Wanderer

By: Aviantei

[Twelve Shots of Summer: Another D8 1/12]

[Parameters: "Invisible" + "Testing Bonds"]

There was not a name for their group, not one that members used at any rate. There was no need for such a thing, not when they all already had a strong sense of identity together, one they could also sense in their very bones.

Though they did not have a collective name, they did have a couple of important things in common. Not things like blood, homeland, or personality, no. Instead, they all had an ability, one that let them sense the bonds between people—and that ability meant that when members encountered each other, it was an undoubtable resonance that connected them. The ability to understand the bonds between people—and also what they referred to most often as the soul of the wanderer.

It was this second one that had inspired Aishe to leave her home. She had always enjoyed traveling, in the small trips that her parents could afford. She'd spent time, flipping through books with pictures of far-off countries, and those images would follow her into her dreams, where she could imagine herself exploring every corner that they had to offer. And so, at the age of seventeen, she had packed up her essentials, not feeling all that attached to much of her possessions anyways, and set off.

The practical part of her mind wondered if she was too enthusiastic, entertained the possibility that she'd give in a few weeks later and crawl back home, craving the life she'd lived there. It never happened. With each passing day, she traveled farther and farther away, until the time on the road became months, until she'd no longer simply traveled to another city, but across borders of countries, each culture and language bringing its own form of excitement.

She'd been in Turkey when she'd noticed it—the vibration in her soul that she'd very rarely seen before. Her parents had had a similar thread between them, one that Aishe had not been connected to. Even her friends, that she'd gotten along with, hadn't ever given her this sense of belonging. But one afternoon Aishe sensed it, the connection so strong that she dropped the half-eaten cup of watermelon she'd bought off a street vendor and ran, trying to follow the sensation before it disappeared and left her with nothing else to cling to again.

And when she rounded that corner, saw that group of people with all their mixed appearances, looking very little alike but undoubtedly a group, Aishe knew, even though she'd thought she was dreaming, and there was no need for words, not between any of them, because Aishe understood that this was where she belonged.

Aishe was, in the first few weeks among the group, hesitant. Though she was now twenty, with no regrets for the past three years of traveling, she still couldn't help but worry that maybe this was a mistake. Globe trotting with limited resources for the rest of her life, fine. But sticking with a group for a while? That trace of logical thought (which, Aishe realized, was a reflection of her father's voice, the bond between them weak but still there, a tiny thread stretching back to the other side of the continent) warned that this might not be a good idea.

But, just like with her initial travels, that concern faded away. Their group was from all over the world—from Italy, from Australia, from Puerto Rico, and more—and yet they all communicated well. Even if their viewpoints on other matters differed, they all understood the desire to never stay in one place, not for restlessness, but because they enjoyed seeing the world in all its different faces, be that the culture or the nature itself.

As Aishe started to feel more comfortable in her new group, she learned of something else:

Shamans.

She'd known of them before. All those years with her young nose stuck in a book, studying the world had allowed her to encounter the concept. Many cultures had them: these people who communicated with spirits, the bridge between the living and the dead. Except they weren't just stories, weren't just precursors to a scientific understanding of the world.

Shamans had real power. Ghosts and nature spirits were real. And, often, those who had the soul of the wanderer, those who could sense the bonds between others often had this ability.

For Aishe, she'd never experienced such a thing. But, by listening to the others, by trying things out, she started to get it. First enough of a sixth sense to see ghosts, then enough ability to interact with them. She was not someone of great talent, but she'd learned the ability, and soon she could specialize. Healing through the use of her own spiritual power was the best she could accomplish, small in comparison to those among their group who could partner with spirits to form Over Souls into weapons and spectacles, but Aishe didn't mind. She could use her abilities to help her group of friends and companions, and she got to enjoy the travel that still exhilarated her. The nomadic lifestyle was where she felt most at home, and there was no possible regret to be found.

The bonds between people that Aishe and the others could sense were difficult to describe to an outsider. They were not visible, and often they went unnoticed, even by those who could sense them. A string was close, but not quite. After all, bonds were a nebulous thing, never quite solid, and rarely ever taught, no matter the distance between people. If anything, Aishe would say bonds felt similar to the sensation of touching a spirit—solid yet not quite solid, ephemeral and yet powerful.

Of course, each and every relationship was different, but Aishe found she had an intuitive understanding of what these bonds were like if she just reached out for them. Of course, there was a difference between a surface level look and an in-depth one, but that didn't matter much. Even at a glance, it was possible to tell when relationships were important and could grow even stronger in time.

And when relationships could grow weaker.

That was a natural part of human connection that bonds could come to an end. Some would snap in moments of anger and betrayal. Others would amicably slip away, with an understanding of the people involved. And others yet would vanish over time, as people drifted apart. Those bonds would thin out at first before fading altogether.

And one day, Aishe realized that the bond that persisted between her and her parents for all these years had at last disappeared.

[Author's Notes]

Hello, and welcome to another year of the [Twelve Shots of Summer] challenge. This time, since my Shaman King fic Aviantei is at long last coming to an end, I wanted to take the chance to write some bonus one shots for it. The prompts got me thinking about Ivy and Ander's biological mother, so I ended up writing some backstory drabble. This was originally supposed to go all the way up to her meeting Shui and deciding to stay with/marry him, but the ending felt like it fit the prompts better, so I went that direction. Being someone with the soul of the wanderer is a tricky thing, and not all bonds survive the test.

I don't have much planned for this aside from seeing where the prompts take me, but I do hope to explore different characters and scenarios that didn't fit into the main Avi narrative, so here we are. I hope you enjoy. And if this has by any chance made you interested in the main story, I'd be honored if you go and read it as well.

I also encourage you to check out the rest of the [Twelve Shots of Summer] community, as there are some cool folks and cool stories going on there - and I'm sure even more will arrive over the summer!

See you next week for the prompts "Scrambled Crossing" and "Death of Innocence"!

-Avi

[06.05.2021]