Kengo's Spirit - Part 3

“Reverend. I will take Mr. Wheeler to the spring.”

Only once in his life had Kengo seen Ikari's eyes go big like that—when a mouse (not even a mouse spirit) ran beneath his robes during a purification rite. For a moment, Kengo actually thought he might have actually given the elder stroke.

The early morning light shone off the priest’s dewy brow, and by Kengo's best judgment, it looked like the old man hadn’t gotten much sleep either last night. “Absolutely not,” Ikari said, when words finally compelled him. “And I shouldn’t have to explain why! But let us start with the simple fact that you are twenty-three, yet still have no spirit of your own.”

Hurtful words delivered in a measure tone, which somehow stung even worse than if they had been yelled. This was okay. Kengo had anticipated resistance.

“I respect the mountain and its creatures,” Kengo said. “The spirits watch out for me. Remember that time I fell into the river and the bathing ape spirits saved me?”

“Their elder filed a formal complaint with me and I had to satisfy them with offerings of oranges for three whole months,” Ikari said, hand to his brow in exasperation. “The whole temple nearly got scurvy!”

Kengo scratched the back of his head and tried to offer his most winning, apologetic smile. “Well, they did still save me. Reverend, I may not have a spirit, but I know how to speak with them. For most of my life, they were all the friends I had.”

Not even the Reverend could deny that. Still, he sat on the silk pillow, crossed legged in front of the ceremonial fire, and stared Kengo down. With the sparks fluttering behind him, he resembled a great spirit himself--unmoving and infinitely powerful.

“Such an unusual child,” he sighed. “I cannot let you throw your life away like this, Kengo. I forbid it. Your mother has already lost one beloved person. How could I live with myself if I was responsible for her losing another?”

So, this was the priest’s ultimate weapon: guilt. Worse, guilt that carried a great amount of truth. Kengo looked down into his lap. This was an awful like a wrestling match, wasn’t it? His sumo teacher always said that every wrestling move was a 'question', and every counter-move an 'answer'.

“It would be my choice and my responsibility. Are our lives not dedicated to the services of others?” Kengo said. “Is it not our duty to offer spiritual healing to those most in need?”

Question.

Answer. “Kengo, why do I sense this is more about your match the other night?”

There was no use lying to him, and Kengo wasn’t very good at lying anyway. He looked down, ashamed, head hung low.

The Reverend sighed. “Do you take me for a fool? I know what you and Rai did. No doubt your mother facilitated all of it—she never listens anyway.” He shook his head. This was the closest Kengo had ever seen Ikari to actual anger. “Spellbreaking! Making the spirits do sport…”

“There are great spirits that are literally wrestlers,” Kengo said back, as politely as he could. He did not want to come off insubordinate. “Including the one who created sumo! But Reverend, this is more than that.” Kengo had never been a confident speaker, so this was like a nightmare. His stomach rumbled, either out of nervousness or hunger, and his palms were sweaty besides.

Still, Kengo spoke from his heart. “I don’t want Mr. Wheeler’s children to go through what I went through. I want to save him.”

The Reverend blinked, yet his face concealed his inner thoughts, whatever they were. Behind him, the fire crackled. “I have never heard you speak with such conviction before. And yet, you seem vulnerable.”

“Well, it’s not easy!” Kengo said, forcing himself to not get all red in the face and bashful. “I’m a pretty big target, you know. I mean, there's a lot of me to aim for! But what I am saying is the truth. It’s hard to face, but I really just want to help this man. It’s the right thing to do.” Kengo could barely believe the sound of his own voice. Had a spirit not possessed him? Then he remembered his oath to himself. 

No more doubts.

The Reverend pulled off his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose out of exhaustion, frustration, and genuine concern. “I am loathe to complain, but how tiresome these last two days have been!” He placed the glasses back on his face. They caught the firelight, creating an eerie yet profound effect.

“I suppose it is not for me to decide the will of the spirits, so in that matter I am in agreement. Yet, it is very difficult for me to feel comfortable with letting you go up the mountain to challenge the guardian of the spring on your own.”

“Then I’ll go with him.”

From a sitting position, Kengo nearly shot up straight into the air. He hadn’t even heard Rai’s approach! He turned and locked eyes with the statuesque figure leaning against the door frame. Even in repose, he looked so damn cool.

“Rai!” Kengo and Ikari said at almost the same time.

The spellbreaker smirked. “What? Do you think one lousy spirit can handle my dragon?”

I must be dreaming, Kengo thought. Or Rai had ulterior motives. There was just no way he’d offer his help unconditionally. Unfortunately, Kengo was in no position to refuse it.

