandpa Sanzo. They say married couples look alike; now that I think about it, Kana-nee and Hakkai are very similar too. ...Even though the time they spent actually married was only about two years.
~~~~
My uncle Hakkai married into the Genjo family when I was in 7th grade. One day without any warning whatsoever, Kana-nee, who managed the bath house’s finances on top of seeing to all the household chores, suddenly said, “I’m going to marry this man,” and brought home a nice, handsome guy. That made all of us do a double-take. Turns out those two had been dating since college, but no one in the family even knew Kana-nee had had a boyfriend. Not even a lever or a tower crane could move Kana-nee once she got an idea, so in the blink of an eye she got Grandpa’s permission and was married.
...This is Kana-nee I’m talking about, so maybe she had some sort of premonition. She left this world in a sudden traffic accident, never having had a child. She left behind her family and her beloved husband who became the ‘young owner’ of the bath house to struggle admirably through her loss.
Even as time passed, the Genjo family remained locked in an endless night. I learned how big an impact one member’s existence had on the rest of the family. Even though my mother’s photo isn’t displayed in the butsudan (Dad refused to put it up)... I think when my mom died, it must have been kind of like that. No matter how brightly we went about, it was like this indestructible darkness covered our house and blotted out the sun.
On the eve of Kana-nee’s 49th day memorial (4), Grandpa Sanzo said this to Hakkai:
“No one would blame you if you left this house.”
...The next morning, Hakkai woke up everyone like normal, stood in the kitchen like normal, and said to us, “May I buy a teflon-coated frying pan?” like normal. He said it with such a normal smile, Grandpa Sanzo was silent for a moment, then shortly said ...”Do what you want,” and left it at that. I thought... with that sentence, Hakkai had opened up a breathing hole in the heavy darkness. For the first time in a long while, I ate three bowls of rice.
~~~~
...The night didn’t disappear. But the morning will always come. It comes to everyone, even the “Kamchatka youth”, without fail. Today, Kana-nee smiles peacefully at us from her color photo inside the butsudan.
“Goku! Would you carry these dishes to the table?”
“‘Kay.” Hakkai is scooping rice in the kitchen, so I quickly carry out the dishes. Adults always praise me because I can get things done fast, but really I just like moving around.
“Alright. Sensei only needs miso soup.”
“What about the rest of the food?”
“No, he said he’s going to bed after this.”
At the table, Tenpou takes the bowl, slurps at the miso soup with daikon floating near the bottom, and lets out a happy sigh. This man that everyone calls “Sensei” is actually a second-rate novelist, and a freeloader living in the back room upstairs. He’s Dad’s -- Kenren’s -- best friend from college, and he’s using Kenren’s room as a work space since Dad’s traveling overseas and hardly comes home. My busybody dad pretty much takes care of Tenpou who, ability as a novelist aside, is kind of hopeless when it comes to taking care of himself. Dad had to tell Tenpou, “You gotta at least bathe while you’re at my house, okay?” ......Our family does run a bath house, after all.
While I’m sneaking a bite of nattou from the small prickly-ash bowl on the table, Gojyo shows up in the dining room, yawning hugely.
“......Oh. Sensei, long time no see.”
“...Didn’t I pass you on the way to the toilet at dawn?”
“I don’t remember, I was drunk.”
“Yes, I don’t remember either.”
First thing in the morning and that ‘no-good human combo’, one with a hangover and the other at the end of an all-nighter, are having a vaguely off conversation. Tenpou yawns wide enough to expose his back teeth, stands up and rubs at the crusties in the corners of his eyes.
“Well, I’m off to bed. Goku, have a good day.”
“Yep, g’night!”
“...You’re going to bed? No fair......”
Not expecting an answer, Gojyo, who I’d just shaken awake, watches “Sensei” unsteadily leave the room. Just as his wrinkled shirt disappears from view, Hakkai appears from the kitchen as though taking his place.
“Sensei was working all night, it can’t be helped.”
“...Well, I was working too...” Gojyo whines to Hakkai, who puts the soy sauce on the table and sits down. But since I can’t wait and shout “Let’s eat!”, everyone digs in and ignores Gojyo.
“............ You probably went around drinking after work.” Surprisingly, it’s Grandpa Sanzo who brings it up again. He speaks without even looking at Gojyo, mixing his nattou and sliced daikon like a pro.
“......What’s it got to do with you, old man?”
“The noise of your motorcycle woke me up. It wasn’t even dawn.”
Grandpa glares daggers at his red-headed grandson, but Gojyo feigns innocence and piles on the roasted fish. ...So that’s why Grandpa Sanzo seemed to be in a good mood this morning. He just wasn’t the usual “grumpy Grandpa in the morning,” he was “Grandpa a while after he woke up.” People who don’t know Grandpa usually shrink away, maybe because his gaze is sharp and his manner and voice are dignified. Gojyo’s about the only one who can talk so rudely to Grandpa and be okay with it.
