Please

You know, I never really thought walking could be nerve-wracking. I guess that’s different if you’re doing it across an empty room for the most important event of your life.

Let me set the scene:

It was silent in the temple—and not the nice kind, either. The kind of silence you can only find during a pivotal moment. . . like the ones that will only shape the rest of your life. Every step I took on the ornate flooring echoed through the hall. Was I being loud? Would the Forces deny me my request simply because I didn’t know stealth? The smell of incense filled the room, which was kind of comforting, thankfully. My wrists itched from the fabric chaffing my skin, which told me that I had, in fact, put the cufflink on wrong when preparing for this ceremony.

It’s fine. I mean, I’ve only been waiting twenty-one years for this. Relax.

God, I wish it were that easy.

My eyes fell on the priest at the end of the path. Dressed in a flowing ceremonial cloak of white, he held nothing but a cool gaze as he regarded me, taking in my own perfectly maintained robe—colored a passionate red. To my credit, I only squirmed a little bit under his stare—small victories. I stopped at the steps for his approval. After making me wait for a very long minute, he nodded. Once I was in front of him—definitely not tense at all—he addressed the crowd of watching priests:

“On this sacred day, we give our thanks to the magic beneath our soil. We show our respect to the Forces that allow such wonders to exist.” He grabbed my hand, taking a second to fix the cuffs I’d messed up.

Thank you, priest!

“On this day, we recognize you as a member of our glorious society. So long as the Forces allow it, you shall be blessed with the power every Conjurer is gifted.” The priest locked eyes with me, making my blood pressure rise just a little bit higher. “Note that whatever you conjure will vanish, should you ever try to procure for mere tender. Remember that the Forces do not grant every request given. Do you accept this?”

“I, Hoshino Riku, accept the conditions of the Forces,” I replied, my voice somehow even despite my growing anticipation. “I shall take any denials with grace.”

Just get on with it already! I thought. The wait was killing me.

“Then tell the forces what it is you wish to conjure, from today to forever.”

This was the hard part.

See, my friends had all told me endlessly how ridiculous my idea was; that the Forces would never allow it. I could easily ask to conjure katanas, allowing me to join the military as my father had. Unfortunately, I was hopeless with a sword. I may request the ability to conjure clothing for myself, saving endless time and money later—-but then I’d have to find designs to match it, and that was a lot of work for my mind. Plus, none of those things would truly fulfill me. Besides, what’s life if you never take a risk?

And so, I gathered all my courage, looked the priest dead in the eye and, with the Forces as my witness, told him my wish:

“Toys.”

The look on his face was priceless. “Pardon?” he asked, clearly thinking he’d misheard.

“I, Hoshino Riku, humbly ask the Forces for the ability to conjure toys,” I said, the excitement finally creeping in, causing my voice to waver with it.

“Son,” the priest said gently, “the Forces do not grant requests such as that.”

As if in response, a bright light filled the room, more soothing than blinding. It spread from the temple’s altar back to the sacred ground. It passed the priest to approach me and considered me for a second: my widened eyes, the battle stance my father had drilled into me from childhood, before soaring above me to spread across the room. It pulsed in waves of purples and blues and reds; so many reds. I felt a tingling in my fingers.

I should make something, I found myself thinking. I really want to make something.

“Amazing. . .” the priest said in awe. Ignoring the murmuring of the crowd, he turned to me. “Well, son? Give it a try.”

Sure. Why not? Far be it from me to question my own—slightly jarring— sudden impulses.

I thought I would struggle to think of what to make first, but then an image hit my mind’s eye like a bullet train. I concentrated the image into my fingertips: the white ears, the red markings, and suddenly, the tingling started to push out, like the little magnets I’d played with as a kid: insistent; undeniable. When it was done, my prize waited in my hands, but it didn’t look the way I’d imagined.

Its eyes were a kaleidoscope of night colors from black to purple all the way to blue. The markings on its face looked like a typical Kitsune, spreading from around the eyes. Before I could process anything else, the doll blinked at me—because that’s what all the trendy toys are doing these days. Suddenly, it wasn’t on the floor anymore, instead hovering a foot or so over my hand. It gave a huge yawn, like it had just woken up from a nap.

It’s adorable. . .

“Ahhhhh!” Its voice sounded feminine. I was frowned at, a cock of the head directed at me. “Who are you?”

It’s alive?!

I blinked at it, my calm expression at odds with the confusion in my head. “. . . Huh.”

I mean, what else could I say when the toy I conjured came alive? Do I run away screaming, leaving the priest alone with this. . . whatever it was? What was I supposed to do, here?

It frowned back at me. “Huh?”

“Son,” the priest said suddenly, “It’s alright. Just focus on the tingling in your fingers. That should make it easier to conjure your prize.”

“. . . Huh.”

So he can’t see it. Does that stretch to other toys? I frowned. Can I even call this Kitsune-thing a toy?

With the little creature still observing me, I tried again. This time, I envisioned a lot of colors: blue swirls, pure oranges, cyan fogs. I felt the warmth that would envelop my hands as I held them, solid and secure. In a matter of seconds, I clutched the little spheres in my palms. They looked just like the ones my grandfather had taught me to play with at five. I hadn’t thought about that in a while. I could still hear his voice:

Marbles is more than just a game of smacks, child, he’d said. Marbles is a game of colors, each one fighting for the top spot. That’s what it’s all about, Riku.

I miss you, grandfather.

“Congratulations.” The priest’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, a beaming smile on his face. “May the will of the Forces be on your side.”

The Kitsune followed me out.

“Mister,” it said in that melodic voice. “What is this place?”

She calls me mister. . . I’d never felt so big in my life.

“You’re in Kyoto, Japan, ah. . .” I frowned at the creature. “What’s your name?”

It frowned. “I don’t think I have a name.”

It gasped. “Can I have a name, Mister? Pleeeeease?” How can a creature be so innocent?

Now it was my turn to frown, fisting the marbles in my hand, which hadn’t come to life as of yet. The day was still young, though. “I’m not sure. I’ll be honest, naming a Kitsune wasn’t really on my list of things to expect.”

“Kitsune?” It had the purest frown.

“That’s what you are,” I told it. Then it hit me. “What about Kit?”

“Kit?” The creature tried the name, three of its tails twitching. “Kiiiiiit. I like it!”

It spun around in the air until it was upside down. “Hi! I’m Kit! What’s your name, mister?”

I couldn’t stop the smile if my life depended on it. “You can call me Riku.”

“Okie!” The creature replied, smiling like the angel it had to be. “Don’t worry, Mister Riku! Miss Kit is gonna be the best friend you’ve ever had!”

I put the marbles in my pocket. I’d worry if they also had powers later. . . And maybe find a way to explain the talking toy to my parents, but we’d cross that bridge when we got there. For now, it was time to get to know my new best friend.