Kouyuu's Loft [Open]

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

A few days ago I had gotten into a school yard fight after a disputed basketball match. When my mother saw my wounds she said I was moving to live with my godfather Kouyuu. I protested - I had never met this Kouyuu fellow. When I asked my mother to describe him she said three things: he has a serious looking face, he wears fitted suits exclusively, and he was once the village's top Mednin before being foiled by his archnemesis. I pressed her to elaborate on the last point, but she shushed me and told me to go sleep.

Now here I am. I could have walked here from home but mother insisted that I take an Übermensch, or uber as the kids say. Übermensch is a firm that rides people around in rickshaws, three wheeled carriages powered by the company's eponymous "super men". You'd have to be a superman to regularly power a rickshaw and not die from exhaustion. The uber arrived in front of my godfather's loft just around night fall. I paid the fare and got off.

I was wearing my street clothes: a blue blouse and white shorts. I was footless. What did you expect? I'm not some rich bourgeoisie. I wear sandals during formal occasions but I can't afford luxuries like footwear on normal days. Attached to me with a baby pin was a note from my mother. In large letters it read - "Oishi Tsuchimenchou". It was a letter meant for my godfather, presumably with advice on how to raise me.

I had brought along all my earthly possessions, which amounted to a few changes of clothing, a journal, and a map to the lost kingdom of Trantor. I was accompanied by my pet turkeys of course: Gravy, Mashed Potatoes and Cranberry. They each carried with them their personal items.

I went up to the door and knocked thrice. Knock, knock, knock.

I thought for a moment. How should I refer to this man? Did he identify as a man? I was not sure. I opted to be careful and said, "Hello! Godparent? It is your godchild, Oishi Tsuchimenchou. That's ancient for delicious turkey. You can call me Tsuchi for short though. That means soil."

I looked down at the turkeys, "That's a joke too dontcha see? Since we live in the village hidden in the sand. Soil, sand, get it? Eh eh?"

 

[Kouyuu]

The muffled sounds of papers shuffling and dishes clatterring abruptly emanated from behind the door. Then, the sound of porcelain shattering. The visitor's announcement seemed to have interrupted something.

"Watson!" called a flustered voice inside. "The door!"

The faint scratches of footsteps drew towards the entrance. The dull sound of clacks and clicks erupted from the thick, wooden door. Bolts turned, locks and keys twisted, and chains unfurled, all to allow this wayward visitor to introduce themselves. Further instruction was offered to the faithful servant opening the door: "If it's one of those dreadful umbrella salespersons, dispose of them and bury them with the rest! Their jokes already sound just as awful!"

Finally unlocked, the door groaned open with heavy creak. There at the entrance, welcoming the visitors was a turkey. It waddled forward a few inches, and its necked bobbed about, to peer more closely at the four guests. It seemed unsure of what to make of them. It then stared squarely at the human child with intense, beady little eyes. It awaited an explaination for the visit.

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

I stood back as the door opened. I think it was opening at least, as it took almost a year for the various locks to be taken off. Sietch Zensunna was not the wealthiest residential district in the village, but it was hardly dangerous enough to merit this level of protection. Had I been sent to live with a tinfoil hat wearing quack?

No, I thought to myself as an adult turkey appeared behind the door, my godfather was not a duck but a different type of bird altogether. I allowed myself a quick look before averting my eyes elsewhere. Mother had raised me to ignore people's looks if at all possible. She said it was too easy to judge a person on physical appearance when what mattered was their smell.

"Godfather Kouyuu?" I spoke towards the turkey, "It is I your godchild. Tsuchimenchou. These three are my friends, Gravy, Mashed Potatoes, and Cranberry. I emphasize that Cranberry is not named Cranberry Sauce. A common misunderstanding."

I pointed towards the turkey trio, who each gave a small bow towards the larger bird.

"Ugh..." I pointed towards the note attached to me, "This is from mother. She said it would explain everything. Which I think is awfully presumptuous. The Orange Catholic Bible is supposed to explain the faith and that thing is huge! How could this note explain everything?"

 

[Kouyuu]

Watson tilted his head and let out a soft, confused chirp. He was still very unsure of what to make of these visitors. As far as he could remember, Kouyuu had no living relations, and his eccentricities left him with few, if any friends. The only callers to his residence tended to be either nuisances or related to official business. Regardless, he took the note in his beak. It wasn't his decision, and he didn't particularly care.