“You should enjoy waking up early to the rest of your life, since you don’t have much longer anyway.”
“Unfortunately, my hobby is sleeping. I’m complaining in order to enjoy the rest of my life, you greenhorn.”
“Woah, this Matsumae-zuke (5) has crab in it!”
“Mr. Kubota next door gave us a portion. It’s very tasty.”
Hakkai and I ignore the fighting pair and continue eating a peaceful breakfast. People might be surprised, but my brother and Grandpa Sanzo always talk to each other like this. You could say they don’t... get along, I guess, but we know they don’t really hate each other. I mean, they’ll go at each other like this, then right after that both of them’ll act like nothing happened and have a conversation like “Y’know the Giant’s batting coach this season? He’ll never work out.” “...Agreed.” I guess in the end, it’s just the two of them being too similar. ...And if I told them that, I bet they’d both get the same pained look.
“Oh, that’s right, Gojyo. Do you have work this afternoon?” Hakkai asks casually.
“I closed up last night so I’m off.”
Hakkai accepts Gojyo’s careless reply and smiles gently. “That’s good. Could you clean the bath house’s washing areas this afternoon, and take care of the front desk from 5pm, and...”
“...No, wait, I just remembered! I do have an afternoon shift!!”
“Could you also clean the changing rooms? I have to go to the shopping district’s union meeting this afternoon.”
“...He’s not listening...” Gojyo mumbles like he’s given up half-way along, his chopsticks-hand dropping with a clatter.
~~~~
...Ever since Kana-nee’s 49th day memorial, Hakkai’s stopped holding back with us, a little. I think it’s because Hakkai chose to single-handedly take on the household affairs as a member of the Genjo family and as the ‘young owner’, and also because he was ready to take responsibility. I don’t really get it, but I think that’s how much he loved Kana-nee, how much he still loves her.
Before, when I told Hakkai this, he made a strange face, smiled gently, and said, “I love Kanan, but I also love this whole family.” I thought Hakkai was just amazing to be able to say something like that without getting embarrassed. But I still didn’t know how I could write that in my essay.
~~~~
“...What’re you grinning about Goku?”
“I’m not grinning,” I reply, biting back my smile. My face must show that I’ve been remembering all sorts of stuff, and Grandpa Sanzo doesn’t miss a thing. He watches people a lot, like they’re interesting. And when you really need it, he’ll silently hold his hand out to you.
~~~~
When I couldn’t write that ‘family essay’ in elementary school, I got scolded by my teacher. My teacher said with a sort of half-smile, “It’s not that difficult of an assignment,” and for some reason I lost it. I think it’s because I got the feeling I was being made fun of.
I went home and went straight up to my room without even glancing at the freshly-made dinner I’d usually check on first thing. Not too long after that, Grandpa came into my room. ...Grandpa even coming up to the second floor at all is rare. About the only time he comes upstairs is to punch out my brother when he does something really big.
“......What’s up, Grandpa?”
“Nothing much.”
Grandpa didn’t say anything else, just leaned one shoulder against the wall a little bit away from where I sat at my desk facing the blank essay sheets sitting there. In the room dyed orange by the setting sun, the smoke raising lazily from the cigarette between Grandpa’s fingers shone gold. It danced in front of Grandpa’s deep purple gaze, and I quietly looked out the window at the sunset too.
“...... I couldn’t write my essay and the teacher got mad.”
“What did they tell you to write about?”
“My family.”
“You don’t want to write it?”
“That’s not it...... I can’t fit it all in.”
“I see.” With that short response, Grandpa tilted his head back a bit and blew smoke to the ceiling. “What do you want me to do?”
“Um......”
...I didn’t know. The essay paper on top my desk had “My Family” written on the first line as a title, and then the words stopped. After that, so many words wanted to spill out, but no matter how hard I tried I couldn’t put them down on paper.
When I couldn’t respond, Grandpa smoothly lifted his arm directly in front of him, cigarette still clutched between his fingers. Those fingers pointed to the square of sunset-dyed sky and town outside the window. Grandpa looked me directly in the eye, and lifted the corners of his mouth slightly.
“Do it. I give you permission.”
After blinking for a moment, I nodded at Grandpa and faced my essay sheets again. In a matter of seconds the two sheets of essay paper had become two airplanes flying out my window. One plane got caught in the biwa tree in the garden, and the other plane, the other plane was soaring in the sky over the town I knew so well, gliding through the burning sunset.
My teacher hit me the next day, but I wasn’t afraid. After all, Grandpa gave me his permission.
~~~~
“Oh, that’s right. Your father sent a letter,” Hakkai says as he stands up.
He hands me the orange envelope that was sitting next to the telephone. When I carefully open the seal, chopsticks held in my mouth, a single photograph falls out. It’s a scenic shot of the imposing earth and a calm sky dyed in a gradient.
“...Wow,” I unconsciously whisper, and flip the photo over. Manly, yet somehow precise handwriting flows across the back.
“Your father seems to be doing well.”
