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Side Story #6: Masami's Extracurricular Activity
🕑 Added 2018-12-07 18:16:16 +0000 UTC <Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1.>▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀▀
Side Story 6: Masami’s Extracurricular Activity
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■■ The Academy ■■
“...yes, thank you Hashimoto-san. The first division of the Noble Eightfold Path in Buddhism is Shoken—the Righteous View. As you explained in scholarly detail, it is the understanding that all actions have consequences and that death is not the end. Our stay in this world is temporary, and our spirits are sent to the realms of heaven or hell based upon our actions here. Any questions?”
When there weren’t any, Masami raised her hand once more. “In the supplemental material, it’s written that we shugenja access our magical powers from the spirit realm located between heaven and hell. Some monks have claimed to be able to enter this world through meditation. Has there ever been a case where—”
A bell rang from outside the room, and every student but Masami joined in on a collective sigh of relief. The teacher also seemed eager to avoid the girl’s line of questioning. “Class is dismissed! Hashimoto-san, I would like to have a word with you.”
Beads of sweat formed atop Masami’s brow. “Am I in trouble for answering too many questions?” She had tried to force the habit of waiting at least a few seconds before raising her hand, so as to give the other students a chance to respond. But more often than not, the young genius was too eager to wait long.
As the class filtered out, Masami did her best to ignore the sneers of the other students and pretend that she couldn’t hear their whispers. Winning the item-imbuing competition with Hikiko and Sadao last week earned her newfound respect among her classmates. But with that respect came jealousy, too. “I’ll never make friends this way!”
“How are you handling the material, Hashimoto-san? You seem to be...several chapters ahead of the rest of the class.” The instructor scratched his chin as Masami stumbled over a reply. The truth was that the young student had already finished this book as well as several others, though she admitted to far less. “As I thought. Hm, have you considered joining a club?”
“A...club, Sensei?” Masami had no idea what a wooden cudgel had to do with anything.
“Yes, an extracurricular activity would do well to round out your education here at the Academy! Our students enjoy and excel in the Arts of Battle, Refinement and Intellect. There are a total of nine clubs to choose from, all of which are located in the hall opposite of the residences. In fact...Hikiko-chan here will show you the clubs, and join one herself!”
Hikiko, the pasty white ghost of a girl, had tried and failed to sneak out of the classroom unnoticed. She winced at the sound of her own name, and grabbed at her lengthy hair to try and conceal her face. “I’m...already in a club, Sensei.”
“The ‘Sleep Until Dinner’ club doesn’t count! If Hashimoto-san can get you to go to class, perhaps she can get you to join a club as well. Consider this an assignment you do not wish to fail!”
Hikiko responded with a prolonged groan, before turning to give her younger classmate an even longer, vacant stare. The shadows beneath her sleep-deprived eyes seem to grow.
Masami put on a painful smile. “H-How bad can it be, Hikiko-chan?”
■■■■
*cough* *cough* *cough*
Opening the room to the Incense Appreciation Club had been a mistake. The two girls were met by a giant puff of smoke that smelled somewhere between moldy cheese and burning oak. They were quick to close the door, heaving in deep breaths to recover.
“Let’s...try the next one, Hikiko-chan,” Masami huffed. They weren’t off to a good start, but she was optimistic that she’d find a place to call her own. “Here! This sign says ‘shogi’—my favorite board game!”
Masami was beside herself with glee as she stood outside the Shogi Club’s door. The gentle clattering of wooden tiles awaited her, along with all the stimulating tactics, openings and endgames. “This is where I belong!” she thought to herself as she opened the door.
But as soon as she did, a pair of large men wearing nothing but loincloths came tumbling through. They barely made it through the doorway, barreling through and only stopping after slamming against the wall. Masami was paralyzed; were it not for Hikiko to pull her out of the way, the young shugenja-in-training would’ve been crushed under several hundred pounds of sumo fat.
