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Side Story #11: Masashi's Field Trip
🕑 Added 2019-06-07 17:50:36 +0000 UTC<Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1.>
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Side Story 11: Masashi’s Field Trip
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■■ The Academy ■■
“Forswear thy claim, Son of Hashimoto, for I, Fumihiro of House Morita, shall be the one who rescues the pearly-eyed maiden! No spiritual realm shall separate me from the token of my adolescent love!”
The captain of the Academy’s Kendo Club was as emotional as ever, as were they all: the sight of their fellow student covered in burns troubled them deeply. Hitomi was a blind seer known in Hyuga as an itako, with the ability to commune with the dead. Yet after a traumatic séance with an evil spirit the girl had fallen deep into a coma. Her spirit was no longer in its earthly vessel.
“Quit with the monologue, already! Hitomi doesn’t have time for your speeches,” replied Hikiko, the ghostly shugenja who was typically dour and detached. At this moment however she was anything but: the pale girl paced around the medical ward while pulling at her hair, cursing and biting her nails all the while. “I’ll bring her back myself. You’d only make matters worse.”
“The railing of a witch doth burns my ears; such foulness—”
“How about you take that bamboo stick of yours and—”
“St-stop it, you two!”
The last yell was Masashi’s, the youngest of the trio who was all but ignored. Both Hikiko and Fumihiro had their own ideas on how to enter the spirit world, and neither of them bothered to listen to what he had to say. Masashi couldn’t get a word in edgewise before he was conscripted as the referee in a competition to save Hitomi.
“We ought to be working together, you...you bakas!”
■■■■
“Such...mundane labor is...beneath my station! What misfortune we find ourselves in...Son of Hashimoto!”
Fumihiro and Masashi grunted and groaned as they carried a bamboo lawn ornament from outside into Hikiko’s chambers. It was large and heavy, and was called a shishi-odoshi: a deer-scarer, known for it’s loud, rhythmic clapping. Somehow it was going to help Hikiko enter the spirit world.
“Place it over there, by the buckets,” Hikiko instructed. “You’ll have to fill it with water manually, at least until I’m unconscious. Try to be consistent, otherwise it won’t help my meditation.”
It took the two of them several long seconds to adjust to the darkness. Masashi knew better than to touch the walls: they were coated in ink, turning Hikiko’s room into a dark void for which no light escaped. This was, according to the gloomy girl, a requirement for sensory deprivation: a key aspect of shifting between realms.
“The very walls bleed with vile ooze!” Fumihiro gasped as he inspected ink on his finger. “You will not find my Lady-of-Flowers, the pure Hitomi-chan, in the hells of which you frequent, witch!”
“G-give her a chance, Fumihiro-senpai,” Masashi intervened before another fight started. “She’s trying her best. Now we must keep quiet while Hikiko-chan meditates.”
Hikiko gave the small shugenja a smile before returning to her regular scowl. She downed a cup of tea made from a variety of herbal ingredients to promote relaxation. After doing so, she lit a bowl of incense—lavender and jasmine—before taking a blindfold and wrapping it around her eyes. She then buried herself beneath a pile of blankets and gave the two the signal to start.
*swoosh* *THUNK* *swoosh* *THUNK*
Masashi collected the water from beneath the shishi-odoshi in one bucket before handing it over to Fumihiro who poured it down again. It was back-breaking work, picking up a full bucket and passing it off in near-complete darkness. The two didn’t even have the luxury of panting for breath as that would disturb Hikiko’s trance.
*swoosh* *THUNK* *swoosh* *th-wAH*
Fumihiro missed his pour, spilling the water everywhere but the bamboo chute. Masashi got the worst of it, his red silk robes getting drenched. The walls behind him streaked as the ink dissolved upon the water’s touch. Fumihiro then scrambled for the spare bucket, but in this complete darkness he couldn’t see his own hand in front of him. The two collided in their panic, breaking the bamboo device and ruining the meditative atmosphere.
