by Jasmine Walt
“No…” Raiden breathed, staring at me in a kind of dazed shock. “It can’t be. It can’t.”
“It’s the only explanation,” Mamoru declared, his voice vibrating with excitement. “And it explains why I’ve never heard of her clan.”
“But no one has seen them for centuries!” Raiden protested. “Not since…not since…”
“Not since Kai was sealed away,” Mamoru finished for him. “Which explains why he is after Aika-san, now that he is awake.”
“Is someone going to explain to me what the hell is going on?” I finally exploded, my anxiety overriding my manners. “What are you talking about?”
“You, Aika-san, are a yokai shaman,” Mamoru said, fixing me with a penetrating stare that cut straight into my soul. “A shaman who controls monsters instead of spirits. No one has seen a yokai shaman in centuries, so you may very well be the only one around. And if that is the case, your life is in grave danger. Because if Kai needs a yokai shaman for whatever he is planning, and you are the only one available, he will hunt you until the end of time.”
7
“I…what?” I gaped at the old man, who had clearly lost his mind. “What do you mean, I’m a yokai shaman? I thought shamans used spirits!” Not that I knew a lot about shamanism, but that was what Raiden had told me.
“Yes, most shamans do,” Mamoru said, adopting a lecturing tone. “But there was a rare group of shamans who broke away from the traditional methods. They learned to harness the souls of yokai and bind them to charms. Much like the one you are wearing.” He pointed at the monkey charm on my bracelet. “Himiko, the ancient Japanese queen who ruled from her seat in Yamatai nearly two thousand years ago, was a yokai shaman. She was very powerful, and she could control the elements. But yokai and yurei shamans have always been at odds with each other, because many shamans consider the use of yokai to be a kind of black magic.”
I swallowed, looking down at the monkey charm. “It does seem like slavery,” I admitted, shifting uneasily. “Does that mean I shouldn’t use my powers?”
Mamoru shrugged. “From what little I know of yokai shamans, it seems that they are just as capable of good or evil as their yurei counterparts.” A wry smile curved his thin lips, causing his mustache to twitch. “The yokai shamans believed that harnessing spirits to do one’s bidding was, in itself, a kind of evil, as those spirits should be guided to the Reikai and not forced to do a shaman’s bidding in the human world.”
I frowned. “Is that what all yurei shamans do? Force ghosts into servitude?” If that was the case, how was it any better than what yokai shamans did? One could argue that yokai shamans were more justified, because many yokai were evil and caused great damage when left to their own devices.
“Of course not,” Raiden scoffed. He folded his arms across his chest, his dark eyes sparking with irritation. “We do our best to guide all souls to the afterlife, but sometimes we find one that would rather stay, like Katsu.” He fingered the little stone tablet on his key ring. “We form a partnership with those spirits, until they are ready to move on. And even when they move on, we can call them back when we’ve need of them. A fully trained shaman can summon any spirit they need, regardless of whether or not they reside in the Reikai or the human world.”
“And just what is that supposed to mean?” I bristled, suddenly feeling the need to defend myself. “You sound like you think yurei shamans are better than yokai shamans.”
Raiden stiffened. “I didn’t say that. I’m just defending our ways from yokai shaman prejudices.”
“Now, now,” Mamoru said before I could fire off a retort. “Let’s not argue. This is a momentous occasion, Raiden,” he said sternly, “and it should be treated like such. Aika-san’s talent could be very useful to us.”
“I didn’t come here to work for you,” I protested. “I came here to find out what happened to my mother.”
“And so you have,” Mamoru said, spreading his hands. “But how do you expect to rescue her from Kai if you don’t know how to use your powers?”
I blew out a frustrated breath. “I’m not sure how that’s possible, unless you can teach me how to be a shaman overnight. Kai has my mom right now. I don’t have time to sit around here for months or years.” I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself. “And how are you going to teach me when you aren’t even the same type of shaman?”
“The type of magic is similar,” Mamoru said, sounding unconcerned. He waved at Raiden. “Take her to the training room, Raiden, and get her started.”
