CHAPTER 1 #2
“Hello there, lad,” his grandfather said after he noticed Shinji staring. “How may I be of help?”
Shinji glanced at the transparent reiryoku, hovering over his grandfather like a heat haze, making the objects directly behind him look as if they were viewed through a mass of warm air.
It was untrained. His grandfather was a non-practicing supernatural.
Shinji wondered for a moment why his grandfather never trained his spiritual energy, then decided he didn’t really care.
Just get it over with.
“Good afternoon.” He bowed his head. “My name is Miyazaki Shinji. I’m Arisa’s son.”
The color drained from his grandfather’s face, and he gaped, clutching the shelf beside him for support.
“Shinji?” His voice quivered, and he stared at Shinji from head to toe.
“Is it really you? I thought…” He stopped, and Shinji wondered whether his grandfather had thought him dead.
His eyes fell on Shinji’s white spiritual energy, and he nodded to himself. “It makes sense.”
Shinji didn’t reply to that. The awkwardness was palpable, and they stared at each other for another few seconds, neither knowing what to do next.
He wondered what other people did when they saw family after a long time.
Did they burst into tears and hug? Or were they just as lost about what to do as he was right now?
Shinji didn’t feel like crying or hugging.
Thankfully, neither did his grandfather.
“I’m here to talk about my mother,” Shinji continued.
“I see.” He instructed the young clerk to watch the shop, then beckoned Shinji. “Follow me. Your grandmother will be happy to see you.”
He headed outside, and Shinji followed, keeping his steps small so he wouldn’t walk ahead of his grandfather’s slight limp. They didn’t walk for long as his grandfather headed toward the house right next to the shop and slid open the wooden doors.
“Chigusa!” his grandfather called. “Bring some tea and snacks.”
His grandmother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron.
She had short hair, combed back, with a few black strands lost among all the white ones, and wore a pale yellow summer shirt with short sleeves and a long green skirt.
A faint purple energy hovered around; she was likely a practicing or retired shaman by the looks of it.
She gave her husband an inquisitive glance, and her face went ashen at his answer.
“Shinji?” She approached him cautiously and stared up at his face. “It’s really you.”
“Yes,” Shinji replied, not knowing what else to say.
She muttered something under her breath, eyes wetting at the corners, and tears falling down her cheeks.
Shinji almost moved out of her way when she wrapped her arms around him, her head barely reaching his chest. Frozen to his spot, he only managed to pat her back in a terribly awkward gesture that he meant to be reassuring.
Finally, she pulled away and studied his face. “You look just like your mother.”
Hearing those words took away some of the tension in his body. Being compared to his mother always gave him childish joy; these comparisons were the only connections he had with the mother he never met but whom everyone seemed to love.
“That’s why I’m here,” Shinji said. “I’d like to speak to you about her.”
His grandmother’s lower lip trembled before she stepped away. “I’ll bring tea.”
Shinji inhaled sharply, almost wanting to tell her to forget the tea and just tell him everything right now, but he sat himself down on a floor cushion, patiently waiting for his grandmother to set the tea and a plate of cut fruit in front of him.
“How have you been?” his grandfather asked. “Is… uh…”
“Father died when I was nineteen,” Shinji answered the unasked question. “By that time, I had already moved away and applied to the police academy.”
His grandparents both nodded, impressed. “That’s nice,” his grandfather said. “Where did you move?”
“Well, first I worked in Hiroshima, and last year I moved to Tōkyō permanently. I’m currently a sergeant at the Metropolitan Police Department.”
His grandmother leaned forward. “You lived in Hiroshima? Why didn’t you contact us? If we’d known you were in Hiroshima, we could’ve kept in touch.”
“Why didn’t you contact me at all?” Shinji retorted before he could stop himself. Now that he had started it, he might as well go on. “I don’t even remember the last time I saw you.”
“Your father wouldn’t let us.” His grandmother’s hands trembled, and she hid them under the table.
“You could’ve tried harder. Could’ve gone to court, I don’t know.
” Shinji’s voice was so full of spite, he could barely recognize himself.
He immediately felt like crap for saying that.
He didn’t know the full story. “We struggled a lot. Father didn’t know how to raise a child and never got better.
” Shinji stopped as his grandparents exchanged a guilty glance.
“But I’m not here to speak about my father’s shortcomings or why you couldn’t bother to help me.
I want to know more about my mother. I understand she was a healer? ”
His grandfather looked at the white energy surrounding Shinji, then sighed and nodded. “She was.”
For a moment, Shinji wished he’d been a healer too, with a warm energy instead of his cold one that siphoned Teruo’s soul. “Did she work for the Onmyōryō?”
His grandfather snorted, face contorting in a sneer. “Never. We didn’t associate with those people.”
Having worked for the Onmyōryō for so long, the hatred for the organization wasn’t surprising to Shinji. Those who didn’t work for the Onmyōryō either despised it or feared it.
“Are you working for them?” his grandfather asked, giving him a wary look.
“Yes, I am. I’ve been working there since I was about twenty.”
They both gasped, aghast at his words, which Shinji found to be an over-the-top reaction, and he rolled his eyes.
“I’m not here on their behalf,” he said. “They don’t know about the situation, and it will stay that way.”
