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Following a small commotion among the birds, Kasen came to the edge of her garden one day to find her tiger sprawled across the ground with someone bending over to pat his head. Worse still, that someone was Hinanawi Tenshi. This interloper reacted to Kasen’s approach without missing a beat, standing up straight-backed and imperious with the air of someone who had never in her life lowered herself to pet a cat.
“Ah, there you are!” she said, beaming, as if she’d personally called for Kasen to meet her here.
First things first. “Houso, we’ll discuss this later,” said Kasen to the tiger, who flattened his ears.
“Even savage beasts can’t help but recognize the radiance of a pure celestial!” Tenshi said, ignoring being ignored. “For a filthy animal, this one at least has some dignity. Perhaps I should tame it and become its master!”
“There’s no need to bother yourself," Kasen began, "considering I’ve already done that...”
But now she was being ignored, and Tenshi was much better at that sort of thing. She brushed past Kasen to stride deeper into the senkai, making a whole show of looking around appraisingly as she went. "It's an improvement over the curs I've seen skulking around your home before, at least. But you should be training ceaselessly; I'd better not have caught you slacking off. Why don't you have a spot for meditation out here? There’s a decent flow of energy under that tree, I’m sure you could manage some use of it. And furthermore, those begonias would look better on the left."
Criticizing Kasen's gardening was a bridge too far. "Is there a reason you've decided to grace me with your opinions today?" she interrupted more firmly, no longer tempering her annoyance.
That was clearly a question Tenshi looked forward to answering. Turning back to Kasen, she drew herself up proudly to the fullest of her inconsiderable height, nose in the air, hands on her hips; the late morning sun shone behind her like a halo, or possibly that was the sheer glare of her ego. "You are now speaking to an official emissary of Heaven, one who has condescended in great mercy to provide guidance to just such lost and miserable hermits as yourself! Since you couldn’t know any better, I'll forgive your failure to genuflect."
In the back of Kasen’s mind, she began running risk analysis. It seemed to her there was a real chance of coming to blows, for varying reasons, if she tried to either let Tenshi do whatever she liked or just kick her out – and Tenshi might be content with a fight, actually, but Kasen would prefer to avoid the seismic disruption in her home.
Besides, while she would never take Tenshi’s bragging at face value, she wasn’t entirely uninterested in whatever Heavenly gossip had put her in such a good mood. Contain and distract it was, then.
“How kind of you,” Kasen said. “If you’ll accept tea and snacks as offerings, you can tell me all about it inside.”
“Hm! I suppose I can make do. It’s unseemly for a divine representative to reject the hospitality of meager mortal paupers,” Tenshi said eagerly.
So Kasen did her best to quickly usher Tenshi indoors. She noted Houso making a show of looking attentive as they left. Ultimately, she couldn’t truly blame him; no security system in the world could keep out every pest.
Naturally, Tenshi kept up her little inspection as they entered, eyeing the inside of Kasen’s home as if she hadn’t been there before, and as if it were a fun puzzle created for her to pull apart. She’d never exactly needed an excuse to be critical, but having one now clearly delighted her.
“It’s been too long. Your home is even worse than I remember!” she declared.
“Is that right? I seem to recall someone comparing it to Heaven once.”
“Yes, yes, I'm sure you do the best you can with what you have.”
“Don’t break anything,” Kasen said as she went to get the tea. She didn’t keep anything important anywhere a guest could get at it.
Tenshi didn’t rise to that, but when Kasen returned she was snooping openly, poring over a bookshelf. Looking up, she pointed accusingly at a scroll and said, “There’s a better translation of this.” Nevertheless, she returned to the table.
“Yes, and I can read the original too,” said Kasen. What made these moments such a shame was that Tenshi actually did have some knowledge in there: whatever fraction she’d absorbed, presumably, of the finest education Heaven could offer. It was merely locked behind her personality. Kasen took her own seat. “So, what happened?”
On cue, Tenshi lit right up again. “As I said! I now speak to you as an official emissary!”
“Yes, but what happened? I take it you’re out of exile for eating dumplings.”
“Oh, no, they got over that one ages ago. Last time it was for knocking over some statue that no one even bothered to protect properly. Or was it my commentary on that one guy’s manuscript?”