Yet Hikiko didn’t stir. The two exchanged glances. “She must already be in the spirit world! That was quicker than I thought,” Masashi mused. The young shugenja was quite impressed by his fellow student, at least until he inspected her further.
“Gususu-susu...gususu-su—*snore*...”
Masashi smacked his palm to his forehead. While Hikiko had managed to enter a different realm, the dream world was hardly the spiritual one!
■■■■
“Fumihiro-senpai...I don’t believe this is a very good idea!” Masashi cried out as he struggled to hold up his shinai: a bamboo practice sword. The two were in the Kendo Club’s training hall, and during this time of day they had the place to themselves. While that spared the young shugenja some embarrassment, he was the last person suited for Fumihiro’s request.
“Hasten and do not waver, Son of Hashimoto! Common is the myth of the samurai who enters the spirit realm in the midst of battle, upon assault by many a foe! Strike me forthrightly for the sake of Hitomi-chan!”
Masashi grit his teeth. Fumihiro wanted him to smack him, and though this wasn’t a real sword...hurting someone on purpose was something the shugenja just couldn’t do. When he did swing it was without any force, and Fumihiro interpreted that as an insult.
“Very well then! Seeing as one doth value my valor so lowly...I shall have to do it myself!”
“What are you—” Masashi gasped. The warrior-poet began pounding his bamboo sword against his forehead, causing it to bruise and then bleed. He laughed like a madman all the while.
“These tremors that pierce my skull are but taps compared to the beat of my brazen heart!” Fumihiro declared, slamming his skull. He fell to a knee and bit his tongue, determined to give to give a soliloquy even amidst a concussion. “Forsooth! Bear witness to one so noble as I, who embraces such pain that I may embrace my pearly-eyed maiden in the world thereafter! GAH!”
The bamboo sword splintered, and after it did and the captain of the Kendo Club was a bloody mess, Masashi rushed over to his side. Though he was dazed and out of it that was more due to blunt trauma than spiritual awakening. Masashi let out a sigh as he carried his friend to the infirmary.
■■■■
“If only you two would have listened to me from the start...none of this would’ve happened!”
Masashi pouted, placing his hands at his hips as he berated his friends for being foolish. Of course they couldn’t respond: the two of them now joined Hitomi in the medical ward, each of them laid out on a futon unconscious.
If anyone was going to make it into the spirit realm to search for their friend, it would have to be him. And though he knew this it was hardly a comfort, as Masashi had read enough to know the many dangers involved in traveling between realms.
He took one last look at his companions before taking a seat at Hitomi’s bedside. “I must enter a state of complete calm, like Hikiko-chan, yet I must also exhaust my energy, like Fumihiro-senpai.”
But of course, that energy wasn’t physical.
“It’s spiritual. I need to exhaust all reserves of my magical power...it’s the only way to lighten my spirit enough to move to the realms beyond.” Masashi spoke as she looked over Hitomi, the older girl known for her serenity and grace. She was graceful even now, wrapped in bandages and heaving breaths at an ever slowing pace.
Across from her and against the window was a Wisteria—Hitomi’s favorite flower—though it wasn’t blooming. If Masashi recalled the itako correctly, it would only bloom at night. Looking outside it was just past midday. And judging by how quickly it was wilting, the purple flower would never get a chance to bloom.
Masashi shook his head. He clapped his hands together, and within them was a talisman. Staring out into the sky, into the afternoon sun, Masashi squinted and prayed.
“I’ll make it bloom, Hitomi-senpai. I won’t let either of you wither away!”
A surge of energy unseen by all but felt by every shugenja in the Academy emitted from out of Masashi. With his intentions pure and his pursuit noble, the magical boy pleaded upon his powers within. He started chanting a prayer and was determined not to stop until either his vision blacked out or the sun did.
One minute passed and then another, as the sun’s rays went from a harsh white to a gentle yellow, until becoming a dull red all while remaining high in the sky. As the world dimmed and as night came early, the Wisteria drew open just as Masashi’s eyes took to a close.
