Chapter 238

White-robed figures gathered in the cypress-wood hall, their shadows stretching long in the candlelight as whispers flitted between them, alive and restless.

"The Miko's decline shows no sign of stopping? Surely not... such a thing..."

"What are we to do? This is unprecedented."

"Of course it is. Even the head of the Onmyoji Bureau9, who originally established this place, could not have foreseen such events. It stands to reason that anomalies would arise."

"All of this is because of those fools at the Imperial Court acting as they please! Those bastards sit comfortably in the peaceful capital, taking things lightly! What do they think our duties mean?!"

The charged atmosphere of the hall showed no sign of easing—if anything, it seemed to worsen by the moment. Day after day, the council meetings grew louder, rougher voices joining the fray. As tension pressed in like an approaching youki17, those waiting in the rear could not interject.

And still... they had not yet been able to deliver the fatal truth.

"Cease. Do not speak so carelessly."

"Indeed. We must not worsen relations between the Imperial Court and Jingu8 any further. Who knows what ears may be listening."

"But...!"

"This is not merely a matter of our own prestige! If it were that simple, it would be easy—but this concerns the very peace of all Fusō14!"

"Quite right! We must retrieve the rightful Saiō7 immediately and—"

"Fool! Even if we brought her back, what then?! After what she has become, how could she possibly serve as Miko15?!"

"Then perhaps we should arrange for her... retirement."

"Big talk for someone who's already failed twice, isn't it? Have you forgotten that your own schemes have already been called off twice? Even a saint's patience runs out after three offenses—how many times will the Minister allow this?"

"Enough! What if someone overhears?!"

The content was far too sensitive to speak aloud. One of the council members raised a hand to restrain the others, and his voice was so sharp, so sudden, that even Rokusuke involuntarily tensed his shoulders.

"...Rokusuke. That's enough—you're dismissed. Unless you have something else to say?"

From one corner of the assembly came his father's command, and it felt like a lifeline. Or perhaps the man simply thought it unwise to let a mere boy hear any more of this dangerous talk. Either way, their interests aligned.

"...With your leave."

He bowed in acknowledgment. None of the other Shinto priests stopped him, though they did not forget to drive the point home.

"Yes. For the Miko's sake, carry out your duties with utmost sincerity."

"The fortunes of our nation rest on your care. Always be prepared."

"See that you harbor no impure intentions. When your duties are fulfilled, you shall receive fitting reward."

"As a guardian, do not bring shame upon your predecessors."

"Like the guardian of the Day-Sealing Miko... you understand, don't you?"

The voice was threatening, yet pleading, trembling with barely concealed fear. Faces he had known since childhood, now desperate—grown men scrambling to save themselves. He understood the weight of their words, and yet he could not help but feel disgust, for he, too, knew just how grave the situation was.

...And precisely because he knew, he could not say it.

"..."

Once more, he bowed his head in silence and made his hasty departure, as if fleeing.

"—No."

No. No excuses. He had run. Clearly, he had run from that place without doing what needed to be done, had retreated.

"Damn..."

He walked quickly through the shrine's covered corridor, brow furrowed, spitting the word with bitter frustration. He couldn't say it again. He couldn't summon the courage. The words that had grown so large in his throat were swallowed back down, silenced, postponed. He had betrayed everyone. He was a traitor of the worst kind.

"But... what the hell am I supposed to do...?!"

Gritting his teeth, he let out a low growl of anger, his clenched fists already bleeding.

It was conflict. Nothing but conflict. Caught between a rock and a hard place, duty, conscience, common sense—all tangled together, pulling him apart relentlessly, endlessly.

"—! Hurry, I have to go..."

How long had he stood there, frozen? Shaking off the tangle of emotions that had trapped him, fully aware of the futility of his hesitation, he finally turned his feet toward where he belonged.

Clutching the Magatama his father had given him in his blood-caked palm, he concealed himself in the shadows of his own blindness. Then, following the prescribed path, he made his rounds, circling through the Saiguu1. Doing so would naturally dispel the ward that kept others away, guiding him to his destination: one of the uninhabited storehouses on the outskirts of the Saiguu.

