Yumo and Obake traversed the mountainous terrain. The bird’s-eye view of the lands below was nothing short of remarkable.
   Before long, they came upon two trails. One led down the mountain; the other was lined with trees doing their best impersonation of a corridor. They chose the latter, where a handful of other students walked up ahead.
   With a hint of wonder in his eyes, Obake gazed around. I can’t stand the academy, but at least I get to enjoy the Tree Corridor on the way.
   He hadn’t thought about Meilana all morning, but with each step her memory clawed its way back to the surface. He pictured the countless times they’d walked this very corridor together—hands intertwined, giggling like small children. He remembered taking her to Taulon Falls, the kisses they shared, all the times they almost—
   “Why’re you so quiet?” asked Yumo.
   Meilana faded back into Obake’s subconscious. “Sorry. I was just thinking about something.”
   A smirk dawned on Yumo’s face. “Thinking about Tezza, huh?”
   “Why would I?”
   “Come on. You know she wants it. You don’t see her giving you the googly eyes in class?”
   “I try not to.”
   “What? She’s so sexy. If you don’t jump on that I will.”
   Obake gave a light shrug. “Be my guest. I’m not interested.”
   As if a foul odor had hit him, Yumo scrunched his face. “You must be gay.”
   A laugh burst out of Obake. “No, dumbass. I’ve got my eye on someone else.”
   “Oh. Let me guess. Is it Katshi? No, Naivu?” Yumo bit his bottom lip. “I love that nice ass she’s got.”
   “She does have a nice ass. But no, not her.”
   Offended, Yumo threw his arms up. “So, you’re not going to tell me?”
   “Nope. I’m keeping this one to myself.”
   “Are you serious right now?”
   “Sorry.”
   “That’s messed up. It’s not like I’m going to tell anybody.”
   “Yeah, right. Remember in second year when I told you I liked Morrgo? You went right up to her—”
   “All right, all right. But in my defense, that was when we were kids.”
   “They called me Love Doctor for months.”
   Yumo laughed so hard all the nearby critters scattered. “Oh yeah, I forgot all about that. Good times.”
   Halfway through the Tree Corridor, they came upon five brass turtle statues—three in a row on one side, two on the other—each with a spiked shell and a wangjin hat.
   “Are they ever going to replace that one?” asked Yumo, pointing to the side with only two statues and an empty pedestal between them.
   “The Zoza Statue? Doubt it. If they wanted to replace it, they would’ve done so years ago.”
   “Kind of creeps me out. What if it came to life and walked away?”
   “I bet it did. It’s been hiding in your attic all these years, waiting for the best time to devour you.”
   “You read way too much Zhai Foong.”
   Obake gave a cheerful laugh.
   “Did you read the latest issue yet?” Yumo continued.
   “Not yet. I’m so far behind. I’m still on the ‘Life after Death’ saga.”
   “Catch up already. I mean… that’s my favorite part of the story, but that came out like a year ago.”
   “You know some people say it’s true, right?”
   “Yeah. That would be awesome. But I don’t know. Dying, traveling to another realm, fighting a giant dragon, coming back to life… too good to be true.”
   “I don’t know. A lot of people can wield their soul energy. That alone is pretty crazy if you think about it.”
   “Hmm. You’ve got a point.”
   Before they knew it, they had finished traversing the mile-long Tree Corridor. As they stepped out, their academy revealed itself in the valley below—a pagoda-style castle watching from afar. Its cerulean walls, imperial-red rooftops, and gold accents gave it an almost surreal, picturesque glow.
   “Want to race down the Serpentine Trail?” asked Yumo, eyeing the winding path into the valley.
   Obake smirked. “I’d rather not have to take you to the hospital.”
   “Whatever.” Yumo chuckled. “So, you’re still going to help me out later, right?” 
   “Help you with what?” Obake’s face drooped in annoyance. “You’re still trying to go back to the Yokai Ruins?”
   “Yup. I need that money.”
   In disbelief, Obake shook his head. “You actually think you’re going to get a Stinger?”
   “I don’t think so. I know so. My dad said he’ll get me one for graduation.”
