Great Sage Above Brockton [Worm/Chinese Myth] Sakadagami 2.14

Hello dear readers!

A little warning before you begin: this chapter is...somewhat different from the rest in terms of style. I decided to write this one in a manner similar to Rudyard Kipling's Just So Stories, a collection fables describing how things are Just So, like camels and their humps or whales and their throats. It's a bit experimental, so this might read strangely, but I do hope you enjoy it and leave me some feedback. Have fun!

-x-

As they were making all that clamor, the Immortal Master arrived and asked, “Brothers, where did you lose him in the chase?” “We just had him boxed in here,” said the gods, “but he simply vanished.” Scanning the place with his phoenix eye wide open, Erlang at once discovered that the Great Sage had changed into a small sparrow perched on a tree. He changed out of his magic form and took off his pellet bow. With a shake of his body, he changed into a sparrow hawk with outstretched wings, ready to attack its prey. When the Great Sage saw this, he darted up with a flutter of his wings; changing himself into a cormorant, he headed straight for the open sky. When Erlang saw this, he quickly shook his feathers and changed into a huge ocean crane, which could penetrate the clouds to strike with its bill. The Great Sage therefore lowered his direction, changed into a small fish, and dove into a stream with a splash. Erlang rushed to the edge of the water but could see no trace of him. He thought to himself, “This simian must have gone into the water and changed himself into a fish, a shrimp, or the like. I’ll change again to catch him.” He duly changed into a fish hawk and skimmed downstream over the waves. 

-Journey to the West, chapter 6

-x-

Hear and attend and listen to this tale, O dear and near; for this happened, as you remember, when the Monkey, Sun Wukong, as he was named, ventured deep into the dark forest beyond the city of Brockton Bay, housing trees of leaves of verdant green-needle and dead red-palm. Full of rascality and acumen, he promenaded and watched those leaves and the birds and squirrels resting among them until he found a nice, clear spot upon which he could meditate and instruct. But from between the dark and dismal fingers of bark, a Raccoon came a-boundin’, bearing a tail of stripes and a mask that hid many secrets. He scuffled with Monkey and bared his fangs, unsure what to make of the intruder. His scent was strange, foreign yet familiar, unlike any man or beast. 

Monkey, who was a curious one, as all monkeys are, put aside his shape-changing staff and bowed as was proper. He saw the creature’s eyes shone with intelligence and knowing, far beyond the ken of beasts. He greeted the Raccoon and asked for his name, even as he knew not what beast he was.

“I am Azeban, for that is the name I was given by the Mortals who walked this land so long ago. Why have you come here, o hairy-dweller-in-sky-and-earth?”

“I have come to seek a place of quiet and solitude,” said Monkey, his smile amiable and courteous. “I dwell in the city on the coast nearby. It is full of wonder, excitement and delight, but I have learned it is not an ideal place to hone one’s body and contemplate matters of the mind. I have searched all that is Near to no avail, but then I decided to begin my search Far. I came upon this clearing, caged by trees of verdant green-needle and dead red-palm, and I quite like it. It is peaceful and quiet, with plenty of room to practice and meditate. I was not aware of another spirit dwelling here, for I have glimpsed none during my stay.”

Azeban snorted with a bitter frown. “You have glimpsed none because there are none, o hairy one. Once, my kin were many, frolicking and living amongst the denizens of the earth, swimming in the wild rivers, and soaring in the azure skies. The trees were our watchers and we their protectors, for they are children of the earth. We watched the mortals living below, playing with them as we wished. Some days we guided them in the ways of life, other days we afflicted them with the pains of life.” He sighed and pawed the branch, bereft of any leaves. “But now there are none. All gone, above or below. I have searched as well, but I have only seen my face reflected upon the waters.”

“Why have they left and whence did they go?” asked Monkey.

The Raccoon sniffed and gestured to the east, where the far-and-expanding sea lay. “Men came from the east, on great canoes with masts as tall as these here trees. My mortals were bathed in the earth and clad in leaves and fur; the new ones bathed in the sun and garbed with metal and cloth. Unusual they were, speaking of strange lands and of a stranger spirit. Formless and present everywhere—a Niwaskowôgan, much like my Father, who dreamed of every creature and spirit in the world. They came in peace at first, desiring to flee from a far-off land across the great waters. The Alnôbak - for that was the name my people had chosen - greeted them with caution and respect. But as the seasons came and went, Alnôbak became scarcer. Plague and war, both from these awanochak, culled their numbers, and those who remained fled to the west.” 