Once upon a time even Tenshi had managed some semblance of self-consciousness about getting kicked out of Heaven, but clearly she was long past that. Kasen said, “Ah, so that’s how they recognized your talent.”
“It’s about time,” Tenshi said, preening. “But in truth, it may be you should thank yourself too. Feel honored.”
“How’s that?”
“If you must know, the reality is that nobody makes it to Heaven anymore. I doubt there are many mortals on Earth still trying to reach nirvana at all. It’s shameful,” Tenshi said seriously. “But everyone was interested when I told them that Gensouykou still has a few wretched hermits struggling to find enlightenment, ones who will never be worthy as they are now. Thus the celestials were deeply moved and agreed that you need more guidance!”
Kasen processed that quietly for a moment, then sighed. “And you were perfect for the job because you’ve already spent so much time here as punishment.”
“What can I say? Perhaps I too was moved to pity by the plight of you lowly worms!” Tenshi chuckled to herself and enjoyed her tea.
It must have been an elegant solution, from Heaven’s perspective, to the Tenshi Problem. And from Tenshi’s perspective too, really – her joy wouldn’t only be about being ‘forgiven’. As long as being on Earth was framed as a punishment, her pride wouldn’t let her admit she preferred it.
It was just a little unfortunate for the lowly worms.
But, then, as much of a headache as Tenshi could be, Kasen had to admit she fit in pretty well in Gensoukyou. Being a headache was practically a national pastime.
Her thoughts were interrupted before long. “Does that one shinigami still visit you?” said Tenshi, who absolutely knew Komachi’s name.
“Now and then,” Kasen said. “Certain people are hard to keep out.”
“Too bad. I was curious, looking back, about whether that stench of Hell in your senkai really came from her, or if it was something else. No way to tell now, though.”
It was hard to guess whether that was deliberate needling, coming from Tenshi, or just her natural self. Maybe there wasn’t any point in trying to make the distinction with her; it was getting hard not to feel a little defensive anyway. Kasen said, “I do take my training seriously.”
“Good for you. But listen – ah, hark, foolish mortal. Now that you’re being officially blessed with my support, don’t you think it’s time you asked me for help?”
“Asked you? I don’t think you’d stop if I asked.”
“The meanest crumb of Heavenly wisdom is as a feast to an Earthly sage; a little divine guidance is the bare minimum. But anyway, come on. You’ll never make it if you can't rid yourself of those impure ties whose pollution yet lingers like a foul smell.”
“...Is this still about Komachi?”
Tenshi took a moment to toss her hair, which apparently constituted gathering herself in some form. She spoke clearly, with patient condescension as if she were addressing a child. “You’re still holding onto that thing, aren’t you? Why don’t I destroy it for you with the righteous purity of Heaven?”
Ah.
Kasen couldn't quite tell if she herself was surprised or emphatically unsurprised. Maybe just surprised it had taken this long. Whatever it was, she attempted not to show it. “No, thanks,” she said flatly.
“It wouldn’t be cheating.” Tenshi was promptly picking up steam again. “No, wait, maybe it would? Well, it’d be fine since you have my blessing. It’s not like you can be expected to manage everything yourself.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to understand me,” Kasen snapped.
“Of course not!” Tenshi agreed easily. “Who would when you’re not even a real hermit?”
One might have said a chill came into the air, but the senkai was much too perfectly temperature-controlled for that.
“I see,” said Kasen, standing up. “So you are tired of my hospitality.”
Tenshi looked up at her for a long moment. Then she took her tea and gulped the rest of it down at once. Finally, as if it were a decision she had reached, she laughed heartily and said, “Don’t be so serious. I’m on your side here!”
Kasen hmphed.
“I mean, I’d love to find out if it’s even possible for you to get into Heaven!”
Kasen hmphed harder. “I’m not a sideshow,” she said.
“I wouldn’t waste my time on a sideshow. Jeez, chill out already.” Tenshi gave a serious little sigh, as if she were terribly put upon. “I'm not gonna do anything if you don't want. Excuse me for trying to help, I guess.”