   “Looks like you’re screwed then.” Obake gave him a playful shove. “You know your goofy ass didn’t get enough points.”
   “You wish. You’re just mad I’m about to be riding while you’re walking.”
   “Yeah right. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
   “Look. I heard him talking to the neighbor. He said he’s going to get it for me tonight.”
   Yumo grew so thrilled that Obake began to believe him. 
   “Why do you need the money then?”
   “I can’t leave it all basic. You know I have to spice it up. I want the all-purpose tires, the custom seat and the enhanced engine. The ladies are going to be all over me when they see it.”
   “I got weird vibes the last time we went there. Something’s off about that place.”
   “I’m not planning to stick around. We’ll grab the money and get out of there right away.”
   “How do you even know it’s still there? Bandits probably swiped it by now.”
   “Bandits don’t loot there anymore. They already got everything worth taking a long time ago.”
   Obake groaned in frustration. “Why did you have to drop it anyway?”
   “Not like I did it on purpose.”
   “You know we might run into whatever made that sound last time, right?”
   Yumo shuddered. “I hope not. That was too scary. But believe it or not, I thought about that.” 
   A well-crafted dagger with a wavy blade emerged from Yumo’s pocket. With a grin, he handed it over.
   “It’s gorgeous.” Obake unsheathed it, admiration written across his face. “We definitely can’t let Batta see this.”
   “Of course not. He’d flip!”
   Obake gave the dagger back. 
   “If something jumps out on us…” Yumo sliced at the air. “We’ll take care of it.”
   “How am I going to make it to Genopai someday if I’m busy cleaning up after you?”
   “Don’t worry. Your dream of becoming a ‘ninja for hire’ will come true. You should have more faith in yourself.”
   “They’re called bounty hunters. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
   “Yeah, yeah. Are you down or what?”
   Obake paused, staring at his friend with suspicion. “Are you feeling okay? It’s not like you to go charging into danger like this.”
   “You know what they say. Money talks. Plus, I’ll have you with me.”
   “All right, fuck it.”
   Yumo thrust his fist into the air. “Yes! Hey, you never know. Maybe this time you’ll find what you were looking for.”
   “Doubt it. Like you said. The place has been completely ransacked.”
   “I still can’t believe your grandparents won’t tell you what really happened.”
   “Me either. They’re hiding something. Even Sensei Kinichi won’t tell me.”
   Sadness swept through the moment like an unexpected storm.
   “They supposedly died when the so-called ‘ginyai’ showed up. Monsters from another realm. Yeah, right.” Obake scoffed. “Maybe they’re the ones reading too much Zhai Foong.”
   “Think it could’ve been the brekkas?” asked Yumo.
   “Come on. You know I don’t like that word.”
   “My bad. Samurai. Better?”
   Obake cast a sideways glance his way.
   “So? Could it have been them or not?”
   “No way. A full-blown war would’ve broken out.”
   Yumo placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “Maybe it’s too hard for them to admit that it was just a random disaster.”
   “Still. If they wanted me to believe them, then why not be more convincing? More details would help. They’re so vague and act weird whenever I bring it up.” Obake sucked his teeth. “What if it did happen, though? Did my parents run like cowards or fight like warriors?”
   “I hate to say it, but a freak accident probably caused that fire. It’s sad, but even great ninjas like your father don’t always go out like heroes. I’m sorry.”
   All Obake could muster in response was a solemn nod. They pressed on, soon reaching the valley. The academy gates remained shut, and nearly two hundred children clustered outside—ages ten to seventeen, a scatter of colors, shapes, and sizes.
   “I still can’t believe all of you hike here every day,” said Obake.
   Yumo crossed his eyes and pursed his lips. ‘Have to get your education somewhere.’
   A low, rolling laugh rose from Obake’s belly. “Your dad doesn’t talk like that.”
   “Yes, he does. To be fair though, my town doesn’t have an academy anymore. It got shut down before we were born. Some drunkard ran it. Genopai has one, but that’s like three hours away by automobile.”
   “Damn. I’m lucky I live up here then. Do you think it’s worth it though?”
   “Well, supposedly this academy turns out the most successful students. Guess we’ll see how true that is in about a week or so.”
