by DB King
Come to think of it, he had more reason to just disappear into the mountains and hide away from the world forever. Why am I even here?
Jin closed his eyes and sighed, leaning forward and taking a quick sip from the teacup in front of him. He might as well just ask. “Why do you say I have changed, uncle?”
“You smell,” Arima said plainly, and Jin bartered no arguments there. He had just come out of his room, not having changed his clothes at all, so the burns and the dirt and the grime were all still there. Heck, a thin twig that Jin was sure had been from the forest floor from when he was stuck in that vision was still stuck in his hair. “But there’s something different about your aura, dear nephew. Your eyes are distant and unfocused, and the air of confidence and superiority you once exuded is now gone.”
His uncle’s face was both grim and curious as he leaned forward. “What happened? Ebisu refuses to speak to me, preferring to train endlessly for hours and hours, even beyond his bedtime. That boy has been destroying the garden since your arrival yesterday morning.”
“Ah, that,” Jin huffed and chuckled at the thought of Ebisu following in his exact footsteps. Then again, Jin sincerely hoped not. His path had a tendency to descend into tragedy, loss, pain, and death. He shook his head. “Our journey was a resounding success—for the most part. Ebisu managed to tame a powerful Magical Beast all by himself. The Magical Beast was powerful enough to send me into a temporary coma, so I can say that his efforts were not at all wasted. In time, such a tattoo will prove to be very powerful indeed.”
Jin sighed and placed the teacup back onto the table. His uncle was waiting with bated breath for the continuation, it seemed. “We had journeyed into the deep woods, far from the main roads—far away from civilization. Magic was strong in the air and yet everything was strangely quiet. Something attacked us. I was knocked unconscious, and Ebisu rescued me by taming the powerful Magical Beast and absorbing its powers into himself.”
“So, my boy has become… powerful?” Arima whispered, his eyes widening and wandering over toward the window, where Ebisu was busy tearing apart what little remained of the garden, while the servants and the guards avoided him at all costs. His uncle seemed proud of his son. The way he smiled with pride, while his eyes beamed with joy almost brought Jin’s heart to a flutter. But then his uncle turned back toward him and asked, “That is good news, dear nephew. But I want to talk about you. What happened to you, Jin? You look and feel changed. You’ve explained what happened to Ebisu, but I want to know what happened to you.”
Jin paused, before releasing a long and tired sigh—the kind that old men often released when they looked back at their lives and found many, many regrets. Jin had plenty from one life and was well on the way to making more in this new one. His mother’s smiling face haunted his mind, her ghostly laughter echoing within the depths of his soul. “I don’t wish to talk about it, uncle. What happened to me was for me alone and no one else may know of it, and I would not wish it any other way.”
Arima’s lips seemed to curl to speak, empty words fluttered out of his mouth. Jin’s uncle sighed and nodded. “I see. I understand, dear nephew. I will not pry further, but know that I am here to help in any way I can. It is the least I can do for all that you’ve done for my family.”
Jin nodded. “Who is the mage that’s been skulking around the village as of late? I may have been cooped up in my room for a while, but even I can feel the odd magic that’s suddenly in Hirata.”
“Ah,” his uncle began. “You must be referring to Miura Shinji. He’s a mage from the Imperial Academy, who’s apparently been sent here to investigate an anomaly. I’m quite certain he was referring to that incident with the Wendigo, but it could certainly be something else entirely.”
Huh, they’re operating outside the capital? Jin had often wondered why he hadn’t encountered as many mages as he should have. As it turned out, most mages in Moyatani were holed up in the Imperial Academy at the capital, where they were educated and employed by the Imperial Court, which was quite strange considering the fact that the Shogunate held most of the actual power in the nation and not the Emperor or his court. My fight with the Wendigo must’ve sent some god-awful amounts of magic into the air for them to take notice, especially this far north.
