"I could."
Gained Honest D (Plus) (Plus)
"I mean, I haven't actually done it," you add, trying not to sound nervous. "And Fire Elementalism isn't my best skill, even if it's not all that far behind my Divination and Summoning magic, so I doubt I could get the spell off as fast or with as much effect as the Hawaiian guy did. But yeah, Dad; if I put enough time and effort into it, I could create a ball of fire big enough to take out that hotel suite."
Actually, given the blast radius of a standard Spell of Fireball, you could probably take out most of the house in one shot. It'd depend on how much power you packed into the burst, and how well the walls and the rest of the interior structure held up against the heat... but that's something you feel shouldn't be brought up in this particular conversation. Honesty has its limits.
Your admission clearly unsettles your father, but at the same time...
"I appreciate you being honest with me about this, Alex."
Gained King of Men C
Gained Threat E (Plus) (Plus)
"But, uh... let's not tell your Mom you could blow up the house if you wanted to, alright?"
"Yeah, that's probably a good idea."
"She worries," your father explains to Lu-sensei, slightly defensively. "Even when she doesn't need to, and... more so when she should."
"I have met the type," Lu-sensei replies.
"So, son, you mentioned that, uh, 'fire magic' isn't your best skill?"
Given an acceptable out, you take it, shifting the conversation back to magic. Earlier today, your father was firing ideas off at random and leaving you to answer if you could carry them out; this time around, you decide to provide a more organized and detailed breakdown of your approach to magic, focusing on the general uses of each school in turn, with a couple of examples of non-destructive applications.
You want to lead the conversation away from explosions and other forms of raw destruction, so Elementalism - which is about half attack spells, or spells that can wreak havoc as a side-effect of their actual purpose - is probably not the best topic for you to go with. You're tempted to discuss Abjuration, for the reassuring factor of protection magic, and Conjuration is even more appealing a subject, mainly because of how it empowers most healing spells. However, you're a bit reluctant to get into the other side of such magic, which involves killing things - tiny things, to be sure, but even the simplest wound-treatment spells usually incorporate some antiseptic properties, for the simple reason that you never know where an enemy's claws or sword have been.
It's far too easy to see what such Necromantic power could be used for if you simply scaled it up a few times, and your Dad is not a dummy.
Of the remaining schools, Illusion is entirely too dishonest to be a comfortable subject, you've already narrowly avoided getting into trouble for using Enchantment on people to keep them from commenting about Moblin going to school with you, and Summoning is kind of how you got into this situation in the first place, even if Beryl was the one who sent the imp that your father saw. You have barely any skill at Item Crafting, which is a shame, because it's one of the schools you think your Dad, the mechanic, would really be able to get to terms with - and while Transformation is another one that could appeal to your father for its uses in improving or customizing tools and machinery, it's also the home of many spells that warp living flesh in creepy ways. That leaves Augmentation, non-healing-related Conjuration, and Divination on the table.
You decide to start with Divination. It's one of your best skills overall, and has probably contributed more to your growth than any of the others by giving you so many ways to learn new things. As for the two remaining schools, Augmentation honestly feels like the better follow-up subject. Like Transformation, it's a form of sorcery that should appeal to your father for its sheer practical applications, and while it too can be used on living beings as easily as constructed devices, it doesn't have the "ick" factor of turning people into toads or the like. Not unless you really mess up the spells, anyway.
Talking about Divination goes well. As the school of magic primarily concerned with acquiring, disseminating, and when necessary concealing information, it's naturally one of the easiest forms of magic for the untrained mind to understand. A guy like your Dad who's never seriously believed in magic can still grasp the notion of enhanced senses without trouble, and once you've accepted the existence of sorcery, it's no stretch of the imagination to think that spellcasters would have their own equivalents for the analytical tools that mechanics, doctors, and other normal folks use in their respective lines of work.
That said, your father does have some trouble with the notion that you can just pull information out of thin air, as with the Spell of Identification and its ability to determine a magical or technological item's correct workings. Explaining auras, psychic imprints, and the collective unconscious doesn't seem to make things any clearer to him, despite Lu-sensei's aid.
Gained Teaching D
Your subsequent talk about Augmentation goes a bit less well. It's not that your father doesn't get the basic idea of using magic to strengthen and empower - or alternately, weaken and disrupt - existing items, it's just that he has trouble wrapping his brain around your chosen examples, the Spell of Feather Fall and the Spell of Jumping. They're both mainstays of the school, simple and with direct (albeit limited) applications, but the notion that you can just turn down gravity when you need to is clearly giving your father a headache.
It's a good thing, then, that Zelda comes back inside when she does, and lets you know that the first batch of burgers are up.
Given that you have Lu-sensei over, you give serious thought to talking about martial arts over lunch. However, as you assemble your preferred burger - cheddar and mozza slices, ketchup, and a leaf of (blech!) lettuce, at your mother's insistence - with a side order of crinkle-cut potato chips - fresh as of three days ago! - you decide instead to catch your mother up on the discussion you were having with your Dad about what you can do with your magic.
It's a good decision, since you've just sat down at the kitchen table and taken your first bite of the completed burger when your mother comes in with a second plate of grilled patties and asks, "So what did you boys talk about?"
"Dad asked why you were only finding out about the supernatural stuff now," you reply, before either of the older men can speak up, "and when there wasn't any shouting or hard feelings about that, we discussed my magic a bit more."
"Oh?"
You proceed to recount, in brief, the discussion between your father and your teacher, before moving on to what you told your father about Divination and Augmentation magic - and conveniently leaving out the bit about Arrogante, its master, and your ability to level small buildings if you really wanted to.
Your Mom's reactions make for an interesting contrast with your Dad's. Where he accepted Lu-sensei's quite reasonable-sounding explanation with only one or two grumbled complaints, your mother is visibly unimpressed by your master's decision to delay telling your folks about your abilities. She makes a few remarks to the tune of, "Well, really," "I never," and "Of all the reckless," as if building up to something more significant, but your Dad intercedes each time, breaking her momentum before she can really get going.
Lu-sensei looks quietly grateful to your father each time. You can understand why; you don't like it when you get a Talking To from your mother, either.
After giving your mother a few minutes to calm down and eat most of a burger, you start going over the magic part of your prior discussion. Again, her responses are different from your Dad's, as she has no trouble at all with the idea of Divination in general or the spells you single out for explanation, and merely frowns thoughtfully at your description of Augmentation.
Between eating most of two burgers and a generous helping of chips and downing two glasses of lemonade - the crystal drink mix variety, unfortunately, not the really good stuff - it takes you most of the meal to finish talking. Zelda, who only ate one small burger, and that in sliced-up pieces, yawns drowsily and is carried up to her room by Dad for a nap, while Lu-sensei manages to convince your mother to let him assist with the cleanup.
This leaves you to consider what you're going to talk about next.
There isn't too much Lu-sensei can say about magic that you couldn't say for yourself. Sure, he has more life experience to draw upon, more stories to tell about actual encounters with practitioners and their works, but from your own interactions with the man, you know that he simply doesn't grasp the theory behind most magic - and more to the point, doesn't care to. It's simply not his thing.
Martial arts, on the other hand, very much IS Lu-sensei's thing, and since you've gone to the trouble of inviting him over, you figure you might as well make the most of his presence and expertise by asking him to help explain the martial side of things for your parents.
The way the old man's eyes gleam as he smiles at your request makes you think you may have chosen the wrong topic.
And when the Enlightenment Stick somehow appears in his hand from the place where it was left in the hall, you KNOW you've chosen poorly.
It turns out that Lu-sensei is perfectly happy to talk with your folks about the martial arts and how they fit into the world, both the "real" and the "hidden" sides of it. He does so with live visual aids - namely, you, demonstrating various skills and techniques you've learned over the course of the last two years while Lu-sensei talks with your folks. Every few sentences, he'll call out a different form, and due to your training - and the lurking threat of the Stick - you reflexively fall into the new pattern as quickly and cleanly as possible.
Gained Hand-to-Hand (Five Elements Style) E
While you're thus occupied, you can hear Lu-sensei talking to your parents about how, in the world they're most familiar with, martial arts is mostly about personal health and fitness, with that element of preparedness in case danger ever presents itself. And it's not just about thwarting human hostility, either; if a fire breaks out or an earthquake hits, or even if a large dog slips its leash and runs around attacking people, someone with the physical and mental training of a martial artist is simply that much more likely to come out of the incident in one piece than Average Joe.
"Not that we can punch out earthquakes," Lu-sensei admits with a wry tone. "But outrunning one's effects is entirely doable. And when it comes to fire-" He stops and makes a sudden, swift palm-strike towards the tree in your backyard. The branches whip around violently, loose leaves and small twigs flying away. "-we have other options," Lu-sensei says, lowering his hand.
You didn't quite see what Lu-sensei was doing there, but you can make a pretty good guess.
Gained Wind Palm F
While you're pondering this newest skill, a second wave of ki-charged displaced air slams into your legs, sweeping them out from under you and dumping you on the grass.
"You need to work on your situational awareness and your balance!" Lu-sensei barks. "Fifth Form, now!"
"Yes, Lu-sensei!"
Through the noise of your hasty scramble to get to your feet and into the stated form, you dimly hear your father mention something about drill sergeants.
Lu-sensei chuckles. "The foundations of discipline are much the same the world over, neh?"
Your father laughs as well, but briefly. "So if that's martial arts in our world," he says after a moment, "what about the 'other' world? What's its place there?"
