CRASH. Tenjiro’s body slammed into a modest tower of decorative sake barrels as he took the turn coming out of the narrow alleyway too tightly, the ramen shop proprietor hot on his heels. “Stop! Thief!” The noodle master shouted after Tenjiro, or ‘Ten’ as his acquaintances knew him. 

This predicament came about after a lengthy meal of shoyu ramen and several bottles of house soju. Ten was ravenous, but also penniless. He figured he would talk his way out of paying for the meal by posing as a visiting aristocrat and promising to tell his rich friends about the magnificent food he enjoyed at the fine ramen establishment, but he had drank one too many bottles of soju and his normally eloquent aristocratic mannerisms and polish came across as more of a semi-slurred monologue about his import, which this noodle shop owner was not having. “Yes, I’ve seen many of the, um, finest, most modest, esteemed families in all of Hilumia,” he said. “I’m a major deal in some minor ways, ipso facto and vis-a-vis my lineage and decolletage as you can see my dear chef.” Sensing he was caught, Ten had excused himself to the washroom, where he had climbed out of the high window and fell into a stack of flour sacks, dusted himself off then sprinted down the alley to where we find him now.

“I’ll be back in a minute Mr., uh, Noodle Man. Just off to see my rich friends and tell them about the fine time I’m having,” Ten shouted behind him as he scrambled to his feet and continued his escape at top speed. He was not in the best shape of his life and the noodles and soju were sitting heavy in his stomach at this point. Why was he always getting himself into this position? He was already dodging his loan shark and didn’t want to draw extra attention to himself - especially when that attention was from nonpayment of his debts.

As Ten ran, he could feel his talisman hat shift subtly on his head. He never went anywhere without it since the day he got it, the last day he ever saw his parents. It had almost become part of him; it was so familiar, the tight basket weave was worn just right where it rested on him. The talismans hanging from its brim danced as his sandals slapped the street with each stride. 

He took another tight corner. He felt his body pulled abruptly sideways, the firm but careful grip of a well-trained body, as he folded on top of himself on a dirty sack of potatoes. He was breathing hard as he looked around frantically, his eyes eventually focusing on a strange face, the man’s finger held up to his lips indicating he should be quiet. Ten was silent. The noodle chef ran past. Ten awkwardly pushed himself up to sit and braced to stand. “Wait,” the stranger said quietly. Two of the king’s guard soldiers marched by, following the chef, not noticing the crouching noodle thief and strange man behind the closed food cart. 

“Thanks, guy. Do I know you from somewhere? You don’t look like you’re from around here,” Ten said to the stranger.

“I’m new here,” the stranger said. He stood stoically, eyes unmoving, softly focused on Tenjiro before him. As Ten’s breathing and heartbeat resumed their normal rhythms he could properly take in his accomplice. The stranger had on a black and white hoodie that he wore over his disheveled indigo hair, the same colour as Amani’s. He had a red fang tattooed on his cheek, a telltale sign that he was a gate traveller. His neutral expression changed to a slight smile as he stared at Ten.

Ten had a great poker face and always seemed cool under pressure. His heart was pounding. “I don’t see people who have actually taken the red bean very often. I always remember the stories from my grandma talking about the people who travelled between The Garden and The Alley just by eating those special beans. Do you actually know the future like she said?” Ten faltered on his last question and he immediately regretted showing weakness in front of this man - none of that inner dialogue registering on his face though, or at least Ten hoped it hadn’t.

“No, no. We don’t know the future,” the stranger laughed, “But we are well-informed on what happens on both sides of the gates.”

“Alright well hey, thanks for the help, I’ll see ya later” Ten walked away quickly. While he was intrigued by this strange Alley-dweller who saved him for some unknown reason, he didn’t want to stick around to find out why he had taken the time to help him. He glanced back for one last look at his accomplice before disappearing around the corner. The stranger was standing and adjusting his hoodie, wiping his sleeves (presumably addressing the recently airborne potato sack dirt particles). His eyes met Ten’s for an instant and Ten perceived a slight smirk. Then he was out of sight.

++++++++++++++

Ten scanned the street behind him quickly. He had been turning corners, hopping fences, doubling back and hiding in the shadows the whole way - moving in stealth was second nature. He nimbly eased past a stall selling peaches and apricots, his favourite. Ten cleared his throat loudly drawing the attention of the shopkeeper, who had been busy sorting quality fruit from bad. He flashed a smile and winked. She blushed in response and didn’t see his sleight of hand pulling an apricot from the top of the fruit stack, holding her gaze in the charming twinkle of his eyes. 

