Medusa: Eternal Journey with Holy Light

Banana Fish characters belong to their various owners.


Within the black limo’s luxuriant, shadowy interior, half a phone conversation could be heard:

“ . . . yes, the jetlag still bites.  I just came back from the other side of the Globe, so you can surely understand . . . 

“No, this supposedly divine espresso you’ve instructed my secretary to make for me doesn’t really help at all  (sipping sounds) . . . though, a funny thing happening earlier on did manage to brighten up my day.

“Do you know?  Sing actually took the initiative to call me just now.  Yes, looks like he’s finally ready to consider seriously taking over the New York branch -- bet Eiji has finally fortified his friend zone  . . . but, that wasn’t what makes this funny as hell.

“Sing . . . that brat; he actually said on the phone: ‘You better not lose your head over that Italian boy toy of yours I keep hearing about -- I don’t appreciate having to run the New York branch with the emperor’s evil concubine breathing down my neck!’

“I know, right?  (laughter)  If Sing only knew . . .   (calms breath)

“How things can change . . . why, I remember back in the day, I was the one who was considered your boy toy, and you my elder by far.

“I was so certain then our partnership would have ended in either your death or mine within mere months.

“ . . . oh wait, you did die; though not by my hand, and not for me.

“But, without your death and what came after, these last seven years would’ve been completely different, for me and for everyone else.

“The Medusa Project -- that which has now become the Lee Clan’s trump card against major global powers -- would not have happened.

“Monstrous though you were back then, there always was this method to your madness.  And, that thing you did after we all thought you’d suicide-ed . . . some of us having survived that time do owe you favors still.

“Unlike some jellified but still untamable cat I can mention, your trusty long-time partner is not of the ungrateful sort.  So, my being fresh off a fifteen hour flight notwithstanding, trust in me to accomplish this ‘Mission Impossible’ to your satisfaction, Monsieur Golzine.”

The lights brightened as the limo moved, revealing a thick, half-opened pamphlet currently held in one of the speaker’s fine-boned hand, slim wrist currently revealed from under a rolled-up Chinese-style long sleeve.

The folder was titled “Okumura Eiji Photography Exhibition”.

The limo, glossy and sharp under the bright sun, made its ways languidly down the luxury-vehicle-cluttered 5th Avenue, heading towards Greenwich Village.

***

//“Data collection in progress: 98% complete.

//“All signs normal on Medusa Subject 03.”//

Submerged within a cylindrical tank located within a dark, unlit lab, with innumerable tendrils streaming out and about, the gloriously aglow entity referred to as Medusa Subject 03 appeared, at first glance, to be a giant jellyfish. 

A closer look will reveal the “jellyfish” to have a humanoid core long of limbs and elegant of torso.  It was a naked youth with innumerable electrode wires attached to his body, currently curled in a fetal position. 

His fair complexion was notably fluorescent in a way that no human flesh should be, to the point that his outgrown blond hair floated alit like a halo around his exquisite face.

//“Data collection completed. 

//“Medusa Subject 03’s Status Report Incoming:

//“Rate of muscular malleability -- same.

//“Rate of regeneration --  stable.

//“Rate of growth -- undetermined.”//

Medusa Subject 03’s upturned eyes, closed at first, slowly opened to reveal bright jadeite-green irises shining like those of a lynx in the night.

***

“Have a safe trip home, Akira-chan!” waved Eiji, watching as Sing’s Rover Mini disappeared down the road, carrying their spirited young visitor away and off to the airport.  The sounds of boisterous, childish bickering still audible through the breeze was proof that Sing and the girl had hit it off in spite of their ages and backgrounds being miles apart.  Given time and opportunity, the intergenerational friendship they now share could potentially blossom into something even deeper down the road.

As per her namesake, Ibe Akira really was a ray of light: a pure, untainted light that may well prove to be the only thing that could cleanse away those stifling shadows darkening Sing’s heavy, weary heart.

Eiji knew, also, how none amongst the living could brighten his own shadows, which would likely stick with him for the rest of his days.

And, as if to further dampen his mood, a passing vehicle sounded the following song from its radio:   

//“Ain’t no sunshine when he’s gone, only darkness everyday . . .”//

Sighing, Eiji turned around to head back into his house . . . and found himself stunned into stillness at whom he found poised at his front door waiting for him.

