Chapter Text
Pokemon Mystery Dungeon: Warm Embrace
A Pokemon Mystery Dungeon Story
-
Written By:
Shanna (Aka BestgirlDucky)
Aster / KitKat (Aka ModernMasquerade)
Chapter 1:
Upon the Early Days Of Cold Harvest...
~+~
I still remember the day, second by second, when I first laid eyes upon him. Part of me was excited. The idea was exotic, intoxicating, to have not just a friend but one of such uniqueness. I had always known that he had given things up to be what he was. But had I known just how much he'd sacrificed I would have cried and thrown myself at his feet when I met him. I would have filled his bowl until it overflowed with honey and bread until I starved to my ribs just so he didn't need suffer one moment in his life.
I can only wonder if he remembers my name, wherever he may be, and if he could fathom what I understand now.
~+~
< < Female Fire Pig Year of the 6th Rabjung > >
It was getting darker.
The cold, dry air felt oddly still. Neither the barley in the fields nor the few trees by the house rustled at all. The yaks were silent. No voices were carried on the wind, for the children were all long asleep.
Nothing was out here under the darkening sunset. Under the deep purple sky and black clouds.
Nothing. Nobody. Not anymore.
It was so peaceful. A peaceful sendoff. Maybe he couldn't have asked for a better vista from the world. To give him a woven tapestry of colors all to say goodnight.
Goodbye.
He could imagine it was all for himself. To permit himself that bit of selfishness at the least.
Feeling the still air on his face. Feeling the crunch of the grass underfoot.
There used to be a man here. His name was...
Jianguo.
His name was Bāo Jianguo.
The man's heart enjoyed this peace.
He breathed deep of the evening air, took in these final colors.
The fading sky of his home fostered no fear, this place was all he had known.
Feeling the still air on his face. Feeling the hard floor under his feet.
Staring out towards the sunset as it vanished behind the far mountain, through a window he would need to close up soon.
A fire crackled. Some butter tea sat untouched by a still boiling pot.
"I brought you something. You were wanting to learn more how to read, weren't you, Jianguo?" The man's friend spoke beside him, dressed in his simple robes.
It was hard to remember the man's name, which perhaps seemed odd for he had been Jianguo's friend for his entire life. Coming and going from the monastery, crossing paths in the city when Jianguo went with the rest of his family to sell barley to the foreign travelers that passed through.
Jinpa...? That sounded like at least part of his name.
The robed man smiled, lifting up a small collection of thick cards bound between two slabs of wood.
"They're a few mantras I've hand-copied for you." The man, Jinpa, offered warmly.
Jianguo stirred, as if he hadn't remembered his dear friend was there.
But then he smiled. After all, he had invited Jinpa in on this peaceful evening. This was an old friend, one Jianguo had known even before Jinpa's training began as a boy. They enjoyed these calm evenings together on occasion, though their paths had diverged. Recollection twinkled in his eyes as he nodded to Jinpa.
"Ah, yes- yes I was. You are very kind to write these for me," Jianguo said gratefully with a small bow of his head, as he took in the thick cards under the warm light of the low fire. "Though, I feel I would be wrong to let you leave with nothing where you have come with the work of your hand."
"Were it any other circumstance I would accept, but..." Jinpa paused with a sad smile, holding a hand to Jianguo's shoulder. He let the thought trail off, turning his head across the room.
There, at the far end, two beds were next to one another. Upon the simple beddings lie two children, sleeping soundly with gentle, inaudible breaths. Jinpa did well to keep his voice low as to not disturb them.
They were the children of Jianguo's brother. Jianguo knew all their names. The name of every child, brother, sister, wife, parent and grandparent that lived in this house with him.
Jinpa looked back to Jianguo, a hand resting on the stack of mantras.
"The monastery and many of the towns I've been visiting have given me all I need." The man said. "But its your family that needs. I'd heard it's been another bad harvest all over...droughts and nothing but. To see the Tsong Chu so low at this time of year...have you all been holding out fine?"
A sigh escaped Jianguo. Jinpa was right- he often was.
He couldn't deny this was a trying year. The harvest had suffered, and the river had retreated in its banks for some time. It was hard enough to keep the family fed with a season like this, and taxes always crept higher it seemed.
The children slept well in spite of the world's struggles, and a contented expression crossed Jianguo's face before turning back to Jinpa. His family...he was responsible for them and loved every member dearly. It was a humble home, but they were together at least.