“Hai! Your point, Kajinosuke!” One of the wrestlers laughed and smacked his stomach. Noticing the two students, he explained. “Shogi is canceled this week. The Sumo Club has this room for our tournament. You should stick around and watch me win! Hohoho!”
Masami and Hikiko watched on in stunned silence as the sumo wrestlers squeezed back through the door frame. Aside from her near-death experience, Masami was shocked that there were enough shugenja into sumo to form a club around it.
“I prefer my men in makeup and kabuki attire, not...loincloths,” Hikiko sighed. Masami replied with a nervous giggle, and the two of them went on to the next club. The sounds of clashing bamboo met their ears. If the sign was true, this would be the Kendo Club.
Masami’s favorite stories always had samurai in them, brave men whose loyalty to their lords was as unquestioned as their swordsmanship. Stalwart warriors, romantic and brave, defending what was right and rescuing damsels in distress. Oh, and they also fought dragons and demons too, of course.
Reality had a lot more to do with yelling and the smell of sweat. Instead of the flashy, silk kimonos Masami imagined, the students here wore large helmets with their faces caged behind iron bars. They wore large, bulgy and black padded armor that was nowhere near as ornate or interesting as what real samurai used.
Hikiko also wasn’t impressed. “Behold...sons of samurai who spend hours swinging their bamboo swords at each other. As if the military would ever put us priceless shugenja into the front lines. Wasted effort.”
“Who darest speak such words unkind in this sacred hall of martial combat?! Prithee, identify yourself at once!” A young man arrived to greet them, though he appeared far from welcoming. He was in training armor and carried his helmet in one hand and his bamboo training sword in the other. He had a powerful chin and wore his hair in a traditional chonmage—that was to say, he had the back half of his hair tied in a topknot and the front half shaved down.
He raised his hand to silence Masami just as she was about to answer him. “How rude of me for not having introduced myself first. Ahem.”
“I am Fumihiro of House Morita, a clan of renowned warriors and defenders of the Emperor. Martial matters aside, we’re also known for our poetics and koi fish gardens,” he grinned and squinted his eyes at Masami. “By your pardon, thy face familiar but thy name alludes.”
It took a moment for the shugenja to make sense of what the warrior-poet was saying, but once she did she gave a respectful bow. “My name is Masami Hashimoto. We’re in the same class, Fumihiro-senpai.”
“Oh, fortunes be that I should meet the daughter of Hashimoto this day. Our newest class member, for which I now…” Fumihiro’s words trailed off, as he spotted the girl lurking behind Masami. “Egads! What is that tall and gruesome shadow casted behind thee?! Begone, unsightly devil!”
Masami could feel the spiritual energy swell up from behind her. This had happened before, and so it was little surprise when Hikiko pulled out a talisman and pointed a wicked finger out in Fumihiro’s direction.
*speeeew*
The would-be samurai was nowhere near as agile as Sadao had been, resulting in a splash of sludgy, black ink all over his armor and practice sword. Fumihiro tripped backwards in a vain attempt to escape it. Now half his face was coated in ink. To add insult to injury, the rest of the Kendo Club started laughing at him.
“What wicked humor my fellows have! Har, har!” Fumihiro forced out a laugh. Masami handed him a handkerchief to help wipe off his face. “What a damnable cantrip...well-worthy the work of the witch known as Hikiko! A black stain upon an otherwise brilliant tapestry!”
Hikiko grabbed Masami by the sleeve and mumbled, “Let’s check out the other clubs, Panda-chan. Not worth wasting time with...Koi Fish-Boy.”
Masami bowed and apologized on Hikiko’s behalf, though the warrior-poet wasn’t so quick to forgive. Especially when the potential for blackmail presented itself. “The use of spellcraft outside classes is an expellable offense, and the Morita doth hold sway with ears above. Perhaps I may be inclined to forget this incident, for but a token fee.”