“I’ll find you...I won’t...lose...a friend.”
■■■■
Masashi awoke the next morning on his futon. After wiping the sleep from his eyes, he tried to recall what it was he was doing the day before. Everything was a blur, and before he had time to collect his thoughts the bell for the morning classes rang.
“Oh no, I’m late!”
He sprang up and nearly stumbled while doing so: his legs didn’t move the way he was accustomed to. They seemed to go further and stretch longer. It didn’t make any sense but it did help Masashi run down the hall faster. His classroom was right ahead, though everyone was already seated and to make matters worse, the Headmaster himself was there waiting.
“I’m going to get into big trouble! I could get expelled!” Masashi choked down his fears as he approached the open doorway. He bowed low and respectfully, prepared to apologize and accept any punishment for the sin of being tardy.
And though he expected to be scolded, all he got was praise, instead.
“There you are, Hashimoto-dono! Your presence honors us. Class, stand and bow before the most accomplished instructor this Academy has ever employed!”
Masashi looked around until the realization hit him: he was the instructor, and everyone in this class—his fellow students—were bowing to him. They were also each a foot or so shorter than before. “This doesn’t make sense...was I always a teacher?!”
The Headmaster bowed several times more before letting himself out. He made Masashi feel as if he was an accomplished shugenja already, and judging by the wide eyes and large smiles of his students they seemed to agree. Masashi was embarrassed from all the attention.
“Well then uh, does anyone have any questions?”
It turned out they did, as evidenced by the wave of hands that shot up all at once. Masashi was assaulted by questions from anxious students, eager to learn more about the spirit world, the magical arts and himself most of all. Many members of the shogi club wished him to join them in a match, what with him being among the top-ranked kishi in the country.
“Well perhaps I could oversee a game or two, haha,” Masashi laughed while scratching his chin. But instead of smooth skin beneath his fingers there was something coarse instead, almost like...hair? The shugenja shook away the thought, focusing instead on his lecture.
“Ahem. As for now, let us open our books to page forty-seven. The following is a passage by the renowned Shinto priest Saichō—also known as Dengyō Daishi—who is famous for writing the first ever account of a person entering the spiritual realm in a conscious capacity.”
Masashi went on at length upon the insights of the centuries-old monk, interweaving a variety of topics both practical and philosophical. His audience was captivated by his speech, many taking notes. “...it is the manifestation of these unseen waves of energy that our spiritual animals take form. Many scholars suggest they are the past incarnations of our prior selves. Coexisting without regards to time or place...it is quite fascinating, isn’t it?”
“Y-yes it is, Masashi-sensei!” said Hikiko, who usually never spoke up in class. But she was different now, her pale skin blushing red as she seemed both eager to speak up yet reluctant at the same time. She fiddled with her hair before finding the courage to speak. “May I ask, Sensei...how it is one would know if they were in the spirit world?”
“Good question. The spirit world shapes around the visitor’s own memories and desires, though this is often distorted by the subconscious mind. These distortions can come in the form of symbolism, so if you...pay...attention…” Masashi said ironically, getting distracted by a vase of purple flowers on his desk. “Wisteria? Where those always there? And why are they blooming in the middle of the day?”
Masashi winced upon a sudden headache, but he had a lecture to give and couldn’t stop now. The class wanted to know how to enter the spirit world and their instructor was more than happy to oblige. “You must first have a profound desire to do so, to reach out beyond your natural plane of existence. It cannot be forced. It requires a goal...a reason…ah!”
This time the ache was so great that it caused Masashi to fall. The entire student body gasped in unison, hurrying over to his side. By the time he returned to his feet and regained control of his senses, the bell rang.
“For tomorrow, please read chapters five and six! There will be a quiz on the Lotus Sutra,” Masashi grinned. He was already formulating the questions in his head. “Hikiko-chan and Fumihiro-kun, please stay. I would like to have a word with you.”