Raiden stared. “You want me to train her? I’m not a yokai shaman!”
“Who else?” Mamoru spread his hands wide. “There are no yokai shamans here, Raiden. And since you are the one who brought her here, she is your responsibility!”
“I’m not denying that,” Raiden said stiffly. “But you know more about yokai magic than I do, and I have to get to Tokyo. My parents need me!”
“Your parents have ordered you to stay behind,” Mamoru growled. “And until I hear otherwise, those orders stand.”
Raiden’s jaw clenched. “But I can be of use—”
“Are you questioning my authority?” Mamoru asked, raising an eyebrow.
Raiden looked as though he very much wanted to continue doing just that, but he pressed his lips together and glowered instead.
“Good. Then you will stay here, and you will train Aika-san. You found her, and that makes her your responsibility. End of discussion.”
“Fine.” Raiden stood up, then stuck his hand out toward me, almost as if he were jabbing me with it. “Come on, we may as well start now.”
I stared at his outstretched arm. “Isn’t there anyone else who can train me?” I blurted out, a little desperately. I couldn’t bear the idea of being forced to learn from someone who didn’t want to teach me. Especially someone I’d developed an insta-crush on. I couldn’t believe how much Raiden’s sudden rejection stung, even though I understood his need to get to his parents. After all, that’s what I was doing, wasn’t it?
Mamoru shook his head. “All our other high-level shamans were called away. Raiden is the best we have, and usually, he acts like it.” He gave Raiden a look. “Don’t forget to take the charm box with you.”
Raiden froze. “The charm box? You don’t mean that charm box, do you?” he asked warily.
Mamoru scowled. “What other charm box would I be talking about?” he demanded imperiously. “Do you want to stand here all night arguing, or do you want to train? Neither of you are leaving this building until she has some idea of what to do with her powers,” he added, his voice growing low and threatening. The air shifted, growing charged with power, and the hair on my arms stood on end as Mamoru began to glow.
Raiden’s spine went ramrod straight. “Very well,” he said tightly. Not looking at me, he stalked toward the back of the room, disappearing between the shelves.
“Don’t mind him,” Mamoru said, refilling my cup of tea. I noticed the shelves weren’t just lined with books—there were ancient artifacts as well, though I couldn’t identify them from where I sat. “Raiden thinks he knows everything, but he is still young, and growing up in America has shielded him in many ways. The old gods do not visit here often.” His wizened face grew sad.
“The old gods?” I asked. “What do you mean?”
Before Mamoru could answer, Raiden returned with a lacquered wooden box inlaid with kanji symbols. An ofuda charm had been slapped across the latch, and I noticed the box was glowing faintly.
I frowned. “What’s that glow?”
“The yoki,” Raiden said. He still sounded irritated, but he was glancing curiously at me now. “I guess you’re able to see it now, unlike before?”
I blinked. “Is that why you said you could sense the ogama when we were outside the apartment? Because you saw a glow?”
“Yes.” He gestured for me to get up. “Come on. Let’s head to the training room.”
I stood up, then bowed to Mamoru. “Tha
nk you for the tea,” I said, “and the conversation.”
Mamoru huffed. “No need for thanks,” he said, waving us away. “Now get going. I have work to do!”
Raiden and I grabbed our shoes, then got back into the elevator. “What a strange guy,” I muttered as we began to go down. “He’s nice one moment, grumpy the next.”
Raiden shrugged, and some of his annoyance seemed to dissipate with the motion. “Mamoru is an elder, so he’s allowed his mood swings.” The hint of derision in his voice told me exactly what Raiden thought of that, but to his credit he didn’t say anything disparaging about the old man. An awkward silence fell between us, and we both looked away.
Finally, Raiden exhaled. “I’m sorry if I came off too harsh earlier,” he said. “It isn’t that I consider you a burden. Really, you’re not.” He turned toward me, and the sincerity in his voice soothed some of the sting from earlier. “It’s just that I really wasn’t expecting any of this.” Frustration bubbled in his voice.
