Hoaran's Shamanism Lesson (5)
It had been two days since I became Hoaran's disciple.
Two days since that white-haired woman ambushed me.
Before diving into proper shamanism lessons with Hoaran, we started with something closer to a theoretical class on what shamanism even was.
Like the kind of history of the craft you learn before the main coursework.
Hoaran said to me,
"Prayer is desire, it is so. Wind, wish, longing... Yearning and praying. Praying for what one lacks—that is the beginning of prayer."
A person freezing in the cold would yearn for a warm ember.
A starving person with an empty belly would yearn for food to fill it.
Like that, Hoaran said, it began with desiring what one didn't have.
She taught me that the origin of prayer started quite literally from origins.
Paintings on cave walls, done in hopes of abundance—they were a form of prayer.
Praying for a sick child to recover was also a form of prayer.
Offering sacrifices while begging for something—that too was prayer.
The history of prayer stretched back to ancient times.
Pleading with beasts, with nature, with all the natural phenomena that were beyond understanding back then.
That was the start of it.
"Yet desires are humble, it is so. Wishes are frail, and longings are but fleeting."
Pleading to something other than oneself—that's what it meant.
In the end, the only one who could seize something was oneself.
What you could get by begging others was humble, frail, and fleeting at best.
Paintings on walls were just paintings.
Wishing for a sick person's recovery was just a wish.
Offering sacrifices in prayer was just a prayer.
"Thus, ancient prayer was doomed to fade, it is so. For mere yearning and pleading solved nothing—prayer remained a simple comfort."
Abundance wouldn't come from just wishing for it.
Diseases wouldn't heal from mere prayer.
Sacrifices alone wouldn't fulfill a prayer.
That was the nature of the fleeting.
Those who yearned for abundance did so because they lacked it—and they died clutching their empty bellies.
Those who prayed for a sick child to recover ended up burying that child in the earth.
The hopes of those offering sacrifices rarely came true; that's why they prayed in the first place.
And yet, those who yearned never vanished.
Those who wished never disappeared.
Those who offered fleeting prayers never went away.
No matter how many thousands of times the world changed, people like that would never cease to exist.
Even if it was just simple comfort they gained from yearning and praying.
Such people always existed.
"However, faith alone was insufficient—insufficient, thus, those who sought to fill that lack arose."
Because mere yearning, wishing, and longing weren't enough to achieve anything.
They infused it with will.
It started small and trivial.
Things that were nearly impossible, things that couldn't be achieved by mere wishing.
Yet, in the end, miracles were wrought.
"Infusing will into what should have been a fleeting wish, grasping it, giving it form. Bestowing meaning upon the intangible that was once merely yearned for, granting it shape, and breathing power into it. Creating a force capable of manifesting one's desires through sheer will. With will alone, one touches the world's first principle. Only then does it become shamanism."
And that was it.
"That is the first principle of shamanism you must learn. The principle of the 'Heart'."
Like with most theory lessons,
even after hearing everything Hoaran said, I barely understood any of it.
So...
"What the hell am I supposed to do? Meditate or something?"
She went on about will and shit, but how the fuck was I supposed to do that?
"Hm, try listening to this first."
At my words, Hoaran lightly flicked her hand.
A small stone flew toward me.
Listen? To that?
I didn't know what was going on, but anyway, the moment I grabbed the stone hovering right in front of me as instructed,
"Ugh...!"
I barely managed to hold on without dropping it to the ground, hit by a sudden overwhelming weight.
"Oh ho, you didn't drop it on the ground."
A tiny stone.
The kind you could cup in your palm with room to spare—yet it felt like hoisting two or three full sacks of rice.
I said,
"What the fuck is this thing?"
Struggling to lift the stone that kept trying to sink lower, I asked, and Hoaran giggled as she replied,
"A Fox Stone, also called a fox orb, it is so. A treasure rare even in this lady's world, one that can be lifted by will alone."
"Fox... orb...?"
Hoaran was a gumiho.
Not some werebeast foxkin— a yokai, in that vague category.
Anyway, the important part was that a gumiho was still a fox.
And this stone was called a fox orb.
For some reason, that put me in a bit of a mood.
"Focus. The Fox Stone is sinking, is it not?"
The moment I got distracted, it felt heavier, pulling downward—I lifted the fox orb again.
"Nngh..."
Fucking heavy as balls.
"First, let's start by lifting that Fox Stone over your head. Holding it aloft for one dagyang—that is your initial training."
One dagyang.
Like... 15 minutes or so?
Hold up what felt like at least 100kg effortlessly for 15 minutes?
This was some seriously hardcore shit.
"No way... you're seriously telling me to hold this for 15 minutes?"
"Indeed, it is so. 'Tis the foundation of foundations—do not whine so."
No.
Whatever.
If she said do it, then do it.
Following Hoaran's instructions, I put everything I had into lifting the fox orb over my head.
"Kh, ugh...!"
Fuck...
The higher I lifted it, the heavier it felt. No, it was getting heavier for sure.
It was manageable around my chest, but by the time it reached collarbone level, it felt twice as heavy as before.
At this rate, forget 15 minutes—I might not even get it overhead.
Glancing down after lowering the fox orb again, I saw Hoaran—who'd given me this task—pulling out some book from god-knows-where and reading it.
Her tails swaying gently.
She looked totally absorbed in her book; no hint of a tip there.
Or maybe...
Maybe no hint was needed from the start.
...What had Hoaran said again?
I recalled what she'd told me.
Will.
She'd said at first that will was why mere, fleeting 'prayer' could become 'shamanism.'
And...
The first principle of shamanism, the 'Heart', was tied to that will too.
After that...
What'd she say about the fox orb?
Right... that it could only be lifted by will alone. Something like that?
But what the hell even was 'will'?
I'd never thought about that shit in my life.
Telling me to do it out of nowhere with zero advice? That wasn't like Hoaran.
Even Lilith wouldn't pull that.
Which meant she figured I didn't need more guidance.
The answer was in what I already knew.
In what she'd already told me.
After racking my brain for a while,
I slowly let my hand drop from the fox orb.
Lift it up.
Just willing it so.
If my guess was right, the fox orb should float up even without my hands. If it was something lifted by will alone, then assuming I had to use my hands was pointless to begin with.
And...
The moment I fully let go of the fox orb—
Thud...!
It smashed into my foot.
Hard as fuck.
"Fuck my mom...!"
Shit, that fucking hurt...!
But I did catch a glimpse of it trying to float up for an instant.
This method was right.
It was right, but...
"Grrgh..."
That didn't change the fact that I'd dropped it. The pain shooting through my foot had my whole body twisting.
But thanks to that, I realized something else: compared to when I'd lifted it myself, the pain from it dropping on my foot was way lighter.
Meaning that perceived 100+ kg was bullshit.
It had some weight, sure, but if it was really that heavy, my foot would've been crushed, not just aching.
"Alright... let's do this."
Once more, I focused on the fox orb.
Float.
With will.
With will alone.
Lifting the fox orb rolling at my feet.
Hummm...
And it started to rise.
Whoa, it actually worked.
I wasn't some telekinetic freak, but watching the fox orb lift itself up on its own, I couldn't help but marvel—
Thud...!
It dropped again, this time smashing my pinky toe.
"Aaaargh...!"
Mom, fuck, for real.