Kasen was not exactly mollified, but was at least regaining composure. She had to remind herself that rising to bait – intentional bait or not – wouldn't do her any good, and that she couldn't have expected better. “Your brand of help,” she said slowly, “almost makes me wonder if Heaven is even worth it.”
Since Tenshi predictably misinterpreted this, she seemed to take it as a concession. “I didn’t think you were the type to give up so easily.”
“But I have to admit – it also makes me almost want to show you up.”
“That’s better,” said Tenshi, smiling beatifically. “I would never play favorites among the lowly mortals, of course. But if there’s one wretched hermit I’d like to see make it big, it’s definitely you. The stuffy snoozers up there won’t know what hit ’em!”
There was that. For all her faults, Tenshi was at least guileless. Like a child, who interpreted anything beyond her understanding otherwise as a toy; like a child, overeager to share her excitement about it. All the more reason, really, that she ought to be chastised properly. But Kasen only sighed again.
“Fine,” she said instead. “But since you’ll never read a room, I’ll say this once clearly. If you make any attempt to meddle with that, you will no longer be welcome in my home; I will remove you from the premises by any amount of force necessary, and you can forget about my good tea.”
Tenshi shrugged. “Yeah, my bad or whatever. Truly, to strive against the folly of mortals is a travail without end.”
And amazingly enough, that was that.
The conversation managed to get steered into safer gossip after that, and Tenshi was ultimately content to be distracted from her ‘job’ for a while, having gotten all the dramatics done with. Nevertheless, to her pride and Kasen’s relief, it seemed that Tenshi really did plan to visit whichever other hermits she could think of. That would surely be a series of farces worth good entertainment to some hypothetical observer, but Kasen was glad to be done with her part in it when her divine visitation moved on.
So of course she wasn’t actually.
Kasen lingered in her garden. She was not reassessing her security systems once again, per se, because she knew that was hopeless; rather, she indulged in feeling a bit wistful over the hopelessness. She also didn’t reassess her begonias, but it was annoyingly difficult to stop thinking about them.
Of course, Kasen had a lot of experience in not thinking about certain topics. The ones that would have been even worse took her no effort at all.
Anyway, she was present when the next person stepped into her senkai as if it were nothing remarkable.
In this case, it was someone unfamiliar. A tall woman, poised and elegant, encircled by a very impressive long scarf – no, Kasen realized, not just a scarf, but an especially elaborate heavenly mantle. She couldn’t muster much enthusiasm for another divine guest at this moment, and she was frankly feeling a bit done with break-ins in general, but, well, here it was anyway.
Wary, and no longer as polite as she could have been, she said, “Hello?”
She found herself examining this person as if trying to read words off her; she felt vaguely like she had to get ahead of some other shoe before it dropped. Two heavenly visitations in a row couldn’t be a coincidence. But then, the whole point of Tenshi being here was that Heaven didn’t want to deal with her, wasn’t it? Did the girl even associate with anyone up there? Hadn’t Komachi mentioned something once?
“Greetings,” the woman had begun. She had quite a nice hat as well, even by Gensoukyou’s standards, and a floaty way of movement as if the air were water. “I apologize for my intrusion.”
The word fish came to mind.
“It’s all right,” Kasen said noncommittally. “But you are connected to our earthly celestial, aren’t you? I think I’ve heard of you.”
The oarfish’s smile did not falter, but it did become more polite. “No more than you are, I’m sorry to say,” she said. “But I cannot deny my familiarity in dealing with the Hinanawi clan and its most prodigal daughter. It is for that reason that I’ve been requisitioned for this task; thus I come to you today not from the Dragon Palace, but from the administration of Heaven itself.”
“I’m honored.”
“There’s no need for that.” Primly, the messenger bowed. “I am Iku of the Nagae, and I truly regret that I must inconvenience you with this interruption.”
Kasen could see that she was choosing her words very, very carefully. Somewhere far behind them there lay an immense displeasure. The purpose that had brought her here must be a real humdinger; it would almost be intriguing if whatever-it-was weren’t about to fall on Kasen’s head. Of course, she was presumably going to learn all about it whether she wanted to or not.
“Well,” she said. “I still have tea, so you might as well inconvenience me inside too.”