   They drifted into the thick of the crowd. The academy’s three levels towered above, making everyone below seem infinitesimal. Two falcon statues of pure gold stood on opposite corners of the uppermost roof, gleaming brilliantly under the blanketing sun.
   A stout, disgruntled-looking woman emerged behind the gates. Her features fused feminine contours with a masculine severity, a face shaped by two opposing currents. Sparse black hairs bristled along her chin and upper lip, and the hair on her scalp sprouted in uneven patches. She moved with a noticeable limp, though she tried to mask it with stiff determination. Unable to help themselves, some children giggled at the sight of her. 
   As she opened the gates, a loud gong signaled the imminent start of classes. The adolescent horde surged inside like a colony of ants forcing themselves through a single tunnel. Obake and Yumo waited for the rush to thin, and they weren’t the only ones. Amid the sea of bobbing heads, two remained still: an ivory-skinned boy with slicked-back hair and hooped earrings, and a stocky, coconut-skinned boy whose hair rose in jagged peaks. 
   Obake nudged Yumo in the ribs. “Look!”
   “Ow. What’s your problem?”
   “Look, stupid.” He gestured at the boys with his forehead. “It’s the assholes.”
   Yumo glanced over at them. They were busy firing off harsh commentary at any student unlucky enough to fall into their line of sight. Even the faculty wasn’t safe from their savage opinions.
   “There goes the groundskeeper again. Looking terrible as ever. She could use a new wardrobe if you ask me,” said the slick-haired boy. He couldn’t pry his eyes from the stout woman at the gates.
   The stocky boy nodded with a smirk. “She could use a better haircut too.” 
   “They’re pathetic,” said Yumo, carrying the same revulsion one might have for maggot-infested food.
   Obake nodded. “That’s an understatement. Can’t they just fall off the side of the mountain or something?”
   As the crude duo glanced around, their eyes landed on Obake and Yumo.
   “Take a look, Jevoss.” The slick-haired boy smacked his cohort’s arm and pointed. “If it isn’t our best buddies.”
   “Here we go again,” sighed Yumo.
   “You guys still haven’t found anything better to do with your time?” asked Obake, with a strong trace of loathing.
   The slick-haired boy swaggered over to Obake. “What could be better than ruining your day, Shrub Head?”
   He was thin and lanky, as if he considered eating too much of a hassle.
   “I’d rather look like a plant than a worm,” snapped Obake.
   Yumo roared with laughter.
   Jevoss approached as well. “Bald boy here thinks something’s funny, Eshra. Can you believe that?”
   “What do you think we should do about it?” asked the slick-haired boy.
   Stiffening his chest, Jevoss took several aggressive steps toward Yumo. “He won’t be laughing very much with a black eye.”
   Obake intervened. “Back up!”
   “Or what?” Eshra stiffened his chest too. “Going to use your little defiler powers on us?”
   “You’re just mad because you’re a feeble. I bet you wish you could use your soul energy,” said Yumo.
   Clenching their fists, Eshra and Jevoss seethed with offense. 
   “I doubt you guys want a repeat of last time,” said Obake with an air of cockiness.
   Eshra grinned, detestable words on the tip of his tongue. “Luck. That’s all it was. This time I’ll send you home so fucked up your mom won’t even recognize you. Oh, wait… you don’t have one of those.”
   Red smeared across Obake’s vision like a murder scene, a tsunami of every negative emotion crashing through him at once. Images of Jevoss and Eshra—bloodied, broken, sprawled in the dirt—flashed in his mind. He desperately wanted those visions to become reality. He thought about the samurai he’d been forced to kill the night before, how confused it had made him feel. Killing Eshra and Jevoss would feel different—somehow, he knew it. After all, this was personal.
   Ugly with glee, Eshra and Jevoss beamed at each other.
   Obake lunged, snarling like a ravenous beast, but Yumo held him back. 
   “I’ll kill both of you bitches!” He thrashed at Eshra and Jevoss. “Come here! Come here!”
   While Yumo struggled to keep Obake back, Eshra and Jevoss taunted him. 
