Chapter 7

Shin eyed his companions with an expression of well-tempered disgust. They had been seated in Nasté's study for nearly three hours discussing Jun's disappearance and his strange behavior over the last months, a conversation that had seemed to be on every ones' mind for a while but remained unaddressed. Nasté, who sat cradled against Ryo in an armchair while endlessly poking at the long angry bruise on her right cheek, had begun by explaining everything that she could remember from Jun's initial hallucination, to the time that he had come to her study, to what she had said to him before his abrupt departure. And while the troopers were certainly angry that she had withheld such important facts they directed none of their frustration at her. It had been two days since Jun had backhanded her and what started as a small cut had blossomed into a massive amorphous gray and brown splotch. Enough anger had been taken out on her already.

So it seemed then that the troopers were against each other. Every one of the five had a different theory for Jun's behavior, the manner of his departure, and why he had not so much as phoned since that day. Toma attributed the whole thing to stress, explained that Jun may have felt oppressed by Nasté's strict rules, and reasoned that his anger was a form of rebellion against it all. Seiji made it clear that he believed that Jun had relapsed into delinquency. Shu wondered, though somewhat passively, if it all revolved around a girl. And Ryo, ever focused on his role as a samurai trooper, believed that Jun was having some kind of difficulty coming to terms with bearing his unconventional armor.

Shin remained quiet through it all and watched as the others exploded into argument, attacking others' speculations without giving anything much thought. What struck him as more disturbing than their anger, however, was that each of them claimed to know Jun better, more personally perhaps, than any of the others. In truth, they were all familiar with a different aspect of the young man and it was clear to Shin that their rationales for his behavior were heavily influenced by their areas of expertise.

Jun never spoke to Toma about girls or to Ryo about school or to Shu about fighting, and he almost never spoke to Seiji outside of special occasions when the group was gathered at Nasté's. Shin was the only one to realize this, and concluded that it was why Jun almost always confided in him. It was not that Jun did not like or did not trust any of them with various nuggets of personal information; it was that he felt that each of the troopers had a strength and knowledge that the others did not.

It was a long while before anyone addressed Shin directly, but when Shu finally asked the torrent's opinion all eyes turned on him. It seemed to Shin that they all looked as if they had forgotten that he was even there and only now that they had been reminded would his input be tolerated. They watched him attentively, too attentively, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat on the floor.

"Well, I think that there is a lot of finger pointing and wild speculation going on here," Shin said smartly. "When the reality of it is that despite what we think we know about Jun and his motivation all we have to go on is his word, and as sad as it makes me to say it I think we all can agree that his word can be somewhat unreliable."

Silence hung in the room for a long while as each of the warrior stared. At length Toma, his brow furrowed contemplatively, leaned back in his chair and folded his arms behind his head. The collective expression was a mix of indignation and curiosity, which Shin attributed to the fact that he had, in as many words, told the lot of them that their ideas were wrong and that they should be quiet about things they could not prove with certainty.

"So," Shin continued meekly, feeling strangely uncomfortable with his company, "I suggest that we figure out what we do know, all of us, and draw our conclusions from those facts. We're not going to get anywhere if we keep going at each other's throats."

"Jun has a hero complex," Shu stated boldly, but fell quiet when Shin lowered his gaze dangerously at him.

"I don't think so," Shin said. "I would wager that he's less eager to put himself into a situation that requires heroism than any one of us."

"Shin is right," Toma said. "Jun would rather avoid confrontation if at all possible. And even if it comes down to it drawing weapons is a last resort."

"We know how he thinks," Shin continued, more confident in himself now that the conversation was moving forward, "especially when dealing with issues of imminent danger. Always he prioritizes others over himself, he worries about maintaining whatever image of himself he presents to the others, and only at the end of everything does he consider his own well-being. We've all seen that hierarchy in action on a number of occasions."

"He doesn't like to be helped, either," Shu added. "He would rather work on his own."

Ryo groaned his protest from across the room. "He asks for our help all the time."

"But only while working toward independence," Toma said in instant rebuttal. "He only asks for our help so that when the time comes he can fly solo. He wants to know what we know so that he doesn't need our help later. It's a method of isolation."

Again the room was quiet as the troopers contemplated Toma's conclusion. It was no secret that the last weeks had been full of humiliation and adolescent-like awkwardness for the young warrior and so they believed that he wanted to leave them behind to nurse his wounded pride. Furthermore, they had always considered Jun's seeking of advice and lessons to be an act of curiosity or maturation, not derived from the need to prepare for anything specific. They had never considered that his mood swings had been caused by anything but stress or that when he had run off he might be walking into a fight.

