The hero glanced at Yumi, as if to ask whether she actually had a choice. Which she didn’t.
“I will continue the rituals,” she said, and the hero repeated it. “Please send the attendants back. And apologize to Hwanji that I addressed her directly.”
Liyun accepted this, and turned and slipped out, her clogged feet clomping on the stone as she went to search for Hwanji and Chaeyung. Yumi pulled her hands to her breast and bowed her head, trying to still her racing heart. She always felt so tense when Liyun was serving her. More so now. The woman was already convinced that Yumi was trying to dodge her responsibilities…and with good reason. Yumi was, she knew, a poor representative of the Chosen.
But the spirits had come to her for help. They had sent a hero. That meant something, didn’t it?
“I don’t get it,” the hero said. “She’s your servant?”
“Everyone serves me,” Yumi said softly, “so that I may serve the world. It is my honor and duty to call the spirits, and bind them to the service of the people of Torio. As such, the people are…deeply invested in freeing me from worldly concerns, so I may focus solely on my important obligations.”
“It’s not just the sky that’s weird here, then?” he said. “It’s the （lowly） people too?”
“I must say,” Yumi told him, bowing further, “that you are taking this well, hero. Many would insist this is nothing but a dream. Your adventures in your land must have been great and interesting for this experience to be mundane to you.”
“I wouldn’t call it mundane,” he replied. “I just…have experience with dreams. My name is Painter, by the way.”
“Painter,” she said, mouthing the word. “It means ‘one who paints’ in our language. That is interesting.”
“I…I think I said it that way, in your language. Which I appear to be able to speak and read. Anyway, it’s more a title than a name.” He thought a moment. “So…I’m going to have to pretend to be you? At least until we get this all sorted out?”
“Yes,” she said. “If we can make it through the early part of the day, we should be able to approach the spirits and find out from them what we are to do. Perhaps…perhaps then we will know how to explain this to Liyun?”
That didn’t seem likely to Yumi, but the hero—Painter—didn’t know enough to object. Instead he scratched his head. She found it odd, naturally, that the spirits had sent a youth of her own age as the hero. Perhaps their ages had to match for the transfer to occur. And likely a hero this young was more incredible, to have accomplished so much in only two decades of life.
“Those other women were offended,” he said, “when I took the food. Was it for them to eat, then?”
“They must feed you,” Yumi said.
“What? Like a baby?”
“You must be free,” she explained, “of all worldly concerns. Others will do everything for you that you need.”
“That…sounds extremely patronizing,” he said. “Maybe even humiliating.”
She blushed. Well, as she considered it, perhaps to an outsider it would give that impression. Never to her, of course.
Despite his reservations, Painter didn’t object when the attendants returned and set out their things. They’d prepared a new bowl of rice, and—with Yumi’s coaching—he did the appropriate ritual moves, letting them feed him bite by bite. Liyun haunted the doorway, though she normally wouldn’t come to Yumi until after morning prayers.
As the meal progressed, Yumi managed to calm herself. Painter took direction well. She would have expected a hero to be more arrogant, but he did as she asked. By the end of the meal, Yumi was feeling far more composed and confident. They could manage this. They could approach the spirits, and receive direction. All they needed to do now was…
Was…
Oh.
Oh no.
The attendants rose and fetched their fans. Liyun gestured for Painter to stand and leave.
“Okay,” he whispered to Yumi as she stood up with him. “I think I’m getting the hang of this. What’s next?”
“Next,” she said, “we need to take our ritual bath.”
“Ritual bath?” Painter said, thoughtful. That sounded nice. This place was much hotter than back home. A little refreshment would be welcome. “I suppose I could use a bath. It won’t be too hot, will it?”
“The ritual bath is in the town’s cool spring,” Yumi explained. “Each day I work in a new town, so I do not know the layout—but the spring should be upon high ground. While you are here, it will be reserved exclusively for you, hero.”
That did sound nice, particularly following what he’d been through. How could a simple meal be so taxing?
Unfortunately, his conscience was working on him. Painter had gotten himself into some trouble with issues like this—expectations from others, warranted or not—in the past. While thinking of those days brought pain, he’d sworn he would never get into that kind of trouble again.
Nonetheless, here he was. As the two attendants were out of the room, he found himself standing and staring at the strange ghostly girl with long hair. And words came out.
“You asked if I’m a great warrior,” he said. “Are you needing me to fight something, then?”
“I don’t think it will require that,” she said. “I don’t know, honestly. The spirits will need to be formed, and then asked. They said they’re trapped somehow; perhaps you can rescue them?”
“By forming them?” he said, relaxing a little. “Does this require painting?”
“Painting?” she said, cocking her head. “We call them. Through art.”
Through art.
Right. Okay. That he could do. Maybe even something other than bamboo. Was it true—had he been summoned to an entirely different world simply to…to paint? He should probably make sure, he thought. He looked to the girl to explain more, but…
She was just so hopeful. Emotions flowed inside him like blood from wounds, warm and sharp. How long had it been since he’d felt needed, wanted? He didn’t mean to lie. He wasn’t really lying, was he? Her spirits had chosen him, brought him here, perhaps to paint them.
In that moment, he wanted so badly to be the hero someone needed. To have a chance to make up for the mistakes of his past. To become something. It wasn’t arrogance, as some of you might assume. It was more desperation.
Deep down, Painter saw himself as a ruined canvas—the painting spoiled by spilled ink, then tossed into the trash. This was his chance to spread himself out and start a new drawing on the back. He seized that opportunity like a ravenous man at his first bowl of rice in days.
“Lead on,” he said, dropping his mysterious loner affectations and speaking with a heartfelt passion. “I’ll do it. Whatever it is you need, I promise, I’ll do it.”
Yumi gestured to the doors. The attendants and that awful woman—Liyun, Yumi had called her—had gone that way. He leaned out of the doorway and looked around, hoping he’d be able to walk this part rather than being carried or something. Curiously the building—indeed a wagon as Yumi had said—appeared to be floating. That was…odd. But not much more than—