Isuzu Saori is the nameless exorcist woman from ch 23-26 (anime episodes 32-33)

# # # Chapter 21 # # #

One arm firmly wrapped behind her companion's neck, Isuzu Saori fought to keep her hair out of her eyes with her other hand, peering downward as they approached their destination.

They appeared to have passed the bulk of the town; quiet houses and darkened shop fronts for the most part giving way to fields, some clearly left untended for far longer than the previous week. Ahead, small stands of trees began to give way to the forest that was their goal.

She'd seen no sign of movement, human or otherwise, on their way in.

Disappointing, but not unexpected. This would likely be a short trip.

Kichou swooped downward – her arm tightened – and hovered above the road just long enough to satisfy them both as to its safety. He set her down and she turned to watch as his broad wings – the same brown-speckled yellow as the butterfly from which he derived his name – folded away, leaching color into the simple yukata he wore. With his wings gone, only the chalk-white of his skin and his antennae kept him from looking completely human.

That and the fact that other humans couldn't see him, of course.

"Thank you again for bringing me here," she said.

"It was my pleasure."

She turned towards the stairs that ought to lead to their destination, quickly redoing the ponytail that had become hopelessly tangled during their long flight. The Natori clan head's directions had been surprisingly good for someone who claimed never to have visited the place.

She started the climb, Kichou's quiet steps behind her nagging like an old injury flaring up on a rainy night. It had been … a long time.

Flashes of movement occasionally drew her eye to the forest now surrounding them. Youkai, no doubt, though it surprised her to see so many. Back in the village, they'd mostly disappeared back into the deep forest and mountains.

"Exorcist", she thought she heard, in the quietest of whispers. "Careful. Exorcist."

I'm not! she wanted to scream, Not anymore! Never again!

Never again.

Yet as a human who could see, as someone with all her training, coming as she was at the behest of an exorcist, was there truly any difference?

Natori is not Matoba.

She did not know him well, but that much she thought she could depend on. He was no friend of Matoba, though he did not despise the man as deeply as she did. She wondered sometimes if anyone could, when the bitterness clutched at her throat until she feared she'd choke on it. Then sometimes it would ebb away until she felt almost normal, almost like before.

But after 'before' had come 'after'.

No, Natori was not like Matoba. He'd left her the space to grieve, this past year; to recover, to slowly begin relearning how to live. When the world had fallen down around them all, he'd sent Sasago not with demands, but simply to find out whether she and those near her were well.

And even this – this almost pathetically simple task had been phrased as a request, not a command.

Simply: I have friends in Yowake. Would you go to them? Talk to them? Teach them? Learn from them, whatever they have to teach, and take it back home to share with your people?

A part of her had seriously considered denying him, simply to see what sort of steel his velvet glove masked. But in the end, curiosity had won.

Still.

She paused, a step above Kichou, leaving them about the same height. "You should go."

She didn't know him well; had not even known of his existence until four days ago, when he had emerged from the forest with a request for aid. They were companions in adversity, nothing more.

But she would not allow a youkai in her care to come to harm.

Never again.

His antennae twitched, though his facial expression remained calm. "I believe I shall stay."

"You don't know what we might encounter –"

"Nor do you." He raised an eyebrow pale enough to be almost invisible. "Am I your shiki, to obey your every command?"

"No."

"Then allow me to know my own path."

Her glare met his determined stare; there was no knowing how much longer they might have continued standing there had a polite cough not drawn both their attention.

"Hello," said a young man with shaggy black hair and thin-rimmed glasses, once he had their attention. "If you're looking for Yatsuhara Temple, it's just up these stairs."

The young man's eyes appeared to be flicking between Saori and Kichou, who'd stepped to the side to get a better view of him. Could this be the Tanuma-kun who Natori had mentioned? He appeared to mostly fit the description. The glasses were new, but if he was truly as weak as Natori had implied, not entirely unexpected.

"We are," Saori said, placing only the slightest of emphasis on the first word to see how the boy would react. As far as she could tell, he didn't.

"Then you are both welcome," he said with a smile that did a terrible job of hiding the tense set to his shoulders. She wondered why. Perhaps he just had a nervous personality. "Please, come with me."

"I am curious how you learned of our approach," Kichou observed idly, as they followed the boy up the stairs. "Unless we are keeping you from some errand?"

"A few of the youkai in this area let u – me know that they'd spotted strangers, so I came down to take a look," he said, demonstrating he could apparently hear as well as see. "It's not … precisely safe, off purified ground, anymore. … As I'm sure you have already discovered."

"I hear it is you we have to thank for the knowledge that purified grounds mean safety," Saori said. The boy's steps faltered. "You are Tanuma-kun, correct?"

He stopped, turning to look back at them. "Yes, that's me. Sorry, did I not introduce myself?" His apparent embarrassment seemed sincere. "And I wouldn't say … I mean, really it was my dad who …" He paused, eyes widening. "How did you know that? Did Natori-san send you?"

"I have come for my own sake," Saori said pointedly. She was no lackey. "But I am acquainted with Natori-san, yes."

