1998

Tori's Mother was always on the edge of a heart attack. Not because she had any kind of physical problem, but instead she had a problem child. It all started around age one. Tori would watch things no one else seemed able to see. She had nightmares, and would babble on endlessly to empty air. What could a mother do? When she pointed out the strange tics to her husband, he packed them up and took them to his grandmother's house for a visit.

There, Tori's Mother and Father learned about their family history. It had scared Tori's mother badly, but she loved her husband and their daughter, so she decided that she'd do her best to make Tori into a normal girl. A lot of playdates and socialization. That was what all the parenting books said. When Tori turned three, she took her to music lessons every Wednesday to learn the piano. Every Thursday was dance class. Tori liked that, and her athleticism gained her another activity: swimming.

All of this did not make Tori unable to see the spirits that Great-Grandmother had described, but did teach the girl about dedication, and how other people acted. Namely, like nothing else but real, solid, breathing people were there. When Tori got old enough to understand that her parents didn't like it when they saw her interact with a spirit, and that her friends simply could not see them, she internalized it. Tried to pretend that they weren't real at all.

Tori's Mother still worried, and every time Tori went out to play in the woods that were part of their property she felt faint with fear. Fear of a thing that she could not see or understand. A thing that she knew was out there, waiting to hurt her daughter. And that was now.

I ran through the woods. More than anything I loved being out here, the air was cool on my skin as I laughed and danced around spirits that I'd learned to ignore. I loved being in school and learning about ancient times. How places like mountains and forests were rife with old gods and monsters.

I looked for them, but so far only the small spirits that I'd spent the last years trying to cut out of my life graced my forest. I followed a set of deer tracks, hoping to find them. A colony of mushrooms drew my attention, and I spent time trying to tell if they were good to eat or not.

The fallen log they jutted around held more discoveries. Big, black beetles that scurried on important business. A curious mouse, peeping at me from a spot it must have thought was safe. A couple of very long, shiny raven feathers that I started to gather led me in a new direction.

I picked the feathers up, and started to feel concerned. There were a lot of feathers, and I knew that if a bird had lost this many it was in trouble. It could be dead, and I did not like that at all. Maybe it was injured. If so, I had to find it before I could run home for help. With uncharacteristic single-mindedness, I followed the trail.

When I saw the man laying in a heap of the same feathers I'd been collecting I stopped dead. He was dressed very strangely; red, green, and white cloth worn in a way I'd only seen in picture books. Carefully, I crept closer and received another shock, he had the longest nose I've ever seen.

There were scrapes and cuts on all of the skin I could see, but it didn't look like he should be dead. I dropped to my hands and knees, crawling closer to the strange man. When he groaned I scrambled up to him.

"Mister? Are you okay?"

The long-nosed man moaned, "What dost thou mean?"

My brow scrunched as I tried to puzzle out what he asked. "Are you hurt?"

"Child, thou speak a strange dialect." He coughed, trying to sit, but his wings were crackling with broken bones and the pained hiss he uttered spoke for itself. "Thou ask if I am injured? Gravely."

"I'll get my mom." I sprang up, ready to run back to the house.

"No. No one else may know of me. Let me die."

I knelt next to him, "No!" I could feel my eyes bead with tears, "If it's because you're a spirit, then it's okay. Dad has a hunting shack, there's bandages and medicine. Water." I chewed my lip, begging with my eyes, "I can help! Please don't die, mister!"

"My name is Rio, child."

I wiped tears off with one grubby fist, "My name is Tori. I'll be right back."

I tore off in the direction of Father's hunting shack. We'd often stay out all night to wake up bright and early to hunt birds for holidays and special family dinners. Once I'd hurt myself trying to run from a creepy spirit during a hunting trip, ripping a hole in my jeans and earning a slice across my knee. Dad had taken me back to the shack telling me that this was nothing to tell mom. He'd taught me a little about how to clean and bandage a wound. Enough to ignite a desire to be a healer.

The door opened with a shove and a loud squeal of rusty hinges. I would have to tell dad. I shook myself hard, and retrained my concentration. Bandages, alcohol and hydrogen peroxide. Dad's miracle elixir, although I was sure that it was just a different kind of alcohol. I added it to the pile just in case. I quickly went to the stash of water bottles and tossed three bottles on the heap. Lastly, I put a box of crunchy granola bars on top. A quick search netted me an old bag in which I stuffed the supplies.

I hefted the bulging sack, finally using both arms to sling it to my shoulder. I followed my tracks back to the injured man, my heart thumping all the way. I found him pretty much as I had left him: still crumpled on his feathers. Except he was watching me come close with bright, clever, brown eyes.

"Needst thou help, child?"

I gave him a brief frown. I am stronger than I look, "You talk funny, Mister."

He laughed quietly at this, "Tori. I wilst nay make that mistake again if thou wilst call me Rio."

I quietly set to cleaning his scrapes, pouring alcohol on a small wad of bandages, "This will hurt, Rio." My hands were shaking, but I started to wipe the cuts on his arms.

Rio growled at the first press of the cold liquid that made his injuries burn like fire. "What foul brew, this?" He gasped as I found a particularly deep gash, "Shit!"

"Don't say those words!" I winced, remembering the cool burn of alcohol. "I know it stings, though. I'm sorry."

