The Fifth Kind: Awakening

Chapter 1

Japan, Hitachi Province, 1803

The boy scampered along the beach, his tanned bare feet splashing through the receding waves. His gaze, sharp and alert, was fixed along the shoreline of Harato-no-hama—a launch point for many of the fishermen in the small village where he lived.

For as long as he could remember, the locals had refused to use his given name, instead calling him Taneuma, a nickname meaning “seed of imagination”, a title he had earned on account of the fanciful stories he often told. Many of these tales he wove together from odds and ends he’d found washed ashore. Driftwood covered in seaweed became a “sea monster’s maiden”. Half-empty bottles of sake, discarded by careless sailors, contained secret messages from exotic lands.

On this particular day, Taneuma watched as a bank of dark clouds appeared on the horizon, accompanied by the distant flash of lightning. A storm was approaching.

Soon, the water too began to roil, churned by the growing winds far out to sea. Taneuma was preparing to hurry home, disappointed at the prospect of leaving empty-handed, when he spotted a strange object bobbing in the water. The young boy grew still, his eyes straining to make sense of the sight before him. It resembled two silver rice bowls set rim to rim, forming something like a sphere. A short lip ran along the center and it seemed to be blinking, red and green. Could he be seeing a reflection from the sun? He scanned the skies above him. The sun, however, had already disappeared behind a blanket of storm clouds.

He wondered whether it could be a fishing boat from one of the nearby villages, and yet it was unlike any he’d ever seen before. As the object grew closer, Taneuma saw it had a row of darkened square patches that looked like windows. The waves were tossing it up and down, in and out of his sight.

Suddenly, the object became still, the waves crashing against it like an outcropping of rock. As though suddenly aware of his presence, the object turned and began cutting through the water, heading directly for him.

Rooted in fear, Taneuma realized he’d been wrong about the object’s size. It wasn’t at all like the local fishing boats he’d seen come and go his entire life, occupied by one or two men at a time. This was many times larger. In fact, he was now quite certain this was even bigger than the home he shared with his parents and three siblings.

Taneuma struggled to wrench his feet free, but his legs were paralyzed, his eyes locked on the approaching metallic sphere. It blinked red and green as it barreled onto the beach, carving a deep furrow in the sand, before coming to an abrupt stop not ten feet from where he stood. Pelted by clumps of falling wet sand, Taneuma raised his hands, crying out with fear.

The object was close enough that he could have hit it with a rock, but he knew better. Instead, he simply watched, mesmerized by the darkened panels as they flashed red and then green in rapid succession.

Then came the whooshing sound and for a moment, his vision was obscured by a cloud of green mist. Waving it away, he saw that a figure was now standing beside the sphere.

A woman.

She had long dark hair, her skin golden brown. She looked strangely beautiful, her features so perfect he couldn’t help wondering if she was wearing a mask.

And yet everything else about her was foreign and puzzling. Instead of a kosode—a simpler version of a kimono, but with shorter sleeves—she wore a shiny and tight-fitting bronze-colored suit. Positioned over her left breast was the emblem of a double-headed serpent.

She regarded him intently, her gaze pulling him toward her and repelling him all at once. Her lips were moving and from them came a soft melodic language he had never heard before. It sounded like music, but she didn’t appear to be singing.

In her right hand was an ornately carved wooden box. She tapped something on her forearm. Suddenly her voice changed. It was just as melodic and just as garbled. But Taneuma swore he caught a word or two of what she was saying.

“… need… you…”

There was a flicker in his eye. When she caught it, she tapped again and suddenly Taneuma understood exactly what she was saying.

“I need your help.”

•••

Taneuma stood, shocked and bewildered, his mouth hanging open, flashing the gap where his front teeth once sat.

“Me?” he asked, certain she had the wrong person.

Glancing over her shoulder, the woman came toward him, the box held out before her.

“Keep this safe,” she said, a pleading quality to her melodic voice. The smooth skin around her eyes was wrinkled with sadness.

“But what is it?” Taneuma asked, taking the heavy box from her, struggling under its weight.

“Something you must keep until I return.”

“I’m not sure,” Taneuma said, his thoughts filling with doubt. Lactic acid was starting to tingle inside his biceps.

The woman glanced behind her again. The clouds were drawing closer and from out of them emerged a light that blinked like a distant star. It seemed to be heading toward them.

The box was secured with a metal lock. Taneuma shifted his weight to open it.

But the woman laid a hand over his. A warm burst of energy emanated from her palm. “You are the box’s guardian now, young one. But you must never look inside. Ever.”

Taneuma’s eyes grew wide and fearful.

“Promise me.”

“I promise,” he replied.

“Now go,” she said, a hint of desperation in her voice.

“But what must I do with this?” he pleaded, not entirely certain he could handle the responsibility.

She straightened her back and tapped her wrist. “When the time comes, you will know.”

A second later, she vanished, and in the blink of an eye the sphere followed suit, fading into nothingness.

Taneuma stared down at the beautiful box in his hands, apprehension and disbelief coursing through him in equal measure. And with that he hurried home, eager to outrun the approaching storm, trying to make sense of what he’d just experienced.