"So you are an exorcist, too?" Tanuma-kun asked. "I – we have so many questions, especially now. We lost power earlier this afternoon." He shot her an uncertain-looking smile. "If you're still here, you're welcome to join us for supper, but it might be cold." Another quick glance towards Kichou. "If you, um, eat human food, you're welcome to join us too?"

"I appreciate the thought, but it is unnecessary," Kichou said.

"Let's see what the evening brings," Saori said. Although even cold food, prepared properly, would have little difficulty competing against the crackers and dried fruit that were all she'd brought. "Your power is out? Have you checked the breakers?"

Tanuma-kun shook his head. "We tried that. You flew in, right? We're guessing it's out all over town, now, but we haven't checked yet."

"I don't remember seeing any lights on," Saori admitted. She checked the cellphone she'd borrowed off Kimiko, a girl who'd been home from college visiting her sick mother who lived in town, and who'd suggested she bring it along just in case. Out of range.

"We think the entire region probably lost power at about the same time," Tanuma-kun offered. "And, well, cell towers run on electricity too, I guess. That's why –" he hesitated. "Never mind. It can wait."

Saori raised a questioning eyebrow, but Tanuma-kun had already turned to continue up the steps.

The stairs led to a broad open space, grassy in spots, packed dirt in others, with what looked like the main building of the temple right in front of them and the hints of several other buildings, further back, in its shadow. About what Saori would have expected; very similar in construction to any number of other temples she'd seen.

Less common was the sheer number of people: mostly adults and teenagers around Tanuma-kun's age, some younger, a very few far older. If the entire remainder of the village she'd come from had gathered in one place, she thought it would look a bit like this.

A few of the smallest children kicked a ball back and forth across the packed dirt, shrieking happily. A couple of the adults seemed to be keeping an eye on them; most of the rest gathered in small groups, talking quietly. A few people stared at Saori and her companions – doubtless only seeing her and the boy – but not as many as she had expected.

A very familiar unevenness beneath her sandal; she reflexively lifted her foot and only belatedly remembered there was no circle here to accidentally ruin by scuffing the wrong lines at the wrong time.

Or was there?

Eyes narrowed, she turned her attention away from the human inhabitants of this place. There, another line, blurred but not entirely erased. Over there, an area of dirt too smooth compared to its surroundings to be anything but intentional.

And, quickly fading away under the feet of the children, a deeply etched symbol that had her struggling not to show the surprise on her face as she revised her estimation of the size of – whatever it had been – sharply upward.

She suddenly wondered if everyone was paying quite as little attention as she had thought.

And found herself very curious about what they had tried so hard to hide.

"Your town –" Tanuma-kun said. Were his words a hasty attempt at distraction? Was his tenseness due to more than discomfort at interacting with a stranger? "Will it be all right without you? Not that we don't appreciate you coming! But if it's at the expense of others …"

"I would not have left them unprotected," Saori said. Perhaps, then, in her grief and rage – but she was better now. "A handful of lower-level exorcists from former Natori subsidiary clans live in the area; the survivors are safe in their hands."

"That's good," he said. "… What's a subsidiary clan?"

He truly knew so little about their world.

Saori summarized the relationship as they rounded the far side of the main building, Tanuma-kun hopping several lines dug clean and deep into the dirt with the slight awkwardness of a beginner.

The barest hint of power tickled across her skin as she followed. Chrysanthemum ward, fairly weak but quite stable. Why leave this up, when they'd made a point of hiding the other?

Behind the main building, a group of adults clustered around a broad, shallow hole in the ground that sat about halfway to a smaller satellite building. One looked up as they approached: a kind-looking bald man, wearing the black robe of a priest.

He smiled warmly. "I see you found our visitor."

"Visitors," Tanuma-kun corrected, to Saori's surprise. Though perhaps she should have expected it – she doubted he'd drawn the ward around the main house in secret. Much less whatever the erased lines had been. "This is, um."

"Isuzu Saori," she said, and bowed. "My companion is called Kichou."

"It is a pleasure to meet you both," the priest told her right shoulder. Incorrect, but not an unreasonable guess, given Tanuma-kun's position to her left.

"She's an exorcist," Tanuma-kun added, "an acquaintance of Natori-san's."

"Ah, and how is that young man?"

"He seemed well, the last time we talked," Saori said. She indicated the hole. "If you don't mind my asking …"

"Trying to build a fire pit," said a man with short black hair and an easygoing smile. "A few of us own grills, but no one's really in the mood for another trip back to town at the moment." Echoing Tanuma-kun's earlier offer, he said, "You're welcome to join us for dinner, though it may be … interesting."

"I'd love to," she said. Those lines had piqued her curiosity. And she supposed there was also Natori's request to consider.

Tanuma-kun made a relieved sound. She glanced towards him and he flushed, but straightened and met her gaze. "Um. Feel free to say no, I'm not trying to make you feel obligated or anything. And I don't even know if it will do any good. But. If there's anything you can teach us. Will you? Please?"

"Us?"

"I want to learn, too." Saori turned to face a girl with shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair who looked around the same age as Tanuma-kun. "I can't even see, but … if there's something I can do, I want to know."

