Shamisen notes fluttered around like a band of aimless butterflies. Obake absorbed every one of them and felt ethereal. The soothing melody was all he processed until golden light hammered against his eyelids.

He discharged a satisfying yawn while stretching each limb far and wide. “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 on his face stung. His head pulsated so much he half expected his brain to crash through his skull. With eyelids heavier than sandbags, he had to make do with seeing through his eyelashes.

Past them, a woman with fiery red hair leaned against a wall. Large prayer beads hung from around her neck, dangling near her bulbous belly. Many lines and creases zigzagged across her face, but failed to detract from its pleasantness. While peering out the window beside her, she continued strumming her shamisen. The tune altered, deciding to bounce 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?”

“6:05 in the morning. Now come on. Up, up, up. I have to heal those wounds of yours. You look like you got mauled by a pigeon.”

Nana propped her shamisen under the window and left the room. Obake’s body ached to the point he struggled to peel himself from his bed. As he stood, his legs didn’t hesitate to inform him of their disapproval.

He almost crawled to reach a half-finished fox sculpture on a lonesome desk. This eye looks a little off.

A knife covered in splinters laid next to the sculpture. It scraped away at the wooden fox, a left eye more befitting of the omnivorous animal started to form.

“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 drug his heels to the doorway. Right next door was a bathroom half the size of his already tiny room. It had wooden walls as well, but the floors possessed straw mats instead of tatami. A wind chime hanging above the toilet gave the room an outdoorsy vibe. In the corner, a sizeable barrel filled to the brim with warm water awaited. It was just big enough to accommodate a single person, Obake limped to it.

“Hop in!” said Nana.

Obake removed his bloodstained keikogi before catching his grandmother in his periphery. Her back was to him. She hummed the same tune she performed 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 rolled down the cloth drape above the bathroom entrance. Obake disrobed and entered the pleasant bath. As soon as his body contacted the liquid, he felt it working to alleviate his aches and pains.

“Ready yet?” asked Nana. “I’m going to die of old age if I have to wait any longer.”

“I’m ready,” grumbled Obake.

She curled up the drape and waddled toward her grandson like a penguin in snow. With both hands, Obake 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.”

Obake rolled his eyes in annoyance. “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,” said Obake with a sigh.

Nana chuckled as she reached into the sleeve of her kimono to fetch a wooden canister, engraved upon it, the face of a terrifying ghost. Its liquid magenta contents spilled into the bath. The bath water immolated the magenta liquid with haste. Vapor then rose from the barrel and disseminated 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 all 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.”

Nana 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 accelerates your immune system. You heal twice as fast!”

Obake’s entire demeanor altered. His grandmother’s medicinal knowledge 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 averted his eyes to the wind chime above.

“Going to tell me what happened?”

He continued scrutinizing the chime as its pipes clapped together. “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 knives missing either.”

“I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“If you say so. Whatever you’re doing, I hope you’re being careful.”

Nana waddled to the start of the hallway then fired another gaze at Obake. He glanced back at 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.”

Obake feigned a gag while his grandmother adopted a doe eyed smile. From another room, a gritty voice yelled out.

“Hey! Stop babying the boy, Bao-Ang. He doesn’t need us there.”

“Oh, hush. We’re going,” Bao yelled back. “Don’t listen to him. I’ll have your breakfast waiting for you.”

She waddled out, closing the dingy drape behind her. A half hour went by like a shooting star; Obake was so relaxed he came close to exceeding the time limit. He sprang from the bath upon noticing his imminent mistake and grabbed the robe Bao left for him.

Feeling ten times better, Obake peered at the mirror over the sink, it showed fading wounds. Damn. This has got to be some sort of sorcery. She’s a Kantasian. Yup, that’s the only explanation.

The aroma of scrambled eggs, rice noodles, steamed buns and vegetables nestled Obake’s nostrils the second he entered the kitchen. It almost made him salivate; his body craved anything capable of aiding in his recuperation. Bao sat next to an elder man and they both drank from tall cups.

“About time,” said the elder man.

Obake smirked and took a seat at the round table. The elder man was compact, but fearsome. Remnants of several injuries lingered on his face and only one of his eyes still functioned. The left eye harbored a painful-looking scar that slithered up his forehead and down his cheek. Similar to a gloomy day, the functional eye was foggy and gray. His hair resembled the fur of an old wolf. However, he and Obake shared the same forest green hair and caramel pigment.

The elder man regarded Obake. “Could’ve put some clothes on.”

Having taken a sip from her cup, Bao almost spit. By pinching her lips, she prevented turning the kitchen into a splash zone.

“Yokai, stop. It’s too early for that,” said Bao with a rasp before taking another drink.

“You’re just jealous. Not my fault you have that old, rickety ass body now. You wish you could look this good again,” said Obake with a mischievous grin.

 Laughter erupted like three volcanoes going off at once. This time apple juice splashed across the kitchen table. In cheerful spirit, Yokai slapped his grandson on the back multiple times.

“You’re a funny guy, Green. I’m glad you’re okay. You looked like shit when you stumbled in this morning.”

A look of disappointment infiltrated Obake’s facial features. “You saw that?”

Bao and Yokai nodded together in unison.

“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?” Obake looked to his grandmother. “I got mauled by a pigeon, remember?”

Bao smirked. “Nice try.”