The sullen, sickly girl and the prideful warrior poet stayed behind, though both seemed to twitch and cower in fear as if expecting to be scolded. It wasn’t like his friends to be so intimidated by him.
“Have either of you seen Hitomi-san? Is she still in a coma?”
The two students looked at each other and shrugged.
“We don’t know anyone by that name, Sensei.”
■■■■
Masashi rushed around the school: first to the medical ward, which was empty, then to the cafeteria, the gymnasium, and the outside recreational areas. Hitomi was nowhere in sight. Everyone he asked didn’t recognize the name—it was as if he had never existed.
“That’s not right! I know you’re real, Hitomi-san!” Masashi yelled out into the barren hallway with tears welling up in his eyes. He pleaded for an answer, and got one in the form of a very gentle, ladylike laugh.
It echoed across the hall and grew louder as Masashi approached. These were the rooms where the club activities took place, including the Shogi and Kendo clubs. But this voice came out from one room in particular: the Flower Arrangement Club.
“Hitomi-san, are you in there?!” Masashi yelled out as he slid open the shoji door. He expected to see the room in darkness like before, but instead it lit up like a beacon of warm, glowing light. Dancing amidst this light was a girl in shrine maiden’s clothes, who was overwhelmed with glee.
Hitomi stopped her dance when she heard the short shugenja approach. Though Masashi was hardly short anymore—Hitomi had to look up to meet him face-to-face. “Is...is that you, Masashi-kun? You...you don’t look at all as I imagined you would!” The girl blushed, her cheeks matching the shade of the roses in her hand. “You’re very handsome.”
“W-well I uh, um,” Masashi stuttered out in embarrassment. “Wait just a moment! Your eyes! You can see, Hitomi-san?”
Sure enough, the once cloudy pearls were no more: in their place were large, black orbs so clear that Masashi could see his own reflection in them. “Wait...do I really look like that?”
“It is amazing, Masashi-kun! All the brilliant colors, oh you’ll have to tell me the names of each and every one! And simply moving around is so easy, and I don’t have to worry about bumping into anything! I’m free! I’m finally—iyah!”
Hitomi—in her excitement—tripped over an empty flower pot. Masashi reached out to grab her by instinct, sparing her a quick trip into the floor. With the girl in his arms, it was easy for an onlooker to get the wrong idea. Especially when Hitomi squeezed him.
“It seems that even with eyes I’m still clumsy! Hehe,” Hitomi grinned. “If...if it suits you, I would like to visit the art gallery Fumihiro spoke of in his letter. Would you accompany me, Masashi-kun?”
The young shugenja was overwhelmed with emotions, but seeing Hitomi’s genuine smile put all uncertainties to rest. Being able to see was a blessing that he himself had taken for granted. Masashi was determined to show the itako as much as there was to see.
“Of course, Hitomi-san! Let’s get go—ing?” Masashi gulped as his companion wrapped his arm beneath his. She was no longer blind, but this was a habit for her even still. The problem was…
“...it really looks like the two of us are going on a date!”
■■■■
“I darest not think what horrors the Son of Hashimoto faces in the realm beyond!” said Fumihiro, clutching his heart as well as his forehead, the later still stinging after his self-inflicted trauma. “Wouldest only my battle ritual bore fruit, ‘twould be myself at peril in his place.”
Masashi’s two companions stood beside his unconscious body, which had fallen over atop of Hitomi’s in the medical ward. The magical boy appeared to be sleeping soundly, but any shugenja would know otherwise: the spiritual energy the boy once emitted was no more. He had left this realm for another.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” Hikiko grumbled, looking outside. “It’s dark out already...I don’t like it.” Shugenja were taught to pay close attention to possible omens, and a black sky before evening was hardly a good one.
“We have naught to do now but wait patiently,” Fumihiro declared, crossing his arms and taking a seat on the floor. “Indeed, ‘tis a test of endurance I intend to see through!”
