The Spirit Sorcerer

Chapter 2

“What I want to know is what the mirror’s contents have to do with Sagishi,” Masanori said as he climbed the ramp to the Sky Temple.

“Sagishi was not present in the images depicted,” Tama whispered, “you cannot know for certain he was involved. The mirrors may have been recreated as a Sa mirror when they fused together, revealing your inner desires rather than your external intentions.”

Masanori thought his desires and demands had been in sync, but considering he struggled to keep control of his emotions during that session, he might not have had absolute control over the mirrors. This happened much less frequently than it used to, and it had been a while since the last occurrence, but that didn’t mean it was impossible.

It had seemed like a Stability mirror, but he could have only wanted it to be so.

When he arrived in front of the Sky Temple, he hung back from the assembled crowd gradually making its way inside. “I suppose that’s probable since the other kawama was there. Do you know who that fox was?”

“I have an inkling of who, but—”

“Napeyu!” Ichika’s shriek came as a mixture of glee and surprise, which abruptly cut off when she threw herself at him. “I worried you weren’t coming!”

Masanori wrapped his arms around her with a laugh. She smelled of mist and salt, so she must have been swimming in the Channel of Stars before coming to the temple. “Where else would I be? I wouldn’t miss your Path ceremony even if Seiryuu was burning.”

All the anxiety he’d felt since last night when he visited the dreamweed pool evaporated with the warmth of her embrace. He decided that he did not need to know Tama’s ideas right now.

Tonight was about Ichika—her choices, her path in life.

His worries could wait until tomorrow.

Despite the obvious stares, they ignored the crowd of congregated families and Ishoki who’d come for the ceremonies. When Masanori let her go, she wore a frown instead of the beaming smile from a moment beforehand.

“You’ve been weird since we returned from our hunt in the Downworld,” Ichika said. “And I wasn’t sure if Yehan-don would be able to talk any sense into you.”

“Oh, so you were part of the plan to send Nideke to ambush me, were you?”

“If Gensou couldn’t talk some sense into you, then the rest of us had to.”

Masanori frowned, too, at the mention of Gensou.

“What?”

HE’S MAD AT ME FOR SOME REASON. A cloud of violet scattered around Masanori, and Gensou materialized, forcing nearby onlookers to move out of the way. She was an amalgamation of what she described as ‘the best’ parts of a tapir and tiger: a striped, lithe body for speed and beauty, and deadly paws to claw enemies. Tusks to skewer. And, of course, her trunk, best for sucking nightmares from the minds of her prey.

Her sudden appearance drew the attention of those who weren’t already staring at Masanori and Ichika. Everyone stopped what they were doing to bow, murmuring praises and prayers to the sacred baku who walked amongst them.

Masanori took the chance to guide Ichika through the throng at the front of the temple and through the doors, then past the rows of banners representing the Ishoki guardians throughout history. Most were long gone, but several of the old clans still lingered throughout the Nightmare.

“Probably because a certain someone has a tendency to make everything about her,” Ichika said with a cheeky smile. She ran her fingers along Gensou’s flank, but her hand fell through Gensou’s spirit form, sending sparkles of lavender dust whirling around. “But we love you anyway.”

I CERTAINLY DO LOVE MYSELF. Gensou’s tail swished as though she felt Ichika’s attempt to pet her. BUT UNFORTUNATELY FOR ME, YOUR NAPEYU AND I ARE ONE AND THE SAME FOR THE FORESEEABLE FUTURE. DOES CARING FOR HIM MAKE ME SELFISH, THEN, OR SELFLESS?

“Hmm, I’ll have to think about that one.”

“I don’t think you want to know my answer,” Masanori said.

Ichika elbowed him, and Gensou whacked him with her trunk. He rubbed the point of impact since, unlike Ichika, Gensou could touch him.

Often, Gensou had her best interests at heart, not his. Regardless of their arrangement, she was an ancient spirit, and he relied upon her for survival. Their necessary dynamic gave her much more sway over their relationship than Masanori had previously admitted to himself, and he only had himself to blame.

While he was upset with Gensou for her antics, he didn’t blame her. He hoped he would find better ways to work with her idiosyncrasies in the future.

At the far end of the temple were the prominent wooden figures representing Ishoki spirit guardians, but Masanori, Ichika, and Gensou didn’t approach without an invitation. They veered away from as many people as possible to await the start of the ceremony.

I SUPPOSE CONGRATULATIONS ARE IN ORDER?

Ichika bowed her head to the spirit. “Thank you, noble one. Please don’t be upset that you won’t be my patron.”