"Fighting," Lu-sensei admits without any attempt at deception. "Or at least, being prepared to fight, and letting others know that you are prepared should they threaten you. In the Moonlit World, if you appear to be an easy target, you WILL be attacked. If you appear to be a hard target... well, you MAY be attacked, but the common, lower-order predators will generally leave you be, rather than risk their own well-being. And the higher predators are not so quick to strike as their inferiors; they have too much to lose, too many rivals who will take advantage if they overextend themselves in dealing with an unknown."
"'Generally'," your father repeats. "But not always?"
"There are exceptions to every rule. And it's when you meet such a being that knowing how to fight becomes an essential survival skill."
"Beings like some of those... kids on the tape."
Oh, boy. You're not sure if you like where this is going.
Although a part of you wants to speak up on behalf of the kids you met at the tournament - even most of the ones you didn't specifically make friends with - you find yourself unwilling to face the wrath of the Enlightenment Stick for breaking off a performance-slash-test without permission.
Lu-sensei has trained you well.
Gained Young King D (Plus)
"Yes and no," Lu-sensei says in response to your father's statement. "Those who are invited to the World Tournament are expected to maintain certain standards of behavior. It's always a bit of a gamble with the first-timers, whatever their age and origins, but I could see most of the children that participated in Alex's division this year being asked to come back for the next tournament."
"What, even those two boys who tried to keep fighting after the match was called?" your mother bursts out in disbelief.
"No, not those two," Lu-sensei admits. "They showed themselves unwilling or unable to obey the rules, so they'll be denied the right to participate in the next tournament. They might be allowed to compete eight years from now, but that depends on whether or not they clean up their acts and find someone willing to vouch for them who's in good standing with the officials." He shrugs. "There are a few cases like that every time, as many of them human as not."
"And the guys who bombed the place and started the riot?" your father asks. "What's their punishment going to be, aside from whatever the law says?"
"Banned for life," Lu-sensei says flatly. "And in the martial arts community, that's a grave stain on one's reputation. Schools associated with the World Tournament will not accept such people as students or teachers, and will revoke their membership if they already had it. If they lead or try to establish a school of their own, it will be shunned. No national-level tournament will permit them to enter, nor will any of the regional-level competitions in Japan. In short, they've given up any way to earn an honest living through the martial arts - and if they turn to crime again, and then dare to show their faces at the tournament, the in-house security personnel will apprehend them and hand them over to the authorities to face justice."
Your father frowns. "No offense, but that doesn't seem like it'd stop some people. Or things."
"True enough, but that's the limit of what the tournament masters can do. Well, that, and letting it be generally known that a given troublemaker is no longer welcome at the tournament, and accordingly, not under their protection should he or she decide to show up anyway."
"...which would make them an easy target," your Dad murmurs.
Lu-sensei nods gravely.
Your father seems to grudgingly accept this - your Mom, not so much. That worries you, and you kind of want to say something to reassure her, if not both your folks. It also occurs to you that Lu-sensei hasn't given you a new command throughout all of this, and none of the adults have really been watching you since the conversation got so involved. You might be able to stop your little demonstration without having to face the wrath of the Stick.
Although you are wary of the Stick, you are not so cowed by its mere presence that you cannot speak up when you see that one of your parents is less-than-happy about the direction of the current discussion. If speaking out of turn means you get ENLIGHTENED, well, so be it.
You do, however, make a point of not letting your demonstration of form waver. No sense inviting trouble.
Gained Farore's Favor E (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Nayru's Favor E (Plus)
"It's really not that far out there, is it?" you ask, trying to time your words so that your breathing doesn't falter.
The adults turn to look at you.
"I mean, people who won't follow the rules get kicked out of normal sports leagues, right, Dad?"
"They do," he replies. "But that doesn't usually result in them getting attacked by the other participants."
"Well, no, but how many other sports are there that let the players use actual weapons? We didn't get that far in the tapes yet, but the Adult Division's allowed to use live blades." Which isn't even getting into the damage a ki master or powerful magic-user could cause if they cut loose, you carefully don't say aloud. "Sure, there are rules against attacking people outside the ring, but if there's someone that doesn't care about the rules, who's been told he isn't welcome and then shows up anyway, don't the guys running the show have a responsibility to do what they can to keep their guests safe from him?"
Your father nods wordlessly. Rather surprisingly, your mother does as well, after a moment of hesitation.
"And it's not like martial artists have a monopoly on loonies," you continue. "Most of the people I met at the tournament were nice folks who just happened to be good at fighting. I made friends, Cordy made friends - heck, Briar made friends. There were just... you know... a few bad apples."
"Like the guys who bombed the arena and the hotel," your father mutters.
You try not to twitch as Lu-sensei glances at you. You're completely in the clear about the mess at the arena. The hotel, on the other hand...
"Yes, like those guys," you reply, managing not to stutter or twitch even with Lu-sensei's attention on you. The damage to the hotel room really was Beryl's fault - well, mostly her fault - and anyway, you just got through with promising your Dad that you weren't going to let on to your Mom how destructive your magic can be. You can't very well turn around and break a promise like that, can you? No, of course you can't.
Gained Cool D (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Lu-sensei frowns, but says nothing.
"What exactly happened there, anyway?" your mother asks then, looking around at the lot of you. "I still haven't gotten the full story out of you boys, just that there was a bombing and a riot."
"That's partly because I'm still waiting to hear from the government about how the investigation went," Tony replies with a scowl. "From what the suits at the embassy said, it looked like a murder-kidnapping attempt. The chief suspect was some kind of mercenary, and the targets were apparently members of his family, so they weren't sure if this was a personal grudge, or if the guy just didn't care who he'd been hired to go after."
Your mother blanches. "That's horrible!"
"Yeah, but at least he missed," your father continues. "The family got away somehow, and the local cops had about thirty guys in lock-up on charges ranging from disturbing the peace to assault with a deadly weapon. They were still looking for the big kahuna, but it was up in the air whether they'd find him or not; it seems that he's got a history of pulling off crimes and then just disappearing afterwards."
This is the first time you've heard the official line on the incident, and it's remarkable for how accurate it is, despite leaving out all mention of ninja. You wonder if you should put your own two cents' worth in, or just let your parents talk.
You decide not to add anything further on the topic at hand. It involves ninja, some of whom you're currently on good terms with - a status you'd like to KEEP, if at all possible - and it's a family matter besides. You're given to understand that even normal people usually don't like talking about family matters, let alone having them talked about behind their backs, and this particular matter is of a pretty severe nature, which isn't likely to make it any more tolerable as a topic of conversation.
Besides, if your parents found out abotu the true extent of your involvement in the incident, it'd probably give them grey hairs (or heart attacks). Best not to take the chance that you'd let something slip by drawing this discussion out. You just hope that-
"Is that why Alex's hotel was attacked?" your mother asks. "Because they didn't catch the man responsible for the bombing?"
-something like that doesn't get said. Once again, you try not to wince.
"Actually, hon, from what Alex and the suits said, what happened at the hotel was completely unrelated to the attack at the arena."
"And what DID happen, then?"
Your father glances at you and Lu-sensei - and the two of you glance at each other in turn.
For a moment it looks like your father is going to speak. You beat him to it.
"Dad, Sensei, may I explain?"
The older men regard you for a moment. Then Lu-sensei nods, and your father shrugs in a manner that seems to say, "I wouldn't want to in your case, but what the heck."
Now that you have permission and a reason to, you stop moving about and face your mother.
"What happened is that I was talking to a contestant from the Under Eighteens Division, a girl named Beryl, and we were interrupted by a couple of the 'bad apples' I mentioned earlier. You remember Gorn, that kid with the shiny jewel on his forehead that I fought in the semi-final?"
Your mother nods.
"Well, he had an older brother or cousin or something who'd fought Beryl and lost, and they were both sore about being beaten. So while Gorn tried to force a rematch with me, the other one, Karrokk, was having it out with Beryl. And she may have been... slightly over-enthusiastic in defending herself."
"How so?"
"She put him through a wall. And then the wall fell down. When the dust cleared, Gorn and Karrokk were gone, and Beryl took off in a hurry when we heard the adults coming."
"Hang on a second," your father says suddenly. "Alex, I'm pretty sure I heard you mention the name 'Beryl' to that, uh, imp last night."
"Yeah, she's the one who sent the imp. Apparently Beryl was hoping to meet with whoever was teaching me magic. I still haven't decided how to respond to that, for... well, a lot of reasons."
"Alex," your mother says then, "don't take this the wrong way, but why would a girl twice your age even be talking to you at all?"
For some reason, you feel a vague impulse to be annoyed at your mother's choice of words. You promptly ignore the feeling and try to explain why Beryl sought you out - while leaving out all mention of her associate, the bad-tempered Shadow-Creature with a grudge against eavesdroppers.
Gained Guarded D (Plus) (Plus)
"There's a bit of a story there, Mom. See, when I was watching the other matches, if I saw one or both of the fighters using ki or magic techniques, I'd use a skill or cast a spell of my own to let me see the energy they were using, and how they were using it. That made it easier to, well, copy the techniques in question."
Your mother frowns. "Is that allowed, Alex? Mr. Tze?"
"It is," your teacher replies. "Having your techniques analyzed and copied is one of the risks that every participant implicitly accepts when they agree to attend the tournament. The consensus within the community is that if you don't want your moves copied, you shouldn't use them in a public venue. That said," he adds with a glance at you, "it is expected that observers will not be too... heavy-handed, so to speak, in their efforts."
"I thought I was being polite enough to pass muster," you continue. "Beryl thought otherwise, and wanted a word about that. And other stuff."
"Such as?"
"She was kind of impressed with how much I'd shown I could do using magic. The whole reason she sent that imp seems to be because she wanted to ask if she could learn from whoever taught me."
The adults look at you, and you grin sheepishly.
