Side Story #27: Masashi's Graduation

<Author’s note: This story takes place before the events of Book 1. It offers some insights into characters from Book 5. Keep this in mind if you want to avoid all potential spoilers!>

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Side Story 27: Masashi’s Graduation

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■■ The Seijirō Museum of Fine Arts ■■

“Oh, cruel master of fate, how hath I wrong thee to be cursed so? I am undone, bound to this witch in place of my pearly-eyed maiden! Forsooth, what—”

Fumihiro’s lamentations were silenced by an elbow to the gut courtesy of Hikiko. The dark, drab and dour shugenja was assigned to be the kendo captain’s off-campus partner. So long as they were off Academy grounds, they had to be tied together with string. Several feet of it was raised taut between their wrists as the two fussed and bickered.

“Urusai! This field trip. Already painful enough. Should’ve gone to the kabuki theater.”

Students were rarely permitted outside of the Academy due to security reasons: abductions of the magically-gifted students were not uncommon. The exception to this was during class outings such as this one the local art gallery. Though it was far more than that now after its recent endowment courtesy of His Imperial Majesty. It had been renamed the ‘Seijirō Museum of Fine Arts’ at the Emperor’s request in honor of his father.

But the recent endowment wasn’t why they were there. The reason had to do with the graduation ceremony: at the end of every season—this one’s being spring—a select group of students, thoroughly tested and vetted for their magical abilities, were made to undergo a special ceremony. Though the ritual itself was mostly unknown, it required special preparations at the school, forcing the rest of the student body outside.

And so the class was assigned partners at random. Some pairings were more...favorable than others.

“Oh, Masa-kun! I’d love to check out the pottery display next!” said Hitomi with glee. She was an itako: a blind shrine maiden with the ability to commune with the dead. She was also a few years older than her partner and over a foot taller, looking like an overly-affectionate older sister. 

“Ah, s-sure. But there’s no reason to cling to me so tightly, you know,” Masashi said, his face growing crimson. The younger shugenja guided his partner from exhibit to exhibit, much like their ‘date’ in the spirit world. The only difference was that there were other people around—including their classmates—and so it was many times more embarrassing.

Though most of the exhibits couldn’t be touched, Masashi did his best to explain what they looked like in detail. He also read the placards and labels aloud. Hitomi listened intently all the while, letting her imagination go wild. Of course, not but a few weeks ago she hadn’t needed an imagination at all: in the spirit world, she had been able to see the gallery with her own two eyes.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it Masa-kun? Though the exhibits aren’t as they were before, the halls and the layout of this building are exactly the same!”

Hitomi made a good point that Masashi hadn’t considered. While there wasn’t an ancient shogi board, kabuki outfits or an odd wooden device with a giant blade raised overhead, everything else about the gallery was the same as it had been in the spirit world.

“...yet neither of us had ever visited the gallery prior,” Masashi thought aloud. “That means the spirit world must be more than just a reflection of our own thoughts and experiences. It’s more than just a dream...almost like an alternate reality…”

“You look so cute when you’re deep in thought like that,” Hitomi teased. Of course, she couldn’t see Masashi but that didn’t stop the younger shugenja from going flush all the same. It was a relief when they met up with Fumihiro and Hikiko—the former all but dragging the latter.

“Lady Hitomi, Son of Hashimoto: perchance the two of you would accompany us to a new exhibit?” Fumihiro asked, bowing—or at least trying to, tied up as he was. “We’ve still a moment ‘afore the seminar.”

The group agreed, wanting to observe as many exhibits as they could. The seminar was to be a classwide meditation session with a guest lecturer: a spiritual guru from the Suijin Mountains. While it was likely to be as exciting as it sounded, Hikiko was uncharacteristically optimistic.

“A monk from Suijin. Isolated from the world. Training above the clouds. Probably strong and dreamy. Like the villain in Tsuchi Gumo,” Hikiko said, referencing a popular theater play. If Masashi recalled correctly, that one was about a monk who was actually a spider demon in disguise, who killed his liege lord only to be hunted down and slain in his lair later.

The fact that Hikiko found such a villain dreamy...wasn’t much of a surprise, really.

What was a surprise was the new exhibit; the sight of it caused Masashi to gasp and rush forward, pushing through his friends and dragging Hitomi behind. For what he saw behind a glass container was familiar: a wooden sculpture of a red panda. It looked almost identical to the one he had seen in his trip to this gallery before. That one that had turned into Pan-kun, his spirit animal!

