Chapter Six: Tragedy Hidden Behind A Legend

The car ride was long, despite the short distance to our destination. Not surprising, given the underlying tension always between my mother and me. I spent the entire time fretting over whether she'd make some remark about my actions this morning or anything else she found objectionable. I wanted nothing more than for things to stay quiet and uneventful during our remaining time together. Silence meant my mother and her husband had nothing to complain about; things were going how they wanted. That's all that mattered to them or me.

It was about eight-thirty in the morning when the car finally stopped in front of a small local history museum near the center of town. I felt a sharp sense of relief, knowing the ride was over.

"Thank you for driving me," I said with gratitude, grabbing the strap of my bag and opening the car door to get out as fast as possible.

"Himiko."

I froze, then felt my shoulders droop as dread consumed me.

Why did she stop me? Was she angry with me for snapping at her earlier this morning after all?

The grip I had on the door handle tightened as panic set in, my thoughts shifting to the other things plaguing my mind recently.

Did she overhear the false rumors of my involvement with Umemiya and his gang? Maybe she found out Manta's attending Funbari Junior High and wants to know why he thought it was okay to talk to me at school? Even worse, what if she learned of the shaman boy?!

Heart pounding in my chest, I spoke without glancing at her, fearing what she'd say. "Yes?"

"Your father and I can't pick you up tonight. We have a crucial meeting to attend later this evening. I've put food in the fridge for you and Keisuke to eat when you get back home. Just heat it up on the stove."

I let her words sink in before speaking. "Yes. Thank you. Sorry for the inconvenience."

I should've expected something like this. She had already taken far too much time out of her busy schedule to cater to my selfish request. In fact, I'm surprised she even agreed. She had more important things to do than to act as my chauffeur. It's only because of sheer desperation that I gathered enough courage to ask.

At least she isn't angry.

Relieved and knowing our conversation was over, I climbed out of the vehicle. She pushed on the gas the moment I shut the door, causing me to cough as exhaust filled my lungs. Once the air cleared, I stared at the retreating car while she drove away. The apprehension that had taken its hold on me faded once it disappeared from view, allowing me to relax and take in the surrounding area.

The sun was high in the sky, illuminating everything with its bright, warm light. Feeling the dampness already permeating the air, I let out a sigh and frowned. The current pervading warmth was only a precursor to the scorching heat predicted to become prevalent later today. In fact, according to the weather forecast, the temperature will continue to worsen during the upcoming week.

Summer was upon us…

Chirping birds flew overhead as I walked over to a nearby tree and sat on the ground in the cool shade to wait for the museum to open. Although the likelihood of Umemiya, Manta, or the shaman boy finding me here was slim, I kept an eye out just in case.

Thirty minutes passed before an old man wearing brown coveralls rode up to the building on a bicycle. He stopped near the front doors and climbed off his bike while juggling with the broom in his hand. I stood and stepped over to him when he pulled out a large metal ring with at least a dozen keys, realizing he was an employee. A smile appeared on his wrinkled face when he took notice of me.

"Hello. Have you taken an interest in this town's history?"

"You could say that. My teacher gave everyone a homework assignment, and I came here for more information."

"Oh?" he replied with curiosity. "Who are you researching?"

"Ayumi Sohma."

His smile widened. "You're in luck. We have an extensive collection of artifacts covering her life on the second floor. Allow me to escort you there."

"Thank you."

He unlocked the entrance doors and held one open for me before I stepped into the building.

It was dark inside, except for the soft natural light coming through the glass behind us. Paneling covered the rest of the windows to protect the precious relics from the sun. Once he flipped on the lights, we walked down a short hallway until we entered a large room. As I looked around at the artifacts, my gaze landed on an old rusty sword lying in one of the display cases. A small ancient drawing of a familiar figure was right next to it.

"Amidamaru," I whispered with silent dread.

The world is against me today. If I'd known that this was here, I would have stuck to my history books. I wanted to forget what happened, not be reminded of it.