"Probably several others, too," Tanuma-kun said, looking vaguely apologetic. "People are interested."

"Your talents truly are public, then?" Saori asked. That seemed the most likely explanation, though remembering her own high school years, she wasn't sure even a situation this dire would have been enough to convince her to make that choice.

"I had to," he said.

The girl met her gaze, defensively protective. "None of us would have made it home without him."

"Taki –"

"It's true." She lifted her chin. "So, will you?"

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything," the girl replied immediately.

"Can you teach us how to create soushi and hishi?" Tanuma-kun asked, amused smile falling away almost as quickly as it had appeared. "… and anything else you can."

"That should be simple enough," Saori said. "I cannot guarantee results."

"We'll try our best," Tanuma-kun said, Taki-chan nodding her agreement. Were she younger, she'd have been tempted to believe that the strength of their determination would be sufficient to overcome their lack of talent.

She'd been involved in the exorcist world for far too long to believe that, anymore.

"All I ask in return is that you teach me."

"Teach you?" Tanuma-kun said. "I mean, if there's something we can teach, but …"

"Teach me how to drive those things away," Saori said. "Teach me everything you know about them, no matter how slight or seemingly unimportant."

"Oh," Tanuma-kun said, "Of course."

Like he'd never for a moment considered any other answer; like he had no idea how much power could lie in information.

"Then we have a deal," Saori said.

#

Tanuma-kun gave Saori the short version of the high schoolers' trip home while Taki -chan dashed off to round up any other interested parties, only to be forcibly ejected from the position of storyteller as soon as his classmates returned. He fruitlessly protested their more dramatic retelling. Saori suspected the truth lay somewhere in between.

The story cleared up a few of her questions – most notably, the source of the Chrysanthemum wards she'd now seen encircling a couple of other buildings as well – but the scuffed up circle in the central courtyard had not been mentioned.

She wondered if it was overly cynical of her to find that suspicious.

"There are two key parts to both hishi and soushi," she told the ten – ten! – teenagers gathered in a loose clump in front of her. They'd claimed a quiet area near one of the more remote satellite buildings. "The circle, which describes the spell, and the paper doll, which serves as its vessel."

She drew the circle into dirt in front of them with clean, deep lines, and pulled a paper doll from the small bag that contained everything she'd brought with her: crackers, dried fruit, her hairbrush, a small bar of soap, a handful of exorcist supplies. Paper dolls formed the majority of the last category, being one of the lightest and most versatile of her options. She was no Natori, but neither had she spent the past year entirely idle.

"Let's start with hishi," she said, and held out her hand. "Who wants to try first?"

All eyes turned to Taki-chan and Tanuma-kun, and the two of them looked at each other. Despite the fact that Tanuma-kun was likely the only one with a real chance of succeeding, it was Taki-chan who spoke. "I will."

She held out her hand, palm up, and Saori placed the paper dollon it. "Hold your hand over the circle and imagine the person to whom you want to send it as clearly as you can. Saying or thinking their name often also helps. Try someone nearby, first – the closer they are, the less power you need."

Taki-chan nodded and closed her eyes, brow creasing. The rest of the children watched the girl with such intensity she wondered if any of them were still breathing.

Saori kept her eyes on Taki-chan's hand. She couldn't remember ever having taken this long, but as long as the girl could keep concentrating, it seemed a shame to dash her hopes just yet.

The paper doll fluttered.

One of the girls, with large glasses and her dark brown hair in braids, sucked in a breath, unexpectedly loud in the expectant silence. Taki-chan flinched and opened her eyes. She deflated slightly at the sight of her hand. "I thought –" she started, but shook her head, expression flashing briefly bitter.

"It moved," the brown-haired girl said quietly. "We all saw it."

Taki-chan looked to Tanuma-kun, and he nodded in confirmation. "Not far," he said, "but it did move. So if you felt something, maybe you just need to do that but … more … or something?"

He looked to Saori for help. She frowned. "I've heard there are exercises that some exorcists use to improve their focus and ability to draw on their power." The interest level of the group surrounding her rocketed, and she raised a hand. "Rumors only. I never followed up. I'll see if I can find out anything more solid, once I return."

If any of her contacts had survived – but from the tight looks on the childrens' faces, it appeared that that didn't need to be said.

Of course, if they had survived, they had probably joined forces with Matoba; she suspected anyone not actively feuding with him had by this point. And Matoba – well. She thought she might be able to stand in the same room with him without trying to kill him, now. If he didn't say or do anything. Or smile. Or look in her direction. Or smugly, pointedly refrain from saying or doing anything.

… Maybe not.

Perhaps she could ask Natori to investigate instead.

Surely some progress had been made, since the last time she'd heard about the subject. The decline in overall power of the average exorcist had been a long-discussed and -researched subject in their community, and it was only growing more important as the years passed.

"I'd appreciate it," Taki-chan said quietly.

"It still may not help – those exercises can only focus what power you already have."

"Even if it doesn't help me, maybe it'll help someone else," Taki-chan said. She held the paper doll towards Saori. "Do you –"

"You're welcome to keep it, for now," Saori said. "The spell on it will need renewing. Perhaps you can learn to do that." Personally, she didn't judge it likely. But then, she wouldn't have thought the girl capable of erecting those wards, either.