"He must have thought that we were in danger or that we would be if we stayed near him," Seiji said and everyone looked to him. He had been almost totally silent since the conversation had started, leaving the others to believe him to be too angry at Jun's behavior to think objectively about him. But Seiji seemed unfazed by the surprised reactions of his companions and continued with a tone of logic and pragmatism more characteristic of Toma.

"It makes sense," Seiji continued. "He pushed us away because he was worried that we might be hurt, some way or another. It fits Shin's pattern, anyway; he pushed us away and refused help in order to keep up his fairly feeble image of not giving a damn. Then, our well-being is put before his own, which is why he left us all here with no idea what's wrong, thus stalling us from following him and offering unwanted assistance. And finally, he's run off to god knows where to face whatever problems he is having without regard for how he might fare in the end."

It was Nasté that broke the next stretch of silence when she looked suddenly to Shin as though she had forgotten an important message. "You never told us what you thought it was," she said, and the statement seemed more like a command to speak than an invitation for his opinion.

But Shin shrugged all the same and reclined on his elbows. To him the answer was obvious; there was no other explanation for the events of the not-so-distant past even when Jun was not in the equation. The explosion at Tokyo Station and the disappearance of several hundred wounded civilians were enough proof for Shin, but when coupled with Jun's behavior, the behavior of someone who knew something important and dangerous, the evidence was overwhelming.

"Youja," Shin said simply, and the others exchanged dark looks.

They had all thought at one point or another that youja had been the cause of the explosion and, to a certain point, Jun's shift in personality, but they could not reconcile how or why the events could have occurred. There was no apparent reason for the youja to destroy Tokyo Station unless it was as a display of power, but in the past all such spectacles were exclusively paranormal in nature: appearances of large spectral towers, powerful localized storms, and electromagnetic interference. The only abnormal feature of the blast, besides the blast itself, was that a large number of people had gone missing, but even that was attributed to bodies being lost in the rubble or obliterated altogether.

And the issues with Jun could not be explained through existing knowledge of the youja either. There was no way for evil sorcerers to control or influence a mortal without the use of trinkets or amulets, as evidenced by Kayura during the invasion of Arago, and none of the troopers had observed such an item on Jun's person at any time. The only other logical explanations were deception or intimidation, both of which had been used with a degree of success against the troopers in their early days. But Jun seemed more self-confident and self-aware than any of them had at that time and so the idea that he could be deceived or intimidated bordered on irrationality.

When the telephone rang suddenly the troopers and Nasté jumped, jolted out of their dark thoughts by the loud noise. Nasté scrambled to her desk, throwing her arm over her computer, retrieved the handset, and spoke while still leaning double over the furniture.

"Hello?" She said. "He was supposed to be at work an hour ago, about that. Well, he's gone. I don't know where he's gone to, but he's gone, I haven't heard anything from him in days, I'm terrified but I'm not sure what to do. I don't want to report him to the authorities—"

"Who is that?" Ryo demanded, and Nasté waved her hand angrily at him.

"It's probably his professor," Toma said quietly. "He's always calling here to check in."

"Oh?" Nasté sounded quite surprised and slightly relieved. "When did that happen? Oh? I will see what I can do and get back to you as soon as I can. Yes, thank you."

Nasté slammed the receiver into its seat and whirled around on her heel to face the troopers. She bent low and gave each of them a fiery glance that confirmed their suspicions at once.

"Another student has gone missing."

Ϫ

Jun woke in a far more flattering position than he had ever thought possible; warm, unbound, and without pain, the latter of which was surprising considering the circumstances of his capture. He lay on a small though reasonably comfortable daybed in a well lit room that, while made of dark rock, seemed remarkably homey. He was covered by a black blanket and his head rested on a matching square pillow.

The room was full of items one might expect in a bedroom: bookshelves stuffed with enormous tomes in languages that Jun could not hope to read, a wooden desk topped with glassware and empty picture frames. At the foot of the daybed sat a squat, square table upon which had been placed an ancient loaf of bread, a circular thing that had shriveled and molded as if it had been there for years, and a goblet into which Jun did not dare look. At the head of the daybed was located a second, matching table, though it remained clear.

All of the furnishings, which were far too numerous for such a tiny space, were covered with a thick layer of dust and what little unoccupied space there was hung thick with cobwebs from floor to ceiling. It was as though the place had been designed by spirits who once knew mortal comforts but could no longer indulge, and everything that they desired and remembered was locked away in this single room.