YOU DO NOT HAVE AS MUCH INFLUENCE OVER YOUR PATH AS YOU MIGHT BELIEVE. I COULD CHOOSE TO CLAIM YOU NOW, AND THE OTHER SPIRITS WOULD ACCEDE TO MY DEMANDS BECAUSE I CLAIM SO FEW OF YOU ISHOKI FOR MYSELF.

“Oh, but you wouldn’t do that, would you? I think Masanori is too much for you already. What use would I be, or any other child, for that matter?”

YOU’RE RIGHT. Gensou sat on her hind legs and licked a forepaw. MASANORI CAN BE A BIG CHILD SOMETIMES.

Ichika snickered and wrapped her arms around Masanori’s waist. “Oh, but much like you, we love him anyway, don’t we?”

TOLERATE AT BEST, MAYBE.

“Speaking of the spirits and choices,” Masanori interrupted before Gensou said anything else that would rub him the wrong way, “did you make your decision about tonight?”

Ichika’s proud shoulders quavered. “Yes. No. Maybe… I don’t know.”

UH OH. I SENSE THE UNDAUNTED ONE CALLING TO ME.

Gensou loped off into the crowd, followed by several Ishoki who were keen to watch her chase after her imaginary excuse to opt-out of this conversation. Few Ishoki who weren’t close to Masanori had the chance to see the legendary baku up close. He was sure some people came to the Path ceremony to see Gensou in action. However, they were about to be disappointed, as she was about as lazy as she was noble when it came to official ceremonial obligations.

“Weren’t you and Kira supposed to talk about this?” Masanori cast a concerned glance at Ichika. “I thought you made up your mind?”

“It’s not that big of a deal—” Ichika started.

“Not a big deal?” He laughed. “Oh, my sweet naguku, this is the opposite of ‘not a big deal.’ Has anyone bothered to tell you what happens at a Path ceremony when you don’t decide for yourself which spirit you belong under?”

Ichika crossed her arms. “I thought the spirits would just choose for me.”

“They might, or they might not choose you at all.”

“But… that wouldn’t happen to me.” Her mouth set into a fearful frown. “Would it?”

“The spirits do what they want. If there is one rule you must always follow, it is that you never deviate from a spirit’s directions when given unless it’s a matter of survival. The spirits revered by Ishoki explicitly asked for each participant in the Path ceremony to indicate where they believe they belong.” Masanori swallowed. “I thought you understood that.”

Ichika’s lower lip trembled, her face drained of the joy previously animating every muscle. “I wanted to place my fate in their hands.”

“Why would you give up the power to choose for yourself? Not everyone is given a choice.”

“But what choice do I really have? Kira keeps reminding me that even if I don’t want to become a dragon rider, which spirit would I pledge for ki-engineering? It hasn’t been done before.”

“Well… no, not technically, but ki-engineering is more than putting together metal bits with ki. It’s a creative and innovative process, which are characteristics that phoenix values. The renewal and rejuvenation of old ideas and development of new ones.”

Ichika glanced at the wooden figures dominating the back curve of the Sky Temple, the shrine dedicated to Baku, Phoenix, Dragon, and Shishajya. A brazier sat at the base of each statue, and several offerings had been placed on the wooden steps.

The Ishoki spirits were fickle beings, but far less so than other spirits Masanori had engaged with. They rewarded behaviours that were in tune with their ideals; Gensou, for example, revelled when Masanori gave in to the chaos rummaging through his spirit, and Dragon loved feats of combat and bravery.

But only those claimed by a spirit had that privilege—not those like Ichika who hadn’t decided their Path.

Her eyes were wet, but she didn’t let the tears fall. “All I wanted was to… to take the choice away. Let the spirits decide. Because if Dragon or one of the other spirits chooses me, not the other way around, then… then whatever happens is meant to be, right?”

“Whatever you choose is meant to be,” Masanori emphasized, though he understood her choice was a difficult one. “And if you’re not sure yet, it might be best if you wait to complete the Path ceremony next year. There’s no shame in that. You must be sure when you face the spirits, naguku.”

“But I am sure I want to be a dragon rider and a ki-engineer in equal capacity, and I don’t see how that’s possible. How could I keep up with the training for both?” She worried the hem of her sleeve. “The dragon-riding regime seems… intense.”

He squeezed her shoulder, wishing he didn’t have to see her tying herself into knots like this. “If it’s what you want, you’ll always find a way. Maybe that means focusing on one aspect of both at a time and discovering how they complement each other.”

“But doesn’t that mean I’ll be slow at both?”

“Do you think I’m any less a ki-engineer because I also spent time training as a warrior and a shaman these past years?”