"I, uh, may have neglected to inform her that I'm mostly self-taught, aside from what Briar could teach me. In my defense, we didn't have a whole lot of time to talk about it, and Beryl didn't react to Briar being in that room at the hotel anyway, so..."
"I suppose that makes sense," your mother muses.
You carefully do not sigh in relief-
"Though I get the feeling there's something you're still not saying," she adds, narrowing her gaze.
-which is a good thing, because it appears you aren't out of the woods just yet. Curse that maternal trouble-sense!
"There IS something else," you admit, "but it's kind of a private matter for Beryl, and I'd rather not talk about it."
Your mother's expression is suspiciously neutral, but she finally nods. "Alright, Alex. That's fair enough."
This time, you do let out a faint sigh of relief.
"But if this girl does something in the future that could or does get you in trouble, I want to know about it," your mother adds firmly.
Given the... less-than-spectacular way this part of the discussion went, you feel it may be time to move on to a different topic. You've covered magic and martial arts to some extent, so what shall you talk about now?
She doesn't use it often, but still, you know that when Mom takes THAT tone, there can be no argument - not from you, not from Zelda, not even from your Dad. You half-suspect that if she turned the Voice of Maternal Supremacy on Lu-sensei, even he might have to bow before it. Or flee at blue-shifting speed.
Regardless, you nod. "Sure, Mom. Now, for something completely different... how about we talk about the people I met at the tournament who were my age, and didn't go around getting into trouble?"
Just like that, your mother smiles. "That sounds lovely, Alex."
You spend the better part of an hour talking about the other kids from the Under Tens Division and the prelims. Even though you didn't get the chance to really know him that well, you decide to start with Ranma, since he was the most normal of the lot that you personally encountered - not a potential super-medium like Ichigo, not a secret part-human or open non-human like Tatsuki, Kahlua, the two giantspawn jerks, or Gorn, CERTAINLY not a kid with a dragon's soul like Altria, and not even a ninja like Kasumi, Ayane, or Taki. No, Ranma was just a likeable kid who was really good at martial arts. That makes him a safe place to start before getting into... well, the weirder people.
Next up is Ichigo, who was reasonably normal in spite of his insane spiritual potential, and also another guy. You really don't know nearly enough guys on a first-name basis, and while you have nothing against girls, being surrounded by them all the time occasionally grates. Then you mention Tatsuki - leaving out her oni lineage issues, since that's another of those private matters - and the ninja girls - again, not getting into the fact that they ARE ninja - and then Altria, who your folks have visual evidence is just about as unusual and disproportionately-powerful a kid as you are. Kagome and her brother slip in as honorable mentions, even though you didn't actually meet them AT the tournament; Kurumu, on the other hand, you leave out, since she WAS getting into trouble when you met her, even if only with you. Only after that do you bring up Kahlua and her sisters, largely because they provide a good launching-off point for supernatural beings that aren't automatically hostile towards humans.
Your parents' reaction is... surprising.
"Wait, wait, wait!" your father bursts out, looking from you to Lu-sensei and back again. "You're telling me there were VAMPIRES at this thing? That could go out in the DAY? And they DIDN'T try to eat everyone in sight?"
"Um... yes?" you venture warily.
"That's crazy!" your father bursts out. "Vampires ALWAYS- the sun, they NEVER- it's crazy!"
Your mother says nothing, but her expression is a match for her husband's.
Your father isn't the only one having trouble finding the words to express himself. The way he's talking, it almost sounds to you like...
"I take it you were already aware of the local vampire infestation?" Lu-sensei ventures.
Your Dad gives the old man a dry look. "Sunnydale boy, here, sir. Born and raised, and most significantly, still alive."
Lu-sensei bows his head in respectful acknowledgement.
You honestly don't know what to say, or even what to feel. Shocked, confused, angry... you could do a good job for any of them right now.
The unexpected revelation that your parents already knew Sunnydale was crawling with vampires provokes a great sense of confusion in you. After all, vampires of the demonic persuasion are not prone to letting their victims get away, and you've never seen either of your folks wearing a cross - your family doesn't even go to church. So how would your folks have managed to learned about the local bloodsuckers without getting killed? And for that matter, if they knew vampires existed, why have they been reacting to all your other evidence of supernatural stuff with such open surprise?
On the other hand, puzzling as it is, this discovery also comes as a relief, since it makes talking about supernatural creatures easier than it might otherwise have been. It also means that, even if you aren't sure where or how they got the experience, your folks have a good idea of how to protect themselves in Sunnydale.
"Uh, Dad?" you ask. "What do you know about Sunnydale and its night-life, exactly?"
"I found out about the vampires in high school. Me and some buddies were heading home after a late football game, and we ran into a couple of guys we knew who'd 'gone missing' about a week earlier." He pauses, frowning. "It's not a happy experience, having somebody you used to call a friend tell you he's going to drink your blood, and then go all... deformed and fangy," your father says, gesturing across his face. "Not easily forgotten, either."
"If you don't mind my asking," Lu-sensei says, "how did you survive?"
"It helped a lot that there were seven of us," your Dad admits wryly. "And that three of us were carrying knives. We still got the crap kicked out of us, we just managed to make enough of a nuisance of ourselves that the bas- er, the creeps called it a bad job and went looking for an easier meal. Paul always was a lazy punk; I guess that carried over." Tony is lost in reflection for a time, before he shakes his head. "Anyway, I took to staying in after dark after that, whenever I could get away with it. The way I figured it, why risk getting killed for the sake of a social life when there was plenty of time to hang out after school and on weekends?"
"Of course, football was entirely worth the risk," your mother adds.
"Hey, I was being careful, not going crazy."
"And you, Mom?" you ask. "How did you find out?"
"Oh, I had the rotten luck to have to attend a funeral after dark when I was about twelve," your mother answers. "A friend of my mother's had lost her son, and the cemetery couldn't make time for the ceremony until evening, so about thirty people got front-row seats as the boy seemed to come back to life. His mother was delighted... right up until he bit her. Some of the men managed to chase the monster off in time to save the fool woman, and like your father, I pretty much swore off going out at night in favor of not getting attacked."
"Except for going to all the school dances," your father teases.
"Careful, not crazy, dear."
You wait half a beat, but neither of your parents adds anything further. "So that's it? You saw vampires a few times, and that's all you really know?" You're careful to avoid sounding accusing. You just want to be sure you have the facts straight.
"Pretty much," your father admits. "One beating was enough for me; I wasn't very inclined to go looking for more trouble, especially when it kept showing up around me as it was." He sighs. "So I hope you can understand why I'm not happy to hear about you meeting vampires at this tournament, Alex."
"Yeah, I understand. But Dad, there are some pretty major differences between the local type of vampire and Kahlua's family-"
"Do they drink blood?" he cuts in.
"As far as I know, yes."
"Are they abnormally strong?"
"Definitely."
"Do they attack people?"
You hold up a finger-
"Outside of the matches," your father adds.
-and promptly lower it. You do, in fact, have evidence that living vampires have a tendency towards violence. Witness Miss Akasha's stalking off to threaten the tournament masters, or how Kahlua and her sisters made jokes about it, or even the little tidbits Kahlua let slip about her mother and father and how their family does business with the rest of the supernatural world.
You also get the strong impression that if you don't present what you know carefully, your father may well forbid you from meeting any of the Shuzens again.
You take a breath. Yes, you have evidence that the living vampires have violent impulses, but they also clearly know how to control them. Akasha only started talking about breaking heads because somebody broke a promise to her and didn't tell her about a Very Dangerous Thing that had been roaming around the arena. And while Kahlua and her sisters did anticipate some manner of physical punishment being administered to the tournament masters, YOU were the one who suggested hanging the old men from the ceiling by their beards. And Cordelia didn't seem to think it was a bad idea, either.
So really, it could be said that living vampires are not that much more inclined to violence than humans. Granted, you're basing that conclusion on a pretty small sample, but it's first-hand observation; that counts for something, right?
"I can't comment on the species as a whole," you admit. "I only met four of them, and heard a little about two others - and they're all one family, so they might not be, um, representative of the whole. Based on what I saw, though? Kahlua's type of vampire isn't that much more inclined to violence than humans are. And their reasons for actually getting violent looked pretty much the same as ours, unlike the local sort."
Your father frowns. "How do you mean?"
"The kind of vampires you find in Sunnydale are demon-possessed corpses, and they're homicidal from day one. I'm not sure if it's the demon aspect or the undead aspect that makes them that way, or a combination of both; I did see a fair number of demons at the tournament who had no trouble behaving themselves outside of the ring, but I don't have enough experience with the undead to say for sure one way or another."
Poes and Guardians aren't exactly the best indicators; the former are mischievous at least as often as they are malicious, while the latter are either specifically-selected for or explicitly created to fit their purpose. Plus, they're spirits, not reanimated corpses. It could make a difference.
"And these... other vampires?" your mother asks.
"Well, I have a feeling that they might not care for the comparison, but they're more like enhanced humans. I mean, they live, breathe, have children, and even eat just like us, and if Kahlua and her sisters were any indication, they age, too. Drinking blood is just another part of their diet." You pause. "I'm not saying that they're harmless, but humans aren't exactly one-hundred-percent safe, either. What I said about their reasons for getting violent? Kahlua's mom got upset with the guys running the tournament because they had an agreement to keep her informed about things going on behind the scenes, and then decided not to tell her about a dangerous gate-crasher - and this when she had three little girls to look after. Mom, if it had been you, me, and Zelda in that situation, tell me you wouldn't want to break someone's head."
Your mother's expression says she'd be considering it, at least.