Masashi said as much to his friends, each of which had their own reaction.

“Hm...indeed, ‘tis peculiar,” Fumihiro said, scratching his chin while inspecting the sculpture. “The craftsmanship is...hardly remarkable, and this plaque here says nothing—save that it is from an anonymous artist. Methinks this exhibit is misplaced!”

“Look closer,” Hikiko said, pointing. “In its mouth. Holding a small bell. Looks familiar. Can’t remember where it’s from, though.”

Each of them—save for Hitomi—placed their faces up against the glass to see clearer but none of them could make out the details before the teacher yelled at them to head over to the seminar. Though Masashi was reluctant to leave Pan-kun behind, he was more resolved than ever before.

“This has to be a sign, I know it! Reuniting with you, Pan-kun, and finding out whatever is behind that strange door...that must be what the black swan was talking about! I can’t waste anymore time!”

Speaking of wasting time, the entire class did just that as they sat in a circle around a mummified old man. It was a rather macabre display, Masashi thought, hardly eliciting the comforting atmosphere required for deep meditation. Of course, meditation was a daily requirement for every shugenja...even if many just used it as naptime.

One minute passed and then several more all while the shugenja grew more and more restless. They were beginning to think their guest lecturer wouldn’t arrive until the mummified man opened his eyes.

After the resulting screams and commotion died down, he spoke.

“Sokushinbutsu is the practice of preserving oneself to enter mummification while still in the realm of the living,” he said, his voice dry. His face had so many wrinkles that it was hard to tell when his mouth was actually open. It didn’t help that he hardly spoke above a whisper. “Practitioners such as I consume nothing but pine needles and drink only rainwater from the heavens above. It is—huACK, haK, huk!”

Fumihiro turned towards his partner as the dry heaving continued. “Quite the strapping monk indeed, Hikiko. Mayhaps he’ll give you an autograph after the seminar!”

The joke earned him a second elbow to the gut, this one powerful enough to send him buckling over. Hitomi let out a polite giggle while Masashi remained focused on the monk. If anyone knew about spirit animals and entering the spirit realm—it had to be him.

The group meditation session began shortly thereafter, with everyone humming in unison albeit offkey. Like everything else he did, Fumihiro over-embellished his chants while Hikiko forgoed hers altogether. Eventually the monk—whose name was Tenkai—grew frustrated and told them all to quiet.

Nearing the end of the seminar, he allowed the students to ask questions. Masashi’s hand shot up immediately, the young shugenja having waited for this moment for the past hour.

“In our studies,” Masashi started, “we are told that the spirit world is a reflection of our own memories, as well as what we’ve seen and heard about. But is it really just a projection of our imagination...or is it something more defined?”

The mummified monk creaked his eyes open a little wider. Though by appearances he was all but deceased, his eyes were as clear as crystal and betrayed a stark intellect. He mused over the question a little longer before giving his response.

“Imagination is thought given life. The spirit world is the collective imagination from all of life’s creation. The viewer distorts their reality just as they do in this world. The perspective of an emperor and an orphan...are hardly one and the same! Though the same elements may exist in both of their worlds, they will have very different experiences. Only a still mind, free of doubt and worldly desires, may have any hope of glimpsing either world as they truly are.”

“And our spirit animals,” Masashi continued, “we’re told that they are the embodiment of our past reincarnations in spiritual form...but is it possible that they can enter this realm, as well?”

As for a reply, the monk Tenkai went into a lengthy coughing fit—long enough for the teacher to put an end to the questioning. The seminar was over and a new project was assigned: they were each tasked with giving presentations on their spirit animal by the end of the week.

After the shugenja groaned in dismay, they were let out from the chamber and back to the school. Masashi trailed behind, desperate to know more from Tenkai. The teacher all but pushed him out—but not before the mummified monk could utter his parting words.

“Tread carefully but in the absence of fear, young one. Above all else...keep your goal in front of you.”

■■■■

Three days had passed since that seminar at the museum. The four shugenja were eating lunch in Hikiko’s Flower Arrangement clubroom. Usually this wasn’t permitted, but as the cafeteria was still off-limits due to the ceremony, they had special permission. The group found that eating among the camellias, violets and cherry blossoms made even the most bland miso soup enjoyable.

“Masashi-kun. You look sleepy. Unlike you,” Hikiko said, brief as usual. “Something wrong?”

