The Gatekeeper's Son

by C. R. Fladmark

  I looked up in surprise. “You’ve been through this, too?”

  She nodded and took another spoonful of ice cream. “I was eight. I woke up earlier than usual one morning and went outside. A thin fog hung over the grass and I felt the air ripple. Suddenly, all sorts of new sounds surrounded me—it was amazing. Every blade of grass whispered a message to me.”

  “Were you scared?”

  She thought that over for a while. “I think knowing eliminates fear. It brings a new confidence. But it was frightening to realize something had changed inside me.” She wiped her face with a napkin and smiled at me. “But it is not something to fear.”

  “So you hear messages, too?”

  “Yes, but not here. The noise here overwhelms me, as if my head is under a waterfall. I have to block everything out, but that leaves me deaf, like last night. And I do not like that.”

  “But you can hear when you’re in other places?”

  She nodded.

  “What causes that wave of energy?”

  She frowned. “You ask answers for things I have never questioned.” Then she held her hands toward the sky. “Can you feel that?”

  I glanced around. I didn’t feel a thing.

  She giggled. “Actually, I cannot right now either, but it is the earth’s energy. It is all around us, speaking to us, and if our energy is strong enough, we can disrupt the earth’s energy field and make it shift, somewhat like a strong ocean wave.” She paused and looked at me, eyebrows together. “And your energy is strong enough to do that.”

  She concentrated on her sundae until she’d cleaned the cup of every drop.

  I sighed. “Do you ever get a tingly feeling in the back of your neck?”

  “Sometimes when I eat ice cream then drink hot chocolate my head hurts,” she said, still working her spoon into the edges.

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m not talking about brain freeze.” I hesitated, unsure how to explain myself. “I get this … this tingling sensation before something bad happens—which is pretty much every time I’m with you.”

  She laughed. “Did you feel it last night?”

  “Yeah, right before the guy hit me with the wood.”

  “Any time today?”

  I nodded. “On the cable car.”

  She stood up and glanced toward the wastebasket. Then she threw her empty cups and they both went in, two perfect shots from eight feet away. She turned back to me. “There are many ways to sense things,” she said, her eyes serious. “I suppose this tingle you feel may be a form of intuition. I have heard of such things, but intuition is a woman’s gift. At least where I come from.”

  That’s what Okaasan had told me. “And you come from Japan, right?”

  She paused. “Yes.”

  “And you’re not a crazy assassin or anything?”

  She laughed as she shouldered her pack. “No.”

  I nodded and threw my cup toward the wastebasket. It missed by a mile.

  We left Ghirardelli’s and walked down to the beach, past artists under white umbrellas, their crafts on display. We stopped to look at a tall sailing ship docked at the pier, and Shoko pointed at the Golden Gate Bridge arching toward the low hills far across the bay. Cyclists, joggers, and couples holding hands passed by, everyone enjoying the warm weather. Three teenage girls wearing bikinis lay sunbathing on the thin strip of sand.

  Shoko started laughing. “They are almost naked!”

  I blushed.

  After that, we walked along the shoreline in silence. The more I processed my thoughts, the more restless I became. The silence thickened and became uncomfortable.

  “Shoko, what the hell is going on?”

  She walked past me and stopped in the shade of a large concrete sculpture. It took a while for her to reply, and when she did, her uncertain tone surprised me. “I do not know how I can explain this.” She kicked a dandelion head, sending its seeds off with the breeze.

  “I’m ready to hear anything.”

  She gave me a tiny nod. “Junya, I was not supposed to come here, but I heard about Edward from my mother and became curious. I wanted to know more about him, so I watched his house for a while, wondering how I could get inside. Then I saw you.”

  I let out a deep sigh. “And you zapped me and woke me up—somehow.”

  She nodded. “Yes, but I did not know that until later. After I saw you, I followed you to the library and …” She smiled. “I knew how to get you to help me.”

  Judging by the way she laughed, I must have turned eighteen shades of red.

  “Boys are easy to manipulate.”

  “You think this is funny?” I felt like such an idiot. “I let you into my grandpa’s house! I let you steal his journal! Do you know how much trouble I’m in?”

  She stared at me through squinted eyes, her face blank now, perhaps confused.

  “I told you, I did not steal it—”

  “There you go again! One minute you’re this … this overbearing bitch, and the next you’re all sweet and cute and …” I rubbed my hands through my hair. “Everything you do is an act.”

  Her eyes narrowed, but she looked hurt.

  “I bet you didn’t even bring the journal!”

  Now she looked sad. “I said I would,” she whispered as she pulled the leather book from her backpack and handed it to me. “I told you at his house that I would return it.” She dropped her pack to the grass and sat down beside it, landing with a thump. “I am sorry I tricked you. I am sorry I took the journal. I am sorry I did not tell you I could speak English. And I am sorry for whatever I have done or will do in the future that will make you angry.”

  “Give me a break,” I said.

  “I said last night I wanted to talk and get to know you better,” she said without looking up. “I did not come here to argue.”

  I wanted to say more, but I was emotionally exhausted, my brain too overwhelmed to keep up. I looked away. I wanted to run—from her, from all of this.