"Besides all of that?" you resume. "Kahlua and her sisters were nice, their mom was kind to us when she didn't need to be... and they're my friends. So..." You trail off with a shrug.
Gained King of Monsters F (Plus)
It's clear at a glance that your parents haven't been entirely swayed by your argument, but they also aren't just ignoring your words out of hand. What you say or do next could make all the difference in the outcome of this little debate.
Suspecting that you've gotten about as far in convincing your parents that not all vampires are created evilly, you turn to your nearest ally to seek aid.
Lu-sensei blinks and then stares at you, as if to ask, Who, me?
You rolls your eyes. Yes, you.
He fakes looking at a loss for words. What do you want me to say?
Something! your expression declares emphatically. Preferably helpful!
Alright, alright... sheesh, what an impatient student I have been cursed with...
Lu-sensei is remarkably eloquent with just his face. Must be all the wrinkles.
You've no sooner had the thought than the old man gives you a sharp look. I heard that!
YIIIII-!
Gained Sign Language E
"The Shuzens are a somewhat exceptional case," Lu-sensei says aloud, catching your parents' attention. "Small as it may be, they are the pre-eminent family in Japan's vampire community, and enjoy a great deal of respect overseas besides. They have been major supporters of the World Tournament since its inception, and I have never heard a word spoken against their behavior as guests." He pauses. "Occasional grumbles about excessive force in the ring, yes, but as Alex pointed out, that happens with human competitors as well. And in their defense, that breed of vampires are among those creatures that prefer to live apart from humans; they often don't fully understand our limitations."
"If that's supposed to make us feel better, Mr. Tze," your mother begins.
"Only to give you a clearer understanding of the people we are discussing," Lu-sensei says. "As Alex said, they are proud and somewhat aggressive - but their pride is as much a protection for the rest of us as it is a problem. Even in the old days, these vampires were far more likely to leave a human alive after feeding, if only for sheer practicality of a renewable food supply - and because it made them 'better' than the demonic breed, who the living vampires have always held in the utmost contempt. In modern times, the availability of donated blood and blood substitutes enable living vampires to get by without ever having to attack a human at all, which distances them even further from the demonic variety. For one of them to revert to that kind of violent behavior is considered unseemly, at best."
Gained Cryptozoology E (Plus) (Plus)
"But they still drink human blood, right?" your father guesses. "Like, direct from the source?"
Lu-sensei hesitates, then gives a nod. "It's no longer their primary method of feeding, but... yes, I am given to understand that they do."
That confirmation makes you a bit uncomfortable, and your parents clearly have stronger feelings on the matter. It's quite a good thing that you haven't brought up Kahlua's invitation to her birthday, because your folks probably would have rejected it out of hand right now if they knew.
Speaking of which... what are you going to do about that invitation?
You really would like to go to Kahlua's birthday party, but in light of your parents' decidedly poor impression of vampires, you feel that now isn't the best time to mention that. You'll give them a few hours, or even a day or two, to calm down and (hopefully) come to terms with what you've told them, THEN ask if you can go to the party.
And if the answer is no, well... taking up regular correspondence is always an option. In fact, the more you think about that, the more you feel that it isn't just an option, but a necessity. You met so many interesting people in Japan, and learned and taught so much in the process, that it seems a deep shame to simply let those relationships wither away. They went to the trouble of giving you their mailing addresses - and in three cases, have gone to the added effort of getting in touch with you on their own - and it would be a waste not to make use of that information. Yes, it will take some time from your already-crowded schedule, but you believe you can manage. It's not like you have to write all the letters all at once, right?
First up are responses to Kahlua, Beryl, Ambrose, and possibly whoever sent the still-unread letter in your pocket. Two of those (Beryl and Ambrose) don't need big long letters, just a brief explanation for the sorceress and a straight up "yes" or "no" for the old man - you can rattle something acceptable off in half an hour, tops. Writing to Kahlua will take longer, especially since you'll need to wait and see what your parents have to say before you can give a definitive reply, but hopefully the little bat-dude will understand. He seemed very reasonable last night, at least. And once those three letters are done and on their way, you can take a look at your mystery mail and figure out what kind of response it merits. Letters for the rest of the tournament crowd (and Kagome) can follow when you've got time over the next week or three; they haven't heard from you since the Adult Division Finals, so it's highly unlikely that a little additional delay will make or break things. And from there, you'll see how it goes.
Gained Priority: Magical Penpal Alex
Speaking of things and how they're going, your parents and Lu-sensei have shifted from vampires to other non-humans, starting with the kids they saw on the tapes last night. Your Dad has just made a gesture that hints at spikes erupting from his face, to which Lu-sensei responds by talking about Brachen demons - one of the better examples of a supernatural species not only capable of but quite happy to maintain peaceful co-existence with humans, as long as there's plenty of beer and the occasional good-natured bar-fight to be had, or so you understand.
With the adults' attention elsewhere, you decide you can take a minute to see what exactly was in the letter that the ninja-courier handed over. Taking a moment to consider the ambient mana levels in your backyard, you decide that it's safe to attempt another spell, and so you quickly re-cast the Spell to Comprehend Languages upon yourself, while unpocketing and unfolding the mysterious missive.
Gained Japanese D (E without Comprehend Languages)
After a moment's reading, you frown. The letter is quite clearly not from Ayane or Kasumi, and you're pretty sure it's not from Taki, either.
It reads as follows:
Mister Harris,
It has been brought to my attention that on your recent trip to Japan, you chose to involve yourself in a private affair between rival clans, and furthermore, were directly responsible for the survival of the Clan-Head of the Mugen Tenshin sect during the incident in Tokyo.
While your willingness to come to the aid of mere acquaintances at risk of your own safety is admirable and the skills you displayed laudable for one of your age, I must, regrettably, discourage you against taking similar action in the future. Private affairs are precisely that, particularly among the shadow community; uninvolved outsiders such as yourself should remain as such, for their own well-being and peace of mind.
Additionally, I extend my belated congratulations for your victory in the Under Tens Division. It may interest you to know that this is only the third time since the World Tournament's inception that a "first-generation" practitioner of the martial arts has taken first place in that age bracket, and the first such time in close to seventy years.
I look forward to seeing you fight again.
Raidou
You stand there, staring at the page in silence.
"What's it say?" Briar asks abruptly from just above your right ear.
Barely twitching at the fairy's abrupt re-appearance, you look from the letter to her glowing form, and then back again.
"I'm not sure, but I think it may be my first villainous threat," you reply.
"What was that, Alex?"
You look up and find the adults looking at you. For a moment, you fear they heard your comment to Briar, but your parents' expressions, at least, don't suggest anything of the sort. They look curious, not worried.
Deciding to play things cool, you tell your parents that the letter in your hands is from someone who saw you fight at the tournament, and was evidently impressed by your win.
You also make a mental note to hand the letter over to Lu-sensei later, so he'll be up to speed. And maybe he'll have a better idea of how to respond to that Raidou guy than you do; you don't really know anything about the man, except that he's Kasumi's uncle, has major issues with the rest of the family, and appears to be prone to solving his problems in a violent manner.
Your folks are visibly surprised that you're getting mail from somebody in Japan, and you have to take a moment to remind them that the Announcer stated up-front that you were from Sunnydale. That, a local phonebook, and some patience are really all somebody would need to track down your home address; there are only five Harris households in Sunnydale, and you're related to all of them.
On a related note, you wonder if you ought to mention your plans to start writing to the other kids you met.
With the letter issue tabled, you join the adults' conversation about non-human beings. It goes on for another half-hour or so, and during the discussion, you learn a few tidbits about the local demon population that hadn't turned up on Demons, Demons, Demons or your other online sources. Lu-sensei is pretty well-informed on the subject, which makes you wonder (not for the first time) where he gets his information.
Gained Cryptozoology E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Demonology E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Parazoology E (Plus)
What ends the discussion is not any objections on your parents' part or a lack of further instruction to provide on Lu-sensei's, but simply the fact that Zelda has woken up from her nap, and none of the adults appear comfortable talking about the things that go bump in the night around her, except in general terms. You have to take a moment to consider your own feelings on the subject.
You decide that telling your parents you've picked up several pen-pals in Japan is a safe enough topic to broach - and their reactions show you were right. Your mother seems to approve of you opening up to more people, and also that you'd be getting regular practice in using a different language. Your father isn't as openly approving, but his casual shrug and willingness to let your mother say what needs to be said at least show he isn't opposed to the idea.
Though he does ask about postage. You're actually not sure what it costs to send a letter overseas, so you'll have to check that out. Unless of course you were planning to summon magical couriers of your own to deliver the letters?
Although you are not entirely comfortable with the idea of leaving Zelda in the dark on local supernatural dangers, you can't really argue with your parents' wish to keep quiet around her on the matter. At two (going on three) years of age, Zelda really is too young to take the kind of discussion you've all been having seriously. About the only thing telling her "monster stories" is likely to accomplish at this point is to give her bad dreams.
So, you resolve that until Zelda's old enough to grasp the importance of knowing what's out there and how to avoid, escape from, or fight back against it, you'll just have to pick up the slack on her behalf, Big Brother style. Briar and Moblin have already been helping in that regard, and since Zelda spends most of each day with your Mom, HER being aware and informed of the dangers is almost as good as Zelda being able to spot them herself.
You offer to go play with Zelda so that the adults can carry on their conversation, but seeing that Zelda has woken up in a "huggy" mood and claimed your old man's lap in the name of Little Sisteria, your parents decide to let the discussion lapse for now.
You assure your father that you have the mail issue handled, and it won't put any further dents in the family finances.
"...magic?" he guesses.
"I was thinking so, yes," you admit.
"There are spells for sending mail?"
