“Then why do you need me?” I tense in anticipation of his answer.
“I need you to be my little soldier, Xander.” He smiles at me, the sides of his eyes crinkling. “I’ll give you your dreams back. Your powers will be restored. I’ve seen how well you use them. I won’t constrain you, like your old father did.”
Old father?
I recall the drawing I made before we left, the one with me cowering while my father crawled to his doom, and my grandfather dead. “That’s not true!” I say aloud to chase the memory away.
Ozuno smiles again, but it is terrible this time, and I feel my soul shrink like a snail sprinkled with salt. “Your subconscious never lies, Xander. That drawing only revealed what you already knew deep down.”
I want to shove him away, but instead I manage a mere whimper. I am turning into that stupid drawing, defeated and sad.
All I want is to go home. I should have gone when I had the chance.
“No.” Ozuno ruffles my hair. “I always wanted my very own Momotaro, who would work with me instead of against me. Think of all we could accomplish together. Can you imagine?”
The palace around us fades, and suddenly we are standing on a stage. There’s a microphone in front of me. Thousands of screaming fans are cheering my name. I’m holding an electric guitar, and to my surprise, I know how to play it. A thrill rushes through me, hot and sharp. My heart pounds.
I turn to look at the musicians behind me. Peyton’s on bass; Jinx is on keyboard. Ozuno sits behind the drum kit, grinning. “You’d like this, wouldn’t you? Fame and fortune. Together with your friends, for always.”
“You’re crazy!” I yell, barely able to hear myself above the screaming fans. “I don’t even care about music that much.”
“Then how about this?” He snaps his fingers, and I’m in a luxury jet, strapped into a soft leather seat, the engine humming outside the window. Which is the only way I know it’s an airplane because I’m sitting in a conference room, complete with a shiny wooden table. I look down.
On the carpet is a seal that says THE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES.
The chair next to me swivels. “Welcome to Air Force One.” Ozuno steeples his fingers. “You’re the leader of the free world. Think of all the good you could do, Xander.”
That oh-so-happy feeling returns, swallowing me whole like an enormous but very comfortable boa constrictor. I gulp, trying to fight the sensation. It’s hard. Imagine that you’re starving and someone offers you your favorite food, but you have to say no.
I shut my eyes. “No!” I shout as loud as I can. “Who wants to be a politician, anyway? Being the president is way too much responsibility.”
“Or this.” Ozuno claps three times fast.
Now I’m behind a skirted table in a cavernous convention center. In front of me is a line that snakes the length of a football field. People are holding stacks of comic books. “It’s him!” one especially pretty girl exclaims. “I can’t believe it!”
I have a pen in my hand. A comic book lies on the table in front of me. By Xander Miyamoto it reads. I turn around. Lined up on a shelf behind me are action figures based on characters I’ve drawn. A big banner above it proclaims MIYAMOTO UNIVERSE. There’s a map of an amusement park with rides based on my stories, and my grinning picture is plastered all over the place—I see one ride called “Xander Rockets.” I turn back around to the crowd standing in front of me.
I’m at Comic-Con, and apparently I’m a cross between Stan Lee and Walt Disney.
And then Clarissa, the girl from school, comes up to the table, smiling shyly. She’s older now—in college at least—and she’s looking at me in a way that makes me blush and feel really, really awkward inside. “Hi, Xander,” she says softly. “I always knew you were talented.”
I smile and nod. My vocal cords won’t work.
“Think of all you could skip,” Clarissa says in her sweetest voice. “All your lame middle school years. High school, where you’ll only get bullied more. You could come directly here. Pass Go. Collect…millions of dollars.” The corners of her mouth turn up. “You could have everything right now, Xander.” She touches my face, and it feels like a small, pleasant electric shock.
Don’t say no! my gut yells. Say yes! It’ll be so much easier. You’ll never have to see Mr. Stedman or Lovey again.
And my mouth opens, my tongue in the yes position.