"Have you heard the legend?" the man asked, noticing I'd stopped walking.

I glanced at him. "Legend?"

"Amidamaru disobeyed his shogun and killed the hundreds of people who came after him without any mercy. His deeds earned him the reputation of being known as the Devil. It is said that Amidamaru loved this katana so much he was able to wield it as if it were part of his own body."

That doesn't surprise me, given the incredible swordsmanship he displayed the other night. Anyone who faced off against him would be hard-pressed to defeat someone with his prowess. I only knew one person capable of wielding a sword as he did.

"I'm sure Harusame is happy that you've taken an interest," he said, thankfully breaking my train of thought.

"What do you mean?" I asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

How could an inanimate object become happy?

"There's a rumor that Harusame sheds tears at night. It is said that even sniffling sounds can be heard."

What?!

He continued speaking, oblivious to the stiffening of my body as panic flowed through me. "A katana is the spirit of a samurai, after all. There must be a strong bond between Amidamaru and Harusame. If possible, I wanted it to be placed next to his tombstone." His eyes landed on me as he gave another smile. "Well, at least someone came by. Why don't you be Harusame's companion in place of Amidamaru? Harusame will surely be happy."

I blinked at him as he walked away, flustered, bewildered, and horrified by the peculiar request. A frown appeared on my lips as I looked back at the sword.

Great. Just perfect. Did someone curse me in another life? All I wanted to do was finish up my report. I don't need someone to ask me to hang around a crying sword. If the rumors are true, something or someone is haunting it. Furthermore, it would only remind of what happened in the cemetery.

I shouldn't stay here. I need to finish my assignment and leave as soon as possible.

Deciding to put distance between myself and the sword, I followed the man. When we reached the second floor, my gaze landed on an ancient portrait of a beautiful pale-skinned Miko. She was sitting in a plain wooden chair, her long raven hair moving behind her in the breeze. The hidden emotions swirling through her chocolate brown eyes drew me towards the painting, although they also made me uncomfortable.

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"She's stunning, isn't she?"

"Yeah."

I pried my eyes away from her and read the metal placard adhered to the wall.

Ayumi Sohma 1000 A.D.

"Ayumi was a Miko and talented healer, capable of treating the worst of ailments. She predicted a great catastrophe and saved this town from certain ruin one thousand years ago. Her accomplishments gained her the well-earned reputation of being known as a savior. Although the praise she acquired came at a terrible price. Legend has it she sacrificed her own life to save everyone.

"There was a large procession to mourn her death. The people she protected erected a memorial near her burial place to honor her, but its location remains to be found. Whether it became forgotten with time or destroyed, no one knows. However, there is one thing I know for certain. Whenever I look into her eyes, my heart tells me there's more to her and the story than meets the eye. In fact, they mirror your own."

Mine?

His statement made me uneasy, and I didn't dare glance over at him while we stood next to each other in silence.

"Well," he said, breaking the stillness that had formed between us, "I'll let you get on with your research. I need to do a few things."

"Yes. Thank you."

As we parted ways, I walked over to the closest bench and pulled out a notebook and pen from inside my school bag. Glancing around the spacious floor, I realized every artifact on display pertained only to the woman I was researching. Given her importance to the town, it wasn't unexpected. At least it gave me more content to work with.

No one bothered me as I took notes and focused on my report. Much of the information encompassed what I'd already read in history books while expanding upon a few things. I discovered more about the period, which gave me a better understanding of the general political climate. Famine was rampant, and the people suffered because of the ruling aristocrats' inability to manage the country's money and providences. Only a select few prospered. By one thousand A.D., the government lost its capability of issuing currency, and money began disappearing. I also learned a few other things about Ayumi's life, but nothing regarding her origins. Her sacrifice and kind deeds outshined everything else.

Before I realized it, hours had passed.

Engrossed in my studies, I didn't catch sight of the electric clock hanging on the wall until it was late enough the sun had set. Worried, I stuffed everything inside my bag and rushed toward the exit of the museum while praying nothing would happen. At the bottom of the stairs, my sneakers squeaked against the polished floor while I ran forward, desperate to escape.