“No…” Ichika shifted in place. “But it feels wrong to ask two spirits to guide me. You still only have Baku. Isn’t it greedy to ask for more, something different than the other Ishoki? What if I try, and that’s what causes none of them to take me?”

“If that happens, then none of them are good enough for you. Because if you are brave and stand up for yourself when you’re afraid, and none of the spirits are smart enough to take you, they will be the ones missing out.”

Ichika offered a small smile, and they both glanced at the crowd. Ishoki were now organizing around the long wooden tables set out to view the ceremony and for the feast after.

“You think so?” she said.

“Ichika… I know so. You’re much quicker than I was at your age. You shouldn’t limit yourself on behalf of someone else, especially not the spirits.” He ruffled her hair. “Never let anyone tell you that you’re incapable of something.”

“Not even Kira?”

“Especially not Kira. She loves you, and she means well, but she’s not you.”

Masanori could see that something in Ichika’s eyes had changed, and finally, she nodded. “Thank you, napeyu. I’ll think about it more.”

The torchlight closest to the altars flared to life, and a hush fell about the assembled Ishoki. Nideke began making their way from the entrance of the Sky Temple to the shrine proper, their ancient and worn body hunched beneath the weight of their ancestral kan’thir skull mask.

“Don’t think for too long; soon, the spirits will be lining up to whisk you away into the next stage of your life.” Masanori grabbed Ichika’s shoulders, turned her around, and nudged her toward the edge of the shrine, where the other children waited for the ceremony. “Run along now.”

Ichika bounded off, her poofy red fox tail swishing behind her before she remembered that it was visible, and it disappeared in a flash of red smoke. She grinned cheekily at Masanori before he, too, went off to find his position at one of the front tables next to Kira.

For the ceremony, Kira was in full dragon rider regalia: her leather riding leggings and airy shirt and the long, turquoise cloak dotted with silver dragon scales, small bones, and beaded patterns. Each item affixed to her cloak and armour denoted a specific accomplishment recognized by her clan. Most of the other attendees were dressed up as well, including Masanori; it was a sign of respect for those who would soon join their ranks.

Kira nodded as he sat opposite her. “Rayanai, Masanori.”

“Don’t say it. You also thought I was going to miss this.”

“Not a chance; you would never miss Ichika’s big day.” A broad smile spread across her face. “You still think I don’t know you at all.” She shook her head. “It’s been hard these past few months, but you do not have to be there for Ichika at all hours. She can take care of herself.”

“She has you to thank for that.”

“Both of us.” Kira leaned across the table and squeezed Masanori’s hand. “And tonight, Ichika will take her place amongst the dragon-bonded, and she will never be alone again.”

Kira had devoted herself to becoming a hardened warrior and demon slayer since their arrival in the Nightmare, and Masanori hadn’t expected her softer side to make an appearance tonight. It was a shame to be the one to dispel the illusion she’d created, but he would rather ruin the moment than have her blow up at Ichika later.

“About that, Kira…” Masanori started. “Ichika is—”

The bowl beneath the Dragon statue blazed to life with navy blue fire. Nideke approached the centre of the dais, and the flames lit up beneath the other spirits: golden amber for Phoenix, turquoise for Serpent, and purple for Baku. A halo of matching energy wafted from each wooden figure, giving them an ethereal glow.

The baku statue was a perfect depiction of Gensou, posed menacingly with her claws, trunk, and tusks outstretched. The ki coming from the wood tugged Masanori forward, but he stayed planted. His attention flicked to Gensou, who padded through the remnants of the crowd.

They made eye contact, and her form broke into a violet stream of light to rejoin with his body. Her return was like taking a deep breath of air; no matter how he wished he didn’t need her sometimes, she was a part of him.

“The spirits honour us with their presence tonight.” Nideke knelt and bowed their head to each wooden figure, and everyone else in the room copied. “Phoenix, the sparks of creativity. Dragon, the ferocity of warfare. Shishajya, the weight of wisdom. And Baku, the gift of spirituality.”

Nideke’s head rose, the curled horns of their mask lifting with them. Turning back to the assembled Ishoki, they continued, “We gather today to witness the same as the spirits: the new lineage of youth who will join the ranks of their clans. With only three participants in this year’s Path ceremony, competition amongst the spirits will be fierce.”

The flames beneath the statues blazed brighter, all but Baku’s. Gensou wasn’t going to pretend to be interested in amassing more followers when everyone knew she was extraordinarily picky about who became shaman under her name. There were many other baku, but similar to the bond Masanori and Gensou had created, all baku were linked as one unified entity.

Nideke gestured to the three youths bowing at the base of the dais. “Come to me, Aora Highstrider. To which spirit do you appeal?”

