Chapter 235

It was a tone sweeter than sweet—truly, a melody that could only be called beautiful. An orchestral sound that captivated all who heard it. And when her clear, low, gentle voice joined in harmony, the biwa music became bliss of the ear, ecstasy of sound. A honeydew of music, a nectar of tone...

"By Autumn's Joy, the people are soothed; by Eternal Joy, their lives extended. Evil oni scatter, all fortunes blessed; household safety, great fortune and peace... thus I pray."

Her voice fell like a temple bell's last resonance, and with the customary final flourish, she struck the biwa strings with force. The blind girl—Mari—completed her song. A single bead of sweat traced down her brow as the final note faded.

A moment of silence. Then, a beat—and she was enveloped in applause from all sides. Catching her breath, Mari steadied herself and bowed gracefully to her audience, her gratitude silent but evident.

This was the fourth consecutive piece performed by the blind girl on the veranda of the Ako family's capital villa. "Araenkyo"

1—the Sutra of the Raging Flame—was a song that warded off fire's calamities, exorcised the hearth, and prayed for the household's peace and prosperity. A staple among the biwa monks' repertoire. A standard tune the audience knew well, one that showed the performer's skill clearly. The thunderous applause spoke plainly of their verdict on Mari's artistry.

Magnificent... there is no word for it but magnificent.

"Well, well. You really do have a gift for singing, don't you? I'm captivated every time I hear you."

"Professional level... no, better than that, right? At least I prefer your style."

"Haha, that's probably because a young lass is nicer to look at than a balding old man!"

"Enough with the jokes. ...I won't deny this little lady's voice is sweet, though!"

And the men surrounding her turned gazes burning with heat they couldn't hide toward Mari. Her innocent features, pure and untouched, and her pure gesture of tilting her head in confusion—they stirred the men without limit. But what held their gazes captive even more deeply was the bounty so mismatched with her youthful face. That soft flesh, swaying without a care, became a darker poison against her innocence, gnawing—slow and steady—at the men's control.

"Ugh, gross. The absolute worst."

"Shh! Stop sending such vulgar looks her way!"

"Mari-chan, here's some tea. Please, hydrate yourself?"

The maids threw their contempt at the men openly, as if to rein them in, shielding Mari like an iron wall. Their glares were warnings. It was, in a sense, an unusual sight.

...Blind. Sickly. Helpless. She was the fragile sort that would normally be crushed by the selfishness and malice around her without a second thought. Even more so as an outsider with no long history of service to this household.

Partly, it was the Ako family's own open-handed nature. Partly, it was the sweet, candy-like melodies she played. Partly, it was her small-creature honesty that turned no one away. But most of all, it was the quiet maneuvering of Yona, who had entrusted Mari and her brother to Murasaki's care. These forces came together to create the present. Before anyone realized it, she had unconsciously claimed the protective instincts of everyone in this estate.

Now she existed as the "flower of the estate"—loved by all, to be protected by all. The murkiness lurking in the men's gazes was strictly managed by the women's iron defenses, never permitted to cross the line of decency. And the men, in turn, accepted this and cherished her all the same.

"Ah—yes! Thank you very much!"

Whether she understood these circumstances or not, Mari accepted the tea with bright gratitude, her hands groping through the void to find the cup. She cradled it in both hands and drank it down in greedy swallows—a sight that somehow carried a perverse allure. A stray droplet spilled from her lips, tracing her slender throat and dampening her robes.

"Phew... haaah. Ahh. That was wonderful! Such delicious tea!"

She let out a small breath, then began plucking the biwa strings gently, tuning them. Her unseeing eyes turned toward the presences around her, and she asked in that lovely voice:

"...I apologize for the wait. Everyone, what song would you like to hear next?"

"Now, now. Mari-chan, wait just a moment!"

"That's your fourth piece, isn't it? Don't you think that's enough for today?"

"That's right. You've been practicing morning and afternoon too, haven't you? You'll strain your voice if you push too hard."

"Besides, it's late already... We have work tomorrow, so we really ought to be getting to bed."

Mari hesitated at the maids' affectionate restraint, her shoulders drawing in as if to make herself small. That gesture of fragility—it was like a twig about to snap.

"That may be true... but I apologize. I've kept you all here singing while you're busy, without considering your convenience. How terribly embarrassing of me."

As if regretting her own immaturity and ignorance, Mari bowed her head, shoulders trembling. Her helplessness stirred affection and cruelty from everyone, regardless of age or gender. At the same time, it made them want to love her, to comfort her.

"Honestly! ...You don't have to worry about it that much. Right?"

"That's right. Weren't those songs cleansing to the soul? We're getting to hear them for free—if anything, we're getting a bargain."

"Truly. ...And you menfolk agree, don't you?"

The maids shielded Mari while calling out to the men with pointed reproach—a request to comfort their beloved biwa player, and a rebuke to the apes who had taken advantage of her blindness to stare at her chest. The men laughed awkwardly, deflecting.

"Haha... Well, I suppose we have to stop at a good place, or we'd be listening all night."

"That's what they mean by not knowing when to quit. I bet even man-eating yokai and evil gods would listen for days on end, enchanted."

"Then we'd be in trouble. We'll have to inspect the estate's Soundproof Barrier Curse. Can't have our Biwa Princess getting carried off!"