Trepidation surged through me as I approached the doorway leading into the room where the Harusame was located. I stopped a few feet before it, dreading the sight that might greet me.

Maybe I should look for another exit. It would be easier than dealing with a haunted sword.

An ominous growl came from the room, causing me to jump.

What was that?!

"Y-Yoh?"

The trembling voice made my brain clear for a moment.

No way… Manta?

I peered around the corner to confirm my suspicions, only to be taken off guard.

My cousin and the shaman boy were occupying a bench in front of the katana. Manta was lying on his side, propped up and staring at the boy sitting next to him with wide eyes. Between them was an enormous book he'd no doubt been using as a pillow until the eerie growl woke him up.

Why are they here?! For crying out loud, I'm even in a museum! Shouldn't they be doing something else with their free time? It's not normal for thirteen-year-old boys to visit a place like this during the weekend!

The shaman boy rubbed his stomach and looked over at him. "I'm hungry. Wanna go buy something?"

What?

Manta fell to the floor in disbelief as I stared at the two boys with an incredulous expression.

When the hell did they become such close friends?

The smaller boy stood, body shaking with irritation. "Are you trying to use me as your servant?"

"Well, actually, I don't have any money."

"Jeez. Besides—" Sheer terror spread across his features as he turned his attention to the Harusame. "W-what time… is it?"

An all-consuming, ice-cold air had wrapped around us like a blanket, causing the hairs at the back of my neck to stand on end. Seconds later, the sound of dripping water reached my ears. I hesitantly looked over at the Harusame, noticing a large puddle had gathered underneath it. The spirit haunting the Harusame had made its appearance.

Why do these two keep putting me in these situations?

"I-it's crying!" Manta exclaimed, hiding behind the bench and shaking in fear with his eyes glued to the katana. "The Harusame's crying!"

"Look carefully," the shaman said as he stood. "It's not the Harusame that's crying. It's that man."

A large, muscular man was sitting on top of the display case. Head bowed, his face was contorted in pain as tears streamed down his cheeks. He had shoulder-length brunette hair held back in a low ponytail, keeping it away from his chiseled face. It was clear from his traditional Japanese clothes he was from ancient times.

"I-it has shown itself!" Manta yelled, flailing his arms.

His head shot up as he stared at them, his brown eyes wide in shock. "W-what do you mean, shown itself? You can see me?"

"Yeah, clearly," Manta answered, close to tears.

The spirit turned his back to us and wiped his eyes. "This isn't good. I'm embarrassed that you saw that."

"You don't have to be embarrassed," the young shaman replied with an understanding smile. "When a man cries, there's a good reason behind it. Isn't that right?"

The man spun around, his body tense. "What's going on? Who are you people?"

"I'm Yoh. This is my friend, Manta."

"H-hi," Manta replied, still afraid.

"I'm Mosuke, a swordsmith."

"Mosuke? That's some old name," Yoh said in a relaxed manner.

"It's from six hundred years ago!" Mosuke shouted, raising his fist into the air. "Of course it's old!"

Yoh laughed. "Oh, that's right."

"Six hundred years?" Manta asked. "That's during the same era as Amidamaru's legend."

"Do you know Amidamaru?" Mosuke demanded, an intimidating look on his face.

Manta shrieked in fear and hid his face behind the bench.

"A little," Yoh said. "By the way, why are you haunting the Harusame? That's Amidamaru's katana, isn't it?"

Mosuke lowered his head, looking down with torment. "This is also my katana. The Harusame was forged by me."

"No way!" Manta exclaimed. "Then Amidamaru—"

"Yes, I know him well. I was the one who killed him."

His distressing words made my chest tighten as I focused on the heart-wrenching guilt in his expression.

He killed him?

Manta yelled out in surprise, breaking me from my thoughts and causing me to almost scream myself. "That devil?!"

"Idiot!" Mosuke roared in anger.

My cousin screamed.

