Shamisen notes fluttered around Obake like a band of aimless butterflies. He absorbed every one, feeling almost ethereal. The soothing melody was all he registered until golden light began hammering against his eyelids. 
   Stretching his limbs wide, he let out a satisfying yawn. “Forgot to close my blinds again.”
   “No, you didn’t.”
   The ethereal feeling abandoned him. He sat up, the pain in his neck apparent once more. Even the sand-scrapes along his face stung now. His head throbbed so hard he half expected his skull to crack. With eyelids heavier than sandbags, he could only peer through his lashes.
   Beyond those lashes, a woman with fiery red hair leaned against the wall. Large prayer beads hung around her neck, swaying near her bulbous belly. Lines and creases zigzagged across her face, yet none of them diminished its pleasantness. Peering out the window beside her, she continued strumming her shamisen. The tune shifted, suddenly bouncing off the wooden walls and tatami flooring of Obake’s room.
   “Nana?”
   The apricot-skinned woman, clad in a plum kimono, turned from the window with a gracious smile, her black eyes exuding kindness. “In the flesh, Froggy.”
   “Nana. We talked about this.”
   “We did. But you know your dear old grandmother’s hard of hearing.”
   “Yeah, right, Nana. What time is it anyway?”
   “Six-oh-five in the morning. Now come on. Up, up, up. I need to heal those wounds of yours. You look like you got mauled by a pigeon.”
   She propped her shamisen beneath the window and left the room. Obake’s body ached so badly he struggled to peel himself from the bed. As he stood, his legs made their disapproval known. 
   He nearly crawled to reach a half-finished fox sculpture on a lonesome desk. This eye looks a little off.
   Next to the sculpture lay a kunai dusted with splinters. He scraped it along the wooden fox, and a left eye—more fitting for an omnivore—began to take shape.
   “I’m waiting,” called Nana.
   “No. That’s okay. I’ll be fine.”
   “Nonsense, get your butt over here. I’ll add a few extra wounds myself if you don’t.”
   Obake hobbled to the doorway. Across the narrow hall sat a bathroom half the size of his already tiny room. Its walls were wooden too, but straw mats covered the floor instead of tatami. A wind chime hung above the toilet, giving the space an outdoorsy feel. In the corner, a sizeable barrel brimmed with warm water. It was just big enough for a single person. 
   “Hop in!” said Nana.
   He removed his blood-stained keikogi. In his periphery, his grandmother stood with her back to him, humming the same upbeat tune she had played earlier on the shamisen.
   “Um… can you… get out, please?”
   “I’m not looking. I used to change your diapers you know.”
   “Come on. I’m not a little boy anymore. I’m an adult now.”
   “Seventeen is hardly an adult, even eighteen for that matter. They should change the laws. I think it should be thirty. But what do I know?”
   On her way out, she lowered the drape over the bathroom entrance. Obake slipped into the warm bath. The moment the water touched his skin, he felt it begin to ease his aches and pains.
   “Ready yet?” asked Nana from the hallway. “I’m going to die of old age if I have to wait any longer.”
   “I’m ready,” he grumbled.
   She lifted the drape and waddled toward her grandson like a penguin in snow. 
   With both hands, he covered his groin. “The water feels great and all, but this will take forever. Are we still out of elixir?”
   “Patience is a virtue, Froggy.”
   A flicker of annoyance crossed his eyes. “You know I hate when you call me that.”
   “But it’s so perfect. When you were a tiny baby, you and your green hair bounced around the house like—”
   “A frog, I remember,” he said with a sigh.
   She chuckled as she reached into the sleeve of her kimono and drew out a wooden canister, its surface engraved with the face of a terrifying ghost. Its magenta liquid spilled into the bath. The water took on the magenta color with haste, and vapor rose from the barrel, disseminating throughout the bathroom.
   “When did you get more puapo?” Suspicion crept onto Obake’s face. “Wait a minute. You never actually ran out, huh?”