   “Calm down. Stop!” screamed Yumo.
   Obake didn’t let up. “I’ll slit your throats, cocksuckers!” 
   “What’s going on over there?” said the stout, patchy-haired woman as she headed their way.
   Jevoss and Eshra tried to make a quiet exit.
   “You two, wait right there,” said the woman, pausing to examine the scene. “Everything all right over here?”
   It took an immense amount of willpower, but Obake regained control of himself. “Yeah,” he said, catching his breath.
   “Yup. Everything’s fine, Miss Jiaou. All good here.”
   Yumo sounded much more convincing, but not convincing enough.
   “If I see any more funny business, all four of you will be taken directly to the Supreme Sensei. Do I make myself clear?”
   “Crystal,” said Yumo as Obake nodded along.
   Eshra and Jevoss fought back the urge to laugh. 
   Miss Jiaou scowled at them. “Get to class. Now!”
   Jevoss and Eshra departed. Only once they were a suitable distance away did she grant Obake and Yumo permission to proceed as well. As they made their way through the gates, she watched them, her square jaw and thorny upper lip more apparent than ever.
   I don’t think I’ve ever been this close to her before.
   “Now listen to me, boys. My mother always told me, ‘Never take responsibility for other people’s trash.’ You’d do well to remember that.”
   After her parting words, Miss Jiaou vanished amidst the colorful flowers of the garden that started at the gates and spread to surround the academy.
   Other people’s trash? What does that mean?
   Obake and Yumo entered the foyer; it was empty aside from a few stragglers. Most of the other children had already found their classes.
   “We’re going to be late,” said Yumo as he and Obake made a run for it.
   The academy’s interior was a beautiful shade of brown, so vibrant it bordered on golden. Light fixtures hung from the walls, each one matching the falcon statues perched on the roof. A decorative staircase split the foyer down the middle, and the walls on either side held three doors apiece, each marked with a class name. They found the one labeled Art of Arithmetic and scraped inside just before the late gong.
   A petite woman stood at the front of the class with a wicker bin full of scrolls. “Aren’t we cutting it a bit close?”
   “Sorry, Sensei Gwell,” murmured Obake.
   Her brown hair fell so long it nearly tickled the floor.  The bifocals she wore were hideous, yet the bronze face behind them was striking enough to make half the boys fawn over her.
   “Have a seat, gentlemen,” she said.
   With a voice so calm, it was obvious she considered yelling unbecoming. Her parka flapped and fluttered as she paced before a chalkboard dense with equations.
   As Yumo found his seat in the back, Obake took his place in the front row. Eshra and Jevoss were also present, though their seats were isolated from the rest of the class.
   “If you’ve been paying attention and have studied like I instructed, then this test will be a breeze. If not, you might be in trouble,” said Sensei Gwell.
   Obake glanced at Yumo, who rubbed his closed eyelids like a stressed parent. Beside him sat a tanned, blonde girl, her hazel eyes fixed on Obake with unabashed affection.
   Sensei Gwell’s voice returned. “Eyes forward.”
   With a snap, Obake turned to her. She regarded him, her freckled face unreadable.
   “Most of you already have enough points without this test. However, for a select few, this will be the deciding factor in whether you pass my class. As you all know, you need this class to graduate.”
   Obake’s mind went haywire. Son of a bitch. I knew I should’ve studied.
   Sensei Gwell waltzed down the aisles, delivering scrolls to every student. When one finally landed on Obake’s desk, it brought a bout of anxiety with it.
   I hate arithmetic and whoever invented it.
   Opening the scroll, he winced as if he expected the equations to leap from the page and attack him. To his surprise, only a few of them looked difficult.
   Wait a minute. This doesn’t look so bad.
   One after the other, he tackled each question, growing more confident all the while.
   “Bring it here.”
   Obake looked up to see Sensei Gwell beckoning Eshra, who stood between the blonde girl and a dark-haired girl. The blonde had reached a level beyond embarrassment, her face shrouded behind bright locks. With a fist clenched at his side, Eshra approached the sensei.
   “Give it to me.”
   Eshra feigned ignorance.
   “I won’t ask twice.”