Masashi shook his head to deny it, but soon Fumihiro was on his case as well.

“Come to think of it...you raised your hand for but three-quarters of the questions in class this morning. Usually you do so for all of them,” the kendo captain recalled. “Mayhaps you have been stricken with illness?”

Hitomi placed a hand on Masashi’s forehead causing the younger shugenja to go red—though not with fever. “You feel fine to me...but there have been odd noises from out of the cafeteria lately. Could it be that they are disturbing your sleep, Masashi-kun?”

Masashi assured them that everything was fine and that he was up late doing research for his spirit animal. It wasn’t technically a lie. Luckily, the topic of tomorrow’s presentation shifted the conversation. Fumihiro was quick to boast as usual.

“I shall be presenting far more than a mere report on my spirit animal, the magnificent koi! Prepare thyselves, as all shall soon behold the majesty of my great-great grandfather: Yusuke Morita!”

Hikiko replied with an exaggerated yawn. “Sounds boring. This presentation is dumb.”

“Oh, Hikiko-chan, your spirit animal is the octopus, correct? Perhaps that’s why you’re so talented in spewing ink?” Hitomi asked with a giggle. The itako got no reply aside from a glare that was so menacing even the blind could see it.

Usually, it was Masashi’s job to intermediate between them—though today he wasn’t up for it. Trying to enter the spirit world these past three nights had been as exhausting as it had been futile: no matter how determined he was to see Pan-kun again, he couldn’t make any progress. It had been so easy to do so before, when he went in to rescue Hitomi, yet now it seemed impossible.

“Masashi-kun. You sure you’re okay? Bell for afternoon classes rang,” Hikiko said, placing a hand on the shugenja’s shoulder and shaking him softly. “Not been yourself. Not since you spoke to that monk, earlier.”

“A monk? Oh, that’s right! I’ll be fine, Hikiko-chan. I’ll join you in class soon...I just have to get something from my room, first!” Masashi said in a rare lie. He excused himself and ran off—though not to his quarters. He instead went down one unused corridor to the next, Tenkai’s parting words repeating inside his mind.

“Tread carefully but in the absence of fear, young one. Above all else...keep your goal in front of you.”

To enter the spirit world required profound willpower and determination—but even that wasn’t enough, it turned out. Perhaps most importantly, there had to be a compelling reason to go there in the first place. Before it was to rescue Hitomi-chan. Now, it was to…

“...to find out what secrets you’re hiding,” Masashi said aloud, facing the mysterious door he had found earlier. Pan-kun had led him to it before for a reason, Masashi knew, even if he hadn’t the slightest idea why. Though it wasn’t just the red panda that came to mind as the shugenja sat down in a traditional seiza.

It was a swan as well. A black one, who had spoken to him in the spirit realm so clearly that he could hear it within his mind even now. “Study well and learn quickly, Hashimoto-san. For you do not have the luxury of time.”

Masashi focused on his breathing, trying desperately to slow down the beat of his racing heart. He knew he wasn’t supposed to be here, and that the talismans on the door emitted a powerful, dreadful ward, but he couldn’t let fear cloud his thoughts. Skipping class and ruining his perfect attendance record would’ve been enough for him to deter him before, but no longer.

Because being a perfect student wasn’t enough. As much as he enjoyed his stay at the Academy and the friendships he had made here, Masashi couldn’t help but wonder if there was something more out there. A restlessness had grown within him, and whether it was for a person or a purpose, he found his spirit pushing him forward.

And that push, right now, was enough to send him to another world.

■■■■

“Hnnng, uah!” Masashi grunted, trying to slide open the door. He was in the spirit realm—or at least, he had grown a couple feet taller—which was exciting all its own. Though aside from the hallways looking smaller due to his size, the Academy mostly remained the same.

And that included this blasted door. No amount of pounding, kicking and asking nicely was enough for it to move. He had even attempted to stare it down and ‘will’ it open with his mind. All he got was a headache for his trouble. Though the talismans that once decorated it were gone, in their place was a thin, bluish gauze that ran both across the door and to the walls on either side. It rippled ever so slightly to Masashi’s touch, but remained firm.

“It’s a barrier...it has to be,” Masashi concluded. Barriers were a type of magic found only on scrolls depicting myths; they were scarcely even mentioned in their textbooks. According to the course material, creating such a permanent ward that worked both in the physical realm and the spiritual one ought to have been impossible.