"Who next?" she asked the rest of the group.

"May I?" the girl with the braids asked hesitantly, looking towards Tanuma-kun.

"Of course," the boy replied, looking relieved.

"You can do it, Masami," the girl sitting beside her said, her long black hair tied back in a ponytail like a less windswept version of Saori's own, and squeezed her hand. Taki-chan shifted out of the way to give the girl access to the circle.

She stopped far sooner than Taki-chan, frustration creasing her brow. "Nothing's happening," she said, and looked towards the other girl. "What was it like?"

Taki-chan made a vague gesture. "Like ... I could feel it on my palm before, but then suddenly I could really feel it. I guess?" She made a face. "Sorry, I know that's not helpful. But it didn't even really work for me, so ..."

"But it almost did," the other girl said staunchly. "And you're really good at explaining this sort of thing."

Was that a quick glance Taki-chan shot her direction? Did Tanuma-kun look worried? It made Saori wonder what Taki-chan had been explaining. The ward?

The brown-haired girl looked back towards the circle, clear longing in her eyes, but finally closed her hand around the paper and shifted backwards. "Even if I tried again, it probably wouldn't work any better," she said, seemingly to herself, looked at her black-haired friend. "Sanae, you should try next."

The other girl made a half-hearted attempt to demur, then they traded positions. She, too, provoked no reaction, to the surprise of the rest of their classmates.

"I guess it really doesn't have anything to do with power, then," Tanuma-kun said. At Saori's quizzical look, he explained, "Yoshida-san was really the first person to discover that chanting warded off those creatures."

"I'm not sure it counts when all I did was not die," the other girl protested weakly, looking uncomfortable at the attention. "Anyway, someone else should try next."

In the end only three of the children drew any reaction at all out of the paper doll: Taki-chan, a black-haired young man named Ogawa, and a blonde girl named Shinohara. Ogawa-kun's had only fluttered, even more weakly than Taki-chan's, but the paper doll had actually lifted off Shinohara-chan's hand. It might have started to fly off – though clearly neither far nor fast – if the reaction of her classmates hadn't predictably broken her concentration.

"I wondered if I might have a little bit of talent," she confessed shyly. "I … heard a youkai, once."

The only one left, all eyes turned to Tanuma-kun.

He shifted uncomfortably, but the hand he held out was steady. Eyes closed, his breathing settled into a slow, even rhythm. The paper doll began to rise only a few seconds later, slowly, haltingly, but unmistakably. A few of the gathered children made noises, but only a pause in the paperdoll's rise gave any sign that he'd heard at all.

At about his eye level it stopped, fluttering as though pinned in place in a light breeze. Saori found herself leaning forward, and forced herself to settle back into place. So. Weak, yes. But not so weak that he couldn't be taught at least a few things.

Almost slowly enough to be mistaken for the work of a natural breeze, the slip of paper floated above the group, and landed in the cupped hands of a curly-haired boy, eyes wide behind his glasses. "Um, Tanuma? Did you send it to me?"

The boy's eyes snapped open, and he half-rose to turn and look. "It worked?" He sounded like he couldn't believe it; looked far more surprised than the rest of the group when the other boy held up the scrap of paper as proof.

"But why me?"

Tanuma-kun smiled sheepishly. "I was afraid if I sent it too far, it would run into a wall, and I noticed you were at the back of the group, so …"

"The spell has enough basic navigation to avoid running into walls or other obvious obstacles, generally," Saori said. "Although it's vulnerable to a variety of other things – animal attack, a curious human with a quick eye and good reflexes, sudden rain showers …" She smiled, probably not invitingly. "There are reasons we don't typically trust them for critical communications over more than extremely short distances."

"What do you use instead?" Taki-chan asked.

"Most exorcists have multiple shiki, so they can afford to send one with a message if it's critical and confidential," Saori said, and shrugged. "Phone calls. Email, occasionally."

Surprised stares met her gaze. Saori successfully suppressed her smile, but suspected that the amusement was still clear in her voice. "Despite occasional appearances to the contrary, we are modern day humans, after all." Not that the 'properly traditional' set would willingly acknowledge that, much of the time. She'd met one or two who seemed to honestly believe that computers were possessed, despite knowing for a fact that that was not the case.

"… or were, at least," Tanuma-kun said quietly, looking down at his empty hand. "Thank you. For teaching us."

"Don't worry, this is only the beginning," Saori said cheerfully. "Shall we give soushi a try next?"

"Tanuma goes first!" someone – one of the boys, by the voice – called out, to general amused agreement among everyone but the boy himself.

Saori started scuffing out the parts of the circle she'd need to change – thankfully, not many; the two techniques were very closely tied – when the girl with braids called out, "Wait!" Saori paused.

"Do you mind if I sketch it, first?" she asked, picking up a sketchbook. "So I don't forget?"

"I'll be teaching all of you to draw it soon," Saori said, and waved a hand. "But sure, you're welcome to."

"Thanks," she said with a quick smile, and started sketching, lines as smooth and well-placed as a number of seasoned exorcists Saori knew.