   He handed a small piece of paper to the sensei, and she began reading its contents.

    Hi, Obake!
   Um… it’s hard for me to say this, but it’s our last year and you still haven’t made a move. I think it’s adorable that you’re too shy to approach me. Actually, I think everything about you is adorable. Well, if you haven’t figured it out yet, I like you, and I was wondering if you felt the same way. Please write back and let me know soon.
   Your not-so-secret admirer,
   Tezza 

    Obake now shared his admirer’s level of embarrassment. He stared down at his desk as the entire class combusted with laughter.
   Even Sensei Gwell chuckled. “Okay, settle down, class. Finish your tests.”
                                                               

                                                                ♦♦♦

    

   The end-of-class gong went off, and the students made hasty retreats.
   Sensei Gwell ushered them along with some semi-ominous words: “Your tests will be graded tonight. You’ll know your fates come tomorrow morning. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
   Through the shuffle of bodies, Obake made eye contact with Eshra and Jevoss, who began taunting him with foolish expressions.  
   Yumo stepped in the way. “Let it go. They’re not worth it. They’re trying to get you to ruin your graduation. Don’t let them win.”
   “Fuck them! Why should we keep letting them get away with this? They’ve been a problem for years.”
   “Kick their ass after we graduate. For now, let’s get to Sensei Pelssa’s on time.”
    Yumo entered a room labeled: Language Mastery. Obake lingered, hoping his nemeses were still in the hall. He finally gave up, only to find them already seated inside. They had chosen desks right next to each other, which only encouraged their obnoxious behavior. Loud talking, tossed writing utensils, and casual burping were among their favorite disruption tactics.
   Jevoss flipped a pencil off the edge of his desk. He then watched it bounce off the ear of a small boy sporting a bowl cut. “Ding! Ding! Ding! Three points for me.”
   Obake almost attacked them on the spot, but decided it would be smarter to catch them alone.
   Sensei Pelssa was present, though he showed no interest in stopping the mayhem unfolding in his classroom. An odd fellow, he had pale skin and an awkwardly shaped physique. His limbs were thin like metal rods, while his torso resembled an upside-down hot-air balloon. Reclined in his chair, he had both feet propped on his desk, a book titled Never Too Late to Get a Date resting in his grasp.
   The nearly two-hour class breezed by in what felt like two minutes. Obake and his one hundred ninety-nine classmates spilled into the second-floor dining hall. With that many students crammed together, the space felt claustrophobic.
   Miss Jiaou stood behind the buffet table, a cooking apron draped over her body. Obake smiled at her, grabbed a tray, and loaded it with as much food as it could hold—watermelon, shrimp, and everything in between. He and Yumo sat alone, spending the first stretch of their hour-long lunch people-watching and bartering snacks.
   “Two more classes and we’re home free,” said Yumo.
   “So, we don’t have to go to the Yokai Ruins anymore?” said Obake, dripping with sarcasm.
   “Well… we’re home free after that.”
   Forty-five minutes into lunch, Obake’s food had vanished into the pit of his stomach, which still wasn’t satisfied. He decided to go back for a second helping. As he returned to the lunch line, the dark-haired girl from Sensei Gwell’s class jumped in front of him.
   “Uh…?” he muttered.
   “My friend wants to talk to you,” she said.
   From a few feet away, Tezza him gave a cutesy wave.
   “But I was—”
   “Don’t be shy.”
   The eager girl took Obake by the arm and wove him between a few tables until he was face-to-face with Tezza.
   “Hi,” she said, gazing at him with longing. 
   Obake looked away; it was all too much. “Uh… hey.” His eyes darted around the dining hall. To his relief, no one was paying them any attention.
   “That was pretty embarrassing, huh?” she said, shifting awkwardly.
   “What? Uh… yeah.”
   “Sorry about that. Stupid Eshra is always messing things up.”
   Every time his eyes met hers, he looked away. “He sure is. Can’t say I’m a fan.”
   “So, um… did you have time to think about my note?”
   “Look… you’re pretty and everything, but—”
   “Wait! You don’t think…?” Her entire demeanor changed in an instant. “I don’t like you like that. I meant, like… you know… a friend.”