After a pause, the girl beside Ichika rose to her feet. Her long blonde hair shifted around her leather armour as she came to kneel in front of Nideke instead. She touched her fingertips to Nideke’s outstretched palms.

“For years, I have trained with sword and shield, bow and spear. I mastered the language of dragons so I might find my place amongst them,” Aora said. “I would join the ranks of Dragon.”

Dragon’s fire blazed high, inspiring gasps of awe from the crowd. Even Masanori and Kira nodded their approval of Dragon’s choice; Aora had been training alongside Ichika, Kira, and the other dragon riders for years.

When she lifted her head, she wore a smile to match the pride reflected in all those around her.

“The spirits have chosen,” Nideke said. “Rise, young Aora, the newest member of the dragon riders.”

With her head raised high, she stood with Nideke’s help, then bowed her thanks to each of the spirits before stepping from the spotlight and joining the assembled dragon riders. As she passed, Kira patted Aora on the back.

Once the room had settled again, Nideke faced Ichika and the other child with her. “Come to me, Tikumale Ridgeplain. To which spirit do you appeal?”

Nideke gestured to the young boy, Tikumale. He ascended the steps with his robes dragging behind him. “Spirits, my hands are deft not with weapons but tools of creation. I weave and draw, shape wood and leather. For this”—he turned to the bird totem—“Were that she would have me, I would join the ranks of Phoenix.”

The orange embers burst upward from beneath the totem, but the strength of the fire wasn’t as powerful as Aora’s. Seconds after Phoenix’s flames stabilized, turquoise fire erupted from the bowl beneath the Serpent totem. The blaze grew until it surpassed the height of Phoenix’s by several inches, where the glowing fire stayed.

“Tikumale…” a serpent’s voice whispered throughout the Sky Temple. “We admire your creative spirit, but Phoenix and I acknowledge what you have yet to: the rising stream of ki within you. Every day, your powers grow, yet you are without guidance. Phoenix believes you will find your best teacher amongst the Serpents.”

Tikumale, head still bowed to Phoenix, swallowed and then turned to Serpent. His tight bow touched his forehead to the floor. “Thank you, Serpent, for choosing me.”

“The spirits have spoken,” Nideke declared, directing Tikumale to leave the dais. “You will join the Serpents.”

Murmurs of shock rippled throughout the crowd; Phoenix and Serpent rarely agreed with one another, especially when it came to claiming candidates. Their whispers turned to ones of congratulations when Tikumale neared. While Masanori wasn’t as familiar with Tikumale as with Aora, he had never seen the boy use ki. A strange decision on the spirits’ part, but he assumed they knew more than they said.

Nideke raised their arms. “Come to me, Ichika Soulfox. Which spirit do you appeal to?”

When Ichika stood, she stripped off the cloak Kira had given her: the one declaring her allegiance with Dragon. All she wore was the simple short-sleeved top and loose pants. Glancing at Kira, her jaw tightened, and her knuckles whitened against the edge of the table.

Despite her lack of adornments, Ichika managed to look prouder than the other teens when they approached the spirits. She held her head high, even when she bowed to each of the spirits’ statues.

She did not kneel.

She met Masanori’s eye across the room, and a sinking, twisting feeling turned his stomach upside down.

“I am a woman caught between multiple worlds.” Ichika squared her shoulders to the array of spirit statues. “Neither fox nor girl, with no connection to Ishoki nor you, noble spirits, beyond the welcome you have shown me. But not being born amongst you does not make me any less worthy of the path I deserve. And many of them there are.”

“What is she doing?” Kira hissed. “She’s going to disrespect the spirits!”

Kira moved to stand, but Masanori clamped his hand down on hers, dragging her back to her seat. “Don’t. Ichika has chosen her path. Let her walk it. If you interrupt, you will only make the spirits angrier.”

Doubt and fear twisted in Kira’s expression, but eventually, she sat. “Spirits,” she murmured. “I don’t think I can watch.”

And yet she didn’t tear her eyes away.

“Unlike most my age,” Ichika went on, “I did not spend my entire childhood preparing for this moment. Within each of you, I see myself: I have trained with weapons as Dragon demands. I was born with ki, as Shishajya requires, and I could shapeshift before I could speak. Every day, I create with tools new to Ishoki, building and dreaming of devices never seen in the Nightmare or the Downworld.” She faced the statue of Baku. “And I have travelled between worlds and dreams as often as a young shaman might. I wear the pain of my misaligned identities every day. But this pain does not make me weaker. It makes me stronger.

“So I tell you not which one of your clans I feel worthy of, spirits.” Ichika raised her arms to the spirits in a grand gesture. “I ask instead, which of you are worthy of me?”