Disclaimer: I DO NOT own Shman King. Hiroyuki Takei does. And unless by some miracle he gives it to me I never will own it. But I do own my orignal characters.
"Love is for the weak," those were the first words I can ever remember my mother saying to me. I was five and back then I actually loved my parents and I was foolish enough to believe that they loved me back. I quickly learned that love was something I would be denied all my life. Friendship was a form of love so I was not allowed to have friends either. Instead I had allies. An ally was someone whose company I enjoyed or thought I could benefit from. As I grew older I hardened myself and became immune to love but I always felt sort of empty like by cutting out love from my life I had cut out a piece of my soul. I convinced myself that it had nothing to do with love. I was always a shaman. I trained and lived for the shaman tournament. When it finally came I was about fifteen years old. I passed my entrance exam in record time and passed the first round easy. Finding my way to Dobe Village was a little harder but I did it. My first day there though was the beginning of a chain of events that would turn my life around.
I was just going for a short walk to get used to my new surroundings. I walked past a tacky looking fast food place when I bumped into someone.
"Watch where you're going!" he yelled getting to his feet. I took a look at him. He was sort of with dark hair styled up into a spike, and golden eyes. He wore a red sleeveless belly shirt and baggy black pants, and he spoke in a strong British accent. Over all he was cute not that I cared. I didn't get involved with boys.
"Why don't you watch it?" I countered angrily brushing myself off. This seemed to make him angry 'cause he pulled out a kwan dao and pointed it at me.
"Ohhhh scary," I said in mock terror.
"That's it!" he yelled lunging at me. I easily dodged and pulled out the two light twin swords I used for fighting.
"Katzi!" I called for my spirit ally. She's a minor fire goddess who takes the form of a huge red bird.
"Bason!" he yelled. I assumed that Bason was his ghost.
Before we could start fighting though man I recognized as an officiator came out and told us to stop or else we'd both be disqualified. I had no choice but to disengage my oversoul while unhappily muttering under my breath while my opponent did the same. I had no way of knowing that this boy could help me in a way I'd never imagined.