The Gatekeeper's Son

by C. R. Fladmark

  “Who are you?” he asked, his face serious.

  “I’m Junya. What’s your name?”

  “Taro.”

  My eyes scanned the forest behind them. “Are you hunting?” There was no arrow notched on his bow.

  He looked confused. “We are practicing shooting intruders.”

  I nodded and stood up. “Did you find any?”

  “Perhaps. Where are you going?”

  “To the shrine. Is it far?”

  He pointed with his bow. “It is that way, not far.” Then he looked me up and down. “You are not from here.”

  I nodded. “No, I’m not. Are you gonna shoot me?”

  “No. If you are bad, you will be dead soon enough.” With that, he turned and walked back into the trees, waving for his band to follow him.

  About a half-hour later, I broke out of the forest and into another field of knee-high grass and wildflowers. I took about ten steps before my body went limp and I had to sit down. The shrine was just across the meadow, towering above the trees on thick red posts. Close by, a small house with a steep straw roof stood against the edge of the forested hills. It was the house I’d seen in my dream, with the girl watching from the doorway. I felt energy, something that made me turn and scan the forest.

  The Gatekeepers were coming.

  I stood up and waited. I wanted to see what Grandpa must have seen that first time.

  There was a shimmering, like heat waves distorting the air and blurring the trees. Then figures began to materialize, three women down on one knee, their left palms pressed against the ground. They were beautiful, powerful, and their eyes shone with confidence. Their long black hair was tied in ponytails and topped with wide woven hats, peaked like low roofs. All were dressed in flowing green robes, the color of the underside of a leaf, the hems reaching just above the ground. Sleek muscular arms and legs showed through slits in the material. One woman looked older than Okaasan, but the other two were girls about the same age as Shoko. The older woman’s robe was tied with a wide golden band, the girls’ with plain braided belts. Each carried a katana.

  At first they didn’t move. They stood like statues, blending into the forest. Then as one they came toward me, their steps light and graceful. One of the girls notched an arrow onto her long bow. The older woman’s hand went to the hilt of her katana.

  I stood rooted to the earth, staring at her in amazement. I raised my hand. The older one was within a dozen feet. She faltered and fell to her knees, as if she’d hit an invisible wall. The other girls stopped, bewildered.

  I studied the woman while she stared back at me. She was beautiful, but her heart was heavy, a burden that dragged down her every thought.

  “You must be Tomi.”

  She blinked twice and bowed, touching her head to the grass. The two girls dropped to the ground like stones and bowed as well, although I doubt they knew why.

  Tomi looked up at me from the ground. “Are you … a god?”

  I laughed. “I am Junya, Edward’s grandson.”

  Tomi’s mouth dropped open and she stared wide-eyed as recognition dawned in her eyes.

  “Yes … you have his features …” She collected herself. “How … Is Edward well? Did he find what he sought?”

  “He’s rich and powerful.”

  A soft breeze swept across the meadow.

  “Did he tell you about me?”

  I nodded. “He did.”

  I didn’t know what she was thinking, but I was trying to gather the courage to ask the question, and that was harder than facing a drawn sword. I took a deep breath.

  “Do you remember my mother, Misako?”

  Tomi studied me awhile before she answered. When she did, her voice was different. “I remember her.”

  “Is she a Gatekeeper?”

  Tomi stood and brushed off her knees. “She left here before her final assignment. She can never be one of us.”

  “She’s never been back?”

  “It is forbidden … though she was never one to follow the rules.” Her lip curled. “I heard that she finished her assignment on the other side, where she was granted the ring.”

  “What was my mother’s assignment?”

  “Ask your mother why she really married your father.”

  Something shifted deep inside me and turned cold. I felt as if I saw into her more clearly than I’d ever seen anyone. “You couldn’t go across to Edward if you wanted to. There’s no purity left in you.”

  Her body jerked as if I’d struck her.

  “If it’s your duty to kill me, you’d better get on with it,” I said. “You wouldn’t want to screw up twice, would you?”

  She lurched forward, but again she faltered—and not because of me. We all froze as a warm wind, its sound like air through a flute, drifted across the meadow toward us.

  “Let him pass, Gatekeeper.” The voice came from the wind itself. “Would he be here if we did not permit it?”

  Tomi dropped flat onto the ground, her body pressed against the earth as if she were trying to avoid an inbound missile. I didn’t know what to do, so I just waited, glued to the spot.

  It took a few minutes before Tomi raised her head, looking amazed. The two young girls, as if by some prearranged plan, ran away across the meadow toward the buildings in the shrine compound. I was about to follow them when Shoko’s energy reached me, stronger than ever before, and I turned to see her burst from the little house nearby. She ran toward us across the meadow in bare feet.

  Shoko skidded to a stop beside Tomi, breathless. She pointed at me. “This is Junya.”

  Tomi kept her eyes on the ground. “We have met.”

  “I heard what happened.” Shoko led me into the meadow, away from Tomi. “My mother did not know the gods brought you here.”

  I pointed toward the shrine. “I wanted to thank the gods for letting me see this. It’s wonderful.” But now all that peace was tainted.

  Ask your mother why she really married your father.

