Arlo Sarsons - Wrath of Amaterasu

8) Welcome to the games!

If you'd told me a week ago, right before I climbed onto that rusty, smoke-spewing bus to St. Clare's, that I'd soon be dodging death at a secret godly boot camp, I would've laughed so hard, I probably would've inhaled my gum. Or maybe I'd just take a cautious step back, offer you my most polite please get help look, and slowly make an exit. But here we are.

The last few days? Total blur. Not the fun, carefree kind of blur either—the type where you're not sure if it's Tuesday or Thursday and you probably skipped a meal somewhere in between. My brain's been on overdrive, like a toddler hopped up on pixie sticks at a birthday party. Only this party's full of gods, monsters, and the complete dismantling of what I thought was my semi-normal life.

Owen, bless his endlessly patient heart, has somehow stuck with me through all the insanity, answering every single one of my poorly timed, occasionally ridiculous questions. And there were a lot. I threw, what, a hundred of them at him during a walk that felt like days but was probably twenty minutes tops. Time? Yeah, that's officially broken for me now. Anyway, the fact that he didn't chuck me into a tree for asking if I was going to spontaneously grow horns deserves some sort of medal.

Over the sweaty hours (and trust me, there were many), Owen tried to explain everything in his calm, "I have my life together" voice. Gods? Real. Monsters? Oh, very real. My ADHD-fueled hyperactivity? Turns out, that's not just a personality quirk—it's a survival mechanism. See, being a Shison (which, by the way, is a fancy word for godspawn) comes with its own set of "fun" perks. And by fun, I mean, "Congratulations! Your brain's been hardwired to keep you alive because mythical creatures have had you on their menu since birth." Awesome, right?

So, yeah. My inability to sit still? Apparently, that's just my inner survivalist kicking into gear. Or as Owen put it, "Most Shison don't survive past middle school. The ones who do? Their brains start working overtime, like yours." Great, my hyperactivity has an evolutionary purpose. Cool, cool. Not at all terrifying.

Looking back, I guess it does make sense. I've always been decent at sports—not amazing or anything, but I have this weird knack for dodging things. You know, like when dodgeballs fly at your face, and somehow, you're always just out of the way? That's me. Not NFL material, but I could probably hold my own in a pro dodgeball league. If that's even a thing.

But something about what Owen said keeps gnawing at me, like that one rat you swear is in the back of your pantry. Most Shison? They've been dealing with monsters since, like, age ten. Me? Nothing. Nada. Not so much as a creepy noise in the attic or a bump in the night. My life was completely normal—boring, even—up until a few days ago. Owen thought that was weird too. "Most Shison start seeing things around ten or twelve," he'd said, shrugging like this was all casual. "You're probably just a late bloomer."

A late bloomer? In the monster-hunting world? Great, that's just what I needed.

I've got this gut feeling something's off. No supernatural encounters until now? Feels wrong. Like, really wrong.

I flopped back on the thin, lumpy mattress Owen had led me to—my so-called "temporary home" until my godly parent claimed me. Whatever that meant. The place was eerily quiet, like even the air was holding its breath. The mattress sagged in the middle, like it had given up on life a long time ago, and to top it off, there was mold creeping up one corner of the room. Lovely.

Around me were these stone statues of gods I didn't recognize, all staring down like nightclub bouncers deciding if I was cool enough to get in. Spoiler: I wasn't.

Before all this, I couldn't tell you the first thing about Japanese mythology. I mean, I'm a kid from L.A., living in the UK—Japanese gods weren't exactly on the curriculum. But Owen gave me a crash course during our hike here. Turns out Amaterasu, the sun goddess, runs the show. Then there's Izanami, goddess of creation and death. I don't know who thought those two should go together, but it sounds like a serious HR mistake. Apparently, being their kid makes you prime monster bait.