  The message was soft but clear, like a bell in the distance. The grass at my feet, the rustle of the trees, even the air whispered to me and told me to stay and listen to her. Surprised, I turned and when my eyes met Shoko’s, I saw a girl who looked as confused and sad as I was.

  I sat on the grass near her and stared out at the water. A tugboat chugged by the pier. It swayed from side to side, rocked by its own wake. I felt like that tugboat.

  I turned to Shoko and stared into her eyes, but they were like pools, too deep to see the bottom. “I need to know which Shoko is the real Shoko.”

  “I am always me.” She brushed a strand of hair from her face. “Perhaps I have more pride than I should—my mother says that—but I am the best at whatever I do, a leader of my classmates. I am not like people here, who act so proud but are nothing, like a golden temple with no foundation beneath it. They are too dependent, self-loving, and deluded, and yet they are oblivious to the evil all around us.” She swept her arm to take in the whole city. “Emotions are a weakness.”

  I let out a grunt. “That explains a lot.”

  She scowled. “I thought you disliked lies. Is the truth too painful?”

  “Brutal truth is my mother’s specialty.”

  Instead of responding, Shoko gave a small shrug and looked at the water. I stared at the side of her face, the outline of her jaw. She was so strong-willed, so sure of herself. I wished I could be more like that.

  “You’ve got that whole emotional weakness thing wrong,” I said after a while. “We fight the hardest for the things we care about the most. What else is worth fighting for?”

  She looked at me. “Duty and honor. There is nothing else.”

  “I think it’s sort of the same thing.”

  She eyed me with suspicion. “Which one sent you into the dark streets last night?”

  I hesitated. “I saw a girl in danger. I had to go.”

  She stared at me. “But you had no duty toward this girl, and certainly no emotional attachment.” She
shook her head. “I would not have done the same thing.”

  “Yeah, but aren’t you glad I did?”

  She rolled her eyes and leaned back.

  “How come I can’t feel you now?” I felt myself flush. “I mean, feel anything from you.”

  She didn’t react. “I hide my presence here.”

  “How—?”

  “I do not want my presence to be known here,” she said, a small smile on her lips now. “But I do not mind if you feel me.”

  I swallowed hard. “You mean—”

  “My energy,” she said and I looked away, glad her eyes remained closed so she couldn’t see me blush. After a while, she rolled onto her side and started picking at the clover. Sometimes she looked so young.

  “How old are you?”

  She thought for a moment, apparently having to concentrate. “It depends on how you calculate it, but … about fifteen.”

  I nodded, pleased and confused at the same time. I noticed the journal lying on the grass beside her leg. I reached over and picked it up. “Thank you.”

  “You are welcome,” she said as she leaned up on one elbow and watched a floatplane rise off the water and soar over the bridge.

  “That is so awesome!” she said in English. I laughed at her enthusiasm about such simple things. Then she turned her attention back to me. “It was interesting but also sad.”

  “Why?”

  “Edward had one small moment to act that day in the desert, but my mother has no such excuse. She could have sought him out, but she was not brave enough. And I understand. Such a decision would take a will of iron.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “I thought emotions were a weakness.”

  Her eyes narrowed.

  I held up my hand. “Never mind. What does the desert—and your mom and my Grandpa—have to do with you and me and this weird energy?”

  She brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and swept it over her ear. “What do you think is happening?”

  “I … I don’t know. I keep searching for a reasonable explanation. I hate this and love it at the same time. There’s so much …” I squeezed my eyes shut. “All of this is too much.”

  “Do you think you are an ordinary person, that all this is normal?”

  I didn’t look at her. “I’m an ordinary guy,” I said. “And no, this ain’t normal.”

  “Do you think I am ordinary?”

  “You’re definitely not normal.”

  “So, what do you think I am?”

  I let out a soft laugh. “Well … I know you’re no exchange student, but then again, I do play too many video games.”

  “I will not ask what a video game is.”

  “You see, that’s just it. You don’t know about stuff you should know about. And you’ve got some spiritual or magic power that can affect others… and you fight like crazy.” I looked up at the sky and grinned. “I’d say you’re a warrior monk from the Shaolin Temple.”

  She made a face.

  “Or maybe you’re a ninja,” I said. “Your masters keep you hidden away, train you all day, and send you out at night to kill people.” I smiled at her. “How was that?”

  She smiled and shook her head and then reached out and touched my knee. Her energy flowed into me again.

  My eyes met hers. “Your energy is so familiar,” I said. “I feel peaceful when I’m with you.”

  “Even when I am a bitch?”

  I looked down. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”

  She nodded. “I also feel different when I am around you. Sitting next to you like this, my feelings get all tangled up. I feel happy and yet …” she shook her head. “Such feelings will make this assignment difficult.”

  My eyes narrowed. “Assignment?”

  Her eyes met mine. “Will you trust me?”

  I swallowed the lump in my throat. “I don’t think I have any choice.”

  “All right.” She let out a nervous laugh. “I do not think I am supposed to tell you any of this.” She looked down. “But my … teachers have decided I must complete an assignment here.”

