Vicissitude Yang Side

by Destine Williams

  “I like it, I just want to talk to my family about it first.”

  She nods. “Sure. Take as much time as you need.” She pushes folder towards me. "Feel free to look through the rest of it."

  A weedy-thin waiter with an uneven bowl-cut brings us our order.

  I flip through the folder of simulator screenshots. There's so many simulations: Tokaido Boardwalk, Tokaido University, the inside of Twenty-Pho-Seven, the PoleControl building, a fantasy set of sky islands, a city of skyscraper-like mushrooms, a pirate ship rocking on dark blue-green seas. Photos of players getting into pods tinkering with settings. A raven-haired woman cleaving a gray coarse-furred bearman creature with a scythe. My pulse races faster and faster. Incredible.

  I spend so long looking at the pictures that my cappucino is cool by the time I touch my cup. It’s hard to keep from smiling.

  It’s only 5:30 by the time Heaven drops me off at home, so I decide to call up Ken.

  There’s a loud crinkle like a chip bag being opened. Then Ken pipes a light, “What’s up?”

  Putting the phone on the counter, I squat in front of the kitchen cabinet, unraveling King’s kibble bag. “Hey, are you busy right now?”

  “No, you want to come over and see the designs?”

  “Yeah, just let me change out of my work clothes and feed the dog,” I say, tipping King’s food into his bowl. The noise brings King scampering down the stairs. He flicks his nose with his tongue and shoves his face into the bowl.

  “Heh, you never struck me as a dog person.”

  “I’m not picky about animals. But he was kind of a gift.” I roll up the food bag and tug it away. “By the way, did Shig come in today?”

  “He did, but he left early. He was feeling kinda under the weather,” Ken says. “He’ll probably be in tomorrow. When I visited him, he seemed all fired up. Are you two working on something?”

  I close the cabinet. “Sort of. I asked him to look into something for me.”

  “Bah. Seems like everyone is looking into something these days.” Ken sighs. “Dad asked me to look into that old IT lead that got fired a while back.”

  “Fired doing what?” It’s rare for anyone to get fired from Showguns. From day one at Red Dragon Academy, work mistakes are trained out of you. I’m not sure how strict IT is, but I know that if an assassin-in-training makes a mistake then they’d get discharged faster than I can ring up a coffee at the register. Make a mistake when you’re a full-blown Showgun and getting fired would be a luxury.

  “She botched up a Data Erasure job,” Ken says. “I’m surprised they didn’t kill her though.”

  “That’s definitely a big enough no-no.” I pick my phone up and step over King to get to the stairs. “Let me get dressed, Ken. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  “Looking forward to it.”

  Someone’s eager. I head up the stairs, passing Jin who seems adamant to avoid all eye contact with me. Tossing my phone on the bed, I open the closet. Gods, what should I wear to his house? I’ve never actually visited Ken at home, or any tattooist for that matter. I pinch the seamed-edge of a black graphic tee. Something casual? No sleeves? Something funny? At that thought, I let go of the shirt. What the hell does that matter? Anything I wear is probably going to have to be removed anyway.

  I thumb through cardigans, shorts, hoodies, shirts, sweaters, blouses, jeans, only to stop and smell under my arms. I was fine at work, but still…don’t want to go to a friend’s house smelling like coffee. I should probably shower. I tug a v-necked T-shirt and shorts from its hanger. Then I turn to the bathroom. Halt at the mirror. Run my fingers through my black hair. Good, gods. I can’t go to Ken’s house with flyaway stra—

  I shake my head. Get a hold of yourself. I never worry this much about how I look when I’m with Regi.

  By the time I walk out the house, the streetlights are burning gold drops in their posts, and the chi-pole cores glow blue in between. Together they look like notes on music sheet that my mother kept on her old grand piano. I got my love of jazz from her—if you could call it love on her part. After Dad left with Kyo, her nimble fingers only churned out songs in minor, so when she played it always felt like the music equivalent of inflicting pain on herself.

  Drafts sweep half-red and green-gold leaves across Ken’s driveway. His pick-up truck rests beside the stone-walled house. Living room light glows behind the vertical blinds. I press the door bell.

