IT’S A COMMON mistake to assume that someone is weak because they are accommodating. If you think this, you might be the type who has no idea how much effort—how much strength—it takes to put up with your nonsense.
Yumi wasn’t weak. She wasn’t a pushover. Don’t assume fragility where you should see patience. Beyond that, she did have her limits.
They had just been reached.
“I’ve served you all my life!” Yumi said, standing tall. “I’ve given everything to you!”
The spirit blinked. And, well, Yumi hadn’t intended to make an outburst. I think that is rather part of the definition. The words simply gushed out.
“I made a mistake!” she said. “I somehow worked too hard yesterday. Is that why you decided to rise? Why you demanded my help, then took my shape? Is that what this is? Punishment? You’re here to embarrass me! You know how someone like me is to act. You decreed it! So the sole reason you’d grab that bowl and start eating is to humiliate me!”
Yumi finished, sucking in deep gasps, filled with a remarkable species of anger. She’d never let herself act like this before. One might have assumed it to be refreshing, but for her, it was more… inevitable. You dropped a brick and it fell. You dropped a flower and it floated. You pushed a person too far and…well, they exploded. Like a steamwell. The pressure had to go somewhere.
She squeezed her eyes shut, hands making fists, and braced herself. She wasn’t certain what happened when you defied the spirits in such a terrible, insolent way. There were all kinds of implications of course, but few explicit answers. An ordinary person could have escaped with only some bad luck, but she was a yoki-hijo.
She expected to be ripped to pieces. Perhaps to be compressed to the size of a marble. Maybe she’d be fortunate and the spirit would merely curse her to spit lizards when she tried to talk. But she couldn’t have stopped the outburst. She was exhausted, sore,
overwhelmed.
She waited. An uncomfortably long time.
Then finally, the spirit spoke.
“Let’s pretend,” it said, “that I’m not a spirit like you think I am. How bad would that be?”
Yumi cracked one eye. He sat there, a piece of rice sticking to his cheek. As soon as he noticed she’d opened her eye, he puffed up a little, sitting straighter, and made a strange face. As if…nauseated?
She couldn’t read it.
“I don’t understand,” she said.
“I wish that I did,” he said. “But I’m not a spirit. I’m a person.
Granted, a mysterious one.”
“Mysterious?”
“Incredibly,” he said. “Look, I don’t know what this place is or why I’m here. But I think…I might be from another planet.” He winced when he said it. “Does that sound crazy?”
She cocked her head.
“That star in the sky?” he said, standing up and pointing at the window. “The one you called the daystar? I’m from there. Maybe. It’s
my best theory.”
“You’re…human?”
“A hundred percent.”
“Born from a mother?”
He nodded.
“You eat? You sleep? You…deposit the spirits’ gifts back into the
ecosystem to be reused?”
“Excuse me?” he said.
Yumi was barely listening. Was it possible she’d gotten this wrong?
Well, of course. She was, as has been established, exhausted, sore, overwhelmed. Not the best state of mind for logical thought.
She reflected on what had happened the night before: The spirit talking to her, saying it was trapped. Asking her to free it. It hadn’t sounded angry at her weakness. It had said, There is one who can help you.
“They sent you,” Yumi whispered. “They sent you to help me! The spirits are in danger. There are stories like this—great heroes tasked with quests by the spirits.” Her eyes widened. “They needed a boon from me. They needed my body? I couldn’t do what they needed, so they’ve put you in my place… Tell me, are you a great warrior among your kind? The people of the daystar?”
He considered a moment. Longer than she’d have predicted. He was humble, evidently. Finally he nodded. “Yes. I’m among the greatest.”
Her state made some sense then. The spirits had no substance until she called them. It stood to reason that in taking her form for this hero, they had given her a form as insubstantial as a spirit herself.
She could feel her nightdress, but nothing else. Even the floor beneath her feet seemed to have no substance. She wasn’t certain how she walked or moved on it.
“My attendants will return soon, hopefully,” Yumi said. “Tell them what has happened.” She reached out absently to take his hand in supplication. “They will know how to help. Please, we must…” She trailed off as her hand touched his.