“You boys are going to put me in an early grave,” the Reverend sighed. The ceremonial brazier elongated his and Kengo’s shadows, which blended into the deep void of the ventilated room around then. “I suppose I can’t talk sense of out of either of you. Fine. You two may go. But only because I am certain of Rai’s capabilities.”

After a round of very deep bows, Kengo and Rai left the Reverend in silence and retreated to the privacy of the garden. Kengo had never felt so much adrenaline coursing through his system before, even in a match, and not even the gentle breeze and cool, gray sky could douse his flame.

“Why are you doing this for me?” Kengo said, glaring at Rai strutting along with his hands folded into sleeves like he was some dreamy character from the Tale of Genji or another prettyboy hero who deserved to get sat on.

“It’s not about you,” Rai said, haughtily. “I need to get stronger! I need to make my spirit stronger too. This is the actually the perfect opportunity. If I can defeat the Bear King himself, I can take on the big leagues.” He looked at him sideway and sneered. “You’re just coming along for the ride because I need an audience.”

If Rai wasn’t an expert spellbreaker, Kengo was sure he could break all his ribs easily with a single bear hug. His muscles would be useless then, and he would relish hearing him squeak like a mouse caught in the jaws of a hungry fox...

“Besides, Ken…” He lowered his voice, even though there was no danger in anybody overhearing them. “That Mr. Wheeler is a nice guy, don’t you think? I do feel really bad for him. To be honest, you were absolutely right back there. It’s our duty—hell, it’s part of our faith—to ward away the darkness.” He stopped. “Not that I think you’re particularly brave or anything. I mean, I would have petitioned the Reverend to take Mr. Wheeler up the mountain as well; you just happened to beat me to the punch.”

Kengo stood fuming, allowing Rai to move on and prepare for the journey ahead. If he was going to be sure of himself, he could pack the backpacks. Besides, it wouldn’t be a long trek—just extraordinarily dangerous.

In his absence, Kengo was left alone in the garden with his thoughts, and he started wondering if he had made a truly impulsive mistake. As much as Kengo hated admitting it, doubt was in full force now, and it was proving a more difficult opponent than Rai.

 

Kengo and Rai found Mr. Wheeler in the guest room, already packing his bags. The sight of this polite, sweet man resigned to loss was probably what forced Kuma to blurt out the arrangement he made with the Reverend to escort Mr. Wheeler up the mountainWith Rai’s help, of course, Rai added.

Mr. Wheeler, incredulous, looked at them both. His eyes darted between either young spellbreaker, before he finally settled on Kengo and asked how soon they could leave for the spring. He was ready.

Somehow, unsurprisingly, Kengo got saddled with carrying the backpack, the contents of which were: a few canisters of water and some onigiri to sate them, a first aid kid, some spiritual tools (just in case things got messy) and a flashlight. It would not even be a day’s journey to the spring, which was only an hour or more from the temple grounds and didn’t involve a tremendous degree of uneven terrain. All the better for Kengo, who hated long hikes. The three men found themselves at the back gate, an entrance seldom seen by visitors these days. 

But when they approached the fence, they discovered someone else already waiting for them.

“Ready to go, boys?”

Dressed in her pleated, red hakama pants and white kosode, Minami Oyama looked like she was preparing for shrine attendant duties--not a hike in the woods. She smiled warmly at the trio, and greeted Mr. Wheeler in English.

It was then, and only then, that Kengo realized he had neglected to tell his mother about his plans. “M-mom?”

She smiled, which was either a good sign or a really bad sign. “Oh relax, I’m only taking you through the seal.” The pleasantness remained on her face, but the look she gave Kengo was completely serious. “The rest…is up to you.”

In other words, she approved of her son’s ploy, and did not doubt the gravity of his decision. Kengo felt tears behind is eyes, but kept them in check.

Leave it to Rai to spoil the moment with a blunt line of questioning. “What do you mean? A seal? Reverend didn’t say anything about a seal...”

Poor Mr. Wheeler looked like he had no idea what was going on, and likely thought he was mishearing a translation or two in his head.

Fortunately, Minami was all too happy to clarify. “Yes, little bear. I am the one who sealed the path to the sacred spring, shortly before you were born. Therefore, I am the only one who can open it.”

Kengo had never felt such pride in his own family before, but he was also unnerved that his mother had played such a part in this tragedy.

“Ah, good,” Mr. Wheeler said. He beamed brightly, a stark contrast to the gloomy overcast and fog above the trees. “I love a hike!” he dipped into his own side satchel and withdraw a small, plastic bag filled with fruits and nuts, which he graciously offered to the group. “Trail mix?”