"Don't..." Mosuke said, sobbing once more. "Don't you dare call him a devil! He's... He's not like..."

"Yeah, Amidamaru isn't an evil being," Yoh agreed. Mosuke's eyes widened in surprise. "Mosuke, tell me, what happened six hundred years ago? What's the relationship between you and Amidamaru?"

"He's... Amidamaru is... my one and only true friend..."

His gaze became distant as he began to tell his tragic tale.

"It was a miserable era. War didn't know how to stop. Great starvation. Terror from bandits. People were mercilessly killed. In that kind of living hell, we lived to make our dreams come true.

"We wandered until we captured the interest of a local shogun. He'd discovered the Harusame and asked to meet with us. Impressed by my skills, he offered to hire us. We were both overjoyed. But in the end,"—he sighed, his expression turning grim—"Hell was still Hell. The shogun, driven by greed, asked Amidamaru to kill me to stop another sword like it from being created. Amidamaru told me as soon as he could. I asked him to kill me, knowing he could not disobey his order, but he refused, telling me to run instead."

Desperation flowed through his eyes while he replayed the awful events in his mind, slouching as he clenched his hands into tight fists and stared at them.

"I tried to reason with him, knowing what fate had in store for him if I complied, but he insisted." His face softened. "He wanted to save me, no matter the cost. In return for his kindness and unyielding friendship, I asked him to give me the Harusame. I wanted to create for him the finest sword. I said I would forge it in half a day, making plans to meet with him the next night to give it to him. We shook hands, promising each other we would meet again before parting ways."

Mosuke paused, eyebrows furrowing and eyes filled with a myriad of painful emotions, some easy to spot and others indiscernible.

"Those were the last words we exchanged."

"The last?" Manta asked.

"Yeah," Mosuke replied with a frown. "There was someone spying on us at the site. He reported to the shogun. I was killed, and that night... Amidamaru became a legend. Because of his powerful battle techniques, he was nicknamed the Devil. However, without the Harusame, Amidamaru eventually ran out of strength. And..."

He died.

Mosuke clutched the sides of his head and wept, continuing to speak with anguish. "If I didn't exist, he wouldn't have died! It's the same as killing him myself! Him being called the Devil is all my... So until I give him the Harusame as I promised... I can't rest in peace!"

An unfulfilled promise, forgotten with time. A guilty conscience.

The heartbreaking tale struck a chord deep within me; his misery was all too familiar. I stepped backward and firmly placed my back against the wall, trying to ground myself and rein in unwanted memories of the past before they burst forth.

Why did they come tonight? Why did I have to hear this?

"Then go give it to him," Yoh suggested.

"Yeah!" Manta agreed, voice sounding as though he was crying. "Amidamaru is waiting for you, too! He's been waiting for six hundred years in the promised place!"

"What?!" Mosuke asked in surprise.

"Well, let's go," Yoh said.

"That is… impossible," Mosuke replied with hopelessness. "The Harusame being in this condition... And to see his face now..."

How can he bear to see Amidamaru now with the guilt of his death weighing upon his conscience?

"It's okay. Leave it to me," Yoh declared. "I'm a shaman. One who connects this world and the otherworld."

"A shaman?!"

"Use my body, Mosuke. Then make the finest katana."

"Is such a thing possible?!"

"Yeah, it's possible. Let's go, Mosuke! Mosuke, Spirit Ball Mode!" I clenched my hands into tight fists, trying not to envision what was happening in the other room. "Over-Soul Merge! Mosuke!"

There was a moment of silence as they became one.

When Yoh spoke again, he had a different tone to his voice. "Did you say your name was Manta? Take me to the nearest iron factory."

Their footsteps echoed against the walls as they walked toward the exit. I waited until the doors opened, then stepped out from my hiding place. Manta and Yoh's moonlit silhouettes were discernable as they made their way toward a place where Mosuke could repair the Harusame.

A sigh of relief came from my lips when they faded from view. "Finally, I can go home."

And forget everything that happened tonight.