"..."

He glanced around, confirming no one was watching, then unlocked the padlock and slipped inside. In the damp, dusty stillness of the abandoned storehouse, he reached along the wall, felt a solid surface, and pushed. A revolving door.

"—"

A cold wind, long sealed away, brushed against his face. Beyond the turning wooden panel, a narrow staircase appeared, too dark to see the footing.

"...It'll be fine, right?"

Checking once more that no one was behind him, he started down the stairs at a brisk pace. The stairway was long and steep, seemingly endless. If he slipped, he'd tumble and hit something wrong and die, probably. That's why he carefully coated his straw sandals with anti-slip, and why he never let his guard down when it came to checking the cords.

...How far down had he come, anyway? At some point, the steep slope had leveled into a gentler path, and the smell of moss tickled his nostrils as the way opened into a cavern lit by a dull, bluish glow. The air felt sweeter here—perhaps because the Reiki was denser than above ground. The sweat from his long walk cooled and dried quickly in the underground chill.

"..."

And so he let that wind chill his heart as well. With each step, he sank his mind into emptiness, killing his heart, cutting away emotion, maintaining a perfect stillness without even the faintest ripple of feeling. The cold wind and the long path were perfect for settling his mind.

Surely, this had all been intentional, built into the very design of this place from the beginning—a structure that considered, or perhaps saw through, the hearts of the guardians who came after.

"I wonder... did the Guardian of the Sealed Day walk this path too?"

The boy thought of the predecessor he'd been taught to revere, a model guardian, the pride of their line. That person had likely walked this same road. Imagining their state of mind, he overstepped himself and tried to place himself in their position.

When he did, he was overwhelmed by his own disloyalty. What would that person have done, if they were here? He agonized—not because he didn't know, but because he knew all too clearly.

What disloyalty. What dishonor. What injustice. What irreverence. And what impiety... he was the complete opposite. No one in Fusō's priesthood could be so far from the ideal. The worst, most despicable traitor.

Ah, he knew. But still. Still. Ah, damn it all.

"...I'm here."

Agonizing, worrying, spiraling, hesitating endlessly as he walked—at last he arrived at the end of it all. Beyond the cave, where spirit-firestones painted a deep blue night sky across the ceiling, it opened before him.

It was an underground city, eerily magnificent, and yet it held the same solemn grandeur as if Jingu itself had been transplanted into the earth. A staggering artifice. He already knew it was not built for worship. It was built to cover, to contain, to seal. Why else use blackwood, iron, and lead in construction? Why else would it be so utterly devoid of people? This was a dungeon. This was a weight pressing down from above.

"...What are you scared of?"

He stopped at the shrine's boundary, steeling himself before crossing the threshold of that shrine—that thing that pretended to be Jingu. He walked the dead, empty streets as he always did.

What was there to fear? He'd seen this sight a thousand times. At least this place wouldn't harm them. He walked straight toward the innermost palace.

No. That wasn't what he was afraid of, not anymore. What he truly feared was...

"...Miko-sama. This unworthy Rokusuke has returned."

He reached the inner chamber, knelt, and called out through the sliding door.

"Oh, already? You didn't have to rush so. You were above ground, weren't you? I wish you'd enjoyed yourself a little," a weak voice replied.

"I have duties to attend to for you, Miko-sama. If anything were to happen, I wanted to return as quickly as possible," he said.

"I see. I understand. ...Then please, come in?" she said.

"Yes."

With his liege's permission, he moved to enter—then hesitated. Remembering the Magatama still clenched in his fist, he opened his palm. He stared at the blood-caked jewel and, after a few moments of self-reproach, tucked it into his robe.

And then he presented himself before his master.

"Welcome home. ...Forgive me. I'm so heavy, I can't move..."

