Shaman King -

The boy finally looked at him, his dark eyes brimming with a calm, effortless warmth. "Sure there are. Look closer."

"Hey there," the boy said, waving lazily without looking down. "The stars are going to be great tonight. You should sit with us." Shaman King

Manta froze. Slowly, he turned his eyes toward the top of the hill. Outlined against the massive, blood-red sun sat a young boy. He wore an unbuttoned school uniform, a pair of large orange headphones around his neck, and a peaceful expression that didn't belong in a graveyard. The boy finally looked at him, his dark

Manta watched from the sidelines, finally understanding the true power of his laid-back friend. Yoh Asakura's real strength wasn't his massive furyoku or his legendary samurai spirit. It was his heart. "The stars are going to be great tonight

"You're... you're a shaman!" Manta gasped, his voice cracking.

Then, he heard it. A soft, melodic humming floating through the chilly evening air.

Beside him, the spirit of a legendary 600-year-old samurai materialized, bowing low. "At your side, Master Yoh."