by R W Sowrider
With each visit to the chamber, Rowen’s eyes seemed to adjust a little better to the light reflecting off the gold walls, silver adornments, and crystal chandeliers, as well as to the light emanating from behind Delemor. And as Rowen poured his heart out, he could swear that Delemor was tearing up. That he was actually touched by Rowen’s sincere feelings for Xera. And moved by her plight.
Despite Delemor remaining stone-faced throughout, Rowen felt that his suspicion was confirmed when a fist-sized diamond tear fell from the corner of Delemor’s eye, rolled down his snout, and landed on the table with a thud.
“You can keep that,” Delemor said, indifferently. “Anything else?”
“Well … I guess I failed, but I always tried to think of commoners.”
“Yeah, you definitely failed there. But I don’t feel the need to dock you any points for that. Anything else?”
“Ummm … No, I think that’s about it. I tried to be good … and loyal … and loving …and compassionate. And I think I did a pretty good job?”
“Ummm … I’d like to say that this is a tough decision, my little ball-less wonder, but I’m afraid it’s not. However, since I really enjoyed those times that Xera molested you – it’s not every day you get to see a woman try to force a man to finger bang her – I’m gonna give you another chance. Get outside and wash that nauseating stink off and we can ch at again.”
As the door swung open, cool mist again flooded the chamber and Rowen did what was fast becoming the walk of shame down to the bathing facilities where he again contemplated the bottles of shimmering liquid.
“I guess I’m supposed to use the chocolate-colored one this time?” Rowen called out.
“It’s up to you.” Delemor replied.
“May I ask what it is?”
“What do you think it is?”
“Ahhh … chocolate-scented shampoo?”
“Well, if that’s what you think it is, then why are you asking me? Go ahead and use it already.”
Rowen squirted a small blob of the gooey liquid onto the top of his head and was instantly overwhelmed by a revolting stench.
“What the heck is this?” he shrieked.
“Sheep shit,” Delemor replied, flatly.
“Why is there a bottle of sheep shit at a bathing facility?”
“I think the better question is: Why did you just dump a pile of sheep shit on your head? And the answer is: Because you have horrible judgment. You should listen to me more. And right now, my advice is to use the crimson or cream-colored shampoo to wash that shit off your head.”
Once Rowen had washed the unpleasantness off of his head and was basking in the transcendent tingling of the cream-colored shampoo, he noticed a curious sight on the third lowest pine cluster of the miniature evergreen tree.
A cartoonish gecko-like creature with no hind legs was using its forelegs to force-feed its tail into its mouth. Further, it was chomping down on the tail, chewing, and swallowing. Chomp-chomp. Chew-chew-chew. Swallow.
Mid-chew on its third bite, the creature realized that it was being watched. After calmly swallowing, it looked Rowen dead in the eye and smiled. “Stop staring at me! ”
Rowen immediately averted his eyes, pulling the old I-wasn’t-looking-at-you.-Why-would-I-be-looking-at-you,-jerk?-If-anything,-you-were-looking-at-me.-Asswipe! maneuver.
He had picked a poor place to avert his eyes to though, as he found himself staring at the chocolate-colored – well shit-colored – shampoo and reliving the recent traumatic event.
As he reflexively turned away from the shampoos, he was met with the pleasant sight of Aphrodite sauntering down the path, tray in hand.
Rowen’s breath was again taken away by her flowing blond hair, voluptuous curves, and teardrop beauty mark.
She smiled seductively as she reached him. “Care for a drink?”
“Yes, please.”
About halfway through the delightful beverage, Rowen recalled the curious gecko-like creature. “Is that gecko eating itself?” he asked.
“What gecko?”
“That one,” Rowen replied, pointing at the now empty tree branch. “He was right there. Munching on his tail. It was queerest thing.”
“If you stick around here long enough, you’ll see more oddities than you can handle,” Aphrodite replied. “Anyhow, care for a dip?”
“Yes, please.”
