Eternal Sleep:? Part Thirteen

Written by: Liz Donovan


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Eternal Sleep?: Part Fourteen

(For this Chapter only, all things spoken in Japanese will be marked by astrics (*’s) anything in regular quotes, ("’s) will be spoken in Chinese.)

The sun rose slowly of the ancient land of China. The mists that danced close to the ground faded as the sun warmed the earth. The light fog drifted away, leaving only the soft dew clinging on the stems of flowers, and trickling off the leaves. One could easily become lost in the lands beauty. The soft green of the grass meeting, in a blur, the hazy gray of the morning sky. The air smelled sweetly of nature, and a slight breeze was cooling to the face. Natural rock formations formed around the land, leading into great mountains.
Nestled quaintly in the crevices of the mountains, lay a village, built and maintained as a part of the earth as well. There, with the waking sun, woke the people. The sun cast its warming gaze upon the village huts and life began to stir. All remnants of the soft fog of early morning vanished as the sun climbed its peak. By mid-day, the village was alive, and the sun beat down mercilessly it.
By all appearances the town was of Amazon women. Great female fighters, who take honor in all they do. However, years and technology had taken its toll on this village as well. However secluded this village, those who lived there still could eat the delicate foods of modern life. They could have the utilities of city folk, and carried restaurants, shops, and bars. And into one of these restaurants a weary traveler entered, taking no note of the store name or of the occupancies in side.
Mousse looked up from behind the counter. A small chine had announced the arrival of a customer, and he needed to prepare for his order. Swiftly, Mousse vaulted the counter and stood in front of his newest customer. It was barely into noon meal, and the place was scarce of people. Only two sat at the bar, and a few sparse couples sat eating an early lunch.
"Greetings, and welcome to the Nekohanten." Mousse stated, squinting to make out the face of his customer. The customer, obviously male, nodded.
"I new here." He stated to Mousse. "I hungry. You feed me?" he questioned in broken Chinese. Mousse could only hold back from laughing at this foreigner come to dine at the Nekohanten. Mousse nodded, moving towards a vacant table.
"Is this not a restaurant?" he answered. The customer followed behind Mousse. They arrived at a vacant table and Mousse gestured for the man to sit. And sit the man did. He shrugged off a large training pack, and dropped it to the floor loudly. He moaned in relief, and sunk into the seat. Mousse became intrigued by this man. Not many foreigners made it this deep into China and survived.
"What will you have?" Mousse asked, trying to study the man closer. Alas it was fruitless. Without his glasses to aid him, he could make out no more than the mans blue shirt, and long, oily, black hair. The man sighed putting his hands on the table.
"Uh…anything. I a hungry man." He answered. Mousse turned smiling. He headed to the kitchen. Weary travelers always needed good food.
Shortly Mousse returned, serving the man himself. He set the bowl of rice in front of the man, and he instantly whipped out a pair of handmade chop sticks and devoured it. Mousse, still concealing his grin, sets the fish and noodles in front of the famished man. Between mouthfuls of noodles, fish and rice, the man mumbled.
"*Domoo! Domoo arigato!*"
Mousse raised an eyebrow. He’d been thanked in Japanese. That mean this man’s native language was probably Japanese. For a moment Mousse recalled the year he’d spend in Japan. It seemed like only a faded memory. After a few more moments, the man had licked clean the bowl, and plate, and concealed his chopsticks. He sat back, pleased with the meal. Mousse looked at him, and, thinking the words over and said.
"What brings you to our village?" the man looked at Mousse again, translating the words in his head.
"Training." He answered. "Looking for something." He added. Mousse raised an eyebrow.
"Forgive me if I’m being rude, but you say training? As is martial arts?" Mousse inquired. The man looked up, almost sadly.
"No, Girls Rhythmic Gymnastic." He sighed. "Yes, martial arts." Mousse scratched his head, and pulled his long silken cord of hair around front. He twirled his thick hair in his fingers.
"Ah. You’re accent is familiar. Are you native to Japan?" he asked. The man nodded.
"*Hai.*" he responded. Mousse nodded.
"Duck-boy!" an old voice called out from somewhere. Mousse turned and ducked instinctively. "Are you talking to the customers again?" the voice shirked, speaking quickly. "Get back to work!"
"I hear you!" Mousse muttered. He turned to the man again. "Where are you staying?" he questioned. He had not seen someone from outside the village in years. He wished to hear of the outside news, and if this man had traveled through Japan, perhaps he had tales to tell.
"Where I be permitted." He answered. Mousse shook his head. A common answer meaning on the road. However it did not come across exactly right in his poor Chinese.
"I have a room to spare. If you will pay for your bill, I can set you up working in the kitchen and you may spend the night in the room." Mousse suggested. The man seemed put off by the notion of doing kitchen work.
"That is work for girl." He answered. Mousse narrowed his eyes.
"You don’t want the room then?" he asked.
"Did I say that?" the man replied, rising. He handed Mousse Japanese Yen to cover the meal costs. Mousse nodded, and headed to the kitchen. The man picked his bag up, swung it on his shoulder, and followed.