She felt an immediate shiver, like when she stepped into cool water —but heat followed. Warmth flooded her, moving up her fingers in a rush, accompanied by an almost electric tingling. It surged through her, overwhelming her, driving away all other thoughts, feelings, and sensations.
When she’d touched the blanket, she’d felt nothing. Not even a tingling as her fingers passed through. The same when her attendants had walked through her.
But this other effect was completely unexpected. She let go and jumped back, sucking in a breath, sweat prickling on her brow. He gaped at his hand, and his posture made it obvious he’d felt it too. A connection between her spirit and her body, perhaps? She found it difficult to speak for a moment, gasping for air—though without a body, that metaphor didn’t quite work. But when she looked at him, she felt like she was blushing all the way from her toes to the roots of her hair.
All right, she thought. Maybe don’t touch him. It is…distracting.
“That was crazy,” he said. “Touching you was like touching a raw hion line…”
She backed away, embarrassed. “Maybe,” she said, “I could go see what’s happening in the town? It’s possible that in my current state, I might be able to communicate with the spirits.”
“Sure. Um, I mean…a valiant suggestion.”
She nodded and hesitantly stepped out of the wagon. She had slept barefoot and was worried about not having clogs, but her feet didn’t feel the ground’s heat. Only a yard past the door, however, she felt a sudden pulling sensation. She was unable to move any farther, as if she was tethered to him. She backed up, then tried running to escape the pull—but when she hit the edge of it she was yanked backward, as if on an elastic rope.
She spun and stumbled into the wagon. He stepped forward as if to catch her, and her chest brushed against his.
That warmth flooded her again, radiating deep into her core. With a yelp, she managed to leap away, then fell to the floor. Having no body, it didn’t hurt, but her blush was hotter this time. Celibacy was a fact of a yoki-hijo’s life, naturally. And she was very much in control of that aspect of her emotions. Absolutely in control. Yes indeed.
She was rescued from her embarrassment as a severe figure stepped up to the door of her wagon, which was still swinging open.
Liyun wore yellow on black today, as was the ritual for the fourth day of the month. As usual, she didn’t appear angry. One did not speak in anger to a yoki-hijo.
Besides, Liyun was expert at expressing emotions without speaking them.
“I hear, Chosen,” she said, leaving her clogs and swooping up onto the floor of the wagon, “that you have, in your wisdom, decided to violate ritual today.” She walked past Yumi, in a heap on the floor.
“Oh,” the hero said. “Right. So, I’m supposed to tell you that I’m not who you think I am. I’m a hero, er, that the spirits brought? Look, my home is on that star out there, a place where the light is normal? Teal and magenta? Not…whatever is out there.”
Yumi crawled on her knees to Liyun, then stumbled to her feet and nodded eagerly. Surely the warden would know how to approach this.
Surely she could help the two of them understand what the spirits wanted.
“You realize,” Liyun said softly, “that a Chosen must continue to serve, even through personal difficulties.”
“Sure?” the hero said. “I guess?”
“If a Chosen,” Liyun continued, “were to try to escape her duties through fabricated nonsense…why, it would only make life harder for her. And for everyone. The guilt of such lies would eventually tear her apart within.” Liyun bowed her head, as if in subservience. “Chosen. I apologize for my boldness in explaining to you that which you already know quite well.”
Yumi sank back to her knees, a sick lump in her throat. That was… that was exactly what she should have expected from Liyun. If she’d been less out of sorts, she would have realized that sooner.
“I see,” the hero said. He thought a moment, then he…posed? With arms folded? Did he think that looked dramatic when he was wearing a nightgown? “I don’t think you are taking me seriously enough. I—”
“Please,” Yumi said, interrupting. “Please, hero. My previous plan was flawed. Just…just go along with what she is saying.”
He frowned, glancing at Yumi.
“Liyun,” Yumi said, “will never believe that I, of all yoki-hijo, was blessed in this way by the spirits. Just…for now, could you do as I
say?”
“Who is she?” he asked.
“My head servant.”
He seemed skeptical about that. Liyun, who had only heard his part of that conversation, opened her mouth to offer another passive- aggressive piece of “advice.” Yumi spoke first.