Half-joking, half-dismissing the women's annoyance, yet with genuine feeling, they spoke. The image of a skillful maiden being carried off by evil gods or yokai was a classic story—and even if not, some foolish noble's son might be drawn by her music, peep through a gap, and recklessly attempt a night visit. Of course, in that case, he'd be beaten with a stick for trespassing. Mercilessly. Absolutely mercilessly. They'd smash that pretty face of his without hesitation.

...This unified, transparent policy was for the sake of their estate's proud, endearing songstress before them—and for her brother, that stupid, self-abasing man as well. Thinking of how devotedly he cared for her day to day, they didn't begrudge lending a hand while he was away on duty.

"...Speaking of which, it's about time, isn't it? Princess, are you alright?"

"I know you miss your brother, but please bear with it. Opportunities to visit the Old Capital don't come often, you know. It's a great honor."

"He should be able to bring back at least a protective charm as a souvenir from there, so..."

The maids comforted Mari together because her brother—the one who usually cared for her—was away on a long journey. The youngest daughter of the Ako family's main branch had issued a direct command, and in accordance with it, Mari's elder brother—so unlike her it was almost absurd—had been summoned as a manservant to accompany her. It was unavoidable given their station, and certainly an honor. But it was also true that Mari, left behind, was in a pitiable position. How hard it must be to be separated from the only family she could rely on, when she could see nothing but darkness...

"...I understand my duty. This cannot be helped. I consider it an honor beyond my worth that you would accept my brother and me into your service at all. To serve at your side—I take that joy as only natural."

Mari spoke, her voice calm, a faint smile of resignation playing at her lips. She wasn't calculating anything—but it was a face that pierced the heart of anyone who saw it.

"If you ever need anything, call for us right away. The jufu

2 in your room is your key—never take it off!"

"Don't leave gaps in your shoji

3 paper doors either. Shadows might slip through and someone could peek in!"

"...Yes?"

The women's passionate instruction left Mari tilting her head. Blind as she was, she couldn't see the chivalry behind their attempts to physically block the men's lecherous gazes. She couldn't even imagine it. She probably thought, What would be the point of someone peeping at me? The men felt indignant too, glancing at the women—but the women would not let their guard down. Men were beasts. They were definitely thinking with their loins. They had no evidence for this, but they were certain of it.

"Ah, um, that is... thank you. For someone like me who can't do any work..."

"That's enough of that! Your performances alone are more than enough. You're doing plenty!"

"Right? I'm practically working just to hear this every day."

"Absolutely. Having a cup with this little lady's song as a snack—that's quite refined, don't you think?"

"The snack for you men is really the song?"

"Come on, give us a break already."

"...?"

The women's pointed reminders made the men complain, and Mari remained oblivious, tilting her head in confusion. The movement made the men glance sidelong. That, regrettably, was the nature of men.

"...Elder Brother. I do hope he remains in good health."

Mari, unable to fully grasp the conversation around her, sighed deeply and let her thoughts drift to her brother. What was he doing now, where was he? Was he hurt or ill? She prayed with all her heart that he was safe.

"Truly, you're so devoted to your brother, aren't you?"

"With that drab face, that stooped posture, and not even a sense of style..."

"You two don't look alike at all, do you?"

It was obvious to anyone who looked—how much the blind girl worried and agonized. Among the maids, who considered male siblings crude, rough, and foolish, many were impressed by Mari's devotion—but also exasperated. Especially given how much potential Mari herself had as a woman. Everyone thought they were as different as the moon from a turtle, despite being siblings.

"It's true. Someone like me doesn't deserve to be his sister. I can't see, my legs are weak, my body is frail—I'm nothing but a burden..."

"Wait, no, no, no! I'm sorry! That's not what I meant at all...!"

"Hehe. Yes. I understand. It was a joke."

"...Huh?"

"About my brother... I would ask that you not speak too ill of him. Because he always puts everything aside for me, to provide for me. Yona-san once said—if he fixed his grooming, he wouldn't cut a bad figure. ...Surely, this must be my fault."

Mari let out a faint, rueful smile. Her beauty, steeped in a shadowed sorrow, drew the viewer's heart deep within. How purely, how dearly she cherished her brother—that single-minded devotion bewitched those around her, driving them to near madness.

"...Um, I'm sorry? I didn't mean to go that far, you know?" one maid ventured, her tone softening.

"Right, right. You're cute too, y'know?" another added with a teasing lilt.

"There's no need to feel so tense. I'm sure your brother's never said a bad word about you, either," a third chimed in, her voice warm with reassurance.

"How rare. Mari, making such a sardonic joke... Is your brother really that precious to you?" the first maid asked, her eyes glinting with gentle curiosity.

The maids apologized to Mari in turn, then soothed her.

"Yes. ...My brother is the only family I've known since I was old enough to remember. So I'm sorry if I've overstepped—even in jest, about my Elder Brother..." Mari's voice trailed off, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Of course, we understand. ...I'm sorry, all right? Your family, you've only got him, don't you? In that case, I suppose it can't be helped. It's not exactly a good feeling, is it?" the second maid said, her expression softening with genuine sympathy.

There was no need to spell it out; everyone understood what remained unsaid. Mari's plea—apologetic yet earnest—left no one inclined to resist. A frail younger sister who never made demands, who always deferred to others, had voiced one of her rare wishes. To take issue with that would be petty. Everyone was smitten with her.

