“I’m going to pretend like I never heard that.” She strides ahead of me.
“How much farther?” Peyton’s breathing kind of hard. “I think I might just rest here.” He tries to sit down.
“You’ve been there before.” I have the feeling that if Peyton sits down, it might be hard to get him moving again. “It’s just a little bit farther, dude. Come on.” I make him loop his arm through mine, and I yank him along the path.
The waterfall drips into that same pathetic puddle, covered with stagnant green algae that reeks of rotting plant life.
Jinx and I eye it doubtfully. There’s a small niche in the rock behind the water. Not a cave—more like an indentation. Just big enough for one person to sit in, cross-legged.
“I guess it’s you.” She gestures. “Be my guest, O honored Momotaro-san.”
I give her a sour look as I duck through the drip, which smells like a skunk took a bath in it someplace upstream. It’s as warm as a shower, and I can’t help imagining all the microbes and bacteria in it, now trying to leap into my bloodstream to sicken me. I shudder. No way will I last two weeks here. I might not even last two minutes. “Are you sure you’ll be okay?” I ask Jinx.
“What, you think I can’t survive without you? Remember, you don’t have powers anymore.” She leads Peyton over to a shady patch under a tree, where he lies down and she sits, taking a book out of her knapsack. “We’ll be fine.”
Thanks for reminding me, Jinx, that I’m helpless. “You look comfy. Enjoy yourselves! Don’t let me keep you from having fun.” I set my pack to one side, take off my sword, and lean it against the back wall. I try to get comfortable.
It’s not easy. The granite’s hard. A line of thirsty ants marches past me to the water. A few of them climb my legs, and I feel them bite me, their huge intruder. Ouch! I brush them off and scoot out of the way as best I can.
Some waterfall of knowledge.
I close my eyes and wait for something to happen.
Uggggggggh.
Meditation is so boring.
I can’t understand why anybody in their right mind would want to do this. What’s so fun about sitting still and trying not to think about anything? This is impossible. I’m always thinking about something, even when I don’t want to. Like right now, I’m thinking about how I don’t have any powers, and how heavy my sword gets when I’m hiking, and how not strong I am.
Stop it.
Okay. Let’s try something different. I picture a blank piece of paper. Pure white, no words, no pictures.
I could draw that oni scorpion who attacked me. I try to imagine its humanoid head, its fangs….
It’s still out there. My heart flip-flops as I think of it. It could be living in those boulders right there, waiting for us.
Nope. That’s not an empty mind, either.
I blow out a gust of air that wobbles the drips of the “waterfall.” I can’t do this much longer. I shift. The rock is making my bottom sore. Not exactly a La-Z-Boy recliner. My spine hurts.
I peer out at Jinx, who sits a distance away, reading her book. Next to her, Peyton lies under a tree, his face not visible from here. I wonder if his nap will do him any good. Maybe Jinx should be the one sitting under here. After all, she volunteered. Or maybe it should be Peyton, who is practically meditating all the time anyway.
Anger surfaces again like that green stuff sitting on top of the water. Why am I always responsible for everybody? How did I get to be the one?
You used the baku too much, and you lied about it, says a voice in my head. That’s how.
Shut up, inner voice. Know-it-all.
I take a deep breath and think about my grandfather. Why can’t he show up again and give me some more valuable advice? I’ve only had one dream about him since my big adventure, and that was a nightmare.
I’d told Obāchan about how her husband had helped me out during that strange journey. How he’d kept appearing in my dreams and giving me hints about what to do. “Was it really him?” I’d asked her. “Or was it just my mind making him up?”
She had nodded thoughtfully. “What you describe sounds like him. You used details that we never told you about, that you had no way of knowing.” She’d shrugged. “But even if it was your mind, does it make a difference? Either way, he helped you.”
Now I try to remember what my grandfather looked like. Silver hair. Same blue eyes as me and my father. The wrinkles between his brows and in the corners of his eyes. But somehow the whole image won’t come together in one piece.
Side effect of the baku, I guess.
What would Ojīchan do if he were here?