"You said the paper doll would need to have its spell renewed," Taki-chan said, leaning forward with bright eyes, "but didn't you say earlier that it's just a vessel for the spell in the circle?"

"There are numerous variations, but in general paper dolls are spelled to increase their usefulness as vessels," Saori said. "Think of it as the difference between a lump of raw clay with a dent in middle and a pot that's been thrown and fired. One is far better at holding water than the other."

"So a paper doll that's been used goes back to clay?" Taki-chan asked. "Or is it more like a leaky pot?"

"I'd say initially like the leaky pot, but the more it is used, the further it degrades." She waved a dismissive hand. "Of course, if you've got enough power to throw around, you can probably force it to your will regardless. But for maximum effectiveness and minimum expenditure of power, drawing the circle and holding the paper doll above it, so that it can more easily absorb the shape and intent of the circle's spell, is the best way."

"So the circle is the spell?" Taki-chan asked.

"The circle plus the invoker's intent give shape to the spell; their innate power gives it strength. A well-drawn circle and well-preparedpaper dollsboth channel that power better. Less gets wasted than otherwise, which is important when you don't have a whole lot of power to waste."

"Does the power expenditure change with the distance you expect it to travel?" Taki-chan asked. "Is it a constant drain until the paper doll reaches its destination, or does it draw all the power it needs upfront?"

"Yes, there is a difference in power requirements," Saori replied. "Not a very large one, but it does add up." She frowned. "I believe it's a one-time draw."

"How does it know how much power to draw?"

Saori wondered if she ever ran out of questions, especially given that the topic would always be theoretical to her at best. "Magic," she said flippantly.

Taki-chan sighed, but rallied. "Does how you make the circle matter? What materials you use, I mean?"

"Hand-ground ink, brush, and mulberry paper are commonly acknowledged to work best," Saori said.

"Like with calligraphy?" One of the girls asked, perking up.

"Very similar," Saori nodded towards her. "A number of exorcists do calligraphy as a hobby. Sand also works well, as long as it is packed enough not to lose the lines." She gestured downwards. "For many spell circles dirt is non-ideal, but it has the benefit of being deeply tied to nature, so in some cases it's more powerful than all but the highest-quality paper and ink."

"Not this spell, though?" Taki-chan guessed.

"Correct."

"So Shinohara might be able to do it too, if we had used better materials for the circle?" A tall girl with her hair in a high ponytail asked.

"Probably not enough to matter," Saori said. "You're welcome to try later."

"Does your father do calligraphy?" Taki-chan asked Tanuma-kun. "Maybe we can borrow some of his supplies."

"Not often," Tanuma-kun said, "but he might have a few things around. I'll ask."

"Done," the braided girl said, closing her sketchbook. Saori thought she caught glimpses of curved black lines as the pages flipped by, but not enough to tell the form of the other sketches. "Sorry it took so long."

Saori returned to erasing and modifying lines.

She noted with amusement that even as Tanuma-kun reluctantly re-took the central position in front of the circle and looked to her for instructions, the other girl had started sketching the soushi circle as well.

"It's about the same as the hishi spell," she told him. "Just imagine the face and name of the person you're trying to find, as clearly as you can."

He nodded and closed his eyes, settling back into the position he'd taken before.

The paper doll lifted a bit more smoothly, and perhaps more quickly, this time. She wondered if it was due to practice, or if the boy's apparent lack of confidence in his abilities had a deeper effect on him than she had assumed.

When the paper doll started wafting back towards the central courtyard, Taki-chan touched Tanuma-kun's shoulder. "It worked."

He stirred, opening his eyes cautiously, like he feared the paper doll would disappear once he did.

Taki-chan stood and offered Tanuma-kun a hand up, as everyone else stood as well. "Who'd you send it to?" one of the boys asked.

Taki-chan looked at Tanuma-kun, a clear question in her eyes, and he shook his head so slightly it barely qualified as a motion at all. Saori wondered what that was about. Another question to add to the list, she supposed.

Another boy nudged him. "Idiot, it's no fun if you ask. We should just follow it."

The paper doll drifted several meters away and hovered there. Tanuma-kun kept sliding glances at it and looking away, as though afraid that if he looked for too long, the spell would break. He settled his shoulders and said, "It'll probably be pretty obvious once we get there."

"But that's not the point," Taki-chan said.

Tanuma-kun inclined his head to acknowledge the point, and the rest of the group fell in behind them like it was natural. For all his usual hesitance, he didn't seem to notice it.

They circled the building behind which they'd settled, walking infuriatingly slowly. "If you start moving faster, the paper doll ought to speed up to match," Saori said. Given that he'd succeeded in invoking it, the boy ought to have enough power to manage that much.

Tanuma-kun just nodded and started walking at something closer to a reasonable speed; Taki-chan looked at her. "How much faster can you go and have that still work? If you hopped on a, I don't know, a bicycle and pedaled as fast as you could, would you outpace it? How about a car on the highway?"