“Tell her this: ‘I am sorry, Warden-nimi. I felt remnants of a dream, and was speaking according to them. By overtaxing myself yesterday, I’ve left myself weakened, as your wise counsel indicated. Forgive my indiscretions.’ ”
He reluctantly repeated the words, cutting Liyun off.
The warden fell silent, studying him.
“Kneel,” Yumi whispered. “Please? And bow your head? I know it’s
not very heroic, but…”
He obeyed, doing as she asked.
“Then shall I order the rituals to continue?” Liyun said. “Without interruption? It is, of course, your prerogative, Chosen.”
The hero glanced at Yumi, as if to ask whether she actually had a choice. Which she didn’t.
“I will continue the rituals,” she said, and the hero repeated it.
“Please send the attendants back. And apologize to Hwanji that I addressed her directly.”
Liyun accepted this, and turned and slipped out, her clogged feet clomping on the stone as she went to search for Hwanji and Chaeyung. Yumi pulled her hands to her breast and bowed her head, trying to still her racing heart. She always felt so tense when Liyun was serving her. More so now. The woman was already convinced that Yumi was trying to dodge her responsibilities…and with good reason. Yumi was, she knew, a poor representative of the Chosen.
But the spirits had come to her for help. They had sent a hero. That meant something, didn’t it?
“I don’t get it,” the hero said. “She’s your servant?”
“Everyone serves me,” Yumi said softly, “so that I may serve the world. It is my honor and duty to call the spirits, and bind them to the service of the people of Torio. As such, the people are…deeply invested in freeing me from worldly concerns, so I may focus solely on my important obligations.”
“It’s not just the sky that’s weird here, then?” he said. “It’s the (lowly) people too?”
“I must say,” Yumi told him, bowing further, “that you are taking this well, hero. Many would insist this is nothing but a dream. Your adventures in your land must have been great and interesting for this experience to be mundane to you.”
“I wouldn’t call it mundane,” he replied. “I just…have experience with dreams. My name is Painter, by the way.”
“Painter,” she said, mouthing the word. “It means ‘one who paints’ in our language. That is interesting.”
“I…I think I said it that way, in your language. Which I appear to be able to speak and read. Anyway, it’s more a title than a name.” He thought a moment. “So…I’m going to have to pretend to be you? At least until we get this all sorted out?”
“Yes,” she said. “If we can make it through the early part of the day, we should be able to approach the spirits and find out from them what we are to do. Perhaps…perhaps then we will know how to explain this to Liyun?”
That didn’t seem likely to Yumi, but the hero—Painter—didn’t know enough to object. Instead he scratched his head. She found it odd, naturally, that the spirits had sent a youth of her own age as the hero.
Perhaps their ages had to match for the transfer to occur. And likely a hero this young was more incredible, to have accomplished so much in only two decades of life.
“Those other women were offended,” he said, “when I took the
food. Was it for them to eat, then?”
“They must feed you,” Yumi said.
“What? Like a baby?”
“You must be free,” she explained, “of all worldly concerns. Others will do everything for you that you need.”
“That…sounds extremely patronizing,” he said. “Maybe even humiliating.”
She blushed. Well, as she considered it, perhaps to an outsider it would give that impression. Never to her, of course.
Despite his reservations, Painter didn’t object when the attendants returned and set out their things. They’d prepared a new bowl of rice, and—with Yumi’s coaching—he did the appropriate ritual moves, letting them feed him bite by bite. Liyun haunted the doorway, though she normally wouldn’t come to Yumi until after morning prayers.
As the meal progressed, Yumi managed to calm herself. Painter took direction well. She would have expected a hero to be more arrogant, but he did as she asked. By the end of the meal, Yumi was feeling far more composed and confident. They could manage this.
They could approach the spirits, and receive direction. All they
needed to do now was…
Was…
Oh.
Oh no.
The attendants rose and fetched their fans. Liyun gestured for Painter to stand and leave.
“Okay,” he whispered to Yumi as she stood up with him. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. What’s next?”
“Next,” she said, “we need to take our ritual bath.”
