Fudō-Myōō. It’s got to be.
I can’t believe our luck. I race forward. Maybe we actually have a chance of finishing this mission. “Come on!”
Jinx unties Peyton from the horse and helps him down. “Be careful, Xander.”
“It’s fine.” The shrine looks like it’s been here for a thousand years. The wood is weathered, and I can see splinters from a distance.
At its entrance, dozens of small wooden signs, each a bit larger than a Popsicle stick, dangle from ancient rusty nails. I examine one. It’s covered in Japanese writing.
“They’re prayers or wishes. Same thing, really.” Jinx has her arm around Peyton, who barely looks awake. His legs wobble so much that Jinx starts to topple backward. “A little help here!”
“Peyton?” I rush forward to catch him. “Peyton, time to wake up!”
His eyes open. He sways back and forth on his unsteady legs, which then give out. Jinx and I lay him on his side as gently as we can. I grit my teeth. We had better find Fudō here, or else Peyton’s a goner. There’s no Kintaro to help us.
I peer into the shrine. It looks like a small horse stall with shallow shelves built inside against the back wall. On the top shelf is a dented green bronze statue, about two feet tall, of a man sitting cross-legged. The frown on his face is still apparent. He holds a sword in one hand and a rope in the other.
I take off my helmet and run my hand over my hair, making it stand up from my sweaty scalp. “Is that you, Fudō?”
The statue doesn’t answer. Just sits.
On the ground behind me, Peyton coughs painfully, as if he’s suddenly caught the worst case of whooping cough in history. I turn to see him curl into a ball. He hacks until it sounds like he’s about to barf.
Jinx and I exchange a worried look. Jinx whips out a water bottle, props up Peyton’s head, and tries to get him to take a drink. “Just a sip,” she urges, and he manages to take one.
Fudō has to show up. If he doesn’t, my best friend is going to die right in front of us. My pulse pounds in my ears. I put my helmet back on and climb into the shrine, over the prayer blocks, and up to the statue. I look into its sightless eyes. “Fudō-Myōō, appear!” I bellow.
Nothing happens.
I take down the statue and carry it over to Jinx and Peyton. I don’t know why, exactly. To bring us luck?
“Maybe you need to meditate again.” Jinx kneels on the ground by Peyton, putting her hand on his forehead. “Oh my gosh, Xander, he’s so cold.” From the backpack she pulls out a space blanket, the kind with a shiny side.
The stallion nickers and folds his legs under him, settling down right next to Peyton. Jinx puts the blanket over both of them. We’ll warm him with body heat, the way Dad taught us.
“Fudō-Myōō!” I am howling. Tears sting my eyes. “Appear!” Come on, work!
A gust of wind blows up, drowning out my words.
This has all been a big waste of time.
I pick up the statue—hollow and worthless—and heave it over the cliff with a grunt.
Jinx shrieks. “Xander, stop!”
But I don’t want to stop. It feels like someone threw a grenade inside my head. White light blinds me, and I don’t know if it’s a reflection off the snow or an explosion in my brain. I start kicking the outside of the shrine. “He’s.” I kick. “Not.” I shove the walls with my shoulder. “REAL!”
The shrine rocks. I kick it again, aiming for a rotting corner.
The whole thing, this collection of old firewood and ancient lies, falls down with an ear-shattering whomp! Some of it slams into my helmet with a gong-like sound, but hey, that’s what a helmet is for. It doesn’t hurt at all.
I stomp on the pile of debris for good measure. I know I must look like a totally crazy person, but I can’t help it. If I don’t do this, I will lose my mind—and leap off the cliff into the abyss.
It must be all the jumping, but I don’t feel the cold anymore. In fact, the snow seems to be melting around the ruined shrine, forming puddles. Did my anger do that?
“Momotaro-san.”
A deep voice as smooth as melted chocolate sounds from above me. I stop crushing the ruins into dust and look up.
A man steps out of the sky onto the edge of the cliff.
I gasp.