Hikiko paused and Masami gasped. The idea of losing her one and only friend was too much for the young shugenja to bear. So she pulled out her coin pouch—only a portion of the hefty allowance left to her by her family—and proceeded to pull out some coins. “I’ll pay the fee. How much ryō will it be, Fumihiro-senpai?”
The innocence of the young girl tugged at Fumihiro’s heartstrings tightly enough for him to buckle over. The rest of the Kendo Club glared at him. “No that’s...I shan’t require monetary compensation, Daughter of Hashimoto. Rather be, I would have thee tasked with the delivery of a letter. I heard you two were visiting clubs. Perchance you may visit the Flower Arrangement Club next?”
Masami took the letter Fumihiro handed out to her and gave it a good look. It was made of expensive paper, though stained in sweat and wrinkled for having it on him during sword practice. More importantly, it was addressed to someone. “Hitomi-senpai? Is this a...a…”
Masami couldn’t finish the sentence aloud. “...a love letter?! For me to hold such a thing—it’s so embarrassing!”
“A tiger in battle I may be, yet in the presence of such beauty I am but a kitten. Words do speak what the heart withholds. Her eyes enrapture the beholder, like clouded pearls of the forbidden clam.” Fumihiro clenched his fist and eyes, shaking the former with raw emotion. “Go forth, Daughter of Hashimoto, and deliver my heart’s confessions to the girl known as Hitomi-chan!”
■■■■
“I can’t believe we got roped into delivering Fumihiro’s poetry verses. How degrading,” Hikiko mumbled as she pulled her hair and as the two of them approached the door to the Flower Arrangement Club. Masami had always been fond of flowers, and found the meanings behind particular arrangements to be fascinating.
“He’s being very brave, putting his emotions into words! To admit one’s love is…” Masami shook her head, which had taken to a shade of red ever since she got the letter. “I’m sure Hitomi-senpai will be pleased when she reads them.”
Hikiko put on a knowing grin. “I highly doubt it.”
After a few passing moments to bolster her courage, Masami slid open the door. There was a jingle just as she did so. As for the room it was dark—not at all that different from Hikiko’s room, really. It seemed empty, which made the voice from within scare Masami even more.
“Greetings and welcome to the Flower Arrange Club! I am Hitomi-chan. Please forgive the darkness, Wisteria bloom best at night.”
Stepping inside, Masami’s eyes soon adjusted to the darkness. She could spot a young woman sitting alone amidst many flowers, who rose from her seiza—the traditional sitting position—to bow low and politely to her guests. Though she couldn’t make out details Masami knew at once that the girl was beautiful: she was dressed in shrine maiden attire, with a white haori tucked inside her red hakama pants.
She had an aura of elegance that was intensified by the beautiful, purple flowers that surrounded her. She seemed older, more mature than any other student Masami had seen. It was no surprise that Fumihiro was so taken by her.
Remembering her manners, Masami mimicked the bow and began to introduce herself. “Um, hello, my name is—”
“Oh, Hashimoto-san! We’re in the same class. I never got a chance to congratulate you for winning the competition last week. The Emperor sounded genuinely impressed. It was quite the commotion!”
“Arigato!” Masami bowed once more. She then turned to her fellow classmate, who had yet to step foot inside the room. “We tried our best, didn’t we?”
“Is there someone with you?” Hitomi asked.
Hikiko shrugged and reluctantly stepped inside. She had her arms crossed and didn’t look at all happy to be there. “Maybe.”
“Hikiko-chan. I haven’t heard your voice for some time. I...see that you are leaving your room these days,” Hitomi put a hand to her lips and giggled. “Have we Masami-chan to blame for that? Huhuhu.”
The witchy student didn’t voice a reply, instead she pulled down her eyelid and stuck out her tongue in a rude gesture. Hitomi seemed to pay it no mind. “She really is mature,” Masami thought to herself.
Remembering why she was there, Masami entered the garden and approached Hitomi, handing the love letter to her. After telling her who it was from, Masami watched as the older girl touched the envelop and felt around the corners, smiling as she did so. “May I have you read it for me?”