Yokai consumed what remained on his plate, then shot up. “I’ll be outside. You’ll owe me for every minute you’re late.”

Obake’s eyes widened.

Yokai kissed Bao on the forehead. “Thanks for the breakfast, dear. It was tasty. I’ll take care of lunch.” He then made his way to the front yard.

Obake ravaged his scrambled eggs and vegetables. He then slurped down a few straggling rice noodles and shoveled another steamed bun into his mouth. Cold apple juice washed it all down.

“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’ve got to finish cleaning up first.”

In a rush, Obake got dressed and headed outside to a grassy field enclosed by a short bamboo fence. Yokai stood against the passing winds, his bushy mustache holding on for dear life. String trailed from his hands over to the kite of a viper some forty feet high. It swayed and slithered like a water snake on the prowl.

“Like it?” asked Yokai. “It’s brand new.”

For a brief moment, Obake scrutinized the kite. “I don’t know. I think I like the cat one better.”

“Me too,” Yokai stabbed 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.”

 Next to the small cottage stood a makeshift bamboo pull-up bar. It took Obake less than a minute to complete the task.

“All right, old timer. What else you got for me?”

“Here, catch.”

A pipe-like object spun at Obake. It twinkled 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 sat in his palm, blade concealed by a matching scabbard. As if struck by lightning, Obake’s mind found his father’s face. Not long after, his mother’s face drifted by, too. Both of his parent’s features were so vivid, so painful. His heart rate skyrocketed until Yokai’s words brought it 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.”

Tingles spiraled Obake’s spine as Yokai 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 weapon as Yokai continued.

“You were able to strike down seven last time. Let’s see how well you fare today.”

Obake punched one of two buttons located under the naginata’s handguard. The handle extended over two feet.

“Prepare yourself!” Yokai shouted.

Obake called forth his combat stance as Yokai threw the first rock, then the second in rapid succession. With finesse, Obake rolled away from the first. It whizzed past him and crashed into a nearby boulder. He tossed away the scabbard as the second rock sailed for him. Before it smashed into his arm, he sliced upward. The projectile split in two, sending both pieces in opposite directions.

“Not bad,” said Yokai as he hurled four additional rocks.

Each of which succumbed to four additional slices. Four rocks became eight against the might of Mizuchi.

Yokai had plenty more where that came from. He took six smaller rocks, placing them between his fingers. After a quick cross of the arms, he let them fly. Rocks surrounded Obake so fast that he almost lost track of them.

I don’t think I can get them all.

Obake punched the second button under the naginata’s handguard. The blade snaked its way from the handle by an attached chain. With a swirling motion, every projectile got sliced in one fell swoop. Pieces of rock fell like raindrops.

“I did it! How many was that, Papa?”

“Twelve. Have you been practicing?”

Obake grinned from ear to ear. “Maybe.”

“Don’t get too arrogant, Froggy. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

Bao sat on the porch. Cigarette smoke billowing from her jaws.

“Dammit, Bao-Ang. Put that thing out. It’s—”

“Going to be the death of me, I know. I know.”

After stabbing her cigarette in a nearby ashtray, Bao headed to the rock pile. She scooped a handful, then positioned behind her grandson.

Obake retracted Mizuchi. Great, here comes the tag team.

“Ready. Go!” yelled Bao.

Yokai and Bao both launched two rocks a piece. Obake jumped up, evading them all. Without hesitation the elder ninjas threw one more rock each.

They tricked me. Unable to dodge, Obake crouched in midair. I got this. The rocks soared over his head.

Yokai and Bao skipped their last rocks off the ground before Obake could land. One rock struck Obake’s chest while the other bit into his thigh.

“Damn it!” In disappointment, Obake plopped down. However, Yokai became ecstatic. “Great job, Green.”

“You were almost untouched,” said Bao, dazzled.

They sat on either side of Obake before Bao spoke again.

“Now, if this had been for real, you’d be in serious trouble right about now, but superb job.”

“Thanks!” said Obake with glee, handing Mizuchi over to Bao.

“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 came walking over from a distance.

“What’s up,” he said, waving.

“Is it that time already?” asked Obake, retrieving his pocket watch.

Yokai glanced over his grandson’s shoulder. “Yup, 7:24 a.m. on the dot. You got little more than a half an hour to get there.”

Obake ascended to his feet as the young man entered the yard, bringing his skinny build and pecan-colored eyes with him. An elaborate handshake ensued between the young men.

“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 both snorted then chuckled like hyenas.

“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 frightened and puzzled at the same time.

Obake gave his friend a stern look. “You have to do them. He doesn’t like repeating himself.”

“They’re just pulling your leg,” said Bao, who was doing her best not to laugh.

Fits of laughter took hold of Obake and Yokai.

Yumo relaxed his tense posture. “I can never tell when you’re serious or not, sir.”

Yokai couldn’t stop howling. “You should’ve seen the look on your face.”

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 shot Bao a death stare as Obake hid his face behind his hands. Yumo wore a grin that screamed of discomfort.

“Have a good day at the academy, kids,” said Yokai, breaking the awkwardness.

“Oh, and no ditching,” said Bao.

The pair of friends avoided eye contact with her.

Obake made way for the cottage. “Uh… let me grab my bag and we’ll head out.” He pretended not to notice Bao’s suspicious eye along the way. He returned seconds later, raring to go. “Bye. See you later.”