   Obake froze. His adolescent brain couldn’t comprehend what was happening. “You… you did?” he asked, more perplexed than ever.
   “Yeah, duh.”
   At last, he developed the courage to look her straight in the eyes. He could see deception hiding within them.
   “Boys are such idiots,” she scoffed, flipping her hair as she strutted off with her friend.
   “Looks like we called you Love Doctor for nothing,” said Eshra.
   He and Jevoss stood nearby, grinning from ear to ear.
   “Does it ever get any better for you, Shrub Head?” added Jevoss.
   The end-of-lunch gong echoed through the dining hall. As Eshra and Jevoss strode past Obake, they each slammed a shoulder into him.
   A second later, Yumo arrived. “You all right?”
   Obake wasn’t listening. He was too busy keeping a watchful eye on his enemies as they exited the dining hall. Knowing Yumo would try to stop him, he slipped into the crowd. Like a shark circling prey in open water, he stalked them. His chance came the moment they stepped into the bathroom. 
   Easing the bathroom door open, the young ninja slipped inside. The urinals were empty—no sign of them. He looked to the sinks, and there they were, washing their hands without a care in the world.
   Obake’s voice filled the bathroom. “Hurry up!”
   Startled, Eshra and Jevoss whipped around.
   “What do you think you’re doing?” snapped Jevoss as Eshra grimaced.
   “Sorry, Shrub Head.” Eshra’s worm-like body slithered toward Obake. “We don’t give potty-training lessons.”
   With his stocky bulk shifting side to side, Jevoss closed in on Obake as well. Despite the two-on-one odds, he didn’t flinch. 
   Eshra reached behind his back, brandishing a small switchblade. “How bout I—”
   Before Eshra could finish his threat, Obake struck him in the throat. He dropped the knife and stumbled back, clutching his neck. Lunging forward, Obake shoved him into the sink. It cracked open, releasing a geyser of water. Bull-like in his momentum, Jevoss charged. Obake sidestepped, letting him crash through the bathroom door and into the hallway for all to see.
   Hoping to go unseen, Obake tried to sneak into the crowd—only for the floor to lurch up at him. His shoulder slammed against it, his neck jerking back. He expected Eshra, but instead found an ebony-skinned man with a bristly mustache staring down at him.
   “Get up. Both of you!”
   With ease, the muscular man lifted Obake and Jevoss to their feet while Eshra tried to slip by undetected.
   “Where do you think you’re going? All three of you follow me,” said the ebony-skinned man.

                                                                 

                                                                 ♦♦♦

    

   Obake found himself in a cozy little office, settled into a comfortable armchair. Beside him sat the ebony-skinned man, Jevoss, and Eshra. He glanced around at the shelves lining each wall and the books packed into them.
   Does he really read all those?
   A nonagon-shaped desk dominated most of the office space. Upon it, a nameplate read: Supreme Sensei Kinichi.
   The three students waited for an hour; the class outside the door had yet to conclude. The ebony-skinned man watched them with an eagle’s focus. Obake jiggled his leg, Eshra twiddled his thumbs, and Jevoss stared down at the carpet. 
   A man with light brown skin walked in, appearing about the same age as Obake’s grandparents. The wrinkles on his face were just as deep, yet he carried a relaxed, prestigious aura. His long gray hair and matching beard only added to it. As he moved, his brown-and-gray robes flowed like silk in a slow breeze.
   “If it isn’t Mr. Batta. What can I do for you and these fine young scholars?”
   “Supreme Sensei, I caught these three fighting in the bathroom on the second level. They caused extensive damage to the sink and the door. I even confiscated a switchblade.”
   Kinichi pulled open a drawer and took out a purple box. After rummaging through it, he produced a small bar of chocolate.
   He took a bite, savoring the taste. “Would any of you like one?” Holding the box out, he shook it in front of each of them. “I have plenty.” 
   Mr. Batta looked confused. “No thank you, sir. I’m on a no sugar diet.”
   “Are you positive? They taste exceptional.”
   “Yes. I’m positive.”