"Thank you for your concern..."

With heartfelt gratitude, Mari bowed her head once more. Then she turned, eyes unfocused and pupils fully dilated, toward the direction where her brother must be—as if sending her thoughts far beyond the horizon, toward some distant land.

"Elder Brother. Please stay safe... Please, come back safely..."

As if she could not bear to lose anything more, the blind girl clutched the biwa in her hands tightly, weakly and desperately praying—for her brother's safe return. That the man she recognized and adored as her brother would come home safe...

* * *

"Ugh... bleggh. Hrrrk. Hk, pfft!"

In a corner of the overgrown miscanthus field, I was hunched over, throwing up my guts. The wet sound of retching broke the night's silence. A gurgling, drawn-out noise oozed out beside me, where the tanuki Azuma was frowning.

"...You all right? Need a hand?" Azuma asked, her brow furrowed with concern.

"Nngh, 's fine, bu—... uuurrrgh!?!"

Before I could get the words out, another wave surged up, and I spewed it everywhere. Even as I retched, I grabbed the slimy, stomach-acid-soaked thing dangling from my throat and pulled it out by force—endlessly, without end. Like a magic trick...

...Heh. If only it were a trick.

"Haaah, haaah, haaah... Wha— gwaah!? Uurrghhh!?!"

It kept coming. And coming. Endlessly. The rope—which had grown thick and massive inside me, guzzling my spiritual power—now hung limp and flaccid, as if all the air had gone out of it. My curse-art thought processing wasn't completely trashed, since it twitched occasionally, but that was the worst possible outcome here. I wish the rope would understand what it's like to have something the size of a great serpent thrashing around in your stomach. With my mouth forced open wide enough to dislocate my jaw, even breathing was a struggle.

"...Looks like you're finally seeing the end of it. Keep at it—you're almost there," Azuma said, her voice carrying a note of encouragement.

"Mm, !? Guh... bwuuurgh!?!"

'(⁠⁠´⁠ω⁠｀⁠⁠) "Born at last!"'

The moment I finished dragging the last of the cursed rope out of my gut, that idiot spider's stupid voice rang through my head. More precisely, its acid-soaked form emerged from the depths of my stomach to announce itself. The moment it slipped free of the rope and touched the ground, it shook itself, spraying gastric juice everywhere, and looked up at me with a triumphant grin.

'(；⁠^⁠ω⁠^⁠) "I'm back!"'

"Cough, hack... I-is that so."

I brushed off the idiot spider's declaration while choking and wheezing. Bastard. Here I was, struggling and suffering to get it out, and it's acting all carefree...

"Hmm. This is... the kind of thick rope the Tengu use, isn't it? Stashing it in your stomach—that's certainly a new approach. Though in this case, it backfired, didn't it? ...No, my apologies. I should have explained more thoroughly beforehand. Forgive me."

Azuma examined the drenched, limp cursed rope sprawled in a puddle of gastric juices, her expression almost nostalgic as she studied the still-twitching strands.

"Goddamn it... urgh, blurgh!?"

'(；⁠∀⁠；⁠) "Your judgment sucked!"'

Meanwhile, I just doubled over and kept heaving up whatever was left in my empty gut, over and over. The sour stench of acid burned my nostrils. My head was filled with nothing but regret—sheer, overwhelming regret. I didn't want to admit it, but that idiot spider was right.

The battle was over. A glance around showed piles of half-wrecked Scarecrow puppets heaped in one corner. They'd been dumped there to prevent setting off the various traps scattered across the area.

The reason I was in this sorry state was the price I'd paid for that strategy. More precisely—I'd been outwitted by the Old Capital's cunning defense mechanisms and ended up floundering like a drowning rat.

'Quite a unique mechanism, isn't it? Mixing spiritual poison into the spiritual power used to operate the shikigami. ...I see—the moment "Reiki" gets mixed in, it disrupts the target's Reiki flow. In a way, it's quite elegant.'

Through the communication spell in my ear, Matsuhige's granddaughter—was calmly analyzing the situation. That bastard, luxuriously analyzing from a safe zone!

"Hack, hack... This is what you call an old-school dirty trick, huh?" I managed between gasps.

'(；⁠∀⁠；⁠) "First time experiencing it in my own body!"'

Facing the Scarecrow puppets without moving from my position had been an absolute nightmare. Not to mention, I couldn't just smash them to pieces—the debris would trigger the anti-youkai or even anti-god-level cursed traps scattered all around. So I'd played one of my trump cards in front of Azuma.

If I could plant a spell in my ear, shoving something down my throat wasn't that weird. I'd already demonstrated that trick back at the Juuyaku family's estate. Just like then, I'd surgically opened my throat and implanted a three-piece set: spider, cursed rope, and nails.

The ability to shoot out the rope like some foreigner's hidden tongue the moment I opened my mouth was perfect for an ambush. The mechanism that absorbed the target's spiritual power or youkai energy and optimally adjusted its length, thickness, and blade-like edge was also versatile.

The rope I'd launched from my throat caught and strangled the puppets one after another, draining them of spiritual power. Fueled by my own energy and the Scarecrows', the rope grew endlessly from my mouth, acting as an automatic defense and a one-man army. The situation had been in my favor—until it suddenly, violently turned.

