Object of Faith

A secret might have been overselling it a little. For him personally, it certainly was something that he didn’t declare. But everyone in the government on both sides knew about his existence, even if his identity wasn’t publicly available. It was important for ongoing relations for his existence. As much as it pained him. In the end, always a tool like everything else.

Yori crossed his arms and leaned back some. “I didn’t think you were that familiar to recognize it.”

“The symbol of the Veil is rather hard to miss.”

Symbol of the Veil was new information for him. Though perhaps Mado had different practices with the Veil than Japan did. “You talking about the array?”

“Yeah, ye can find it anywhere in Mado. Everyone would know the Sacred Symbol. In any other circumstance, I’d think ye were being sacrilegious, but comin’ from your body that can’t be faked. It’s real. Which makes ye a Shinobi.”

He sighed again. “I don’t really like that title. Makes me sound like something I’m not.”

“You’re a Protector, the Guardian of the Planet. One of the chosen by Akasha herself!” There was a surprising amount of furor in her voice that Yori wasn’t expecting. She had been so brusque to deal with that this shift to almost elevated worship felt off. It was unsettling.

“You might be right about that, but today people think of them as ninja, assassins, spies, not how the old ways were.” Though he remembered that Mado was cut away from Japan over a millennium ago, so they held onto different things, it seemed. Her Japanese was largely the same, but he noticed the accent and pronunciation wasn’t identical to Kansai.

She paused in stirring the food. “I see.”

“So I try not to go around shouting my title.”

“I understand. But how did ye become a chosen? Was your eye the price ye had to pay?”

It really wasn’t something that he wanted to get into with her. But there also wasn’t a lot of point in hiding it either. “I can’t tell you a whole lot. My memories of the incident are missing. But when I was eight, there was an incident involving a rogue sorcerer. They murdered my family. The previous Guardian saved me, but as a result, their power was transferred to me. And I lost my eye as a payment.”

“That’s a clear recollection to me.”

“No, that’s what I learned after the fact. There’s only faint images of my parents dead and covering me. Some dark figure over me, and that’s it. Everything else I pulled from files, stole or paid to learn. I was only told a vague bit of what happened by the Saioji or the government. I had to dig for everything I knew.”

“Why would they hide such a thing from ye?”

“As a child, they claimed it was so I didn’t fall back into another episode. Apparently, when I remembered or was explained some of it, the power in my eye went out of control. And you saw what it can do. So it was to protect others, they repeatedly said.”

“But you’re an adult now.”

“Which is why I don’t take no as an answer and find my own.”

“Do ye have a memory erasure spell on ye?”

Yori looked away from her. His chest tightened up. Though he held his words.

“I’m sorry, that was insensitive.”

“No. It’s not a pleasant thing to remember. But possibly, it is one of two conclusions I’ve come to. That I’ve repressed the trauma or they erased it so that I could be normal.” A derisive tone concluded his words. He had plenty of time to think it over. It was only logical to assume that they might have used the spell.

Miho turned her gaze down to the food, distracted. As rough as Yori could be, he looked more vulnerable than she expected. His guard remained up, but it didn’t seem as solid as before. It wasn’t the same eye and face that she was used to seeing before. It was difficult to still be mad.

But her mind hung around his problem. ‘Did he want it removed? I’ve heard of an erasure spell being countered.’ She knew that the Japanese side had more familiarity with the spell due to the secrecy around mana. But even then, the Veil handled most of it for them, just like it did for Mado. It wasn’t a spell that she knew. And she didn’t know if there was someone who could cancel it. Or if anything remained. The function of the spell was never clearly explained to her. It was generally kept a state secret.

“It’s fine. One day I’ll remember it.” He omitted to tell her that the blank was far more expansive. Apart from brief moments in his nightmares, he couldn’t even remember their faces. She already seemed bothered, and the added details were unnecessary for her.

The burning of egg and rice started to hang in her nose. She kicked the pan with her hand to move things around. “And what about the power she gave ye?” Each gift from Akasha was different and unique to the user. During the escape, she was only partially conscious and couldn’t fully process what he did. It wasn’t similar to any other that she had seen.

He tightened up his arms again. The foreseen trouble it was going to give him held his answer. She would definitely yell at him. That much was certain. But she had also seen it. And would probably be expected to use again. ‘I really hate this…’

Her eyes watched and waited for a reply. It wasn’t quite so demanding. However, there was also an intent to listen. “A mana overdose.”

“Overdose?”

“Yeah, it converts the mana in my body to duplicate rapidly to give anyone in the effect an overdose. It’s very draining.”

“But ye can knock anyone out with that. I can’t think of a sorcerer who has a resistance to that.” Every sorcerer had an amount of mana that they could naturally generate on their own within their body. And with aid, it could be further pushed with transfusions from other sorcerers. But like any container, there was a limit to how much someone could hold. Mana overdose was the symptom of surpassing the limit. It was excruciatingly painful to endure and would break most sorcerers.

Even if it did drain him, it was a powerful weapon for him to use. An entire compound could fall to him without even trying. She stared at him. “Why the hell didn’t ye use it sooner?! We wouldn’t have been in that trouble!”

He knew that she was right from that perspective. It was something that he considered. “I try to keep my identity a secret for one. But more importantly, I hate using it.” Flashes of training in the estate, bowing elders, demanding eyes, expectations all ran through him.

“You’re a Protector! A Shinobi! What right do ye have for denyin’ your duty?!”

“That right there.” He stood up and walked over to the couch. He had to be out of her sight. The memories already started to hit him as much as he tried to push them down. They began to curdle in his stomach. He hated it.

Miho only saw it for a brief moment before he turned away. There was darkness over his eye. A black despair that clung to him like a jacket. Yori always had some hints of a void around him. His voice and speech spoke to it. But it was always pushed far down under the surface. He kept it out of reach. Something drew it up just now.

It was her.

She turned off the stove heat. While she had claimed that she was hungry, she made plenty. Taking two plates, she scooped out half for each. Placing the pan back on a cool rack of the stove, she picked up the plates. A momentary glance at the kitchen reminded her of the mess she’d made.

Ignoring that for now, she walked over to the living room. Leaning over the couch, she presented it to Yori. “Sorry.”

A quiet acceptance told that he didn’t hold it against her. She found a seat apart from him. In peace for a first, they ate. No thoughts, no emotions. Everything just pushed aside.

Ignored for now, but not forgotten. Their mission remained unfinished.