Brave Story (35 page)

“I want to go too. I want to go to the Tower of Destiny,” Wataru said, standing up, reaching for Mitsuru’s hands. “Please, take me with you.”

“That I cannot do,” Mitsuru said, stepping back. “Each Traveler must find the path to the Tower of Destiny on his own. If you do not reach it by your own volition, the Goddess will not see you. You cannot rely on anyone else for this journey.”

“But that’s—that’s too much. We’re just kids!”

“Kids trying to change fate. Did you think it would be easy?”

For a moment, that familiar disdainful sneer returned. The old Mitsuru. Wataru had almost forgotten he existed.

“I have to go,” Mitsuru said, taking another step backward. “Once you’ve made up your mind, go to the Porta Nectere. If you’re scared to go, that’s fine. Just wait until dawn, and the gates will disappear, never to appear for you again.”

Then it seemed to Wataru that Mitsuru’s outline suddenly blurred. Silver light spread from some unknown source and enveloped the boy standing before him.

“Of course, if you don’t go, your fate will never change. It might even get worse.”

Think about it
—Mitsuru’s voice said. But Mitsuru was already gone.

For a while, Wataru sat on his knees, staring at the space where the other boy had been. Then something fell with a clink on the floor.

The pendant—the Traveler’s Mark. The silver plate, only about as large as his thumbnail, was shining. Wataru’s fingers had relaxed, dropping it to the floor.

As he stared, the plate gave off a sudden rainbow-colored light. It was so bright that Wataru had to shield his eyes.

And then from somewhere, a deep voice spoke.

“You have been chosen. Walk the true path.”

Wataru picked up the pendant and stood.

The gas stove was turned on full. Wataru turned it off and opened the door to the veranda. It was a hot, soupy night outside. The air hung like a mantle over the town. Yet the sweat on Wataru’s forehead wasn’t caused by the heat.

He put the pendant around his neck, and headed toward his mother’s bedroom. When he got to her closed door, he stopped.

I’m leaving, Mom, but I’ll be back. Wait for me.

I’m going to change my fate. I’m going to make it so Dad doesn’t do what he did, so you don’t have to hear those words, so that Rikako Tanaka woman never comes into our lives.

I’m going so our family can live in peace, the three of us.

I’m going to change my fate.
Then he thought,
No, I’m just going to take this tangled mess and set it straight. The way it was supposed to be.

Outside, Wataru walked beneath the summer night sky, taking a direct path toward the Daimatsu building. His sneakers kicked lightly at the asphalt. When he ran, he could feel the pendant swaying at his neck.

The Daimatsu building came into view. Draped in blue tarps, its silhouette seemed somehow more mysterious than it had ever been before—a giant street sign, its meaning known by only a select few, pointing the way to another world.

He went through the tarps in the usual place, crawling under until he was inside.

It was bright. Tiny particles of light flitted about, like countless fireflies. The particles stuck to Wataru’s body, and when he waved his arms, and stomped his feet, they danced in the air around him.

At the top of the staircase to nowhere, he saw it—the gate. White light ran in bands around its ancient form. Rays spilled out into the stairwell, making the steel rail almost too bright to look at.

Wataru climbed the staircase. One step at a time, each foot placed with utmost care, not once taking his eyes from the gate.

As he walked, his hands moved of their own accord, gripping the pendant at his neck.

Wataru stood before the gate, and the white light grew stronger. A band of rainbow-colored light circled counterclockwise along the edge of the door’s frame. The pendant in Wataru’s hand shimmered, as if in reply.

Slowly, the gates opened. The light pressed upon him. Wataru squinted, lifted his chin, and spread his arms wide, bathed in the light.

And then, he stepped through the gate.

Chapter 1
The Village of the Watchers

Wataru walked through brilliant light for an indeterminate time.
Then, just like that, the light faded and he found himself in a deep forest. A cool breeze brushed across his cheek.

The forest grew thick with massive trees that seemed tall enough to touch the sky. He looked up until his neck became stiff, finally spotting a patch of blue sky peeking through the canopy far above.

There, in the middle of that sky, hung a golden sun.

Fwee! Fwoo!

Wataru heard something—like somebody blowing a whistle. He looked around, and then as quickly as he could, he spun on his heel. There was nobody in sight.

Fwee! Fwoo! Fulululu!

He heard the sound again, and then a bird with brilliant orange feathers came flying out of the bushes directly in front of him.
It must’ve been that bird singing.

Wataru turned his attention back to the forest. He’d never seen woods so deep and vast. The thick-growing leaves and branches intertwined above his head, making everything pleasantly cool. Oddly enough, it wasn’t as dark under the boughs as he would’ve expected.
Probably because the sun is so high in the sky,
he thought.
It must be nearly noon.

The ground beneath his feet was soft, and comfortable to walk on.
Humus, that’s what it’s called
.
Dad taught me on a camping trip when I was in first grade, was it?

The ground was covered with rich green moss, and low, leafy plants with pretty white flowers. Grass was growing everywhere—soft and thick, it felt like velvet to the touch. He looked closer and saw traces of a path worn by the passing of many feet. It wound off through the woods, heading into the distance.