At that moment, a voice murmured out from within the ceiling. The Academy had a series of talismans lined in the roofing tiles, an extensive series of papers allowing voice transmission from out of the Headmaster’s office. It was only used for announcements and the most pressing matters.
“Masashi Hashimoto, please report to the Academy’s stables at once. The head of the Shinsengumi requests your presence. This is a matter of the utmost urgency.”
Fumihiro and Hikiko looked at eachother.
“Failure to comply will result in your immediate expulsion. That is all.”
“Aaaah! Curse the spirits, wake up Masashi-kun!”
■■■■
Masashi couldn’t believe his eyes, for on the exhibit before him was the first shogi board ever made. The pieces were crude and uneven, the board cracked, but many of the tiles were just like their modern counterparts: the silver generals, the knights and the lances. But there were others, too, like the elephant and chariot!
“So that is what a shogi board looks like. You shall have to teach me how to play sometime, Masa-kun~” Hitomi giggled and squeezed Masashi’s arm tighter. It was both an uncomfortable and pleasant sensation at the same time. Yet Masashi couldn’t help but think the itako was acting strangely.
“Teaching...right, for some reason I’m a sensei now?” Masashi clutched his head as it began to beat with a pulsating pain. “How can that be...and why weren’t you in class, Hitomi-san?”
His companion only giggled in reply. “None of that matters. Oh—look at this!”
Hitomi pointed out to the next exhibit, this one being a series of outrageous outfits and masks: kabuki attire belonging to none other than Okuni-sama, the founder of the first kabuki troupe to ever exist. It was an all-female group of mikos renowned for bringing hope and laughter to the people during the chaotic decades of the Golden Era.
“So this is the kabuki Hikiko-chan is so interested in. We ought to watch a play sometime, Masa-kun! I’m certain it will be fun!”
While Masashi wanted to agree with her, a sharp pain deep in his gut told him otherwise. Something felt deeply wrong—a sensation that was only confirmed when Masashi looked around to see no one else in the museum but them. “Hitomi-san...how did we get here in the first place? I don’t recall leaving the school...”
Hitomi grabbed Masashi’s hand and squeezed. “Those details don’t matter. Come, let’s enjoy our date, unless...you’d rather leave.”
“Oh no, it’s not that!” Masashi assured her, not wanting to upset his friend. This was Hitomi’s first day of being able to see, and the shugenja was determined to make it a good one.
So the couple moved on to exhibits of armor and katanas, of banners used by clans that no longer existed. These didn’t hold much interest to Hitomi, who was more interested in the colorful designs of the porcelain and jade sculptures. She wanted to feel them—an old habit—but didn’t realize just how delicate centuries-old pottery could be. Masashi tried to stop her but before he could get close, the damage had been done.
*shatter*
The handle of the ancient tea kettle broke and the bottom fell out. Masashi gasped before looking around fearfully to see if anyone had noticed. No one had because there was no one else there. Letting out a sigh of relief, Masashi knelt down to pick up the shards of porcelain. With the proper spell, it was possible to meld the pieces back together with minimal signs of damage.
“Wait...it’s not even scratched,” Masashi blinked once and then twice as he couldn’t believe his eyes. The porcelain tea kettle was in perfect condition. “Am I going insane? Was this not broken just one second ago?!”
“Goodness, look over there Masa-kun! It’s the wardrobe of Lady Sakiko, the Lioness of the Golden Era! Those kimonos are so pretty!”
Masashi nodded and assured Hitomi that he would be right there, and that he just needed a moment to collect his thoughts. Looking over the exhibits—the shogi board, the kabuki clothes and the ancient tea kettles—it seemed as if each and every one held special appeal to him.
This entire museum seemed too perfectly suited for the shugenja. It brought his own lecture back to mind. “The spirit world shapes around the visitor’s own memories and desires...none of this is real, is it? I’m in the spirit world, and all of this is nothing more than an illusion!”
The walls began to rattle as Masashi started to run, to try and escape this museum that wasn’t real. Yet one hallway only ever led to several more. He was lost within a labyrinth of his own mind, seeing exhibits of paintings, bonsai trees and sculptures that he knew belonged to the Hashimoto family estate.