Both Mousse and the foreigner worked hard throughout the day, and when the Nekohanten closed both were equally tired. However hard the work was, tiring and humiliating, the foreigner had not complained once. Mousse respected him for that. A true martial artist accepted his work without complaint. Skilled and well trained male warriors were a rare find in the Amazons village. This one had just better watch who he picked to train with.

Mousse led the man to the spare room behind the restaurant. He kept his hands folded, hidden, beneath the folds of his long cream kimono. Once in the room, the man dropped his pack once more and turned to Mousse.
"I…thank you for…nice room." He said and sighed. "Chinese language is not my language. Forgive if I speak wrong." He added. Mousse nodded. This warrior was polite as well.
"Indeed." Mousse answered. "And you are forgiven. Mastering different languages is quiet hard. I’ve tried."
At this the man raised an eyebrow. "You know more language than Chinese?" he asked. Mousse nodded.
"Chinese is my native language, but I have mastered the American and Japanese tongues. I can also write the characters of the Japanese." Mousse answered smiling.
It was apparent some of Mousses words had been lost to the man, but he understood the idea. "Two languages? Impressed are I." He answered.
Mousse watched the man remove his shoes as he entered the room. Only more evidence to his natural Japanese heritage. "Tell me, what is the news in Japan." Mousse asked. The man looked up.
"I…not know. I not stay in place in Japan that have news." He said. Mousse’s brow furrowed.
"How long have you been training?" he inquired. The man looked at the floor.
"Many year." He replied.
"In China?" Mousse asked. The man looked up.
"I know not when I came into China again." he man replied.
"Again?" Mousse questioned, interested.
The man nodded. "I came to China once before. A younger boy then." he clenched his fist slightly. "Mistake." He spoke.
"I said that when I went to Japan."
At this the man looked up. He pushed a strand of his long black hair out of his eyes. "You’ve been to Japan?" he asked. Mousse nodded, thinking back.
"The woman I wished to make my wife…went to Japan after traveling across China. I, remaining loyal, followed her." He answered. The man seemed intrigued.
"Was she in training?" he asked. Mousse nodded no.
"In our village it is custom for a woman who is best by a male outsider to marry that man. She was best, and by law, she followed him to Japan until she could convince him to marry her." Mousse answered, slightly upset. "I followed her because I could not allow this man to take the one I loved as his bride. He didn’t even love her." He added. The man nodded, as if in understanding.
"I have similar tragedy tale." The man said. Mousse nodded.
"Lives are often plagued with tragedy." Mousse said. Then he added. "Did you leave Japan because she had found someone else?" the man shook his head no.
"I no want to talk about her." He stated. Mousse straightened. This man too, had pride. He put the past behind him, and continued life. Except…
"You say you’ve been training for years now?" Mousse asked after a long silence. The man looked up from where he had sat on the cot like bed.
"Many year." He repeated. Mousse thought a moment longer.
"Are you training to fight someone?" he inquired. He was perplexed by this mans dedication.
"The only one I want to fight killed himself." The man answered. Mousse blinked.
"Suicide?" he questioned. "Honorably or not?" Mousse asked. The man snorted.
"Dishonorably!" he said loudly. "He mad and fall." He added.
"You are upset because you could not finish him off?" Mousse asked. The man nodded.
"He…he was to be woman I loved…her...*fiancee*." he stuttered, not knowing enough Chinese. Apparently Mousse understood.
"Fiancee." he said. Then added. "But if her fiancee killed himself, why did you not take the opportunity to date her?" he asked, turned and pulling up a chair for himself to sit in.
"I did." The man sadly said. "She…h-hat…" he trailed off wrapping his arms around himself.
Mousse thought he could see tears in the mans eyes. He quickly diverted the subject. "What form or art are you training in?" Mousse asked. The man shook his head, not minding the loose strands of hair that fell loose. He mutely replied.
"Whatever I can. Anything goes." He answered. Mousse nodded, and rose.
"I shall depart for tonight. Come into the store when you are ready for breakfast." He answered. The man looked up, all signs of the last few moments past.
"I only stay one night." He firmly stated. Mouse nodded, and bowed a little.
"As is your desire." He replied. He turned to the door, and then back to the man.
"How impolite of me to treat a guest. I am Mussu." He said, introducing. "Please call me that." he added. The man rose, and gave Mousse a slight bow.
"My name in Chinese is Yachi-yunqi." He stated, giving only his first name. "You may call me that." he repeated as well.
Mousse nodded. "Well then, Yachi-yunqi, sleep well." He turned and departed the building after that, leaving Yachi-yunqi to sleep.

