Chapter 2

"A-a-ah!"

I flew screaming into the wall.

"Disgusting," Ayu stated flatly. "Third year, and you're blocking attacks as if you've never studied at the Gozen School."

"That was unexpected," I panted, getting to my feet and rubbing my bruised shoulder.

I had been flying around the hall for about an hour. Ayu was testing my reaction time and strength and was openly angry that I couldn't control the ryoku I had received. It was a strange situation: a savage who had acquired a car but had no idea how to start it. In the end, all she could do was run around in circles, screaming, "Ooh-ha-ha, ooh-hoo-hoo!" and nothing more.

After warm-ups, Ayu had scheduled a training session for me in the hall.

After somehow getting through my classes, receiving approval in calligraphy and a dressing down from the mentalist, Mr. Yachiharo, I grabbed a quick bite, waved to my friends, promising to tell them everything that evening, and raced off to Ayu.

The teacher, who looked more like a dancer than a fighter, struck with immense force. It was true what they said: true strength wasn't in bulky muscles.

A red light enveloped Ayu's palm. By now I had figured out that red was the color of the Yuichi Clan; their ryoku only had this color.

"Attack," she ordered curtly.

Weaver and the other gods of this world, at least help me not to embarrass myself. Although, in my mind, I knew there wasn't much to count on. Aska's body wasn't weak, but it still needed work.

So my attack was met with a block. Ayu twisted, swept my legs, and knocked me onto the mat.

"Not a bad strike," she unexpectedly approved. "But your focus is completely ruined. For the love of everything, what were your teachers doing that you can't gather ryoku in a single point?"

How should I know? I'd love to look those teachers in the eye. One thing was clear: it wasn't Ayu. By the way, this was interesting! Where had the previous teachers gone? Maybe they rotated somehow?

She knelt beside me, took a lotus position, and looked at me thoughtfully.

"You're a walking contradiction, Aska. One minute you're performing miracles, the next you can't do something basic."

I was on my guard. Miracles? What was she talking about? I glanced at Ayu, who smiled with the corners of her lips. Did she know more about saving Miya than she was supposed to? Or did she believe the little girl's words?

"What do you have to say for yourself?" she didn't let me think properly.

"Hormones, instability, a nasty personality," I mumbled.

Ayu burst out laughing:

"My, look at you. Well, if that's the case... the night in the temple did you good. Just make sure not to offend anyone in the future. Knowing you belong to a clan is a reason to be proud, but saying that others aren't fit to tie your shoes is too much."

"I was an idiot; I admit my fault," I didn't try to argue.

After all, I still had to live here and complete the Weaver's tasks. That's what would allow me to deal with my past and not miss out on the present. Which meant... it meant agreeing that it was unwise to rant about clans.

"It really was the temple..." Ayu muttered under her breath. "Okay, that's enough for today. We'll alternate between training and meditation; right now your thoughts are jumping around like a rabid tsumi. Get up."

I rose after the teacher. Before leaving, I turned and asked, "How many students do you have?"

Ayu seemed surprised by the question but answered, "You'll be the tenth, Aska."

"Thank you," I nodded.

So, was ten a lot or a little?

Deep in thought, I made my way to the dorms and entered our room. Haruka wasn't there, and Misaki was hunched over a sheet of paper, tracing hieroglyphs. What did she have there? Snake. It looked a bit crooked...

I froze behind Misaki's shoulder, frowning and examining the lines. My friend stopped and raised her head.

"Yes, yes, I remember how Tehiko praised you today. And I was only told sternly that I needed to work harder."

I smiled:

A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

"We're all good at some things and like frogs in a pond at others. I can't even tsumi at mentalism. You heard how Yachiharo scolded me."

"I did," she sighed. "That old coot is terribly boring. Tehiko's a lot gentler. If you don't understand, she'll explain it until even the dumbest person gets it. Even Satu..."

"What about Satu?" I raised an eyebrow.

Misaki giggled:

"Are you kidding? She barely passed calligraphy. As good as Satu is at ryoku technique, she's just as bad at calligraphy. Her kanji come out dead and don't want to move."

I forgot what I was just thinking about, trying to figure out what was more shocking. That Satu was inept at something, or that kanji were supposed to move?

The unfinished hieroglyph stared at me slyly from the paper. My fingers literally itched to try and write something. Tehiko talked about infusing symbols with ryoku, so this must be it, right?

"Stand up," I asked.

Misaki looked at me suspiciously.

"Listen, Aska, I don't like the look in your eyes. Usually, trouble follows that look."

"There won't be any trouble," I assured her, flopping onto a cushion and placing my hands on the low table. "I promise."

The hieroglyph beckoned, drew me in, calling with a thousand silent voices. For some reason, everything else faded into the background. There was only one goal: to finish the necessary strokes, to breathe in ryoku, to make the writing come to life.