Beyond the bamboo blinds, his master leaned against an armrest, exhausted and haggard—the smile she wore could not hide the death seeping through. And yet, with that ravaged expression, she tilted her head and asked gently, with maternal warmth:

"And everyone... what did they decide about this child?"

She stroked her swollen belly, swollen with accumulated miasma and thick poison. And she asked him, the one who had run away without saying anything, with tenderness.

She carried in her womb a condensed mass of cursed Divine Energy, a curse distilled and concentrated.

...Ah. How could he possibly explain?

* * *

"Is this... Jingu?"

Tamaki, who had stepped into that place, stopped her sprinting and bounding to assess the situation. She wiped the beads of sweat from her brow and fixed her gaze ahead, on guard. Even Tamaki, who had been racing without hesitation to answer a plea for help, was forced to pause at the sight before her.

The largest chamber in a complex, interconnected network of limestone caves—lit by spirit-firestone—was where Tamaki finally arrived. And what she saw there was a shrine so splendid that it felt utterly out of place on the stage of the underground.

No—perhaps it was even more impressive than any shrine above ground. The buildings stood in all their grandeur, and the main gate alone was quite an imposing structure, a magnificent zuijinmon gate with a thick shimenawa sacred rope suspended across its front.

"Underground, of all places, with all this humidity... and yet not a single speck of mold—huh!?"

Wide-eyed and bewildered, Tamaki cautiously stepped one foot inside the shrine grounds and immediately flinched back, pulling her foot out and jumping backward, retreating a good ten paces.

Sweat beading on her forehead, she stared hard at the gate. No—she was glaring at it outright.

"Hm? What's the matter?" the beast asked, the one she'd been carrying under her arm the whole time as a guide.

Tamaki looked the gate over, then shot the question back. "Hey. This... wouldn't happen to be a Mayoiga12, would it?"

"...What makes you say that?" the beast asked.

"Because... the feeling is similar," she said.

"You talk as though you've been through this before," he said.

"That's because I have," she said.

Perhaps someone with sharp instincts might have sensed something off without knowing exactly what it was, but Tamaki had the advantage of firsthand experience—from the Onitsuki family's estate, the ox cart, and the Mayoiga of Mount Horaku. That made the realization come to her all the more clearly.

"It's like stepping into another world, I guess I'd put it that way. Either way, there's this feeling of being cut off from normal space, and it's not something cold and mechanical like a Barrier Curse. Inside a Mayoiga, there's a distinct sensation, like you're inside a living creature's stomach."

The moment she'd set foot inside, Tamaki had seen a vision flash through her mind—of willingly throwing herself onto a predator's tongue.

"That's why I backed off. See?"

Looking at the gate again, its design almost made it resemble an oni with its jaw wide open. If she looked closely, she could see the guardian statues peering through the gaps in the latticework on either side of the gate, their gazes fixed on her. They were clearly in different postures and different expressions than they'd been before she passed through.

"Let me confirm something... Is this a trap?" she asked.

"In this situation, no one would admit it's a trap if asked, would they? But for what it's worth—whether you trust me or not—I'll answer you with all sincerity: no. And that 'no' carries two meanings," the beast said.

"Two meanings?" she asked.

"First, this isn't a trap set for you. And second, this isn't a Mayoiga," he replied.

His confident reply made Tamaki furrow her brow in suspicion. "The way you say that... it sounds like you're admitting you set this up yourself, doesn't it?"

"I won't deny that. But it's not aimed at you, and it's not a Mayoiga. We're underground, after all. Mayoiga prefer sunlight. They're not suited to caves. This is Mouse Paradise," he said.

"Mouse Paradise?" she asked.

"Mm. 'Rice ball, roll on, tumble-tumble-tumble~!'2" he sang.

Tamaki fixed him with a look of deep suspicion. What was this, a children's song?

"Earlier, you said that Shinomiya—the True Inner Shrine—was the real Jingu... right?" Tamaki asked, referring to what the beast had told her on the way here while she'd been carrying him.