Jun sat up slowly, as much in awe as in anticipation of pain, and clutched the blanket to his chest. Certainly the Arbiter of Souls had captured him because there was no other explanation for the room in which he sat. But still, the confrontation immediately prior to his capture was so absurd that Jun could scarcely believe that it had ever happened. First the spirit had demanded that Jun assume a role as commander, whatever that meant, and when Jun refused by way of fighting back he seemed to light Jun's armor on fire. It was as if the Arbiter had put Jun down humanely, if such a thing was possible, only to have him wake in this strange place with no apparent injury or discomfort.

If anything, Jun felt a pervasive dread, not as much a fear as a severe dislike for the inevitable future and his lack of control over any of it. He could not escape this place, not only because he could not say with certainty where he was but also because the Arbiter was guaranteed to be watching, and even if he could run away there was no place for him to go. He could not return home, not after he had hit Nasté so cruelly and run off with no explanation. The other troopers were certain to punish him more fiercely than the Arbiter could ever dream, and even in the unlikely event that they showed him mercy he was not sure that he would ever be able to forgive himself for his actions.

As his thoughts wandered so, too, did his gaze, until at last his eyes fell on a wooden door almost completely hidden in the shadow of two enormous bookshelves. In front of it stood an almost imperceptible figure, short and black and hanging like smoke in the air. Its face was featureless but somehow it seemed expectant or impatient, like a bellhop waiting for a tip, and as soon as it noticed Jun's attention it turned and glided through the door.

With a quiet swear Jun jumped from the bed and bolted after the thing, uncertain where it might lead him but knowing beyond a doubt that anywhere was better than the stuffy room he woke in. He opened the door and stepped into a long wooden hallway lined as far as the eye could see by doors similar to the one he had just left. To his left the place was empty, but to his right he could see the spirit's hazy figure floating into the distance.

He rushed after it, feeling only slightly perturbed that the two of them were the only beings in the hallway, and once he began to close the distance between himself and the spirit it seemed to turn, regarded him briefly, and continued on its way.

At the end of the long hall was staircase that stretched upward into what appeared to be open air before doubling back on itself and continuing on. The spirit stopped at the foot of the stairwell and turned about, facing Jun with the same posture that it had when it stood in the door, and motioned with a sweep of its incorporeal hand that he should ascend. And as soon as Jun placed his foot on the first step the thing disintegrated into a thin mist before disappearing altogether.

Another swear, and Jun began to climb. Ten steps along the wooden walls fell away and the staircase leveled off into a short landing that curled around to the left and rose again. Jun stopped here and stared out, struck dumb by the world splayed out before him.

There was no doubt that he was in the nether realm, its winding rivers and tall ancient structures stretched on for miles, the monotonous landscape broken only periodically by tall pagoda towers whose upper levels were lost in the thick orange clouds that slid through the sky. On the ground far below tiny figures could be seen rushing between buildings and ferrying on long white wooden boats along the waterways.

Had the circumstance been different he might have found the place comforting. It looked the same as it had when he had first come here years ago, except now it seemed docile and neutral. The pervasive evil that existed under Arago's rule was gone completely so that it seemed a comfortable place. Jun could imagine it as the space where spirits lived after their mortal bodies died. It was serene though certainly not heaven as he had ever imagined it.

After a while he turned and continued winding up the stairs. Each time the stairs wound back into the building they led into a long hall identical to the hall that he had entered from, and each time the stairs led outward a landing waited with an even more impressive and expansive view than the last. At last, however, he reached the final flight; a particularly long path that let out in the center of an enormous square wooden platform rimmed with a pillared, waist high bannister at which stood a dark cloaked figure that Jun recognized immediately.

The Arbiter of Souls was as humanlike a spirit as Jun had ever seen, tall and broad beneath his black robes. His face was blank and featureless except for his bright red eyes which glowed angrily like light through a black canvas. He stood ever at ease with his hands on the railing, peering out at the world below without acknowledging that Jun had appeared behind him.

Jun was glad for the inattention. His last encounter with this being had ended as poorly as any fight he had ever been part of when he was blasted off of his feet by an unexpected bolt of energy. Jun knew that this enemy did not need proximity to be lethal.

"I am glad that your received my summons," said the Arbiter cordially as he finally turned. "I had hoped that we could talk a bit more after your rude denial of my earlier offer."