A sigh filled with weariness left his snout, and he slumped upon the branch, bare of green and red leaves. “My kin followed them, to guide and preserve as they had for seasons ere. Those who cared not for their plights returned to the earth, dreaming in Father’s embrace. Kassigadenowaiwi, I have dwelt here with the birds and the squirrels and the crawlers alone. Only I remain, for this is my home, and mortals or not, I am Azeban, and Azeban dwells wherever he so pleases.”

Monkey’s stone heart was overcome with pity for this strange spirit, and he bowed again in respect, as was proper. “This Old Sun’s sorrow for your plight, honored Azeban, is measured by the reach of the heavens and the depths of the seas. Mortals are a cruel lot, and ‘twas quite rude and improper of them to banish your kin so many years ago. Yet even in my home, among the mountains and trees beyond the eastern sea, I have witnessed the reach of both their cruelty and compassion. Let your ire not be directed toward the ones in the city on the coast, for they know not of their ancestors’ crimes, as happened long ago.”

“Bah! Save your worries, hairy one, for I have little ire left,” said the Raccoon. “My mortals were as all mortals are: driven by passions and reasons alike. They allied with the Awanochak on many occasions and fought their neighbors to the west and north, all in an effort to further their own goals. I hold no ire for them, for greed and desire are the holes Father gave mortals. That is the way of things, and shall always be.”

“An unfortunate truth, yet truth can change with time,” replied Monkey. “Have you ventured into the city yourself?”

“Many times over the seasons, but now I cannot bear to gaze upon it. The air reeks with filth and Siguan no longer brings his lover to herald the spring. And these new mortals, flush with tainted power, are an affront to my nose.”

“You see them too? Above the mortal sorcerers’ heads?” asked Monkey, who was a curious one.

“I see nothing but arrogance and desperation, and I have keen eyes behind this mask. My nose can sniff out the smallest worm from a bed of rich earth, and these powers they flaunt are filled with wrongness. I taught Medawlinnoak, healers and sorcerers, to infuse themselves with strength, to see through the eyes of the forest, and to watch the stars and seasons. But these new sorcerers are abhorrent; whatever spirits they contract do not come from Father’s dream-thoughts.”

“But how are you to know what a spirit from across the vast seas smells like, if you have not seen their like before?”

“All spirits bear the scent of both earth and sky, such as yourself. I cannot see these new spirits, for my eyes have grown old and dusty, but their nebulous odor reeks of neither.”

Monkey was impressed by Raccoon’s insight, even if he could not see what he saw. “I am quite aware of these troubles, and am investigating them with utmost scrutiny. Have no fear, for my eyes are sharp and my feet are nimble.”

“Do as you wish in that regard; I hold no care for such matters save for the sanctity of my nose. But we have strayed from our path. You wish to use this glade, ringed by trees of green-needle and red-palm, as a place to practice and meditate, yes?”

“Indeed, o masked one. The forest sings dulcet tunes and the ground is pleasing to my feet. My disciple, who is young and eager, shall also benefit from these.”

“A disciple? Among the mortals? In this day and age? I am not so sure. Through my will, mortals have left these woods well enough alone. I do not feel comfortable with allowing one inside now, even if she is young and eager as you claim.”

But Monkey was determined and pleaded before the old Raccoon. “She is curious and eager, determined to do good! I teach her to care for spirits and listen to the ways of the earth, and she shan’t trouble you. If you desire a price, name it, and I shall endeavor to grant it, for Old Sun’s word is his bond.”

“Gold is polished earth and favor is dancing wind. I have no need for either.” Azeban scoffed. But his mask hid many secrets, and he was curious, as all Raccoons were, some say even more curious than Monkeys, but do not say so to any of them, o dear and near. 

“But you are strange and new, o hairy-dweller-in-sky-and-earth. For that alone, I shall consider your request. So I have a proposal for you, if you are so inclined to consider: a game.”

Excitement overcame Monkey, full of sagacity and acumen, and he clapped his hands, as was proper. “What sort of game?”

“Do you possess the power of changing your form, as all spirits do?”

“Why, of course!” Monkey puffed his chest and smacked it with his fist. “I have mastered the 72 Earthly Transformations, so that I may change into all manner of forms in heaven and on earth! No one alive is better than I!”