“M-me?! But...isn’t it private? It’d be embarrassing for me to read it!”
Only then did Hitomi open her eyes, and only then did Masami realize they had—until this moment—been closed. Fumihiro was right: her eyes looked like beautiful, clouded pearls. They were white and hazed over in a dull, faint glow.
“Unfortunately I am blind, Masami-chan.”
■■■■
“...but alas, I find this parchment filled. My rambles shalt be put to an end, for my quivering hand cannot keep still. I beseech thee, as humbly as a man in my station allows, that I might have you join me on the morrow to view the newly-opened art gallery in town. Though no man-made beauty compares to yours, please do consider and respond post-haste.”
Masami let out a gasp of air after she was done. She had never had to recite such a lengthy and wordy essay out before. It didn’t help that every other word was spoken in an old and outdated Hyugan tongue.
Hitomi, the subject of the paragraphs upon paragraphs of praise, brought a hand to her mouth and giggled. “Thank you, Masami-chan. I never knew you felt so strongly about me.”
“Na-nani?!” Masami proceeded to passionately deny it, her embarrassment peaking. The protesting only caused Hitomi to laugh some more.
“Still, it is much more pleasant to be serenaded by your voice over Fumihiro-kun’s. That boy...he does not seem aware that I am blind. I am, after all, an itako—a blind maiden. We are trained to master our spiritual connection, with the spirits and those who are deceased most of all.”
Hikiko replied with a grunt. “Talking to dead people...and they call me the creepy one. Just tell us your reply so we can shut Fumihiro up next time we see him.”
There was a long pause as the shrine maiden fell deep into thought. Her cheerful smile had inverted into a frown. She shook her head. “Please tell him that I am sorry but that I have already made arrangements for tomorrow. I’m sure he’ll understand.”
Masami was skeptical of that, judging from what little she knew of Fumihiro. Even so she was determined to deliver the message. Hitomi had great friendship potential, and reminded Masami of her older sister, besides. The young shugenja-in-training handed back the letter to Hitomi, though when their fingers touched Masami noticed the shrine maiden’s were ice cold.
“You’re hands are freezing! Are you sick, Hitomi-senpai? Do you want a warm towel?”
Hitomi was quick to pull her hands away. Her voice remained pleasant, though her words were terse. “No, I’m fine. Thank you for your visit. Now if you’ll excuse me I must continue to prune these perennials.”
■■■■
“Already made arrangements?! What vulgar man doth encroach upon my flower-of-flowers, my pearled-eyed maiden fair? Who seeks to steal the dame I hath confessed my adolescant love?!”
Masami winced as Fumihiro’s spittle flew out from his yell. He had, in his anger, lifted the Hashimoto heir up by the collar, shaking her as if that would provide further explanation. It made for quite the scene during breakfast in the mess hall.
*WHACK*
Hikiko came to Masami’s defense, conking the would-be samurai on the head with a freshly-emptied bowl of miso soup. Fumihiro released his grasp and proceeded to cradle his head as he was scolded. “Quit being so dramatic! So Hitomi is busy today. Find someone else to bother.”
Masami nodded. “I-I’m sure whatever is keeping her must be very important.”
Fumihiro brought his sleeve up across his eyes and began to sniffle. “How unbecoming of I, to take the rage my unrequited love doth birth upon you, Daughter of Hashimoto. Truly, ‘tis nobler to respect Lady Hitomi’s wishes.”
“Yep! Her business is her business,” Masami concluded as the trio resumed eating breakfast. It was a quiet and tense table, but the young shugenja was happy enough not to be eating alone. They were all sipping on green tea when a certain shrine maiden happened to walk by.
Hitomi was in a hurry, and was accompanied by a pair of older shrine maidens at either side of her. Masami, Hikiko and Fumihiro looked at each other in absolute silence. They all nodded in unison.
■■■■
“Ouch! Thou hip is crushing my leg! Adjust your position, witch!”