"Ultimately it depends on the invoker's power level." Tanuma-kun flinched. "To a certain extent on their control as well. Someone too powerful who's unused to controlling their power will throw everything in at once, overloading the paper doll and making it fly away so fast that the sudden strain breaks the connection and it disappears. Up to the invoker's limit, it tends to operate based on their subconscious desire." She eyed the black-haired boy, considering what little she'd seen of him so far, and what she'd seen of other weak exorcists. "You could probably make one keep up with a bike. A car might be pushing it, unless you were driving fairly slowly."

"I'm too young to drive, anyway," Tanuma-kun said dryly.

… She kept forgetting just how young these children were. She knew her own high school years hadn't been as long ago as they sometimes felt, but … they were so young.

The paper doll wafted its way around another building and then, to Tanuma-kun's evident surprise, shifted direction towards the back of the temple rather than heading out to the central courtyard where, Saori assumed, most of the currently active population still gathered.

They passed behind the main temple building, the children pausing to wave to the adults still working on the fire pit, circled another building, passed through a small garden centered around a small pond, and entered the trees, the paper doll dodging around and under the low-hanging branches that occasionally blocked its path.

"Ah, here's where you two were hiding," Saori heard the temple's priest well before they saw him. "Shouldn't you be back with everyone else?"

"But it's boring without Jun-nii there," a young voice complained.

"He's hiding somewhere learning cool magic without us," someone who sounded nearly identical agreed. "We wanted to do cool magic too!"

Saori wondered which of the students trailing behind her was the older brother in question. It sounded like he had his hands full. (She wished she could wonder what their parents were doing, letting them wander off like this, but she suspected she knew that answer far too well.)

The paper doll shuddered to a stop, jerking back and forth as though torn between two very different paths.

"I don't believe this is the right time or place, however," the priest said, gently reproving. "You promised Taki-san, didn't you?"

… Taki-chan? Why would they promise Taki-chan anything?

"… Yeeees," the two young voices chorused, resigned.

The paper doll jerked harder. Saori glanced back.

"Are you all right, Tanuma?" Taki-chan asked.

"Yes, I'm fine," he said, then looked towards Saori with a sheepish smile that didn't match the strain around his eyes. "I think it broke, though. Maybe we should go back and try again?"

Saori suspected she knew exactly what was making the paper doll act 'broken'. What she didn't know was why.

"Now I think you two should clean this up and go wait for your brother, don't you?"

"But –!"

"—we want to see if it works!"

She inclined her head back towards the voices further down the path. "I believe I'm curious, too. Aren't you?"

Helpless frustration, surprising in its intensity. A look of wordless apology towards Taki-chan that would have been as good as a confession if her name hadn't already been mentioned, and if Saori had had any idea what he was confessing to. The rest of the group looked similarly on edge.

Except, strangely enough, Taki-chan herself. She smiled, amused and perhaps resigned. "I am too."

Saori turned forward just in time to see the paper doll stop shuddering and shoot off at an impressive rate through the last of the trees. She emerged into the open just as a nature youkai who looked mostly humanoid aside from having vines for arms stepped across the first of a group of lines scratched into the ground in a … not completely terrible representation of a circle that did not more than superficially resemble anything she'd ever seen before.

The priest looked up and smiled. "Ah, our guest. What brings you out here?"

He might have convinced her nothing of import was occurring, had she not heard the previous conversation and seen the students' reactions. Or had the two young culprits, their black hair cut identically short, not whirled and stared at her with the guiltiest expressions she'd seen in a long time.

Or had the nature youkai, its vines wavering gently, not squeaked, "Exorcist!"

Or had the two boys not jumped and turned to look at each other, pride and guilt warring on their faces.

The paper doll drifted that last meter or so, oblivious to anything else, to hover in front of the priest's face. He held out a hand and watched, appearing slightly bemused, as it settled there.

"Sorry, Dad," Tanuma-kun said.

"… I rather think that's my line, don't you?" Saori said.

#

Saori sat on the main temple's walkway, feet dangling, and listened, bemused, as the girl herself explained what everyone called 'Taki's circle'. Tanuma-kun hovered nearby, watching her with narrow eyes, as though daring her to react in any way but positively to the girl's story.

Behind both of them, in the central courtyard, the girl with braided hair traced – or rather, as Taki-chan's story confirmed, re-traced – a much larger version of the circle with a sturdy stick held in mostly-steady hands.

"I take it that it wasn't just you who the youkai warned of my approach, then," Saori said dryly, looking towards Tanuma-kun. "I'm impressed you all managed to cover things up as well as you did, with as little time as you must have had."

"We couldn't have, without everyone else's help," Tanuma-kun said. He returned her look with interest, seeming very slightly less guarded. "You're taking this very well, for an exorcist."

"I've never seen something like this before, but it's clear that it seems to work. Why wouldn't I be curious?"

The girl with braided hair stepped back, apparently done re-drawing the circle. Not long after, a handful of the youkai that had been watching her progress entered the circle. The girl appeared to deflate with relief, and a handful of the gathered humans crossed over as well; mostly children who were apparently eager to play with their interesting new friends.

Saori wished she remembered what it was like to have been that young; to see youkai as sources of wonder without pausing to worry about the very real damage they could do. What would it have been like, to not only have those experiences, but to be able to share them with others who couldn't normally see?