“. . . it’s been a long time.”

***

“Slowly, you don’t want to inhale the crumbs . . .”

Inside what looked like a baby’s nursery, what looked like a buff brunet young man barely out of his teens was caring for what looked like a toddler who could barely walk. 

The toddler was wearing a wristband with the words “Medusa Subject 02” printed.

The young man was currently feeding the toddler baby biscuits.  His wolfish eyes, watching the child eagerly eating cookies out of his hand, were softened by melancholy.

“ . . . I suppose you still cannot remember anything even now?”

The toddler, an Asian child made cartoon-ish by his monk-bald round head, mere blinked at the brunet with innocuous dark eyes while munching on the snacks.

“I see.” Exhaling heavily, the brunet man picked the toddler up, and placed him back in the confines of a large crib.  “Back behind bars where you along.”  He then turned around to leave.

“Pa . . .”

Stopping in his tracks, the brunet slowly turned around to again to face the toddler, now calling out to him from behind the crib’s bars.

“Pa . . . pa . . .”

“You know, there is this Chinese saying that Mr. Lee had taught me a while back,” said the brunet, watching the young child with an expression too world-weary for his young man’s face.  “It goes something like ‘taking the villain as your own father’.  Who’d thought I would actually get a actual demo, and from a Chinese, no less?”

At his words -- or maybe not -- the toddler giggled from where he laid on his back, looking as content as he was obviously sleepy.  To the brunet’s expression somehow dimmed further at the cherubic sound.

“Boy . . . aren’t you Ash’s friend?  Even after I gave him everything I had, Ash never once thought of me as being anything but a dragon he was trying to slay.  I was the monster who destroyed you in an utmost gruesome manner upon our very first meeting, and here you’re calling me ‘Papa’?” 

Walking back up towards the crib, he leaned over to stare down upon the toddler, now appearing fast asleep. 

“And you were the leader of Chinatown?”  He let out an involuntary chuckle then, its sound low and rasped.  “No wonder you people need the Lee Clan to run things for you. 

“You . . . just hurry and grow back up already.  Everybody is looking forward to the day when you’re again six feet tall and ready to avenge yourself; yes, even your actual murderer, namely me.”

The baby was already snoring, the comical sound of which contrasting the brunet’s melancholic tone to jarring effects.

“I used to think nothing of bottom-dwellers like you, but now . . . it’s been getting to the point where I am actually looking forward to seeing you back on your feet pointing a gun at me for what I’ve done back then.

“It certainly is not because of something as trite as guilt; no, I’ve long since given up useless things like guilt and conscience in order to survive this world.  Could be because I’ve already invested so much in you throughout the past seven years . . . yes, kind of like how it was with Ash back then . . .”

“I hope you aren’t implying how you’d like to rape the poor guy in his current baby form like you did me, Golzine.”

“Ash.”  Turning towards the door, Dino Golzine -- looking barely old enough to vote -- faced the blond youth entering the nursery with a neutral mask of an expression.   

“Everything you had to give me back then sure came with loads of lies and abuses,” stated Ash Lynx, still appearing to be in his late teens, as he stalked past the rejuvenated Golzine and towards the crib.  “Yes, you did save me twice, for which I suppose I should be grateful.”  Producing a plushy crafted in the image of a cute blond angel, he leaned down to place it inside the crib beside the toddler, who snuggled against it without opening his sleepy eyes.   “But Shorter’s blotched transdifferentiation process and subsequent lack of growth is entirely your fault.” 

Even clad under a designer’s shirt, the muscles on Ash’s back were noticeably taut with tension.  Listening to him, Golzine’s mouth flattened into a straight horizontal line.

“If it turns out that he is permanently stuck in this sorry state, I will personally blow your brains out before any of the others could object.  You just keep that in mind, Golzine.”

Without sparing the man a single glance, the blond was already turning away ready to leave.

“Going somewhere?” asked Golzine, eyeing Ash’s sleek getup, along with the telling presence of his handbag.  “Maybe to stalk Okumura Eiji under disguise in the name of ‘protecting’ him again?”

Ash visible stiffened at those words, but still walked on and away.

“Don’t bother.  The Japanese is currently in the company of someone who’s far better equipped than you when it comes to keeping someone safe.”