"That's right. This place is the heart of the Old Capital. The Old Capital itself. It serves as the lid—the cap that seals away the calamity," he said.

"And that's youkai, isn't it? What's that about? How does that work?" she asked.

"To be precise, it's what's on top of the lid. Besides—and you probably know this too—youkai aren't always hostile to humans. If managed and operated properly, they can be cultivated, even controlled. Your own Mayoiga experience is a perfect example. Especially with cultivated youkai—if you handle them right, you can make them function mechanically without ever awakening their self-awareness," the beast explained.

The beast's calm, logical precision had something about it that Tamaki found subtly irritating.

"...There's no danger, then? Anyone inside who needs help?" she asked.

Still—could it be a trap? The bitter memory of the Mayoiga on Mount Horaku surfaced in her mind. She hadn't been able to save them. They'd been beyond saving from the start. A cunning trap set by youkai. Was this going to be the same?

"It's not fair to dismiss the Old Capital as a collection of fools who sat idle while Mouse Paradise grew this splendidly. Rest assured: this Mouse Paradise is no threat to the human world. If anything, it protects it. Mouse Paradise exists to shelter what lies within, to guard the lid," he said.

"And that... is why you called me here?" she asked.

"Out of pity for a fool. A sacrifice. A victim of human-caused disaster. And I recognized you as someone who could save them," he said.

"Hmm... That sounds fishy..." Tamaki said, looking down at the beast with undisguised distrust.

And yet—"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?"3

She still couldn't tell whether to believe him or not, but her intuition—or maybe her sixth sense—was telling her with certainty that there was someone inside, suffering.

Why was she so sure of that? Tamaki herself didn't know. Did she have some buried memory of evidence that made it credible? She didn't know. She didn't know... and yet, she couldn't not believe it.

"...Anything I should watch out for inside?" she asked.

"Don't imitate a cat. It'll frighten the Mouse Paradise—make it tremble and twist the space inside. It's a coward, you see," he said.

"Twist the space... I think I get the idea," she said.

Recalling her mission and experiences in the Mayoiga, Tamaki could roughly imagine what he meant. For this kind of youkai, bending logic and showing you an unreal landscape was well within its power, as long as you were inside.

"And don't use light carelessly. Especially fire," he said.

"Why's that?" she asked.

"Mice are drawn to light. You wouldn't want to be swarmed, would you?" he said.

"...Mice? There are mice?" she asked.

"Mouse Paradise," he said.

"...Right. Of course. Yeah. Okay."

With that matter-of-fact declaration, Tamaki's gaze grew just a little distant. Then she steeled herself. If you will it, it can be done. If you don't, it won't. That's the way of all things.

"Guide me, will you? This is the kind of thing that's going to try to get me lost, isn't it?" she asked.

"Exactly right. Don't worry. My role includes guiding you. I'll lead you there safely and securely," he said.

Sighing—for what felt like the umpteenth time—at the beast's thick-skinned words, Tamaki resigned herself. Whether as a companion or a decoy, she thought, and stepped forward again into the shrine grounds...

"Are you not going to mention the other warnings? Not to eat anything inside. Not to turn around when called. You're leaving those out, are you?" the tiny hummingbird asked, her cold voice striking from behind.

Tamaki and the beast both fell silent, at a loss for words for a long moment.

* * *

For a god made manifest in the world, flesh is a prison for the soul—and yet, it is also the anchor by which the self is established. Flesh gives us five senses. Flesh gives us joy, anger, sorrow, and delight. A god without flesh is nothing but divine authority—a gear in the turning world, a principle bound to the laws of reason. To call that a "gentle soul5"... how convenient a term that is from the human perspective.

So what about Aratamitama4, by contrast? Simple. It's the flesh itself. Even stripped of its soul and converted to logic, a mere vessel of flesh—that body still carries a terrifying, abominable divinity. Bereft of its soul's essence, reduced to nothing but meat, it still possesses the will of a god.

Yes. Even as nothing but meat, those divine beings still possess will.

