The Gatekeeper's Son (26 page)

I glared at her and then turned and started to walk away. “I’m going to the shrine,” I said over my shoulder.

“Do not do that, Junya.” There was an edge in her voice.

I didn’t hear her move, but a second later I was on my back with her straddling me. The air whooshed out of my lungs, taking most of my anger with it.

She poked my chest. “Did your mother tell you where she and your father joined their bodies to create you?”

“Are you kidding?” I said, my voice about an octave higher than usual. I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, and anyway it was hard to focus with her sitting on top of me like that.

Her face changed. “You must work harder keeping your mind closed.” Then she looked at me in surprise.

My face flushed. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, expecting to see Tomi running toward us with a raised sword any minute. “It kind of …does that … on its own.”

She nodded. “I see.” She moved farther up my hips. “May I ask another question?”

“Shoot,” I said, my voice strained. “That means ‘go ahead’, by the way.”

“Yes, I knew that one.” She looked pleased with herself. “Up until the day we met, did you like your life?”

I had to give that some thought before I answered.

“Well, there are lots of things I’d like to change, but … yeah, I did. I have great friends, plans for the future—lots of good things. Plus, no one was lying to me or trying to kill me.” But I never had a girl straddle me.

She picked up a small flower and made a loop.

“But you were strolling aimlessly through a dream.” She poked my chest again. “It seems to me that, like your parents’ lovemaking, you do not need to know everything to be happy.”

“Could you stop talking about sex?”

“I did not realize I was.” She grinned. “With the awakening of your abilities, knowing this place exists and that you are a part of this, would you still choose the life you had over this life you believe is a bad dream?”

While I considered that, she added another flower to the chain she was weaving.

“I don’t know. I—”

“To me, your old life and your dream life are almost the same,” she said. “You still have your friends and your future—and now you have this.” Her tone turned serious. “If you want to know everything, start by accepting what is right in front of you.”

“But Okaasan—”

“Oh, gods!” She sighed and looked up at the shrine. “Could I not have a simple assignment? Perhaps kill an intruder or seal up a gateway?” Then she glared down at me. “Do you know why this is so hard for you?”

“Because you’re not making it very easy?”

“No! It is because you
think
you have a choice!”

I stared up at the shrine, which glowed in the midday sun.

“You will help me?” I said.

She leaned forward and draped the flower chain around my neck. “What do you think I am doing?”

I took in a deep breath. She smelled good.

She smiled. “Thank you.”

“Stop doing that.”

She laughed. “You left your mind’s door wide open again.”

“How come I can’t hear anyone’s thoughts here?”

She shrugged. “Everyone keeps their minds closed. Can you imagine life if everyone could hear your thoughts?”

“I don’t need to imagine it,” I said. “I’ve lived it for sixteen years.”

She stood and offered me her hand, which I took. She tugged hard and managed to get me off the ground.

I spun in a circle, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days—maybe ever.

Shoko smiled. “I believe your heart is now in a place suitable for praying to the gods.”

The staircase, made of thick wooden planks, rose up before me. I suddenly felt so insignificant, like Earth compared with the entire Milky Way.

I started to climb, tentative at first. About halfway up, just as I had in my dream, I stopped and rested my hand on the wooden railing. The ocean, the distant green hills, the valley thick with crops and fruit trees, the straw-roofed houses clustered together—it was exactly as it had been in my dream. I looked toward the little house in the meadow. Shoko stood at the door, her hand shading her eyes. I waved and she waved back.

I resumed my ascent to the top of the stairs. The climb went on and on, the ground far below now. My heart began to pound, and every few steps I paused to fill my lungs. The closer I got to the top, the harder it was to breathe.

I stopped on the last step, the one below the platform where the shrine sat, and gazed at the building. The wood looked old, the pieces fitted together with skill, like nothing I’d seen before. The door was right in front of me.

