The Shunko Onsen

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The fog was creeping in. His belly rumbled. A trail overgrown with vines led deeper into the forest, and a stream ran parallel to the path, cutting across it before the treeline. That was as good a place as any to empty his bladder.

A girl (as far as he could tell) came running into sight, her cheeks red and sweaty. Spotting him, she squealed and shot into the bushes. That was strange. Goku wondered if there was any fruit in the trees, even if few of them had leaves.

Before he could check, a tigrine man appeared out of the mist. He wore a magenta cape and a shotel swung from his belt. There were probably fish in that stream. He could catch a few and roast them over a fire and…

“Lookee thar! A boy’s comin’ down yonder road.”

“Hello,” he said, bowing. “My name’s Goku, and I’m hungry. Do you have any food?”

The tiger man sucked on a cigarette. “You seen a girl with a lily-white dress muckin’ about these here woods?”

Though Goku knew of hide-and-go-seek, he pointed her out. She gasped and glared at him while he fantasized about roast fish with a side of rice, like his grandpa used to make. Shame there wouldn’t be any rice. The man and the girl got into a heated argument (which almost put Goku to sleep) that only ended when he barked her into submission.

“I’m mighty grateful for your help, stranger,” the tiger said, tipping his straw hat, expelling a ball of smoke with every breath. “Now why don’t you come and sit a while at my onsen? It’s only going to get colder.”

“Is there anything to eat at your Johnson, Mr., um…?”

“Jar Tur. Of course, there’s plenty of food at the Shunko Onsen, not to mention the hot springs. She,” he growled, jerking her shoulder, “will cook you breakfast. Would you like that?”

She didn’t look at him on the way back. Jar Tur gave him a room, but he could only stay for breakfast (and maybe lunch). The serving girls presented him with heated towels, which he had never experienced before, and a pair of plastic chopsticks. His grandfather had left him without any chopsticks, so he had gone through life using twigs and branches.

He spent most of the time in the dining hall. Clad in what could only be described as lingerie, the girls (of which, there were five) serviced him at every opportunity. When his rice reserves grew dangerously low, they refilled his bowl. When his juice cup ran dry, they poured him more. And when he looked bored, they would come running over to talk, as if that would get them a tip (not that Goku knew what tips were). They offered to go on hikes with him, or to drink saké and sing karaoke, but he was too hungry for that nonsense.

Three hours later, while he was on his eighth bowl of rice and gyōza, Goku witnessed the tiger slap a serving wench upside the ear. The man screamed something that might have been a curse and stormed off, leaving the tearful girl to mop up.

His focus ever on the World Martial Arts Tournament, the boy finished his meal, and, with a rice bun in one hand, went down to the hot spring. He had worked hard, had toiled through the brush for more than a fortnight since seeing anyone else. It was time to relax. There was nothing quite like enjoying a hot bath after so many weeks of training.

A pair of serving girls huddled in a corner pretending to sweep up and gave him strange looks. He was thinking about what he would have for dinner. Although grilled salmon was delicious, chicken shumai sounded better. There were plenty of fish in the wild.

The quiet pinewood halls, the minimalistic decor, the sliding paper doors, and the statues of what looked like constipated gargoyles (not to mention the flowery paintings lining the walls) almost made him feel like he was back home. The fact that he hadn’t seen any other customers only strengthened that sense.

At the hot spring’s male entrance, a girl warned him that he would not be allowed to wear clothes inside. While it was a curious rule, Goku was not the modest type. He flung his gi and socks aside and she opened the stone door. Steam spilled out; goosebumps rose on his arms.

It was vacant inside, save for the blue-haired server girl. Vapor rose from stone pools, which were dark viridian and shimmered lighter when wet.

“Hello… Goku, right? Is there anything I can help you with?”

“Can I eat this in there?” he asked, holding up the rice bun.

With the blankest of looks, she shook her head, then snatched up a dirty towel. Unlike the others, she didn’t beg for attention.

Two bites and he was in. The pool was warm, but not too warm, and he savored the opportunity to unwind for the first time in months. It had always been easy for him to daydream about food. Goku was grateful for the distraction, lest his thoughts turn to his friends, whom he missed dearly. He was getting a good sweat on, a great sweat, a beautiful sweat.