Rio

I put up with her ministrations, wishing that my store of energy wasn't just enough to be alive. The King had been exceedingly thorough with my punishment. I didn't have enough juice to even straighten one of my broken distal phalanx, the smallest bones in my wings. Not only that, but I had the terrible thought that nothing this sweet child was doing to heal me would have any real effect.

"Are those wings? Are you a bird?"

I'd been lost in my thoughts so long that her voice made me jump. My arms and the skin on my legs that the girl could reach were clean and bandaged where the knives had run deep. "They art wings. I am a Tengu from the Togakushi Tribe. "

Tori pressed a flyaway lock of ruby-red hair behind her ear, "Togakushi? That's pretty far away."

"Aye. Mine King has power thou wouldst not comprehend. This is merely whither I did land." I studied her. She was not yet ten years, I figured, but my experience with children was small indeed. Her hair and dark brown -nearly jet- eyes reminded me of my earliest memories working with humans and helping to exterminate cursed spirits. As a spirit-being, I did not consider myself a cursed spirit, though I knew other tribes much more suited to the moniker. Our tribe had worked with the men and women who fought to rid the land of true evil.

"Tori, wilt thou take mine hand?" I held out a long fingered hand, and Tori grabbed it in both of hers. This girl was so willing to help me. She was different from other humans, and I understood that difference immediately. I cautiously felt her potential before I released her with a small smile. "If 't be true thou couldst hast a boon for helping me, what would thee wish?"

"A…" Tori looked confused, "What do I want to be? I want to be a doctor! I want to heal the sick and maybe animals on weekends."

I searched her earnest face, now smiling at the thought of becoming a healer. A wish I could indeed grant. I could teach her to be a warrior, but living inside her, as I was about to propose, would make that dangerous. But healing, I only had to handle the multiplication. I could do that. Even in my sleep, should she wish for it.

The days of Warrior Monks and Sorcerers making pacts to fight or for other gains were long past. More than a generation, even for my kind. But this child, this female, would be strong one day. She had strength in both her soul and body. And she would grow. She would be a young woman, able to make choices for herself. To fall in love, maybe even to allow me to continue my line as well. At the very least, I could heal fully as a part of her.

"Thank thou, Tori, for all that thou hast done, but I do not heal as thou dost." I stroked fingers over my wings, still a mangled mass of bone, feathers, and skin. "Were I able to heal myself as I wouldst, it wouldst be done already. Inside of thou, whither I couldst use thine energy, I couldst heal completely. Wouldst thou make a pact with me? I couldst make thou the greatest healer of thine time. Thou couldst speak to me while I slumber in thine heart. I wilt learn thine ways, and thou shalt learn mine."

She blinked, "Would it hurt?" Her voice was small and her eyes went round, "Would you live?"

"Thou wouldst not feel the loss, dear one." I reached for her again, and she grasped a couple of my fingers. "If thou art willing to allow me to heal as a part of thine heart," I began to lay out the pact, feeling the magic rise between us. "I whilst teach thou the healing arts, and provide for thou, should thine strength fall. In return thou shalt take my vow of marriage seriously when I make it known."

"Marriage?" She giggled, her cheeks blushing, "I will take you seriously, Rio. I promise." The magic tightened around us and it felt as warm and joyous to me as the return of a lover. Tori's lips drew down in the brief flare of its embrace. As quickly as it raised it was gone.

"What now?"

I reached up, pushing my hair out of the way, revealing a soft line of puffy down feathers that disappeared into the neck of my kimono. I plucked one with a tiny wince. "Take mine feather. If 't be true thou wish to honor mine pact, thou must ingest it."

"I?" She took the feather from my hand, "I do what?"

I mimed eating it, and she made a face, "Oh. Gross!" She studied me again, I could see that she was not fully convinced, "You promise that you'll get better?"

"It wilst take time, dear heart. But, yes." I waved my hand toward the darkening sky, "Leave, think on it. I wilst not die for some time yet, mine thanks to thee."

Tori stood, and clutched the feather to her chest, "I'll go right home. Good night, Rio."

Tori

I fled back to my home on the edge of these wonderful woods. Mother chastised me for being out so late, and getting so dirty. Father ruffled my hair, and I told him about the shack's sticky door. In a burst of cooperativeness, I washed up and sat for dinner, the feather still in my pocket.

I still could almost feel it in there as I ate my curry rice. Even when I got up after the meal and helped Mom with the dinner dishes. I thought about what Rio had said, that I was supposed to be sure about the deal he'd made with me. More than anything I wanted to help people who were hurt. If that meant Rio would be my friend too, living in my heart, getting better, then…

"Mom, can I have a chocolate banana smoothie?"

Mom smiled down on me, "Sure, sweetie. Run and get ready for bed. Then we can watch tv for a little bit while you drink it, okay?"

I ran upstairs and got ready for bed. Afterward, I sat on the couch and held the tall glass in my hands. When Mom went to go find the remote, I pushed the feather into the drink, and started to suck. Before long, I felt the odd lump cross my tongue and disappear. Minutes later I felt a happiness that had nothing to do with my favorite anime.

AN/ Six is a great age; avid curiosity and the beginnings of wanting to be independent. Rio lived on a mountaintop with extremely limited contact with humans. He speaks what is known as Classical Japanese. But his way of speaking changes after this, so, if you hate it, no worries. Honestly, I love learning about language, which is probably what made me want to start writing.

A thank you to my friend Mosevic, who, like my interest in etymology, makes me wanna write for you.