The word yes starts to leave my mouth. But then I think of Kaguya, shivering with fear under the throne, and the baku, petrified on top. I picture Jinx—is she okay, in that well?—and Peyton and my family. What would happen if I suddenly skipped ahead ten years? Would my ancient grandmother be gone, never knowing what had happened to me? My father would be left with no one to carry on his family line (even if I couldn’t be Momotaro). I would have abandoned my mother, like she abandoned me.
Clarissa touches my hand softly. “Are you worried about Peyton? Don’t be. You don’t have to be artists together like he wanted. You can be the best, all by yourself.” She waves vaguely toward something off to my side.
I see Peyton standing there, his posture hunched and defeated. His proud plume of bird hair is gone. His eyes have bags under them, and his skin is sallow. He doesn’t look much better than he did after he lost all his dreams.
What? Why would I want Peyton to end up like that? What’s wrong with her? I jerk my face away, forcing myself to look directly into Clarissa’s eyes. “I don’t want Peyton to fail.”
She blinks at me. “You should. It’s the only way to be number one. To kill the dreams of your best competitors.”
I blink back at her, thinking of what Kintaro told me. “More than one person can be good at something at the same time, Clarissa.” I crook my finger at Peyton. “Come here!” He never looks toward my table, just at his large feet clad in dirty sneakers. I turn back to Clarissa and realize, finally, who she really is.
I stare unblinkingly into those impossibly blue eyes. “No,” I say firmly. “No, Ozuno.”
Clarissa melts away and Ozuno stands in her place, still smiling.
Ew. I can’t believe I almost fell for that.
Ozuno nods, looking halfway impressed. “Let me put it another way.” Pain lances through my skull as if he’s struck me with an anvil. I fall to my knees, shuddering uncontrollably, my teeth chattering. He leans into my face. “You help me, and the pain will stop. If you don’t help me, the pain will be constant, every second of every day for the rest of your long, miserable life. And I’ll make sure you live to be a very, very old man.” Abruptly, the agony cuts off.
Tears stream out of my eyes, and I can’t help but sob. I hear the princess making stifled sobs in return.
Ozuno shakes his head. “Oh, princesses. When will they ever learn that their princes can never rescue them?” He wipes the tears from my face with a finger that no longer feels soft, but instead like a splintery board being wiped across my cheek. “There’s nothing to be sad about, Xander. There is only joy.” He sits and gathers me against his chest. I can’t move or resist. “Why not embrace that joy you felt when you used your powers all the time? It’s not wrong to feel good.”
“It is when you’re on the dark side,” I spit through gritted teeth.
Ozuno laughs again, rocking me as though I’m an injured little kid, but crushing the breath out of me. “Dark side? This isn’t a movie; this is real. Can’t you see? The oni are already winning. All your wars. Your diseases. Your disasters. You already live in the dark side.” Ozuno releases me. “If you join me, Xander, we can conquer the world much more easily. There will be less suffering because people will accept the natural order of things.”
I am desperate to push him away, to jump up and retrieve my sword. But I still can’t do more than sit and move my neck. I’m completely helpless.
Ozuno pats me on the head. “I’m being nice, giving you a choice. Like a father lets a toddler choose between doing what his daddy says or getting a spanking.”
<
br /> “You might be a good parent—to Hitler.” My body shakes uncontrollably, as if I’m having a weird seizure. Hives rise up all over my skin, hot and round and incredibly itchy. My back sweats while my front goes freezer-cold.
“All these centuries of fighting your family line, and all I really wanted was to be a father. I never realized it until now.” He laughs, then breaks into the song those severed-head people were singing around the campfire. “Momotaro-chan, Momotaro-chan. You’ll be my son, Xander.”
Laserlike pain laces through me, convulsing my body into helpless pile of bones.
“Momotaro-chan, Momotaro-chan,” he sings.
And he sings. And sings. And sings.
The pain is intolerable. I’ll tell him anything. I’ll do anything, if only he’ll stop singing. I’ll be your Momotaro, I’m ready to say, I’ll do it, just let me go, just make this stop….
And then the door slides open, and Jinx stands there, holding the imp in one hand, her dagger in the other.