Hirata was still technically in the Northern provinces, after all, though it was at the very south of what separated the north from the south. As per the Murasaki Library, the influence of the Imperial Court was centered on the capital and its outlying cities and villages. Since the Imperial Academy’s power came directly from the Imperial Court, their influence didn’t really extend much outside the Emperor’s reach—not that anyone could actually stop them if they did extend their reach, but they never tried anyway.
“Did this Miura Shinji mention anything unusual?” Jin asked.
Arima nodded. “Shinji told me of his intent to investigate you as well, seeing as it was you who fought away the Wendigo, which they considered to be a… what was it? Something about a mythical Magical Beast or some such—I can’t quite remember the exact words he’d used.”
“Well, if I had to guess… the Wendigo would very likely fall under a deviant-type Magical Beast.” That thing would definitely not fit any of the known Magical Beast types, hence the deviancy. If its powers from Jin’s previous world carried over to this new one, it’d be near-unstoppable. Its control over ice and snow and storm was unrivaled. That alone would be enough to put it at the very top of the Magical Beast hierarchy. However, what truly made it terrifying was its ability to infect people with uncontrollable, cannibalistic urges that made good men slaughter their own families in fits of hunger and rage, feeding on their children. If Jin’s powers from the previous world had been carried over, he would’ve incinerated that monster from existence itself, but he was weaker in this world—far weaker than he thought was possible.
If the Wendigo is here, could my old friend be here as well? Jin wondered. If that monster clawed its way to this new world, why couldn’t my noble and selfless Knight be here as well? Jin paused and sighed quietly. Seeing his mother again had brought along several childhood memories of the one, who would come to be known as the Hollowed Knight.
“Yes, I believe Shinji mentioned something of the sort,” Arima said. “I believe he said it was impossible for anyone to defeat a beast of that stature, hence his insistence that he ask you questions.”
“Oh…” Jin sighed and ran a hand through his hair, before shaking his head and groaning. “I never did explain what happened, did I?”
His uncle shook his head from side to side. “No, Jin, you did not, but then it didn’t matter to anyone how it happened, just that you saved this village from doom.”
“I didn’t defeat it,” Jin said, his eyes drifting out the window and toward the distant horizon. It was early in the morning. The sun was yet to rise over the mountains. For a moment, Jin wondered if it was ever going to rise again. But who was he kidding? Of course, the sun would shine upon the world once more before setting on the other side. The fervor of his life, it seemed, was not like the sun. It had fallen, but had not risen. “I threw everything I had against the creature until I ran out of magic.”
“It wasn’t even a fight, uncle,” Jin continued. “It just stood there as though it wasn’t even bothered by the heat of my flames and the power of my lightning, which it probably wasn’t. It was going to kill me, but something else came and drove the Wendigo away.”
Jin huffed and shrugged. “I hardly did anything to it, honestly. I am not exactly sure just what sort of being could cause the Wendigo to run away, but something came and did just that.”
“I had thought so…” Arima nodded. “Truth be told, you didn’t carry the look of a victorious conqueror when you returned from your battle against the creature, Jin. Your eyes spoke of confusion and defeat. I had wondered why that was the case, since the village was still standing and the ice and snow that’d arrived so suddenly had completely disappea
red, but I never thought to ask you.”
Jin shrugged. “I never claimed to be victorious. Whatever the case, I suppose I’ll have to talk to this investigator. The Imperial Academy will likely play a pivotal role in the war to come, if it does join—though, considering its loyalties, that is rather unlikely, since the Imperial Court, and the Emperor, is neutral in the internal affairs of the Shogunate.”
His uncle raised a curious brow. “Do you think they might become our enemy?”
Jin shook his head. He’d already considered that possibility before. After all, the walls he’d labored so hard to build would very likely be useless against a mage of sufficient power and skill. “That’s highly unlikely. But that doesn’t mean they won’t loan out their mages to assist anyone who’s rich enough to afford their services, which means the likelihood of fighting a fellow mage in the fields of battle is quite high.”