His skin is the shade of a ripe blueberry. Flames surround his back, leaping and twirling, yet not touching him. He’s about six feet tall, with a mop of golden hair. Two long white fangs protrude from his mouth. He wears a red wrap skirt with a green sash over it, and a golden cloak thrown over one shoulder. In his left hand he holds a golden rope. In his right, a sword.
He’s frowning. Hard, as though he’s the CEO of Frowns Incorporated. Deep furrows run across his forehead like freeway lines, and his angry eyebrows rival an old man’s in their bushiness.
Of course, that fire surrounding him adds to the angry effect. There’s no way anyone would call him Fudō-Myōō, the Happy Lord of Light.
My jaw unhinges as I stare at him. Seriously, flies are flying in and out of my gaping mouth right now.
Jinx’s face mirrors mine. “Fudō-Myōō?” she whispers.
He extends his hand toward her. A flame dances in his palm. “For the sick one.”
Jinx stares at the fire as if she’s turned into a moth, and then she reaches out and touches it.
“Stop!” I yell. What’s wrong with her?
But the flame just dances over to her hand, disappearing into her flesh. Underneath her skin, the red light rolls up her arm to her shoulder, across her throat, and down the other arm to her opposite hand, which rests on Peyton’s shoulder.
The flame jumps out of her and disappears into Peyton. His legs jerk once, then go still. His skin starts to turn pink again.
“Your friend is safe for now.” Fudō-Myōō turns his red-eyed gaze to me, and I blanch.
Did I mention that his eyes are burning red, redder than Fourth of July firecrackers?
They are. Like they’ll explode in my face if I make him mad. Which I think I already did, by annihilating his shrine.
I take a breath, getting ready to explain everything that’s happened so far.
He holds up a hand to silence me. “Come.”
I step gingerly out of the rubble, trying not to impale my foot on a nail. There’re no tetanus shots up here in the other world, right? “Jinx, get Peyton together.”
“Leave them. They cannot come where you are going.” Fudō’s voice leaves no room for argument.
Jinx looks up, her gaze pained. “He’s right, Xander. Peyton wouldn’t make it.”
“But…are you sure?” I know this has to be killing Jinx. She is a person of action, not someone who would typically choose to stay behind to take care of other people.
She shrugs. “It’s not like I’m the Momotaro. So go on already. Go get everybody’s dreams back.” She smiles up at me, and I think it’s the bravest thing I’ve ever seen Jinx do, and that includes the time she saved my life.
I nod, unable to trust my voice.
Fudō turns and walks away.
Right off the cliff.
Oh no, he didn’t.
I get on all fours and peer over the edge of the cliff, searching for a blue mishmash on the rocks below.
There’s nothing. Not even him waving at me that it’s okay to come on down.
No way I’m doing that.
“Xander,” Jinx says from behind me, her tone steady, “you have to trust him.”
But when I look back at her, her expression is as worried as I feel.
“How do you know?” I ask her. “Maybe he’s mad because I smashed his shrine, and now he’s getting revenge.”
I back up all the way to her and Peyton. The horse blows out through his nostrils, as if distressed that I didn’t jump off the cliff.
Peyton is shivering under the blanket. He’s still alive, thanks to the flame. But how long will that last?
Jinx surveys him, then me. “Do you have a b
etter plan? You literally have no other option.”
I think and think.
Jinx is right.
I hate it when that happens.
I don’t tell Jinx to take care of Peyton because I know she will. Instead, I untie the belt with the netsuke on it and hand it to her. They’ll need the food and the salt more than I will. If I’m descending into some kind of dream-within-a-dream world with the Angry Lord of Light, I won’t need anything, right? Except maybe my sword. “If I don’t come back—”
Jinx whomps me in the arm, her eyes bright. “I’ll never speak to you again!”
I manage to give her a half grin. I raise my hand in farewell. Then I close my eyes, hold my breath, and run off the ledge.
This may come as a surprise, but I absolutely hate roller coasters. That sickening oh-no-I-left-my-stomach-behind feeling when you free-fall.
Peyton’s dad took us to Magic Mountain once. It didn’t end well.
Mr. Phasis had been willing to let me wait on a bench while he and Peyton went on a crazy roller coaster called the Vortex, but Peyton had insisted on sitting it out with me. That made me feel so bad, I went on it with him.