   “Nope. I hide it from you and your grandfather. You two always use it up. It’s not easy to make you know.”
   “But you poured most of it in here.”
   “That’s the trick. For minor injuries, all you have to do is…” She stared at Obake, inviting him to finish her sentence. “Well?”
   “Take a few sips,” he groaned.
   “And for more serious injuries?”
   “Drink half. If that’s not enough, drink the whole thing.”
   “Exactly! Glad to see you can pay attention when you want to.”
   She tucked the empty canister back into the depths of her sleeve. “Now here’s something you don’t know. When you combine the Puapo Elixir with a warm bath, it boosts your immune system. You heal twice as fast.”
   Obake’s entire demeanor shifted. His grandmother’s medicinal knowledge genuinely impressed him.
   “That’s some amazing shit right there.”
   “Amazing shit indeed.”
   “Why didn’t you ever tell me this before?”
   “You didn’t need to know. You’ve never been injured like this.”
   Obake lifted his gaze to the wind chime above.
   “Going to tell me what happened?”
   He watched the chime sway, its pipes tapping together in gentle rhythm. “That’s super nice. We should put more of them up around the house.”
   “Thought so. You teenagers and your secrets. Don’t think I didn’t notice some of my kitchen knives missing either.”
   “I have no clue what you’re talking about.”
   “If you say so. Whatever you’re doing, I just hope you’re being careful.”
   After waddling back into the hallway, she shot him a pointed look. He quickly returned his attention to the wind chime.
   “Don’t stay in there for more than thirty minutes or you’ll get dizzy. Take it easy and you should be good to go by Friday, just in time for your graduation.”
   “My graduation is next Friday.”
   “I knew that,” she said with embarrassment.
   “Are you and Papa still coming?”
   “Of course, I wouldn’t miss it. Even for a sexy young man half my age.”
   “Come on, Nana.”
   As she adopted a doe-eyed smile, Obake feigned a gag. From another room, a gritty voice yelled out.
   “Hey! Stop babying the boy, Bao-Ang. He doesn’t need us there.”
   Bao-Ang yelled back, “Oh, hush. We’re going.” Grinning, she shook her head. “Don’t listen to him, Froggy. I’ll have your breakfast waiting for you.” 
   She lowered the drape again, then left. A half hour slipped by like a shooting star; Obake grew so relaxed he nearly exceeded the time limit. Realizing his imminent mistake, he sprang from the bath and grabbed the robe Bao-Ang had left for him. 
   Feeling ten times better, he stared into the mirror mounted over the sink. Damn. This has got to be some sort of sorcery. It reflected a face full of fast-fading wounds. She’s a Kantasian. Yup. That’s the only explanation.
   The aroma of scrambled eggs, rice noodles, steamed buns, and vegetables hit Obake the moment he stepped into the kitchen. It nearly made him salivate; his body craved anything that might speed his recuperation. Bao-Ang sat beside an elder man, the two of them drinking from tall cups.
   “About time,” said the elder man.
   Obake smirked, then took a seat at the round table. The elder man was compact but fearsome, his face marked by old injuries. Only one eye still functioned; the other was crossed by a painful-looking scar that slithered up his forehead and down his cheek. The working eye, foggy and gray like a gloomy day, watched him without blinking. His hair resembled the fur of an old wolf. Yet he and Obake shared the same forest-green hair and caramel skin.
   “Could’ve put some clothes on,” said the elder man.
   Bao-Ang almost spit out her drink. By pinching her lips, she prevented turning the kitchen into a splash zone.
   “Yokai, stop. It’s too early for that,” she said with a rasp, then took another drink.
   “You’re just jealous. Not my fault you have that old, rickety ass body now. You wish you still looked this good,” said Obake with a mischievous grin.
    Laughter erupted like three volcanoes at once, apple juice splashing across the kitchen table. Delighted, Yokai gave his grandson a series of hearty back slaps.
   “You’re a funny guy, Green. I’m glad you’re okay. You looked like shit when you stumbled in this morning.”
