34.i Like Scooping the Moon from the Water

~ Ham Song ~

Whenever Ham Song went dumpster diving in the pastel alleyways of the Dog Province, he spent less time digging around for paper spaces and more time eating garbage.

Ham Song was both appalled and delighted by the amount of uneaten, barely soiled food that made it in with the rest of the city’s waste. While digging around, his curious snout found itself snug inside of an old styrofoam cup of Now Noodles. Not that the pig was complaining. On the contrary, he grunted contentedly while breathing in the cold, mushy contents, lapping up sticky, somewhat soured oyster sauce.

If this all sounds gross and a little unnecessary, then you’re right. It was. But sometimes, Dear Traveler, one-track minded individuals like Ham Song need to be stuck somewhere in order to engage in any meaningful sort of self reflection.

There was a lot Ham Song could have been and, quite honestly, should have been reflecting on when it came to how he conducted himself in this spiritual existence. There was a reason why he was cursed in the first place, you know.

Cursed to be a fat swine rather than the immortal draconic spirit he was meant to be.

The reasons that led to this curse are lost in the confusion of Ham Song’s mind. He does not remember what happened, Dear Traveler. He only knows the facts. That he was once immortal and quite powerful actually.

It might be a good time to explain what it even means to be immortal. I suspect that in your understanding of the world, the word immortal suggests that one cannot die. While that is true, the same meaning cannot be applied to inhabitants of the Ninth Heaven. We are spirits. Technically, we cannot die because we are not really alive. Or rather, we are not fixed in the dimension that humanae like Bodhi hail from.

For spirits, immortality refers to the durability of one’s essence. Immortals have almost no weaknesses in their essence and therefore will not easily bend to the call of the Lake of Ninefold Darkness – a concentrated mass of exhausted or damaged spiritual essence where spirits are broken down, blended with everyone else’s essence and slowly reassemble into a new and possibly different form.

Although the Lake is a place of rebirth and all spirits find themselves there one way or another, it’s not the most fun place to be. No one wants to lose all sense of self and be at the mercy of chance when growing a whole new body and consciousness. It can be overwhelming and scary. The outcomes of being reborn in the Lake of Ninefold Darkness vary drastically. Some spirits come back as they are, memories in tact, personality in tact. But those are the Lucky ones.

Many are not happy with the new form the Lake chose for them. Many lose their memories. The amount that is lost varies from spirit to spirit.

I sense that you have more questions concerning the Lake and the immortal kind, but if we don’t get back to the pig, we could easily be here forever.

Anyway, it was moments like these when Ham Song would lean so far into his instincts as a pig that he questioned his origins as a dragon in the first place.

No, no. This cannot be my essence. It cannot be.

Sweat pebbled between the creases of Ham Song’s jowls as he dug his snout deeper in the styrofoam cup.

I am immortal kind. I am Lucky. I have magnificent whiskers and elegant antlers! I can fly like a silk ribbon. I can swim like the wild unagi. I am. I am!

It was getting harder for Ham Song to breathe. He tried to catch his breath, but snorted up cold noodles instead.

A pair of rough, warm hands took hold of Ham Song by the waist and dragged him out of the trash before he could suffocate.

“No offense, Ham Song,” Sun Ritsu grunted as he carried Ham Song away from the giant waste receptacle, “but your breath really stinks. Did you have onions for lunch?”

Ham Song reclaimed his bearings and spat the instant noodle container off of his face.

“No! You were taking so long that I had no choice but to find my own food.”

“Ham Song.” Ritsu set the pig down on the concrete. “Please stop eating out of the trash. You know it hurts my feelings.”

The sun clone held up the greasy bag of fast food to emphasize his point.

Ham Song licked his chops. “Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll eat whatever you bring me. It’s impossible to spoil my appetite, benevolent monkey. Now hand over that bag. I’m truly starving.”

Ritsu made a tired, defeated sound as he let go of the bag and reached inside his hoodie for his cigarettes.

Ham Song didn’t bother to prepare a place to eat. He chose to just dig in right there on the sidewalk. Ritsu parked himself next to him, propping his elbows on the peaks of his open knees and bowing slightly forward, head resting against his wrist.

He took a long drag on his cigarette and said on the exhale, “I gotta find a way to get Bodhi out of there, Ham Song. This is taking too long.”

Ham Song rolled his eyes. He wasn’t interested in discussing that damned bald hooligan in the middle of his dinner.

“I don’t know where you picked up that ugly habit, but you should really stop.” Ham Song narrowed his eyes at the burning cigarette. “It’s bad for you, monkey, and it stinks.”

Ritsu shrugged. “I’m not allowed to smoke at work… and no disrespect, but weren’t you just eating out of the trash?”

Ham Song oinked a very dry, so what.

“So,” Ritsu shot him a look, “don’t be a hypocrite.” He said it with that same raw finality that he sometimes used to defend Bodhi’s clown behavior.

Ham Song rolled his eyes. “Okay, okay. Whatever. So what’s that other thing you’ve got in your pocket?”