Kouyuu, for his part, continued on as normal inside, barely aware of what was being said at the door. He sat at his modest table in his equally modest parlor intensely focused on stacking teacups and plates on each other. He squinted with one eye as he delicately placed another cup on the top of the tower--his second attempt after the earlier knock on the door broke his focus. As the teacup came to rest at the top, the tower began to wobble and the porcelain clinked against itself. His heart went still. He blew a stream of air onto the tower, and it seemed to gradually balance itself. As he smugly admired his own quick thinking and architectural achievement, he suddenly noticed that Watson had yet to slam the door shut on the visitor. Either it was an unexpectedly important matter or a particularly persistent umbrella salesperson. It seemed to require his attention regardless.

He carefully rose from his seat, avoiding any sudden movement that could cause the teacup tower to collapse, and walked towards the door. Some mention of cranberries caught his ear. He grimaced at the mention. At the door he found a small, ambiguously gendered child and three juvenile turkeys. It seemed cranberry cartel was recruiting a younger and younger salesforce. Perhaps they were developing a sales routine to con unsuspecting victims into believing their purchase helps support little orphan children. He approached the door.
"We have no interest in your wares, cranberrymonger," he said sternly. "At any rate, cranberries give me horrible g-"

Watson presented him the visitor's note before Kouyuu could finish that train of thought. It seemed to him that the visitor was just a simple courier. He removed a pair of spectacles from his coat pocket and opened the note. He had been expecting some news concerning his recent reassignment and perhaps this was it.

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

As I wait for my godfather's cranberry hating servant to read my mother's letter, let me provide the reader with a flashback of the events that led to this moment. My mother, a former Mednin, had awful penmanship so we will likely take some time for her writing to be deciphered. It all started a few days ago in the shinobi academy's school yard. I was dressed in the standard issue blue colored sailor uniform, a uniform which no one else ever seemed to wear I might add. I was playing with my the turkey trio when we were interrupted by a gang of hooligans...

"What are you doing here?" said Kyou. She was a girl a year older than I. We had been childhood friends. Both our mothers were hippies and we had been raised in the same commune during our toddler years.

"Maybe you did not hear me," she repeated, "What are you doing in my school yard?"

I had heard. I might not have a gender, but I had two perfectly functioning ears. I averted her eye sight and continued my playing. At least I tried to until one of the hooligans, a large scruffy looking boy, tried to kick Cranberry. I quickly threw myself to save the baby turkey from a direct hit.

"Ouch!" I shouted after my stomach made impact with the boy's foot.

"How many times do I have to tell you? Your type is not welcome here. Choose a side already!" Kyou said.

"And how many times do I have to tell you," I said as I picked myself up, "I do not want a gender. No need for one. Gender is for dumb dumbs."

"Dumb dumbs?" She glared at me with her red eyes.

"Yeah dumb dumbs." I said. It was then that Cranberry, who had run away, threw a basketball towards me. I caught and dribbled it.

"If you want me to leave your yard so badly you'll have to beat me in a basketball game." I said.

They proceeded to beat me and my teammates 40-3. When I told mother about the incident she said that I was going to live with my godfather until I mastered free throws. -And here we are now. Melodramatic? Yes, very much so.

"So..." I said toward the man servant, "Are you going to offer us tea? That is what you butler people do right?"

 

[Kouyuu]

Kouyuu tore open the envelope, and quickly began scanning the note. His brow furrowed. He twisted the paper sideways, upside down and every other manner of direction as he attempted to read it. The writing was completely indecipherable. His first instinct was that it was written in code. Perhaps it was a test of his skills and his promotion was contingent on his ability to decipher it. In that case, he had no time to waste.

"I'm going to need to consult my cryptology references," he muttered. His train of thought was briefly interrupted. The courier wanted tea. "Tea is an excellent idea. Watson, brew some for our guests. I suppose I don't normally invite couriers in for tea, but this letter is possibly cause for celebration."
Watson waddled inside towards the kitchen. Kouyuu returned to the table and took a seat. There was an open chair for his guest. His teacup tower was still intact and incomplete but the note had his full attention for the moment.

"Come inside and have a seat," he offered. "And please lock the door behind you."

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

They want me to lock the door myself? And they are ordering their master to make the tea? This butler is not much of a butler. I said nothing though and instead did I was told. When I turned around I found the previously empty chair taken by the three turkeys. I would have tried squeezing in, but Cranberry was an especially fat bird and took half the cushion himself.