“Everything here is a projection of my own memories, of things I’ve seen or read about,” Masashi concluded, trying to make sense of the insensible. Though just as he did, a contradiction appeared in the form of an odd, wooden sculpture.
It was, upon closer inspection, a red panda. It was a baby one, and crudely made—the work of an amateur. It didn’t belong in this museum, which made it all the more interesting. Masashi felt a tremor of spiritual energy from inside it, with each step closer causing it to grow exponentially. The vibrations of energy became so great that it felt as the shugenja was amidst an earthquake just standing within arm’s reach.
“I’ve never seen you before. Could it be, are you…” Masashi reached out to touch it. It was solid and felt like wood, yet it was especially warm to the touch. He stroked the panda’s mane gently as if it were real. He smiled and wished that it was—red pandas were awfully cute.
Some wishes did come true, at least the spirit world. Light pierced from out of the sculpture’s eyes, breaking the wood like a baby bird through its egg. From within the wooden sculpture came a miniature red panda, which stretched out on its hind legs and tilted its head to give Masashi a curious look.
The kid’s dimples were showing as he beamed out a large smile. He had to struggle to resist the urge to hug it, out of fear of scaring it away. “You’re real, aren’t you little fellow? Could it be...are you my spirit animal?”
Masashi offered his hand to pet the little guy, but the furry critter took to his arm like a branch, climbing inside his kimono sleeve, tickling him all over before finding its way up his collar and perching on his shoulder.
“D-don’t get too familiar! Goodness,” Masashi said amidst a series of giggles. “I think I shall call you Pan-kun. Will that name suffice?”
Pan-kun affirmed the choice by licking Masashi’s cheek. He then jumped off, scurrying to the ground and beckoning him to follow. Just as the shugenja was about to, however, Hitomi arrived.
“What’s kept you, Masa-kun? I just got us tickets to a kabuki show! Oh, it shall be absolutely wondrous, don’t you agree?” Hitomi asked, wrapping her arm once more beneath Masashi’s.
“I, uh…”
“Let us hurry before it’s too late!” the once-blind girl pulled, determined to lead the way. Part of Masashi wanted to follow her, to go on a date that lasted forever. But deep down he knew that was wrong. This world was wrong.
“Masa-kun? Please, come with me,” Hitomi pulled, her voice cracking in a plea.
The young shugenja shook his head, and finally acted as mature as he appeared. With a sadness met with determination, Masashi made his next words clear. “I’m sorry. But I have to follow my spirit.”
He hurried off after Pan-kun, through one hallway into the next, all while the walls and floor tiles disappeared around him. As for the exhibits—they each made less sense the further he went in. The first was a tall, wooden device with a hole and a bucket at the bottom and giant blade overhead.
After that was a kabuki mask covered in shogi tiles, then a garden of red flowers being burned, and then finally: a duck sleeping upon the largest koi fish Masashi had ever seen! “These aren’t my memories...are they something else?”
The shugenja couldn’t make sense of it. He just kept on following Pan-kun, who finally stopped running in front of a familiar door: the door to the medical ward in the Academy. Somehow they had left the museum and returned to the school.
Bracing his courage, Masashi puffed out his cheeks and opened the door. What he saw was himself: he was resting atop a futon beside Hitomi, with a very concerned Hikiko and Fumihiro pacing around and arguing. The two were pleading for him to wake up.
“Hey, you two, I’m over here!” Masashi yelled out but to no avail. Inside this room was the physical world, he knew, and it was where he and Hitomi had to return to.
“Look at me,” said a voice from behind. It was Hitomi, though she was gesturing to her other self on the sickbed. “I’m covered in burns and bruises...what reason do I have to return to that life, Masashi? It is only filled with pain and darkness!”
“But you’ll die if you stay here!” Masashi exclaimed. “And what good is it to see if you live alone? Don’t you miss your friends?”