You frown. "It's more like there are spells that can be adapted for sending mail."
The one you have in mind is the Spell of Planar Binding, which can call up all sorts of beings with both the ability to teleport anywhere on the planet, and the intelligence necessary to find a given address. Of course, you might need to hike out of town to avoid issues with calling for extraplanar aid while on the Hellmouth: you're confident in your ability to cast Summoning spells without tearing a hole in the fabric of reality through which endless horrors could intrude, or of getting answered by some demonic entity too powerful for you to handle; but you're less certain of your ability to call up potential messengers of a non-demonic nature. And while the idea of having tiny demons deliver your mail is amusing, it'd probably give off the wrong impression to most of the folks you're planning on writing to. Not to mention that the only place in town where you could cast the necessary spells without drawing attention would be Lu-sensei's well-warded training hall. You doubt that the old man would be happy with the idea of a bunch of minor demons popping in and out of his place every few weeks.
"Well, if you're sure," your father says.
"I am."
"Alright, then. Just... no more imps in the backyard, okay?"
"Okay."
Since you were talking about ghoulies and ghosties and long-legged beasties before Zelda showed up, you decide to steer the conversation in a different direction - namely, things you can do to help keep "unwanted company" out of the house. After a brief talk about mystical thresholds and why it is that you should never, ever invite somebody in after dark, or even during the day - a chat made somewhat tricky by Zelda's presence and the general reluctance to use words like "vampires" and "demons" around her - you explain to your folks about your ongoing project to place a ward of concealment around your room.
Such a direct admission segues, unavoidably, into a talk about how any use of magic can be detected by another person with the ability to use magic - and by some things without that skill. You hasten to assure your parents that the spells you've cast around the house are minor enough that their lingering energies fade within a minute or so, and can't even be detected through the walls. Additionally, you've been working hard on honing your ability to suppress those very emanations.
Your folks are STILL rather put out by this entire line of discussion. It's one thing to see (on tape, no less) that you were throwing around bucketloads of magic in an arena many hundreds of miles away, before a crowd of thousands; it's another to be told that every spell you've cast in the last day could potentially have been drawing attention from the supernatural side of Sunnydale to your very doorstep. And just a few minutes ago, you were talking about using even more magic to send your mail!
"Speaking of which," your father says then. "Could you have hidden whatever spell you were going to use for that, Alex?"
"I was planning on asking Lu-sensei's permission to cast the spell at the training hall," you tell your father. "Between the wards there and my own skills, I'd be able to hide the magic with no problem. Of course, that would depend on whether summoning things inside the ward would damage it, which can happen depending on how they're set up, and also whether or not Sensei minded having a supernatural mail service running out of his place."
You glance at Lu-sensei. "I wouldn't mind the latter, as long as you weren't summoning demons on my property, Alex, but I'm honestly not sure how the wards on my building would react." He shrugs. "It's a situation that I never anticipated when I had them placed, and it's never come up before."
You nod. "That's okay, sir. If all else fails, I can just run outside of town and do the summoning there. If that's okay," you add, looking at your parents.
"I'm not too happy with this idea, Alex," your mother says. "Honestly, if you can't use this spell safely anywhere indoors, I'd rather you didn't use it at all."
"I'm inclined to agree with your Mom on this one, kid," your father adds, before raising one hand in a conciliatory gesture. "But I'm willing to hold off making any hard calls until you get a better idea of what you can or can't do at your teacher's place - if that's okay with you." He glances at Lu-sensei, who nods.
"I have no objections to that plan. Would you prefer to investigate the matter now, Alex, or wait until tomorrow?"
"I'm fine with now," you say. "I mean, if that's alright."
Your parents exchange looks: your mother's is still slightly concerned; your father's, still reserving judgement.
"That's fine, Alex," your Dad tells you. "It'll give your Mom and me a chance to talk about... well, about a lot of stuff."
"But come straight home afterwards," your mother adds.
You really don't have anything that urgently needs doing elsewhere, so you agree to hurry home after you're done investigating the summoning-related limits of Lu-sensei's wards.
After a brief round of farewells and your mother walking the guest to the door and returning his dread implement of torture, you and Lu-sensei set out, Briar tagging along as a proper fairy guardian should. You wait until you're far enough away from the house not to be easily-visible through the front window, before reaching into your pocket and pulling out Raidou's letter.
"I think you should probably read this, Sensei."
And after making a brief sound of curiosity, he does.
"...well," the old man says a moment later. "That's one of the politer threats I've heard in quite some time. You DID catch on that it was a threat, right, Alex?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good, good."
"What's this?" Briar interrupts.
"Remember the evil boss ninja we saw in Japan?"
"...yes."
"It seems like he's kind of ticked at me for getting mixed up in what he considered 'a private matter.'"
"...and now he's sending you politely-threatening letters."
"I got the impression it's just going to be the one." As Briar sighs, you turn to your master. "How worried should I be about this, Sensei?"
He raises one wispy eyebrow. "How worried do you think you should be?"
You consider the question, then hold up one hand, palm to the ground, and waggle it back and forth.
"Kind of sort of?" you venture. "I mean, the way that messenger was behaving when he dropped the letter off, I got the impression that he was a LOT more concerned about being in Sunnydale at all than he was with meeting me face-to-face. If that's the kind of reaction the Hellmouth gets from ninja in general, well..."
"I can't speak for every ninja, of course," Lu-sensei tells you, "but within the community, the Hellmouth DOES have a rather grim reputation among those that are aware of it. Not that this stops some of the more overconfident or power-hungry idiots from thinking they can make a name for themselves here, but it's rare to find more than a handful of such individuals in any given organization."
"I got the impression Raidou was kind of power-hungry himself."
"Among other failings, yes, but it's fairly well-known that his particular interest is in rare and powerful martial arts techniques. Demons and sorcery don't appeal to him on their own merits, and one of the silver linings of the Hellmouth is that the demons it attracts tend to be pure, savage predators, unschooled brawlers with impulse control problems, or glass-jawed magic-users. Not much in the way of artistry among them, martial or otherwise."
"So, Raidou's not likely to come here himself," you guess.
"Not unless you or I do something to further provoke him, no. And he's unlikely to send his suboordinates here - I got the impression from talking to Master Shiden and Master Genra that Raidou doesn't have all that many flunkies to start with, and a good number of those are still in custody."
You blink, surprised. "The cops can actually hold ninja?"
"Well, not the local police, certainly, but in Japan? Yes." The old man smirks. "Though it helps that the more likely flight risks got a visit by some of the tournament masters after they were subdued. The right pressure-point combination can mess up a man's ki for months, even years - and while I have my personal arguments with those old fools, I will admit that they do know their techniques."
Gained Local Knowledge (Moonlit World) E
"Well, that's good to know," you finally say. "I wasn't worried about myself, as much as I was my family, but if the ninja probably aren't going to show up-"
"As long as we don't do anything else to set them off," Lu-sensei reminds you.
"-then I don't need to worry. As much. About the ninja." You pause, glancing at Lu-sensei. "Right?"
He smiles, and the rest of your walk is in frustrating silence.
When you get to the training hall, you waste no time in investigating the wards. You already know that you can summon your Blessed Sword in this place without knocking down the defenses, but there's a difference between summoning a temporary magical weapon (which may or may not be stored on your person, mystically-speaking) and reaching out into the aether to call up a living, intelligent entity. You explore that difference carefully, casting a spell to summon the weakest creature you can - a tiny yellow Chu, in this case - and then steadily working your way up to the limits of your current abilities and the wards' concealing effect. The Chu is joined by a Keese, then by a Tektite, then an Octorok, then a Wolfos - and then Briar cautions you that, while the ward isn't showing any signs of being weakened by the basic summonings, it does appear to have reached its limit for dispersing mana.
Fourth-circle spells, huh? Not bad, not bad at all, especially for a ward that wasn't specifically set up to hide spellcasting.
Noticing that Lu-sensei and your motley collection of beasties are regarding one another with some suspicion, you dismiss the summons. They vanish in bursts of smoke, which leave you and Briar momentarily coughing. Lu-sensei just waves one hand and deflects the dark-tinted cloud of sorcerous vapor away from himself.
"Okay," Briar says after clearing her throat. "So, we know that works. Ready for something a bit more serious?"
"Just a sec. Sensei?"
"Yes, Alex."
"Do you mind if we draw a diagram on your floor?"
He considers that. "As long as you clean it up before you go, I suppose it's fine."
Permission obtained, you consider your next step. You need to lay down a Magic Circle in order to properly call a monster, but the former spell normally requires a large circle of metal shavings - usually silver, though it can vary depending on the nature of what you're planning to call up. You're decidedly short on the materials needed, but you feel that your Conjuration skill might, just might, be good enough to whip up the stuff you need. Then again, do you really want to be risk a "might" when you're about to bring down the walls of time and space and allow something from the other side to cross over? While you're on the Hellmouth? You could just as easily get around the need for material components by burning more mana when you create the circle, and it'd be more reliable, at least for the temporary test-run you're planning on.
You consider your options for a moment, debating the merits of a circle of conjured silver versus a circle of pure mana as elements of a summoning diagram.
Then you ask yourself, "Why not use both?"
You think it over. It's still a few hours until you have to be home for dinner, so you certainly have time to conduct this little project, and even with your recent spate of spellcasting, your mana reserves are more than sufficient to the task of casting a few more spells. And if it did work, that would be two additional layers of security, something you can never really have too much of on the Hellmouth.