Turned out that not everything was covered in the course curriculum.

With all the noise he was making, Masashi had gotten the attention of a spectator: a cute and tiny one with red fur, white ears and a striped tail.

“Pan-kun!” the shugenja shouted, scaring it off. He quickly apologized—though the gesture was wasted—and pursued it down the hall. Masashi wanted to hold it and pet it, but more than that, he hoped to speak to it. If the swan could talk then surely the panda could, too!

The hall ended at the wing of the school where all the classrooms were. Masashi noted that classes must’ve recently ended, with students chatting about in the halls in their semi-ethereal forms. He saw some inconsistencies, too, but it wasn’t until he saw Hikiko that his pace slowed to a stop.

The usually dark and drab shugenja with disheveled hair down her waist wore a flashy kimono of pink and orange, with her hair tied up in elaborate braids with an ivory hairpin just like the one Masashi wore. She was at the center of a large group of students, giggling and chatting like she was the most popular girl in school.

Further down the hall towards the clubrooms, Masashi was assaulted by the sweet and piney scent of turpentine. While he assumed it was from the Incense Appreciation Club, the source turned out to be Hitomi’s club, instead.

And instead of arranging flowers, the once-blind shrine maiden was busy painting a subject that stood on a pedestal before her. Masashi nearly had a heart attack as he realized the model was himself: or at least, a very flattering and older version of him—posing on the stone podium. He looked nearly identical to his current spiritual form. 

The difference being that one modeling was stark naked.

Masashi let out an eep before closing the door and going beat red from embarrassment. He continued hot on the trail of Pan-kun who had entered through another clubroom: the kendo club’s, if Masashi recalled correctly.

And he didn’t—or at least, what was once a training hall for swordsmanship had been replaced by a dimly-lit library. There was just enough light to make out the frail figure hunched inside.

The lone student resembled Fumihiro and was muttering to himself over and over. It wasn’t lengthy poetry, but a single name: “Noriko...Noriko...Noriko…”

It was a sad and pathetic sight so unlike the boisterous young man Masashi knew. Before the shugenja could reach out to touch him, he vanished, leaving only dust behind. Pan-kun sniffed around the floor before heading out once more—this time to the cafeteria.

“What I’ve just witnessed...could these be the true reflections of my friends? The parts of themselves that they keep locked away and hidden?”

Masashi didn’t know for sure. Soon, he was certain of nothing at all, for as he and Pan-kun approached the Academy’s mess hall, screams began to echo throughout the walls. They were accompanied by the ringing of a small bell whose chime sent shivers down Masashi’s spine. A pressure bore down upon the shugenja’s shoulders as well, making each step more difficult than the last.

There was something evil up ahead. Every bone in his body and voice in his head told him as much, though he ignored it all as he continued to follow Pan-kun. The red panda showed no concern nor hesitation, pausing only to sniff the barred-off entryway to the cafeteria.

After it was thoroughly satisfied by its scent, it jumped right through.

“T-that’s right. In the spirit realm, walls can be passed through. Those that aren’t warded, anyway,” Masashi thought to himself. Though that was the theory, in practice it was far more difficult: he had to truly believe his hand could pass through the barricade before it did.

It took a few tense moments to gather his courage—especially upon hearing the screams inside—but Masashi collected it all the same, plunging himself through even if he had to do so with his eyes closed.

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t believe them: the tables, chairs and kitchens were all gone, along with many of the floor panels, too, to make room for a gigantic tree that came forth from the depths below. It was ancient and alive, and most of all it was animated: its giant roots twisted and spread across the walls and ceiling.

A muffled noise came from inside a pod raised up beside Masashi. The shugenja noted that there seven of such pods in total: giant seeds encased in roots and leaking what seemed to be sap.

He didn’t have time to inspect further before a figure emerged from the dark depths below. It was not a man, an animal, or any being Masashi had seen before. It was small and freakish with a pale white body that lacked all definition and features—save for its eyes and mouth that were black, empty voids.

It didn’t walk so much as it floated and hopped about the room, dancing as it hummed in a hollow, creeping tone. Masashi was frozen in fright and would’ve remained that way had the sight of Pan-kun not urged him to move. He quickly—and silently—darted over to the spirit animal’s side behind an upturned table.