“That makes two of us,” I said, raising my eyebrows. I held his gaze for several seconds before I added, “But I was rude to you too, for the same reason. We’re both shaken up tonight.” I gave him a small smile. “I guess you could say this makes us even.”
Raiden chuckled. “That’s not the answer I was expecting, but I’ll take it.”
The doors opened into another room with tatami mat flooring. The tang of old sweat mixed with the fragrance of jasmine flowers made my nose wrinkle, and I looked around to see that this was a kind of dojo. There was a sitting area toward the front with cubbies, where you could store your shoes and hang your coats, and two walled off changing areas. A hallway cut through the center of the room, which was subdivided into various smaller rooms by drywall. Some of the rooms had windows that you could look into, while others were completely closed off.
“I thought we were here to do shaman training?” I asked as Raiden led me into the biggest room, toward the back. The walls were lined with every weapon imaginable, as well as boxing pads of varying shapes and sizes. There were gym mats stacked in a corner, and a huge wire basket filled with sparring gear.
“We are,” Raiden said, sitting cross-legged on the floor. His thigh muscles strained against his jeans as he settled, and I had to force myself not to stare. “Shamans are required to train both our bodies and our minds,” he continued as I sat down in front of him, as far away as I possibly could without being obvious. “The stronger our bodies are, the better our spirits are able to use them. There’s little point in merging with a samurai spirit if your body is too weak to wield a sword.”
“Makes sense,” I admitted, scanning the weapons on the walls again. “Do you know how to use all of those?”
“Most of them.” Raiden set the lacquered box down between us. “Open it.”
My stomach fluttered, this time with nerves, as I stared down at the box. Hesitantly, I reached for the ofuda and pulled it off. The paper withered to ash in my hand, and the box immediately began to glow brighter, no longer hampered by the ofuda’s magic. Holding my breath, I flipped up the gold clasp and opened the box, bracing myself for a yokai to come rushing out.
“Relax,” Raiden said, sounding amused. I met his gaze, and glared at the mirth I found in his eyes. “They’re just charms. They won’t bite…yet.”
“Whatever,” I muttered, tearing my eyes away from him so I could focus on the contents of the box. Sure enough, it was filled with tiny charms of all shapes and sizes—a turtle carved out of jade, a metal ball covered in sakura blossoms, a tiny ofuda in a silk drawstring pouch. They were all the kind of charms you’d find at a Shinto shrine or Buddhist temple…except they were old, the colors faded and the paint chipped on many of them. The stone ones were shiny and smooth, and some of the carving details had worn away, as if by repeated touching.
“So all of these can summon a yokai?” I asked, pulling out a shiny yen coin attached to a jewelry fob with two tiny bells. The charm flared, nearly blinding me, and I shrieked, dropping it back into the box.
“Whoa!” Raiden said as I scrambled back, his eyes wide. “I’ve never seen them do that before.”
I pressed a hand to my hammering chest as I stared at him. “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
“A good thing.” Raiden picked up the same charm I’d dropped. It had gone back to its faint glow from before, and what’s more, it didn’t react to his touch. “The fact that the charm responded to you means that you really are a yokai shaman. No one in the Takaoka Clan has ever been able to harness the power inside these charms. You’ll be the first to use them in at least two thousand years.”
There was an odd note in his voice—almost as if he was both amazed and disappointed. But my mind latched onto something else he’d said, and my mouth dropped open in shock. “Doesn’t that make these ancient artifacts? They should be in museums!”
“Some of them were,” Raiden said darkly. “Our family has been recovering them over the centuries. You don’t think we could leave such powerful objects in the hands of normal humans, could you? That’s just a recipe for disaster.”
“But I thought humans can’t use these?” I asked, confused. “What’s the harm?”
“Yeah, but funny things tend to happen when you leave objects like these around. That’s why they were kept locked up.” He tapped on the box. “Pick a charm. Whichever one calls you the most. We’re going to summon your first yokai.”
Sweat broke out on the small of my back. “I don’t think I’m ready for this.”