So you go ahead and cast the Spell of Creation. Well, one of the Spells of Creation; there are several levels to this sort of magic, which start at "create small, temporary objects made of non-living plant and/or animal matter," and then advance through common minerals, rare and precious metals, complex minerals and alloys, and then rare earths and supernatural materials - or so Briar tells you. You don't yet have the power to create the high-end stuff, and even if you did, it wouldn't be stable enough to be very useful. Since Lu-sensei's ward can hide a fourth-level spell, and because that's your current level of ability, you cast the spell as such, trading mass and duration (neither of which you need too much of) for stability - for REALITY.
Gained Conjuration D
Gained Earth Elementalism D (Plus) (Plus) (D (Plus) without Heart of Fire)
It takes you several minutes to complete the spell, during which you keep part of your attention on Briar, as she reports on the condition of Lu-sensei's wards. The drawn-out casting of this particular brand of magic seems to have a secondary benefit, as it reduces the strain put on the warding scheme at any given time; it doesn't mean that you could hide a fifth-circle Conjuration spell (not unless you were able to suppress your aura while casting that level of magic, a skill currently well beyond your means), but it's beneficial here and now, since it helps the ward purge the built-up energy from your prior spellcasting faster than you're leaking excess mana into it.
Gained Arcanology E (Plus)
As the powdery flakes of bright silver take shape on the floor, laid out according to your will in the complex diagram of a summoning circle, you call up a Spell of Divination to probe the quality of the material. You know that temporary Conjured materials normally can't be used as components in spells; their temporary, unstable existence can't support the energy involved, which usually causes the item in question to disintegrate and take the whole spell with it whenever somebody makes the attempt. You've tried to make this silver more durable than that...
Gained Divination C (Plus) (Plus)
...but it seems that you've not succeeded. Oh, it's definitely silver making up that ring of glyphs, and any werewolf that you threw a handful of the stuff at would doubtlessly break out in a nasty rash, but a close inspection has shown you that the material is still too dependent on magic for its existence, too "unreal," to support any further sorcerous workings.
That having been said, you do have to wonder if a less inherently-valuable material might not have passed the stability threshold for use in spellcasting. Crude organic matter and common minerals do last quite a bit longer than precious metals when brought into existence using a spell of the same level of potency, which implies greater stability... well, it's a thought for another time.
"No good?" Briar guesses.
"Not for use in a spell, anyway," you admit. With a simple mental command, you will the conjured silver to dissipate. "Do you think the ward can handle two more spells of that level?"
"As far as I can tell, it shouldn't be a problem."
With that ringing endorsement, how can you resist?
Focusing your will, you begin casting the Magic Circle, drawing out the spell into a ritual so that you can overcome the usual material requirement with brute mystical force. With a minute's work, you create a second mystical diagram on the floor of Lu-sensei's training hall, this one constructed entirely of radiant magical energy. You pause to inspect your work, and then nod in satisfaction at the absence of misshapen characters or insufficiently-curved lines.
"How are the wards looking, Briar?"
"Holding steady!"
"I wonder if I should have drawn the blinds before we began," Lu-sensei muses with a wry glance at the large front windows.
You blink and look up from the circle. Huh. Yeah, that might have been a good idea. Still, it's a sunny day, the hall is well-illuminated, and the glow isn't THAT intense, nor are the windows so low in the wall as to make this part of the floor visible from the street. Casual passersby aren't likely to have noticed the lightshow, Lu-sensei doesn't have classes on Sundays, so invited visitors are unlikely, and if anyone was actively spying on you, your Sensei would have noticed and warned you.
Right?
Still, you are about to attempt summoning a creature from beyond space and time, so...
"Um... could you do that now, Sensei?"
He nods wordlessly and strides over to the window where, after a moment of fiddling with a beaded rope, wooden slats begin to roll down over the glass. The interior of the blind reveals more of the elaborate imagery Lu-sensei has painted on the walls, in this case a forested landscape under a mid-day sun, and you know that there should be a similar picture on the front. And as the next blind unfolds itself, the image is expanded to include a lake, a regal crane fishing for lunch while a flock of smaller birds soar overhead.
You wonder briefly if the picture is a cover for more wards, or just themed decor, before getting back to your magic.
It will take you a good ten minutes to call forth a potential messenger, and while you've already decided to summon something that is either inherently good or at least not inherently evil in nature, spells of this sort require you to be a bit more specific. You don't have to name individuals - though that is certainly an option - but you do have to name a type of creature.
Your magic has been defaulting to calling up creatures from Hyrule pretty much since day one, so you decide you might as well embrace the theme, rather than wasting time and energy fighting your own power. That said, there are quite a few nasty things lurking in the dark places of the realm that you'd rather not summon right now; you're much more interested in getting something of a benevolent, even angelic nature, as those are the guys most inclined to help kids and Chosen Ones.
Or so you're given to understand, from all those times your dreams have shown Link or even Princess Zelda facing Ganondorf down with Light Arrows.
Man, even in memory, those things burn.
Speaking of purification by HOLY FIRE... it occurs to you that you might be well-served by taking a moment to purge your system of the Hellmouth energy's, or as much of it as you can manage, before you really get down to fiddling with the fabric of space-time. You mention this to Briar, who immediately agrees that it does sound like a good idea.
The two of you take a few minutes to attend to that matter. In the process, you decide to go ahead and change the spiritual bandage you've been wearing on your still-healing soul since you got up this morning, as the ethereal substance has absorbed a fair amount of external contamination in the last eight hours. You feel better, cleaner, when the process is finished - not immensely so, but enough to notice, and so probably enough to have had an impact on your spellcasting.
Gained Corruption Resistance E (Plus)
Gained Corruption Sense D (Plus)
With that last precaution out of the way, you start casting. You want a creature of Hyrule, preferably of a celestial nature, and it must be something willing and able to serve as a messenger... ah. There really is only one possible choice, isn't there?
"Mighty Din," you pray at a break in the ritual, "please don't let me screw this up."
And then, you complete the spell: "I summon you!"
Gained Summoning C (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
"POSTMAN!"
"Wait, what?" Briar demands.
She is cut off as golden-hued smoke erupts in your circle, momentarily obscuring all view of the interior. None of the glittering vapor escapes the ring, so when you hear a man coughing, you know it has to be coming from your target.
"Gah! Whew! Hate when that happens!" complains a voice you have never heard before, slightly high-pitched but definitely male. As the smoke begins to clear, you see a Hylian figure of above-average height, clad in a gold-striped white tracksuit and wearing a tall red hat with the symbol of a bunny's head on the front. On his back is a large satchel, bulging with letters, and his feet and lower legs are bound up by vaguely Grecian-style sandals - with little white wings on the ankles, that flex as if alive. That minor detail, plus the unearthly gleam of his hair and eyes, reveal this fellow's more-than-mortal stature.
"Ah!" the Celestial Postman exclaims as he catches sight of you. "Goodness me! Are you the one who called for a Postman, kid?"
"I am."
"Huh. Never been summoned by a Gerudo boy before," the Postman muses. He looks around at the interior of the training hall, brow furrowing in a puzzled frown. "For that matter, never been summoned to a place like this before, either. Oh, hello sir, miss." He nods to Lu-sensei, and politely doffs his hat to Briar.
"Hello," Lu-sensei replies. He sounds like he's a bit at a loss for words.
"Yeah, hi." Briar sighs, and you can feel the Look she gives you. "Really, Alex? Really?"
"What? I needed someone trustworthy to deliver my letters, and who better?"
"Ah-ha! Yes indeed, who better than a member of Hyrule's Royal Postal Service, retired in good standing after fifty years of loyal service, not a single delivery missed - except in cases of bad writing," he adds as an aside, before coughing. "And not a single delivery late, except when they went to that kid in green who just kept running all over the country - seriously, some people just have no consideration for the hardships of the working man... but even then, I persevered, and upheld the honor of the service and our motto! 'Neither rain, nor snow, nor rampaging Moblin, nor hungry Wolfos, nor mischievous Poe, nor lurking Leever, nor-'"
"Yes, exactly," you interrupt, before he can get into a dissertation of Hyrule's entire monstrous population. "And I take it from your attire, you're still in the business?"
"Indeed I am, young sir! Of course, I do handle mail for a slightly different client base these days, and some of the destinations are VERY different, but the service remains the same! Sensibly-priced! Secure! Swift! And with a smile!" He demonstrates, teeth sparkling, and then relaxes slightly. "So, young sir. What can I deliver for you?"
"At the moment, nothing. This is more of an interview."
"Oh, I see. Well, in that case, what's the job you have in mind?"
You think on that for a moment.
"I've got half a dozen friends living in Japan that I'm planning to write to on a regular basis," you begin, before pausing. "Do you know where Japan is?"
"Not specifically, but one of my Hundred-and-Eighty Secret Postal Arts allows me to find the intended recipient of a letter no matter the distance between us!"
It takes a moment for you to respond to that. "Okay... just so you know, there's a very large ocean between here and Japan. Is there a Secret Postal Art that'll let you handle that?"
The Postman beams. "As a matter of fact, there is!"
"How about overcoming the language barrier?"
"Not a problem!"
"Avoiding notice by normal people?"
The Postman blinks. "Now why in Hyrule would I want to do something like that?"
Ah, a problem. "Well, we're not in Hyrule, are we? Or even on the same world."
"True enough, but... do people have something against mail workers here?"
"No, but magic is kind of a secret here. Most people don't know or really believe that it exists, and that goes for monsters, ghosts, demons, and anything else supernatural besides."
Now it's the Postman's turn to be struck speechless. "I have no idea how to respond to that," he finally admits.
"It's probably not too big an issue, anyway," you muse. "You don't look that much different from the local people, so as long as they just see you running around delivering letters, they probably won't make a fuss. Unless you can fly...?" you add, with a glance at his wing-bearing ankles.
