The last song of the ancestors

Akachi said goodbye to Spin Bomb in front of Okafor's store. The girl asked where he was going so soon, but the young man replied that he was going for a walk. The scrap collector shrugged. He had work to do, and he wasn't going to act as the stranger's tour guide.

Adjusting his glasses, the young man headed towards the gate that led to the dump road. He couldn't believe he was seeing spirits. He was going to get this story straight. If Spin Bomb wasn't making fun of him, he probably had some unknown gift. If only he knew something more about himself than his name, the mystery would be solved more quickly.

Some of the collectors greeted him along the way. Some wore heavy gray raincoats, others blue industrial overalls. Their faces were hidden by gas masks or bandanas tied to protect their airways from the toxic gases. They all wore thick gloves and rubber boots.

An elderly man pushed a square wheelbarrow. Rust was peeling off the old paintwork, giving it the appearance of something in disrepair. The tire squealed with every meter. The old man noticed that someone else was walking towards the gate.

"Oh! It's you, Spin Bomb's friend. Thanks for saving that little match head. The slum was going to lose a very entertaining character, hohoho."

"No need to thank me, I don't know how I did it. I thought those animals were going to finish us off."

The young man put his hand behind the back of his head, smoothing out the strands of hair that shivered at the thought of the mutant hyenas' fangs.

"You seem to ignore the dangers of this place, my son. But if this old man has to give you one piece of advice, it would be this: keep your eyes open. Chrome Hill is controlled by a criminal faction. Don't defy them, but don't give in to their whims either. Otherwise, your path will be full of pain."

Akachi stopped walking and let the old man take a few steps forward.

"What, I thought you were going to the dump to collect scrap metal? I found the way you're dressed strange."

"I wasn't going to the dump. I came here to… reflect."

"This cemetery reminds me less of the deaths I've witnessed all these years, and more of the good times. The slum wasn't this desert of dreams. There was violence, it's true. But the way we resolved conflicts didn't involve shooting first and asking questions later. Arf! Stay alive, Akachi."

The old man dragged the wheelbarrow and followed the red gravel road.

The boy looked up the slope. He began to climb with his body leaning forward. He grabbed hold of a bush that stubbornly grew in the aridity, until he reached the part where the graves were. There were dozens of them.

He walked over to the crossed wooden sticks with their handles tied with ribbons. The one on the right had navy blue ribbons, the one on the left had red ribbons. He touched them. He felt a shiver run down his spine.

"BUUUUUUU!"

"Argh, damn! What a fright!"

Appearing behind the young man was the same boy he had seen in the graves wearing a sweatshirt and a headband.

"Sorry, kid. You should see your face now, bro. Wait, I didn't faint."

The boy took two steps back. That throbbing electric current ran through his body from top to bottom again. A strange sensation of heightened senses, of power filling his muscles, tissues and senses.

What is happening to me anyway?

"Are you Fenyang?"

"Wait a minute, besides seeing me, you know my name⁈ What do you know, bro, you really are a medium. Oh yeah! You're with Spin Bomb, that walking time bomb. Don't tell her, please."

"What's a medium?"

Fenyang dropped his chin. He couldn't admit that someone could see the soul of a dead person and not know how they did it. Even though he had no involvement with ancestral cults, even he knew what a medium's abilities were. However, he put things into perspective. In spirit, he had witnessed the changing of the times.

"You're a gonk, kid! How can you be something and not know what it means?"

"I only found out I was a medium now, give me a break, will you?"

"Our discussion will have to wait for another time, look who's arrived…"

The young man called Smoke was laughing a few meters away. Jarda was right next to him. He grimaced, not understanding what he was witnessing.

"Wait, were you standing there listening to me all this time?"

"We walk wherever we want, we run this fucking hill! The guy talks to himself, Jarda. There's every neighborhood nut who shows up here."

"It's my little friend Smoke. He seems to have a great interest in Fenyang. Could he be a relative out for revenge?"

"This asshole here? No way. This Akachi guy is crazy enough to throw rocks at airplanes. But just in case, we'd better finish him off."

"Our boss didn't tell us to take his life, but he didn't stop us from having fun. Tell you what, I'm going to shoot you three times with a rifle. If you manage to dodge, we'll let you go back to Spin Bomb bitch."

Fenyang stood next to Akachi. He could feel his spiritual mass pulsating. Even dead, he had never felt so alive. He grabbed the sticks and pulled out an astral version of the objects. He looked at Akachi and said:

"Kid, I'm going to teach you how to teach an asshole a lesson. Take the wooden sticks, they should still fit. Follow me."

Akachi picked up the wooden sticks from the floor. He reproduced Fenyang's fighting pose.

"Come on, Yard. The guy wants to fight me with two toothpicks."

"I don't want to hurt you"

Despite the loud laughter of his attackers, he didn't let himself get rattled. He didn't want to use his strength to attack them. He still felt the urge to make the pair swallow their pride. Fenyang's spirit and Akachi's spirit were in sync, and when they acted, they would do something amazing.