He held the red panda tightly to keep it safe. Or at least that was what he told himself as he mentally ran through each and every prayer for protection he knew. Though Masashi didn’t know why he was so convinced, he knew that this thing wasn’t just some figment of his imagination. It wasn’t just a monster from a ghost story, either.

It was a demon. And it was real.

*ring* *ring* *ring*

The creature shook a bell beside one of the pods—though how it held it without any fingers let alone an opposable thumb was a mystery Masashi would never solve. The shugenja recognized the bell to be the same shape and design as the one in the museum earlier. Ringing it seemed to activate something within the pods.

While the pods shook amidst a magical vibration, the roots clenched tighter around them, squeezing whatever was inside. The sap flowed out as it did so, its juices glistening and flowing down the sides of the pods.

It was then that the demon’s humming stopped. It spoke in a language that neither Masashi nor any Hyugan in this era had ever heard.

“Diht lama crop þes mæl...áþwítan.”

The words ran laps around Masashi’s mind as he was unable to follow them. It almost sounded like a spell; the shugenja was certainly entranced by one. Only the nuzzling of Pan-kun against his neck brought him from out of his daze. By that time, the pale figure had vanished—leaving its bell behind on a table.

“I need that bell, don’t I, Pan-kun?” Masashi asked inside his mind and swore that he saw the panda nod. Finding his courage, he darted over from one pod to another, ignoring the sap sticking to his sandals. He reached out and grabbed the bell, careful to hold the clapper inside so as not to alert the monster. He darted out as quickly and as quietly as he could into a nearby wall, not stopping until he was back by the classrooms.

He panted heavily until he remembered that he was in the spirit world: where tiredness shouldn’t exist in an immaterial form. Suddenly rejuvenated, he went back to the mysterious door from before—the one secured by a powerful barrier. With Pan-kun on his shoulder, he took in a deep breath and rang the bell.

*ring* *ring*

Though the sound was rather weak, its effect on the ward was anything but. The ripples through the faint blue barrier started small though quickly became violent, like an ocean amidst a typhoon. The waves clashed against themselves before dissolving into nothingness. When there was no sign of the barrier left, Masashi looked at Pan-kun who nodded once more.

“Time to find out what secrets are behind this door,” the shugenja said, sliding the shoji door open.

The air that flooded out from it was as stale as an ancient crypt’s—as if it hadn’t been opened for centuries. The insides seemed to confirm it with a thick layer of dust coating a bare dirt floor. There was a pit at the center for a fire and large columns made from gnarled logs all around.

“Just how old is this place? And who’s memories are held here?” Masashi asked aloud. He kept wondering until Pan-kun came upon a pile of hay and started chirping, wagging its tail as a dog would before jumping inside. “At least one of us is having fun. How I wish I could be as carefree as you, Pan-kun!”

There was something beneath the hay that caught the shugenja’s attention, and before long he was on his knees beside his spirit animal digging at the pile to find out what it was. It turned out to be a bronze chest that had long since turned green. With more than little hesitance, Masashi opened it and peered inside.

He found a stack of papers that were remarkably white and showed no signs of age. The ink used was fresh and the writing was modern. But that didn’t make the words any easier for Masashi to read, for what they said was beyond believable.

“These names...these are the upperclassmen! This season’s graduates!” he gasped, reading over a chart with their names as well as their height, weight, age, and even what type of blood they had. Masashi didn’t even know there were different types of blood!

Not only that, there were columns for their magical proficiencies, their academic scores as well as their potentials, too: a measure of how much spiritual energy they had at their command. The last column at the end was labeled ‘harvest value’—whatever that meant.

Masashi quickly flipped through the pages until he got to his class and saw their names and numbers. His own name was underlined and circled in red, the potential score left blank. In the field at the end, beneath the column for harvest value, was…

“...extraordinary, aren’t you, Hashimoto-kun?” said a voice from behind him. “You never fail to impress me. But don’t you think it’s time you...woke up from this dream?”

Before Masashi could turn around to see who it was, his vision faded to black and his consciousness leaped from out of him.

■■■■

He awoke the next morning on his futon in his room. Why wouldn’t he? Masashi had just had the strangest and most vivid dream he could ever recall, though even doing that much was becoming a difficult task. Pan-kun was in it, he was pretty sure, as well as a giant tree beneath the cafeteria...there was a bronze chest and a distinct ringing noise as well.

The only ringing now was from the sound of the morning bell for classes to start. Masashi shot up from his bed and quickly got dressed: he had overslept! While it was true he hadn’t been sleeping well lately, today was presentation day.