But instead of my grandfather, Jinx flits into my head. Jinx, with her constant reading and butting in. Jinx, always trying to hang out with me and Peyton. Telling me how lucky I am. She should have her own friends. Like Clarissa.
My heart flutters.
Jinx likes Clarissa, but she’s only invited Clarissa over once, and that was when Mom suggested it. Mom even called Clarissa’s mother for her.
The two girls hung out in the yard—literally, since Jinx was up in a tree, dangling upside down from her knees. Clarissa sat on the branch next to her, reading aloud from a book. Jinx laughed from time to time, her face beet-red from the blood rushing into it.
Clarissa never came over again, and she’d never invited Jinx over to her house, either. Why? Could it be that Clarissa’s parents knew that Jinx’s dad was an oni? No, that was impossible….
My temple throbs. Thinking about the social lives of girls makes my brain hurt.
Man, Jinx must be lonely. She doesn’t fit in even worse than I don’t fit in.
And there I was, resenting every second she was with me and Peyton. I might have to be nicer to her.
I don’t know why this never occurred to me before. I stretch out my aching leg.
“Onamae-wa?” a voice beside me says.
I jump about a foot into the air and land hard on my tailbone. “What?”
Right next to me, coming up to about my armpit, sits a man. Or sort of a man. He is dressed in a cloak of deep orange-red. His white eyes stare sightlessly ahead of him. Two black eyebrows, as dark and wiggly as bristly caterpillars, work up and down like seesaws above his eyes. He doesn’t really have a neck; his jaw seems to melt right into his chest. Below that, his stomach sticks out. He’s kind of egg shaped, like if I touched him, he’d teeter back and forth.
“Onamae wa?” the man asks again.
Basic Japanese. What’s your name?
Huh. Strange opening sentence. No Good afternoon or How do you do? No not trying to scare the living daylights out of me.
“Xander,” I manage through a throat that feels like I just ate ten pieces of dry toast followed by fish bones. I cough heartily.
“I would pat you on the back, but you can see my problem.” The man chuckles as one arm stump moves beneath his cloak. He has no limbs.
I swivel myself around so I’m facing him. “Who are you?”
“I am Daruma.” He blinks slowly at me. “You are in my cave.”
Daruma. I look him up and down.
“Haven’t you heard of me?” He wiggles his left eyebrow. “I am normally seen in airport shops and souvenir stores. Daruma. You know. Did your obāchan ever tell you not to sit around for too long, or your legs would shrivel away like mine did?”
“I know who you are,” I say kind of brusquely. She had, but I didn’t think it’d be polite to bring it up. “She might have mentioned that.” I think of my parents back home on the couch and hope nothing worse happens to them—or to Obāchan. I need to get this over with as soon as possible. “I’m here because I’m looking for the baku. Do you know where I can find it?”
“Slow down there.” Daruma’s cloudy eyes roll toward me. “First things first. Your meditation brought me to you.”
“Really?” I ask, feeling rather impressed with myself. “So that was good meditation. Huh. But I couldn’t get rid of all my crazy th
oughts.”
“The point is not to get rid of your thoughts,” Daruma says patiently, “but to watch them fall around you like snowflakes melting into warm ground.”
Okay, whatever. “No need to get poetic on me,” I mutter. All that matters is it worked. I slide toward him, eager to learn his information. “So, you can tell me where to go? What to do?”
He shakes his head slightly. I don’t know how he turns it without a neck. “Not yet. First you must learn how to control your impatience and anger.”
“What?” I scramble to my feet, almost hitting my head on the cave ceiling. “I don’t have time to learn how to control my impatience and anger! I have a family to save! My grandmother might die because of me!” I bend over. “Please, Daruma, if you’re going to help me, then help me. Don’t give me weird advice riddles. I’m not in the mood.” I hold out my hands, palms up. “I’ll give you whatever you want. Like, anything.” I look around for something. “My sword, even.” I hold it out to him. “See? It’s probably worth a lot.”