It must have been just as I'd finished neutralizing the puppets charging at me. The spiritual poison mixed into their energy had fully circulated through the rope, causing it to go berserk. The thing suddenly swelled up inside my stomach, threatening to tear me apart from within, and thrashed around with enough force to make me see hell itself.

"Haaah... haaah... haaah. Uuurgh!? Hack, hack!? Hey, snap out of it! Please, don't go dead on me, all right...?" I called out, my voice cracking with desperation.

'(；⁠∀⁠；⁠) "He's a hardy one! Don't die on us!"'

'......'

Still retching, still coughing, I called out to the curled-up, wilted cursed rope. If it were human, this would be the point where it was pissing itself, eyes blank, making peace signs with a slack-jawed face—or something like that. It was that unresponsive, that completely limp and spaced out. Usually, this thing would dance with the idiot spider in some stupid "reflect on your choices" routine without even being asked... but now, I couldn't tell if the spider was joking or serious.

"Don't worry. The Tengu's cursed tools aren't that fragile. ...See? It's asking for your spiritual power. If you let it drain off the poison and replenish it with your own, it should recover."

Azuma held out the rope's end to me, still dripping with stomach acid. The tip, sensing my presence, squirmed weakly and reached toward me. I reached out and touched it gently—and it latched on like a carnivorous plant, coiling around me, beginning to usurp my spiritual power. ...Ow. Fine. Whatever.

"Normally, I'd rather not waste spiritual power here. But... what the hell happened? How did we end up in this situation?" I demanded, my voice sharp with frustration.

'щ⁠(⁠゜⁠ロ⁠゜⁠щ⁠) "You fell for it!"'

My unspoken complaint was basically: if Azuma was supposedly familiar with the Old Capital's defenses, why did we still get swarmed by that many puppets? It couldn't be an accident. If anything, I'd be more willing to believe she'd deliberately set me up to die and made it look like bad luck.

"Don't give me that look. I'm just as baffled as you. ...Hmm. It seems someone's been meddling with the operating ethics without my knowledge."

Defending herself against my suspicious glare, the tanuki reached for the piled-up Scarecrows. She forcefully tore the mask off one and examined its back side—then frowned in puzzlement.

"Fundamentally, shikigami puppets—or simplified rituals in general—don't possess anything like willpower, unlike true shikigami. You can make them appear to, but..."

Azuma's explanation was essentially that they were like AI or programming. They reflexively reacted to preset conditions. Repeat that cycle. The more precisely you designed the conditions, the more smoothly they could behave as if alive—but it was still just a facade. They couldn't match the flexibility of a true youkai-ritual path. No matter how sophisticated, they never stepped outside their prescribed parameters.

"The issue is the effort required to change those parameters. The Old Capital's defensive mechanisms are robust, but their underlying magical framework is old-fashioned. The Fuso spiritual art and curse art systems have evolved over the centuries since the nation's founding, and now they're practically unrecognizable from the original. ...Here. Can you read this?"

The mask's reverse side was covered in a dense, immense script—carved with the kind of precision that made you think of a system engineer's source code. The characters were archaic, deviating from the Fusō script I saw every day, and rendered in such a distorted arrangement that I couldn't read a word of them. In fact, the pattern looked more like decoration. Up close, I could see that in places, characters had been scraped off and rewritten.

"No, not a clue," I admitted.

"Your honesty is appreciated," Azuma replied in her elegant, measured tone. "This script style dates back to before the Great Rebellion. How many people alive today could even read it, let alone recreate it? It's an archaic relic. The straw body can be swapped out regularly, but you can't do much about the mask housing the brain. They say it was manageable up until the Great Rebellion... but after the only person who could fix the contents disappeared, they just kept replacing the worn-out bodies for a long time. That was how it was supposed to be, but..."

Azuma stared hard at the reverse side of the mask. The mystic sigils that governed the framework's operational ethics—the ones only a limited few could read or modify—had indeed been corrected. And not long ago, either. Extremely recently. That was clearly absurd.

(No, that wasn't the absurd part. That wasn't impossible. No, the absurd thing was...)

"...Azuma-dono?"

"...!"

"...Azuma-dono?"

"...Grandchild of Matsuhige. Come out, I won't be angry. Look at this."

'(⁠・⁠∀⁠・⁠) "I'm here to show off my little sister!"'

Tanuki-sama ignored my question and called out to her. She looked at me and gave the order. Silence... then a tiny, miniature Hummingbird-type poked just its head out of my ear. Its round eyes fixed on Azuma.

'Who's a sister? ...What is this all about, exactly?' Hummingbird inquired, her voice carrying that peculiar blend of scholarly precision and something else—something almost playful.

"Don't play dumb," Azuma said. "You've sensed something already, haven't you? Look at this. Does the handwriting look familiar?"

Azuma held the mask up to my ear, showing the back to Hummingbird. Hummingbird fell silent. A quiet impulse stirred...

'The original characters and the corrections are both in the same handwriting,' Hummingbird observed, her tone clinical. 'It's as if the same person made the revisions.'

"But that's not all, is it? Don't try to deceive me."

'...It's his handwriting. No mistake.' A pause. 'It's that man's.'

'(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) "That's definitely him!"'

