Mer-Gojyo (5/?)
Hmm. Thought I'd post while I have a minute to do so. My weekend has been strange, so I'm a bit off, writing-wise, from where I'd like to be. I didn't want to neglect this story while playing catch-up on others, so I'm posting now instead of trying to do it a little later in the week. Again, this is not a polished draft. I expect there's some amount of screw-ups that I'm just not seeing...*sigh* Still, this is about my favorite (posted) part so far!
Cho Hakkai sat at the counter of his shop. He sighed, thumbing the worn edges of a deck of cards beneath his hand. It had been another slow day--the cash box had remained untouched from beginning to end. He shifted position on his stool. The interior of the shop was dusty, dim, and appropriately esoteric-looking, considering what it was he stocked. Herbs hung from the rafters. Rocks and crystals shared shelf space with beeswax candles and handwritten tracts on all sorts of forms of mysticism. The walls were painted with strange scenes, presumably depicting rituals--in which Hakkai himself would have no desire to participate. The murals on two walls had long since flaked into obscurity; smears of blue and red and green were all that was left.
Though Hakkai burned no incense, the scent of it was a fugue in the air: stale, spicy, a hint fetid. He had not managed to get rid of the smell in the four years he'd had the shop. It was entirely possible the previous owner had cursed it, though Hakkai doubted it. That man's skills had lain in a different area. He frowned, noticing something odd about a heap of scrolls that littered one of the tables.
Hakkai stood, patted the deck of cards, and approached the papers. He lifted them up and breathed in sharply. It was a dark, smoothly polished wooden case. He knew from long experience that it contained mahjong tiles.
"I thought I'd locked you up," said Hakkai. "But you always seem to get out. You're far too clever, considering your master is gone."
He smiled at the irony; the case had showed up underneath a display of good-luck charms. It seemed his merchandise was faulty. Ah well. Most of the shop's contents were sheer fakery. Hakkai took hold of the box and pulled it off the table.
The case was cold, as it always was when he handled it, but he held it firmly. He locked it away in the storage space underneath the floor of the back room. Hakkai dusted off his hands and moved a heavy chest over the trapdoor. He inspected the room. Thankfully, the marionette had not gone wandering as well. It slumped in one corner of the room, inert, the delicate silver chain around its neck shining. Hakkai frowned, thoughtful, but he resisted the urge to touch it.
He left the back room and sat again at the counter, surveying his small, strange kingdom. Perhaps ten percent of what he sold in this shop did what it was supposed to do, not that he sold much in the way of merchandise. The herbs for healing were genuine, as was any healing he himself did. But what his shop really sold…was the future.
Hakkai contemplated the Tarot deck before him. He had a way with cards. All cards. He could read the flow of a poker game or the truth out of a four card spread. Because what he saw in the Tarot was always the truth. No meaning was hidden from him there. That was what people really came to him for: a peek into the future. Hakkai sighed and shuffled the deck. He didn't like reading the cards, but sometimes he did it out of necessity.
Most customers were happy to be sold astrological charts instead. After all, Hakkai had credentials in that field. To be more precise, he was an astronomer. He had trained under and entered service to the royal court of a kingdom so far to the east that no one here knew its name. He had been more than content to map the movements of the stars for the rest of his life. But, alas, his circumstances had changed. Hakkai had ended up here, on an island that was the end of a long chain of islands, port-of-call to all manner of sailors and ruffians, home to strange goods and stranger services and persons of interest who were better off forgotten in their hometowns. Hakkai fit in well enough.
He looked briefly to the sample horoscope charts layered neatly in the display counter. Most laymen didn't know there was a difference between astronomy, in which he was qualified, and astrology. It was a small lie. The charts sold well, even if they had nothing to do with the future at all. Some customers could not be dissuaded from a Tarot reading, though, no matter how politely he suggested the charts. This was, generally bad for business. Unhappy customers didn't pay. Or, if they had, they tried, sometimes violently, to reclaim their money. No one wanted the whole truth, not about themselves, not coming from the mouth of a smiling stranger who offered tea and, in the same breath, told them of their infidelities and pettiness and greed. Their private despairs. Their deaths. Their sins.
