Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 475: The Jester (3)

Dragon Raja 3

Pushing open the creaking door, Chisei entered the abandoned equipment storage room. The girls, dressed in elaborate costumes, stood silently on both sides of the passageway, their faces youthful and full of spring.

They were the beauties from famous Japanese plays—Princess Kumo from Narukami, Fujitsubo and Ukifune from The Tale of Genji, Osen from Sukeroku, and Yatsuhashi from Kagotsurube—all standing there in their splendid dresses, brimming with youthful beauty.

Chisei walked past these plasticized corpses, arriving at the center of the storage room. There, a heavy cast-iron bathtub sat, filled with chemical agents used for plasticizing bodies, emitting a strong, pungent odor. Leaning on his sword, Kumogiri, Chisei sat down in front of the bathtub and quietly waited for his brother to return.

Ruri had used Dream Tapir to pull him into this dreamscape, intending to use the dream as a stage. Ruri had been stuck in this dream for years, waiting for Chisei’s return.

Ruri had set a trap, and he could be lurking anywhere. The moment he appeared, the trap would spring.

Yet Chisei wasn’t tense. He sat there quietly, his face calm, resembling a piece of dead wood.

Tachibana had once shown him a ukiyo-e print, depicting a warrior clad in armor, standing before a long sword planted in the ground. The warrior was clearly about to head into battle, but he was deeply engrossed in playing a biwa, strumming with great concentration. Masamune had asked, “Have you figured it out yet, Chisei? Why would a man about to march into battle be so absorbed in playing music when his fate is uncertain?”

Chisei had no answer. Masamune had said, “It’s because he’s already at peace with life and death. Once you’ve let go of life and death, your mind becomes as vast as the sea. And with such peace, of course, he can appreciate the beauty of the biwa.”

Chisei’s heart was as vast as the sea. After meeting with Anjou, everything became clear to him.

When your mind is at peace, many things rise naturally to the surface. He recalled the summer he spent learning how to brew moonshine from sweet potatoes to win over a forest ranger who watched over the fire zones, just so the ranger would teach him how to fly a makeshift helicopter. When the ranger went to Tokyo for a few days, he handed the hangar key to Chisei. So, on a starry night, Chisei sneaked into the hangar with a nervous Chime. He pulled the rope with all his strength, opening the hangar door. The makeshift helicopter rose into the air like a giant dragonfly. Chime cried out in alarm, “Brother, we’re going to crash!” Chisei laughed and said, “Do you know what this is? It’s your brother’s helicopter! We won’t crash! We’re going to fly higher than anyone!”

Looking back, it had indeed been dangerous. Before that, he had only held the controls for about twenty minutes under the ranger’s supervision. After a lot of fumbling, he finally managed to stabilize the helicopter, cruising at a fixed altitude. Above them was a sky so clear it seemed freshly washed, and below them, the dense forest, its canopy like clusters of dark green flowers, rising and falling with the wind. The mountains stood tall, like giants sitting beneath the sky, while the helicopter flew through the clouds like a mythical chariot. The world seemed so much like a fairytale, and for a long time, neither of them spoke until Chisei said, “Happy Birthday!”

He didn’t actually know his own birthday, but he liked to think of himself as a proud Leo, imagining his birthday must have been in the vibrant summer. He was a Leo, and so was his brother. He wanted to give his brother a birthday gift, but he had no money, so he had gone to great lengths to learn to fly and get the hangar key. When he said “Happy Birthday,” he felt like a hero, staring into his brother’s eyes, hoping to see him smile with joy.

But instead, Chime silently shed tears. Chisei, shocked, asked, “You don’t like it?”

Chime replied, “No, I like it very much. But when the best days are over, there’s nothing left.”

Back then, Chisei had thought his brother was being incredibly foolish. But now, looking back, he realized how prophetic those words had been. Everyone’s happiness is finite. Once the best days are over, there’s nothing left. After tonight, their joy would be gone forever.

It was as if a god controlling their fates had let out a mocking laugh.

Light footsteps echoed from above, someone was briskly descending to the basement. Chisei grasped his sword and stood, turning to face the creaking door. Ruri was likely coming, bringing the bleeding prey to this inevitable, irreversible conclusion.

Chisei gently thumbed the hilt of his sword, drawing Kumogiri an inch from its sheath. His body, strengthened by ancient dragon blood, was useless in this dream. In this dream, Chisei was seventeen, the youngest member of the Execution Bureau; in this dream, Chime was also seventeen, just freshly fallen into becoming a demon.