On cue, the wings flutter.
"I can, actually," the Postman says. "Not too high, but enough to get quite a turn of speed going, compared to what I was capable of in life."
"Fast enough to cross an ocean?" you guess.
"Not in any reasonable amount of time," comes the answer. He pauses, and adds, "Not unless it's a rather small ocean, that is. For long-distance jobs like this one sounds to be, I just teleport to the general delivery area, then make the rest of the trip on foot. Or on the wing, if there are monsters around. Or just teleport all the way, if there are flying monsters." He's starting to work himself up, and he gives you a nervous look. "Are there going to be monsters? Of either sort?"
"Most of the addresses are either residential or for public drop-off sites, so as long as you travel by day and stay in human neighborhoods and out of dark alleys and the like, most of the local dangers should leave you be."
He sighs. "Only most?"
"Yeah, uh, one of the friends I'm writing to is a vampire." You pause, not recalling if vampires of any kind are known in Hyrule or not-
"Eeep!"
-but the Postman's flinch-and-squeak seems to answer the question for you. "On the other hand, she sent me a letter by a sort of messenger-bat, who's hanging around to take my reply. I could probably ask her to keep doing that in the future, if-"
The Postman very nearly falls to his knees. "Oh, thank you Farore."
Given that response, you make a mental note to ask Kahlua if it'll be alright for you to borrow the services of her courier when you write. "Aside from that," you continue, "I need to write one letter to a young sorceress - I'm not sure if that's going to be a regular thing or not - and I'm planning to write to a girl who lives in England, which is in the opposite direction of Japan from here, across the continent and a completely different ocean. But she's got a wizard who's apparently done... something to the mail system-"
You break off short as the Postman goes ramrod straight, expression flat, as he radiates a faint golden aura.
"Sacrilege!" comes the booming declamation. "How dare he interfere with the running of the Postal Service?!"
"...yeeaah," you answer. "Anyway, Altria's mail is covered, so that should be it... unless you want to send letters to your family, Briar?"
"Not really," the fairy responds. She's trying as hard as you not to look too closely at the glowing Postman. "At least, not right now. Still kind of ticked at Mom for the whole 'heroic trials from nowhere' thing, you know?"
You do know. "Okay. So, can you give me a rough idea of what it would cost to deliver six letters a month to Japan? And maybe, what it would cost for you to pick up the responses?"
"I'd have to check the local going rates to be certain," the Postman says carefully, as he gets his radiance under control. "But if these six letters are going to relatively safe areas-"
You nod at his questioning look.
"-then the service would cost 1 Rupee per letter. Hazard pay ups that to 5 Rupees per letter, and deliveries that involve serious risk to life, limb, soul, or other mail is 10 Rupees per letter."
You wince. "We, uh, kind of don't use Rupees here."
"Oh, gold coins, then?"
"No."
"Silver?"
You think there's some silver in modern coins, but... "Technically, no."
"Oh, Goddesses have mercy, you don't trade souls here, do you?"
"What? No!"
"Oh, good. Sorry, but, uh, I've had some REALLY bad experiences with past payments."
You can only imagine.
"Though if you don't use any of the usual standards... wait." For some reason, your out-of-town visitor gives you a wary look. "This isn't one of those weirdo countries that uses paper money, is it?"
You object to the term "weirdo."
"We use metal coins, too," you say in defense of your national currency.
"And what are they made of, copper?"
"Copper-nickel alloy, actually," Lu-sensei replies. "But good guess."
Judging from his expression, the Postman isn't thrilled to have been right. You can guess why; while you don't know what the material value of modern coinage is, odds are you'd need a VERY large amount of the stuff to equal the value of silver or gold.
You briefly consider offering to pay the Postman in postage stamps, thinking he might find them valuable because of their intrinsic connection to his line of work, but you dismiss that idea. Really, they're just a different form of the paper money that he so visibly dislikes.
"How do you feel about an exchange of services?" you suggest. Casting spells for credit worked pretty well for you with Old Man Gen.
"Hmmm. That IS an accepted standard of business," the Postman admits, "but I'm not sure what you can do that I really need or want. How are you at protection spells?"
"I have the knowledge necessary to cast sixth-circle Spells of Abjuration," you answer promptly. "My power and skill take a hit due to my age, and there's a risk of drawing attention if I cast spells over first-circle outside of this building - and even here, the wards will only cover spells up to the fourth circle."
His eyes shine. "So you can cast a Spell of Nondetection."
Yes and no, you think but do not say out loud. You have the theoretical knowledge needed to cast that particular spell, sure, but you also have zero practical experience. It's kind of hard for a guy on your budget to practice a spell that requires you to sacrifice a not-insignificant quantity of diamond dust every time you cast it.
That said... you do know the Spell of Blood Money. Briar threatened to inflict grievous bodily harm AND unleash Cordelia upon you the last time you suggested casting it, but this is different; the Spell of Nondetection takes only a few seconds to cast, so you wouldn't be standing there bleeding for several minutes. Surely Briar can't object to you making a small, easily-recovered sacrifice...?
Actually, she'll probably object anyway. She does that whenever you come up with an idea that might get you hurt.
Still. The Postman would clearly like to have you cast Nondetection for him, and it's not at all hard to understand his motivation. He's a celestial being, a divine messenger. Your summoning circle is keeping his aura contained and concealed, and Lu-sensei's wards would do the same, but if this guy took one step outside, you wouldn't be remotely surprised to see Sunnydale's demon population start crawling out of their dank crypts and evil lairs en masse in order to hunt him down. Magic-users would be able to sense him as well, and their intentions would range from "delaying" and "mildly annoying" at best, to "as bad or worse than the demons'" at worst.
A spell to hide his heavenly aura would make his work here much, much easier and safer. It makes sense.
The Postman's request is within your abilities, provided you can acquire (or substitute for) the necessary material component. Just as you're about to say so, however, another course of action occurs to you. It would be just as effective, if not slightly more so, and it has the advantage of not requiring expensive reagents or your blood.
If you're being completely honest, you have to admit that you're in favor of both those factors.
"I could do that," you answer, "assuming I could get my hands on some diamond dust-"
The Postman punches the air and spins around. "Not a problem, young sir! I know a guy who knows a guy-"
"OR," you interrupt, raising your voice and one hand while trying not to come across as too rude, "I could just cast a Spell of Undetectable Alignment."
"-who knows a Goron, and... eh?" The messenger blinks as your words sink in. Using a quieter, slightly startled tone of voice, he asks, "You can do that?"
"I can."
"...are you secretly a priest of Din or something?"
"But never mind that," you continue. "Which would you prefer?"
"Oh, definitely the new option," the Postman admits. "I've had both spells cast on me in the past, usually when I was making a delivery for or to a priest or one of the court wizards, and I definitely prefer the spell that lasts a full day and doesn't leave me owing somebody money in the bargain."
Gained Haggling F (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
You have to wonder: should a celestial being be that concerned about cash? Local theology says no, but then again, you're dealing with a Hylian spirit - and Din is the goddess who created the earth of Hyrule, traditionally the most physical of the elements. So, yeah, that might explain it, at least in part.
Gained Hyrulean Theology E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
But enough idle musing. You have your answer. In exchange for the casting of a helpful aura-cloaking spell that will cost you nothing but mana, the Postman will take your letters to your friends.
Is there anything else you'd like to discuss with the Postman?
"I am interested in acquiring a set of books on Hyrulean theology," you respond. You're thinking not only of your own interest in the Goddesses, but also the issue with that divine marking hidden in Cordelia's soul. You haven't heard from her yet about whether or not she was ever baptized, but there's no harm in having the reference materials for a possible conversion on-hand, even if it turns out she isn't interested.
The Postman whistles. "That's entirely doable, young sir, but it will cost you."
"He's right, Alex," Briar says. "Unless Hyrule's come up with the printing press since my last visit-" She pauses and looks at the Postman.
He shakes his head. "I've heard the term used among priests of Nayru hanging about in the hereafter, and there's a couple of eccentric inventor types who could probably do it," he admits, "but they're kind of focused on building better Moblin-traps and unlocking the mysteries of the ancient ruins - and the more ancient ruins, and the even more ancient ruins, and the really ancient ruins..."
"Yeah, that's about what I figured." Briar sighs. "Which means all the books are either handmade or magically-crafted, which means they're going to be expensive. The more so since you'll have to come up with some sort of payment that Hylian bookmakers will accept."
"This is a pre-industrial society we're discussing, yes?" Lu-sensei inquires. "One without universal literacy?"
"Yes to both," Briar says.
Your master nods. "There are any number of mundane tradeable goods Alex could acquire relatively inexpensively that would be highly valuable in most such cultures. Though the question of what the people he would be dealing with want is a sticking point." He turns to you. "I suspect you would need an intermediary to approach them on your behalf to find those answers, lad."
You glance at the Postman, who raises his hands.
"Sorry, folks, but that's above my pay grade. I just deliver the mail."
You consider the matter. "Would you happen to know, or know of, someone I could get in touch with that would be helpful for this?"
"Hmmm." The Postman thinks on it, stroking his narrow chin. "The merchants and negotiators I knew in life have all passed on and moved on since then, so they're out, and the folks who currently do this sort of thing for a living... well, they're all still living. I don't think you could summon any of them, not without a really precise and powerful bit of spellwork. And they might not take being contacted by a sorcerer from another world too terribly well," he adds with an embarrassed grimace. "I don't know how much of Hyrule's history you know, lad, but uh-"
"Contact with other worlds tends to result in invasion," you sum up. Followed by the emergence of a Hero, and much glorious golden smiting, you mentally add.