Rowen waded into the soothingly warm water and as he began drifting along a current, he felt Aphrodite’s hands on his shoulders. “Can you give me a piggy back ride?” she breathed into his ear.
“Yes, please.”
Rowen almost fainted at the touch of Aphrodite’s hands, so when he felt her supple breasts rubbing against his back, he almost imploded in ecstasy.
He was so spellbound that he almost failed to notice another mortal pass by on an opposing current at less than an arm’s length away.
“Was that Sera?” he blurted out when the encounter finally registered.
“I don’t know,” Aphrodite replied, dismissively. “Who’s Sera?”
“She’s the girl that I’ve been with in all three of my lives so far.”
“Hm. Never heard of her.”
“She was the love of my life each time.”
“Interesting,” Aphrodite replied, flatly. “When you were with her, did she always have a look on her face as if she were passing gas?”
“… No.”
“Probably wasn’t her then.”
Despite Aphrodite’s brush-off, Rowen couldn’t help but feel that that was indeed Sera. And further, that she too was floating along a current with a light-emitting being. A God.
“Oh, look,” Aphrodite abruptly called out. “There’s Zeus—God of the Sky, Lightning, and Non-Consensual Sex.”
“Yikes,” Rowen gasped. He looked up to find that they were approaching a small, circular island of pristine sand. In the middle, hovering over a giant crystal orb, was Zeus.
He looked like your everyday human grandpa, except that his muscles were absolutely ripped and he somehow managed to give off vibes of both magnificence and homelessness.
As Rowen walked up the beach, the picture came further into focus. Zeus had a full head of long, wavy white hair, but his face was clean-shaven. His piercing gold eyes were focused to the point of obsession on a vision inside the orb and he was licking his thick lips, slobbering all over the place.
“Hi, Zeus,” Aphrodite said when it was clear that he wasn’t going to notice their arrival. “This is Rowen. ”
Zeus looked up, smiling excitedly.
Rowen couldn’t help but smile back at the exuberant God whose nose bulged as if it had been broken several times and whose smile revealed a large gap between his front teeth.
“Hi, Rowen,” Zeus said. His voice was enthusiastically high. “I’m Zeus, son of Kronos—God of Ambition, Contradiction, and Eating Newborn Babies.”
“Eating newborn babies?!” Rowen repeated, incredulously.
“Yeah, he ate all my older brothers and sisters. He thought he ate me too, but it turned out to be a rock in a blanket.”
“He thought you were a rock in a blanket?”
“Yeah, my mother’s very clever. After she gave birth to me, but before my father ate me, she wrapped a rock in a blanket and was like, ‘Here’s your newborn son to eat.’ So he swallowed the rock down, blanket and all … you know, because he thought it was me. So he kinda presides over the whole baby-eating territory.”
“…”
“Anyway, you came at a great time.” Zeus pointed to the vision in the orb. “Check this out.”
Rowen peered into the globe and saw a beautiful handmaiden attending an even more beautiful woman of high-standing.
“Isn’t she a spectacle,” Zeus said, enchanted. “Look at those long legs, that porcelain skin, and those seductive dark eyes. Not only is she the most beautiful princess of her time, but she’s also the most virtuous and intelligent.”
“Yeah, she’s a vision of
perfection.”
“You wanna go down there, morph into a swan or bull or something, and rape ’em? You can have the handmaiden.”
“… Ummm … I’m not really sure about that.”
“C’mon, it’ll be fun. Look how hot they are. ”
“I’m not sure raping them is the right thing to do.”
“Don’t be such a wet blanket.”
“… But it doesn’t even make sense. Why would you change into an animal to have your way with her?”
Zeus was stunned at the absurdity of the question. “What are you talkin’ about?! If I went down there as Me, I’d never even get near her. Mortals aren’t nearly as dumb as you’d think. They’re wise to Our antics so you’ve gotta trick ’em.”
“But as an animal?”