Fallen trees and strewn branches from storms past lined the rocky pathway into the forest. More than a decade had passed since the trail had been walked by visitors or temple staff alike, and thus it had not been maintained. Even more likely, the Reverend had left all of the detritus intact to ward away travellers from wandering onto the sealed pathway.

From what Kengo remembered, there was a tributary of the mountain river that wove its way around the forest, and yet he could not hear the tell-tale sign of water, unlike other trails alongside the mountain. How odd, he thought. Just this morning he had looked down into the mist covered valley and saw the rivers flowing steadily through the tree line, so it wasn’t as if this stretch of woods was affected by an abnormal drought...

It was not a talkative or joyous hike. Even Minami, who Kengo knew could not abide long stretches of silence, said nothing. He hoped Mr. Wheeler didn’t find this rude, but he suspected he understood that none of them were at ease. The air was full of tension, and the lack of wind through the trees made the woods eerily silent. Not only that, but the temperature had suddenly dropped—almost unnaturally so.

No, Kengo thought. Not exactly unnatural. Supernatural. Indeed, spiritual energy—unnoticed by those without the gift—hung in the air, ripe and thick, almost like the atmosphere before a storm. Typically, curious spirits would come out from behind the trees to watch travellers in the woods, especially if the path had not been walked in a while. While the air was rife with magic, Kengo saw no spirits out of the corner of his eye. They were avoiding this place deliberately. Not exactly a reassuring sign.

At some point, without noticing it, the season changed. 

Kengo stopped in his tracks, which—seeing as he was leading—caused almost everyone to bump into each other like an awkward line of dominoes. There was frost on the branches and a dusting of snow on the ground, challenging the appropriateness of the group’s current state of dress.

Kengo looked around the quiet, winter woodland. “…How?”

Minami ignored the question and instead pointed ahead to the opening in the trees. “Ok, here’s the spot.”

They had come upon a frozen basin of an equally frozen waterfall, curtains of thick ice stretching at least ten feet above their heads, into solid rock. The gray mountain rose around them on either side, threatening to swallow them. It was a beautiful, if not eerie scene, its foreboding not helped by the strange mist that rang the trees on either side of them.

“This is the entrance,” Minami said, gesturing to the wall of ice.

“How are we supposed to walk through that?” Rai asked. It was a fair question.

Mr. Wheeler was enchanted. He walked the ring of the frozen pond, inspecting even the slightest blade of frozen grass. Kengo worried for him. He didn’t like the vibe here. Mr. Wheeler had no gift, nor spiritual sight to protect him. Even a man of his stature was vulnerable.

“This is fascinating,” Mr. Wheeler said. He shielded his eyes and gazed up towards the crest of the falls, but it was impossible to see what lay above. “How is it so cold here, but nowhere else?”

“It’s magick,” Rai said, before either Kengo or Minami could politely ease the man into the situation. “And by rights, you shouldn’t even be allowed to see this place, but strange times call for stranger actions.”

Minami wisely chose to interrupt the conversation. “Here we go,” she said, drawing closer to the ice curtain. She looked back at Kengo. “This is where your mama shows you how it’s done!”

The woman stood in front of the waterfall, and she didn’t even need to ask the others to give her room—it was understood that she was about to do something that required a fair amount of space. After closing her eyes and taking a long, deep breath full of mountain air, the woman untied her kosobe and allowed the back portion to fall to her waist, exposing her slender back. She may as well have pulled back the curtain of a masterwork, as the canvas of her body was covered in a beautiful tattoo that stretched from her neckline down to the small of her back. A white stag stood amid a snowy landscape.

Kengo had seen the tattoo before of course—this was his mother after all—but every time it instilled in him a sense of wonder. Mr. Wheeler averted his eyes, not out of horror, but respect, and Rai simply stared down at his feet.

Crystalline flakes of white light peeled away from Minami’s engraved flesh like the seeds of dandelion, dispersing in a deliberate pattern towards the icy pond beneath her feet. They coalesced and shaped themselves into the ethereal form of a phantom stag. Its diamond eyes moved towards the waterfall without a sound.

Despite the phantom creature’s regal appearance, its duties were simple and without the flash-bang awe of Rai’s draconic, spellbreaking performance. The stag simply touched the tip of its antlers to the falls, and then broke itself apart into a luminous snow, carried away by the wind and revolving inwards back onto Minami’s tattooed back, the resting place of its power.

