For my girl, I will sneeze, train, smudge smudge smudge. And do it all again

The following day, training officially began. Mornings were designated for Japanese ritual and spiritual practices. Kanna was my teacher. My senpai. But I mainly just stuck with calling her my sensei.

Our day usually started out with a little trek in the forest, while Sakuya and Ash were off on their morning patrol. We would walk in mostly awkward silence, until reaching a clearing where we would spend the next 30 minutes in meditation. No talking, no getting up to go do anything. Just sitting. With our eyes closed. Listening to the forest around us. To the wildlife. To the streams.

It was boring. And kind of hard to focus. I constantly fought the urge to get up and stretch my legs, and continuously breathing in the incense Kanna sometimes brought with her would eventually make my nose stuffy.

I would start to sneeze like a maniac. Non-stop. Kanna would offer to halt the ritual and return to the temple, but I would always refuse. Compared to what Sakuya sacrificed for me to remain comfortably in her life—which was basically everything she had—I was getting the easy way out. So no matter how many times I sneezed, no matter how many times it looked like I was going to die from sheer boredom, Kanna is never to stop the ritual, as the show must go on.

...

Afternoons were times I trained with the samurai. In hand-to-hand combat. These were also where I mastered control over my transformations.

With a single clap of my hands, I would become Ogun, the war god of blood and iron. Or Anansi, the spider god of webs and trickery. Or Shango, the spirit warrior of thunder and fire. Transforming in and out of my spirit forms was the easy part. It was staying in spirit form for longer than five minutes that was the problem.

"Release the Jumogun!"

I was standing in the middle of the temple courtyard, with the samurai spirit also standing some distance away in front of me. Shiun had just returned from school, and the little purple-haired girl had rushed out to spot me while I trained with the samurai. At her command, I clapped my hands together and instantly transformed into Ogun, the war god. Eight feet tall, reinforced copper skin, and hair as long as snakes.

"Woohoo!"

The drills were mainly done to help me improve my reaction time, speed, and the unique special abilities and skill set for each individual spirit form. Ogun had a special move called the Thunder Drop, Battering Ram, and an ability where he is able to craft whatever weapon he wanted from thin air. The Orisha of Storms can summon a whip made out of lightning, call upon tornadoes, hurricanes, and she's able to move like the wind in terms of speed and agility. Mbombo is the god of reality manipulation, able to freeze and unfreeze time itself.

It was certainly fun learning about the different gods from my West African mythology and their capabilities, but I was usually only able to learn so much before my body gave out each time from exhaustion.

...

Evenings were scheduled for Spirit Ink training and practice. Learning to draw protective symbols on talismans and ofuda paper. Ash was my mentor on this one. Before we began the first lesson, the white-haired girl had approached and apologized to me.

"Jumo-san, I just want to apologize before we begin." She bowed her head as she spoke. I was a bit taken aback, as it took me a second to remember what she was talking about.

"I called you a beggar in the presence of Elder Safina—not to devalue you, but to protect you," Ash said, straightening up. "If I hadn't done so, I fear what the elder spirit would have done to you."

"Hey, it's okay, alright?" I said, shaking my head and waving my hands. "You were trying to protect me. I get that now. So please don't worry about it."

I saw the moment her shoulders relaxed. It must have been something that had been really weighing on her mind, and she really wanted to clarify.

I continued talking.

"If anything," I said, "I should be the one apologizing to you for the way I reacted."

I performed a bow.

"I'm sorry for the harsh language I used against you, and I hope you can forgive me, Ash-san."

When I straightened back up, I found her smiling nervously and nodding her head in acceptance. Which caused me to smile awkwardly in response.

...

Our lessons together mainly consisted of me imitating her. She dips her brush into a cup of sparkling black ink, I dip my brush into a cup of sparkling black ink. She draws a line on the canvas in front of her, I draw a line on the canvas in front of me. Her drawing starts to take shape forming a sacred symbol, my drawing starts to do the opposite of that. Smudges. So many smudges.

It took a few tries, but eventually I started to get the hang of it. It was slow going, but I was making progress. I was gradually becoming the man that could support my wife, Sakuya, in all aspects of her life. Physical, spiritual, and emotional. And those alone mattered the most to me.

Because she alone mattered the most to me.