Aragami: A Tale of the Previous Universe (Divine Protector Book 5)

by Scott Kinkade

He nodded. “Good. You got what you wanted.”

  “Of course I did,” she said. “I’m a McDonnell, and we always get what we want through sheer goddamn determination.”

  “You did remember to heal him and wipe his memory of this event before you finished him off, right?”

  She rolled her eyes and produced a palm-sized silver disk from her uniform. “Duh. I’m not stupid. He won’t remember a thing.” Amnesia wasn’t an uncommon occurrence for the recently deceased. No one would question it. Thankfully, the Memory Erasure Unit rarely failed.

  “Well, it seems things are looking up for you. And one more thing will be ‘looking up’ for you later,” he promised.

  She smiled at him. No way in hell.

  * * *

  Around 5:00 p.m., there was a knock at Martin’s door. He opened it and, sure enough, there was Betty there, her eyes filled with concern, as well as another emotion he couldn’t identify. “I’ve been so worried about you.”

  “It’s fine, really,” he said. “I’ll be all right.”

  Her hands moved about nervously. “But how do you know? Whoever’s trying to kill you, they’re still out there.”

  “I don’t think you’d believe me if I explained it.”

  “You already said that! Please. Just try explaining it.”

  He resigned himself to having to do this. “All right. I’ll tell you. The truth is, I think someone’s looking out for me.”

  She folded her arms skeptically. “What do you mean?”

  He explained, “I must have a guardian angel. The last few attempts on my life were stopped by someone or something. When I almost crashed my car, there were hand prints on the back bumper as if someone had grabbed it. Not only that, but there were lines behind the car like it had been dragging something.”

  “That doesn’t prove anything,” she said.

  “If that were all, maybe I’d say you were right. But I was inside the cabin when it exploded. Right before it did, a shimmering form appeared in front of me.”

  “Like The Hunter?” The Hunter was an old movie from the 80’s about a cloaked alien that hunted soldiers in the jungles of South America. It starred Bruno Glutenheiser.

  “Exactly. Well, not exactly, because I think this thing protected me. It shielded me from the blast.”

  Betty began moving about the apartment. “You expect me to believe that?”

  “I told you, you wouldn’t.”

  She stopped in front of the altar table and looked at the picture. “Who’s this?”

  “Oh, right,” he said. “This is the first time you’ve been to my apartment. That’s my wife. Was my wife.”

  “You were married?” He nodded. “I had no idea.”

  “I don’t like to talk about it.”

  She stared at the photo. “She’s beautiful. What’s her name?”

  He knew at that moment he’d have to say the name he didn’t speak of except to family. “Serika.”

  “That’s a pretty name.”

  He nodded. “It’s Japanese. She was half Japanese.”

  She asked, “You got divorced?”

  Martin shook his head grimly. “No. She died.”

  She turned away from the photo to look him in the eyes. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

  “No,” he said. “I’ve been holding it in for so long, letting it eat away at me. I think I need to tell someone this story.”

  “Why?”

  He balled a fist, the emotional pain threatening to break him. “I’m the one who killed her.”

  Thursday

  (Part Two)

  11

  Six years ago.

  He awoke to the sound of the local radio station coming from his alarm clock. He quickly shoved the sheets aside and hopped out of bed before strolling over to the clock sitting on his desk and turning it off.

  Across the room, his roommate Cid stirred in his own bed. “You’re up early.”

  “Hell, yeah,” Martin said. “It’s the first day of college. Aren’t you excited?”

  Cid fought to shake the grogginess from his eyes. “I’ll be happy once I get some caffeine in me. Until then, please refrain from sucking me into your happy world.”

  “No can do. Admission into my world is mandatory.” Martin went over to the closet and began perusing shirts.

  “Just grab a shirt already.” Martin could almost hear him rolling his eyes.

  “I have to look good. First impressions are everything.”

  Behind him, he heard Cid lumber out of bed. “Look good for who? You don’t even know who you’ll be meeting.”