I picked up the brush, twirled it between my fingers, like a painter contemplating the first stroke. I brought it to the paper and made the first dot.

And then something thundered in the courtyard.

Misaki ran to the window, but I didn't pay attention. My task was to finish the kanji.

"See the goal, ignore the obstacles," my inner voice whispered.

I drew the brush upward. I dipped it into the ink, noticing how blue sparks flared in it, as if someone had spilled glitter into the inkwell. But they shone purely and mesmerizingly, with no cheap effect. A line, another line. I swirled the tail, making the intersection exactly where a short beam went to the left.

"Aska..."

Misaki was saying something, but I couldn't hear. It was important for me to finish this kanji and move on to the next. And to control my breathing: exhale-inhale, exhale-inhale, exhale... hold my breath while the line curved, inhale, then hold my breath again so the line was perfectly straight. Because the result depended on the execution.

My heart began to pound in my chest like crazy. There was a ringing in my ears. All of space narrowed to the slightly yellowish sheet on which my hand was already tracing the second kanji. The ink flared with a sapphire flame.

It became harder to breathe. It felt as if someone had simply thrown a lit match into the room, and the whole room had inexplicably caught fire.

But I continued to draw line after line; my arm muscles were tense to the limit. Misaki touched my shoulder and shrieked, yanking her hand back sharply.

"What does it mean?" my thoughts raced wildly. Snake. Clan. But I don't know the third kanji. It's something I don't understand. I have a strange feeling I've seen it somewhere before, but where..."

Meanwhile, my hand was tracing the lines smoothly and skillfully. Unlike my mind, it knew what to do. As soon as I drew the last line, I almost fell onto the paper, as if all my strength had vanished in an instant.

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A silence reigned for a while. Hearing and sight slowly returned, and the strange stupor that had prevented me from doing anything but writing the kanji was practically gone.

I turned around. Misaki was frozen by the door. Fear and confusion were written all over her face.

"What happened?" I asked hoarsely.

And then I followed my friend's gaze and involuntarily shuddered. A snake was slowly slithering out of the corner where our beds stood. Its forked tongue flickered in its half-open maw; a shiver ran down my body from its hiss. Its eyes were like the purest sapphires, huge and eerie. But the most terrifying thing was that the snake was simply enormous. It could swallow me whole and not choke. It wasn't here before! Where did it come from? Another tsumi?

Misaki stood as if enchanted: she couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't turn and run out.

Trying not to make any sudden movements, I rose cautiously and smoothly. The snake was watching me. It hissed again, arched its body, and at that moment, it dawned on me that it had a hood behind its head, like a...

"A cobra!" the realization came to me. "The third kanji is cobra!"

I was overcome with a sense of relief, as if I had found the key to a door with a super-complex lock. Snake. Cobra. Clan. I needed to figure out what that meant and why it had literally lifted a weight from my heart.

"Aska?" Misaki's voice was trembling. "What are we going to do? If it attacks, there won't be any bones left."

I narrowed my eyes. If...

"We need to make sure it doesn't attack," I said in a completely calm tone.

If it worked with the tsumi, it would work with a big snake, too. Somewhere on the edge of my consciousness, a thought flashed that I was too self-confident, but... my intuition told me it would work out.

The snake slowly rose. At some point, its eyes were level with mine. Something inside me tingled—a feeling that had once been fear. Now it had transformed into adrenaline, thrill, and a desperate need to prove to everyone, and to myself first and foremost, that I wasn't afraid.

"You called it," Misaki breathed out almost inaudibly. "Which means it won't leave."

The snake moved toward me.

Well, we'll see about that. Who will win. Blood bubbled in my veins.

"I called you," I said clearly and almost in a singing voice, as if I were reciting a spell. "I called you, and I'll send you back."

The snake twitched as if it had felt something. I fought the temptation to hold out my palm. No, I had to do it differently. Only eye to eye. This wasn't a tsumi. This creature came at my call. Though it hadn't figured out yet that it wasn't getting a snack.

Strength was boiling in my body. The same strength I had felt when I talked to the Weaver.

"You follow orders," I said evenly. "You were called—you came. You were told—you did. You have fulfilled your purpose—now you go back."

An indignant hiss was the reply.

"No arguing," I breathed out. "You're told—you do."

For some reason, Misaki went pale.

The snake lashed its tail, then spun around on its axis, shot me a malevolent look, and slithered back into the corner from which it had appeared.

Unable to move, we watched as the enormous body disappeared into a crack, the black tail was pulled in, and then the crack sealed itself up, as if it had never been there.

Only when the summoned creature had left us did I realize that my hands were trembling, I felt faint, and my knees were about to buckle. I looked at Misaki; she was staring at me like I was a monster.

"What?" the word involuntarily escaped my lips.

"Who are you, Aska?" Misaki's voice was filled with terror. "Who are you, for crying out loud, and why, instead of the human words blessed by the Weaver, do you make a snake's hiss?"