“Release him,” Jinx commands. “Or your little buddy gets it.”
The imp whimpers and chatters in its oni language. Then it hisses, baring what can only be super-poisonous teeth. It struggles in her hand but can’t get out of Jinx’s iron grip.
Ozuno stops singing. All is silent for a moment.
Then he laughs like he’s at a world-class comedy show. I mean, he laughs so hard that his face turns red and he can’t even make a sound, just pounds his kneecap with his palm.
She lifts the imp higher. “What’s so funny?”
“Jinx, Jinx, Jinx,” Ozuno says reproachfully, when he manages to speak again. “I can’t believe that you, a half-oni, would believe that I would care about the fate of one imp. I am disappointed.”
She drops the imp and it scurries away, passing directly by my nose. It smells like dog poop, and it giggles as I cringe. The imp scrambles up Ozuno’s arm and perches there on his shoulder, waiting.
And Jinx—she seems to be frozen in place, her arm still outstretched, her mouth contorted, her hand gripping an invisible monster. All the color bleeds out of her face, and her skin turns purple then blue, as if something’s choking the air out of her.
“Jinx!” I shout.
Without warning, Peyton zooms through a window opening. He throws a handful of salt at Ozuno, who screams when it touches him. It burns him, and he melts into a puddle. The imp shrivels into nothingness.
Immediately, I’m free of pain and paralysis. I know Ozuno’s not going to stay melted for long—already the puddle’s starting to lump up as if he’s reconfiguring himself. I leap forward to Jinx. She’s still stunned. Why isn’t she released, too?
Peyton reaches under the throne and picks up my helmet. “Did you lose this, Xander?” He tosses it to me. I snag it out of the air and put it on. It feels right on my head.
He drags the princess out from underneath the throne by her feet. Her body’s hog-tied by Fudō-Myōō’s rope. No wonder she couldn’t move.
Peyton unwinds the rope. “Are you okay, lady?”
She sits up, looking dazed, and shakes her head. “Of course I’m not okay—I was just tied up and shoved underneath my own throne!” She wipes at her mouth. “Ugh. It’s dusty under there.”
“Peyton!” I call, still trying to budge Jinx. “A little help!”
But just then the scorpion, hissing out of its human mouth, scurries out from its hiding place and leaps at the princess and Peyton, swinging its stinger in the air. This time it’s the baku who jumps forward, tusks flashing, and skewers the bug right through the middle. Apparently those tusks are not just for show. The scorpion squeals as yellow acid sprays out of it. The princess grabs Peyton and shoves him away from the goop. The stuff makes a crater in the floor, sizzling it and the giant bug away like a flame-eating paper.
Peyton swoops over to me and Jinx, my sword in his hand. I take it from him and Peyton touches her shoulder. “Oh no.” He wraps his arms around her and tries to lift. “She’s stone cold! Literally, for a change.”
“She’s just stunned,” I say with way more confidence than I actually feel.
A foot kicks me square in the back, and suddenly I’m on the floor.
Ozuno is already reconstituted. “Birds,” he says in a voice laced with disdain. “Not the apex predator.” He snaps his fingers, and out of the marble floor leaps a tiger. It’s way bigger than an ordinary one—it’s more like an Ice Age saber-toothed tiger, the size of a rhino, with long fangs and wild yellow eyes. It growls at Peyton.
He takes off, flying over the tiger’s head. It swipes at him with its claws, sending a spray of feathers over me. Peyton makes it up to the window ledge. “Xander!” he calls helplessly. “Shoo, kitty!” The giant cat paces beneath him, growling and chuffing. It leaps up and is almost able to reach him.
The princess takes the opportunity to jump onto Ozuno’s back, wrapping her pearl necklace around his throat. His eyes bulge as she twists the strand. “Bind me up in my own home, will you?” She twists harder. His tongue sticks out as his face turns red.
“You look just like a dime-store oni mask!” I leap forward, my sword in hand, and run him through the abdomen.
Or I try to run him through the abdomen. It’s about as effective as sticking a toothpick into a piece of hardwood. Ozuno smiles down at me, his eyes still bulging.
