Eye of the Needle: Into the Reikai

DeMain X: A Pot for Sprouts

The air became fresh and ripe, not unlike the atmosphere of a rich, bustling greenhouse market. Breathing it in brought a sense of accomplishment by itself, the very oxygen laid as if in the foundation of thousands of years of achievements in the making. DeMain found himself standing in a baseless bridge of conifer leaves and laid, sun-baked brickwork, perched on an outlook before a positively massive figure.

It was beautiful, yet not romantically so. The edifice before him was that of thousands of marble tablets and geometric hands laying and joining together in dozens of positions. Some locked at the pinkies, others conjoined to make hearts, and yet more were clutched in solid handshakes. They swirled and persistently rebuilt themselves like a massive living tower of animate stone, tapering gently as they rose up to DeMain's height. His perch was merely a floating speck amidst the Reikai, whereas this tower of spiritual might seemed to stretch infinitely down into the plane itself. It was impossible to gauge just how large this spirit was from the neck-down, the length descending into the bowels of the spirit world and past countless other spiritual domains. With DeMain's Witchsight, the spirit's form was boundless.

No, spirit was a demeaning term for this one. They had a regality and strength to them that surpassed even Heressa, DeMain knew that much. It would be insulting in the same way calling a five star chef a fry cook would be. He could only assume this was an Old Witch God, although why they had answered his plea eluded him.

DeMain's gaze slowly trailed upwards, his eyes following the shifting maze of stone hands and linked shapes until it arrived at the creature's head. Two wide eyes stood out among the durable patterns, each full of everblooming flowers in a myriad of colors. The centermost petals seemed to resemble the outer structure of the spirit's tower structure, a deep blue-green set which locked together as tightly as budding hydrangeas. Their face wasn't that of a human's, it merely ceased building upwards with small bundles of spiraling geometric growths tapering off in a half-head shape. They regarded DeMain quietly, and he realized he was still offering forward the soul of the Knight Spirit in his hand. Neither of them said anything to one another, and DeMain swallowed the tensions between them. Without a word, the soul was flung towards the Old Witch God's immaculate structure, and he was returned to Yolanda's side. It seemed he'd never left, but DeMain could see that his ribs and lung had been mended, along with the scrapes dotting his skin.

"You can just... do that?" DeMain asked in disbelief. Yolanda seemed befuddled at his confusion.

"Well, yeah. Oh, right. You haven't been here as long as I have. Okay, well, basically you just try your best with the rituals. I like to throw in the symbols I think represent what I want best, but I'm sure someone like Ethel who actually studies spirits could get what she wants more often. I think that's her job, doing it for clients. That or she makes tea... I don't remember."

"No fucking way it's that easy. Don't people usually throw in blood sacrifices or something?"

"Only if you want to attract spirits that like those sorts of things. A lot of spirits can be reasonable, especially if you offer things they like."

"And if I offer something they don't like?"

"I guess it could be insulting, but chances are another spirit would want to take it before them. There's a pretty big market for just about anything."

"...Teeth."

"Teeth?"

"Yes. Teeth. Who the hell would want teeth?"

"Mouth Spirit, maybe even the Nightmare Kami? I think a lot of nightmares have to do with losing your teeth."

"What's a Kami?" Is it just a stronger spirit?"