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20141109

Invocation 4

It is not proper Shinto practice either, though there is a striving towards kotodama in his effort, to touch the soul of the language, the words he is spelling, the spell he is casting. 

The strange samurai cult he had found on his vision quest had taught him some of their magic along with their martial arts, their discipline, their honour, their language. He was no samurai, not even a proper ronin, because he was gaijin, he was an outsider (again?) - the ways of his teachers were not his own, he could not take them, lay claim to them, as he had once taken so much, the raids, the pillaging. The samurai had given him their knowledge freely, and greater than any of the philosophy, the techniques, the sword forms, they had taught him the power of giving.

The robes he sometimes wore were to help remind him of that. And the name they had called him, with no explanation - "bright beginning" - he kept because it was who was was trying to be, or perhaps the path to who he really was... It was hard to understand. It was all so very hard to understand. Yet it all kept happening.

Akimoto also knew that according to most of the histories of most of the worlds he had visited with Max that as much as three hundred years separated the time of the vikings with whom he raided and the samurai with whom he trained... And that roughly three times as long had passed between that time and when he awoke on the subway... What else could you do but try and make magic?

He turns to the south and shapes the next rune with his blade.




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