Arima sighed and took another sip of his tea. “Our Daimyo has many rich enemies. I just wish we won’t be attacked by a mage of a similar power to yours. That would be catastrophic.”
“I’ve already created several contingencies to deal with such possibilities,” Jin said. “I will enact them when needed. Hopefully, I will never have to, but war is unpredictable.”
“That is very true—” The manor shook and Arima’s face was frantic as he hurriedly stood and peered out the window.
Jin raised a single eyebrow as he pushed himself onto his feet.
His uncle turned to him and sighed. “Do you mind checking in on Ebisu? I’m afraid… the garden has run out and he’s turned his attention to the manor. That boy only seems to listen to you when it comes to his education.”
Ebisu needed to learn how to control his new powers without bringing the whole house down. Jin liked the place and it’d be a waste of resources to have to build another one from scratch if his student decided to level the whole thing. “I’ll train with him today, but I think I’ll have to take a bath first… and a change of clothes too. And also send a few servants to clean my room. I’ve not been in my best shape, uncle.”
“We all have such days, Jin,” Arima replied. “It’s amazing you’re already on your feet after only a single day.”
“Well then.” Jin stood and bowed, before turning toward the opened doorway. “I suppose I’ll be off to take a bath.”
Arima waved him off with a bow of his own, though the lord of the manor need not stand. Jin then leapt out the nearest window and dashed through the scared guards and servants, and arrived at the garden—or the ruins of what used to be the lord’s prized garden, where exotic plants and flowers were carefully tended and managed as to grow with grace and beauty. Ebisu sat at the center, his clothes covered in dirt and mud. The boy’s right foot pounded against the ground again and again, and upon his face was a mask of annoyance and frustration.
Jin approached him. “Ebisu, I see you’ve been training your new powers.”
His student’s face immediately lit up upon Jin’s arrival. Ebisu stood up and bowed. He didn’t seem to mind all the dirt that’d clung on his clothing, the leaves and the mud and the tiny bits of crushed rocks. “Master, you’re back from your meditation! Are you well?”
Jin nodded. “I am well, my student, thank you for asking. However, I believe this place is… unsuited for training, no? We will continue your training in the nearby woods… in a while. Meet me at the edge of the western forest in two hours, my student.”
Ebisu’s grin was barely contained as he bowed and disappeared from view. Jin’s eyes widened as he took a single step back. Was he seeing things? No, that was impossible—but, then again, he did just spend a whole day awake and talking to a wall. Jin shook his head, alongside the errant thoughts. He trusted himself a lot better than that. No, Ebisu definitely teleported away, he thought. He must’ve used the powers of that creature he has on his right forearm. Huh, what else can that thing do?
When Jin turned, he was greeted by a peculiar sight of numerous guards and servants, standing in formation. They all bowed in unison and spoke as one, “Thank you for saving the manor, Lord Jin!”
Jin huffed and chuckled. Ebisu was a child and, like all other children, had a penchant for breaking things, which—when the boy’s powers were involved—became a destruction of an entirely different magnitude. But Jin would be lying if he didn’t admit to the strange, fluttering feeling in his stomach when he heard the sincere thanks. He liked the feeling.
“It’s… nothing,” he said.
The crowd quickly dispersed. The guards returned to their posts, whilst the servants tended to the remains of the garden in whatever way they could. Jin stepped back into the manor, eager to finally have a proper bath. A quick whiff of his underarms had confirmed his suspicions: he stunk—really badly. A good, warm bath was everything he could ever want at that moment. Two servants led the way. “Your bath is ready and waiting, my lord. Please, tell us if you need anything.”
Jin smiled. He was never quite fond of having servants attend to his every need. They could have been spies for all he knew. But in this new world, he didn’t need to be wary all the time. It was highly unlikely that enemy lords would send spies to Hirata. The Engineer’s Guild definitely might, but they were honestly free to copy his public works if they so pleased—Moyatani could certainly use much better plumbing and sewage. “Lead the way.”