“Oh, how I despise public speaking! And now I’ll have to do so on an empty stomach,” the shugenja complained as his stomach growled. He grabbed his books and rushed over to class, racing alongside the usually delinquent students. Hikiko was among them, dragging herself with little to no pace at all, while Fumihiro wasn’t far ahead. He was pushing a sizable utility cart, accompanied by a pair of samurai wearing jackets with the Maori clan crest on them.

As for what was on the cart and inside a giant bowl hidden beneath a tablecloth, Masashi was soon to find out as Fumihiro was the first to presentate. The self-acclaimed warrior poet got up to the podium and started as soon class began, going into an elaborate speech he had memorized days prior.

“Delivered to us this day, from its residence in Yamato at the esteemed Sleeping Duck inn, I present to you...my spirit animal! The majestic koi fish—behold it’s beauty!” Fumihiro yelled, removing the tablecloth with dramatic flair. Beneath it was a giant koi of at least twenty pounds, colored white with beautiful red splotches. It was indeed majestic, but…

“Is it dead?” one of the students asked. A dozen others giggled.

“I-It is merely sleeping!” Fumihiro said, poking the glass. “At...at any rate, this koi is over a hundred years old! It retains within it the very spirit of my father’s, father’s father, Yosuke Morita!”

It was as if speaking his ancestor’s name summoned life into the fish, who roused from its sleep and slammed against the confines of its bowl. Fumihiro started howling in glee...before doing so in terror as the giant koi leaped from out of its bowl, flopping directly towards the class. Chaos ensued as students desperately tried to avoid the flailing fish while Fumihiro and the samurai hurried to chase it down.

Hikiko was beside herself with amusement, cackling in the corner—at least until the fish made way towards her direction. A force of twenty pounds and then some slammed her into the wall, knocking the wind from out of her. The samurai caught the ancestral fish shortly thereafter, though it took far longer for the class to calm down.

That much excitement so early in the morning was just what Masashi needed to recover from his fatigue. And though he was fully awake, he couldn’t help but think that he was missing something. That he had forgotten something vitally important.

He shook off the feeling because he had too: he was the next to give a presentation. With unsteady footsteps due to nerves and puddles of water, he made his way to the podium. When he got there and glanced down at the papers he had written about the red panda, he could only see a blur.

Everything was blurry, and the awkward silence only embarrassed his further. Soon the students began to whisper and chuckle, all while the shugenja fumbled over his words.

“The red panda, its habitat is...their diet consists of…” he trailed off into murmurs. Masashi was beset with a sudden headache that pounded upon the sight of each of his classmates. This continued as he looked about the room, until he glanced down to his own desk at the front row.

For sitting on his chair curled up into a ball, was Pan-kun.

“Hashimoto-san? Is everything all right?” the teacher asked. It was a question soon everyone would be asking as the shugenja slumped down over the podium. Masashi shook his head and asked to be excused, but was halfway out the door before he got an answer.

There was no time for presentations, not when he heard a ringing bell down the hall. He had remembered everything.

“The graduates...they’re in danger!” Masashi thought and Pan-kun nodded, jumping upon the shugenja’s shoulder as he sprinted over towards the cafeteria. He stopped by his room to fill up a sack with his belongings: ink, ryō and paper, too, hastifully scribbling down a pair of spells before reaching the barricade.

“Am I doing the right thing, Pan-kun? I could get expelled for this!” Masashi asked his partner who replied with a nip and a nuzzle against his neck. That was all the confirmation he needed as he placed a talisman on either side of the wooden wall.

He clapped and whispered a chant to activate them, forcing his hands together tightly as the talismans pressed inward against each other with tremendous force. The wood between them cracked and buckled, breaking down as splinters flew every which way. Masashi continued his chant even as shards of wood flew and cut across his cheeks and forehead, not stopping until there was a hole large enough for him to get through.

Pan-kun had already gone ahead. The sight inside—which should’ve been different from the spirit world—was mostly the same: a giant, overgrown tree poked out from beneath the floor, it’s roots like vines now consuming the entire room. The large pods hanging from the ceiling were now shriveled husks discarded on the floor with large, gaping cavities from within them.

“No...no! I’m too late?!” Masashi gasped and then cried, gazing upon the open-eyed stare from one of his upperclassmen. A graduate student—a young man—once filled with ambition of a life serving Hyuga and his Emperor, now laid pruned like a raisin.