Blue droplets ran down the back of her neck while she mopped. Her eyes were ever on the floor. “We don’t get many customers. How’d you find the onsen?”

“I just followed the trail.”

A humorless chuckle quivered through her shoulders. “Me too.”

“This place is great. I wish I could eat here everyday, but I have to get back to my training.”

“What are you training for?”

“The next World Martial Arts Tournament. It’s in a year from now. I’m gonna win this time!” Goku’s tail was splashing around absentmindedly.

“You can’t leave until you pay for using the hot spring, not to mention all the food you ordered. I heard you ate a truckload. Thank the wolves I didn’t have to cook today.”

“Mr. Jar Tur invited me here. I don’t have any money.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling. Spent three days here, myself. Once the vacation was over, he sent me a bill, and I’ve been working it off ever since.”

“Why don’t you run away?”

“Have you seen how sharp his sword is?”

“That doesn’t scare me.”

“Not everybody’s a warrior, Goku,” she sighed. “We don’t get many customers. And when there aren’t any, the master doesn’t pay, so on those days, we rack up more debt. I still have Ƶ140,000 to go.”

“He doesn’t sound like a very nice person.”

She snorted and glanced over her shoulder, making sure the door had remained shut. “Trust me, you don’t want to stay here very long. The master’s a stingy man, but he’s also a hot-blooded man, and on slow days, he can grow… bored. That’s when he has fun with us.”

“What games do you play?”

“No games, Goku. Just be thankful you’re not a girl.”

Biting the corner of her lip, she walked off with her mop and pail. Vague notions of sympathy cooled his blood, yet only for a moment.

When Goku felt as if he were cooking like a beached coho, he returned to his room. Feeling peckish, he dressed in the blue-and-gold yukata that had been left in the closet and returned to the dining hall. This room was by far his favorite.

The same girl he had seen running down that road served him rice buns. “You’re not a very good hider,” he giggled.

She scowled and poured him a glass of milk. “This stuff ain’t free, you know.”

“It sure is good.”

His belly grew full; the sun was beginning to set. Goku threw the yukata in a corner of his room. One of the nice bikini girls would clean that up, he guessed. He gathered his things, got dressed, and set out from the onsen, the thirst of adventure tingling in his fingers. From behind, the tiger man approached.

“Now lookee here boy, where’re ya goin’?”

“I have to continue my training. Thank you for the food, mister.”

“Now that’s swell, that’s swell indeed, good young master, but I don’t appreciate you walkin’ out on me before payin’ for yer bill. Ya hear me? I want my money. Spendin’ time here ain’t free.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t have any money,” he replied with a smile.

Jar Tur flicked his cigarette away. His breath reeked of alcohol. “It was understood, young master. An onsen’s a business, ya know that. Can’t be giving away all that food fer nothin’. I’d go broke, damn it! Now listen ta me. Yer gonna work in my kitchen till yer debt’s paid off. There’s plenty to clean up, washer boy. Go on and get. Off with ya. I don’t want to see ya again till mornin’.”

“I don’t think so.”

Without warning, the tiger set himself upon the Saiyan with his shotel, swinging it wildly, for in his saké-soaked state, he had lost a great deal of his elusiveness and stamina. At first, Goku did not realize the man was attacking him, for the swings came shallow and slow. When the tip of the blade brushed across his nose, however, he kicked the sword out of the man’s hand.

The force of the blow sent the master flying into a tree, and his sword spun into the air. Dew rained down upon him. The girls had gathered at the front door. Goku flashed them a peace sign. As Jar Tur struggled to his feet, cradling his broken wrist, the sword came down upon him. Choking on blood, he fell, tugging uselessly at the blade that had pierced him through the neck.

The girls ran to him, tears in their eyes. One or two were screaming. A cold sweat ran down Goku’s back. He hadn’t meant for that to happen.

“I’m really sorry! That was an accident!”

He disappeared into the mist, and though they chased him, none could keep up for long. The Shunko Onsen (駿虎•温泉) permanently closed the next day.