Raiden sighed. “Like Mamoru said, the concept isn’t going to be very different from what a normal shaman does.” He unhooked his keychain from his belt and held it up. “These are tiny mortuary tablets,” he said, holding up three tiny rectangular stone pieces with Japanese characters carved on them. They instantly began to glow brighter in his hand—not quite as bright as the yokai charm, but close. “This one here,” he said, picking up the middle stone, “is the one Katsu sleeps in when I’m not using it. The other two have different spirits.”
I frowned. “So you’re saying that the spirits sleep in them?”
Raiden nodded. “They need a place to relax when I’m not using them and when they’re not wandering around. That would usually be their graves, but since those are far away, we use the mortuary tablets.” He tapped the side of Katsu’s tablet. “Mezame,” he intoned.
The tablet flashed, and Katsu appeared, sword in hand. “Where is the danger?” he demanded, sweeping the room with a penetrating glare. His eyes narrowed as he saw me, and he raised his sword. “Is it her?”
“No!” Raiden jumped to his feet. “Calm down, Katsu. Aika isn’t an enemy. We’re training.”
“Oh.” Katsu lowered his sword, looking disappointed. It would have been comical if I wasn’t in such a bad mood. “So what do you want me to do?”
“What you do best, of course.” Smirking, Raiden crossed the room. He took a heavy wooden bokken from its mount on the wall and gave it a few experimental swings.
Katsu huffed. “Your form is terrible.”
“Well excuse me for not being a thousands-year-old samurai.” Raiden tucked the sword into his belt, then clasped his hands together. “Maji,” he commanded, power beginning to glow from his body. His ponytail began to swing, even though there was no wind, and the ends of his button-down shirt rustled. Merge, he’d said.
Katsu’s form swirled into a fiery ball and shot across the room to Raiden’s waiting palm. He grabbed the ghost, and I gasped as he slammed it into the center of his chest. Dark red ki flared around him as he absorbed the spirit. His eyes snapped open, blazing with the same orange fire as before.
“A paltry weapon,” Katsu said, his deep voice coming out of Raiden’s throat as he drew the bokken from Raiden’s belt. “But it is better than the broom handle.” He turned his imperious gaze to me. “Bring that flimsy punching bag to the center of the room.”
Swallowing, I did as the ghost asked. Even though he
was in Raiden’s body, he was still intimidating as hell—his presence was immensely powerful, which I guess was only to be expected for someone who had been a daimyo. A row of freestanding punching bags were lined up against the wall, and I picked the smallest one, which looked like it was the easiest to carry.
“Not that one,” Katsu scoffed as I began to roll it. “Do I look like a weakling to you?”
“No, but I am.” Finding my courage, I met the samurai’s gaze steadily. “If you want a bigger one, get it yourself.”
Katsu/Raiden’s nostril’s flared at the insolent tone in my voice. “If you were a servant, I would have you whipped for that.”
“It’s a good thing you’re the servant, then, instead of the master,” I said lightly, standing the punching bag up. I stepped away, giving him plenty of space. “Now are you going to hit it, or are you all talk?”
Katsu laughed, a deep, surprisingly warm sound that threw me off. “I like you,” he said, raising his sword. “There is fire in your soul.”
He moved then, a blur of motion my eyes barely followed. One moment he was standing ten feet from the bag, and then he was right next to it, his sword plowing into the faux leather with a loud crack. The bag tore open, cotton gushing everywhere as Katsu sliced almost completely through it.
“Hmph.” Katsu withdrew the sword and slid it back into Raiden’s belt in one smooth motion. “We should have used the katana.” He gestured to one of the sheathed swords hanging on the wall.
“I’ll take that under advisement,” Raiden said, taking control. “Sanshutsu,” he ordered, placing a hand against his chest. Yield.
Raiden’s chest flared bright red as Katsu was expelled in a burning ball of light. It hovered there for a moment before reforming into the ancient samurai.
“I am retiring for the evening,” Katsu declared imperiously. “Do not call on me again unless there is real danger.”
He disappeared back into the mortuary tablet with another flash of light.