Stopping at the doorframe, Ash then turned slowly around to face Golzine with green eyes gone wide.

“ . . . you’ve sent Yut-Lung to Eiji?”

***

“Thank you for humoring my unannounced visit.  I’m happy to see you’re doing well for yourself these days.”

“I’m sure you’re doing far better, Lee-san.”

Willowy figure reclining sultrily against the sofa, Lee Yut-Lung -- who had remained long-haired and androgynous despite having matured through the past seven years -- smiled at his host from above the raised cup of offered tea.

“I saw your exhibit mentioned on the news even in Hong Kong, Okumura-san,” said the exotically beautiful man.  “You’ve obviously put in a lot of hard work to made it in this tough field.”

“Thank you,” Eiji smiled civilly back at the Chinese triad leader, all the while guessing at the other man’s motive for being here.  Could it have to do with Sing finally willing to take over the Lee Clan’s New York  branch?  Out of a corner of his eyes, he saw, through the windows, a number of Yut-Lung’s goons in black standing guard ominously around his house, and wondered how he was going to explain this to his neighbors later on. 

Nothing good ever came out of Lee Yut-Lung approaching him before, and this time appeared to be no different.

“I especially love the piece titled ‘Akira’.  You’ve captured a side of Ash so rarely seen by the rest of us.”

That had Eiji’s smile faltering: who was Yut-Lung – who caused Ash’s death – to be saying this to him in such a thoughtless manner?

“Lee-san.” He heard his own his polite voice frosting over at the edges.  “To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

“I’ve come seeking your professional help,” replied his visitor, readily.  “Are you aware of the Turritopsis dohrnii?”

“The immortal jellyfish,” said Eiji, recalling this trivia from a nature program he had watched on TV with Sing during one of his many sleepovers.  “It is an animal capable of reverting back to its younger self in response to certain adverse conditions.”

“The Lee Clan has kept a specialty lab focusing on the in-depth studying of this creature located right here in New York,” said Yut-Lung.  “I would like to request your service as a top photographer to create a photo journal of the lab and its subjects for promotional purpose and record keeping.”

Eiji shook his head.  “I’m afraid animal photography -- especially of minuscule aquatic creatures -- is out of my league.  I specialize in human subjects.”

“There are human subjects involved in the lab’s scientific studies.”

Yut-Lung’s casually voiced words set off all sorts of alarms in Eiji’s head: the last “scientific study” with human subjects that he had the (mis)fortune of getting caught up in was the Banana Fish fiscal.

“As someone who specializes in taking pictures of people off the street in their natural moments, I’m afraid I simply won’t be of much help to the Lee Clan or its lab.”  He then sipped his tea in pointed silence, waiting for Yut-Lung to leave.

Yut-Lung, however, turned out to be surprisingly persistent. “Okumura-san . . . okay, I’ll be frank.  I’ve actually come to you today to resolve this massive problem seven years in the making.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Eiji, feeling goose bumps raising on his skin at the mention of “seven years”.  Just what did Yut-Lung want from him?

Undeterred by Eiji’s increasing distrustfulness (one mixed with an apparent undertone of hostility, even), Yut-Lung faced him with what seemed to be a mild -- and courtesy-based -- apologia.   

“Okumura Eiji-san, even back when we were enemies, I’ve always believed that the love between you and Ash Lynx was the real thing.”  Putting down his tea, the androgynous Chinese ditched the homme-fatale mannerism and straightened up to properly face the guarded Japanese more solemnly.  “I am, in a way, responsible for you being separated from him throughout these last seven years.  So, I’ve taken it upon myself to resolve this situation, hopefully by today.” 

“You got Ash killed seven years ago,” stated Eiji, his fists clenching from the anger he felt at Yut-Lung’s words – especially at the ridiculously insensitive wording.  “Just how do you suppose you can resolve such a situation short of getting me killed too, Lee-san?”

He saw how, instead of turning defensive, Yut-Lung actually scratch at his smooth chin, as though trying to find the right words to voice what he was about to say   “Actually, Okumura-sa---” 

And the windows abruptly exploded in showers of glass shards, as what once was Eiji’s immaculately kept living room got rendered a war zone amidst the sounds of violet crossfire and loud Chinese cursing . . . . 

To be continued . . . .