“Why’d you bring your bamboo stick, you idiot?”
“Shh! You two will give us away!” Masami shushed her fellow companions, all of which were crammed into some shrubbery overlooking a small, flat field in back of the Academy. It was tucked away and difficult to notice, making it all the more suspicious.
Aside from Hitomi and the other two shrine maidens, there was a Shinto priest in the clearing along with dozens of buckets. They were filled to the brim with water, and encircled a larger bucket fit for bathing. That one sat at the center on a raised platform.
“A ritual of sorts...though for what, pray tell? Mayhaps a—ah?!” Fumihiro’s whisper came out like a shout when Hitomi started to undress. Hikiko placed her hands over Fumihiro’s eyes as the boy’s nose began bleeding. Masami looked away as well out of consideration for her classmate.
Looking again, Masami saw that Hitomi wasn’t naked but was in her undergarments, and was sitting inside the large bucket as if to take a bath. The shrine maidens on either side of her began pouring out the buckets.
Seeing the girl wince and hold back a cry, Masami realized that the water was far from lukewarm. There were shards of ice in there! “So this is why your hands were so cold, Hitomi-senpai! What terrible ritual is this?”
“They’re preparing for a séance,” Hikiko whispered as if reading her mind. “Hitomi is an itako. She’s going to speak to the dead.”
The sounds of a dozen footsteps foretold the arrival of a group of men with katanas and white kimonos. The leader of them was a short, pudgy and ugly woman with brown hair. The backs of their haori jackets bore the emblem of two swallows kissing with their wings outstretched.
Fumihiro scratched his chin. “Uesugi samurai...what business have Northerners with Lady Hitomi?”
The priest outstretched his hands and welcomed the samurai as the maidens continued to submerge Hitomi. “Greetings and good tidings, samurai of the North. The service is about to begin. Is the offering prepared?”
The fat samurai grumbled while fiddling with her belt. She loosened up a pouch full of coins and tossed it over to the priest. It scattered at the holy man’s feet. “A generous donation and then some, priest! Now tell me of the words my father, the great Lord Uesugi, has to say! I would have him come down from the heavens above if only for a moment. What wisdom does he have to impart on his one true daughter and heir?”
“She wants to talk to her deceased father...Hitomi’s job is really important,” Masami concluded as she watched on. Though she watched with increasing unease, as the chanting began and the skies above began to darken with clouds. A sudden rainstorm started to pour as the shrine maidens chanted louder and louder, pushing and holding Hitomi down beneath the water.
Fumihiro was restless and ready to rush down to save her, and to be honest Masami wouldn’t be far behind. But of the three of them Hikiko remained calm. “Keep still. Hitomi knows what she’s doing. Watch.”
There was silence and more silence as the trio as well as the samurai began to grow restless. Masami didn’t know how long Hitomi could hold her breath, but every passing second felt like a minute. Thunder and lightning began to build, far away at first but clamoring and striking closer each and every time.
After the chanting had finished, the priest spoke to Hitomi though addressed her by a different name. “Arise and speak, Lord Uesugi, true ruler of the North! Come down to us from your rightful, heavenly seat and join us—join your beloved daughter once more!”
Something was wrong. Hitomi’s body began to shake, the water inside her bucket starting to boil and steam. The shrine maidens holding her down released her along with cries of pain as their hands and arms seared from heat. The priest presiding over the ritual stepped back, his face contorted with fear.
“What’s wrong?” said the leader of the Uesugi. “Is this supposed to happen? Is my father in anguish or pain? Tell me!”
When the chubby samurai didn’t get an answer she rushed over to the bucket. Just as she arrived, Hitomi stood up from her bath, or rather, she was pulled up by some unseen force. Her eyes shot open and her voice contorted into something raw and inhuman. She spoke in a pitch far lower than any girl was capable of.
“WHo dAReS SUMmoN ME?”
