Grandma waved a fist in the air. “Satoru, we’re leaving. You come too, Wataru.”
Wataru’s answer was crisp and firm. “I’m staying here. I’m staying with Mom.”
Grandma looked pained, as though she’d been stuck with a knife, and Wataru had to look away.
“Right. Kuniko, we’ll leave for tonight,” Uncle Lou said, grabbing his mother by the arm and walking toward the door. “But, please, think about this when you’ve had a chance to cool down. I don’t want anybody to do anything foolish. Okay? Wataru, I’ll be back tomorrow.”
Wataru and his mother were left alone, the house seeming quieter than it had ever been before.
“Wataru, go to bed.”
His mother’s voice was flat and emotionless, just like it had been when she was speaking to Grandma. It was an order.
“I’m going to bed. Get some rest, and we’ll talk about things tomorrow. Okay?”
Wataru was left with nothing to do but go quietly to his room. That woman who came earlier—Rikako Tanaka—had seemed like an ugly witch to him when he first saw her. But now, his mom was the witch. A witch, dressed all in black, spitting curses as she stirred a bubbling cauldron of poisonous stew.
Wataru sat with his back against the side of his bed, holding his knees close to his chest. He was suddenly very sleepy. How could he sleep at a time like this? But already his vision was dimming. His body, and his heart, wanted to escape from this reality.
Yes, sleep. Sleep and leave all this behind.
As he drifted, he heard the sound of a phone ringing.
What time is it? Who could be calling?
The ringing stopped. Did Mom answer it? He could hear someone talking. Now someone was crying. Or maybe they were angry.
Sleep. He didn’t want to hear any of it. No more crying, no more shouting. All he wanted to do was sleep.
Wataru drifted off, sinking into a great dark abyss.
Time passed.
Someone was standing right next to him, shaking him by the shoulder. They weren’t shaking him hard, but they were very persistent.
“Wataru, wake up.”
Someone was talking to him. Whose voice is that? So familiar, yet so strange.
Wataru drifted up from the depths of sleep, the voice leading him to the surface. “Wataru, snap out of it. Quick.”
Wataru opened his eyes. He couldn’t focus. Everything was black. He looked up and saw a figure, darker than the dim background.
Mitsuru!
He was wearing a black cloak that looked like a wizard’s robe. Underneath, he had on a black shirt and a pair of black, loose-fitting trousers. On his feet were knee-length boots tightly wound with leather cord. A leather belt was wrapped around his waist, and from that belt hung a short knife sheathed in a scabbard.
In his right hand, he held a staff—a black staff, topped with a sparkling gem that shone with an eerie light.
“Mitsuru…”
Wataru’s mouth shot open, and he looked around.
Chapter 13
To Vision
Where am I?
Wataru was in his room. It was dark with the lights out, but there was no mistaking it—he was lying in bed in the same position he had been in when he fell asleep.
Wataru threw himself at Mitsuru and grabbed onto the edge of his cloak with both hands. “Mitsuru! Where did you come from? Where have you been? What are you doing here?”
Mitsuru gave a sad smile and, resting his staff beside the bed, he bent down on one knee. “I don’t have time to explain everything at length,” he said, peeling Wataru’s hands from his cloak. “So I’ll be brief. I came to save you. You might say I owe you one.”
“You owe me? You’ve come to save me? What are you talking about?”
“Take a deep breath,” Mitsuru said, looking up at the ceiling. The fine line of his nose seemed to shine even in the darkness. “Smell something?”
Wataru snorted. He started coughing. He’s right, it stinks in here.
“Your mom turned on the gas and let it run.”
Wataru was too terrified to be surprised. Fear shot from the tips of his fingers up to his head like an electric shock.
“She wants to die—with you. She must not know that municipal gas isn’t poisonous enough to be fatal.”
“I-I have to stop her.”
Mitsuru put his hand on Wataru’s shoulder, keeping him from standing up. “There’s time enough for that later. First, you must listen to me.”
Mitsuru lifted his hands to his own neck. He seemed to be wearing something like a pendant—two of them, in fact. He took one off and handed it to Wataru.
It was a tiny silver plate on a black leather strap—very light, and very pretty. “This is a Traveler’s Mark,” Mitsuru said, closing Wataru’s fingers around it. “This will let you travel freely in Vision. Go to the Watcher first and show him this, and he’ll prepare you for your journey. Like so.” Mitsuru spread his hands indicating his own traveling clothes.
“Vision—you mean that place? That other world?”
Mitsuru nodded. “Your memories should be returning to you. Remember?
You’ve been there once. There is a doorway hanging in the space above the staircase in the haunted building. A Watcher waits there for you now. Don’t keep him standing around for too long. Go before the star of morning rises.”
Vision…That strange world, like the fantasy world of Saga II—only this was real.
“So it wasn’t a dream,” Wataru whispered.
Mitsuru smiled. “No, not a dream. Vision exists. In fact, I just came from there. I’ve already begun my journey, but when I looked into the Mirror of Truth, I saw you here. I could have left you to your own devices. But…” Mitsuru chewed on his lower lip. “Like I said before, I owed you one. And, we are alike, we two. We carry the same burden. I suppose that’s why I wanted to give you a chance.”
“A chance?”
Mitsuru stood, brushing back his cloak. “We created Vision—us, the people in this world—with our imaginations. Our thoughts create the energy that makes Vision what it is. It will always be there. But the way in, the Porta Nectere, opens only once in a decade—and then only if there is a place suitable to make the connection. There also has to be someone nearby who wants to change his fate more than life itself—to get back something that was lost. Only then will the gates open.”
Mitsuru took up his staff.
“A suitable place?” Wataru repeated.
“Yes. Like the staircase in the Daimatsu building,” the other boy said, his voice ringing loudly in the rank air of the room. “Staircases are often excellent routes for passage into other worlds. A lot of famous ghost sightings happen on staircases, did you know that? It’s in their nature. Stairs cut through space vertically and make a handy passageway for all sorts of spooks.”
Wataru sat dumbfounded.
“The staircase in the Daimatsu building was made, but it goes nowhere. That’s why the way into Vision opened at its end. That’s where I found it. That’s why the Porta Nectere opened…”
“You…wanted to change fate?”
“I did,” Mitsuru said, showing not a trace of doubt in his voice. He nodded deeply. “You know what happened to my family? You heard, didn’t you?”
This time, Wataru nodded. Mitsuru’s father had killed his mother, killed her lover, killed Mitsuru’s sister, and then lain in wait for Mitsuru to come home from school.
“I want to change my fate,” Mitsuru said, his voice quiet and crisp. “That’s why I went to Vision.”
Gripping his staff, he slid it beneath his cloak. “Vision is a vast place, with much danger, and fearful monsters. But if you can find the Tower of Destiny, the way will open to you.”
“The Tower of Destiny?”
“That is where she lives, the goddess of fate. She listens to the pleas of those who come to her. That’s where I’m going.”
For the first time, Mitsuru’s voice showed a wavering trace of emoti
on. “And if—and if I’m not strong enough, if I can’t save my parents, then at least, I will save my sister. I must bring her back. She was so small…”
Beneath the folds of his cloak, Mitsuru wrung his hands as he talked.
“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 w
ords, 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.