“You won’t be able to hide from them for long,” his grandfather said.
“Mother managed.” Shinji shrugged.
“Why do you work for those people?” his grandmother asked in a hushed tone, like someone from the Onmyōryō was gonna barge in at any moment.
Shinji’s eye twitched in annoyance. “Because they pay me a good salary for the simple task of sending spirits to the other side. Back when I was just a rookie officer, I was living paycheck to paycheck, so I chose to sign a contract with them, and I remained employed.”
“They’re evil,” his grandmother whispered.
“Some of them might be evil,” Shinji corrected. “You could say my father was evil too, but you were fine leaving me with him for nineteen years.” He glanced at them both, but they averted their eyes. “I’d like to get back to my mother. Did she ever heal non-supernaturals?”
“She did.” His grandmother took a sip of tea, her hands slightly steadier. “Told her to stop because it was dangerous, but she was stubborn.” She shook her head, but her mouth curved in a little smile.
“Was the Onmyōryō aware of it?” Shinji asked.
“No,” his grandfather replied. “But they had their eyes on her.” He paused, rubbing his forehead. “They were suspicious of her due to rumors that they couldn’t prove.”
“Rumors of her healing non-supernaturals.”
“Yes. It was the early '90s, and the laws about the non-supernaturals were changing, forbidding the mingling between the two worlds without express approval from the Onmyōryō. Everybody had to obey, even those not working directly with the organization.” He sighed. “Arisa rejected them.”
“Rejected what, exactly?”
His grandfather raised his fingers. “They gave her two choices: either become a contracted healer and be officially registered with the Onmyōryō, or stop healing altogether. They wanted to monitor who she healed and how she used her powers. If she didn’t comply, they’d arrest her if they ever caught her using her powers.
She chose not to register, and she was put under supervision. ”
“I take it they never caught her in the act.”
“She was very good at avoiding their spies.” There was a hint of pride in his grandfather’s voice, despite being against Arisa’s choices.
“Then she married that man,” his grandmother added, her voice full of disgust. “She ran to the countryside, where the Onmyōryō hadn’t spread their control yet.
Thought she’d be safe there…” His grandmother didn’t continue, but Shinji could take a guess that she was referring to his mother’s death in childbirth.
“Thirty-four years ago,” Shinji changed the subject, “my mother helped a pregnant woman. The woman’s unborn baby’s soul didn’t form properly, and he was dying. My mother replaced the missing part of the soul with an elderly man’s soul who was on his deathbed.”
His grandmother’s eyebrows rose as if she remembered something.
“That was Senda, her teacher. He taught her how to fix injuries and illnesses, including those non-supernatural in nature. Then he fell ill, and no amount of healing helped him. I guess he wanted to try to use his soul for one last good deed and help the baby.”
“Well, it worked because the baby he saved is now my superior officer at the TMPD.” Shinji left out the part that Teruo was also his boyfriend.
“Every time my spiritual energy is depleted, he automatically replenishes it, but this healing is taking away his very soul because he’s not a supernatural.
He’s got no reiryoku. We’re looking for ways to solve this issue.
To stop him from healing me and… killing himself in the process. ” He nearly choked on the words.
His grandfather nodded. “The soul knows its savior. It recognizes Arisa through you, and since Senda was a healer, too, it uses that part of itself to aid you.”
“Seems that way,” Shinji agreed. “Protective wards kept it in check for a while, but we can’t use them anymore.
Did my mother ever share details of her healing process with you?
Anything that would point me in the right direction to stop his soul from healing my energy?
It’s putting my superior officer in grave danger. ”
His grandparents shook their heads, and his grandmother averted her eyes, suddenly preoccupied with a piece of fruit.
Shinji tilted his head and caught her gaze. “Or do you have any info about Senda’s family?”
“Arisa seldom spoke about Senda or her healing,” his grandmother said. “It was safer that way for all of us.”
Shinji had the impression she was lying. “Are you sure?” he insisted. “Any small detail would help.”
“Don’t worry about your superior officer,” his grandmother said.
“Please, I need to—”
“He’ll die soon, anyway,” she cut in, her voice cold. “If you had never met, he might’ve lived for a little longer.”
“What…?” Shinji whispered, his heart hammering in his chest. “No. There has to be a way to fix this.”
“There isn’t,” his grandfather declared, then shook his head. “Arisa and her teacher should’ve never done such a thing.”
His grandmother’s voice turned warm. “Come back to Hiroshima. You can’t help him.”
Her words left Shinji speechless, and he struggled to pull himself together. “That’s not an option. Please, tell me if you know another healer.”
His grandmother placed her hand on his. “Just forget about him, Shinji. He has lived longer than he should have.”
“How can you say such a thing?” Shinji snapped.
“I came all the way here because I’m desperate to help him, and your answer is to let him die?
” Bile came up Shinji’s throat, and he withdrew his hand, then grabbed his backpack.
“This is why I never contacted you. I was afraid you’d turn out to be just like my father, and I was right.
” He rushed out of the room while his grandfather called for him, put on his sneakers in a hurry, then barged out of the house.
He couldn’t believe what he’d just heard from his own grandparents. All this time, he thought his father had been a horrible person, but he was almost tempted to think his father might’ve been the lesser evil.
His family was the nasty gift that kept on giving.