The monk had finally given up their name: Bodhi. 

“What? That’s it?” Ham Song snorted. 

The monk sneered. “What do you mean?”

“Bodhi Li, Bodhi Xu, Bodhi Guo, Bodhi what? Certainly you have a surname.”

Bodhi’s expression lightened. “Bit of an old fashioned hog, aren’t you?”

Ritsu, who was looking out through one of the cloudy square windows, wondered if he would ever see that spider spirit again. Come to think of it, she hadn’t provided a surname either. Based on the richness of her skin and the texture of her hair, he would be surprised if her name ended in anything like Li or Xu. 

Anari.

Ritsu wasn’t sure why he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was clear that she was serious about her work, however risky it was. A career-focused spirit like her wouldn’t have time to waste traipsing the Ninth Heaven with a sun clone, a pig, and a so-called monk, looking for an extremely powerful and ancient staff – 

!!!

“My staff!” 

Sun Ritsu shot to his feet, disrupting not only the people at his booth, but all of the customers in the cramped snack depot.

The store manager shook his fist from behind the register. “Listen here, you crazy ape! I won’t have any of that monkey god buffoonery in my place of business, you hear me!”

Bodhi and Ham Song were staring up at Ritsu like he had grown a second head.

Ritsu took a few steadying breaths, waved at the shop owner and apologized in earnest. The spirit grumbled something else about the lunacy of monkey spirits before he went back to reading his dirty magazine. When it was clear that he didn’t have any intentions of throwing Ritsu and his friends out, the rest of the customers lost interest and went back to milling about. 

As Ritsu slowly took his seat, Bodhi dipped their chin and said, “You want to explain what all that was about?”

“Sorry. I just remembered something.”

Bodhi leaned in a little closer. “We heard. Something about a staff?”

Ham Song nearly squeaked. “Benevolent monkey, back at the noodle house, you were asking around if anyone had seen your staff. You were in the Immortal State.”

Ritsu did his best to sharpen the fuzzy images connecting back to Ham Song’s story, but his brain just wouldn’t give. “I-I sort of remember that. I just know that I had a quarterstaff once. It let me do a lot of things. With it, I could even fly.”

Bodhi interrupted, “Cloud-somersault. Not the same as flying, Sun.”

Ham Song’s pink snout darkened. “Monk, stay out of this. He’s trying to remember. From the likes of it, you probably just want the staff for yourself.”

Bodhi rubbed their chin. “You’re right, Ham Song. Something as valuable as a sun clone’s quarterstaff I could easily sell and use the money to buy an infinity gourd. Then I would never run out of booze.”

Ham Song looked at Ritsu. “I told you we couldn’t trust them.”

Ritsu scratched the back of his neck. “Oh, Bodhi’s just kidding . . . I think.”

“Sun Ritsu,” Bodhi’s face grew serious, “I don’t know if you’re aware, but there are not that many quarterstaves left. Only Suns of the highest order keep them. To claim that you are the owner of such an artifact is not something you should be announcing in a place like this. Or any place in the Ninth Heaven for that matter.”

Then Bodhi looked around to make sure no one was listening before dropping their voice. “If you want to find your staff, I would start by looking in places with Suns of status.”

Ritsu nodded eagerly. “Uh okay. Places like . . . ?”

Without looking, Bodhi swiped the empty pork bun wrapper from under the pig’s hooves. Ham Song protested, but Bodhi pushed it across the table.

“Places like this. The Horse Province’s annual Peach Festival. A handful of very powerful Suns host it. And lots of aspiring clones will be there.”

Ritsu picked the wrapper up by its edges, careful to avoid the parts that were coated in Ham Song’s saliva. In bright sharp writing it spelled out the time, date, and specific location of the Peach Festival. The banner was also decorated with peach blossoms, fans, and pitchers of beer.

“I help you get that staff,” said Bodhi, “and you pay me handsomely in Luck. Do we have a deal?”

~

Dear Traveler, are you still paying attention? Just because there’s a lot going on doesn’t mean you can just tune me out!

Well, I’d say that it’s about time our disorganized heroes get the hell out of this snack depot. It’s off to the Peach Festival! Don’t you just love them? All of the games, and the costumes, and the booze, and the– 

Say what now?

You’ve never gone to a Peach Festival? Why does that not surprise me?

I guess I’ll have to charge you extra in order to compensate for your lack of culture. Okay fine, don’t pay me. Just don’t expect the next installment of this tale to have any descriptions of the festival whatsoever.

Ha! Thought so. You may be uncultured, but at least you know what makes for an interesting tale.