'The flesh sleeping beneath this land is that meat. He god's flesh. Half-body and Aratamitama. The unnecessary, pitiful half that was cut away from the gentle soul.'

The beast—Nobe—circled around as it spoke.

'A nation of man, by man, for man... ye know that ain't quite right, don't ye? For starters, there was a Tengu among the first comrades. And it weren't just the Tengu what helped him.'

The beast turned its obsidian-inlaid eye toward me, its face a mask of frozen expression.

'...In the midst of countless gods vying for supremacy, ye think there wasn't a single one what thought to ally with man?'

The beast tilted its head and asked.

'That day, the god secretly joined hands with him. Then, using its own authority and the Mirror of Hollow Glamour11, it drew the other gods in... and sealed them beneath the earth. Together with its own half-body, its own flesh and blood, its own Aratamitama. Taking the mightiest of the high-ranking Mōryō6 along as company...'

The divine war that had seemed eternal, the cannibal feast of monsters, came to an abrupt end, and the void of power was swiftly filled—as if it had been prepared from the very beginning. The apes that the inhuman beings had dismissed as weeds, however, built their ritual foundations in the Central Region in the blink of an eye, and before the Mōryō could finish checking one another, the region had become something they could no longer recklessly touch. The finest Spiritual Vein in this land, its pivot, was seized by human hands.

'Which is to say—the dawn of humanity's great age, as it were!'

Clap, clap, clap—the beast deftly applauded with its forepaws, a genuine tribute to a great achievement.

"An old man's bedtime story, huh. ...What's that supposed to mean, then?" I asked.

'Ye don't think she'd toss away her own half-body on a blank check, do ye?'

The beast declared in response to my pressing.

'In exchange for burying her half-body beneath the earth along with a host of Sacrificial Pillars, she made him swear. ...Actually, it'd be more accurate to say the half-body that was gonna be cut off did the swearin'. Just a tiny little promise, mind ye. From a god's perspective, anyway. Course, from the perspective of their descendants, it must've been right bleedin' annoying. The first betrayal built the Saiō. Aye, that was a proper ordeal, that was. Talkin' that one round, gettin' her to see sense...?'

It was as if he had seen it with his own eyes—no, he must have been there, that man's words. The voice of one who had desperately, desperately reasoned with a fragment of a raging god, his exhaustion bleeding through every syllable.

"...So you crash curses into each other and make 'em cancel out, is that it? If you've got someone inside the mess who can keep things balanced, yeah, that's simple enough," I said.

'Ye've got it exactly right. He knew that well. That's why he accepted the pact—'cos the price were so light it were almost laughable.'

After all, gods and humans perceive time too differently, and once the danger's past, folks forget how hot it was. Even if a pact was made generations ago, to a god it might as well have been yesterday. Naming a proxy must've sounded like a terrible betrayal.

'The curse of middle management, I suppose. Even talkin' to a proper furious one is a trial. That's why we needed to let her appoint her favorites. We got off light at that.'

Namely, the mechanism by which the Saiō was chosen. The curse-bearing, mirror-holding role passed from the Emperor to the Saiō, and then they built a splendid Jingu to have the god worshiped by its chosen proxy—though even that pact was later broken.

"And this is the result?" I asked, looking at the trembling flesh on the altar.

The beast reached out with its squishy forepaw to touch it, but the paw passed right through. It gave a shrug-like gesture and continued.

'Not exactly, no. There were other paths for this one. A final mercy. A special mercy. But she threw away even that mercy's hand, and this is what we're left with. ...Ain't that right, Rokusuke?'

And the beast, in the central hall of the 'Mouse Paradise,' looked toward the man kneeling powerlessly beside the flesh upon the altar within. Rokusuke. Of the priestly Agono family. Rokusuke. Magoroku. Brother of the girl called Mari. The former priest who had once played the brother.

The betrayer of the Jingu, who had fled the Old Capital clutching a cursed infant...

"Miko-sama... forgive me, oh, forgive me..."