Iku defrosted somewhat over the tea, though there remained an air about her which said as loud as words that she was On The Job. In Gensouykou, it was rather a novelty to deal with somebody straitlaced. And polite. Presumably it was more normal in the heavens, though, at least among those who had gotten there by enlightenment.
In any case, it did mean Kasen might as well take the lead. “Should I assume that this has to do with Tenshi’s new project?”
“Exactly,” Iku said. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, her banishment has been rescinded.”
“More like it transformed.”
Iku sipped her tea and didn’t answer that. “She has served her punishment – more than once, at that – but the broader situation was beginning to become difficult. I wouldn’t want to bore you with foreign politics; understand that her status reflects not only on herself, but her family as well. It’s been something of a humiliation, and they have been petitioning to find another resolution for some time.”
“Hmmm.” Kasen might have been curious to get more details about the boring politics, in fact, but she could make a few guesses. “It took them a while to find a sympathetic ear, I take it.”
“After a point, it would cease to be a humiliation exclusively for them. The Hinanawi have always been loyal servants; to fully forsake their scion would be unseemly.”
“So there needed to be a charade about it, and luckily she managed to come up with the perfect excuse all on her own. At least, according to how she tells it.”
“That’s true enough, but not the full truth. The heavens have indeed glimpsed a certain sort of potential in the Eldest Daughter of the Hinanawi.” Bit by bit, one could be reminded that the original job of the oarfishes was foretelling disasters. “Tell me, what did she say about the official reason she was sent?”
“Oh, let’s see,” Kasen began cheerfully. “She said that nobody reaches Heaven anymore, and that the celestials were surprised to learn there were some of us on Earth still trying, so clearly we remaining hermits are inadequate and need more help. With her foremost example being yours truly, it seems.”
Iku gave her a little sympathetic grimace. “Also an incomplete truth – ah, not the part about insulting you. The fact is that Heaven itself has become harder to attain. There were some announcements made at the time of the decision, but the celestial outreach department is fairly limited. Regardless, the official stance is that Heaven is full; it is no longer possible to accept new ascensions.”
Kasen took a good long moment to consider that. It came with a sinking feeling somewhat beyond her own immediate prospects. “So saying that nobody gets in is literal?”
“Nearly. Enlightenment has been forbidden officially, but in the end, Heaven cannot prevent mortals from pursuing it. There is no acceptable reward to give the deserving; and yet how can Heaven itself righteously turn the deserving away? The celestials are deeply grieved by this, of course, and have been seeking to mitigate the problem however they can.”
Somewhere in her hindbrain, Kasen had the blossoming sense that she could see where this was going. It was like watching a good comedian set up a really elaborate punchline. She couldn’t have put it into words, but she already wanted to start laughing.
Iku, the comedian, appeared satisfied that her audience had been primed. “Thus their new emissary. And thus, to be on the safe side, a messenger tasked to follow the emissary with this.”
She produced a few pages of paperwork, along with a little container of ink and a small brush.
Kasen looked.
HEAVENLY EMISSARY SATISFACTION SURVEY, the cover sheet proclaimed.
There were a few lines of routine fluff which Kasen was glad she wasn’t expected to bother with: DATE and JURISDICTION and the like. They’d been filled in already with mechanical stamps rather than handwriting. Under NAME OF EMISSARY the entry read HINANAI TENSHI, spelled out with an i instead of the old wi. Kasen wondered if the Ministry of Right and Wrong couldn’t afford wis anymore.
Then there was the meat.
I would describe the heavenly messenger as: (mark all that apply)
▢ Impressive ▢ Wise ▢ Inspiring ▢ Intimidating ▢ Difficult ▢ Encouraging ▢ Helpful ▢ Zealous ▢ Intrusive ▢ Admirable ▢ Dubious ▢ Annoying After meeting the heavenly messenger, my interest in ascending to Heaven has: (mark one)
▢ Decreased ▢ Stayed the same ▢ IncreasedAfter meeting the heavenly messenger, my dedication to my studies has: (mark one)
▢ Decreased ▢ Stayed the same ▢ IncreasedAfter meeting the heavenly messenger, the likelihood that I would recommend the ways of immortality to friends or acquaintances has: (mark one)
▢ Decreased ▢ Stayed the same ▢ IncreasedI would rate my willingness to spend more time with the heavenly messenger or someone similar as: (mark one)
▢ Low ▢ Neutral ▢ High
It went on like that. Kasen didn’t take long to read it, but she still felt like a hush had descended by the time she looked back up at Iku.