Hakkai set the cards down. He got up from his stool and went to front of the shop. He flipped the placard on the door from "Open" to "Closed." Hakkai locked the door.
He returned to the counter and lit the lamp beside him. He forced his fingers to stop shaking as he laid flint and striker in a drawer. Reaching under the counter, he retrieved a bottle and a small glass. Hakkai poured himself a drink, filled the glass half full and knocked it back. He swallowed again, willing spit into his mouth and tried not to think about how terrible it tasted. He poured another and set it, and the bottle, on the counter. The alcohol burned its way down to the pit of his stomach. He breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose. The taste filled his sinuses. Staring down at the deck, he took another swallow of the drink and removed his monocle, placing it to the side with great care. Hakkai laid his hands on the deck and began his reading.
Hakkai had not read the cards for himself in quite some time, perhaps even almost as long ago as when he'd been Cho Gonou, thousands of miles and a lifetime away from now. He shuddered, remembering. He cleared his thoughts and focused on the cards in front of him.
"Oh my," said Hakkai. "Oh dear."
He looked over the cards again. He was not mistaken. He sighed. And then, his eyes were drawn to his hand, laid out next to the spread. A very thin red bracelet circled his left wrist. Hakkai stroked it, the braid's texture slippery on the skin of his arm and his finger. He leaned on an elbow, cheek resting in the palm of his hand as he eyed the cards.
"I hadn't expected it to be so soon," he said. "I had hoped…"
Hakkai finished his drink quickly, the taste filming over his tongue. He poured another. His fingers trembled as he gathered the card into one pile again. He wrapped the deck up in a silk handkerchief, stood, and put it into his pocket. He surveyed the shop again, critical, and shook his head.
"This will never do," he said. "Not if I'm going to have company."
Hakkai drained the glass and grimaced. He corked the bottle and returned it and the glass to the underside of the cabinet. He rolled up his sleeves, lingering for a moment over the bracelet, and got up from his seat again.
"I believe I will start by washing the windows," he said. "After all, they won't be able to find me if they can't even see in."
Hakkai laughed to himself for a minute, leaning against the counter. And then he put on his monocle and got to work.
~ciao
Cho Hakkai sat at the counter of his shop. He sighed, thumbing the worn edges of a deck of cards beneath his hand. It had been another slow day--the cash box had remained untouched from beginning to end. He shifted position on his stool. The interior of the shop was dusty, dim, and appropriately esoteric-looking, considering what it was he stocked. Herbs hung from the rafters. Rocks and crystals shared shelf space with beeswax candles and handwritten tracts on all sorts of forms of mysticism. The walls were painted with strange scenes, presumably depicting rituals--in which Hakkai himself would have no desire to participate. The murals on two walls had long since flaked into obscurity; smears of blue and red and green were all that was left.
Though Hakkai burned no incense, the scent of it was a fugue in the air: stale, spicy, a hint fetid. He had not managed to get rid of the smell in the four years he'd had the shop. It was entirely possible the previous owner had cursed it, though Hakkai doubted it. That man's skills had lain in a different area. He frowned, noticing something odd about a heap of scrolls that littered one of the tables.
Hakkai stood, patted the deck of cards, and approached the papers. He lifted them up and breathed in sharply. It was a dark, smoothly polished wooden case. He knew from long experience that it contained mahjong tiles.
"I thought I'd locked you up," said Hakkai. "But you always seem to get out. You're far too clever, considering your master is gone."
He smiled at the irony; the case had showed up underneath a display of good-luck charms. It seemed his merchandise was faulty. Ah well. Most of the shop's contents were sheer fakery. Hakkai took hold of the box and pulled it off the table.
The case was cold, as it always was when he handled it, but he held it firmly. He locked it away in the storage space underneath the floor of the back room. Hakkai dusted off his hands and moved a heavy chest over the trapdoor. He inspected the room. Thankfully, the marionette had not gone wandering as well. It slumped in one corner of the room, inert, the delicate silver chain around its neck shining. Hakkai frowned, thoughtful, but he resisted the urge to touch it.