Wataru took a deep breath and began to walk down the path. He heard another birdsong, like a whistle, off somewhere in the woods. Wataru whistled, trying to mimic it, then waited. The bird replied, the end of its song lifting as though in question.

Fwee, fwoo, fololo?

Wataru mimicked the call again. For a moment, there was silence. Then the bird answered.
Fwee-fee, fwolololo fwee! Fwee fwololo fwee fwee fwoolulu!

He shook his head and laughed. “Okay, okay. You win. There’s no way I can do that.”

The bird gave a satisfied-sounding chirp.

Walking further, he came to a place where the path zigzagged through the undergrowth. There was a clearing ahead.

In the open space sat a small hut, with a red roof and stumpy chimney. Behind it was another, and another.
A village.

Wataru walked up to the nearest structure. He now counted five houses standing in the forest clearing. They looked practically identical, with one exception: smoke was rising from the chimney of the nearest hut. Wataru climbed three steps of cut logs to stand before a small log door.

“Hello?”

There was no reply. White smoke drifted lazily from the chimney. A pleasant smell of burning wood hung about the house. Wataru sniffed at the air.

“Is nobody home?”

Suddenly the door swung out with a bang. Wataru was so surprised he lost his balance, slipping on a step and falling on his rear in the grass.

An old man wearing a long robe stood holding open the door. “Foolish question, boy!” he snapped.

Without thinking, Wataru pointed at the old man. “You!”
The wizard from the Porta Nectere!
The color of his robes was different, but there was no mistaking that voice and wizened face.

But his eyes looked menacing, and he seemed much grumpier than he had been when Wataru met him before. He glared at Wataru, and began to frown. “Were nobody home, how could they answer? Tell me that! Wasted words, boy.”

“Um…” said Wataru, still squatting on the grass.

“More waste!” the old man shouted to the heavens. Wataru feared that the spray of spit flying from the old man’s mouth would fall on him. “If you mean yes, say yes. If you mean no, say no. What kind of a word is ‘um,’ anyway? And why would you say it, but to follow with a proper answer directly afterward? More waste!”

“Um, but I…” Wataru began, stopping short when he saw the old man’s face go red. He began clawing at his breast with wrinkled hands, spitting furiously.

“No, no, no! A criminal waste of words! Stay where you are, miscreant, and I shall mete out proper punishment!”

Robes swirling, the old man dashed back into the hut. As Wataru stared, dumbfounded, he returned, swinging a heavy-looking cane with both hands. “Prepare yourself!”

Wataru shrieked, shot to his feet, and began to run.

“Wait! No running!” Protesting, the old wizard gave chase. Wataru ran in a circle around the standing huts, like he was playing a schoolyard game of tag. The old man seemed incredibly lively for his age, and his anger never seemed to lessen, nor did he run out of breath. Wataru was afraid he might actually be caught. Panicked, he ran to the edge of the clearing, up against the forest and stopped. There was nowhere else for him to go. He was cornered.

He glanced to the side to see the back door of the rearmost hut directly to his right. Dashing past the fuming wizard, he ran for the door. The small log door opened smoothly inward, and Wataru tumbled inside the hut.

He saw a small chair, a table, and a thin blanket on a hard-looking bed. No sooner had he taken stock of his surroundings than the door behind him swung open again.

“I said no running!” screamed the wizard, charging in. Panting, Wataru flew across the hut and out the front door.

What am I supposed to do? How did I get into this mess?

Mitsuru had told him to go to the Watcher first. If this grouchy wizard wasn’t the Watcher, Wataru couldn’t think of who it might be. He
was
the one who he had first seen standing by the Porta Nectere, after all.
Why is he
chasing me?
It didn’t make any sense.

Wataru thought as he ran, looking for a hiding place, when suddenly he realized he was no longer being chased.
Huh?
Maybe his pursuer had tired at last.

Wataru turned around and looked at the village. Something was slightly different about it, but he couldn’t quite pin down what it was. It was like one of those find-the-mistake puzzles.

The chimney. The white smoke coming from the chimney.

When he first arrived at the village, smoke had been rising from the first hut. Now the smoke was rising from the furthest one—the one he’d just run through.

It occurred to him that, though the wizard had chased him into that particular house, he hadn’t seen him come out.

Walking cautiously across the soft grass, Wataru approached the front door of the farthest hut. He put his ear to the wood. Nothing.

Wait…is that someone humming?

“Um…excuse me, is anybody home?”

The humming stopped. Soft footfalls approached the door.

The door opened, and the wizard from before stuck out his head. He didn’t seem angry at all. “Well now,” he said, spreading his arms. “Perhaps you might be the new visitor Mitsuru has told me about?” His voice was kind and gentle. “What’s going on here?”

“Um, Mister…” Wataru began. “You’re not mad at me anymore?”

The old man opened his eyes wide. “Me, mad? At you?” But he lowered his arms and peered at the space between his hands, as though he were looking for something. “Why would I be angry with you?”

“Why—but just now—you sure you aren’t angry?” Wataru pointed at the first hut. “When I met you over there, you were grumpy from the first minute. You said I was wasting words, and you were going to hit me with your cane!”

The wizard inserted a long slender finger into one nostril. “Me? I did that?”

He’s gone senile.

“You did,” Wataru said, rather forcefully. He feared he was being toyed with.