The butler aside, my godfather was a curious creature. Going by his feathers, he was not a native of Wind Country. If I did not know any better, I could think he was from the legendary Candy Country. The oral histories, the stories Ma used to tell me when I was smaller, say that long ago there existed a small kingdom to the north of Wind Country, hidden in the lust forests between us and Fire Country. In this country lived candy people, refugees from the Waffle Wars. They were ruled by the wise God-King Mango and were a prosperous land. Any and all refugees were welcome in the kingdom. Then one day the God-King was accidentally eaten by his niece Evaline. Without their God-King to protect them a plague consumed the candy people, until only a bird shaped marshmallow survived.

The lone survivor is said to be an eternal wanderer now, looking for a new place to rebuild Candy Country in.

By the way Candy Country is spelled with the 飴 (Candy) character , 飴の国 (Candy Country) in full. This is not to be confused with the 雨 character.

"Hey suit person," I said toward the butler as I sat down on the floor, "The old bird is not a follower of the Evaline Cult is he? Ma said that Evaline's followers had died off."

 

[Kouyuu]

"My mother wrote her dissertation on the cult of Evaline," he mentioned off-handedly. His attention was still squarely focused on reading the note, and maintaining the polite facade of interest and hospitality for his guest was entirely secondary. By now, he had grabbed a pen and sheet of scratch paper, trying to trace the basic outline of the characters written on the illegible note. It seemed that it actually was written in the common language, but the writer had used a style of handwriting that buried the characters underneath scribbles and smudges of ink and cranberry sauce. Equally clever and infuriating, he thought. "And I couldn't even begin to answer your question. Watson is intensely private when it comes to matters of religion."

From the kitchen, came the high, piercing sound of a teapot whistling. Watson already had a kettle on the stove prior to the visitor arriving. It was just a short matter of bringing it to the proper temperature and adding the tea leaves to infuse. The clatter of teacups and plates followed and sure enough, Watson emerged from the kitchen door waddling behind a small, wooden kitchen cart, gradually poking it forward with his beak. He placed the cart at the foot of the parlor table, letting the guests take their fill of tea. On the cart were 5 sets of mismatched teacups and saucers, accompanied by a small plate of cakes.

“Thank you, Watson,” Kouyuu acknowledged. Watson returned to the kitchen, evidently uninterested in the ongoing conversation in the parlor. Kouyuu reached for a cup and saucer, not even bothering to move his sight from the note, and placed them on the table. He then picked up the kettle. “You know,” he intoned as he slowly poured his serving of tea. “While you’re in my residence, enjoying my tea and cakes, I would at the very least expect the courtesy of being referred to by my given name, or at least some kind of blank honorific. Mr. Kouyuu would work.”

He placed the kettle on the cart and resumed deciphering the note.

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

I raised my eye brow at hearing the butler call godfather Watson's residence as his own. I had heard that some staff, especially veterans, were known to consider themselves de facto members of the household. The man before me looked too young to be a pro butler though. I looked back to Watson to try to read his reaction, but he had already scurried away. One thing was for certain - Watson was a recluse.

"Yes Mister Kouyuu..." I said as I grabbed one of the cakes and threw it towards two of my turkey companions, Cranberry and Mashed Potatoes. The third, Gravy, seemed to have disappeared. Had he gone to ask godfather Watson for coffee instead?

As I drank my tea the butler would likely finish reading the letter. How had it gone again? Mother said I was not supposed to have read it but, being a ten year old, I took a peek. Having a photographic memory meant that a peek was enough to remember it by heart. It went:

"Dearest Omoikao Kouyuu,

I hope to find you in good health. I hope you remember me. We once shared a Übermensch rickshaw on our way to a book sale. I asked you if you would be my soon-to-born's godfather. You did not turn me down at the time, so I assumed you were delighted and agreed. The child wearing this note, Shichimenchou, is said child.

They have been getting into trouble recently. I have tried raising them as best as I could, but nothing I do works. I keep trying to get them to read Agatha Christie's works, but they insist that they would rather watch Yogi Bear and Friends. I do not know where I went wrong with them. I suspect I let them read Arthur books for too long and that spoiled their mind. The other day I caught them trying to eat ants with a straw.

I am entrusting you to raise them. I am confident that you will be a good influence on them and teach them to develop the ability to discriminate good and bad literature, I considered sending them to foster care instead, but I trust you, someone who I saw reading, more than a stranger who may prefer other past times. I also trust you, as someone who seeks out book sales, are frugal enough to make the attached ten thousand yen note be sufficient to pay for the child's necessities.

Forever yours,
Mom"

The letter was not actually signed mom of course. That was just how I remembered the letter. It was hard for me to think of mom as anything but mom. What kind of kid thinks of their parents' given names? That is weird.