“Yeah, women love animals. They’re all, ‘Oh, look at this beautiful swan, lemme cuddle up with it.’ Or, ‘Oh, look how handsome this bull is, lemme get with it.’”
“Why don’t you just take the form of her boyfriend or husband or whatever. Then you wouldn’t even have to rape her. You could just have sex with her like a normal couple. She’d never even know.”
Zeus’ jaw dropped at this universe-shattering concept. “Holy Crap!” he cried, “You’re a genius! Thanks, bud. Thanks!”
And with that, Zeus plunged head first into the orb, a surreal hum ringing out as he was sucked in.
“Rowen!” Delemor roared. “Enough ogling the talent. It’s time to get down to business.”
Rowen waded back into the soothing water, drifted to shore, and scrambled up the path to Delemor’s chamber where he once again sat reverentially on his heels across from the awe-inspiring Delemor, perched high on his throne.
“So,” Delemor said. “What can I do for you this time?”
Relatively used to the process, Rowen had been considering his last life while drifting along the current. “Well, to be honest, the way my last life ended is really eating at me.”
“You didn’t like being torn apart limb from limb?”
“No. It’s not sitting well with me. ”
“So you’d rather be on the limb-tearing side then, eh?”
“No, not really. It would be great if there were no mobs ripping bodies apart at all.”
Delemor snorted. “Sounds boring. But go on.”
“I think I’d really like it if the people didn’t hate me. If possible, I’d like to be a man of the people. … Maybe even something like a folk hero.”
“A folk hero?!”
“Yeah, where I’m able to do something great that the people see as an inspiration and tell tales and sing songs of.”
“Wow. That is asking a lot. … But since I’m in such a generous mood today, I think I can arrange it.”
“Great!”
“How does being a hero in an epic civil war that changes the course of your country forever sound?”
“Outstanding!”
“However, during that war, you meet your demise. And it’ll be pretty gory.”
“Less outstanding…”
“But you’ll be losing your life for your people, and songs will indeed be sung in your honor.”
“Well, if the people are gonna love me…”
“But I’m gonna have to insist that you’ll be cowardly.”
“Why would the people love a coward?”
“I didn’t say coward, I said cowardly. Listen carefully, you filthy crotchmite!”
“I’m sorry. But why would people love someone who’s cowardly?”
Delemor’s serpent tail emerged from underneath the table, hissing.
“Leave the minutiae to me, dingle. People don’t need a hero to actually be heroic. Everything gets fudged with time. If you’ve lived a life that can be molded to someone’s liking, they will sculpt you into a legend. Now do you want to be a folk hero or not? ”
“I’m sorry. Yes. Yes, I do.”
“Now since you’ve wasted my time, there will be pants pissing involved.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Shut it. This is non-negotiable. You’ve pissed me off. As a result, your pants will be pissed. Anything else, or are you ready to go?”
“Ummmmm…”
“Women and looks, you mental midget.”
“Ummmmm. I guess I’d like to have a beautiful girl and be pretty good-looking, but since you’re allowing me to become a folk hero, I will humbly leave it up to you.”
“Wow. You are finally getting it. Way to use all three of those limp neurons barely firing in your brain. You’ve earned a girl who will like you more than you could possibly want.”
“Wonderful.”
“As well as a torso to kill for.”
“A torso to kill for?”
“Yeah, you will not be lacking in the torso department. Now enough of this, these negotiations are over! Meng Po! Your drink please!”
The sweet, hunch-backed Meng Po once again emerged with her concoction for Rowen.
As he downed the bitter beverage, she grabbed him by the elbow. “Seein’ is believin’ if you believin’ what you seein’,” she sung out animatedly as she helped him to his feet. “You can bet your momma on that!”
As the sweet old deity giggled, Rowen staggered and everything faded to black.
Aizu, Japan
Mid-19 th Century AD
It is common knowledge that your whole life flashes before your eyes when you are on the verge of death. What Rowen discovered at the tender age of 14 though, is that the exact same thing happens when you try to slice your best friend’s head off with a samurai sword.