  Martin turned around. “That’s exactly my point! I could meet anyone today. Suppose I meet a beautiful girl. If I don’t look my best, she’ll be like, ‘Get thee away from me, you shabby simpleton!’”

  By this point, Cid was getting dressed himself. “Girls don’t really talk like that. Seriously, have you ever had a girlfriend?”

  “I’m sorry, but that information’s on a need to know basis.”

  “That pretty much tells me all I need to know.” He managed to get dressed while Martin was still deciding on an essential pair of pants. “Anyway, what’s your first class?”

  “World Lit.”

  Cid headed to the mini fridge and extracted a can of Starbacks Mocha Frappuccino. He proceeded to down it within moments. “That’s good. Remember to ask them how women talk in the present day.”

  Martin patted him on the back. “My friend, all I have to do is observe women and I’ll learn all I need to do.”

  “That’s great. Go observe them already. Don’t do it in strip clubs, though. Those women aren’t the ones you want to observe.” He cocked an inquisitive eyebrow. “Or maybe they are? Which reminds me, I’m going to be watching Babe Runner, the great sci-fi porno, tonight. Maybe that’s the kind of woman you’re looking for.”

  “Nay,” Martin said. “I want a girl who’s pure of heart. And here at UCO, I shall find one.”

  “Awesome. You’re late for class, by the way.”

  “Oh, shit!”

  * * *

  Martin scrambled across the campus of the University of Central Oklahoma in Edmond. This was not an easy trek as the Liberal Arts building was located on the far eastern side of campus. Thankfully, this place wasn’t huge like Oklahoma State University in Stillwater.

  He steamrolled into the building, up the steps to the second floor and straight into the classroom. All eyes became trained on the weirdo who had just barged in. A nervous and out of breath Martin could only say, “Uh… hi.”

  “What’s your name?” the professor said. He was your stereotypical college professor, with clean haircut, glasses and fancy jacket.

  “Martin McDonnell, sir.”

  “You’re late, Mr. McDonnell.”

  “I’m sorry, sir.”

  “Please find a seat.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Martin saw a few empty desks and began contemplating which to sit at. Suddenly, however, his eyes locked onto a vision of beauty in the front row. She was the kind of female the old masters would never have been able to paint. They wouldn’t have even tried. If his breath wasn’t already gone, she would have taken it away.

  Without hesitation, he took the empty seat next to her. For the next forty-five minutes, the professor droned on about Dante and Akutagawa, but Martin was too focused on the beauty to his left. Her attire wasn’t anything special—a white t-shirt with Asian characters on it and khaki slacks—but she just seemed to fit her clothing so well.

  He had to learn her name.

  After class, he waited for her in the hallway. He untied his shoes and slowly began tying them so he’d have an excuse for lingering.

  She was the last to leave. He managed to time it so he finished tying his shoes just as she emerged from the classroom. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” she replied.

  He instantly ran into a problem: He didn’t know what to say. Her beauty was literally making him st
upid. “Hi.”

  She smiled weakly. “You kinda said that already.”

  He laughed nervously. What the hell was he going to do? Suddenly, though, it hit him. He had nothing, so why not be honest about it. “I’m sorry, I had this whole routine ready to go but you’re so beautiful it’s been blown from my mind.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet,” she said. “Why not start with your name?”

  “R-Right. I’m Martin. Martin McDonnell.” He held out his hand.

  She accepted the shake. “Nice to meet you, Martin McDonnell. I’m Serika. Serika Evans.”

  “‘Serika’? I’ve never heard that name before.”

  “It’s Japanese. My mother is Japanese and my father is American.”

  “Ohhhh, then those symbols on your shirt…”

  奇跡

  “Correct,” she said. “They’re kanji. It says ‘kiseki.’ That means ‘miracle’ in Japanese. I’m an only child. My parents almost weren’t able to conceive me, so they’ve always called me their miracle. It’s heavy-handed, I know, but my mother bought me this shirt during her last trip to Tokyo, and it means so much to her. I wear it out of love.”