  The door slides open. Ken leans against the wall, thumbs hooked inside his pockets. “Heya, step into my workshop.”

  Stepping into Ken’s house is like stepping into a past era. Half-moon lacquer tables rest against walls with layers of dust on them like an inheritance passed down through the centuries. Silk paintings line the spaces over the upholstered couches: dragons ascend to heaven, sea monsters attack boats, an empress takes her seat on her throne, and nine-tailed foxes gather around the headstones of a tomb. A pair of stone lion-dogs lick their chops beside a golden folding screen where a phoenix rises from its ashes. Silver inlay dish cabinets hold cobalt-rimmed porcelain; it’s the type of thing you’d expect an old couple would keep in their home, not a man as young as Ken.

  Ken goes to the patio in the back where dust-motes swirl in slants of coral light and close the blinds. Then he turns on the living room light. “There we go. Have a seat anywhere.”

  I pull out a diamond-back chair from the dining room table.

  Ken comes to the table with a sketchbook in hands and flips through it. “Check this one out.” He flips to the first. Mountains stand in black ink. Trees cluster the peaks, their leaves accented with red, gold, and brown leaves. At the base of it, a woman pokes her head out of a cave and looks into a mirror held by a young man in a layered robe, her eyes wide—startled, at her own reflection. Beneath it, a battered carp with tattered skin leaps into a waterfall and from the depths, it becomes a dragon.

  I tilt my head, touching the corner of the page. The mountain and dragon scene I’m familiar with already. It’s an old Pua Moana folk tale my father would tell me all the time. But I’m not sure where that cave scene comes from. “What’s the woman for?”

  “Oh that?” Ken pulls a seat out for himself. “Are you familiar with Amaterasu?”

  “She’s that sun goddess of Ise Shrine, right?”

  Ken rests his chin on top of the chair’s frame. “There’s this story where one day her brother shows up to her place, and this guy— he’s a real ass and he goes and destroys all her rice fields and just goes ham on one of her attendants and kills them with this dead horse.” He flails his arms for emphasis. “Amaterasu gets so mad that she hides in this cave, and poof the whole world is plunged into darkness. It upset everyone so much that they came up with a plan to lure her out and so they threw a party outside to get her attention. Amaterasu decided to see what the noise was and when she looked outside, there was a mirror right in front of the cave. She was so mesmerized by her own reflection that the other gods were able to catch her and bring her out of the cave.”

  I raise an eyebrow. “What made you think of that?”

  “I thought it was a nice story.” Ken pouts. “A goddess didn’t know how beautiful she was and how much the world needed her.” Pink encroaches on his face. “It’s kind of like…you know, hey, don’t think you’re not beautiful.”

  I look at the picture again of Amaterasu again. You always seem to be showing up in my life more and more these days. I go to Ise Shrine. Mai brings me my long lost Ise puzzle box. I wreck my car at Ise Shrine. I see that carving of Ise at the cave. And now this?

  Now that I look back, is it really all coincidence, or is there an invisible hand rolling the dice for me? Maybe all choices made are never really ours in the first place, and it’s just a pattern that we can’t help, but fill. More than anything right now, I feel like a train with all brakes removed, accelerating down a track that has no escape. Like walls pressing in on me. For an instant, I can’t help but wonder if my mother felt like this to
o: fate’s claws clenching her so tight that she was reduced to a mere shell of herself?

  Mother would always say, when a dream recurs, be wary. When a problem recurs, examine yourself. When a spirit recurs, you are being warned.

  Ken pulls at the lapel of his shirt and exhales. “If you don’t like it, I could draw—”

  “No, I want it.”

  Ken blinks. “Really?”

  I nod. “Where are we going to do it?”

  He jumps to his feet. “I’m gonna need you to lay flat on this.” He gestures to a long raised mat. “And you’re going to have to take that off.” He turns. “I won’t look.”

  “Alright.” I wait until he’s turned around all the way, then I take off everything I have above the waist. Window air laps at my bare skin. I fold my arms over my chest to cover my breasts. Even though I’m just here for a tattoo, a part of me is apprehensive, wondering if maybe I shouldn’t do this. Being half-naked at a male friend’s house brings a kind of vulnerability that I suddenly feel I’m not sure I’m supposed to share.

