26.ii Of Peach Soda Pop and Pilfering

~ Ham Song ~

Ham Song was enjoying his solitude just off the side of a bike trail when the monk and the corgi decided to show up. He caught a bit of their conversation before he even saw them through the tall, swaying grass.

He heard Baobei’s voice first. “A sun clone? Do you mean your friend, Sun Ritsu?”

“No,” Bodhi said with their usual disaffected airiness. “Not him. And no tourists either. See if you can find me a local resident. Surely there are some monkey spirits who live around here. It can’t all be bunnies and pooches in these parts.”

There was a pause as Baobei considered. And then, “There are definitely a handful of sun clones that reside in the Village. I just… suppose I were to find one. What would I say to get them to come with me? Bribery is not a cute form of persuasion.”

“Say whatever you want,” the monk huffed. It sounded to Ham Song like they were trying to hide their agitation.

The corgi, however, didn’t seem to notice. She told them that she would try her best before saying, “Your friend Ham Bone is right over there.”

Sage, how many times do I have to tell that green dog that my name is Ham Song?

As soon as Bodhi pulled back the shoot of grass and fixed Ham Song with one of their lilting grins, he narrowed his eyes at them under the glare of the sun.

“How did you find me?”

You should know, Dear Traveler, that the pig’s irises appeared more ruby than black in the sunlight. The only indication that Bodhi gave of noticing this was in the slight arch of their brow.

“Baobei has all of our scents stored away in her incredible olfactory nerves,” Bodhi said as they tapped the side of their slight, freckled nose. “She can track us down with ease as long as we are within the limits of the Village. Which, if you don’t think too hard about how creepy that is, makes for a rather convenient perk.”

“What do you want, monk?”

“Alright, Ham Song,” Bodhi said brightly. “You’re going to help me snag some booze. I don’t believe for one sweet immortal second that these button-eyed little furballs aren’t hiding anything around here.”

Ham Song snorted, “I’m going to help you snag what now?”

Bodhi dropped to their knees and tried to sling their arm around Ham Song’s lumpy shoulders, but the pig shuffled backwards before the monk could lock him in.

“I don’t think so.” The pig spirit squealed. “The last time I tried to help you look for something, I ended up on a chopping block!”

Bodhi huffed and rolled their gray eyes, but their expression was nonetheless heavy with regret.

“What’s it going to take, Ham Song? Hm?” The monk folded their knees under them. “I am sorry for what I did.” They made sure to lock eyes with the pig before turning their gaze downward and slowly bowing towards the earth.

Ham Song watched in disbelief as Bodhi entered a complete state of supplication, their forehead resting humbly against the sandy bike path.

Ham Song felt his mouth go dry. The weighted silence between himself and the monk was broken by the sound of the pig’s hooves shifting unevenly against the grass as he backed up.

“Great Sage. Monk, get up before you make me drop my Luck.”

Bodhi took their time rising, but kept their gaze aimed at the ground. “Does this mean you’ll help me?”

Ham Song sat back on his rump and brought his hoof up to the wrinkle of meat between his eyes. He did his best to pinch the flesh, if only to relieve a microscopic amount of tension.

“Fine,” he groaned, convincing himself that they weren’t going to find any alcohol anyway.