Shaman King Instant

Ren stared at the outstretched hand in utter disbelief. No one had ever shown him kindness after a battle. Slowly, hesitantly, the proud Tao heir took Yoh's hand.

"You're... you're a shaman!" Manta gasped, his voice cracking. 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. Ren stared at the outstretched hand in utter disbelief

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. "You're

The orange glow of the Tokyo sunset bled through the clouds as Manta Oyamada scurried past the cemetery. He was late, his heavy briefcase slamming against his leg with every frantic step. He hated taking the shortcut through the graves, but tonight he was desperate.

Manta rubbed his eyes and screamed. Floating in the air around the boy were dozens of translucent, glowing figures—samurai, monks, and ancient travelers, all smiling warmly.