He left the back room and sat again at the counter, surveying his small, strange kingdom. Perhaps ten percent of what he sold in this shop did what it was supposed to do, not that he sold much in the way of merchandise. The herbs for healing were genuine, as was any healing he himself did. But what his shop really sold…was the future.
Hakkai contemplated the Tarot deck before him. He had a way with cards. All cards. He could read the flow of a poker game or the truth out of a four card spread. Because what he saw in the Tarot was always the truth. No meaning was hidden from him there. That was what people really came to him for: a peek into the future. Hakkai sighed and shuffled the deck. He didn't like reading the cards, but sometimes he did it out of necessity.
Most customers were happy to be sold astrological charts instead. After all, Hakkai had credentials in that field. To be more precise, he was an astronomer. He had trained under and entered service to the royal court of a kingdom so far to the east that no one here knew its name. He had been more than content to map the movements of the stars for the rest of his life. But, alas, his circumstances had changed. Hakkai had ended up here, on an island that was the end of a long chain of islands, port-of-call to all manner of sailors and ruffians, home to strange goods and stranger services and persons of interest who were better off forgotten in their hometowns. Hakkai fit in well enough.
He looked briefly to the sample horoscope charts layered neatly in the display counter. Most laymen didn't know there was a difference between astronomy, in which he was qualified, and astrology. It was a small lie. The charts sold well, even if they had nothing to do with the future at all. Some customers could not be dissuaded from a Tarot reading, though, no matter how politely he suggested the charts. This was, generally bad for business. Unhappy customers didn't pay. Or, if they had, they tried, sometimes violently, to reclaim their money. No one wanted the whole truth, not about themselves, not coming from the mouth of a smiling stranger who offered tea and, in the same breath, told them of their infidelities and pettiness and greed. Their private despairs. Their deaths. Their sins.
Hakkai set the cards down. He got up from his stool and went to front of the shop. He flipped the placard on the door from "Open" to "Closed." Hakkai locked the door.
He returned to the counter and lit the lamp beside him. He forced his fingers to stop shaking as he laid flint and striker in a drawer. Reaching under the counter, he retrieved a bottle and a small glass. Hakkai poured himself a drink, filled the glass half full and knocked it back. He swallowed again, willing spit into his mouth and tried not to think about how terrible it tasted. He poured another and set it, and the bottle, on the counter. The alcohol burned its way down to the pit of his stomach. He breathed in through his mouth and out through his nose. The taste filled his sinuses. Staring down at the deck, he took another swallow of the drink and removed his monocle, placing it to the side with great care. Hakkai laid his hands on the deck and began his reading.
Hakkai had not read the cards for himself in quite some time, perhaps even almost as long ago as when he'd been Cho Gonou, thousands of miles and a lifetime away from now. He shuddered, remembering. He cleared his thoughts and focused on the cards in front of him.
"Oh my," said Hakkai. "Oh dear."
He looked over the cards again. He was not mistaken. He sighed. And then, his eyes were drawn to his hand, laid out next to the spread. A very thin red bracelet circled his left wrist. Hakkai stroked it, the braid's texture slippery on the skin of his arm and his finger. He leaned on an elbow, cheek resting in the palm of his hand as he eyed the cards.
"I hadn't expected it to be so soon," he said. "I had hoped…"
Hakkai finished his drink quickly, the taste filming over his tongue. He poured another. His fingers trembled as he gathered the card into one pile again. He wrapped the deck up in a silk handkerchief, stood, and put it into his pocket. He surveyed the shop again, critical, and shook his head.
"This will never do," he said. "Not if I'm going to have company."
Hakkai drained the glass and grimaced. He corked the bottle and returned it and the glass to the underside of the cabinet. He rolled up his sleeves, lingering for a moment over the bracelet, and got up from his seat again.
"I believe I will start by washing the windows," he said. "After all, they won't be able to find me if they can't even see in."
Hakkai laughed to himself for a minute, leaning against the counter. And then he put on his monocle and got to work.
~ciao