The voice emanating from Hummingbird seemed to churn with a terribly complex mix of emotions. There was only one person Botan spoke of with such undisguised hostility.

'Isn't it a bit of a security breach, though,' Botan cut in sharply, 'to keep using puppet mechanisms made by a traitor?'

"I don't know what 'breach' means," Azuma replied, "but... the majority of this land's defense systems, if you trace them back, were created by that man. Replacing the entire system wholesale is unrealistic, and even if we replaced it piece by piece, each function is designed to complement the others—modifying them is a pain in the neck."

'So because it costs money and is a huge hassle to fix,' Botan continued, her sarcasm dripping, 'it got put off until the foundations were so outdated that there was nobody left who understood them anymore. Now it's completely untouchable.'

'┐⁠(⁠´⁠д⁠`⁠)⁠┌ "One operation, one spaghetti codebase..."'

Botan's sharp summary laid bare the reality of Azuma's excuse as a representative of the imperial court. Azuma offered no defense against the accusation—just tilted her head back and fell silent. It seemed even she had tasted more than her share of hardship during her time at court.

"...Since its founding," Azuma said at last, her voice carrying the weight of centuries, "the imperial court has utilized exorcists but never fully trusted them. When requesting the construction of base defense systems, it was custom to bind the creators with oaths to prevent abuse. The first Bureau Head was no exception."

'And that man was exactly the type who could have planted any number of traps in his oath without it being obvious.'

'"(⁠ ⁠；⁠∀⁠；⁠) Cooling off? ...Or what?'"

"I'd rather not believe the benkan of the imperial court were all idiots back then, but..."

Azuma trailed off. Her inability to state it definitively betrayed her true feelings.

"...So," I asked, "if that bastard is hiding out here, what's his goal?"

"There's any number of things worth targeting," Azuma said, "so that's a problem."

'But if he's deliberately stalling us here,' Hummingbird interjected, 'then doesn't that mean his actual target lies further in?'

"The inner shrine, or else... no, wait?"

Cutting herself off, covering her mouth with her hand, Azuma looked at me. She looked at Hummingbird, whose head was poking out of my ear. She thought for a moment. Then she frowned and muttered.

"...Do you think that sword attack at Saiguu was a coincidence?"

"..."

'...'

'"(⁠・⁠o⁠・⁠)?"'

Immediately after, at the terrifying possibility Azuma had just voiced, everyone except Stupid Spider fell silent. Then certainty: We'd been led by the nose. If everything—us going out to search, us stopping here—had been within that bastard's palm from the start...

"Turn back!" Azuma shouted, all pretense of refinement gone. "...Damn it! He's prepared for this!"

Azuma and I stood back-to-back to face the approaching threat. And without pause, they arrived.

"Grrrrrr..."

It emerged from the field of miscanthus ahead, though at first there was no visible form. Only a low growl reached my ears, followed by the heavy thud of approaching footfalls. The miscanthus swayed and rustled as the shadow of a massive body moved through it, carrying the crushing killing intent of an invisible tiger. No—it wasn't that it couldn't be seen. Rather, only the concept of a tiger existed there.

At the same time, the ground trembled. Corpses—yokai or human—burst through the earth, rising one after another. And the puppet mechanisms of the Scarecrow we'd destroyed earlier rose again, even as they crumbled. Some even revived despite having lost their core masks.

The Tora Oni—a recreated phantom of those devoured by a tiger, the Tiger of the Front Gate and the Great Path God—was one of the Old Capital's defense mechanisms.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAH!!!"

Behind them stood a massive wolf whose jaw had been split in two. Its eyes had been roughly sewn shut, its breath came in harsh, ragged bursts, saliva dripped without cease, its beautiful coat was caked in dirt, and its ears twitched convulsively. Faint traces of shinki (divine energy) clung to it...

As its jaw closed, the ground directly in front of White Spider was gouged out as though it had been bitten away. White Spider desperately scrambled onto my body and clung tight. It looked at the great wolf. From between the wolf's split jaws, dirt and grass crumbled and fell.

The Ōguchi-gami—a lesser wolf deity, tamed and subjugated as the Wolf of the Rear Gate, its fangs grinding away not just matter but the very space it bit into, guarding its territory—was another of the Old Capital's defense mechanisms.

...And probably, monsters that should never have met in a place like this.

(What a perfect trap...!!?)

I glanced between the surging undead and the wolf preparing to close its jaws, and I cursed inwardly. Then I glared into the distance, toward Saiguu-dono, beyond the horizon.

That bastard's—that hundred-faced bastard's goal is...!!

* * *

Saiguu dorms, Outer Courtyard—the corridor never ceased to be filled with the clamor of benkan officials. Tamaki wandered the cold stone floor without any particular destination.

The beast that led her kept a perfect distance—neither too close nor too far—occasionally glancing back. Its manner was almost as if it was teasing and luring a predator.

(...I'm being led.)

Tamaki realized. The people passing before her slipped through her body like a mirage. That was no metaphor. From the sea of their consciousness, Tamaki's existence had been completely erased, as though she were a ghost cut off from the world's logic.

Naturally, she had no memory of death. That was impossible. Which meant this was the work of some power. And besides the beast flicking its tail before her, she had no one else who could be responsible.

"Naa!" it called out.