"Well... it hasn't been an easy year for anyone," Jianguo nodded in agreement, keeping his voice low. "We have some stores, but not as much as I'd like this time of year. Winter is almost upon us, after all."
"Same as everyone it seems..." Jinpa sighed, looking out the window.
Out towards the field.
Standing outside with the fields of barley, threshing with his brother as adults. As children. Teaching the older of Jianguo's nephews how to thresh.
Sitting out upon the hill overlooking the house with bread in hand. Wasteful, in times where news of famine was widespread. Jianguo could feel his own stomach hurt. Likely he tried to not think about his own skipped meals, for he had watched those children he cared for eat and eat well, as children should.
Seeing that smile on his nephew's face was worth a few skipped meals.
"Seems the only ones not being robbed out on the road these days are men like myself...if only because we've nothing to steal." Jinpa continued, bringing Jianguo back to that cozy little house.
Jianguo's thoughts seemed ready to wander...but, then again, those were happy memories.
It was nighttime.
They both held butter tea in hand. Jinpa took a sip.
"Though it seems more and more of those bandits are fathers themselves. Steal two loaves and give them to a child each." The man continued. "What do you think of that, Jianguo?"
Jianguo took a drink of the butter tea, felt it linger on his lips. His grandmother taught him how to make it.
"I've heard as such. Haven't brought the Yak beyond eyesight of home lately, I wouldn't know what to do if they were taken." Jianguo said solemnly, but he considered the question as well. His friend liked to pose thoughts like this, after all.
After a moment he gave his answer:
"It is wrong to steal, surely, but is it better to let the child who depends on you go hungry?" Hesitation, he continued with a note of sorrow in his voice, "Then - In these days that loaf may well be meant to feed the child of the man who was robbed, the suffering is only forced on another."
"To have is to not have, isn't it? We see it again and again." Jinpa almost laughed. "The world was better in times past, except when it wasn't. For now, it isn't, as it eventually always is."
The sun hovered over the mountain in the early morning.
The wind was warm. Billowing through the stalks of barley. A deafening rustling filled the air such that one would have to talk rather loudly to be heard.
Jinpa leaned upon a fence of tied branches, looking up toward the snow-tipped peak of the mountain and all the clouds that stalled and rolled past it.
"Have you ever pondered the nature of that, Jianguo?" The robed man asked, watching the children as they played far out in the blustery fields beyond the fence. "You are a man that toils out here, yet tomorrow might come hail or flood then drought and strip it away. And all the same comes the tax man, hm?"
Jianguo laughed, always in a fair mood when seeing the children play.
"Would you believe me if I told you I ponder that as little as I can?" He answered, rolling his shoulders with a heavy breath, well aware of the weight they carried. He came to lean on the fence beside his friend, and continued the thought. "We all worry of course, but I cannot control the storms or drought. The best I can manage is to prepare with my toil, and hope that it is enough."
The farmer sighed, at the shadow of the coming tax man in his mind. The family had managed to scrape some together, even if it meant they had to sell a chicken or craft and take an odd job here and there.
He muttered again, "I hope that it is enough."
Jinpa laughed lightly, pulling his robes tight as the strong winds whipped around him, creaking the fence. He did his best to brace against it so it didn't warp or tilt again.
After all, Jianguo's brother knelt on the roof, repairing damage from a hail storm just the night before.
Jianguo could smell the rain in the air.
It was a downpour.
Jinpa had made it to his home just in time. Jianguo's nose tickled at the welcome smell of rain, happy to see that the patches had kept most of the damp out. But the rain would be too little too late.
And as the both of them stared out, watching the puddles turn to rivulets rushing across the fields the robed man turned to Jianguo once more.
"I think, in the end, it will be enough. When you've done all you can then it is enough, even if things cannot improve until the next cycle." Jinpa said, looking back out to the silvery blanket of wind and rain. "Some men toil for their family. Some men in the army kill for their family. I haven't thought much of these things, but I must wonder after you, Jianguo. Were harm to come to those you love, do you think yourself a man of revenge?"
Jianguo looked out to the wind-strewn rain with his friend as they spoke, listening close...but being slow to answer. But answer he finally did:
"That I don't know, Jinpa." Jianguo said honestly, hands working at each other, "I know that I couldn't be a soldier, in my heart. I am not an angry man."
A moment of silence was only broken by the falling rain.
"But your question is different than that - Grief does powerful things, and can drive men mad. I consider myself lucky to have not known such harm, and I hope that should the day come I may temper it, before I would lose myself."