"A friend of mine told me that exorcists saw it as a forbidden technique," Taki-chan said. "If it existed at all." Which, clearly, it did.

"So now that you know, what are you going to do about it?" Tanuma-kun asked.

"Ask you to teach it to me," Saori replied, and suppressed a smile at the surprise on both their faces. "I understand the reasoning behind forbidding it, and I hope you two realize what you're getting into –"

"We do," Taki-chan said. Tanuma-kun looked a bit less sure, but did not contradict her.

"– But if used with appropriate caution …"

"It could be very useful indeed," Kichou agreed. He eyed the two students thoughtfully from Saori's other side.

Tanuma-kun squinted in his direction. "Can youkai use it?" he asked doubtfully.

"Even assuming we cannot, we could bring the pattern to those who can," Kichou said. "Humans are not the only ones who wish sometimes for the ability to communicate to those who are not of them."

Saori looked at Kichou, wishing she knew better his to read his mostly-expressionless face. The tone of his voice struck a chord in her - perhaps how she might feel years from now, when the pain had worn away a bit more and she could remember the good times without focusing on how it had ended.

Tanuma-kun nodded slowly. "That makes sense, but …"

Taki-chan nudged him, and he smiled sheepishly at her. "Sorry. He was just pointing out that youkai form connections with humans, too."

"They do, don't they?" Taki-chan responded with a wavery smile.

"Would it really be okay, though? Spreading it so far, putting it into the hands of so many people?" Tanuma-kun asked, seeming himself unsure of whether he was talking to Taki-chan or Saori or both. "Here, we – well, we think we know the risks. We think the benefits are worth it. But if youkai could just take a copy of the circle anywhere, and just leave it there for anyone to pick up, what's to keep it from being used to malicious ends?" He looked straight at Taki-chan.

"I know, but it could do so much good, too," she said. "I … I don't know, but …"

Tanuma-kun turned back to Saori. "And you took it well enough, but would all exorcists feel the same? They wouldn't, would they?"

Saori folded her arms. "It's probably best to keep the knowledge mostly under wraps for now," she admitted grudgingly. "Before the events of the past week it would have been unthinkable. Now … most exorcists would probably still be opposed. People like Matoba, who I'm sure is suffering under some sort of delusion that he'll protect normal humans from youkai and those creatures both, and would hardly be willing to suffer any sort of interference in those plans."

Both children stilled.

"Who is Matoba?" Tanuma-kun asked, suddenly intent. "What is he to your world?"

"He's an exorcist, head of one of the most powerful clans," Saori said. The words wanted to burst from her – so many things she could say, so many curses she could call down on his head – but these kids didn't know anything about that. She tried not to drag uninvolved innocents into her feuds. Anymore. "I used to be part of his clan, but we … don't see eye to eye."

"But he'll treat normal humans well?" Tanuma-kun asked.

"Probably," Saori allowed. "As long as they don't get in his way or have something he wants. He's very good at getting what he wants." She eyed them back. "Why so interested?"

It was clear that the name was not new to either of them. What she couldn't figure out was how two children so otherwise unknowledgeable about the exorcist world would have come across Matoba's name. Neither seemed the sort to have parents who would patronize his more public face.

"He kidnapped a friend of ours' foster parents," Tanuma-kun said, eyes burning.

"According to some of the youkai who live in the area," Taki-chan added, more cautious but no less offended beneath her patina of politeness.

"Whose?" Saori asked, eyebrows raised. She'd believe many things of Matoba, but kidnapping – she could see it, but she doubted it would be his first choice.

She could see them withdraw. "I'm sorry for your loss," she added.

"No, it's not –" Tanuma-kun said.

"We hope he's alive," Taki-chan said. "Somewhere."

The two of them exchanged yet another look, and Tanuma-kun said, "I don't know if - I don't think you'd know him. His name is Natsume. Natsume Takashi."

Though Saori had assumed she wouldn't know the boy's name either, it struck a chord. After a moment, she remembered. "Silver-haired, skinny and weak?" Though for a weakling, his punch had packed a surprising amount of strength.

She could see from their reactions – resigned and trying and failing not to be amused – that she was correct. "Huh. Natori must have been pulling out all the stops to protect him. No wonder."

"No wonder what?" Tanuma-kun asked.

"No wonder he kidnapped your friend's foster parents. Matoba has had his eyes on that friend of yours for at least a year." She smiled – bitter, maliciously amused. "I'm surprised he lasted this long. He must be very stubborn, your friend."

The two exchanged a look that said that that, from their perspective, was an understatement. Tanuma-kun's attention whipped back to Saori. "Wait – you know Natsume?"

She laughed. "We've met."

Almost, she was tempted to tell the truth – that she'd tried to take their friend's blood, that she'd almost been responsible for his death along with her own. (And how it burned, that Matoba had taken out even that powerful a youkai practically effortlessly.) Just to see what they'd try to do.