The voice from before echoed from the depths below, pounding through Masashi’s mind like a drum.

“Hwa durran heg sé bedríp?”

The small, pale monstrosity floated from out of the tree, hovering about with its black, voided eyes staring deep in Masashi’s soul. The pressure he felt across his body, mind and spirit was immense, powerful enough to crush him from the inside out.

“I don’t know...what you are, but...I won’t let you hurt anyone else! I won’t let you hurt my friends!” Masashi shouted, his voice seeming to take physical form via a powerful wind, sending the floating demon spiraling away. It wasn’t long before its dance continued, however, as it picked up its bell and started ringing it.

What looked to be large, green leaves spiraled around the demon as its dance continued. Each had a white, glowing inscription on it—though they were moving too quickly for Masashi to read. After one final ring, the leaves shot out and flew about the room. Masashi closed his eyes and braced for an attack. But what happened next was something much worse.

To the young shugenja’s horror, the corpses of his upperclassman began to shamble and shake. They rose to their feet not as people but walking husks! Their shriveled masses, dead eyes and sunken faces were in various stages of decomposing—and they each bore a stench to match.

They let out deathly groans as they made their staggered approach towards Masashi. His fellow shugenja reached out with their arms to grab him, their intent betrayed by their open jaws and drooling mouths.

*speeeew*

A stream of thick, black liquid sprayed out into those open mouths from behind Masashi. It was ink, he realized, before also realizing that his friend Hikiko had come to rescue him. And not just him—Fumihiro and Hitomi were there as well!

“By the heavens, what are these abominations?!” Fumihiro yelled, swinging his bamboo training sword into one of the walking corpses. It was only afterwards that he recognized his shriveled opponent. “Shi...Shigeo-senpai? Is that you?”

“These things. Not people,” Hikiko spoke, hosing down a pair of walking dead. “More concerned about...that thing.”

She gestured to the creature that had stood still for the past minute or more. It stared upon the group with no expression—for its eyes and mouth were simply voids—yet Masashi couldn’t help but feel as if it was smirking. It began to ring its bell once more.

“That ring...there’s a spell within it,” Hitomi said, listening intently. “The plants and trees are crying out—their will is at its mercy! We must stop it before we all become its slaves!”

Masashi glanced over at Pan-kun who nodded once more. He then dumped the contents of his sack—pocketing only the ryō—leaving his books, reports and papers scattered on the root floor. Deep down, Masashi knew that he wouldn’t have need of those anymore.

Because he was about to graduate. He was about to leave the Academy and his friends for good.

“Whatever you’re thinking. Bad idea, Masashi-kun,” Hikiko warned him. It was appreciated but ignored all the same as the young shugenja ran forward. It was a reckless charge and easily dodged by the pale demon—except that it was busy getting bitten by a red panda that had gone feral.

Pan-kun was shaken and thrown off though not before forcing the demon to release its bell. As soon as it did, Masashi got within range: not for some magical attack but a far more orthodox one. He pulled the sack over the monster’s head, dragging it down from the air with his weight. He tied it closed as quickly as he could before falling to the cafeteria floor.

When he recovered, he grabbed the bell and Pan-kun and ran off to the others. The floor itself seemed to shift as he ran. The roots grew animated and angry, tripping the shugenja at every step. It snatched at his ankles and whipped at his legs as he passed.

“If that bell be what hath turned our classmates into conjured corpses...then it is foul, and must be removed from this school at once!” Fumihiro declared. “Son of Hashimoto—go! Hikiko-chan and I shall hold them off here!”

“But I—”

“He’s right,” Hikiko said, interrupting Masashi’s protest. “Take Hitomi-chan with you. Get out. Now!”

The order was clear as were the eyes of his two dear friends. Though Hikiko and Fumihiro despised each other and had nothing in common, they fought back-to-back against the undead students together. Hitomi took Masashi by the hand and ran. Even though he was blind he seemed to know exactly where he was going.

Masashi’s greatest regret was not giving them a proper goodbye.

The path ahead was hardly clear: roots poked out from beneath tatami mat tiles, crisscrossing across the floor and stretching up the walls. Some rooms had become entirely closed off, their doors barricaded in roots. Yells from within from trapped students made for an atmosphere that was growing thick both in fear and something else.

“Ah, ah, achoo!” Masashi sneezed. It was difficult enough to see with the air fogged as it was; sneezing every few seconds only made matters worse.