“Yeah, he says he might come home for New Year’s.”
“What’s he mean, ‘might’?” Gojyo snorts, taking the photo from me.
When I look, I see the envelope was sent from Nairobi, but that’s no indication as to where in the world Kenren is now that he’s sent it. He probably always sends his messages from comparatively safe and stable places so that he doesn’t worry us when we get them. That’s the type of man he is, a wanderer of the world, casually considerate.
“Should I show this to Ten-chan too?”
“There’s another envelope addressed to Sensei.”
“......He’s been busy, like always,” Grandpa Sanzo says in a bored voice, like he’s talking about a stranger. ...Grandpa Sanzo and Dad aren’t very similar in face or demeanor. But if I have to say, their common trait would probably be that they both take their own paths without wavering.
Just then, I hear a familiar brusque voice and the sound of the front door opening without the doorbell ringing.
“Gokuuu. We’re gonna be late!!”
“......Crap.” Pulled back to reality by my friend calling me, I look up at the wall clock to see the long hand is a little past where it should be.
“Look, Tokitoh-kun came to get you. Oh, you can leave the dishes.”
“Sorry Hakkai.”
“Ahh, the trials of being a student.”
“...You were never on time when you were a student. Goku, don’t go too fast.”
“Yeah, got it.”
......We may be slightly different from other families, but I love my family, every inch of them.
“... I’m off!!”
With that shout I turn on my heel and leave my beloved dining table behind. Shoving my feet into my crushed sneakers, I leave through our front door at the back of the store. In an instant, I’m surrounded by a waft of fragrant tree scent, blowing gently through my chestnut hair. Tokitoh waves a hand and tosses me a “Yo,” and I respond in kind.
“Goku, what level’d you get to?”
“‘M still on 25. I took a bath and passed out after that yesterday, so I didn’t get anywhere.”
Talking about games like usual, I grab my bike from the small rack in the corner behind the shop. Dad bought this bike, aka “Kintou’un” (6) for me when I entered high school. It’s a sports model cross bike.
In the garden, our pet dog Jeep -- he’s a Spitz-Akita mix -- woofs once and waves his pure white tail, so I smile at him. Since I rode out with Tokitoh so suddenly, I glance back over my shoulder.
I look at my old-fashioned house, so familiar I almost can’t stand it.
Ten-chan is sitting in his second story window, smoking. He notices me looking back and sleepily raises a corner of his mouth.
Above the tiled roof, the thick smoke indicative of the season seems to pierce the transparent autumn sky, rising straight up to the heavens. It’s like a signpost guiding me home whenever I need it.
That’s why I can relax, face forward, and run.
~~~~
...Looking back now, here’s what I think.
Forget 800 characters, hundreds of essay sheets could never be enough.
How much fun and how lively are our everyday lives? How much do I love this family?
I could never finish writing about that.
==========
To the night sky, fresh from the bath.
==========
As stated in the introduction, the idea for this fun little story was born on the MinekuraKazuya.net cell site, and I’d told the readers that it would be published on the site. However, I received a notice from the people at Tokuma Publishing asking me to stop using these characters, and the story was never published. I’m very sorry...
But, it seems like there’s no problem publishing it in a doujinshi like this, so I couldn’t let this opportunity slide (laughs). However, since this is a doujinshi made for the Saiyuki Festa, only the Saiyuki characters really made an appearance.
What comes next... even though this is one of the parallel worlds I’ve really built up in my mind, for the above reasons I don’t know when or where I could display it. (Well... I don’t have the time to indulge in play so much so that it affects my work...) But if everyone enjoys this, I might be able to jot down some plots or scenes in my blog. It’d be fun if the readers would continue to imagine this “Saiyuki: Extreme Bath Log”.
Also, there is no greater happiness for me as their mother than if you’ve come to love these Minekura characters even a little.
-------------------
Notes:
(1) Saiyuki Extreme Bath Log: This Saiyuki [最湯記] is a homophone of the Journey to the Extreme Saiyuki [最遊記] we’re all familiar with. Minekura Sensei replaced the ‘journey’ character [遊 yuu] with ‘hot water’ or ‘bath’ [湯 yu].
(2) Essay Sheets [原稿用紙 genkou youshi]: Papers covered in columns of boxes on which to write essays, novel drafts, etc. One character per box. This opening section is about 400 characters long in Japanese.
(3) Taneda Santouka [種田山頭火]: A haiku poet and Zen Buddhist priest.
(4) 49th Day Memorial: In Buddhism, the 49th day is the day by which the soul finds its way to its next incarnation, so the family usually has another service at this time.
(5) Matsumae-zuke [松前漬け]: A dish of pickled kelp and squid famous in Hokkaido.
(6) Kintoun [觔斗雲]: The Japanese name of the monkey king’s flying cloud, or ‘Nimbus’ if you know the English versions of Dragonball (^_^)
Click here to read Tanikawa Shuntaro's "Morning Relay" in full
Stay tuned for the rest!