I kick him in the side of the knee instead.
He flops onto the ground. The necklace breaks, and pearls scatter everywhere. The princess falls backward. “Ahhhh!” she cries, landing headfirst with a sickening crack. Before I can make another move, Ozuno is on his feet. The princess lies motionless.
“Kaguya!” I move toward her, but Ozuno sweep-kicks my shins, and I fall flat on my face, my sword spinning away. He pins me to the marble floor with his huge and presumably stinky foot. “What are you wearing, stilettos?” I gasp.
He snorts. “See how you amuse me, young Xander?”
Before I can take another shallow breath so I can issue a retort, I hear a whoosh like a gas BBQ getting turned on, only times one hundred. The tiger yowls, and I see it running out of the throne room, its back aflame. What on earth…?
Then there’s another whoosh, and heat surrounds me. I press myself down into the marble. The helmet—the helmet’s protecting me from the fire. Something’s blazing, smelling of burning coal and melting plastic. Where’s it coming from?
“Get your gross foot off my friend!” Jinx yells, and suddenly the pressure on my back is released. I roll away.
Jinx plunges her knife into Ozuno’s neck with her right hand. Out of her left hand a white flame shoots straight at him.
He screams in rage, the sound like a hundred squawking birds and a building falling down and a fifteen-car highway accident combined into one bone-shattering noise.
All I can do is stare in awe. Holy pyrokinesis, Batman! What the heck?
Engulfed by fire, Ozuno’s form drops. The flame subsides, and there’s a pile of dark ash where the oni was.
Kaguya stands in the doorway to the courtyard, swaying slightly, holding the baku in her arms. Blood runs down the side of her face. “Hurry! Get out while you can! I’ll carry on from here.”
“Really? Like you did before?”
She sends me a look so fierce that I blanch. “I never make the same mistake twice.”
Like tiny Lego blocks employed by an invisible builder, the ash on the floor begins to take on a shape. I groan. Not again.
The baku bleats and tries to squirm out of Kaguya’s arms. “Xander! If you insist on staying, then hurry up and do something!” the princess says.
“Like what? I can’t do anything. You do something. You’re the one with the dreams.”
What we really need is a way to contain Ozuno so we can get away. Like a soap bubble, only solid.
Wait. Did I just imagine something?
“Maybe I can,” I whisper.
“No maybes!” The baku succeeds in freeing herself, and she starts runn
ing in panicked circles around the throne room. Kaguya turns to me. “What does your heart tell you?”
My heart? Words are sounds of the heart. What does that mean, really?
I recall every not-nice thing I said to my mom when she got back and how deeply that hurt her. Every mean quip Lovey’s ever thrown at me.
And I remember good things, too. The way Jinx’s face lit up when my dad told her she was smart, and how she read even more warrior books after that. Peyton’s constant coaching, always telling me I can do things I think I can’t, like the time we biked up a steep hill—his cheers were invisible forces that somehow pushed me to the top.
Words do have power.
I look at Kaguya. She waits expectantly, her eyes wide, her mouth slightly open.
“I can do it,” I say aloud. “I can imagine things.”
In that moment, a bubble appears, iridescent in the white light. Inside it, Ozuno’s ash rises, then deflates, as if it needed oxygen to complete the rejuvenation.
“Yesss!” I yell. I move to Kaguya, who stands watching me with a smile, despite her messed-up head. “Did you let me? Do I…?” I’m afraid to say the words aloud. Do I have my powers back?
Kaguya smiles. “Xander. At first I thought you were unworthy, a greedy little boy.”
I can’t help but make a face.
“But then you sacrificed all your powers to help your family and friends. I realized I had misjudged you.” She picks up my hand in hers. “So I restored your dreams, too.”
That explains why Peyton has wings. “But when I tried using my powers before, I couldn’t….”
She squeezes my hand. “Only because you told yourself you could not. The power of words, Xander. What you tell yourself is just as important as what you can do. You needed to understand that.”
Xander and the Dream Thief Page 21