  Martin nodded. “I’m sure you live up to the nickname.”

  Her smile broadened. “Well, it’s not enough for me to be a miracle. I want to create miracles for others. That’s why I’m in the UCO veterinary program.”

  Holy crap, he had only gone to one class and he’d already found her: the girl who was pure of heart. “Wow, this must be… what’s the Japanese word for destiny?”

  “Well, there’s more than one. You could go with ‘unmei’ or ‘shukumei.’ I’m not real clear on the differences between them. You’d have to ask one of the many native Japanese students here. The International House across the way on Chowning would be a good place to find one.”

  He now had a hook. “I’ll be honest with you. I don’t know the first thing about Japan. Maybe you could teach me?”

  “And what would be in it for me?” she asked jokingly.

  In response, he reached into his wallet and pulled out a card. “I play bass in a 70’s funk band. You should come watch us perform tomorrow night.” He handed her the card.

  “You have a business card for a band?”

  “Sure. We’re always looking for new gigs, and we give the cards out to whoever might be interested.”

  She studied it. “All right. Where are you playing?”

  “At Leroy’s across the street on 2nd. We start at 7:00.”

  She studied the card. “Maybe I’ll see you there, then.” She began walking away.

  “I’ve got a date with a beautiful woman,” Martin said excitedly under his breath.

  “It’s not a date,” she said. “And I’m not always a woman. Today I just felt like having a vagina.”

  God, he really hoped that was a joke.

  * * *

  The next night, Martin made his way to Leroy’s with bass in hand. Run by an ex-football start, the restaurant was a popular establishment in Edmond. Numerous football memorabilia hung on the wall next to pictures of Leroy in his prime. The restaurant specialized in bar-b-que and southern comfort food. Martin enjoyed eating here. In fact, that was how he had met Leroy. The owner had been here one day and was complaining about not having any live entertainment. Martin gave him their card, and now this was a semi-regular thing for the band.

  It was a packed house tonight. The band set up on stage while even more people gathered to eat and listen to them. But where was Serika?

  Martin’s heart lit up when he spotted her sitting at a table not too far away. She smiled when their eyes met.

  Fate. This was definitely fate. Definitely shumei.

  Before too long, their front man grabbed the mic. “Ladies and turkeys, thank you for coming out to hear us tonight. We are OJ and the Revolutions Per Second, and we are going to take you on an out-of-this-world voyage to the far reaches of the Funk Galaxy. I’m OJ, your Sultan of Soul, and we’ve got Trevor on drums, Steve on guitar and Martin on bass. Now, are your bags packed and ready for the journey ahead?” The crowd cheered. “OK. We have received permission for take-off, and now it’s time to get funky!”

  The main lights dimmed, and different lights of every color began beaming down onto the audience to take them on their journey.

  An hour later, the concert concluded to a wave of applause and most of the audience exited the restaurant. Martin was happy to see Serika stick around.

  She came over to the stage. “That was awesome!”

  “Thanks,” he said as he put his bass guitar back in its case. “It’s OJ that makes us awesome. He just has an energy about him.”

  “But OJ couldn’t do it without your bass playing.”

  He smiled. “True enough. OK, I’ve decided. I will take a little credit.”

  She returned the smile. “My, how modest. Well, a deal’s a deal. You showed me a great time, so I’ll teach you Japanese. Meet me in the library tomorrow night.”

  Inwardly, he gave himself a fist pump. “I’ll be there!”

  12

  “‘I want to watch a movie’.”

  “Boku wa eiga wo mite imasu.”

  “Not quite. You just used the ‘-te’ form. You want to use the ‘-tai’ form. You said ‘I am watching a movie.’”

  “Sorry,” Martin said sheepishly as he and Serika sat side-by-side at a table in the second floor of UCO’s spacious library. He had a Japanese language book and kanji flash cards in front of him. The smell of thousands of books was a pleasant one. The sun had long since set outside. “OK, let’s see. Uh… Boku wa eiga wo mitai imasu.”