   Kinichi looked from one boy to the next, waiting for their answers. They all shook their heads, as though accepting would spring some kind of trap.
   “Sir, these boys—”
   “Would you say detention is in order?”
   “Detention is too lenient, don’t you think?”
   “Depends on your perspective. Judging by their injuries, I’d say they’ve been punished enough.”
   “But, sir? What about the damages? What about the switchblade? None of them are eighteen yet.”
   “Yes, of course. However, we do live in a land that faces the possibility of war from forces beyond a giant wall.” Kinichi pointed in the direction of Bushido Empire. “It’s not uncommon for our people to arm themselves.”
   “They were going to use it on each other. Not the samurai. They’re just kids. They have no right. As watchman it’s my job to—”
   “I understand your position, but each of them will be eighteen sooner rather than later. Nobody was severely harmed either. I say we consider ourselves lucky.”
   Mr. Batta was beyond flustered. “Yes… yes sir.”
   Kinichi peered at Eshra, who wouldn’t dare meet his gaze. “I will be confiscating your knife for the remainder of the year. Come see me on graduation day with your parents if you’d like to retrieve it.” He turned back to the watchman. “Don’t worry about the damages. Miss Jiaou will repair them in no time. And do me a favor, escort these gentlemen to the caretaker’s office. Dr. Kauzo will see to it they get patched up nicely.”
   Mr. Batta looked as if he’d had the wind ripped from his sails. “Right away, sir.”
   “I’ll be on my way then. I have a class to finish up. I’d hate to keep the students waiting any longer.”

                                                               

                                                               ♦♦♦
 
   Dr. Kauzo was handsome, copper-toned, and younger than any other faculty member. Obake found it hard to believe he wasn’t, in fact, a student.
   “Haven’t seen you in here for a while. How’s life?” asked the doctor.
   Obake glanced around the mid-sized room. “I’m doing all right. Feels weird to be putting this place behind me soon though.”
   Charts of human anatomy and framed medical certifications covered the walls. A row of privacy screens stood neatly in place. It wasn’t the most advanced clinic, but it sufficed.
   Dr. Kauzo examined him for wounds. “I don’t blame you. You’ve spent eight years of your life here.” He slowed, pointing out the faint scratches on Obake’s face and the faint bruising at his neck. “Hmm… looks like you’re developing a knack for injuries.”
   “All of that will be gone soon.”
   The doctor put away his magnifying glass. “Well, I don’t see anything to be too concerned about. The other kids are okay too. I don’t think you’ll have to worry about their parents coming after you.” 
   “Thanks, Doc.”
   “The next time I see you, it had better be at graduation. Or else,” said Dr. Kauzo with a warm smile.
   “You got it,” said Obake, grinning.
 
                                                               ♦♦♦
 
   The late gong for the final period had rung, but Obake wasn’t the only one haunting the hallways. At the top of the first-floor stairs loomed a peculiar woman in strange clothing. The moment she saw him, she lunged his way as if he’d stolen something, her long braid swaying behind her like a tail.
   “Young man, you missed my class,” she said in a high-pitched squeal. 
   Her honey complexion didn’t reflect her personality in the slightest.
   “Sorry, Sensei Oldro, I—”
   “Where were you?”
   “I was in Dr. Kauzo’s office.”
   “You’d better not be lying. I’ll personally see to it you receive the harshest punishment if you are.”
   “I swear.”
   “I’ve warned you and your little friend about ditching before, have I not? Science of the Human Realm is not to be taken lightly.”
   “Yes, ma’am. I never said—”
   “Do you have your homework? You can’t pass without it.”
   “Yeah, it’s right here.”
   “Chop. Chop. I must be on my way. Believe it or not, there are students who truly care to learn.”
   Obake pulled the homework from his satchel. Sensei Oldro snatched it and stomped off, her head held high and mighty.
   Under his breath, Obake hissed, “Fucking bitch.”
   He continued his trek back to Kinichi’s chamber on the third level, his last period. Hoping to avoid attention, he opened the chamber doors slow and steady. To his dismay, everyone noticed.
   Why does everybody always have to stare like that? What am I? Some kind of caged animal?