Whether because she'd slowed down and fallen behind, or because they'd reached a corner, it yawned—or seemed to yawn—and then turned right, vanishing from sight.

"W-Wait up!" Tamaki called, her voice carrying a desperation she couldn't quite mask. She couldn't afford to ignore it. She quickened her pace and rushed after it.

She couldn't shake the feeling she was falling into some kind of trap. But even if that were true, what was she supposed to do about it?

She couldn't interfere with anyone, and no one could perceive her. Everyone was already in an uproar over her disappearance. Even if she tried to prove her innocence, what could she possibly do stuck here? End it all without ever being recognized? She couldn't resign herself to doing nothing, to idleness.

At the same time, she couldn't simply simplify the situation by capturing the beast. Even if she caught it, with that vacant expression of its, there was no telling how much pain it would actually register. Nor was there any guarantee that the situation she'd found herself in was even the beast's doing. The beast might only be a guide—the one who'd made her imperceptible and untouchable might be someone else entirely.

...In the end, Tamaki had no choice but to chase after the creature that was clearly luring her somewhere—enemy or ally, she couldn't tell. She couldn't have done otherwise. The result was that Tamaki found herself racing through the Saiguu dorms' residential halls without anyone stopping her. Before she knew it, she'd passed the outer courtyard where the benkan conducted their business and had ventured deep into the heart of the complex—so deep that a mere household member like her would normally be turned away.

"Found anything?" one voice called.

"No, not yet. ...What about the other heralds under disciplinary confinement?"

"No suspicious moves, but... first a manservant goes missing, and now a household member. This is definitely suspicious."

"We'll need to interrogate them. ...What the hell is going on?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be worrying about it."

"Why do these troubles have to keep piling up on top of each other...!"

Busy officials, priests, apprentice miko, and guards passed by, their conversations drifting into Tamaki's ears. She heard mention of her senior apprentice sister, the two servants she'd brought, and most of all—the injured Yona. A powerful urge to see them welled up, but she suppressed it and kept chasing the beast. She could worry about Murasaki, or the servants, or Yona later—there was no guarantee they could even perceive her now.

She turned right at the corridor's corner. Left at the next. Left again at the dead end. She pulled a door. Through the storage rooms. Through the kitchens. Through the sake cellar. Past the stables. Past even a magnificent medicinal garden with a greenhouse of a hundred herbs, and through the maze-like dormitory wings.

At some point, the arrangement and style of the buildings had changed. She realized it only belatedly, looking back to see she'd passed through a magnificent gate while chasing the beast.

"This is..."

She recalled what her senior apprentice sister had explained to her. The Saiguu dorms were divided into three districts. The first, the Outer Courtyard, was the benkan's territory. Beyond that was supposed to be the Middle Palace—the shintos' domain. The Chief Priest's domain, where rituals and their preparations took place. Tamaki acknowledged that she'd wandered into that place now.

"Naa!" the beast called.

"Oh, wait—really now," Tamaki muttered, half to herself, "you're utterly fearless, aren't you?"

She'd stopped without thinking, and the beast that had been retreating looked up at her with those round, black-pearl eyes. Their depths held an otherworldly gleam, as if moonlight itself had been captured within. The moment it sensed her attention, it sprang away, darting deeper into the shrine grounds. She started to follow but checked herself—she'd caught a glimpse of a figure crossing at the edge of her vision and realized she was about to collide.

"Oi, did you hear...?"

"Yeah. When are they going to catch it? Those guards are useless..."

The priests passed through the space between Tamaki and the beast, walking straight on by. ...As she'd thought: they didn't seem to notice her. Their eyes never met hers—not even a fragment of recognition. No one here recognized her existence—except that beast.

"Honestly... What is even what anymore."

She sighed. Resigned, Tamaki had no choice but to resume walking. Since she couldn't interact with or be recognized by anyone or anything, she might as well respond to the beast's call.

(Besides...)

And there was more. The beast's unhurried, confident stride was making Tamaki suspect that it was no intruder from outside—it moved too familiarly for a stranger. Its footsteps seemed to know the layout of the buildings, the halls, the corridors far too well, as if it had memorized the grounds beforehand. It didn't seem like something that had shown up just yesterday or today.

(But then... Botan-san's shikigami...?)

4

After all, she still didn't know who that person she'd met inside Mayoiga

5 actually was, or what he'd had to do with anything. Come to think of it, maybe she'd been wrong from the start. Then again... was it possible that this "Botan" person was from the Old Capital?

(The shrine is where gods dwell... Tomobe-kun used to be here too, didn't he?)

The white child spider. The image of him transformed. Tamaki still didn't know the origins of the man to whom she owed so much. Could it be that he'd once been here, with that person called Botan...?

"...Haha, that's reaching a bit too far, isn't it?"

She shook her head, forcing away the fanciful thought. It wouldn't make sense for a person like that to have been in a servant's position. That was a contradiction in terms—a setting collapse, if you will. She was overthinking it. Rather than that...

"..."

"Naa?"

"I know, I know... Can you not rush me so much?"

At its prompting call, Tamaki cut short her hesitation. She walked. She kept walking—following where the beast led.

"...This is...?"

The place Tamaki arrived at was a building occupying a corner of the Chuin-den's main hall. She looked around. Strange—there was no sign of anyone nearby. A stark contrast to the bustle she could feel a short distance away. It was as if someone had cleared the area.