Jun said nothing, as much because he did not know how to respond as because he was stunned by the spirit's boldness. Rather, he stood and watched as the Arbiter walked slowly around the perimeter of the platform with his right hand brushing lightly against the bannister.

"I have something that you might be interested in," the spirit continued as he walked, now striding along the back side of the room toward a small pedestal which bisected the bannister. Atop this pedestal sat a wooden box, closed for the moment, which the Arbiter lay his hands on and held gently. "But first, I must ask you a question."

"And if I refuse?"

The arbiter's eyes seemed to smile, almost benevolently. "Oh, I assure you that you will not refuse."

Jun quirked his eyebrow and the Arbiter opened the box.

"My yoroi ball!" Jun cried automatically and thrust his hand into his jeans pocket. He had never realized that it was missing, yet it glowed unmistakably on a black velvet pillow inches from the Arbiter's grasp.

"Yes, the yoroi ball," echoed the spirit coyly. "And now for my inquiry. Young man, do you understand how this armor functions?"

"Of course I do, what kind of stupid question is that?"

"Then you understand how tightly you are bound to the spirit that inhabits it."

The Arbiter's tone had shifted entirely and he now seemed to purr over the orb. He touched it gently and glanced up at Jun once, watched as the boy stood trying to mask his discomfort, and returned his gaze to the ball. Then, strangely, he pressed his index finger against its surface and held the position for a long moment, and when he withdrew his hand a black tendril-like wisp followed like a string wrapped around his hand. With a flick of his wrist the wisp flew a short distance away and dematerialized as though its very existence depended upon being connected to the extractor.

It was not until the Arbiter grasped the orb and lifted it up that Jun knew that he needed to act. He understood at once the spirit's intent; it had obsessed over possessing the armor a year ago and now, somehow, it was holding in its hand the key to bearing it as his own. But Jun could not bring himself to move. Even if he did strike the Arbiter could dispatch him easily with a searing energy bolt or, perhaps worse, could summon the shadow armor and use it against him. But the spirit did not summon the armor and instead, after gazing longingly at the kanji orb for a long while, lowered his eyes to Jun's.

"You see, boy, this armor was not made to be wielded by a mortal, I am certain that you were warned of this. Do you know why that is?" The Arbiter paused but Jun made no move to respond. "It is because mortals and spirits are almost entirely incompatible. In virtually no situation is the mortal strong enough to control the spirit in the armor, but if a spirit were to wield the armor instead the two could coexist and benefit mutually from its use. Spirits are generally stronger than humans, you see, and so it is an anomaly that you were able to control the armor for so long so successfully. I commend you on your strength of spirit."

"Weekly drum circles," Jun quipped and regretted it at once.

"Yes, and you remain witty as always," the Arbiter said and sounded incredibly pleased. "I do hope you keep your bite once we are finished here."

At once the Arbiter thrust the orb forward and as the armor began its telltale summon he laughed maniacally, and Jun's blood ran cold. The armor settled on the spirit's body and looked far more impressive and far more sinister than Jun had ever believed possible. Every curve and plate accented some enormous muscle and the glaives, which seemed to have grown to accommodate the Arbiter's stature, loomed so large that they cast a shadow halfway across the room.

Jun's eyes were wide and he scarcely registered that his knees were shaking, though outwardly he stood firm and tall against the imposing figure. He did not know what might happen now that he was no longer in control of the armor and he did not understand what the Arbiter meant by his explanation minutes prior. But the idea that he was bound to it rolled over in his head like a record skipping.

He was bound to the armor by virtue and despite the fact that he was no longer wielding the armor he was still inextricably connected to it. And now the Arbiter was as well.

"You will kneel when in my presence," the Arbiter cooed.

Jun struggled to maintain his footing. His body felt suddenly heavy and an inexplicable desire to drop to his knees overwhelmed him. But he stayed put, staring at the armored spirit as the truth of his dilemma struck home.

"On your knees, whelp!" roared the Arbiter.

Jun fell to a knee and stared at the ground. He understood now what had happened moments prior: the Arbiter had removed the spirit from his armor, had destroyed it completely, and assumed the role for himself. Now he was as much a part of the armor as Jun.

The young warrior could not help but recall his last bout with Seiji and Ryo when he lost focus, when for a brief moment he could not differentiate between himself and the spirit in the armor, and that moment became terrifying. The spirit had been the dominant force in that encounter, Jun had felt its blows and reacted to the danger that it was in without thinking. He had been controlled. And now the Arbiter, a far more powerful force, was in the armor with him.

Jun understood then that he was the shadow of the armor.