Daruma sputters. “Pah! What need have I for a sword or money? I am helping you the only way you can be helped, former Momotaro-san.” Daruma’s wrinkled eyelids close, and he bows his head slightly. “It is best to keep one’s head near one’s body at all times, or else one’s powers will be lost. Now, you can take my advice or you can leave my advice.”
What the heck? “As far as I know, my head’s still attached to the rest of me.” I sit down.
Daruma ignores my comment. “Perhaps”—he clears his throat—“perhaps you could fetch me some water? It’s been centuries since I last drank!”
I point at the pitiful stream trickling down in front of us. “This water?”
“Are you trying to kill me?” Daruma asks. “No, the water you have in your pack.”
How can he see I have a pack? It’s behind him. And how does he know there’s water in it? “Sure.” I pull a bottle from my knapsack and twist off the cap. I hold the bottle near his lips, trying not to let them touch the opening, but his head shoots forward and he gulps down half of the water before I can even blink.
Then he lets out a huge, cave-rattling belch. “Ahhh. Thank you.”
I nod curtly.
“Now, as I was saying before you, ahem, lost your patience, you must learn how to control your anger and impatience, or else you will not be able to lure the baku to you.” Daruma smirks as if impressed with his own wisdom.
I scowl. He’s reminding me of my teacher Mr. Stedman. Which doesn’t exactly make me want to turn cartwheels.
Daruma continues. “To do this, you must find Fudō-Myōō. He will show you.”
“Fu-do-me-yo-oh?” I repeat dumbly. “How do I find him? What does he look like?”
Daruma closes his eyes. “Fudō-Myōō will not just appear to any old traveler. No. He is the Angry Lord of Light. He appears with a halo of flame around his head, and his mouth curled in a great sneer, ready to strike down demons and nonbelievers alike with his sword and rope.”
“Angry Lord of what now?” I’m pretty sure I don’t want to deal with anyone or anything with the name Angry Lord. Or with a halo of flame.
“Light,” Daruma repeats. “And as I said, Fudō-Myōō will not appear for everyone or anything. No. Your cause must be worthy. You must prove yourself. You must call him so he hears.”
By this time, I’m ready to kick Humpty Dumpty over and run out of this place. Which probably won’t win me any worthiness points. I inhale and count to ten. “Do I just go around shouting, ‘Fudō, hey, Fudō, come out, come out, wherever you are’?”
Daruma wobbles his head. “Not exactly. Did you bring him an offering?”
“An offering?” I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Like a lamb? Are we going that medieval?”
He clucks impatiently. “Not a sacrifice. An offering.”
I fiddle around in my backpack. “I don’t know. I have a granola bar.” I take it out.
He eyes it disdainfully. “Xander, I don’t think you’ve heard anything I’ve said.”
“I’ve heard everything you said.” I thrust the granola bar into the backpack so hard it breaks in half. “I’m just waiting to hear something I can use. Otherwise, why’d you bother to appear? To taunt me?”
“Climb up the mountain. Through the gate. He’s there. Somewhere.” Daruma lets out a long breath. “That is all I know.”
“This mountain? Really?” I doubt that. This is just a regular mountain, in San Diego County. It’s not some mystical place where an Angry Lord of Light would be hiding out. Maybe some random angry person, like the guy they arrested last year for setting the forest on fire, but no actual angry lord. “I’ve been to the peak dozens of times, and I’m telling you, there’s nothing special there.” I pick up the bottle. “Maybe you need more water to help you remember?”
Daruma pushes his lips out in a pout. The caterpillar brows work up and down. Then he shimmers and disappears.
What? “Hey, come back here!” I shout. I kick the space where he used to be. “You’re not done yet! ARRRRRRGH!!”
When the last argggh leaves my body, I inhale sharply.
I’m sitting down, and my eyes are still closed.
So that’s what it’s like to meditate? Well, that was somewhat more exciting than I thought it’d be. However, I still don’t know exactly where and how to find this Fudō-Myōō character. Someplace on the mountain. That’s real specific. This mountain’s pretty darn big.
“Xander!” Jinx shrieks. “Get yourself and your sword out here pronto!”
Beyond the waterfall, I see a multicolored shape charge at Jinx.