Because she felt certain they would try something, curious Taki-chan with her forgotten, forbidden circle and her cache of knowledge in which who knew what else was hiding (perhaps other forbidden things, perhaps nothing but a pile of random old wives' tales), and her wide-eyed desire to find out everything to do with this world. Tanuma-kun with his straightforward desire to learn what he needed to know, who would hesitantly, stubbornly work towards his goal until he either accomplished it or proved it to be impossible.

But she was better now. And if these kids hadn't been exposed to that side of the exorcist world yet. Well. Maybe it could wait a little bit longer.

"That's why you wanted to learn how to do hishi and soushi, isn't it?" she asked. "You're planning on trying to find your friend?"

Tanuma-kun met her gaze. Calm. Determined. "Yes."

"I know it's not fair of me, to leave the temple without someone who can see even as little as I can," he added, curling inward, reacting to a criticism she'd had no intention of giving; clearly so uncomfortable with his decision that he was trying to pretend to himself that he hadn't already made it. "But I thought, with the circles, and if at least one or two of the others was capable of sending a hishi to me so that in an emergency I'd know I needed to come back – even though I know it'd probably be too late –"

"One of the youkai asked me," Taki-chan interrupted suddenly, "and maybe you would know. Does my grandfather's circle remain connected to my …" she hesitated, searching for the right word, "to me, after I draw it?"

"I'd have to take a closer look at its construction, but probably not," Saori said. "Most spells don't – imagine how heavy it would get, after a while, carrying around the weight of every ongoing spell you'd ever done? Even wards are usually standalone, since the intention is generally to continue protecting the thing or area even after the original ward-setter is dead. There are always exceptions, of course." She shrugged. "Your circle could be different, but it looks like it's evolved from the same principles, so I would be surprised."

Taki-chan listened with her usual intent concentration, but Tanuma-kun looked like he was barely paying attention, in favor of peering closely at his friend. "Taki, you're not –"

"I'm coming," Taki-chan said flatly. She shot Saori a quick glance, as though apologizing for making her witness this scene, then turned the full force of her attention back to Tanuma-kun. "Don't you dare try to leave me behind."

"It'll be dangerous," he said. "As far as we know, we're pretty safe here, and you could help –"

"I'm tired of being left behind," Taki-chan said, words weighted like a punch to the gut. "I know I can't see, but Natsume's my friend, too, and I won't let you do what he always does to us. Maybe it's for my own good for me to stay, but I choose to go anyway. Don't – " her voice broke, and she turned her face away.

"Taki …" Tanuma-kun reached out, hesitated, lowered his hand. "I'm not. It's just." He hunched in on himself even further; said quietly, "I couldn't bear it if something happened to you, too."

"And you think I could?" Taki-chan whirled back towards him. "What if something did happen? Maybe I wouldn't be able to do anything, probably I wouldn't be able to do anything, but at least I wouldn't be stuck here, wondering why you'd both disappeared!"

Saori expected the boy to protest that he wouldn't disappear, that no matter what, he'd find his way back – but no, he was clearly too aware of the realities of the situation to try something like that on her. Or maybe he recognized that she would not sit back and smile and pretend she believed him.

They were such good kids.

"You mentioned you'd brought back more materials from your grandfather's storehouse?" Saori asked idly. She had to suppress a smile when both teenagers jumped, clearly having completely forgotten her continued presence.

"Yes," Taki-chan said. "It's nowhere near everything, of course, and we've only just started looking through it." She waved a hand. "Especially with the electricity now out, a lot of the adults are trying to figure out, well … life stuff. And there's the younger children to watch, and …" she trailed off.

"Do you think you could make room for one more here, for a few days longer?" Saori asked. "Who knows what other interesting things your grandfather might have found?"

"But – what about the people waiting for you, back home?" Tanuma-kun asked. Saori wondered what had taught him to be so afraid of being selfish.

She waved a hand. "There are other people there to keep an eye on things. It'll keep." She looked towards Kichou, still standing nearby, and wondered what he'd thought of the show. "You are welcome to return to the village, if you would prefer."

He shrugged lightly. "I believe I will abide here for a while longer as well."

Saori turned back to the kids and raised an enquiring eyebrow. Tanuma-kun looked like he wanted to ask 'Are you sure?', but in the end, he just said a heartfelt "Thank you."

She waved it off. "Don't worry about it. I'm sticking around for my own sake, after all."

Besides, she figured she owed that Natsume kid a favor. Might as well repay it now. And if he didn't like the form her repayment took, well, that was hardly her problem, was it?

#

# # # # #

#

I've been debating with myself for a while whether to even ask this question, but then I realized that the main reason I'd been hesitating is that I've got a bit too much pride wrapped up in making this whole process seem more effortless than it actually is. So.

The next chunk of story would work roughly as well, from my perspective, as either two longish chapters with a (meanish?) cliffhanger in between, or one very long chapter. Which would y'all prefer?

The catch (because of course there's a catch) is that either way, it's getting dangerously close to the end of my current rough draft buffer. If I divide into two chapters, I think the next six weeks should be long enough to let me build my buffer back up far enough that I can continue posting at my usual every-three-weeks rate. However, if I post it as a single chapter, there's a significant chance that I will miss the posting deadline for the following chapter.

So. Opinions?