Minami exhaled, gently stirring from her meditate trance, and did not spare a minute longer at the side of the fall. She smiled at her company and shooed them back from the frozen lake—for good reason, Kengo realized. The falls were starting to drip, and the crack of thawing ice split the air. Soon, chunks of ice fell from the falls, releasing torrents and rivers of water. It was a remarkably quick process. The frozen falls, and the shallow basin below, now ran with cold spring water. The enchantment, broken.

“We have to walk through that?” Rai protested. “I’ll get wet.”

“Scared of a little water?” Mr. Wheeler teased him.

Behind the curtain of running water, Kengo saw a passage leading out from behind the crest overlooking the basin. This was the single path to the sacred spring. Thoughts of what lay ahead tugged at his senses, and it was only when he felt the touch of his mother’s hand on his shoulder (she had to reach up) that Kengo came to.

She looked at him with pride and with worry. “This is as far as I can take you. Any further and the falls will freeze behind us…and I don’t think anybody here has the patience to deal with that at this point, do you?” She winked at him.

He smiled. “I love you, mom.” He hugged her, held her close, and then let her go. He did not look back. “Come on,” he told the others. He was afraid of many things right now, but most of all, he was scared at how easy it had been to fall into the role of leader.

Beyond the falls, the path was veiled in a thick mist, the likes of which Kengo had never seen. As he walked onward and upward--Rai and Mr. Wheeler in tow--it felt like they had crossed over from the material world into the realm of the spirits.

He needed a distraction. The silence—of the trees, the company—was starting to get to him. “I’ve only seen mother spirit summon a few times,” he mumbled.

Mr. Wheeler acknowledged him with a grunt. “So, those tattoos your mother and Rai both have. Are they…haunted or something?”

Rai answered before Kengo could gather his thoughts. “I can explain,” he said. “The tattoos are how we bond the spirits to our own souls. Those of us with the power actually possess the same glyph, technically speaking, but it’s more complicated than just that. Spirits give off an energy, but it’s impossible for people without the gift to see it. This energy can concentrate into a type of stone we call magatama, but that name means different things in other forms of our religion.”

Mr. Wheeler pushed a branch away from his face. “He means that stone you used to call that little fox friend during your match, right? Kengo?”

“Yes, ex—” Kengo stopped, as if Mr. Wheeler had just chucked a rock at this head. “WHAT? WAIT! How-how did you know?” He hoped the fog would hide his beet-red face. No, no, no, Mr. Wheeler couldn’t have been watching. He would have seen my complete defeat!

If Rai were smirking right now behind his back, at least he didn’t say anything. Mr. Wheeler just lightly chuckled to himself and kept up the pace. “Heh, I have some secrets of my own, you know? So that stone is how you derive the ink you use for those beautiful works of art on your backs?”

“Correct,” Rai answered—again—for Kengo. He held his head high, aloof. “Such things used to be priceless secrets beyond common ken, of course. You know, I’m pretty sure in the past we would have had the right to kill you for learning it, but I suppose times have changed and it’s harder and harder to preserve the secrets of our faith so…I guess everyone knows now.” He shrugged. “I dunno. When you’re raised with the Path of Spirits, it doesn’t seem weird. It’s just what we know.”

Kengo nodded. It was a fine summary, and respectful at that. “Yes, our faith is very distinct. We have less than eight shrines all over Japan.” He tried to get a better look at the path ahead, but it was too damn dense, and his heart was beating a million times a minute. He decided to keep talking as a distraction, and because it was rare to host a captive audience without getting stage fright.

“I suppose that other followers of traditional Japanese belief systems would, in fact, shun us,” Rai added. “Most people in Japan associate tattoos with crime. It’s often hard for us to make appearances in public, which is why spell breaking offers a safe vehicle for us outside the temple. Otherwise, it would be almost impossible to find careers or relationships outside the Path of Spirits, even with others who express a glyph.” He lowered his head, as if bowing to those that came before him. 

Kengo honestly respected Rai for speaking so eloquently in defense of their faith. Never had he felt as if the magic he practiced mattered until today, and he was glad to be using it for a good cause.

“I had no idea,” Mr. Wheeler said, with a certain amount of child-like awe. “Hmm. I can only imagine how lonely that have been for you two boys growing up.”

Kengo’s heart sunk. Mr. Wheeler was right to assume so. Life behind walls, in a place that felt more like the past than the present, had not been easy—especially when trying to live up to his father’ strength and his mother’s magical prowess. Then, of course, there was Ria’s shadow, always hanging over his head.

No doubts, Kengo reminded himself.

"And...what do you do for a living, Mr. Wheeler?" Kengo ventured.