 

[Kouyuu]

Kouyuu frowned. The note certainly didn't contain any mention of a promotion or pay raise or any mention of improved career prospects for that matter. He sighed. He peeled off the banknote stuck to the letter with cranberry sauce, and placed it on the table. He grimaced and wiped the sticky residue off his fingers. Even ignoring the stickiness, the banknote was laughably worthless. After factoring in exchange rates between Wind and Fire Country currency and differences in living costs, the banknote barely covered a week's worth of rent, let alone the necessary expenses to raise a young child. And then the contents of the note itself defied credulity. A childhood friend that he hadn't spoken to in more than a decade was supposed to have sent their only begotten child halfway across the continent, accompanied solely by a trio of juvenile turkeys with nothing but the clothes on their backs and an illegible note? Rank nonsense. There was something afoot here. His old friend was odd and eccentric, even when compared to himself, but not so irrational and cruel, was she? The pattern of behavior simply didn't match his recollection of his companion. The letter was clearly fraudulent.

"Child," he said slowly. He paused, and turned to stare at the child sitting on the floor, sipping tea. "Were you sent here to impersonate my godchild and assassinate me?" It was a wild guess, but the only explanation that he could think up at the moment. He had investigated and prosecuted more nefarious people than he could count. It would be entirely expected if a mafioso had put out a hit on him. Some low level underling could have put together this half-baked scheme to plant this child close to him and kill him when he least expected it.

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

I cocked my head at hearing the butler ask if I had been sent to kill them. That was ridiculousness. Why would the life of a butler care to anyone? I shook my head left and right.

"No!" I said, "I AM Oishi Shichimenchou! 1st born of my mother! Heir to the Oishi fortune!"

I finished the remainder of my tea and slammed the cup on the nearest coaster.

"How do I know you are not an impersonater trying to capture me and steal the Oishi family fortune?" I raised my eyebrows. "It is no secret that we are the owners of the Bakunin toilet patent. Every toilet from here to Lightning Country is based on our ancestral IP."

 

[Kouyuu]

"Hmm, yes," he replied coolly. "But I don't have any reason to believe you, now do I? You have nothing to support your claim except this note that came from a remedial penmanship lesson and your own word, and you've given me no basis to put faith in either."

He took another sip of his tea.

"Perhaps if I was going out of my way to find you, you'd have a barely believable counter-accusation," he continued. "But you are the one who approached me, and I have no interest in the supposed inheritance of a family of patent trolls. I maintain my belief that this is just a poorly planned and horribly executed assassination attempt, or an attempt to plant a spy at my side at best. You even seemed to be under the impression that Watson was the target you were assigned. I mean, my name is right here in the letter. You should at least try to memorize the script you were given. If you weren't attempting to manipulate the memories of my good friend, I'd almost feel sorry for you."

 

[Oishi Shichimenchou]

"Pa-patent troll!?" My hands shook, "How dare you! I know I am short but that is no reason to suggest I belong to the troll race. Your ears are a bit edged, but you are not an elf are you?"

I entertained the thought for a moment. If I were a troll and this man an elf, did that mean that Watson was a dragon?

I raised my hand. Not waiting to be called upon I asked my question, "Wait wait. Before we go any further. Would you say that Watson is a dragon? Or is he more of a phoenix?"

 

[Kouyuu]

"Watson is a turkey, of course," he replied, knowingly. "And I don't have any elf heritage as far as I'm aware."

He stared closely at the child. After his accusation, he wasn't quite sure how to proceed. If he threw the little assassin out of his house, it was quite possible that the planners wouldn't treat the child kindly. Worse yet, they'd probably just pick up another little tramp off the streets and send them with a letter claiming that they were his long lost younger sibling. There was also the very remote possibility that the child was telling the truth and their mother had simply gone off the deep end since they'd last been in contact. Regardless, the best option seemed to stall for time.

"Well, I don't know what the mafia would do to you if I threw you out," he said. His face gave the impression that he was thinking aloud to himself rather than speaking to the child. "I suppose I'll have to keep you around until you either get the courage to make an assassination attempt or you figure out how to prove your identity." He shrugged to himself. He stood up from his chair. He had finished his tea and left his cup and platter on the table. "Of course, while you stay here, I expect you to earn your keep. You can start by cleaning up here and assisting Watson in the kitchen. In the evening, I'll show you your room."

Without a further word, he walked to a corner room in the back of the parlor, entered and shut the door.