The man himself was utterly lost in his own world, not even noticing us—no, he probably couldn't even see us. He just pressed himself against the quivering, squirming lump of flesh, his head bowed in mute agony, muttering apologies and offering atonement over and over.

Beside him, I stood, and he hadn't the faintest idea...

(...Right. Now what?)

I glanced around, retraced the steps that had brought me here, and sorted through the chaos.

I fell through a gash in the mountain, wrestling with tentacles on the way down, and dropped into the depths—into the resplendent, extravagant 'Mouse Paradise,' where Hummingbird lay beneath Tamaki. But Azuma and I were separated almost instantly by the internal traps and the Servants.

I'd expected it—the place was built as a defensive mechanism, after all—but the ferocity seemed on a whole different level from what Azuma had known. I mean, there'd been a miniature spiritual detonation inside the 'Mouse Paradise.' They released all the stored "Reiki" at once and blew away the entire otherworldly section we were in. In human terms, it was like trying to remove a cancer by excising the whole organ. Honestly, I'd thought I was dead.

...Until, at the last second, a beast appeared from nowhere and grazed my shin.

'That were close, weren't it? Ye oughtta be grateful. The heat and poison of a spiritual detonation are hellish, ye know?' the beast said.

"Save it. I've stood at ground zero of bigger blasts than this," I said.

I tried to kick the beast at my feet, but it slipped aside with a smooth, fluid motion—a weird sensation, like kicking air with no resistance at all. No matter how much force I put into it, the kick just skimmed across its surface like sliding over water.

"So that's it, huh? You're 'shin-grazing' the impact itself? No, that's not all. That's just a bonus. The real trick is... phasing, right? Sliding your phase out of alignment?" I asked.

That was likely the true nature of the magic I was under. Surviving a zero-distance spiritual detonation at point-blank range in a sealed room, and now getting completely ignored by Magoroku—if it were just the latter, I could write it off as being hated or some kind of prank. But the former couldn't be explained away.

'Bingo! That's the basic function of this terminal, see. By grazin' against things, I can temporarily shift my phase out of alignment with the world. ...More accurately, I suppose ye could say I'm here, but from the world's perspective, I'm in a different time?'

Even if a person is in a certain place, they're not there for eternity. By shifting their phase while staying in that place and time, they shift the world's recognition of their existence time... To put it crudely, if you step into the women's bath at night, the world thinks you're actually breaking in during the morning when no one's there, because your phase got shifted. And the bathers can't perceive you either, because they think you're not there at night. The cost? Well, you can't interfere with anything either, can you? Apparently the thing you graze can also be brought along for the ride.

'This terminal's got a role as eyes and ears surveilling the whole Old Capital, see. For actual physical intervention, best use other means. No need to fight with reconnaissance gear—though I suppose that's just an excuse. Couldn't make it that greedy a piece of kit, in the end. Operational range is limited to the Old Capital, too. Not that it doesn't fulfil the minimum requirements for my existence.'

"...I thought it was strange, but I was right after all," I said.

When I confirmed that, the beast put on an exaggerated, irritatingly innocent look. Whether it knew I was secretly wondering if that was part of its programming, the beast declared once more:

'Let me say it again. I am Nobe. Administrator of this Old Capital. The terminal of its management and operation functions. ...Need a third introduction?'

"Don't be a dick," I said.

'I ain't bein' a dick, though?' it said.

"Your jokes are brutal," I said.

And so I admit it. My mistake. My misjudgment. My jumping to conclusions.

"I see. ...So you're the Old Capital itself, aren't you? No—this 'Mouse Paradise' is you, isn't it?" I asked.

Looking around at the scenery, recalling the ecology of the Karibari13—a close relative, the 'Mayoiga'—I was certain of it. A breed that grows lush even in poor sunlight, I suppose.

From the perspective of the Hundred-Faced Ghost (Nue), who had been head of the Onmyoji Bureau at the time, this was probably a natural conclusion. Why operate solo when you can delegate the monotony? Put the dull management work in the hands of your creations. Which is to say... that spiritual detonation was staged, wasn't it? Fits with what that Nue's creation would do.