“It’s pollen,” Hitomi said, covering her nose. “Try not to breathe in too much of it. I have a hunch allergies will be the least of our concerns!”

With the blind itako leading them, the pair made it into the Flower Arrangement clubroom. How they were going to escape from there was a good question. Luckily, it was one Hitomi already had an answer for.

“There’s a secret exit to the school’s gardens,” Hitomi said, pushing some of her potted plants out of the way. “Well, it’s not a secret...it’s just that everyone forgot about it. From here, you’ll—ah!”

“Hitomi!” Masashi yelled as his friend was choked by an overgrown lavender that had wrapped itself around her neck. Though between the two of them they managed to get it off, the cherry blossoms, wisterias and the rest of Hitomi’s collection were quickly growing violent.

“I’m beginning to think that going through the gardens is a bad idea!” Masashi said, panting heavily. He continued to do so as he watched the shrine maiden pull out a jar from a cupboard. With a sniff to confirm it, she smiled. She then poured its contents down over Masashi’s scalp.

“It’s vinegar,” Hitomi explained. “I’m sorry about the smell, but to many plants the acidity makes it poisonous. They should avoid you while you wear it. Now then...you should get yourself and that bell out of here before it’s too late, Masa-kun!”

Masashi was already shaking his head. “I can’t go without you! Please...don’t leave me on my own!”

Hitomi said nothing but knelt down and gave Masashi a hug. She embraced his friend tightly, tighter than she had even in the spirit world all those weeks ago.

“I know how brave you really are. Hikiko-chan and Fumihiro-kun know it, too. It’s obvious to everyone that you’re going to be an amazing shugenja someday. I...I just hope you’re as cute then as you are now,” Hitomi said, forcing out a laugh. She choked down her tears and squeezed tighter. “Come back to save us soon, okay? Promise you won’t forget about us, Masa-kun!”

Masashi gave Hitomi his promise. Little did he know that it wasn’t one he could keep.

Exchanging farewells, the young shugenja left through the gardens, the plants parting in his path thanks to Hitomi’s vinegar. The ones that didn’t—rhododendrons and gardenias, mostly—whipped and lashed at him as he ran through. Pan-kun was racing up ahead though stopped to sniff at something at the edge of the field.

Masashi wouldn’t know what it was until he collided into it; he slammed up against an invisible barrier, his forehead bruising and his eyes seeing double. He was still dazed when the demon arrived from out of the school, flying as a specter across the garden. The flowers around it browned and withered as the sensation of rage and malice came forth.

“Unc eyre unberéafigendlic!”

A beam of light formed from within the demon’s mouth and eyes, the cavities glowing blindingly white. The afternoon sky darkened as it did so—as if it was stealing from the sun itself. Maybe it was. Pressed up against the barrier, Masashi could do nothing but cover his eyes with his arms and pray for this nightmare to end.

As if an answer of his prayer, a gentle voice came from beside his neck. It came in the form of a gentle, nuzzling whisper.

“I’m so happy to have met you, Masashi. But it’s time for you to continue your journey without me. If you remember nothing else, then remember this: you must seek a bodyguard and go to Yamato.”

Nothing seemed real and soon none of it would be, not for the shugenja. At the last moment, as the ray shot forth towards Masashi, Pan-kun snatched the bell and jumped into its path. Light, force and sound exploded all at once, sending Masashi through the forcefield, rolling down the hill the Academy was seated upon.

The earth quaked from beneath the shugenja as he clutched his sore back, arms and shoulders. Though he was in pain he was numb in awe, too, as he witnessed the hillside turn mountainous and the grassy knolls part and break open. Earth, roots, dirt and stone erupted from below as the Academy was raised higher and higher.

Masashi gripped his head and sneezed once more, the magical pollen finally taking its toll. The demon, the destruction of his school, the walking corpses of the graduates...soon, all of it began to fade and grow hazy. Every memory the shugenja had at the Academy, every day since his older sister had dropped him off here, began to slip away.

Soon their faces did, too, and along with them...the promise he had made Hitomi-chan.

Masashi looked around at his surroundings before combing back his hair and wondering why he stunk of vinegar. He also questioned why he was cut up, bruised and sore all over. He had an increasing number of questions with no likely answers—and yet there was one thing he knew for certain.

“Hyuga is a dangerous place...even for a shugenja. I think I shall hire myself a bodyguard!”