Years. Gojyo leaned forward at that, like a hungry man approaching a feast. Cho remembered years of his life. He knew who we was, what he was. Even only two or three years out of what, Twenty? Thirty? That was still so much.

The bolt of jealously was hardly surprising, after a revelation like that.

"But is that a good thing?" Cho certainly sounded like he'd meant it that way. "If the spell weakens and we stop being shinki, then we're nothing but ghosts."