  “OK …”

  She took a deep breath and put her hands together in front of her chest in a prayer position. “Please do not get angry at me,” she whispered. “I did not mean for this to happen, and we have no idea how it did happen. You must understand that.”

  I leaned back, my hands against the cool grass, waiting, holding my breath.

  She took a breath in. “You are my assignment.”

  I did my best to remain calm.

  “Last night I told my … my teachers everything, what happened from the first time I saw you. I got in big trouble and they sent me back.”

  “You flew to Japan and back in one day?”

  “They sent me back because of what happened—your awakening.” Her face was tight with apprehension. “You must realize that what you are experiencing—these feelings, this energy—are not normal. My Elders are very interested. They want to know why you have these abilities and want you to use them wisely.” She managed a weak smile. “I am here to help you, to teach you what I can, and to protect you.”

  I forced a laugh. “You know, that ninja-monk theory doesn’t sound so crazy anymore.” I took a deep breath. “Protect me from who?”

  “Mostly from yourself,” she said. “You do not want to be setting off tsunamis all the time, do you?”

  “So tell me what’s happening to me.”

  “Well,” she said, sounding far less confident than I’d have liked. “That is what we are going to find out.” She grinned at me. “This will be fun!”

  I frowned at her. “You’re not much of a teacher.”

  Her smile faded. “I cannot teach until I know what you need to know.” She sat up and took a ceremonial poise. “We must make a pact. Then I will become your master.”

  “Whoa, hold on! I’ve had it with people telling me what to do.” And technically, I think Okaasan already considered herself my master.

  “Tradition must be followed!” she snapped.

  “And why is that?”

  “Because that is the way it is!”

  “Well, I’m not doing it that way.”

  She glared at me. “Rules are rules.”

  I leaned toward her. “If it was a rule to kill yourself when you turn sixteen, would you?”

  “Of course.”

  I blinked. “Well, that’s stupid.”

  Now she blinked.

  “Didn’t you break a rule when you sneaked to San Francisco?”

  She was silent. I stared at her, growing frustrated, and I guess I must have let some of my energy escape me. My body jerked as she hit me—not with her hands but with energy. I’m sure she would have been glowing if it had been dark enough. I fell backward, but I managed to listen, too. Amid her energy wave came a barrage of emotions, mainly anxiety and indecision.

  My eyes widened. “I felt you.” She’d told me something, whether she meant to or not. “You can’t be my master if you don’t have a clue what you’re doing.” I reached out and tapped her foot. “Think up a different way for us to work together, something on your own.”

  She stared at the water. After a few minutes, she sighed. “How about a vow of trust … between us?”

  I smiled. “Agreed.” I held out my hand to shake hers, but she ignored it.

  “We need some sake.” When she saw my expression, she said, “When two people form a bond, the sharing of sake is like a solemn oath.”

  I reached for my backpack. “I have a bottle of apple juice. No preservatives added.”

  She frowned, but a moment later a small grin appeared on her face. “Well, it is from the Mother Earth.”

  She moved so we were face-to-face, sitting cross-legged an arm’s length apart. We both took a sip of the juice, first her then me, and for some reason the act felt momentous, almost intimate. I found myself blushing again, but for the first time in days, I felt good, like the world was full of new, exciting possib
ilities.

  “So, where do we start?”

  She stood up. “We should return the journal.”

  CHAPTER

  12

  It was after four when Shoko and I crossed the boulevard of the Crescent. Grandpa’s house was quiet, no cars on the driveway. I punched the intercom button.

  “Good afternoon, James.” It sounded like the same guy from Sunday.

  “Hello there,” I said, “just me and my friend again.”

  There was a long pause.

  “I’m sorry for the wait,” the voice said. “You’re not scheduled for a visit and the Chairman isn’t home.” Another pause. “I’ll have to check with Mr. Barrymore.”

  I looked sideways at Shoko. “I don’t need Barrymore’s permission to be here.”

  “There’s … been a change to your status.”

  I glared at the camera. “Tell me.”

  “Yes, sir!” I could almost hear him sit taller in his chair. “You can’t be at the house without a protection team.” I looked at Shoko. She was staring at me with an odd expression.

  “I want to go in.”

  “I’m afraid I can’t—”

  I tried to imitate Grandpa. “Open the gate now!”

  “Yes, sir!” A moment later, the gate clicked and began to open. “But I’ll still need to inform Mr. Barrymore.”

  “No you don’t.” I looked up at the cameras. “Are these recording?”

  “Yes, 24/7,” he said.

  “Can the recording be deleted?”

  “Yes, … but I’m not authorized to—”

  “You are now. Do it, then forget you saw us here today.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  I sneaked another glance at Shoko. I couldn’t believe this was working—but now I was worried. Had Grandpa somehow figured out the journal was missing? Probably not, but why else wouldn’t they let me in the house?

  The house was dark and quiet. The flowers on the foyer table, the bouquet from my birthday, drooped toward the dusty tabletop.

  “William?”

  There was no reply, which was odd but also a relief.

  I turned to Shoko. “Let’s go.” I climbed the stairs, two at a time, with her following close behind. I felt like a burglar, but the journal was back in the drawer within minutes.