10 Ofuda

It'd completely gone over my head, but magic exists in this world.

It's an obvious statement, but I hadn't really thought about what that means. Even as Primal Energy coursed inside me, even as I fought that Stray Devil, that fact hadn't really meant anything.

Then my eyes told me that astrology is a functioning art of magic, and the gravity of magic's existence hit me again.

I've just gone home from school. I'm sitting behind my desk, staring emptily at my notebook as thoughts run through my head. "Magic is real," is what I'd parsed from the moment I came into this world, but those three words aren't enough. It isn't simply 'magic' that's real, but the 'supernatural'. And that means a lot more.

I've been sitting still for the past several minutes, using my eyes as I scour through every nook and cranny of the supernatural world. It's painful, immensely so, but I've been in pain for the past month. I've gotten somewhat used to the pain.

I'm not looking too deeply into the information I'm getting. I'm just casting a wide net and trying to see just what mythical creatures exist in this world.

Although that 'net' I'm casting spans the entire world and different eras. That's still far too much information for my brain to handle, and I've already gotten a couple nosebleeds for my effort.

But I just can't stop. Because it's amazing! The sheer diversity of things that exists in this world is staggering. From Devils to Angels to Youkai to Vampires to Gods. From Magic to Sacred Gears to Senjutsu to Curses to Authorities. Beings and Powers and Legends living on the same chunk of rock, floating through a galaxy that hosts beings I'm afraid to even look at.

More blood falls from my nose, but my grin doesn't falter even a bit.

I stop my writing for a moment to wipe the blood away with the tissue I brought from the bathroom. I glance at the comprehensive list I've written for the past few minutes, all drawn from the information my eyes gave me and jotted down as concise points. There's over a hundred different beings written down, and that still isn't everything.

I stop myself from writing more, however. The things I've written down are the things relevant to this moment in time. Other beings and powers are either lost to the past or yet to come in the future. I can deal with that later. For now though,

I hum as I read through my notes. I can't deny the temptation to go out and find some mythical being that won't feast on my flesh, but I abstain myself. There's something much more interesting that I discovered. Smiling, my eyes hone in on a single word nestled between a hundred more.

Shintoism. One of Japan's most prominent religions. It's one of the first things my eyes picked up, and it's the one that intrigues me the most.

Of course, there's too much for me to go through in a single go. From Rituals to Practices to Kami. But I'm saving all that for later. The things I'm most interested in are Ofudas and Omamoris. They're both essentially handmade charms, made by priests or mikos and blessed by a Kami of some kind.

I'm no priest, and I certainly know no Kami, but it seems the Primal Energy coursing through my veins can act as a suitable substitute. Kami are, after all, any supernatural thing that the people venerate.

Primal Energy may be known to only me, but it's a well of energy that permeates from Earth, and there are more than enough people that worship the planet itself as a God. Of course, I'll need to learn how to expel Primal Energy from my body. The possibilities are enticing, but that'll have to wait.

Ultimately, I pull back with a small sigh. I close my eyes, and the outside world fades away as I begin prodding at the well of Primal Energy inside me, trying to exert control over the spring of strength inside my body.

I continue doing so for hours on end, only stopping when my mother calls me down for dinner. And even after that I return to the chair behind my desk, my eyes closed and my lips pulled to a frown as heat slowly builds in my chest.

(It's my eyes that first advised me to close my eyes during my attempts to wrangle control over my Primal Energy.

Had it not told me so, I would've seen the bright white lines glowing across my skin, looking almost like cracks are forming on my body.

I won't notice this until much later.)

By the time I open my eyes, it's morning again. And again, I haven't made much progress in controlling my Primal Energy. I mean, there is some progress, but the amount of time I needed to begin controlling even the smallest amount of energy decreased so marginally it's not worth talking about.

I turn to the clock on the wall. There's an hour before school starts.

I begin moving.

Breakfast is eaten, a shower is taken, the uniform is worn, my backpack is filled, and "See you later!" is said as I leave for Kuoh Elementary.

Minutes later, I come into my class to see that not much has changed. No more new students have joined this group of daring children I'm a part of. Aika's still sitting on her desk, gaze blank as thoughts run through her head. I sit by my desk, and I bring out my notebook and pen as I prepare for the day.

Not much happens today. School passes in peace.

Not just today, actually. A week passes in peace. And then a month. Then two.

Finals finally come, but even that doesn't put a dent in this streak of peace I'm experiencing. Photographic memory, courtesy of the Eyes of God. An absolute cheat. And even if I do encounter something I don't remember, I can easily use my eyes to find out the answer. Cheating? What's that?

And every afternoon in those two months are spent in my room, sitting in silence as I wrangle control over my Primal Energy. I think my parents are beginning to worry, but I convinced them by saying that I was 'studying'. Which isn't all that wrong, actually. It just doesn't quite mean what my parents are probably thinking.

Oh, and I got over 90 on all my finals. I could've gotten full marks, but I don't think I want to out myself like that.

My parents are, expectedly, overjoyed.

That aside, progress on controlling Primal Energy has been…surprising. It felt like I was achieving nothing at first. But then, after about a month of fighting for control, I felt like I was hitting a 'wall' of some kind. A metaphysical blockade of sorts, and I immediately knew that this was the golden opportunity I'd been waiting for.

So I trained day in and day out. I even started training during school, though I always made sure to take it slow lest I alert the rest of the class.