“I-it is I, Father. Your daughter, Junko! There is so much I wish to speak to you about. I’m so pleased to have this chance to talk to the man I hold so dear.” The samurai began to sniffle, her eyes watering up.
Hitomi looked at the samurai for a long moment. Then her whole body started to contort, her bones cracking as she did so. “YoU? My JUnKO? BwhAhAAHAHAha!”
The laughter continued and echoed, as if the world was inside a cavern. It cut through the ears and rang inside the skulls of all who listened, and seemed to go on for hours more. Only when it quieted did the daughter dare to speak.
“F-father...Lord Uesugi, is there anything you wish say?”
“YES. I pRefER HeLL tO THis SiGHT beFORE mE.”
And then the skies opened, the clouds parted and took the rain and thunder with them. Hitomi fell backwards with a loud splash, and the world seemed to return anew. Everyone was stunned, dumbfounded by what had just occurred.
“That was...this is...a mockery! Untrue and unreal! A shugenja trick—and one in poor taste at that!” The fat samurai snatched the pouch of coins from the priest. “I would cut you down for this farce were it not for your ties to the Academy! Remember this!”
The leader of the Uesugi punched the priest across the face, grasped her hand in pain, and hurried off with the rest of the samurai in tow.
“Hitomi-chan!” Masami yelled and the trio of students hurried over to check on their friend. It was worse then they feared: the young shrine maiden’s eyes were closed, her body covered in burns and her arms bent in ways they shouldn’t bend. “Please! Please be okay, Hitomi!”
■■■■
The three students paced about outside the medical ward, each waiting impatiently as the Academy’s nurse attended to Hitomi. Fumihiro spent the time punching the walls while Hikiko—who was usually stoic—wiped tears from her eyes. As for Masami, she was deep in prayer.
When the nurse slid open the door she was assaulted by their questions. A professional, the older woman raised her hand and went over what she knew. Masami noticed that her voice cracked as she did so. “Hitomi-chan has suffered several burns across her legs, arms and chest. Her left arm is broken as are several fingers in her right hand. I suspect she has several broken ribs as well.”
That sounded terrible and horrendous, though not fatal enough to warrant such a somber tone. Masami feared there was something more. And her fears were confirmed.
“Unfortunately...it seems as if she has fallen into a coma.”
Fumihiro shook his head along with the rest of him. “A coma?! What terminology is this?!”
“Her spirit has separated from her body,” Hikiko explained between sniffles. She placed her hands to her face and sobbed. “This is bad.”
Unable to eat and drink, a body separated from its spirit became a breathing corpse that slowly faded away. Masami knew that much from her books, but to have it happen in reality was too much. The young shugenja-in-training fought back tears as she rushed into the medical ward.
“You shouldn’t go in there!” the nurse yelled behind her.
Hitomi’s futon was beside the window. The girl was covered in bandages, heaving slow and painful breaths. The smell of boiled flesh was pungent and unfitting for a girl who spent most of her time around flowers.
Fumihiro stood beside Masami, peering down at their classmate with watery eyes. “That so innocent a maiden be so defaced, possessed by evils unbelonging to this realm...how wicked can this life be, Lady Hitomi?”
Hikiko stood opposite of Masami, holding the shrine maiden’s hand in hers. “Hitomi is an itako...to commune with spirits has always been her fate. I didn’t like her...I was jealous, but…” Hikiko’s voice quieted as she tried not to cry. “No one should have to wander around in the world of spirits. I hear it is a vast and lonely place.”
It was then that Masami’s eyes caught glimpse of something on the nightstand beside Hitomi. It was a flower arrangement, with the purple Wisteria that Hitomi had toiled about in the darkness to grow. The young shugenja-in-training’s tears ceased. She imagined being alone and scared, being away from her friends and family—everyone who loved her.
Masami clenched her fists and blew up her cheeks in a pout. “I’m not going to let Hitomi-chan wander alone. I’m going to find her.”
“I’m going to the spirit world.”
■■■■