Warm liquid dripped onto the back of Chisei’s hand—bright and clear like red beans. He looked up at the ceiling. The fluorescent lights flickered, and the ceiling appeared red, like blood. Large drops of red liquid seeped from the cement, dripping down like rain.

The dream was beginning to distort. Supernatural phenomena were starting to appear, a sign that the controller of Dream Tapir—Ruri—was approaching. His intense resentment was warping the environment. Wherever Ruri went, the space around him turned into a hellish, oppressive atmosphere.

“All these years, have you been living in this kind of hell?” Chisei gently stroked the hilt of his sword.

He bowed his head, listening to the trickling sound of liquid. Crimson liquid slowly crept over his shoes, as if he were standing in a pool of blood.

Thus, Chisei didn’t see the blood-red figure slowly floating up from the bathtub behind him. The body, soaked in plasticizing chemicals, opened its eyes. It was the naked Ruri, holding a sharp blade in his hand.

He walked silently through the pool of blood, a cruel smile in his golden eyes. From the very beginning, it had been a death trap. No matter which path Chisei chose, the result would have been the same. The younger brother who once clung to his elder brother, Chime, had long been buried with the sound of clappers. What remained was the vengeful demon, Ruri. The closer he got to Chisei, the more gleeful his smile became, blooming like a flower. He couldn’t contain himself and started to sprint, his blade cutting through the air, scattering droplets of water as it moved. His speed far exceeded the limits of a human, his motion so fast that it whipped the water into a bloody storm behind him.

The long blade pierced straight through Chisei’s heart. At the final moment, Ruri viciously hugged his older brother from behind, pressing his chest against the hilt of the sword, driving the entire blade through. He felt the heart struggling and convulsing on the blade, and he burst into maniacal laughter.

Years ago, he had embraced Chisei just like this, but it was his own heart that had been pierced back then. Now, he twisted the hilt cruelly, savoring the sensation of the blood geyser spraying out of that heart, splattering warmly across his chest.

Chisei stumbled forward, blood gushing from his back like a waterfall. This was a dream conjured by Dream Tapir, where neither royal blood nor ancient dragon blood could heal him. Here, he was just a seventeen-year-old boy.

All these years, deep within his heart, he had always remained that seventeen-year-old. The identity of being a “king” was merely a shining suit of armor, and inside that armor was an ordinary human heart.

But Ruri was different. He had waited ten long years as a demon, his hatred now surging forth with the force of a flood. He violently struck at Chisei’s back, baring his fangs like a savage beast. Chisei’s arms and ribs snapped under the assault. The once mighty “king” collapsed into the crimson pool, beaten down by the beast-like Ruri.

The door to the basement opened—it was a girl in full makeup, the sound of her footsteps had distracted Chisei, giving Ruri the opening to strike the fatal blow. The girl had a delicate face, covered in white powder. She wore the elaborate costume of Yang Guifei from the kabuki play Yang Guifei, holding a sharp dagger. The other girls, who had stood like statues, now came to life. Cloud Princess from Narukami, Fujitsubo, Ukifune, and Yatsuhashi from Kagotsurube, all the great beauties from kabuki history, drew blades from the sleeves of their costumes. With blank expressions, like female ghosts, they pounced on Chisei, their lavish sleeves enveloping him in an instant.

Ruri stepped back, distancing himself from the kill. There was no longer any need for him to act; his puppets would drag Chisei to his death in this nightmare.

This was Ruri’s nightmare, and everything in it bent to his will. In his mind, these costumed corpse puppets were alive, they were adorable girls who lived with him in an illusory kingdom, eternally singing and dancing. He had gone mad long ago, which was why he was such a brilliant kabuki actor. For him, acting was not merely a performance; every show was a real life-and-death farewell. He laughed and cried on stage, his heart bearing real scars.

Chisei gradually stopped struggling, his body being dragged by the puppets towards the center of the basement. Their slender, beautiful hands rose and fell with their blades, sending fountains of blood into the air.

Ruri covered his face with his hands in excitement, making strange sounds that were a mix of laughter and crying.

Why was he crying? He didn’t know. After all, the personality of Chime had already died; he no longer felt the pain of betrayal by his brother. Why was he laughing? He couldn’t say either. This demon of revenge had clung stubbornly to life, existing solely for vengeance, and today, that revenge had been fulfilled. Now, his purpose was gone. From here on, he was just a wandering, lost soul in this world. Even his mentor, Osho, Wang Jiang, who had led him into madness, was dead.