Yachi-yunqi sat on his cot like bed a moment after Mousse left. He knew that he’d been here before. In this part of China. Last time he’d crossed through China those many years ago. When he’d crossed into…Jusenkyou. He shivered coldly. Being this close to the Cursed Springs made his hair stand on end. He estimated he was within one days walking distance, if not closer, to the springs. Although he’d wanted, forever, to return to the springs and find the Nanniichuan, he was hesitant now. The springs scared him now, for he’d heard of the ultimate curse of the cursed springs. Once something drowned in the cursed spring, whoever fell into that spring next would take the body of the creature who drowned there. He learned though, that whoever next fell into that same spring, would gain the tainted curse, turning into that creature, and then some random features of whatever else had plunged into the spring.
He knew of several who lived in Japan with a Jusenkyou curse, who would kill to get their hands on the water from the Nanniichuan. If any of them had come to China and found the Nanniichuan…and USED it, he would gain their curse, as well as the springs curse, and random curses of anyone else who’d gone into the spring. He’d rather stay in one cursed form, than to become a freak of nature.
He lay back on the cot thinking about his life and soon fell asleep, with a belly full of food.

Cologne hit Mousse on the head with her ancient stick. Mousse reeled back in anger.
"And what was THAT for?!" he cried, rubbing his head. Cologne narrowed her eyes at him.
"What is the meaning of giving away Shampoo’s old room to some martial arts trainee?!" she cried, hopping onto her stick. Mousse cringed at the way the old ghoul stated it.
"I was interested in him! Not often do I get to speak to outsiders who are male. He is from Japan, and I was curious to the news outside our village." Mousse commented. Cologne muttered.
"All that happens in this village is all YOU need to know. Stop daydreaming about life beyond this place, because you’re never getting out of here as long as I’m alive." She howled. Mousse clenched his fists at his side.
"Am I still not allowed to know of the real world?" he shouted.
Cologne coughed. "When you bound yourself permanently to this village you gave up all thoughts of the ‘real’ world!" she retorted. Mousse laughed.
"Had I known my bride would take her life, I would not have made the sacrifice!" Mousse cried.
Cologne slapped him harshly across the face with her gnarled hand. His cheek went red and swelled, and a trickle of blood ran from his nose. She was old, but she was the best fighter among many. Her slaps not only had power and force, but she was a master at techniques and could easily kill someone with a well placed slap. Mousse clenched his jaw and took the rap.
He may have been wrong in insulting his late wife, but he found no reason to be denied all information of the outside world. What harm was this foreigner going to do besides tell him a few training tales and some news from beyond the village? Cologne remained silent and then spoke.
"This one may stay, but do not make a habit of bringing in stray foreigners! The next one will be dealt with accordingly." She warned. She turned and hopped a few feet away, and then turned back to him. "This one I will talk to. The last foreigner to cross our village was the one that took us to Japan. Only the strongest travel through here." She added, and turned and left.

Mousse relaxed after she departed, and wiped the blood off his lip. He sighed. She was his great-grandmother now, marriage to Shampoo had seen that, but her ways grew ever stingier, as if she blamed him instead of Saotome for Shampoo’s death. He sighed and turned, departing to his room. He would deal with Yachi-yunqi tomorrow.

To Be Continued…


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