"Something about this... feels off, doesn't it?"

Tamaki's murmur wasn't just about the emptiness. The entrance was sealed with layer upon layer of locks and chains. The building itself seemed to bear some kind of barrier curse. There was no signboard indicating its purpose.

"Naa!"

"It's locked. I don't think we can get in—"

Without a moment's hesitation, the beast moved forward. Tamaki called out, and the beast turned back to look at her—as if trying to communicate something. Then it touched the door. Its small body passed through the boundary like a heat haze.

"No way..."

As she watched, a possibility occurred to Tamaki. She touched the door too. Her hand traced the surface of the thick, solid-looking panel. There was no cold iron sensation beneath her fingers... and the next moment, her wrist was passing through the door as if into mist. No sensation at all...

"...It lets people through, huh? Kind of absurd, isn't it?"

She wondered if passing through the barrier curse itself was a problem, but... steeling herself, Tamaki leaned forward and stepped through the door. Past it, into the interior.

"...A library?"

Tamaki identified the building's purpose from the scene before her. Despite the emptiness, the room was lit by the pale glow of candle stands along the walls. Row after row of bookshelves stretched into the distance, packed tightly with bound books, bamboo strips, and wooden slips.

"Who... forgot to put these out? And these are..."

She was puzzled by the candle stands—who had lit them? It gave her an eerie feeling, as if they'd been waiting for her...

"Naa!"

Suddenly, something soft brushed against her feet. A smooth warmth pressed against her shin.

"KYAAAAH!!?!"

Startled, Tamaki let out an undignified yelp and jumped back. The unidentified beast sat at her feet, looking up at her with an air of composure. She hadn't noticed it in the dim light until it touched her. In any case, her reaction had been comically overblown. She was being toyed with, she realized. A mix of embarrassment and irritation at being made a fool of welled up inside her.

"H-hey! Don't scare me like that! What's been up with you this whole time!? What exactly are you trying to—"

"I want you to forgive me. I needed to do it—to realign your body to the original phase."

Tamaki, cheeks flushed, fists clenched, about to glare at the beast with raised voice, froze like a startled deer.

6 She doubted the voice that had just reached her ears. A childish, almost endearing voice. Her eyes locked onto its source.

"Eh... You... talked...?"

The beast, unconcerned by Tamaki's reaction, sat down with a plop, then hopped nimbly onto a nearby bookshelf.

"Upsy-daisy. Whoopsie-daisy. Phew!"

It climbed higher, one shelf after another, until it was perched far above Tamaki's eye level, its tail swaying elegantly.

"I really, really want you to forgive me. But hey—your body's back to normal now, right? You can touch things again, people can see you. To guide you here, I had to shift your phase a little—it was tricky. Can't be helped, right?"

Its round eyes looked down at Tamaki, who still hadn't fully processed what was happening. Her gaping face was reflected in the beast's deep, black-pearl irises—like looking into a bottomless well.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Nobe. Guardian beast of this Old Capital. Pleased to meet you? ...It's Hotoya Tamaki, isn't it?"

"Eh, ah... Y-yeah, Nobe-kun? Nice to... meet you...?"

Tamaki returned the greeting, still dumbfounded. Greetings were important, after all.

"Just 'Nobe' is fine. ...Actually, I came here because I have a huge favor to ask you."

With an adorable, beaming smile, and then a mechanical beat of silence, the one who called itself Nobe spoke:

"To be honest, there's no time to waste. I really need you to lend that power of yours—for everyone, for this Fuso. ...Make a pact with me. Come to Shinomiya!"

With an endearing voice, with an utterly charming gesture, with a somewhat embarrassed smile, the fluffy, soft beast made its proposition to Hotoya Tamaki.

===

I'd like to introduce some fan art we've received. From Namazu-san comes "Beto-beto-san"... no, "Crawling Silkworm" (Hakohitokusen)! By the way, these little ones have a setting where they become quite attached to people depending on how you raise them. https://www.pixiv.net/artworks/146410860 — Thank you so much for the wonderful work!

---

Summary:

The blind songstress Mari completes her fourth performance at the Ako family estate, earning thunderous applause and revealing the complex dynamics of protection, desire, and vulnerability that surround her. The maids fiercely shield her from the men's lecherous gazes while Mari remains unaware, her thoughts turning to her absent brother who has been summoned to serve the Ako family's youngest daughter at the Old Capital. The scene concludes with Mari's quiet joke about being a burden—a moment that reveals hidden depths and leaves her brother's fate as an unresolved tension.

Mari's tearful plea for her brother's honor reveals a deep devotion born from their shared past as orphans, while the maids' teasing offers a glimpse of her otherwise invisible steel. In the second scene, the protagonist's magical defense against Scarecrow puppets backfires catastrophically when his own cursed rope becomes poisoned, forcing him to vomit the enormous object with the spider's aid. Azuma's exposition hints at a larger conspiracy—someone has altered the Old Capital's defense systems without his knowledge, raising the question of who is truly in control of the ancient mechanisms.

The protagonist and Azuma examine a mask revealing ancient script that has been recently altered, uncovering a conspiracy involving a traitor's handwriting. As they realize they've been deliberately stalled, the Tora Oni and Ōguchi-gami attack from both sides, confirming they've been perfectly trapped. Meanwhile, Tamaki wanders invisibly through the Saiguu dorms, following a mysterious beast into the forbidden Middle Palace while overhearing discussions of her own disappearance.