   A shadow of disappointment moved across Obake’s face. “You saw that?” 
   In unison, Bao-Ang and Yokai nodded.
   “Do you two ever sleep?”
   “A Yokai Clan Ninja never sleeps,” said Yokai. “Speaking of which, you have about ten minutes before training begins.”
   “What? I still have to train?” He looked to his grandmother. “I got mauled by a pigeon, remember?”
   She smirked. “Nice try.”
   Yokai finished the last of his meal, then sprang to his feet. “I’ll be outside. You’ll owe me for every minute you’re late.”
   Obake’s eyes went wide.
   “Thanks for the breakfast, Bao. It was tasty.” Yokai kissed his wife on the forehead. “I’ll take care of lunch.” With that, he made his way to the front yard.
   Like a starving tiger, Obake ravaged his scrambled eggs and vegetables. He slurped down the last few rice noodles and shoved another steamed bun into his mouth. Cold apple juice in hand, he went in for a long pull.
   “Chug, chug, chug,” said Bao until the juice vanished. “Now hurry and put on your keikogi.” 
   “You’re not training with us today?”
   “I most certainly am. I have to finish cleaning up first.”
   In a rush, Obake got dressed and headed outside to a grassy field enclosed by a bamboo fence. Yokai stood against the passing winds, his bushy mustache holding on for dear life. A line of string trailed from his hands to a viper-shaped kite soaring forty feet above. It swayed and slithered through the air like a water snake on the prowl.
   “Like it?” asked Yokai. “It’s brand new.”
   For a brief moment, Obake studied the kite. “I don’t know. I think I like the cat one better.”
   “Me too.” Yokai drove the kite spool into the grass. “Oh, and you’re a minute late, Green. That’ll be twenty-five pull-ups.”
   “Seriously?”
   “Get to it.”
    Beside the small thatched-roof cottage rose a makeshift bamboo pull-up bar. Obake tore through the set in less than a minute.
   “All right, old timer. What else you got for me?”
   “Here, catch.”
   A pipe-like object spun toward Obake, twinkling in the sunlight as he reached up to snag it from the blue sky.
   “Mizuchi,” he said to himself.
   A naginata with a short black-and-gold handle rested in his palm, its blade hidden inside a matching scabbard. As if struck by lightning, Obake saw his father’s face. A heartbeat later, his mother’s drifted in after it. Their features were so vivid, so painfully clear, that his pulse spiked—until Yokai’s voice pulled him back down.
   “We’ll be continuing yesterday’s training. But remember. No soul energy. We’ll recommence with that tomorrow.” Yokai cherry-picked a few river rocks from a nearby pile. “Oh, and no shrapnel bombs either.”
   Obake gulped. “What do you—?”
   “It’s fine. But if any parents come to me saying their kid’s missing a leg, you’re in serious trouble.” He jiggled the rocks in each hand. “Now I know you worry about breaking it, but like I told you a million times, your father’s old weapon was forged from galvantium. It’s pretty much indestructible.”
   With his thumb, Obake caressed the naginata. 
   “You were able to strike down seven last time. Let’s see how well you fare today.”
   Obake pressed one of the two buttons beneath the naginata’s handguard, triggering the handle to extend over two feet.
   “Prepare yourself!” shouted Yokai.
   Dropping into his combat stance, Obake braced as Yokai hurled the first rock, then the second in rapid succession. With finesse, he rolled away from the first. It whizzed past and shattered against a nearby boulder. He flung aside the scabbard as the second rock flew toward him. Before it could smash into his arm, he sliced upward. The projectile split in two, each half spinning off in opposite directions.
   “Not bad,” said Yokai as he threw four more rocks.
   Four rocks became eight against the might of Mizuchi, but Yokai had plenty more to give. He scooped up six smaller rocks and slotted them between his fingers. With a sharp cross of his arms, he sent them flying. They swarmed Obake so quickly he nearly lost track of them.
   I don’t think I can get them all.
