Erynn Lehtonen - Yokai Calling: The Complete Series Omnibus (Books 1-4)

For Makena

one day you will see how bright you shine

and how badly our world needs beauty like yours

H e was stuck. Great.

People pressed at Genshu Masanori from all sides, packed like canes of bamboo to make way for the procession of dancers. Lithe bodies leapt around sapphire paper dragons. Glimmering coils spiralled to the rhythm of festival drums. Pops of smoke and light fanned out to reveal the illusory shapes of hulking demons, which the performers slew with precise cuts of their katana to cheers of the crowd.

Masanori craned his neck, trying to look over the parade and to the other side of the dancers. The Dragon Goddess Fountain sprayed a prism of indigo water into the pool below, and several figures sat on the edge, but he couldnt see their faces. Aihi told him to meet her in the square, but that had been before the schedule for the Midsummer Festival changed and they rerouted a whole parade because some kids thought it would be funny to vandalize the streets that morning with a fake O-Kuruma summoning ritual.

Okay, no, those mock spells were hilarious. When he was younger, Masanori tried conjuring demonsand failedtoo. His stunts came much to the dismay of his proper parents who wanted nothing more than for him to sit still in a laboratory instead of fantasizing about slaying monsters. Unfortunately, this trickery interfered with the first time Masanori was going to see Aihi for more than a passing smile in the palace hallways in over a month.

He wriggled closer to the side of the procession. Was that her on the edge of the fountain? Glossy black hair, fine blue haori overcoat, looking away from the parade instead of at it? Ugh, who else would come all this way not to spare a single glance at the magnificent dancers?

Now he had to find a way across, and waiting out the show would take far too long. Aihi would give up and leave. Then he could kiss any chance of training with a sword outside the watchful eyes of his clan goodbye.

A woman elbowed Masanori in the ribs, pushing him into another man. Who then shoved Masanori back. Before he got a word in, the crowd fed him to the wolves and threw him right into the dancers.

A katana arced from a performer and toward Masanoris exposed collar. He leaned out of the way and then ducked a second strike meant for the mirages rising from the smoke. Masanori grinned, and instead of backing off, assimilated into the cadence of the dance.

Now hed found his way across.

In another lifetime, he could have been a true martial artist, a warrior, dancing on a battlefield and striking down wyverns and any beasts unfortunate enough to cross his path. A swipe and a stab, and the acrobats reduced the illusions to ash.

Masanori swirled under and around swords with each turn. He maintained the dancers flow, manipulating forbidden battle stances to inch toward the other side of the road. The katana at his waist was his mothers, and drawing the blade would have made him a warrior-dancer, too, if for a few minutes. But he was too inexperienced with swords, and he wasnt foolish enough to risk lopping off someones head for a thrill.

The rhythm of the dance shifted, and Masanori twisted in the opposite direction of the acrobats. A katana soared through the smokestraight for his solar plexus. To avoid the strike, he careened backward and right into another dancer. They stumbled, two more performers toppling onto the markets cobbled ground.

Watch it, kid!

A series of curses, and then a blade flew in Masanoris direction. Gasps echoed from the crowd as the catastrophe erupted, him right in the middle.

A hand from outside the pack of dancers grabbed his sleeve and yanked him away from the incoming sword. Masanori toppled, praying to the Dragon Goddess that he wouldnt land on the sharp end of a misplaced weapon. He fell into the centre of the square, smacking his head against the stone edge of the Goddess fountain.

Trying to get yourself killed already? Weve yet been here ten minutes.

Hidekazu loomed from above. Streams of his ebony hair fell over his shoulders, at least what wasnt captured in a messy topknot. The familiar blue haori Masanori had spotted from across the road billowed around Hidekazus thin arms when he offered a hand.

Masanori scowled instead of accepting. It wasnt Aihi he spotted on the fountain, but his twin brother, Hidekazu. The only other person who would rather read a book than watch the parade.

Relax, I had everything under control. Masanori rubbed the sore spot at the back of his skull. The injury would throb for a few days, but better than another stab wound.

Consider being nearly eviscerated by a blade not aimed at you a warning not to test the Goddess patience. Laughter erupted from Hidekazu, bemused by his own joke. Though it was a joke, the laughter only stung Masanori more.

You sound like you're telling me to give up. Why should I when youre on the verge of achieving what weve both wanted our entire lives? Masanori glared at his twins lanky form. Youre built like a bamboo pole, not a proper bushi, yet youll become one before me.

Bushi. The word spread across Masanoris tongue like ashthe flavour of desolated dreams.

He and Hidekazu longed to join the ranks of bushi, the warrior elite who fought to defend Seiryuu, their homeland, from a myriad of threats. Demons, spirits, creatures of the night, and, when necessary, from neighbouring nations who might be foolish enough to challenge Seiryuu.