  Shoko laid her hand on my forearm. “Your energy is darting about like minnows in a pond,” she said in a low voice. “What troubles you?”

  “Tomi just told me … She said my mom was … is …”

  Her eyes narrowed. “She told you what?”

  I took a step away from her and her hand dropped back to her side. That feeling of betrayal leaped back to the surface.

  “She said Okaasan married my dad as part of her final assignment.”

  “Why?”

  “How would I know?” I stopped to suck air into my lungs. “What am I supposed to do with that little gem of information?”

  “What do you want to do with it?”

  “I don’t know. All this is so … premeditated.” I spread my arms as if they could gather it all together into some coherent explanation. “Part of me wishes this was just another dream. You were there—”

  “I was in your dream?”

  I paused.

  She flashed me a mischievous smile. “Perhaps this is my dream and you are in it.” She wore a simple kimono, light and thin, tied with a single belt. She looked beautiful standing among the wildflowers.

  While I stood there, awkward, she looked up at me. “Is your mother content?”

  I shrugged. “I guess?”

  “Does your father appear unhappy?”

  “Not at all,” I said, “but he will be when he hears about this.”

  She shook her head and sighed. “You say the stupidest things.”

  “What!?”

  “What does this matter if they are both happy?”

  “Are you kidding? It’s another lie!”

  “Answer the question.”

  I glared at her and then turned and started to walk away. “I’m going to the shrine,” I said over my shoulder.

  “Do not do that, Junya.” There was an edge in her voice.

  I didn’t hear her move, but a second later I was on my back with her straddling me. The air whooshed out of my lungs, tak
ing most of my anger with it.

  She poked my chest. “Did your mother tell you where she and your father joined their bodies to create you?”

  “Are you kidding?” I said, my voice about an octave higher than usual. I wasn’t sure what she was getting at, and anyway it was hard to focus with her sitting on top of me like that.

  Her face changed. “You must work harder keeping your mind closed.” Then she looked at me in surprise.

  My face flushed. “I’m sorry,” I muttered, expecting to see Tomi running toward us with a raised sword any minute. “It kind of …does that … on its own.”

  She nodded. “I see.” She moved farther up my hips. “May I ask another question?”

  “Shoot,” I said, my voice strained. “That means ‘go ahead’, by the way.”

  “Yes, I knew that one.” She looked pleased with herself. “Up until the day we met, did you like your life?”

  I had to give that some thought before I answered.

  “Well, there are lots of things I’d like to change, but … yeah, I did. I have great friends, plans for the future—lots of good things. Plus, no one was lying to me or trying to kill me.” But I never had a girl straddle me.

  She picked up a small flower and made a loop.

  “But you were strolling aimlessly through a dream.” She poked my chest again. “It seems to me that, like your parents’ lovemaking, you do not need to know everything to be happy.”

  “Could you stop talking about sex?”

  “I did not realize I was.” She grinned. “With the awakening of your abilities, knowing this place exists and that you are a part of this, would you still choose the life you had over this life you believe is a bad dream?”

  While I considered that, she added another flower to the chain she was weaving.

  “I don’t know. I—”

  “To me, your old life and your dream life are almost the same,” she said. “You still have your friends and your future—and now you have this.” Her tone turned serious. “If you want to know everything, start by accepting what is right in front of you.”

  “But Okaasan—”

  “Oh, gods!” She sighed and looked up at the shrine. “Could I not have a simple assignment? Perhaps kill an intruder or seal up a gateway?” Then she glared down at me. “Do you know why this is so hard for you?”

  “Because you’re not making it very easy?”

  “No! It is because you think you have a choice!”

  I stared up at the shrine, which glowed in the midday sun.

  “You will help me?” I said.

  She leaned forward and draped the flower chain around my neck. “What do you think I am doing?”

  I took in a deep breath. She smelled good.

  She smiled. “Thank you.”

  “Stop doing that.”

  She laughed. “You left your mind’s door wide open again.”

  “How come I can’t hear anyone’s thoughts here?”

  She shrugged. “Everyone keeps their minds closed. Can you imagine life if everyone could hear your thoughts?”

  “I don’t need to imagine it,” I said. “I’ve lived it for sixteen years.”

  She stood and offered me her hand, which I took. She tugged hard and managed to get me off the ground.

  I spun in a circle, my heart feeling lighter than it had in days—maybe ever.

  Shoko smiled. “I believe your heart is now in a place suitable for praying to the gods.”

  The staircase, made of thick wooden planks, rose up before me. I suddenly felt so insignificant, like Earth compared with the entire Milky Way.

  I started to climb, tentative at first. About halfway up, just as I had in my dream, I stopped and rested my hand on the wooden railing. The ocean, the distant green hills, the valley thick with crops and fruit trees, the straw-roofed houses clustered together—it was exactly as it had been in my dream. I looked toward the little house in the meadow. Shoko stood at the door, her hand shading her eyes. I waved and she waved back.

  I resumed my ascent to the top of the stairs. The climb went on and on, the ground far below now. My heart began to pound, and every few steps I paused to fill my lungs. The closer I got to the top, the harder it was to breathe.