   The chamber’s grandiosity never failed to draw Obake’s admiration. Its high ceiling, coated in gold leaf, complemented the solid oak flooring. Wave paintings, sweeping landscapes, and soaring falcons gleamed from sections of the surrounding walls. Between them hung weapons—swords, spears, hammers, and bokkens—each displayed with reverence.
   “How good of you to join us,” said Kinichi. 
   Obake sat beside Yumo in the fourth of seven rows.
   Yumo leaned in close. “I thought you got expelled or something,” he whispered.
   “I’m surprised I didn’t,” said Obake, whispering as well.
   Against the wall opposite the entrance sat three platforms, each stacked atop the other. The higher they rose, the smaller they became. On every level, stairs were fixed to either side. July 6th, Year 772. Genesis, Final Lessons was scrawled across a rollaway blackboard standing before the platforms.
   With a stick of chalk, Kinichi wrote a single bullet point: The Forru Concordat. “How many of you know what this is?” 
   He scanned from side to side until a hand went up.
   “That’s the peace treaty between us and the samurai, right?” said a chubby boy with glasses.
   “Don’t you mean the brekkas?” blurted a male voice. 
   The class broke into a chorus of giggles.
   Kinichi ignored the outburst. “Correct. Wonderful answer. It’s a document that was enacted by Grandmaster Forru. He hailed from a place in the Shinobi Empire called Genopai City. No doubt most of you have heard of such a place.”
   Every student in the class went silent. They sat transfixed, their attention glued to the Supreme Sensei.
   “As you are all well aware, we are currently not on the best of terms with our neighboring empire. However, what you may not be privy to is how things came to be this way.”
   A thin girl with chin-length hair extended her hand.
   “Yes. You there.”
   “Haven’t they always been our enemy?” she asked.
   “Not quite. We’ve had many different experiences with the samurai.”
   Gasps fluttered through the chamber.
   “At first, we were united under the Council of Ten, an organization comprising Grand Monarchs—Masters and Magistras alike—half from the Shinobi Empire and half from Bushido. Unfortunately, a famine struck, disrupting delicate trade operations.     That ordeal ultimately drove both factions into conflict.”
   A brown-skinned boy at the back of the class yelled, “That’s it?”
   “You’d be surprised. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” answered Kinichi. 
   All fifty teenagers wore stunned expressions.
   “After years of warring, Grandmaster Forru opted for peace and single-handedly rallied most to his cause. Both empires dispatched their best Kantasian sorcerers and sorceresses. Together, they built the Colossal Divide.”
   “What were they trading, sensei?” asked Yumo.
   “Food and medicine, mostly. Actually, that brings me to my next point. The first two clans to clash were the Gazzo Clan and the former Yokai Clan.”
   Yet again, every student turned to stare at Obake.
   “Why tell you this now? Why haven’t I taught this aspect of our genesis before you ask?”
   Stole the question right out of my mouth.
   “First and foremost, now that all of you are graduating soon… I believe it is imperative I arm you with the knowledge necessary to keep you safe.” Kinichi folded his arms behind his back, standing as still as carved stone. “You may or may not encounter samurai during your individual journeys, but I prefer you all be prepared should that happen.”
   The dead samurai flickered through Obake’s thoughts like a flame.
   “Second, those who don’t know their past are doomed to repeat it.”
   Obake’s nerves flared at the thought of facing the samurai again.
   “Lastly, we can’t advance as a people if we continue to build on a foundation of lies.”
   The girl with chin-length hair raised her hand again.
   “Yes. What’s your question?”
   “My mom told me the brekk—I mean, the samurai were power hungry.”
   “I heard that Gazzo’s wife cheated on him with a ninja,” said another student.
   “I heard that too,” said a student in the front row. “I heard they skin people alive.”
   Kinichi peered at Obake. “You see, a certain someone went to great lengths to cover up the truth. Many counterintelligence measures were put in place, resulting in numerous versions of the story being released to the public.”
   Obake found himself flabbergasted. Papa…?
   “But rest assured, young scholars. I have all the details. We will study this subject more thoroughly starting tomorrow and continue until the end of the year. For now, open your books to chapter nine.”