The air shuddered. Foreign magic had entered the manor. Jin hoped he wouldn’t have to face the damn foreigner, looking as he did, but it seemed fate didn’t care much about how he looked or smelled. Jin turned to the servants, noting how he was almost as tall as they were. His child-like body was a long way from catching up to his real age, but it was growing at an alarming rate. He shook his head. “I’ll go alone. The both of you tend to the gardens at once.”
Jin stood waiting in the middle of the living room. A fire burned in the great hearth, whereupon a cauldron hissed as its insides bubbled and boiled. The foreign presence approached slowly, like a predator carefully stalking and studying its prey. Of course, it was all useless as Jin already knew who he was and what he wanted. Still, with mages, it was always a good idea to be ready for absolutely anything. After all, Jin had no idea what this magic-user was capable of.
When the foreigner stepped into the open, it was to the sight of Jin on the floor, having already discarded his clothes and used it to wipe himself as clean as he could. Jin wore only his breeches. His hands gripped Agito, and his eyes followed the foreigner’s every move. “So, you’re from the Academy? Your magic is strange… and foreign. Why are you here, mage?”
“You tell me, mage,” the foreigner spat back with equal vigor. Jin decided right then and there that he liked this person. “The Imperial Academy detected an incredibly strong locus of power near this village several months ago. I have been sent to investigate. And when I neared this fief’s borders, I saw great watchtowers and paved roads, and around the village a great wall of stone and metal.”
The foreigner took a single step forward. Magic flared out of him—a predator, ready to pounce on its prey. Jin’s eyes darkened as he stood up and kept both hands on Agito, one on his companion’s scabbard and the other around its handle.
The foreigner stopped and spoke, “And yet the strangest thing I hear is this story about a child-mage, whose prowess in battle is so great and terrifying that he managed to stand against a mythic-class deviant-type Magical Beast and live to tell about it.”
Jin grinned. Oh, this was heading right where he wanted it.
He drew his sword, revealing Agito’s blood-red blade. “And? Would you like to hear about it?”
Chapter 11
Shinji didn’t like fighting. He didn’t like the clashing of blades, of skin, of bones, and of flesh. He didn’t like the pain that came after or the blood that inevitably spilled as a result. The Imperial Academy, of course, thought otherwise as it held dueling matches in a gladiatorial arena, where the students were pitted against each other to test their skills an
d their might. On occasion, a powerful Magical Beast would be captured by senior mages and brought into the arena as a sort of spectacle—a moving mountain the students must overcome, lest they perish at its hands. Only a few students ever died, of course. Most of the Imperial Academy’s trainees were too powerful to die at the hands of some Magical Beast, but some—the sons of rich and powerful nobles, who’d somehow wriggled their way into the Academy with neither the skills nor the talent—died rather easily.
The Moyatani people seemed to thrive off war and violence. It was in their culture. They looked up to the bushi as though they were divine avatars, who exemplified all their virtues and their beliefs. They were barbarians—warlike barbarians at that. Even the natural development of magic in their bodies evolved to be aggressive and destructive, taking power from Magical Beasts and using it for themselves, like a bunch of marauding usurpers, whose only purpose was to destroy everything and anything around them.
Oh, how he missed his tribe and the peace in which they lived. The Varnu despised violence and bloodshed. They prayed and apologized to the animals they hunted, and honored the creatures by using up every bit of it afterward. They revered and respected nature, and kept themselves far from the machinations of industry and technology. And their magic evolved in much the same path. They didn’t need to bend Magical Beasts to their will and absorb their essence into themselves to form a locus in the shape of a tattoo. No, Shinji’s people only ever needed to form a bond with nature itself—or, at least, an aspect of it. And so Magical Beasts weren’t aggressive toward them. They lived together in harmony, both sides respecting each other and tolerating each other’s existence.
It was peaceful.
And he missed that peace.