  I stopped on the last step, the one below the platform where the shrine sat, and gazed at the building. The wood looked old, the pieces fitted together with skill, like nothing I’d seen before. The door was right in front of me.

  It was faint at first, a sound so low I didn’t perceive it as anything other than the breeze. Then, as it had in the meadow, the air became a beautiful rush of music, a symphony of peace and joy unlike anything I’d ever known. It swirled around me, increasing in force until I had to lean into it to stay upright.

  It overwhelmed me.

  The silence made me open my eyes. I was on the ground at the foot of the staircase, sprawled on the gravel. Not a leaf stirred. No child yelled and no dog barked. I pulled in a deep breath, sucking in the clean air until my lungs felt about to burst. As I let the air escape between my lips, sounds of life filled the air once again. I gazed up at the shrine.

  Everything was the same—except me. I felt brand new.

  Shoko was on her knees beside me, her hands together. When she saw me move, she clapped—two sharp cracks in the stillness.

  “You have been gone a while, Junya.”

  “Gone where?”

  She shrugged. “If you do not know where, then how can you expect me to?”

  “I … was I up there?”

  An eyebrow went up. “Do not be ridiculous. That is the house of O̅kuninushi.”

  “I’m pretty sure I was.”

  She stared up the staircase, a perplexed look on her face. Then her eyes widened and she dropped her face to the dirt in a low bow. A moment later, as if she’d been commanded to, she stood and strode toward a small building on the far side of the compound, about where the gift shops were on my side. As I stood to follow, I glanced toward the top of the shrine.

  “Thank you, O̅kuninushi,” I whispered.

  Shoko emerged from the building with a light-colored bokuto as long as a katana. There were other people in the compound, but no one paid us any attention. When we met in the center of the compound, she swept her kimono between her legs and knelt before me. She handed the bokuto up to me with both hands.

  “What’s this?” I asked, in awe of both its beauty and her gesture. I took it from her as if she were handing me a newborn baby. The bokuto had good balance and it was heavy, more like steel than wood. But there was warmth and exceptional smoothness that felt surreal. And I was sure it vibrated—just a little shudder—when I touched it.

  “It is shirakashi, the hardest Japanese white oak,” Shoko said, “but this one is made from special trees, blessed by the gods.” She smiled up at me. “It is for you.”

  I shook my head and tried to hand it back.

  “I can’t accept this. I’m not worthy.”

  “Our worth is decided by others,” she said. “You would risk offending the gods—or me—by refusing their gift?”

  I dropped to my knees and placed the bokuto on the ground in front of me. I bowed, first to thank the gods, then to the bokuto, and finally to Shoko.

  “It is our pleasure.”

  “Did they tell you to do this?”

  She stared at me in silence for a long moment. “The words of the gods can only be heard by the Elders.” She stood up. “Now we will return you to your world—after I get changed.”

  “You are getting lighter,” Shoko said as we appeared at the back of the shrine, the one on the ground in modern Izumo. “Are you doing anything different?”

  I shrugged. “I was thinking about coming here as you said it—”

  Darkness flooded over me, far worse than the last time I’d crossed back. Shoko gripped my hand and I clung to her as negative energy threatened to swallow me. I heard her voice from far above me.

  “You do not need me, Junya. C
ome back.”

  I exhaled and the feeling lifted. I opened my eyes to the evening sky.

  “How long were we over there?”

  Shoko looked around. “A few hours. You have been gone longer here.”

  “There’s a difference?”

  She gave me an odd look. “Why do you think Tomi is so much younger than Edward now?”

  CHAPTER

  25

  I walked into Grandmother’s house and slid the door closed behind me. I closed my eyes and breathed in the scents of Okaasan’s cooking. It reminded me of when I was little, which made this all the more difficult.

  I’d left Shoko outside in the alley, holding my bokuto. I needed to do this alone.

  “I’m back,” I called from the entryway.

  “Welcome back.” A moment later Okaasan came to the door to greet me. She looked innocent enough if you ignored the large white bandage on her arm.

  “You were a Gatekeeper.” It wasn’t a question.

  She held her breath for a few seconds. “I left all that behind. I’m your mother, nothing more.” Her hands twisted her apron and I stared at the ring on her middle finger.

  “If you were a Gatekeeper, what would that make me?”

  She was silent for a long time. “A Gatekeeper’s son, I suppose.” She lifted her chin. “It isn’t your place to be anything else.”

  “So why—”

  “Are you going to make Shoko stand out there all night?”

  Okaasan laid out dishes of food and we sat cross-legged at the low table to eat. Shoko sat beside me, across from Okaasan. Her only greeting to Okaasan had been a slight nod, and the tension in the room was unbelievable.

  I studied Okaasan as if seeing her for the first time. The lines around her eyes and mouth seemed deeper, but she still looked younger than she should. It had nagged at me over the years, a slight tug on my cerebral coat sleeve, but never enough to question it. Now I couldn’t ignore it: she was aging more slowly than the rest of us. Would Dad and I keep getting older while she and Shoko stayed young?

  We began taking food with our chopsticks, but I noticed Shoko glance at the bandage on Okaasan’s arm several times.