HP: Spirit Talker

— Well? — The woman's tone was judgmental and irritated, her eyes flashing.

— Well what? — I made an uncomprehending face, but I felt and knew that there were enough mistakes to go around.

The woman glared at me a little longer, got up from her chair, came over and poked me in the side. A sharp pain shot through my ribs. I couldn't keep my face still and grimaced.

— How long were you going to keep quiet about this? — The irritation in his voice became clearer.

— Always? — I try to put on a naive face, but I see it's not working. — Two or three more days and my ribs will be intact. — I shrug, like it's no big deal.

— Yes, I've seen your side covered with seals. — My mother nods at me in a serious, judgmental, threatening way. — Couldn't you have told me? It's easy to heal with magic and potions!

— I don't know... — I looked away involuntarily. — There, — he waved his hand to the side. — I got a kick in the ribs, put a seal on it, and forgot about it. And then I thought — let it go — it doesn't hurt, it heals, why bother? — I shrugged again and a sharp pain shot through my side, probably because the seals were broken.

We were now in a huge temple mansion, in a large room furnished in a Western style. That is, a high oval table, sofas, armchairs, chairs, a carpet on the floor, thin candlesticks with magic lamps. The hostess is prancing around somewhere, and we're waiting for her for some important conversation.

As far as I know, my mother has something to tell us, and so does the hostess. I wonder how long we will have to wait? I look at my mother — she's turned away from the window, thinking about something — her reflection in the window is tense and focused. I covered my eyes and went into a light meditation. The magic flowed habitually in waves through my body, spilled out into my aura, from the aura into the world, merging for a brief second.

The world smeared, took on gray tones, became transparent. Immediately, ghosts, webs of charms and spells manifested in droves, ghostly, barely perceptible threads in the air and on the ground, habitually writhing. One in particular stood out, a bright golden one, around which a steady light shone and sparks of pure gold scattered. I wanted to touch it, stroke it, and... I turned away sharply. Why am I so attracted to her?

Again a jolt of magic washes away the obsession and I turn to the golden line. A step through the world of the third plane of probability, and I see the translucent ghost of the landlady quietly entering the room. I open my eyes. It's a little over fifteen minutes, still plenty of time.

— Mom, can you help me?

The woman flinched at the voice and turned around with a silent question, watching me take off my shirt, my jacket already on the arm of the chair. Revealing my bruised blue side. Well, that's right — the seals had gone bad — a couple were torn, and one had a burned hole in it. I started to remove the broken seals when my hands gently pulled back the hot, thin fingers and my mother took over. The seals were removed in record time, but the new seals were applied much more slowly — it was obvious that my mother had been doing this for a long time and not much else.

— You haven't used gaskets much, have you?

— Seals aren't my specialty. — After a short silence, the woman spoke and finished. — Everyone trained with them, but I didn't use them in battle, and wounds were treated with special bandages and potions, less often with channeled magic.

— I see. — I buttoned my shirt, and my mother carefully adjusted my collar as only a woman could. — I was trained more in the Omyouji way, so I'm used to seals, so direct magic is unfamiliar to me, and they didn't teach me healing magic... — I said in a calm voice, even though I realized how much I still had to learn. What good is it when all I used in the battle in the mansion was a sword and seals, and a few artifact wands burned when the mage with the combat rosary barrier closed. Reflexes, damn it...

— Don't worry, — I began to stroke my head, which sent me into a stupor. — There's still time, nothing irreparable has happened.

I could only nod in response, the words just stuck in my throat from such a simple, but for these years forgotten feeling of family and care. It felt warm and cozy inside. Unusual. I sat down at the table in silence, and my mother sat next to me, holding my hand gently. The hostess saw us in this state: a woman with a warm maternal smile and a teenager with a strange expression on her face. The girl hummed and sat down at the table as well, but before she could say anything, Hoshino Junko stood up.

— Tenno-sama, — the woman bowed deeply and respectfully. — My fault, but the sudden changes in my life, mine and my son's, distracted me and I forgot. — The priestess listened calmly, outwardly, but inwardly she was expecting bad news. — I should have returned yours right away. I'm sorry.

The woman bowed once more and touched the ring on her finger, which had appeared a moment before. The priestess was quite surprised by this, for she had sensed the artifacts on these people — the pocket pendant on the boy, the spiritual Tantos on the woman, and several active seals that healed the boy.

The priestess decided to put the question of the artifacts she couldn't smell aside for later. First, a sword appeared in Junko's hands, and a moment later, a second sword appeared. The priestess' tension was noticeable, but the woman calmly put the katanas aside. And then the priestess' world turned upside down with a thunderous boom from the sky. Without noticing when, the girl found herself on her feet, eagerly studying the fan.

There could be no mistake — both the scent and the echo of magic confirmed it. The girl lifted her orange eyes with a thin pupil to the woman who had managed to place an ornate hairpin and a gorgeous peach-colored holiday kimono on the table. The priestess' skin was hot, and her hands cradled her mother's kimono. How many years had she longed to know something about her missing mother? How long had her spies and thieves dug, but found nothing?

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