The Witness of Usehjiki

Three

Osa pushed open the flap at the back of the truck and jumped out, into a wide clearing at the center of a large forest with thick-trunked trees and bushy branches.

The clearing she was standing in was the only spot in the Imatong forest where sunlight touched the ground. Her truck was parked beside a grey truck with an uncovered back, filled with camo-colored boxes.

She walked around the truck to the front, noting that the hole that was dug into the ground was twice the size it had been before she traveled to Izecha. It was deeper and the contraptions that had been built to keep the floor from caving in extended further in, too.

Osa took her bag out of the truck but opted to leave her jacket in there. Imatong was hot, this time of the year and she was sure the tunnel was going to prove even hotter.

"I'll call you," Osa said to the driver as the man nodded and began reversing into the clearing.

As she stepped into the tunnel, sand drifted down on her. She placed her hand over her eyes and kept going, allowing the downward slope of the ground to pull her faster.

"About time," another woman said, as soon as Osa walked into a large, round room that was brighter than the tunnel.

The room was held up by pillars that supported a big tarp, which kept the sand from falling. Bulbs hung from the ceiling, along with wires. There were three chairs scattered around the room. Two had clothes in them while one was empty. At the center of the room was a lone, wooden table with papers and books.

Standing by the table, a grey-haired woman smiled at Osa. Her mother, her confidant, her mana. The woman was freckled with age and a pair of glasses balanced on her nose. She stood a few inches shorter than Osa as she opened her arms wide.

Osa hugged her, breathing in the presence of the woman as she rocked them both from side to side.

"O te nu Mana," I missed you, my mother.

"O te nuoh," Mana said, running her fingers through Osa's unruly hair. "Not taking care of yourself?"

"Mana, you've been sleeping in a cave. You can't judge me."

"Where is it?" Mana asked.

Osa smiled and dropped her bag on the table. When she took out the key and handed it over, Mana patted her on the back in pride. Since the creation of the keys, every generation of the Oseki had borne theirs with a certain amount of reluctance that Osa had somehow inherited. It was wrong for them to have the keys in the first place, but there was nothing they could do about it but complain to each other.

It wasn't until Osa's father met her mother. He'd spent months looking for a tota, a witch who studied and created totems using blood ties, spells, and Jiki artifacts. She'd been the missing link to their clan's uneasiness. She'd studied the key embedded in their uncle's back. She'd researched it, broke through every barrier, and tracked down the particular families in the other clans that had key bearers.

This moment, their family's success, was all down to their mother's ingenuity.

"The prodigal daughter arrives," another woman walked into the room, carrying a heavy carton. She would have been a replica of Osa, if it weren't for her broader shoulders and scanty ponytail. She had on a blue sweater and a pair of sweatpants that didn't match.

"Oh my god, Ifiso," Osa exclaimed, running to hug her. "How long has it been?"

"Too long," Ifiso gave Osa a loud, exaggerated kiss on the cheek. "Did you get it?"

"Is grass green?"

"Sometimes, it's not," Ifiso replied, eying the key in her mother's hand as she nodded at it. "Nearly lost your chance there. The pastor turned forty, two days ago."