The Parcel Without a Name

“I’m home… not like there’s anyone here.” Ryuji muttered when he came back home after the ceremony. The steel door slammed behind him. Unopened boxes stacked neatly on the edge of the room mostly untouched; stacked books, a handful set of clothes and a futon. The mystery parcel sat next to open instant noodle box on the kitchen top.

Ryuji held the parcel in his hands, it had no sender’s address, and it was addressed to "Minato", not even his name. He couldn’t recognize the handwriting either.

"Would have been nice if they wrote my name in it at least." He muttered and gave the parcel a shake. The crumpled newspaper inside crackled, ordinary enough, but something heavier thudded once against the cardboard. Not the light rattle of a charm — denser, metallic. The weight slid awkwardly in his palm, too heavy for junk mail, too sharp for just paper.

He opened the box finally and saw last week's local newspaper and inside a carefully wrapped palm sized broach; very old style, Meiji era perhaps? The frame was made out of bronze and in the middle had Oyster shell inlay with faint pearlescent shimmer shaped like a scale.

His eyes slowly widened with awe as a possibility dawned on him. Meiji era style broach with fancy design like scale shaped oyster inlay? This could be tsukomogami. If it's genuine then it must be over hundred years old. Is this safe to use? Did it undergo purification and the spirit is at peace?

He grabbed the worn book from pile of books — _Foundations of Shinyoryoku, First Edition_ — and flipped to a dog‑eared page. His finger traced the underlined line: “Tsukumogami: objects that gain spirit after a century. Unpurified, they risk possessing the wielder.” He looked at the broach in his palm. He was still himself. A small, guilty thrill tightened his chest.

Excitement swelled within Ryuji. He couldn't wait to bind it at school.

"Thank you, Mom and Dad. Or whoever gifted me this.”

- - -

The Shinyo practicum held between the field and the old building. The low hum of the metro was dampened by the tall steel fence around the training area. Mr. Yamaguchi arrived with a basket full of omamori.

“Today we are going to do a simple binding with your omamori. If you don’t have it, you can use the ones from the shrine.” Teacher Yamaguchi walked around the students with the basket. Ryuji was excited to see what kind of omamori he’s got. He looked over at Yukiharu-san’s side, and she was getting an omamori from the teacher. So did Natsume-san and Fuyuki-san.

“Starting in May, you'll get penalty marks if you don't have your own. It’s like not coming to class without notes." Natsume-san groaned the most she heard penalty marks.

“Neat fact: the omamori from the shrine has kagebi inside. These little buggers can cause accidents on the road by pretending to be traffic lights.“ Ryuji took a mental note.

“Follow as you’ve read in the text books then it’s up to your purity, sincerity and resonance. That takes practice and focus.” Mr. Yamaguchi blew the whistle to start the binding.

Ryuji held the broach in his hand, nervous. His finger trembled and drew kuji-kiri with his right hand and recited the incantation.

"Rin-pyo-to-sha-kai-jini-retsu-zai-zen."

Every line he drew and focused on gave Ryuji a glimpse of a creature. its pearl like scales shimmer in the dark depth of water. It slowly rose to the surface and before it broke the surface, an eye in the inlay opened.

_Young one, you seek the power of the water dragon, then display your determination and shall lend you my scales._ A deep voice reverberated like ripples of water as he focused on the broach.

A single iridescent scale appeared on his hand above the broach, no bigger than the broach itself. Its colors shifted like it was a living thing. The spirit talked to him. He wanted to ask Mr. Yamaguchi whether they talk to you when you bind them. Then he noticed nobody asked that question. maybe it is a normal thing. He shouldn't act too flushed about it. The voice mentioned scales, so that means he can summon more than a single scale. Should he ask how he can summon more?

But there was a problem, holding a single scale felt heavy, or something was pulling him to the earth.

Mr. Yamaguchi was helping Natsume-san with the binding "Natsume-san you have to draw the lines with clear intentions with Pyo then To - don't forget to breathe, now the fingers." He leaned in to correct Natsume's hand. "Minato-san!" He barked.

A blue-white streak of flame hurled towards Ryuji's face. The heat struck his face. He threw his arm out of instinct. The scale shifted and deflected the flame. The flare arced into the sky like a firework without the boom.

“I’m sorry… are you unhurt?” Yukiharu was at his side in a blink. Her movement was too swift to be casual, and her voice came out breathless. Her shadow spilled across him, swallowing the light at his feet. Sound thinned to a distant hum; his breath hitched and his legs locked. Her eyes were knives. Then she blinked. The shadow slid back and replaced it with an apologetic frown on her face. Ryuji's legs gave out from the weight of the scale and relief. He sat on the ground, looking dumb founded. The inlay's eye closed and the scale flickered off. Other students rushed over. Someone swore and Mr. Yamaguchi's whistle blew to calm the crowd.

Natsume and Fuyuki rushed over.

“I lost control,” she said, holding out a pale, porcelain hand. Before Ryuji could take it, someone stepped in. Masaki’s calloused palm closed on Ryuji’s elbow and hauled him upright in one smooth motion. Fuyuki and Yukiharu exchanged a quick look—sharp, unreadable—then he let go.

“Hana‑chan, are you okay? And you… um—Minami‑san? Are you okay?” Natsume rushed over, cheeks flushed. Her eyes lingered at Fuyuki and Yukiharu before a smirk rose in her lips.

“It’s Minato,” Ryuji said, voice small. “Thanks, Natsume‑san.”

He felt Fuyuki’s hand linger at his elbow a heartbeat longer than necessary. It made the air between Yukiharu and Fuyuki feel tighter, like a string pulled taut.

“You already know my name! Oh, that’s so pretty. Is that your charm? Show me how to bind mine - Hana‑chan and Ko‑chan are terrible teachers.”

Mr. Yamaguchi moved through the circle and stopped at Yukiharu-san’s omamori; the seal was cracked. “Yukiharu‑san, be gentle with the spirits, or they’ll break away in resentment.”

“Mr. Yamaguchi, may I rest? I’m not feeling well…” Hanako sank to the threshold of the training ground.

Ryuji guided Natsume-san's fingers again, steadying her breath. She couldn’t quite get the second line right, but she laughed at every small success. He didn’t bind the brooch afterward; its inlay had felt wrong, heavy in his palm. Hanako’s stare, though — it lingered at the edge of his vision, and it felt like a cold hand at the back of his neck.