'To be precise, I'm also the curse-god Sugami Yoritsugu21. He from back when this land was tamed.'

"...So you're a divided spirit, then? Really, if you've got a Factor carved in, anything'll do as a vessel, won't it?" I asked.

Probably, this 'Mouse Paradise' was the vessel. A rough outline: implant the soul of a divided spirit into the place, after implementing all the functions needed to maintain and operate the Old Capital. I don't know the fine technical details.

"You got any idea what your main body's up to?" I asked.

'I gather information from those who visit this land, so I do. Rumor has it he fled because of his guilt in the Great Rebellion10, didn't he? From what I've overheard of your lot's talk... seems he's plotting somethin', aye?' it said.

"Like it's none of your business," I said.

'They made sure mutual interference weren't possible when this place were made. I took on that pact from the one below. The Minister of the Right at the time had foresight, he did,' it said.

"Wouldn't be surprised if he left himself a backdoor, though..." I shot the beast a skeptical look.

Thinking back to how the original Old Capital had supposedly survived intact, I had to wonder if things were really going to be okay... but maybe the pact we'd made when taking the contract had imposed restrictions on our actions and thoughts? Serves him right, then.

...Though that didn't mean I was ready to consider this guy an ally just yet.

"Magoroku... and Tamaki—you dragged them both out here. What exactly are you plotting?" My question came out like an interrogation.

The shin-scraping meat-terminal fell silent for a moment. It just stared up at me, quiet, like it had shut down entirely—the light behind those black-pearl eyes going dark... then it opened its mouth again, rebooting.

'...Oh, pardon me. I've only got the one processing unit, you see. When I'm running multiple operations at once, anything low-priority tends to get pushed to the back of the queue,' it said.

"You're a piece of junk, aren't you?" I said.

'That's rude. Ah... cough. You know, I could really use a hand from a thousand-armed Kannon18 right about now, yeah?' it said.

"Don't dodge the question," I said.

Faced with my relentless pressing, the management function let out a sigh through the terminal, as if resigning itself.

'...The secondary benefit of this terminal's capabilities is future sight. More precisely, by shifting the phase slightly, I can observe conditions at different times from that coordinate. When the proxy-of-a-proxy Miko23 was chosen, I used that to observe what lay ahead, including the outcome at the end of it all,' it said.

"So you engineered this situation?" I asked.

'Otherwise, I wouldn't have let Rokusuke-kun slip by. In this timeline, I judged that to be the best course. ...Rokusuke-kun's a good kid, isn't he? That's why you acted, and she set things in motion as well. He made excellent bait,' it said.

"She?" I asked.

'Ako Family's maid. It must have looked like she betrayed you, I imagine. And like you were losing her. That was quite the spectacle, I have to say—very much worth watching,' it said.

"The hell are you talking about? ...What's your real goal in taking Tamaki?" I pressed forward, tilting my head at the way that one half of The Ghost spoke. Magoroku was one thing, but anything that threatened to lay a finger on Tamaki set off every alarm I had.

'For the sake of that poor Miko who got saddled with being a substitute's substitute, you see. The reason I need her power... well, take a look at this mass of flesh and I'm sure you'll get the idea,' it said.

"..."

I looked up at that massive lump of meat, keeping my focus sharp. The thing was blackish-red, pulsing with veins and emitting steam. What I sensed from it wasn't anything superficial. It was something fundamentally wrong on a primal level.

(Negative emotions? Youki? No—this is a curse. It's accumulated, piled up... no, it's been stockpiled. Damn it, if Hummingbird were here, she could've analyzed this remotely.)

Cursing my own misjudgment, I pieced together the situation based on my observations.

"Looks like you abandoned the plan to let curses collide and annihilate each other, then?" I asked.