  It’s just a tattoo, just like your other tattoo. Stop over thinking it. I lay down on the mat.

  Ken finally faces me. “Alright, just let me get the needles and ink. If it hurts too much, we’ll stop at two hours for this session.”

  Goosebumps raise along my back. I’ve heard mixed stories about horimono from other assassins. Bleeding, being in so much pain that you can’t sleep, the odd case of infections, but it’s hard to know how much of another assassin’s word is truth. But Mai never speaks of her horimono. I’m not even completely certain that she has one.

  Ken’s rubber-gloved hand lands on my shoulder, sweeping my hair out of the way. “Try to relax.”

  My gaze wanders around the room, settling on a peculiar towel on the couch. The letters TRI are monogrammed onto it. “You’ve been to the Tokaido Research Institute?”

  “Huh? I’m gonna start a new job there soon,” Ken says. “I’ve only been called in for small stuff so I’m still trying to soak up as much money from PoleControl as I can, just in case.”

  “Smart.” As soon as the word leaves my lips, a sharp jab breaches my shoulder blade. My lips shrivel into a wince. Gods be dammed, that’s painful! It’s like having push pins rammed into your skin.

  “Bad?”

  I unclench my jaw, only to clench it again when the needle jabs me again. “I can handle it.”

  Ken is quiet for a while before he says, “Hey, I owe you something, don’t I?”

  I wince at another press of the needle. “Oh yeah. A story?”

  “Heh.” Ken pauses. “Have you ever heard of the Archdemon?”

  “No. Who is that?”

  “I’ve heard stories of it being an old man selling tea. Some people say it was a priestess. But rumor has it, it was the old empress that ruled Tokaido before the revolution,” Ken says. “The one that started Showguns.”

  I scoff. “She’s an Archdemon? Come on now, Ken.”

  “Hey, hey, hey. I thought so too, alright? But…” Ken smirks and wipes my back with a towel. “I’ve seen my dad do some strange things around PoleControl.”

  “Like…?”

  “Like there was one time, I passed by my dad’s office and I heard him talking to someone,” Ken says. “There was even the shadow of someone in the doorway, but when I knocked on the door and went inside, no one was in there but him holding some golden orb thingy. But Jun I fucking kid you not, I felt like I was being watched. Even sometimes when he’s not in there.”

  “What did the person sound like?” I ask.

  Ken rubs his chin, eyes thinning. “A woman. I think he calls her Rei Ko Rokujo. I’ve asked the Silent Seven about her, and nobody knows who that is. I’ve even looked in the locators. There’s nobody with that name alive.”

  “Maybe you’ve got it wrong or something? Reiko is a name too.”

  “Tried that, Jun. Still nothing.”

  “Well…” I try to think of another suggestion, but nothing comes out. I’m not really one to talk about not believing in ghosts, especially not after one wrecked my car. “Hell, I don’t know. Stay away? I wouldn’t go tempting fate.”

  Ken chuckles. Though, it’s a stiffer chuckle than usual. “You think there’s really a ghost in Showguns?”

  “I grew up in a superstitious house. Even if I don’t agree with everything, I’m not pushing my luck. You never know, Ken.”

  “Ha. I’ll find out soon. I think.”

  “Soon?”

  “My dad said he’s taking me somewhere special. Top secret Showguns stuff apparently. Let’s hope I don’t have to sell my soul or anything.”

  “Oh come on. Now that sounds bogus.”

  Ken rubs the back of neck. “Yeah, you’re probably, right.” But as he says those words, his smile shrinks.

  And keeps shrinking until it can’t shrink anymore.

  3-4 'Ah'

  “What?” I lower the volume on my jazz playlist, then press the speaker button on my phone. “Why not?”

  “I think you’re being way too hasty about this, Jun,” Regi says. “The last thing I want you to do is jump into something you might regret.”

  “Regi, what am I going to regret? It pays more. I can get a ride from a friend instead of taking the train.” I bring my mouse back on the Lords of Earth launcher and click on the next monster camp. “And I’ll be doing something I actually like.” And I don’t have a choice.