My stomach and the corn dog I’d eaten for lunch did not like the Vortex.
After that, both of us skipped the big fast rides. Peyton didn’t complain once, but his father grumbled about our wasting his time and money.
Peyton is a true friend.
I’m going to find the baku for him, no matter what it takes.
At least on a roller coaster, you can be sort of sure you’re not going to die. Plunging off a cliff is different.
I want to scream, but that won’t help. Instead, I shut my eyes, unwilling to look at the cliff face rushing past my body and at the ground coming up to crack my skull.
And then I’ve landed, tumbling down a grassy hill. My nose gets ready to sneeze, but it doesn’t. This grass feels like feathers.
I roll to a stop and get to my knees, waiting for the dizziness to pass. Fudō-Myōō stands there, still holding his weapons, flames crackling and fizzing around his head.
“Where are we?” I struggle to my feet, the world still spinning and my ears buzzing.
We’re on a plain that extends as far as I can see in all directions, like an ocean of grass. The sky is a brilliant aqua, but there’s a mist of fog above the ground. “Did I leave my body again?”
“You did not.” Fudō-Myōō extends his hand to me. “There are things I must teach you before you can move on, Musashi.”
How does he expect to teach me anything when I have no powers? I eye his hand warily. I don’t see a flame there this time, but still, I don’t want to get burned. “I don’t have time to be taught stuff, thanks. Just tell me where I can find the baku. I have to save my family and my best friend.” My voice cracks at friend.
The Angry Lord laughs dismissively. “You don’t have a choice in the matter. Now, take my hand!”
I glare at him. How dare he? I am Momotaro. Why does everyone try to boss me around like I’m some kid? First Kintaro and now him. Well, maybe it’s time to show people that I’m not a pushover. I steady myself on my shaky feet and, trying to ignore the pain of my broken rib, take out my sword. “No. Show me how to find the baku!”
He bares his teeth, his white fangs shining against the dusky blue skin. Unlike Peyton’s blue pallor, Fudō’s has a red undertone, indicating that he’s full of life.
With one fluid movement, he charges at me, and I barely have time to lift my sword to block. The clang of metal on metal wrenches my shoulders, and I almost drop the sword. I realize belatedly that I’ve never actually fought someone who was also wielding a sword. Dad was supposed to get to that part of my training later. Whoops.
Fudō-Myōō holds his weapon over his head and brings it swinging down at me. I leap to the side and scurry around to his back. There are advantages to being small. I chop at his flames, but my blade just whizzes through them.
Now, as if the first part were just a test, Fudō really goes on the attack. He whirls around, his feet moving in a blur, and swings his sword at me. All I can do is react: block, duck, scamper. No time to figure out how to win. And I’m really, really glad I have the helmet now. I think it’s saved my skull three times.
Just when I’m sure he’s going to finish me—because, really, it would be easy for him—he tosses the lasso around me and yanks it tight, pinning my arms to my sides and making my rib pop in pain. My sword falls, and I move my foot just in time to avoid losing a toe.
“Are you done?” Fudō-Myōō gives the rope another good tug.
I twist my shoulders to loosen the scratchy cord. “I won’t be done until I find the baku!” I try to use my Momotaro powers to imagine the rope breaking free of my body, but of course that doesn’t happen.
“Xander.” The way Fudō-Myōō says my name sounds like a rebuke, as if he’s caught me stomping on butterflies or something. “Your anger summoned me. Now I must teach you how to handle it, or you will never be able to capture the baku and overcome her master.”
My neck whips around in a double take. “Her master? Who’s the baku’s master?”
Fudō-Myōō sweeps his hand across the plain. “The ruler of this land. The dream land.”
He lets the rope slacken now, and it falls around my feet. I step out of it before he changes his crazy angry mind. “Dream land?”
Fudō-Myōō winds up his lasso, securing it at his side. “Did I stutter? Open your ears!” he bellows, this time so loud I clap my hands over my ears. “No, you heard me; you’re just repeating.”
“Okay, okay!” Dang, Fudō-Myōō is more impatient than Mr. Phasis. I wish Peyton could see this.