***
In the first scene that flashed by, Rowen was just three years old. He was holding a wooden sword known as a shinai [2] over his head with both hands.
“Protect …” his father called out to him.
“Aizu!” Rowen replied, swinging the shinai down in front of him as if slicing an enemy in two.
His father smiled as young Rowen glared at the dead body of his imaginary foe.
As long as he could remember, there was nothing Rowen wanted more than to be like his father, who was as intimidating as he was kind. As usual, he was dressed in a long black robe of stiff silk with a matching overcoat bearing the Aizu crest. The top of his head was shaved clean and the hair from the sides and back, which he had grown out, was oiled and folded into a topknot on the crown of his head.
He was a high-ranking samurai and the family was privileged enough to have a nice plot of land with a koi pond and a two-story wooden house. The gabled roof was made of black kawara tiles and decorated with a pair of golden shachihoko ornaments at each end .
While the shachihoko , a creature having the body of a fish and the head of a lion, offers protection and well-being, the deity whose patronage Rowen’s family sought most was Ebisu —God of Good Fortune, Mucousy Foods, and Imported Beers That Aren’t Really All That Good But Sell Well Because They’re Exotic.
Behind his three-year-old warrior-in-training self, Rowen could see his family’s statue of Ebisu on an altar built into the wall. In front of the pot-bellied deity with his huge smile and cartoonishly chubby earlobes was the daily offering of rice topped with natto (i.e., mucousy fermented beans), and a glass full of sake .
“Protect…” his father called out again.
“Tono!” Rowen cried, referring to the chief of Aizu, as he stamped his front foot down on the tatami floor while slicing another imaginary enemy in half.
***
In the next scene that flashed by, Rowen saw his eight-year-old self walking nervously down the dirt road in between his house and that of his next-door neighbor and best friend, Sean.
The two were playing hide-and-seek and as usual Sean was hiding behind a trio of Jizo statues guarding the roadway.
Sean’s father was also a high-ranking samurai and the two boys were both being groomed to take up the family trade. They shared similar interests and had almost identical personalities except for one important trait. Courage.
>
Sean didn’t seem to have a fear in the world whereas Rowen had his weaknesses and try as he might to hide them, Sean knew them all.
One of them was Jizo. In particular, the trio of Jizo statues between their homes. The stone statues were about the same height as the boys and looked like monks wearing red bibs and red berets. However, time and weather had not been kind to them and all three were faceless. As such, they never failed to send a shiver down Rowen’s spine.
“Okay, I found you,” Rowen shouted out as he approached the statues, making a concerted effort to avert his eyes.
As his call went unanswered, Rowen was forced to take a few steps into the woods so that he could peer behind the frightful figures. As expected, Sean was crouching behind them with a gigantic shit-eating grin.
“Found you,” Rowen repeated, anxious to end the game.
“You’re such a scaredy-cat,” Sean teased.
“I’m not afraid of them, they just give me the heebie-jeebies.”
“Why? They’re not bad guys, they’re good guys.”
“Why do you think they’re good guys?”
“Because Jizo is a good God. He’s the protector of babies and anyone vulnerable.”
“You’re crazy. He doesn’t help babies, he eats them.”
“No he doesn’t, he protects them.”
“Then why does he wear that creepy red bib?”
“Father says it’s so that the babies he saves can eat in the next life.”
“No, no. I don’t think so. People don’t wear bibs when they’re gonna help someone eat. People wear bibs when they’re gonna eat. Jizo definitely eats babies.”
“Quit being such a scaredy-cat.”
“I’m not scared, I just don’t like them.”
“Well if you’re not scared, then I dare you to touch one.”
“…”
“I double-dog dare you … Samurai”
“…”
Rowen’s lip started to quiver as Sean eyed him with wicked delight. It didn’t take much to get to Rowen. All you had to do was question his courage and imply that he didn’t have what it takes to become a samurai.