   Obake hit the second button below the naginata’s handguard. A concealed chain shot free, the blade snaking out from the handle. With a single swirling sweep, he cut through every projectile at once. Like raindrops, rock fragments pattered to the ground.
   “I did it! How many was that, Papa?”
   “Twelve. Have you been practicing?”
   He grinned from ear to ear. “Maybe.”
   “Don’t get too arrogant, Froggy.” Bao sat on the porch, cigarette smoke billowing from her jaws. “You’re not out of the woods yet.”
   “Damn it, Bao-Ang. Put that thing out. It’s—”
   “Going to be the death of me. I know, I know.”
   After grinding her cigarette into an ashtray, Bao made for the rock pile. She gathered a handful, then moved into position behind her grandson.
   Oh, great. Obake retracted Mizuchi’s blade. Here comes the tag team. 
   “Ready. Go!” screamed Bao.
   Yokai and Bao hurled two stones apiece, a flurry of blunt intentions. Obake rose above them in a single, fluid leap, the rocks whispering beneath him. The elder ninjas answered without breath or hesitation—each releasing one more rock as he hung in the air.
   They tricked me. Unable to dodge, Obake crouched in midair. I got this. The rocks swept over his head.
   Just before he could land, Yokai and Bao skipped their last rocks off the ground. One slammed into Obake’s chest, the other bit into his thigh.
   “Damn it!” He dropped into a disappointed slump. Yokai, however, lit up. “Great job, Green.”
   “You were almost untouched,” said Bao, dazzled. “Now, if this had been for real, you’d be in serious trouble right about now. Even so, you did a superb job.” 
   “Thanks!” said Obake with glee, handing Mizuchi over to her.
   “We’ve been training you for what, a decade now? We’ve trained many people in our time and none have shown as much promise as you,” said Yokai.
   “Yeah, right. You’re just saying that.”
   Bao gave a bright smile. “He’s not lying. You really are special. Keep it up and you’ll be a fine warrior someday.” 
   A young man with a light purple faux hawk and bronze skin approached from afar. 
   “What’s up!” he said, waving.
   “Is it that time already?” asked Obake, retrieving his pocket watch.
   Yokai peeked over his grandson’s shoulder. “Yup, 7:24 a.m. on the dot. You’ve got a little over half an hour to get there.”
   Obake rose as the young man stepped into the yard, his lean frame and pecan-colored eyes catching the light. The pair met with an elaborate handshake. 
   “What’s going on, Yumo? You ready for that arithmetic test or what?” asked Obake.
   “Um… I think I’m going to wing it to be honest.” 
   They snorted, then chuckled like a pair of roguish foxes.
   “What gives, kid? You’re late. How can I trust you to get my grandson to the academy on time? Twenty-five pull-ups now!” said Yokai.
   Yumo looked both frightened and puzzled.
   “You have to do them.” Obake gave his friend a very stern look. “He doesn’t like repeating himself.” 
   “They’re just pulling your leg,” said Bao, doing her best not to laugh.
   A fit of laughter seized both Obake and Yokai.
   Yumo eased out of his tense posture. “I can never tell when you’re serious or not, sir.”
   “You should’ve seen the look on your face,” said Yokai, unable to stop howling.
   At last, Bao joined in—the laughter was too contagious. “How’ve you been, Yumo? How’s your father doing?” she asked in between laughs.
   “Uh… he’s doing fine, ma’am.”
   “Um, hmm. I bet he is,” she said as if admiring a plate of desserts.
   Yokai leveled a death stare at her as Obake hid behind his hands. In an effort to mask his discomfort, Yumo grinned.
   “Have a good day at the academy, kids,” Yokai said, cutting through the awkwardness.
   “Oh, and no ditching,” said Bao.
   The two friends avoided her gaze.
   Obake retreated toward the cottage. “Uh… let me grab my bag and we’ll head out.” He ignored her suspicious eye along the way. Moments later, he re-emerged, raring to go. “Bye. See you later.”