Spirit Conductor – CH 45

Chapter 45 – Back to Yashura Family (1)

Beneath the full moonlight, Shuro Yashura lamented for his family bad luck. Yulong, the old butler, poured a bottle of hard booze to his cup, obediently heard the middle-aged patriarch’s nonstop complaint.

“Haiishh. Look at Shira that brat. An accident just when a famous instructor interested in him. He was stone cold for days already,” he sighed, gulped his drink. “Now that Sir Instructor left without news, I’m afraid his luck spent dry by now.”

“I’m sure Young Master Shira will be fine in the future,” Yulong said.

“Yes. Yes.” Shuro Yashura nodded, yet couldn’t hide bitterness on his face. “Let’s hope that will be the case.”

At that moment, an ethereal body of a youth floated in front of them.

Shuro Yashura couldn’t see Shira in his current condition. But Yulong, for only a moment, was shocked. A smile bloomed on his face and his eyes wet with tears of relief.

“Yulong. What’s happened to you?” asked the family patriarch.

He wiped his eyes. “Oh. Sorry, Patriarch. Fireflies got into my eyes.”

“Fireflies indeed,” Shuro smiled. He poured a drink for Yulong and himself. “You’re a good person, Yulong. Let’s toss and drink to our heart’s content.”

Both of them drank till they passed out that night.

***

Shira Yashura held his breath as he entered deep his family household.

The places he saw all familiar. More and more memories burst onto the surface of his mind, thus he was dizzy for a moment. “This is Yashura Family…” he said.

He stood in front of the nostalgic door. Beyond was his bedroom, and his ethereal body passed the solid wall.

He saw his real body was lying unconscious on the bed, with his torso naked. A young woman tended him and bathe him with a wet towel. Old bandages scattered everywhere. Potions and other aids were put on stacked books on Shira’s bedroom table. Sometimes, the young woman would pour some green paste into clean water, and applied the thick medicine on his body. She bandage her younger cousin’s body with new bandages when she was done with all that.

The young woman’s brows arched and her face filled with sadness, yet she moved her hands patiently and her eyes firm and strong.

“Elder Sis Mila,” the watching ethereal Shira remembered the young woman. He sighed. If his purple-haired lover didn’t urge him to leave the sea, he might forget his entire family forever, and would never know the worried hearts who waited for his return back home.

He glanced around, found an open book. Mila Yashura didn’t see a quill moved by itself and scribbled something on the blank paper after dripped on blank tinted ink.

“Do something good to your family,” Shira wrote. After a moment of thought, he added, “a lot.”

He planned to leave something behind for him later, in case his current memories will be wiped out by the fisherman.

He thought if he could add some more messages. But a cute and lovely face appeared on his mind.

“She never told you her name. Ask her name. The young girl you met in the flower field,” he smiled.

The younger him may shy and hopeful but he already felt decades of loves and heartbreak. He planned to add some more messages about her likes and the things she hated, some killer tactics to advance and warnings if she was angry and things like that.

However, after he recalled the fisherman warnings, he decided to be cautious.

He scratches his head for a moment. Should he leave one last message?

“Beware of bastard spirit.”

After he wrote that, Shira put down his quill.

***

Somewhere. In another realm.

A boat floated calmly on the surface of the sea.

A regretful sigh was heard.

“I told you not to cheat the rule,” the fisherman shook his head.

Inside the realm of the strange sea, the dawn was approaching. And when the sun showed itself, it suddenly bright as the day was already afternoon.

The fisherman prepared his bait for his fishing rod. Then he swung the rod toward the empty sea. He stretched his back, waited for his bait was taken, which never did since the sea realm was created long, long ago.

Still, the fisherman was carefree. He took off his conical hats so he had something to fan his face. Because of that, one could see his face, which was exactly the same as the youth who stuck inside his realm.

The fisherman was Shira Yashura.

Back in the Badril Mountain’s replica. The peak of Badril Mountain.

The shadow held a dry bread for him to eat. He crumbled the bread and fed the crowding paper cranes. Because of that, one could see his real face, which was also the same as the youth who barged into his place.

The shadow was Shira Yashura.

When the shadow realized that the youth back then didn’t heed the fisherman’s warning, he laughed a rare laugh.

“Boy, how bold you are. Fortunately for you, there still me who watch your back.”

Back to Yashura Family household.

Shira’s bedroom.

The night was late. Mila Yashura cleaned the room and packed her things.

When she picked her book, she halted her busy movement and tilted her head. “Uh?”

She read an unfamiliar writing about do something to one’s family, about a female’s name, and a warning about spirit.

“Strange. I didn’t recall writing this,” Mila Yashura said to herself.

Mila was confused for a moment. But her eyes were heavy. She wished to bring herself to her bed and take a good sleep right now. So she finished packing her things along with the book, tiptoed her feet out the room, silently closed the door. “Get well soon,” she said, her gentle whisper lingered.

Not long after that.

The unconscious youth’s fingers twitched.

His trembled eyelids slowly opened.

***

Revision – a little typo fix. Google Doc messed up when my machine tried to sync offline changes as soon as it went online before.

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