As he haphazardly bit into the apricot’s juicy flesh his thoughts wandered. He asked himself why he did things like unnecessary pilfering of a yellow fruit. It didn’t matter in the scheme of things, the shopkeeper would probably never notice a single missing apricot - fruit stall tenders were never that careful with inventory, she probably would have just given this to me if I asked nicely or stopped to chat for a minute, he thought. But then, there was no fun in that. Still, maybe he needed to reign in his compulsion to minor crimes and gambling. After all, it was this same proclivity to easy gains that led him to bet all that coin on a beanz race. The odds seemed too good to be true, and only the least reputable beanz subjected themselves to betting races - always the ones, like himself, with loose morals - the most likely of their kind to fix the events. There was nothing like a close bean race with overleveraged coin on the line to get your heart racing though, at least that’s what Ten told himself in a feeble attempt at comforting himself. Those loan sharks were ruthless, and were bound to catch up with him soon.

Then there was Amani. He had known her as long as he could remember. The last time he saw her, she was staring at him from the porch of her family’s farm, a sad pitying look on her face as she watched him run down the road to town. Why had he taken that most rarest of teas from her plantation? He might have even loved her, but yet treated her no better than the shopkeeper and noodle chef - an easy mark. She wasn’t even angry when she watched him hurry away, just carried that deeply disappointed look like a monk who you cursed in front of. 

By the time he returned to the courtyard of his tired home, he smiled smugly to himself, unsure if even he would be able to recreate the detour he concocted to lose his tai. He never trusted people who hung out in The Alley and appeared conveniently in The Garden. The bustling streets of Hilumia were full of rumours, the humans of all of the four domains had loose lips, at least that was Ten’s experience - he often made his living helping retrieve and spread information for those with questionable motives - he was sure he would be among the first to know if there were new humans world traveling to his home.

Ten stepped inside his modest tatami room. He proceeded to make a fire in the stove and set a kettle to boil. Spinning around, Ten sensed he was not alone and his eyes focused intensely on the man from the food cart, standing there smiling. 

“I guess perhaps our meeting wasn’t by chance?” Ten said, while stealthily reaching into his pocket for a knife.

“I would advise against that kind of foolish behaviour,” the man replied calmly. “I’ve been looking for you with an offer I think you’ll find very interesting.” The man stood there unmoving. Ten considered the situation and figured he would probably be dead already if that’s what this stranger wanted - he clearly already knew where he lived or was highly trained to have followed him home; either way it seemed he could have brought Ten’s life to its swift end rather than entertain a conversation in his living room. He released his grip of the knife handle letting it fall back to the bottom of his pocket. There was a beat. “Have you ever been to a monastery of the lightning monks?” the man asked. “I’m Hiroki, by the way.”

The mood lightened as Ten and his new accomplice discussed the nature of his mission. “I’ve heard your skills as a thief from more than one of my acquaintances in The Alley - a select few people who don’t speak highly of many,” Hiroki said.

“They’re not mistaken,” Ten replied. He couldn’t believe there were people in The Alley who knew him by reputation. “Did they mention what it was they admired about me?”

Hiroki smiled. Ten thought he saw a flash of something sinister, then thought it might have just been the cloud passing overhead darkening the room. “I heard you there was nothing you couldn’t remove from a person without them noticing, at least at first,” Hiroki said.

“My skills are well-practiced to be sure, but there's plenty of conmen in The Garden, so why me?” Ten asked.

Hiroki stared at Ten during a slightly uncomfortable pause. “There is one thing you have, that others in your, um, vocation, don’t have,” Hiroki said. He pointed at Ten’s talisman hat.

Ten looked puzzled. “My hat?” Ten asked. “What does my hat have to do with anything?”

“Talisman hats like yours are particularly difficult to come by. They grant access to a few parts of The Garden that are otherwise off limits to most,” Hiroki replied. “I’d like to offer you a deal, in fact. I’ll clear your debts, in exchange for you getting me into the monastery on top of Twin Tiger Peaks. Oh, and helping me retrieve a rare katana the monks there have in their possession. Maybe I’ll even throw you a little extra coin if we can get this sorted out quickly.”

Ten thought about the offer. He didn’t really have a choice but to take the man up on it. The last time he was late paying back the loan sharks they beat him up - he was so bruised he couldn’t sit for three days without coughing. This time he suspected a second offense might include the loss of a finger or two. He didn’t want to find out, and this trip out of town would serve the additional purpose of getting him out of harm’s reach. “Ok, let’s do it. You can crash here tonight if you need to. It’s not much, but the tatami is quite comfortable. We’ll set off for Twin Tiger Peaks first thing in the morning. 

++++++++++++++

Hiroki blinked open his eyes, adjusting to the low light of the small room. He smelled a faint, grassy smell of fresh matcha. Looking around it appeared he was alone. Ten was no longer sleeping on the other side of the room, his sheets discarded haphazardly in a pile. Hiroki stood to inspect the tea bowl, it was empty and cold, signs that some time had passed since it was drunk from. A piece of paper with messy writing sat next to it. It read:

Hey Hiroki there’s a little food left in the cellar, take what you like. I’m really more of a lone wolf so I’m heading out early. See you at the monastery.

• Ten

Hiroki threw on his hoodie and rushed out the door. He needed to catch up with Ten. There was no way his plan would work without him. And, Ten had no idea of the dangers awaiting him in the Lighting Domain with that hat.

TO BE CONTINUED