Chapter 5: Gist, Gifts, and Homecoming

"Section Chief Aina, I hear from our captain say you like tea, so I bring you small leaves—just small something. Na small thank you, madam, no vex if e no reach."

For Celestial Council Lower Realm Visa Bureau, Qualification Review Office, outside Section Chief Aina’s cave for First Management Section.

Sun Zikora carry box of tea leaves, stand small nervous for door, greet the person wey sit behind tea table.

"Ah, come inside. Captain Chijioke don tell me. No need bring anything."

Sun Zikora carry the gift box, clean himself with spell, raise robe, enter.

With dull sound, he drop the tea box for table.

Sun Zikora talk wetin carry am come: he wan go lower realm visit him hometown.

Section Chief Aina frown small, pick the spiritual treasure 'Fire Coral Light Gauze Smoking Pipe' wey dey near am. She take deep breath, talk, "Brother, this one bend the rules small o."

Sun Zikora quickly bring out another paper, give am.

Section Chief Aina collect am, face no change, open am, see big deposit slip from Heaven and Earth Bank hide inside.

She close the documents, talk serious, "Brother, I go help you run am. But abeg, no kill anybody for lower realm."

Aina’s voice sharp, but I see small smile for corner of her mouth. Her office full with smell of old tobacco and incense—typical for our side. She knock her pipe two times on the table, eyeing me like aunty wey dey warn stubborn nephew: "No go disgrace me for my office, Zikora." I bow small, whisper thank you in low voice, the way elders expect. Some rules you bend, but you must show respect for gatekeepers—every realm, same thing.

Immortal Realm—Palm Grove Great Realm (na lower grade great realm, under am get one thousand five hundred small realms)—Umuola Small Realm—Western Wasteland.

As I stand for top of Western Wasteland highest peak, dey look the endless desert, I just dey emotional.

Fifty thousand years—I think say everything for don change finish, but surprisingly, e never really change like that.

Old memories start to dey show for my mind.

In one blink, my body flash, I appear for busy ancient town.

Na here the dream start.

"You hear? Sun family last born start to draw spiritual energy at just eight years old."

"Ah, Sun Zikora build foundation at eighteen. Sun family go enjoy another two hundred years."

"What? Senior Sun don become Elder's Obi True Person?"

As Sun Zikora dey waka, memories dey rush come for him mind.

He sigh deep, find one teahouse, order tea. Past na past; to dey remember am too much no good for person mind. Before, I no dey like this, but since I join Celestial Soldiers, the boring life just dey make me miss old times.

The dusty streets no change. Market women still dey call customers, small children run barefoot, chasing goats, laughter everywhere. I catch the smell of suya mixing with burning incense. The teahouse owner, old Madam Udo, recognize my face—her eyes widen, but she just bow slightly, serve me in silence. The table I pick still get my name scratch under, from years back. I run my fingers over the mark, feeling both pride and sorrow, my heart heavy like rainy season cloud.

"Big black Masquerade Mother don show for Western Hills. I hear say her juju strong pass ogbono soup—nobody wan near her at night. Some Foundation seniors don die for her hand."

"What? Even Foundation no fit fight am?"

"Yes o, I hear say dem don report am to Zixia Clan. No know if Elder's Obi True Person go show."

"Hope say Zixia Clan go handle am, else we no go fit go gather herbs for Western Hills again."

Sun Zikora just dey listen, e no even send.

The two people continue:

"I hear, just hear o, say long, long time ago—like fifty thousand years ago—one cultivation family dey there, and dem get one special person. Maybe na from there the black Masquerade Mother get her treasure, na why she strong."

"Abeg, we dey drink tea, no be palm wine. Which kind story be that? Fifty thousand years—you no fit remember last year talk, na fifty thousand you go remember?"

"Wait, the person wey just dey drink tea for that table nko? Where e go? I see am just now."

"Your eye dey deceive you—they don pay and waka."

The low gossip of the tea house wrapped around me like wrapper, soft and familiar. Some old men dey play ayo at the corner, pausing every few minutes to throw one side-eye my way. I finish my tea, drop cowrie shells as tip, and step out before anybody fit call me back. For this Umuola, news still fly faster than breeze.