Arlo Sarsons - Wrath of Amaterasu

9) A conversation with a dead horse

Don't get me wrong—I love a good game of tag as much as the next guy. But tag with crossbows? Yeah, that's where I'd tap out if I had a choice. Which, in case you were wondering, I didn't.

I tore through the forest, dodging low-hanging branches like my life depended on it—because, well, it kinda did. Every crack of a twig under my sneakers sounded like a gunshot in the dead silence. I might as well have been wearing a neon sign that said "Hey, I'm over here, come shoot me!" Not my brightest moment.

And then there was that sound behind me. That spine-chilling click, followed by the deadly thwip of arrows slicing through the air. Nothing says "run faster" like being chased by a rain of medieval weaponry.

I didn't even know my legs could move this fast. Sure, I did track for like... a week in middle school, but this? This was like someone hit fast-forward on my life. If Usain Bolt had ADHD, maybe he'd get it. My body was doing its own thing, dodging rocks, roots, and whatever else this forest decided to throw at me. It was like I had a cheat code for parkour, except I definitely didn't remember unlocking that skill.

I whipped left, cutting through a narrow gap between trees, breath coming in ragged gasps as I shot into an open clearing. And instantly regretted it.

Well... crap.

Wide open space. No trees. No rocks. No cover. Just me, standing in the middle of the world's easiest shooting range. I might as well have laid out a picnic blanket with a sign that said, "Free target, come get me."

I glanced over my shoulder, expecting to see my pursuers crashing through the trees, arrows ready to turn me into a human pincushion. But... nothing. No movement. No snapping branches. "Did I lose them?" I wondered, my heart slowing just a little, the hope creeping in.

WHISTLE.

An arrow zipped by so close, it practically gave me a haircut. I barely had time to blink before another one whizzed past my ear, and I dropped to the ground like a rock. A third arrow slammed into the dirt where my chest had been a heartbeat ago.

Panting, I scrambled back to my feet, legs shaky like I'd just run a marathon. Which, considering the amount of running I'd done today, wasn't far off. But there was no time for a break. Not with arrows flying and some psycho aiming them like it was their day job.

I was really starting to think no chores for a week wasn't worth getting skewered.

*

The sharp blast of the horn cut through the chaos, jolting me back to reality. I turned to see Sensei Nitta, flanked by a sea of excited faces. She wore a traditional Japanese robe now, deep crimson with golden trim, the kind you'd expect to see in some ancient ceremony. She held up her arms, silencing the crowd.

"Gather round, gather round, my young Shison!" Her voice echoed across the courtyard, effortlessly commanding attention. "The first game is about to commence!"

A cheer went up, louder than anything before. Kids started hopping in place, grinning from ear to ear like they'd just won the lottery.

"The first event..." Sensei paused for effect. The tension was thick enough to cut with a sword. Even the rowdy Ebisu kids had shut up, and trust me, that never happens.

"Will be tag between Team Kannon and Team Bishamon!"

Another cheer, even louder this time. People were screaming, laughing, some were already huddling to plan strategies. Meanwhile, I was just standing there, wondering how the hell we were supposed to compete with the kids of one of the gods of war.