The man chuckled. "Me? I was once a soldier, as you probably no. Now I am a nurse, if you can believe it. Among other things I will keep closer to my chest." His face solemn, Mr. Wheeler peered into the fog. "I don't have a glyph but I have a background in sports medicine and I know how to heal. It's how I'm making right with the Goddess, these days. And I have a lot to atone for..." 

The air had grown cooler, and the daylight somehow faded away behind the blanket of fog. A very light snowfall picked up, despite the temperature being a few degrees higher than freezing. Something was off here, Kengo thought. This was truly a magical space, affected by powers that he could only just barely begin to comprehend.

A lopsided wooden sign—who-knows-how-many-years-old—jutted out from overgrowth. Kengo did his best to make out the weather-worn lettering. Sacred spring of Mt. ____ ahead. Please urge caution when getting in and out of water. Please ask for temple assistance. Also, do not feed the squirrels.

Kengo bit his lip. They were close. Thank goodness he used the bathroom before he’d taken to the trail, otherwise he’d have needed to excuse himself right about now.

“Let’s take a rest,” he said to the others. Being leader was so strange, and even stranger was that he didn’t feel like he was half bad at it. “We’re almost there.”

The men sat on a rotten log, snacking on trail mix, drinking from the canteen, and otherwise gathering the courage to proceed towards their destiny. Kengo couldn’t help noticing Mr. Wheelers hand going to his ‘bad’ arm. He didn’t want to think about the pain. He was a very brave, kind man. Rai regaled them with tales of previous matches (curiously, all the ones he won) and Kengo tuned him out, distracted by thoughts of impending doom and a sudden craving for spicy tuna onigiri. If this spirit bear didn’t kill him first, the stress-hunger would do him in first.

At some point, Rai announced—with an uncomfortable amount of satisfaction—that he needed to pee, and so he took off into the bush before Kengo could urge caution. Being left alone with strangers was low on the list of Kengo’s favorite things, and doubly so for strangers whose life he was intending to save. But, so be it.

Besides, there was that other thing gnawing away at Kengo’s thoughts. Ever since he’d met Mr. Wheeler and overheard his conversation with Ikari (something he still felt guilty about), there was something about this story that just didn’t add up. For all of Kengo’s remarkable introversion, it had made him a good listener over the years, and inconsistencies stuck out to him.

Now was as good a time as any to bring it up, especially if they were about to walk into the literal jaws of death. Might as well…

Trustfully, Kengo breaching a topic was not one of Kengo’s strong suits. “Um…Mr. Wheeler…”

“Yes, Mr. Kengo?”

“Uh…well…you see…there’s something I’m afraid to ask you.”

“Hm. Then you should ask it.”

Kengo blushed. What did he think he was going to say? I mean, Mr. Wheeler was handsome, but that was another issue altogether…

The man laughed, probably louder than he should have considering the circumstances. “What, if you agreed to drag my sorry ass to the killer ghost bear, I think you’re brave enough to ask a simple question!”

He was right. Time for courage. “The war…it was years ago, wasn’t it? How long have you really been cursed, Mr. Wheeler?”

Kengo feared the worst. Anger. Yelling. Disapproving looks. Or worse, disappointment—the Reverend’s weapon of choice.

Instead, Mr. Wheeler gave Kengo a sheepish grin and a wan shrug. “Ah, looks like you caught me. Knew you were smart. I suspect that the good Reverend saw through me too but was just too damn polite to question, or he figured he’d already said “no” to my request so there was no sense in pushing me to divulge more. But yeah. This curse of mine was a lot recent. It’s not a total lie, mind you. I was indeed wounded for defending Ikari’s brother, rest his soul. His honor.” He looked away, off into the fog. “I was going after the bastard who killed him.”

 “What?” Kengo hadn’t expected a turn like this. Now he wondered if it was Mr. Wheeler he should be afraid of, not the Bear King.

The Texan patted Kengo’s large thigh. “Afraid that’s all I’m comfortable telling you. I trust you, kid. I really do! You have heart. Guts. And you’re built like a truck, to boot! But…I don’t want you, or the good holy man, or your wonderful mom getting involved with this ordeal. There’s...another war brewing that I’m trying to stop. I’ll say that much.”

Kengo wanted to know more. He had a million questions. Unfortunately, before he could ask another, a human scream cut through the quiet and forced both Mr. Wheeler and Kengo to their feet. A low war, mistakable for the rumble of an earthquake, followed suit. It was one of those sounds from the woods that could have come from everywhere.

“Rai!” Kengo shouted into the void...

NEXT CHAPTER!