It was faint at first, a sound so low I didn’t perceive it as anything other than the breeze. Then, as it had in the meadow, the air became a beautiful rush of music, a symphony of peace and joy unlike anything I’d ever known. It swirled around me, increasing in force until I had to lean into it to stay upright.

It overwhelmed me.

The silence made me open my eyes. I was on the ground at the foot of the staircase, sprawled on the gravel. Not a leaf stirred. No child yelled and no dog barked. I pulled in a deep breath, sucking in the clean air until my lungs felt about to burst. As I let the air escape between my lips, sounds of life filled the air once again. I gazed up at the shrine.

Everything was the same—except me. I felt brand new.

Shoko was on her knees beside me, her hands together. When she saw me move, she clapped—two sharp cracks in the stillness.

“You have been gone a while, Junya.”

“Gone where?”

She shrugged. “If you do not know where, then how can you expect me to?”

“I … was I up there?”

An eyebrow went up. “Do not be ridiculous. That is the house of O̅kuninushi.”

“I’m pretty sure I was.”

She stared up the staircase, a perplexed look on her face. Then her eyes widened and she dropped her face to the dirt in a low bow. A moment later, as if she’d been commanded to, she stood and strode toward a small building on the far side of the compound, about where the gift shops were on my side. As I stood to follow, I glanced toward the top of the shrine.

“Thank you, O̅kuninushi,” I whispered.

Shoko emerged from the building with a light-colored bokuto as long as a katana. There were other people in the compound, but no one paid us any attention. When we met in the center of the compound, she swept her kimono between her legs and knelt before me. She handed the bokuto up to me with both hands.

“What’s this?” I asked, in awe of both its beauty and her gesture. I took it from her as if she were handing me a newborn baby. The bokuto had good balance and it was heavy, more like steel than wood. But there was warmth and exceptional smoothness that felt surreal. And I was sure it vibrated—just a little shudder—when I touched it.

“It is
shirakashi
, the hardest Japanese white oak,” Shoko said, “but this one is made from special trees, blessed by the gods.” She smiled up at me. “It is for you.”

I shook my head and tried to hand it back.

“I can’t accept this. I’m not worthy.”

“Our worth is decided by others,” she said. “You would risk offending the gods—or me—by refusing their gift?”

I dropped to my knees and placed the bokuto on the ground in front of me. I bowed, first to thank the gods, then to the bokuto, and finally to Shoko.

“It is our pleasure.”

“Did they tell you to do this?”

She stared at me in silence for a long moment. “The words of the gods can only be heard by the Elders.” She stood up. “Now we will return you to your world—after I get changed.”

“You are getting lighter,” Shoko said as we appeared at the back of the shrine, the one on the ground in modern Izumo. “Are you doing anything different?”

I shrugged. “I was thinking about coming here as you said it—”

Darkness flooded over me, far worse than the last time I’d crossed back. Shoko gripped my hand and I clung to her as negative energy threatened to swallow me. I heard her voice from far above me.

“You do not need me, Junya. Come back.”

I exhaled and the feeling lifted. I opened my eyes to the evening sky.

“How long were we over there?”

Shoko looked around. “A few hours. You have been gone longer here.”

“There’s a difference?”

She gave me an odd look. “Why do you think Tomi is so much younger than Edward now?”

CHAPTER

25

I walked into Grandmother’s house and slid the door closed behind me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scents of Okaasan’s cooking. It reminded me of when I was little, which made this all the more difficult.

I’d left Shoko outside in the alley, holding my bokuto. I needed to do this alone.

“I’m back,” I called from the entryway.

“Welcome back.” A moment later Okaasan came to the door to greet me. She looked innocent enough if you ignored the large white bandage on her arm.

“You were a Gatekeeper.” It wasn’t a question.

She held her breath for a few seconds. “I left all that behind. I’m your mother, nothing more.” Her hands twisted her apron and I stared at the ring on her middle finger.

“If you were a Gatekeeper, what would that make me?”