  “Very good! I have to say, you’ve really improved over the past month. You’ve learned a lot about Japan and managed to retain it.”

  “It’s all thanks to you and your excellent tutelage,” Martin said. And his can-do attitude in pursuit of love certainly didn’t hurt.

  “Much appreciated,” Serika said. “OK, here’s another one. ‘That woman has blonde hair’.”

  He thought about it for a moment. “Ano onna no kami wa kinpatsu desu’.”

  She nodded. “Awesome. I’ve never seen anyone pick up a foreign language so quickly. You definitely have a talent for it.”

  He smiled at her. “Now you’re just flattering me.”

  “No, I mean it. It took me years to learn Japanese because I grew up around English-speaking people.”

  “Well, maybe I was Japanese in a previous life.”

  “Oh, stop it,” she teased.

  “No, I mean it. My name was Yamamoto and I was the world’s greatest samurai. I served my lord faithfully until he was ousted in a coup, and then I roamed the land as a masterless ronin.”

  She leaned in closer. “With your skills, you would have found a new master in no time.”

  “You’re too kind.”

  They continued the study session for another half hour. When they were about to conclude, Martin said, “Listen, I’ve really enjoyed being tutored by you. But I’d like to take you out on a real date.”

  She frowned. “You’re very nice, but I don’t know. I’m a Shintoist. I doubt we share the same religious beliefs and those can break a relationship. What do you believe in?”

  “To be honest, I don’t really believe in anything.”

  Sighing, she said, “That’s the problem. I need to be with someone who shares my religious beliefs.”

  He decided to point out the obvious. “There aren’t a whole lot of Shintoists in Oklahoma.”

  “I know,” she said. “But my parents decided to instill in me their Shintoist beliefs. And they stuck. It’s what I believe in. I’m sorry.” She turned to leave.

  But Martin, acting on pure impulse, yelled out, “I’ll convert.”

  She spun around to face him. “What?”

  “Shinto. I’ll convert to it. Shinto ni naritai.”

  Serika shook her head. “You must be out of your mind. You can’t just decide to believe in something.”


  “I just did.”

  “It doesn’t work that way and you know it.”

  “OK, fine. You’re right. I can’t just decide to believe in something. But this Shinto, it’s like, I don’t know, I feel it. It makes sense to me.”

  “You’re just saying that,” she said, rolling her eyes.

  “No, I mean it. I don’t know why, but I feel like I belong in it, like I was meant for it. Maybe it won’t be official. Maybe I just be an honorary Shintoist.”

  She put her face in her hands for a moment and then ran them through her hair. “You would go that far just to date me?”

  He nodded. “I would.”

  “But I’m nobody.”

  He wasn’t going stand for such nonsense. “You’re not nobody!” He was shushed by someone sitting at a nearby table. “Sorry,” he said before turning his attention back to Serika. “You are Serika Evans. You are the most amazing person I’ve ever known. Nobody else even comes close to you. I’m lucky just to breathe the same air as you.”

  She paced back and forth for a minute before returning to face him. “Are you sure about this?”

  “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything in my life. And yeah, that sounds cliché and cheesy, but it’s the honest-to-God truth. Whoops, I mean Kami-sama.”

  She then did something he wasn’t expecting: She laughed. “All right, gaijin. But you still have a lot to learn, and I’m going to teach you. We’ll see just how committed you are. Get ready for Shinto Boot Camp.”

  He gave her a mock salute. “Yessir, Sarge.”

  “OK, now you are being cheesy.”

  Now it was his turn to be unexpected. He didn’t know why he did it, but something about this moment felt right. And so, with that in mind, he nervously walked over and got a few inches from her face, staring into her eyes. She stared back, and in her eyes, he saw acceptance of what he intended to do.

  He kissed her. Not a peck on the cheek, but fully on the lips. He believed wholeheartedly in this action; she was the one for him. Of that, there could be no doubt.

  * * *

  “Good gravy.” This was his mother’s reaction when he called on the phone to give his parents the good news.