"Yeah, that." The messenger sighs. "It's depressing, but in defense of my homeland, I honestly can't think of a case where interplanar contact started out peaceful. They have good reason to be nervous."
"What about the church?" Briar suggests. "They'd be the ones producing the books Alex wants, and they're probably less likely to flip out at the idea of interplanar commerce than anybody other than the court magicians or the Sages."
"Probably so," the Postman agrees. "Of course, sending a message to a court magician or a Sage is another option." He pauses, frowning in thought, then shakes his head. "Writing to the royal family is probably pointless. They don't know you from a Deku, and while financial dealings with foreign entities are the sort of thing that the crown handles, they almost always involve other nations or large non-government organizations, not individuals. Best-case scenario, they'd hand your letter off to one of the court spellcasters anyway."
"Worst-case scenario, they think he's a crackpot and misfile the letter somewhere it never sees the light of day again?" Briar guesses.
"That's a possibility, but the more likely worst-case scenario is that somebody influential finds out about the letter, panics, and starts pushing for the crown to do something really foolish and dangerous for everybody involved."
You sigh. "I see."
"In any case, if you want to send one or more messages to Hyrule proper, I'll waive the usual delivery charge in exchange for that spell of yours." The Postman's smile is broad, hopeful, and just a little gleefully vindictive. "It would be AMAZING to be able to take a day to see the old homeland without having to worry about the monsters actively coming after me."
You give him a sidelong glance, not quite convinced that a celestial being should be able to smile like that. "You... do know it's not a Spell of Invisibility, right?"
"Oh, I know. But I could outrun anything that came after me in life, and I'm faster now, especially with the wings."
Once more on cue, the ankle-wings flutter.
"...right."
So, what do you do?
"How are the wards looking, Briar?" you ask.
The fairy glances at you, then flits over to the wall and inspects some of the symbols concealed among the artwork.
"There's a definite build-up of mana in the system," she reports as she returns, "but not so much that it can't handle another fourth-circle spell. I wouldn't try casting another one after that, though," Briar adds. "Not that I think the ward's in any danger of breaching or collapsing, but better safe than sorry, right?"
You nod, and turn back to the Postman. "If you're ready, I'll cast the spell now."
He nods, and dons an expression of mild concentration. A moment later, you feel his presence mute itself in a way you've not encountered before. It's not gotten any weaker, but it feels less rigid, somehow, as if-
"Fire away, good sir," the Postman says.
Dropping your previous line of speculation, you proceed to cast the Spell of Undetectable Alignment. Unlike the other major magic you've worked today, it takes only a few moments, words, and a gesture to complete the spell. You feel your mana deplete further, but note that it hasn't dropped below three-quarters yet in spite of all the spells you've cast since coming to Lu-sensei's; what you've used up, you can easily replenish with a good night's sleep.
There is a faint shimmer in the air around the Postman, and he straightens up slightly, but the only other sign of your magic taking effect is how the fellow's aura loses that distinctive - and in your experience, unique - sense of light, warmth, and purity. The aura itself is still detectable, but there is nothing about it that says "celestial," any more than it says "demon," "sorcerer," "ki adept," or "spirit medium." It could belong to any creature of a certain level of power, and if you didn't already know the truth, you suspect you'd have a dreadful time trying to figure out who and what owned it.
"Nice work, Alex," Briar adds a moment later.
"Indeed," Lu-sensei agrees.
"Well then," the Postman says, "to whom will I be speaking on your behalf, young sir?"
"The church," you answer. "They seem like the most appropriate people to talk to about getting a copies of some holy books."
"True enough. Is there anything in particular you'd like me to pass on to them?"
The Postman nods at your words, once again dips his hat all-around, and then disappears in a burst of more golden smoke.
"Well," you say, extinguishing your circle of mana with a gesture. "That is that."
With the Postman on his way, you're about to leave when you recall the other letter you received in the last... twenty-four hours? Really? Huh. Feels like it's been longer. Anyway, you pull Kahlua's invitation to her birthday party out of your enhanced pocket and show it to Lu-sensei.
"...oh, hell."
"Should I take that to mean that you don't think it's a good idea to go, Sensei?" you inquire.
"That's one side of it," he admits. "Unfortunately, it's also not a good idea NOT to go."
You try to wrap your head around that. "Kahlua would probably be upset if I didn't show," you muse, "and if she's upset, her parents would probably get upset, too."
"Basically, yes. The Shuzens are one of the highest-ranking families in Japan, in either world, and like most rich and powerful people, they're used to getting what they want. Going against them is generally a bad idea, unless you have similar status and resources to call on." Lu-sensei re-reads part of the letter. "On the other hand, this IS a letter from Miss Kahlua, NOT from any of the adult members of her family. And she didn't have permission to send it."
"So showing up on their doorstep wouldn't go over too well, either," you guess.
"No, it wouldn't." Lu-sensei closes the letter and hands it back to you. "Given those two options, Alex, I'd take the latter - though I believe you said something about writing to the young lady in question?"
"Yeah, she has a talking bat waiting around town to take my response to this" - you wave the letter before tucking it away - "back to her."
"I would STRONGLY advise you to send your apologies, then. At the very least, try to fit in something about wanting to get HER parents' permission before you make serious plans about showing up. That will either bring her up short, or get you confirmation one way or the other." Lu-sensei gives you a direct look that threatens Enlightenment. "And even if the Shuzens do offer a formal invitation, you won't be getting MY approval to attend that party until after you've gotten your parents'. Am I clear?"
"Yes, Sensei!"
It's pretty clear where Lu-sensei stands in this matter - waaay the heck over on the "No" side. And his argument makes a few good points against you going to Kahlua's birthday. But... you still want to go. At least a little...
You walk home, largely ignorant of the warmth of the mid-afternoon sun as you ponder what to do about the letter.
As they say, there is no sense in putting off until tomorrow that which you can do today. At the same time, you feel that delaying this particular discussion just a little bit would not go amiss, given that your parents are likely still coming to terms with everything you and Lu-sensei spent the mid-morning and early afternoon telling them about the Moonlit World.
So it is that, when you return home, you explain to your folks that everything went well on your little Quest For Mail Service. You can cast spells safely at Lu-sensei's, you were able to find a particular spell that will get your letters to your friends in a very timely fashion, and as a bonus, it won't cost you so much as a penny, beyond paying for the paper, envelopes, and pencils that you use up.
They accept this news about as well as could be expected. Your parents were mostly concerned about your safety and, to a lesser extent, the cost; sending one letter overseas wasn't going to break the bank, and even one letter a month would have been doable, but you were talking about writing to a fair number of people on a regular basis. The fees DO add up, and your allowance wouldn't have covered it all.
The conversation ends abruptly when Zelda grabs your arm and gives it a pull, demanding that you stop talking about boring stuff and play with her.
You make a show of considering the request, though it's a bit more serious than you let on. You could use the time remaining before dinner to get a start on writing some of those letters, after all.
How can you say no to that adorable little face?
The answer is, you can't.
Whistling for Moblin - who trots into view a moment later, looking curious - you allow Zelda to drag you through the house and out the back door. You spend the hour and a half remaining until dinner playing various games. Catch almost immediately evolves into fetch, which suddenly becomes wrestling when Moblin decides he likes the ball too much to give it up. After convincing the dog to let go of the ball, and Zelda to let go of Moblin, you all take a short breather until Zelda decides that she wants to climb the tree - which really just involves you holding her up so she can grab the lower branches. Then it's time for tag. The rules are fairly normal, except that you and Moblin are not allowed to run, and Briar can only fly at a certain height and speed. This keeps it interesting.
Gained Animal Handling E (Plus) (Plus) (Plus)
Gained Elder King F
Gained Endurance D
Gained King of Beasts E (Plus) (Plus)
Eventually, you're called back inside to clean up for supper. As you wash the grass stains off your hands, you consider how to broach the matter of Kahlua's invitation to your parents.
You also ponder what, exactly, to say.
You decide to sit on the matter of the invitation a little while longer, leaving dinner conversation open to other topics. As it happens, neither of your parents seems to have anything that they're ready to talk about just yet, so the meal passes in relative quiet, broken only Zelda's happy chatter about her day and the occasional gentle admonition from the folks for her not to talk with her mouth full.
After dinner, it's your night to help Mom with the dishes while Dad semi-literally wrestles Zelda out to the living room. In the middle of drying a plate, you decide to go ahead and talk with your mother about Kahlua's invitation.
Taking a breath, you begin. "Hey, Mom?"
"Yes, Alex?"
"I got a letter yesterday from one of the kids I met in Japan."
The clink of soapy dishes and cutlery pauses. "Does this have something to do with that... imp... your father saw last night?"
"Huh? Oh, no. Well, sort of. Maybe?" You shake your head. "The letter was dropped off by a courier. It wasn't the imp; he was much better-behaved, and not a demon. But they did kind of arrive around the same time."
"...I see." There is a moment of intense scrubbing. "And what did your friend have to say in this letter?"
"Basically, she wants to invite me to her birthday party."
"Oh? Where does she live?"
"Japan, I think."
"Oh, Alex-"
"I know, I know; the plane tickets for the tournament were my birthday present and probably a chunk of Christmas besides," you say as lightly as possible. "But she said she'd handle the transport arrangements on her end." When your mother doesn't reply to that, you decide to press on. "And she was talking about inviting some of the other kids I met at the tournament, and, well... I just figured I should tell you about it before I sent a response."
"Yes, you were right about that." Your mother sighs. "I really don't know about this, Alex. I'm not comfortable with the idea of you going globetrotting before you've even turned ten."
She falls silent again, leaving you to wonder if you should say something more, or just leave her to think.