A man in a flowing white robe paces back and forth in front of Jinx, an unearthly growl rolling out from his throat.
Um, I take that back.
A manlike thing on two legs with two arms and the head of a dragon paces back and forth in front of Jinx. A long, serpentine head, with green and red scales. Its body is as solid and muscular as a silverback gorilla’s, and like an ape, its knuckles brush the ground.
Jinx stands still, her Leatherman knife at the ready as she eyes his movements. “You know what?” she says to me as I approach. “I super-duper need my own sword. This pocketknife just isn’t cutting it.”
“I don’t know, I think a pocketknife cuts stuff pretty well.” I stay back, trying to figure out what the dragon man’s going to do, how dangerous he is. Dangerous enough, I decide.
“This isn’t the time for jokes!” Jinx darts to one side, then the other. I realize she’s not running up into a tree because she’s protecting our friend. Peyton, amazingly, is still asleep on the ground behind her, his hands folded on his chest, snoring away as if he isn’t about to get eaten by a ferocious oni.
The monster’s head undulates on its body as it eyes Jinx, getting ready to strike.
She holds up her hands in the defensive stance my father recently taught us. “Hey, Christmas dragon! Don’t make me use my moves on you!”
I break into a run, lifting my sword, which seems a lot heavier than the last time I used it in battle. He hasn’t turned around yet. Good. For a person my size, the element of surprise is pretty much your best weapon.
But it’s not enough of a surprise. The dragon turns and, without hesitation, leaps toward me.
And exhales blue smoke.
I wait until the creature is almost right on top of me, though I really, really don’t want to. At the last possible second, I hop to the left and just barely escape him. His smoke crackles against my hair, and it feels like I just opened a freezer. I touch my hair. Icicles.
So he breathes cold, not fire? Okay.
The dragon whirls, coming at me again before I can react.
Jinx appears in front of me, waving a burning branch. “You want a piece of this?”
“Hey!” I say. “There are no fires allowed in this forest!” That’s all we need, to set the whole mountain on fire before we find Fudō.
The oni hisses, poofing away th
e fire.
Never mind, then.
I sprint toward the dragon and jab it with my sword, but he undulates his stomach to the side, dodging me. He spurts more ice-smoke at my face, and I brace myself to become a Popsicle.
Jinx’s hand shoots in front of my eyes. The dragon’s smoke bounces off her golden cuff and back into its face. He turns a blue-gray color as he freezes into stone. Or ice. Does it matter which?
But his claws can still move, and they grab Jinx around the waist. She yelps and squirms, but he holds her tight.
I squat and swing my sword in a wide arc from right to left, aiming at the thing’s kneecaps. It’s kind of a wild swing—I don’t have much control in this position—and all I can do is hope.
The sword slices through him as easily as a hot knife in a stick of butter.
The oni’s torso thuds into the dirt. The legs remain standing as if the feet are glued to the ground.
Not bad, Xander. Not bad at all, especially for feeling so clumsy. But still, I wish I were stronger. You’d think I’d be getting better at fighting, but I haven’t improved any since our last adventure. I bend over for a second, getting my breath back.
“Hey.” Jinx comes over and holds out her hand to help me up. “Good job finishing him. But otherwise, your sword work’s really gone downhill.”
I drop her hand and dust off my pants. “Jinx, can’t you just say something nice and leave it at that? It’s not like you’re the ultimate ninja warrior.”
She gives me a bemused look. “I’m saying your lack of powers is affecting your sword-fighting skills, Xander.”
“Like I need you to tell me that.” I bend over to examine the oni’s legs. Scaly. I prod one with my toe. It’s soft, as though it’s a stuffed animal, not a real creature. “Jinx, do you know what this thing is?”
“Very good,” comes a voice.
Jinx and I exchange a look of alarm. Then Jinx gathers herself and says, “Hello?” in a voice as calm as a telephone greeting, as if she’s not completely freaked out by this turn of events.
“Who said that?” I hold my sword ready, turning in a circle, but all I see are a few birds flying here and there.
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 8