Azeban, whose mask hid many secrets, bared his teeth. “We shall put those words to the test then?” He rose from the tree branch, bereft of leaves of green and red, and stared into Monkey’s red eyes. “The game is simple. We transform into beasts, flying, walking, prowling, or crawling, and hunt each other in these woods, of which we may not leave. No other magics and evocations will be allowed, and we must refrain from using our original forms.” He scampered up to a branch and blew on a stray red leaf hanging by its lonesome. Awash with gold, the leaf began to dance in the air. “If you force me to surrender by the time this leaf touches the ground, you win. If so, you and your disciple, who is young and eager as you so claim, may use this place to practice and meditate. Else, you shall leave me to my business and never bother me again. What say you?”

Planting his size-changing staff into the ground, Monkey rubbed his hands. “I accept your rules and challenge, O Azeban of the Forest! May our game be enjoyable and exhilarating in equal measure!”

With those words, the game was on.

Leaping down, Azeban became a copperhead, slithering and poison-fanged. Monkey turned into a hawk, winged and razor-taloned, and lashed at the brown serpent. But Azeban slithered left and right, zig and zag away from the talons. He bared his fangs to bite the hawk, but then the hawk became a macaque, who grabbed the snake by the tail and swung him round and round.

“You cheat and swindler! I said we do not use our original forms!”

“But this is not my true form, o spirit! I wear no robe and hold no staff, and I am much smaller, as all monkeys are!”

The snake hissed and turned into a wolverine, sharp-clawed and of furious temperament. Monkey marveled at this creature: he had never seen its like before in the far-off lands to the east! But he dodged and ran from the wolverine, sharp-claws slicing through grass and dirt. Monkey scaled a tree and swung between branches, and laughed at Azeban with a voice full of rascality and acumen, even as he also climbed.

“Too slow! Too slow!” he taunted. “Monkeys are the greatest climbers and swingers! Your sharp-claws cannot help you!”

But Azeban, whose mask hid many secrets, grinned and leapt from a branch, transforming into a mighty bald eagle, greatest of prey birds in these woods north and south. Mighty wingbeats carried him, hooked beak at the ready, and Monkey was startled again, o dear and near, for he had never seen a bird of prey so striking! He swung from branch to branch, but the eagle kept chasing, twisting in the air and snapping its razor-talons and hooked beak. Following them, as you will recall, was the golden leaf, dancing in the wind and slowly descending toward the ground, two monkeys’ height away.

Monkey reached a great tree, with branches like trunks all by themselves, but they were too high, and the eagle was closing in. 

Up yonder, he saw a tiny hole in the trunk - hope! He turned into a cicada and flew into the hole, laughing to himself as talons scratched uselessly against ancient bark. He flew upwards and onwards, through moss-covered pathways and channels shaped by centuries. A beam of sunlight streamed from a hole above him, and he flew toward it, intending to perch until the time was up. Yet he no longer heard the razor-talons on bark, nor the honks of the hooked-beak. Intuition ringing, Monkey stayed his course, but then, a giant wasp flew in the hole, harpoon-stinger at the ready, and glared with honeycombed eyes at the cicada.

“You are a curious bug, but wasps eat bugs like you!”

Deep within the ancient tree, the chase continued, mandibles snapping and tiny wings thrumming. To and fro they flew, Monkey dodging the jaws of death. Yet it was not fear that drove Monkey, o dear and near, but excitement! He had not felt such a thrill since his arrival in the city of the coast, where paltry swats disguised as punches deigned to rein him in! But the sagacious and resourceful Monkey had more than one trick tucked in his tail, and he intended to use them to the fullest!

Out of the roots he flew and into the sunlight, where the wasp continued to give chase. Taking to the skies, he turned into a swallow and dove downward, beak wide open for his meal. Alas, Raccoon’s mask hid sharp eyes along with many secrets, and flew straight from the snapping beak and deep into the forest. Over leaves and under branches they flew, past nests and burrows, sending the forest folk scurrying away. Monkey flapped and twirled in the air, but to his shame, he had lost his quarry! 

“Where are you, o spirit of the forest?” he sang. “Show yourself so our hunt may continue!”

Only the sounds of the forest replied to Monkey, and he grew suspicious. Not far, he saw the golden leaf slowly approaching the ground. Time was not on his side, and he would need all of his sagacity and acumen to help him now.

Activating his Golden Eyes, which discerned truth from lies and illusion from reality, Monkey flew ‘round the forest, seeking his quarry, until he spotted a butterfly perched on a nearby log, enshrouded in a golden halo in the shape of Raccoon.