Fudō sits on the ground with more grace than you’d expect from a man who’s on fire, sinking into a cross-legged position. He encourages me to sit, too, his voice now as soft as a flower pushing up from the soil.
I don’t argue. I can’t afford to—I need to find out more, as soon as possible. Okay, so there’s some kind of dream lord, the baku’s master. Does this have anything to do with the scorpion thing that attacked me and made Mom so weak? I rack my brain, reviewing everything that’s happened, trying to remember all that Dad has ever told me.
“Xander.” Fudō-Myōō looks levelly at me. His eyes are horrible, with golden glowing pupils. I gulp and try my best to hold his gaze. “Your bad dreams were caused by you, not by any oni.”
“By me? How?” He seems to know quite a bit about me, this Fudō-Myōō, but then again he’s some kind of deity, so maybe that makes sense….
“You carry a great deal of anger within you.” He points at my chest, his fingernails like red daggers. He needs to see a manicurist.
I cross my arms. Between my mother coming back, my misuse of my powers, and the whole dream thing, if I had a dollar for every time someone told me I was angry this year, I’d have enough money to buy a pony. “So?” I realize how obnoxious that sounds, and I uncross my arms. “I don’t have any more anger than the average person. I mean, have you met Jinx? Maybe she should be here, too.”
Fudō-Myōō ignores these comments. He just stares at me, so motionless that he looks like one of those statues of himself. “Have you heard of an onryō?”
I shake my head.
“These are demons, ghosts of your own making. Your own anger and sorrow call them to you. And then they haunt you relentlessly.” He ties his rope into a lasso and begins twirling it carelessly in his hand.
I blink slowly at him, processing this new info. All those dream images—the wraith dad trying to kill me, the worst version of me trying to kill my best friend, the slinking figure I’d mistaken for Gozu at Kintaro’s house—all that came from me?
Huh. So I truly am a horrible person. It wasn’t an oni making me think that I’d wanted to do all these things. “That doesn’t make me feel better, Fudō.”
“Xander,” he says, “your father has begun teaching you many important lessons. But I must teach you more. D
o you remember how you hurt Lovey?”
Ugh. Fudō-Myōō really does know everything. “She had it coming.” I cross my arms defensively again. “And I was helping Jinx.”
“I’m going to show you how to defeat people by using only your presence.” He stands up. “How did you feel when you saw me?”
“Freaked out? Scared? Terrified?” I back up just a little bit.
He closes his eyes as if I’m the dumbest person he’s ever had to talk to. “What else?”
I try to come up with a better word. “Awestruck?”
His eyes open. “Good. Very good.”
We look at each other for a moment.
“What’s going to happen now? Are you going to make a flame come out of my head?”
“Your own version of a flame,” Fudō-Myōō corrects, “which you can possess only when your anger and sorrow are completely under control. They must work for you. You are their master.”
Frustration bubbles up as fast as soda mixed with Mentos. “But I don’t have time to learn how to do all that! I need to get to the baku! Can’t you just give me the abbreviated version?”
“If your spirit is not strong, your physical self will surely be defeated.” Fudō-Myōō brings his hands together in front of him, lacing his fingers and pointing his index fingers.
He nods at me, and I realize he’s waiting for me. I get up, my legs stiff and numb, and try to imitate his pose.
“Your knees should be slightly bent.” Fudō-Myōō demonstrates, bouncing a little. “Do you feel the earth beneath your feet?”
“Yeah.” What kind of question is that? “Of course I do. If I didn’t, I’d be floating around.”
“No. Do you feel the energy of the earth? The flow?”
“I thought we were in some dream land, not earth.” I shuffle my feet. It feels like plain old ground to me. Nothing more, nothing less.
Fudō-Myōō snaps his eyes closed like blinds shutting against the afternoon sun. Apparently he’s not that patient, either. “Miyamoto-san, quiet your mind.” He points down at my feet. “Remove your shoes.”
I kick off my sneakers, then peel off my socks for good measure. My bare toes wiggle against the earth. Be quiet, mind. Quiet, like I’m meditating under the waterfall.
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 15