Tamaki encounters a mysterious beast in the shrine grounds and discovers she's invisible to everyone except it. After following it through a barrier, she learns the beast can speak and has been guiding her to realign her phase. The beast, Nobe, requests she make a pact and come to Shinomiya, but its motives remain unclear.

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Trivia:

Mari has performed four consecutive songs, including "Araenkyo" (the Sutra of the Raging Flame), a standard biwa monk repertoire piece.

The Ako family's capital villa serves as the current setting, with Mari performing on the veranda.

Yona entrusted Mari and her brother to Murasaki's care, indicating a web of obligation and patronage.

The "Soundproof Barrier Curse" is mentioned as a protective measure to prevent Mari from being abducted by yokai or evil gods.

The men's gazes are described as "gnawing slow and insidious" at their restraint, highlighting the predatory undercurrent.

Mari's elder brother is described as dull-faced, stooped, and lacking style—completely unlike his sister.

The maids intend to beat any would-be nighttime visitors with a stick, "mercilessly," reflecting their fierce protectiveness.

Mari is blind and cannot see the maids' attempts to block the men's lecherous gazes, leaving her confused.

The proverb "as different as the moon from a turtle" is used to describe the contrast between Mari and her brother.

The youngest daughter of the Ako family's main branch is the one who summoned Mari's brother as a manservant.

Mari's blindness is mentioned explicitly when she turns toward where her brother would be.

The biwa is a traditional Japanese lute that Mari clutches during her prayer.

Yona-san appears to have made a comment about Mari's brother's appearance in the past.

The protagonist previously demonstrated his throat-implant technique at the Juuyaku family's estate.

Kochou's granddaughter communicates through a spell in the protagonist's ear.

Azuma is a tanuki, a shapeshifting Japanese raccoon dog.

The Old Capital's defense mechanisms date back to the nation's founding of Fuso.

The cursed rope is actually a Tengu tool that feeds on spiritual power.

Operating ethics have been modified without Azuma's knowledge.

Scarecrow puppets are simplified rituals without true willpower.

Spiritual poison mixed into the puppets' energy caused the protagonist's rope to go berserk.

Anti-youkai and anti-god-level cursed traps surround the battlefield.

The mask's inscriptions are in archaic Fusō script that predates the Great Rebellion, and only a limited few could read or modify them.

The handwriting on the mask matches both the original and the corrections, suggesting the same person made changes long ago and recently.

"That man" was a traitor who created most of the Old Capital's defense mechanisms, but also the only one who could repair them.

The imperial court bound creators with oaths to prevent abuse, but the first Bureau Head was no exception—and may have planted traps.

The Tora Oni is a recreated phantom of those devoured by a tiger, serving as the Tiger of the Front Gate defense mechanism.

The Ōguchi-gami is a lesser wolf deity tamed and subjugated as the Wolf of the Rear Gate, capable of devouring space itself.

The beast leading Tamaki is described as having a vacant expression and a playful, predatory manner, keeping a precise distance.

Tamaki is completely invisible and intangible to everyone else in the Saiguu dorms, as if she's a ghost cut off from the world's logic.

The benkan officials are discussing Tamaki's disappearance alongside other missing persons, including a manservant and household members.

The Saiguu dorms are divided into three districts: Outer Courtyard (benkan territory), Middle Palace (shinto domain), and Inner Shrine.

Tamaki's senior apprentice sister is named Murasaki, and Yona is injured—both are mentioned in the benkan's chatter.

Tamaki cannot be seen or heard by anyone except the beast until its realignment.

The beast's initial vocalizations (Naa!) before speaking mark a threshold moment.

Botan and Tomobe are connected figures from Tamaki's past.

Mayoiga is a location Tamaki visited previously.

The Old Capital and Fuso are the same setting with different naming registers.

The beast Nobe uses the masculine first-person pronoun "boku."

The barrier curse on the library building doesn't prevent passage.

Tamaki's invisibility was caused by phase displacement.

The phrase "like a startled deer" replaces a Japanese idiom about a pigeon shot with a bean pellet.

Nobe's childlike demeanor contrasts with the weight of its request.

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Translation Notes:

1↵ A fictional sutra name combining "ara" (raging/rough) and "en" (flame) with "kyo" (sutra/scripture). The translation "Sutra of the Raging Flame" conveys the protective, exorcistic nature of the song.

2↵ A talisman or charm used for protection, often inscribed with prayers or symbols. In this context, it functions as a key to the room's protective barrier.

3↵ Traditional Japanese paper sliding doors, consisting of a wooden lattice frame covered with translucent washi paper. They allow light to pass through but create visible shadows.

4↵ A spirit or familiar bound to a practitioner in Japanese folklore. In this context, Botan's servant or familiar spirit.

5↵ Literally "lost house" or "mystery house" — a specific location Tamaki visited previously. The term carries connotations of a hidden or enigmatic dwelling.

6↵ Translation of the Japanese idiom "豆鉄砲を食らった鳩" (literally "a pigeon shot with a bean pellet"). The idiom describes someone frozen in comedic shock. Adapted to an equivalent English expression for readability while preserving the "frozen in surprise" meaning.