Hitomi wiped her tears with her sleeve, but they were falling too freely. So instead she put her head against Masashi’s chest and mumbled. “I have you, don’t I? Don’t you like being older and more mature? You’re a teacher...respected by all your students. Everyone listens to you.”
Masashi hugged Hitomi and patted her head, comforting her like a father would a daughter. “There, there. I don’t mind being underestimated because of how I look. It’s part of who I am. It’s not always easy, being different...but it sure beats being alone. I know I can make friends and be happy by just being myself. Do you understand, Hitomi-san?”
She didn’t reply with a yes or a no, but with a loud and lengthy sob that made Masashi’s red kimono grow damp. Even still, the teacher held the student tightly, allowing the fear and pain the time it needed to settle. Hitomi was born without the ability to see. To be able to give up such a gift, to return to blindness willingly, took a will beyond that of an ordinary shugenja.
“Alright, I’ll go back,” Hitomi sniffled, “but if you could indulge me just this once...would you accompany me to the Flower Arrangement Club, just one more time?”
Masashi nodded and smiled. Hitomi was far from ordinary.
■■■■
“You’re Masashi Hashimoto?” asked the captain of the Shinsengumi. “I was made to believe you were shorter, and favored red silk kimonos.”
Fumihiro laughed, a bit too loudly. “Oh, but the boy doth becomes a man! ‘Tis the beauty of such budding flowers that doth summons the bee,” the poet said, gesturing to a pair of female classmates that were pointing and laughing at him. “N-now then, I must say once more how great an honor it is to be the presence of the Shinsengumi. Why, your service—”
“I don’t care how good you are at magic kid, you talk too much,” remarked one of swordsmen. He, like the rest of them, wore a light blue kimono with white mountain trim. These were the elite of the elite: the Emperor’s personal task force. And they weren’t known for mincing words.
“You are familiar with a man by the name of Sadao Hamasaki, are you not? We have an urgent need to find out his whereabouts. We were told you imbued an item of magical power for him during a classroom competition. Have you any way of locating this item through magical means?”
Fumihiro scratched his chin. Item imbuing was far from his expertise, and if he recalled the competition correctly, he had spent most of his time in practice duels with the samurai his team was paired up with. Though he couldn’t quite recall the man’s name, he had a very good Jigen-ryū stance.
“I am afraid what you ask for is impossible, good sirs. But with that matter settled, perchance I may be granted a practice bout? You do not know how I’ve dreamt of crossing blades with—oh, you’re leaving…”
■■■■
Masashi and Hitomi sat side-by-side, amidst the itako’s carefully curated garden. The two took in the majestic sight of morning glories, lotuses, bellflowers and irises, roses, carnations, camellias and cherry blossoms, too. There was so much beauty to be had in the arrangements, that you never would’ve guessed that a blind girl had made them.
“They’re so pretty. I knew they were, but I never knew how brilliant colors could be. I’m glad they make others happy,” Hitomi said with a wistful sigh. She leaned up against Masashi and said that it was time.
“Are you certain? Is there nothing else you would like to see before we return? Perhaps—ah!”
Masashi shot out a gasp as Hitomi cupped the shugenja’s face in her hands. She stared into his eyes intensely, looking deeply into Masashi’s soul. She smiled at what she saw.
“You’re the last person I’ll ever see. That makes me very happy, Masa-kun. You really will grow up into quite the looker, hehe!”
Masashi blushed, not sure how to take such a compliment. He could only nod and begin the incantation to return, to send their consciousness and spirits back to the realm below: where there friends and the rest of Hyuga waited for them.
Just as the light was about to take them in, he saw Pan-kun waving goodbye. He waved back, at least until a large fowl flew in from the sky. It wasn’t a duck but a swan, though it was colored black instead of white. It spoke directly into Masashi’s mind.
“Study well and learn quickly, Hashimoto-san. For you do not have the luxury of time.”
Comments
Grey Warden
Ohh, I love the ending.