  In game, Thunder God laughs and navigates the forest on his own by following my mouse’s trail. I can see the entire enemy team on my mini map in the bottom right corner. The enemy jungler is sitting in a torched bush, looking for a kill on my bottom lane. But he’s not gonna get it. The support and our damage carry are playing passive now. Nothing needs my attention right now.

  “Babe, I can take you to work, if you really need it,” Regi says. “Or why not just take the subway like most people? It’s way cheaper.”

  “Because people are even more nit-picky about Pua Moana on the subway,” I say. “And besides, there are a lot more perverts on the subway and I don’t feel like fighting sleaze balls who want to cop a feel.”

  “Which brings me back to the first thing I said, you don’t need that job.”

  “What do you mean don’t need?” I click on the craggy-skinned frog sitting idly in its forest lair. Thunder God and his boar lunge forward and start bashing away. “Did you forget I’m out of a car right now? Thanks-A-Latte by itself isn’t going to pay for a new one. And Tammy isn’t going to have me tying up hers.”

  There’s a sigh on the other line. “I know that. I’m just saying that I’m working too here. We’ll work something out.”

  Heat coiling in my veins like a tightened spring. I prop my chin up on my hand and exhale, fingers spamming the “Q” key to level the frog’s HP down faster. “Work something out, huh?”

  “What’s with you?”

  The sudden edge in Regi’s tone make me mash the “R” key harder than I mean to. Thunder God slams his hammer down on the frog, killing it. “Excuse me?”

  “You’ve been acting weird ever since last Thursday.”

  My clicking hand freezes. Last Thursday? Prickles slide up the back of my neck. The day my gun got tagged. “Weird like what?”

  “Weird like snappy. I feel like I’m always stepping on land mines these days.”

  I don’t answer right away and click quietly to guide Thunder God to the next camp. “Baby, I’m just under a lot of stress right now. Don’t forget I lost my job.”

  “Wait a minute…Lost what job?” Regi asks. “Thanks-A-Latte?”

  “No. The other one.”

  “But I thought you said you quit that one.”

  “I did quit. I just…” I rub my forehead. “I’m misspeaking because I’m playing Lords of Earth. Sorry.”

  “Well, if it’s that big of a problem and you can’t wait then why not just go back to…you-know-where and stay until you can pay for a new one?”


  “Regi, I can’t just run in and out whenever I feel like it. PoleControl isn’t like that. I’d have to appeal, get checked out by different doctors. And a whole bunch of other stuff that has to get processed. That could take up to a year.”

  “Why the hell do they make you do all that?” Regi asks.

  “Because people usually retire from bad health, old age, or they want to have kids. Unless you’re working at a desk, you have to be checked to make sure that you can still do your old job.”

  “Fair enough. But still, I don’t think you should be rushing to make major decisions right now. You just had a car accident and your car—”

  I frown and click on the next camp. “Heaven’s not going to sit around forever, Regi. That position needs to be filled like this week. I’ve got two days to think about it.”

  “Well ask her for more,” Regi says. “Jun, you barely know her and the job. Ask a lot of questions too.”

  “Regi, the Tokaido Research Institute is a reputable place and position is legitimate,” I say.

  “I still think this sounds a little sketchy,” Regi mutters. “You’re getting into some experimental do-hicky. For all you know it might not be safe.”

  Heat seeps in my veins. And Showguns was? I mis-click. Thunder God’s attack animation resets. I roll my eyes. “I already told you. I’d be on the Beta team. They’ve tested it already.”

  “But still—”

  “But what?”

  “See? There you go again! Snapping at me for giving my opinion!”

  “Because I don’t get why you’re so against this job, Regi.”

  “Because this sounds like one of those get-rich-quick schemes,” Regi retorts. “And I don’t want you getting caught up in something stupid.”

  “Well it's not stupid. I’m taking the job, Regi,” I say. “It’s a nine-to-five like any normal job. And it looks a lot nicer on my resume than coffee barista.”

  “You know what? Go ahead and do it then. Your life, your choices.”