Jinpa nodded solemnly, listening to Jianguos' answer.
The ground was dry tonight.
The mountain could not be seen at all in the solid black darkness that overtook the land.
The Moon could not be seen - A New Moon.
"I believe in you to do so, Jianguo. A man that harms for others still does harm. If it must be done, so be it perhaps, but he who does that harm must still face the reality of what it is he has done, whatever the reason may be."
Jinpa gingerly held a piece of red cloth with text written upon it - a teaching from Buddha. He held it out for his friend to take. A parting gift. Jianguo could barely see the man's face in the faint glow of the distant light.
Jianguo took the offered cloth with reverence. This night was dark with the new moon offering so little light, but that only left the warm light of home all the more appealing. A prayer flag, red as for the fire pig year. It depicted the thousand-armed Chenrezig, a prayer of the bodhisattva who reached out with a thousand arms to aid the suffering multitudes.
"I must be off to the city, Jianguo." Jinpa said. Jianguo could hardly even see the man's mouth move in the black night that surrounded them both. "But before I go, please, tell me...were it you to sit where the mongols do now, what kind of world would you create?"
The question roused Jianguo from taking in the prayers...prayers his friend had taught him to read.
Jianguo thought a moment...then thought some more. Yet the more he thought the more he came to the same conclusion:
"That isn't my station, but were it my choice? I would hope to see a world where the mandate of heaven is maintained, with virtue shown to even the least of the land. Where no family would be forced to choose who must eat."
Jianguo shook his head...and embraced Jinpa.
The man returned the hug, light but sincere, before backing away towards the void of night.
"Travel safely, my friend." Jianguo said to him, watching him go.
Jinpa smiled, pulling his robes tight as he stood in the grass, just beyond the light of the dimming fire. His body seemed as though it were melding with the darkness and his billowing robes were becoming one with the wind.
[FINAL CHECK]
The man looked as though he wanted to say something more. Perhaps ask another question or give some more parting words.
[STABILIZED]
But at the sound of the children calling for Jianguo from the house Jinpa simply gave another smile and could only say...
[DEPLOYMENT READY]
"No, my friend...I should be saying that to you." Jinpa spoke. "Please...travel safely."
[DEPLOY FINAL]
Jinpa turned, his footsteps lightly crunching on the grass as he vanished into the dark.
As did the stars.
The fire.
The house.
All of it bled into the dark of night.
But the wind remained. The wind was blowing. Cold and fierce. Whipping against Jianguo's face, threatening to pull him away into the void.
Jianguo puzzled at the strange words that droned in his ear, at his friend's odd statement. He didn't know what was happening.
The children called for him, he had to go to them-
The stars, the fire, his home, everything faded into nothing but darkness and wind.
His youngest, she was scared of the dark-
Yet he felt as though he could not move at all. As though he were a statue against the gale.
The wind was cold against him, it's all that he could hear.
'They need me-
I can't move...'
The wind picked up. More and more...
The wind blew at his front. Then his side. From behind.
Under him. Over him.
No...he no longer stood.
In horror he realized he was falling. Falling without end. His eyes saw brief flashes. Little specks flying by his vision as he tumbled in pitch black darkness.
But there was something else. A massive ball of fire that circled around him. Hazy and blurred, he didn't see it at first...but the haze over his eyes faded. His tumble through the air stalled for one...
...brief...
...moment...
...and what he saw...
...how could one even describe it...?
What was this?
What could this be?
Just as soon as he had seen it the red moon VANISHED in a sudden rush of dark trees. Branches and twigs snapped and roared in protest! Wood SCREAMED and cracked until he SLAMMED into the forest floor, an explosion of leaves and debris and dirt cascading up into the air.
He tumbled, limbs stiff and rigid. He felt no pain and could not even move his eyes of his own volition as he came to rest on his back, staring up at the gaping hole in the forest canopy where even now nettles and branches were fluttering down after him onto the forest floor. He could see an ocean of stars above mixing with the black of the sky.
The howling stopped. The leaves around Jianguo rippled with energy at his disturbance but soon righted themselves, coming to rest once more.
Dust swirled around where he impacted...
...and he could hear a river nearby.
[ BEGIN ]
His lungs sucked in their first breath.
His limbs spilled out around him, all at once going from fully rigid to like liquid, as though relaxation dropped onto him like a bucket of water.
His chest heaved. The air was crisp.
The forest...was silent.
~+~
Chapter 1 - End