“Amazing,” she said.
“Preparing these forms was an impressive feat of bureaucracy,” Iku said blandly.
“That, and you’ve actually managed to make me feel sorry for her.”
Iku nodded but said, “I wouldn’t worry too much about wasted sympathy. These are quite confidential, after all.”
“What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her, hm?”
“Yes, and she’s very resilient.”
If she did start laughing, Kasen wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop, so she thought things over instead. Finally she said, “So if she does especially well, will she be ‘rewarded’?”
Iku seemed to genuinely consider it. “Perhaps so. Her exile has already ended, of course, as we established. But it may be that if she excels beyond all expectations, Heaven will realize she has even more talent than they thought, and so they will once again need to find a new way to recognize that talent.” She gave a polished shrug. “I wouldn’t worry too much about that either. You haven’t been handed that much power over her fate; such decisions are complex.”
Kasen stared at the papers a long moment, toying with the brush. She could bow out of the whole ridiculous exercise after all, of course; it seemed entirely unlikely that Iku would force her. But she was already involved, whether she liked it or not, and it would be silly to deny that.
Once she’d decided she moved quickly. And, well – even knowing she was playing into someone else’s scheme, in all honesty, it felt pretty good to put to paper some formal complaints about Tenshi. After rigorously darkening both pages, she signed her name at the end.
She would have expected Iku to be too polite to peek, so she left her handiwork quite out in the open to dry; but the oarfish was equally open about reading the survey. “It was intended to be anonymous, you know,” she said.
“Ah, but you said the results are confidential anyway.”
“True,” Iku said. “And I do mean that. They will be well secured, but of course she isn’t meant to know they exist in the first place, and most importantly, she won’t be spending much time in the area. I have full faith that the Eldest Daughter of the Hinanawi can find her way past all of those obstacles, but I don’t consider it a likely scenario.”
“What? Tenshi, getting bored and going snooping? I’m sure she would never.”
Iku smiled. “Of course not – but I mean it would take something more than mere snooping.”
“The broader situation would need to change. I’m sure that’s always possible, mind you.”
“I suppose that is true. For example, perhaps in the future someone could decide that the parameters of Tenshi’s task should be adjusted, and with them the purpose of these surveys.”
That – actually took Kasen a little off-guard. It was a harsher conjecture than she’d be willing to float, knowing nothing of the people involved. “Here I was just thinking she might suddenly start to care what other people think about her.”
“Well,” said Iku, “anything is possible.”
“But since I trust fully in the will of Heaven that no such dramatic changes will actually happen,” Kasen said, “I’m just making things a little easier for the celestial filing clerks.”
“You’re very kind,” Iku said.
“Not at all. They’ve amazed me again,” Kasen said. “Now I’m beginning to think Tenshi might have even been right about at least one thing.”
“Again, anything is possible,” said Iku, and palpably did not ask.
“Anyway, I'm sure I won't be the only one. I don’t know if you’ve ever met Toyosatomimi no Miko before, but she may be physically incapable of not signing an autograph.”
“Mm.” Iku paused, sighed silently, and began packing up her survey. “Your understanding is appreciated, in any case. As you say, you are only the first to receive this visit.” She didn't seem thrilled about continuing her task, but Kasen supposed there wasn't any use delaying her.
“Lucky me, huh?” Kasen said ruefully.
“Oh, there’s no luck to it,” Iku said, and favored her with a small smile more honest and more exhausted than any previous. “The Eldest Daughter was very excited to get started.”
Well, now, how could Kasen possibly defend herself from that? She had a terrible suspicion it was right. Watching Iku prepare to move on, she once again weighed her options, but it felt as though somewhere, somehow, a decision had already been made.
She said, “I really prefer my visitors to give some sort of advance notice, but since none of the other ones do either, I won't give you a hard time if you happen to end up in the area again.”
“Don’t take this personally, but I hope not to. I do appreciate knowing that I'm not your least favorite uninvited guest, however.”
“Trust me,” Kasen said, “they get much worse.”