“Hah! Run as you will, but this Old Sun’s eyes see all!” He flew to the butterfly, legs ready to snatch and hold, yet in his eagerness, he blotted out everything else. The butterfly flitted away right as he touched the log, and a resounding crack filled the air. For this was no mere fallen shrubbery; this log was old and worn down from time and rain, and Monkey’s touch caused it to collapse. He squawked as wood rained down on him, flapping his wings to no avail.

Raccoon flew around and landed on the ground. A once mighty log, draped in a cloak of moss, was now nothing more than a pile of splinters. He puffed up his chest - which was impressive for a butterfly - and smugness filled him. “It is my turn to laugh, o hairy one! My mask holds many secrets, and this is by far my most treasured. The forest is like the palm of my paw: every crevice, nook, and cranny is within my reach. I know every burrow in the earth, every nest in the trees, and every den in the trees. I mourn every dying leaf and praise every sprouting sapling. Accepting a challenge here was a fool’s choice! May the flavor of birch and bark sour the taste of defeat!”

He finished his boast and glanced at the leaf. Soon, it would fall and he would be crowned victor. It was a shame for another spirit to leave, but he did not wish to sully his peace with the presence of a mortal. 

Right as his tiny body began to relax, however, his ears twitched. Transformed as he was, he could hear just as well as any Raccoon could, which was very well indeed, o dear and near. No birdsong or cry of surrender came within the pile, and his suspicion grew. Had the hairy one escaped already?

He flew to the pile and peeked between the cracks, but darkness greeted him, and nothing more. “Hello? Come out, come out, o hairy one! There is no shame in defeat, as predestined as it was! Show yourself and I shall grant you a worthy send-off!”

Alas, he was met with no reply. The leaf was just mere moments away from kissing the earth, and Azeban, whose mask held many secrets, grew most puzzled indeed. For it is in battle and contest that one’s true nature is glimpsed, and he had glimpsed much from Monkey, who was unlikely to accept defeat with ease or grace. 

Suddenly, a rustling came from behind him. He turned around, ready to transform, but he saw nothing. Yet his senses were keen, and he knew that something was amiss. With a cautious gait, he turned into a praying mantis, blending right into the grass below. He skittered along the ground, his forelimbs poised to strike, but he saw nothing. Then, another rustle came from within the grass. Raccoon crept between the dry blades, whose green shade had diminished from winter, and his hackles - though you could not see them as a praying mantis - rose. Near the pile of shattered wood and past blades of grass was a small lump of earth, which Raccoon knew wasn’t there before. 

“Hah! Thought you could trick Azeban, could you? Every nook and cranny of this forest is the palm of my paw!” 

He crouched, reared back, and jumped at the pile, bringing his blades down. But to his dismay, it was indeed naught but a lump of earth! He tapped it thrice, circled around-

-and a spider, unlike any he’d seen before, pounced from a hole in the ground and grabbed him inside! He struggled and kicked, but his foe’s grip was strong and silk bound him. Furious, he stewed as the spider - who was Monkey, if you were confused, o dear and near - turned him around and chittered. He was indeed a large and strange spider, with thick legs and a large bottom resembling a bowl.

Azeban’s fury rose as he kicked within his cocoon, but the silk held strong and could hold mortals as well as insects.

“This Old Sun applauds your efforts, o Azeban of the Forest! Against any other spirit, you would surely be the victor, but I have faced tricksters and conjurers who could pull the stars from the sky and drain the oceans dry!”

“Do not be absurd! The fight has not left these old bones!”

“Maybe so, but your time has.” 

Monkey dragged Raccoon past the trapdoor and into the open air, and sure as the morning sun, the golden leaf had fallen to the ground.

Mandibles opening and heart dropping, Azeban stared stupefied. He could scarcely believe it, yet the truth could not be hidden. He sighed and hung his head. “Very well, I concede. The glade is yours to use as you see fit, o hairy one.”

Whooping with joy, Monkey returned to his true self and danced around. Rolling his eyes at the juvenile display, Azeban snapped through his bindings and returned to a raccoon, donning his mask that hid many secrets. Monkey saw his surly countenance and felt some of his cheer wither. Full rascality and acumen, he discerned what troubled Raccoon. He had not truly meant to disturb the spirit, and he knew that sharing one’s home was not an easy fact to accept.

“Begging your pardon, o watcher of the forest,” he bowed, as was proper. “But I shall neither waste nor sully your gift. The glade will be cared for and tended as though it were Venerable Laozi’s alchemical gardens, filled with the finest plants and herbs. You are welcome to watch and join me and my disciple, who is young and eager, in our practice and meditation any time you wish, and when I next come here, I shall bring offerings of fruit and nachos, as is proper of a guest.”