And finally, just a week before finals, that 'wall' shattered, and suddenly I gained control over Primal Energy. What once felt like squeezing rubber through a needle suddenly became as easy as turning a tap. I could call for my Primal Energy, and it could move to the location I asked it to without much wrangling.

Although it's still slow. I no longer need to fight for control, but moving Primal Energy is an entirely different problem. I can do it, it just takes a while. Although at least that's something I'm finding constant improvements day by day.

The one thing I've yet to even touch is how to expel Primal Energy from my body. Like, I can move my Primal Energy anyway I want, but expelling it out of my body still proves impossible. Getting my Primal Energy to pierce through muscle, bones, and skin isn't something I can do just yet.

But! I do have a workaround.

If I cut myself and then will my Primal Energy to head to that wound, I can hold some minor sway over the Primal Energy that seeped out of my body. It's hard, but if I stay close enough, I can keep tethering the Primal Energy that left me to my control.

Thankfully, distance shouldn't be an issue. After all, the reason I'm doing all this is to try and see if I can make Ofudas using my Primal Energy. I'll be hovering over them at all times.

Of course, that means I'll need to learn calligraphy first. I groaned when that realization first hit. And even now, days after I've graduated third year elementary, sitting down by my desk with a stack of paper by my side, I find groaning again.

It's…not anything substantial. My writing sucks, but I know I can do better. I can make the characters I write prettier, more coherent. But I just don't want to; it brings up too many memories of trying (and failing) to make my words not look like some lunatic's scribblings.

Then again, at least I have some motivation this time around. And I have around a month before school starts again.

I glance at the stack of paper, bought using the allowance I'd been building for the past couple months. It's not exactly the type of paper one would use to make Ofudas, but beggars can't be choosers. Nor do I have enough money to buy an actual ink and brush, but a pen works well enough.

A wry smile makes it to my lips, and I give my arms a quick stretch. I can already feel the phantom pains in my wrists, and there's nothing I can do about it.

So, in great annoyance and reluctance, I begin.

All my time is spent alone in my room, writing the same characters over and over and silently screaming once I realize it doesn't match the examples in the book I borrowed from the local library. From morning all the way to midnight, I'll be sitting by my desk, pen in hand and insanity building.

And time just flies by. At some point, the outside world just disappears from my mind. All that's left is this room, my desk, the pen in my hand, and the stack of paper next to me. Nothing more, nothing less.

Although that isolation briefly ends when my family wants to go to Osaka for a change. I was somewhat tempted to decline, but then I realized that I'd nearly turned my family down so that I could write more, and the sheer horror compelled me to immediately accept.

The three days we spend in Osaka are amazing, short as they are.

I return home, and the world disappears once more. Days and nights are spent on my desk, writing and writing and writing until I could sear those Japanese characters into my brain.

Any imperfections aren't allowed. And I do mean any. History is power, and it's through words that history is told. If the characters I draw are misaligned by even a little, the history of that word is muddled, and its power is dampened. That won't do.

Unfortunately, the month passes. School begins again, and half of the day is now spent in class. Nothing about my new grade really stands out in my mind. There are more students in class this time around, though still less than before the kidnappings. I don't recognize any of my classmates, and I don't mind.

Once school ends, I'll go home, and I'll be back to perfecting my writing.

Months continue to pass, my birthday comes and passes, and it really hits just how grueling this is. Perfectly drawing each Japanese character without a single flaw is nearly impossible, but I'm trying anyway.

I haven't gone insane just yet, though. I mix things up from time to time, instead training or reading when I grow too bored.

Then, just as summer break hits, I finally have the confidence to stop writing constantly. I've run through over three dozen pens, and my stack of paper has thinned considerably, but the result shows.

Of course, if I write normally, my characters would still be imperfect in some way. But if I were to go slowly, then it's nearly guaranteed that the characters I draw will perfectly mirror the ones printed on the dictionary.

So here I am now, sitting on my desk, hovering over a small slip of paper I'd cut earlier. I have my pen in hand, and a needle in my other.

I take a deep breath, and I prick my index finger. Blood begins to trail down my finger, soaking into the tissue paper I'd wrapped around my hand. Primal Energy starts leaking from the wound, and under my limited control, it begins flooding down onto the slip of paper on the desk. And during all that, my eyes glow alight, watching for any change.

I click my pen open, and I begin to write. I do so slowly, carefully. The characters float in my mind, and my hand perfectly transcribes them onto the paper.

And in amazement, I watch as the Primal Energy begins swirling into the paper, seeping into it and the ink my pen is leaving behind. Outwardly, nothing changes. But with my eyes, I see that the characters begin glowing a bright white.

Soon, it's fone. Slowly, I lift my hand away, and I marvel at the thing I've made.

This paper on my desk-, without a doubt, it's an Ofuda. I did it.

A grin lights up my face, and eagerly, I grab my needle and create a shallow cut on my palm. It immediately begins to bleed, and I begin pulling my Primal Energy away from the wound to stop it from healing. I then grab onto the Ofuda, and with a bated breath, I whisper,

"Heal."

The characters drawn on the Ofuda suddenly glows, and my grin grows as the paper suddenly disintegrates. Specks of white light rise from the disappearing Ofuda, and they swirl down towards the cut on my palm. The wound glows a gentle yellow, and I watch as the wound begins to rapidly close.

A cut that would've taken days to heal disappears in seconds.

(I treat myself with some ice cream after all that.

The artificial sweetness has never tasted so good.)