Azeban brushed his muzzle and eyed Monkey, taken aback by his humility. He then huffed and flicked his striped tail. “At least you know proper manners. Your offer is most kind, though I have grown weary of mortals. I may watch, and perhaps I may not; Azeban will do as he wills. But offerings of food, I will generously accept. Ah, my children would leave baskets of the juiciest nuts and berries, and I would join them in their fishing.”

“Then I shall bring the finest fruits and nuts this land has to offer, and I offer myself as a companion to fish with. It has been years upon years since I last held a rod or threw a spear into the river, and I would find it most enjoyable indeed.”

“Hmph. Perhaps, if luck wills it. Now begone, and leave me to my rest!” Azeban climbed a tree and settled down on a branch, eyes closing and breath light. Unbeknownst to him, the faintest trace of a smile grew on his face. In the dreamtime, surrounded by memories of his kith and kin, he would admit to enjoying himself, for many seasons had passed since he played a true game, and was all the happier for it.

Monkey smiled and dipped his head again to the old spirit. How long has it been since he’d last played the trickster’s game? Far too long, and oh, how he missed it. “A good day to you, Azeban. May your rest be fulfilling and your dreams peaceful.” 

And so he leapt away from the forest, summoning back his staff and heading toward the city. A stray drone, hovering in the air, directed its attention to him, but a twirl of his staff left it a smoldering heap. Reaching his dear host’s shop, he entered with a jaunty step. “Good afternoon, Peizhi-xiansheng! How has your day fared?”

The shopkeeper, who was resting on the counter, raised a hand in greeting. “Oh, hi, Wukong. Um, how was your day?”

“Most fun and productive! I’ve secured Taylor and me a new training ground away from the city, and I’ve enjoyed a most merry game while doing so!”

“Oh…that’s… good to hear…” he said with reluctance, then glanced at his phone. “Did you have anything to do with this?”

Wukong tilted his head and peered at the screen. Grainy footage played before him and he chuckled abashedly. “Ah, that. No, the full credit goes to Taylor, I’m afraid. She was out for a jog and stumbled into a light scuffle, which she promptly dealt with. It was for a noble cause, and I’m sure she didn’t intend it. Her disguise held true, yet considering her powers, it is a moot and unfortunate point.”

Peizhi bit his lip, tapping his finger on the counter. After a few seconds, he sighed and rubbed his forehead. “It’s fine. Honestly, I should’ve expected this. Again, I know I’m asking for the moon, but could you try not to draw too much attention to this place? I don’t know how the situation is going to end up, and I’d rather stay out of the line of fire.”

“As always, I shall endeavor for my best, dear host. To do any less would spit upon the help and blessings you have given us both,” Wukong replied, bowing again. His ears then twitched and he furrowed his brow. “Where is the dear lass, by the way?”

Stiffening, Peizhi turned to him with wide eyes. “I thought she was with you.”

“You meant to say she didn’t return? I sent her back here after she retreated from her kerfuffle.”

“I checked upstairs, it’s empty.” His host’s face tightened with worry. “Are you sure you didn’t-”

Wukong bolted upstairs and checked every room on the floor-alas, no sign of Taylor. Turning ethereal, he jumped through the walls and bounded to where he’d last met her, near that alley. Activating his Golden Eyes, he scanned the dirty back street and sniffed the air. 

‘She was here, no doubt about it.’ He slowly walked out of the alley and looked down the street, mentally retracing her steps. ‘She ran for a while, a brisk pace, not at a full sprint.’

He stopped near a building, a brownstone with shuttered windows. He inhaled and gagged at the odour which invaded his open nostrils. ‘Garbage, decay, sewers…and her. Someone else was here…waiting, and then…’

Two thin, golden trails hovered above him. One was Taylor’s, filled with light and rang with the buzzing of insects, and the other…tainted, but not of pollution or rot like the city. In fact, it was more akin to -

‘Inconceivable.’

His jaw tightened and fists clenched, even as his tail dropped.

It couldn’t be. Yet the evidence was undeniable.

He didn’t believe Azeban lied; his mask hid many secrets, but no outward falsehoods. But to meet two in succession, one friend and one foe…

Karma truly had a black sense of humor.

Two thoughts warred in Wukong’s mind: one was of disbelief and outrage, of filth laying his hands on his precious disciple. The other was solitary and minute, yet one voice rang louder than gongs:

‘Amitabha, not again! Was I not done rescuing folks from those cretins?’