'As I mentioned earlier, that half of the Hinomiya16—the mediator—was rather displeased. It kept getting worse, and now, as you can see, it's caught in a state of neither dead nor alive,' it said.

"Why not just kill it?" I asked.

'Because that half doesn't want to unseal what's underground either,' it said.

"Because that'd create more competition, right?" I asked.

Given that they'd sealed countless powerful divine spirits along with their other half beneath the earth—the resentment from the sealed party must be considerable. Not just in Fusō-kuni, but even Hinomiya itself could face attacks from all sides. Maybe that's why even in the original bad-end route, Kubou never touched the Old Capital. If it were His Excellency the Minister of the Right, he'd probably use that unsealing as bargaining material. It's a mutual destruction scenario.

'...Well, that might be one reason, yes,' it said.

"...? You're saying there's another?" I asked.

'At the very least, if the Miko had obediently offered up the sacrifice, things wouldn't have escalated this far...' the shin-scraper murmured, sounding almost nostalgic.

Sacrifice, huh.

(Judging by Magoroku's reaction... yeah, that tracks.)

Looking at my brother, still clinging to the flesh and repeating apologies like a hex, unable to even recognize I was here, my mind went to his blind sister—the one he'd cherished as family.

The way he'd been drawn to her beyond all reason... hah. Guess it was just how things were built.

'The substitute Miko carried a sacrifice that she had made. But she refused to offer it up. Refused that final mercy. And so she was transformed into this,' it said.

"You entrusted it to Magoroku. ...And you just let that happen. No—you made sure he could escape from the pursuers, didn't you?" I asked.

'Like I said, when it comes to matters inside this land, I can observe the future. It may sound like I'm using you, but it was more convenient that way. I didn't want to give that half of the god any more terminals to play with as it pleased,' it said.

"Terminals... yeah, that's exactly what it is," I said.

What she'd carried in her womb was something born of a god, conceived through the Miko's body. To have that used as a terminal—of course the management side wouldn't tolerate it. Who knows what a container given freedom, the raging flesh and blood of a god, one half of a deity, might do. The reason they didn't kill it... was to reach this moment.

'Good to see you're quick on the uptake. That's right—by releasing him along with the Miko's child, you came. And that girl too... Hotoya Tamaki-kun, right? I've been waiting. For a long time now,' it said.

"Some welcome, if you ask me," I said.

'Precisely because I can see the future. Sometimes a butterfly's wingbeat summons a storm22. Guiding things requires adjusting the process along the way. I needed to know your capabilities and condition too. When dealing with deities, it's dangerous to judge solely from what I've observed at a certain point,' it said.

"Deities exist as facets facing the world, or something like that?" I asked.

'My observation is limited to a single point, you see. There's always the possibility of interference—someone forcing the flow off course. ...And in fact, it seems like it got twisted,' it said.

"...What?" I said.

'Alright then! Let's move on to the main topic!' Before I could press him on that troubling remark, the management terminal pivoted the conversation.

'I've been listening in on you—about your circumstances, your history. Apologies, but I took the liberty of eavesdropping,' it said.

"During the meeting with His Excellency the Minister of the Right, right?" I asked.

'Correct!' the terminal affirmed.

It wasn't hard to figure out. That was the only occasion where I'd discussed our situation out loud. Thin flattery.

'That aside. I don't know what the half of me that split off is doing with its amusement, but this half—I am the curse god Sugami Yoritsugu, and my thought processes and behavioral principles are bound. My purpose is singular: maintenance and operation of this land. Status quo maintenance, basically,' it said.

And to that end, the current system—the continued existence of Fusō-kuni—was what it desired. Because a world overrun by Mōryō19 was far less stable than the human one.

"I'll trust you—since I don't have much choice—but then what?" I asked.

'I want to support you. Though, I can only operate within the Old Capital's sphere of influence. Still, there should be things I can help with. Hiding your people here as a contingency, for instance. ...Or perhaps—and I'm just thinking out loud—have they already made contact with that side too? Offering you some deal? Setting up a special autonomous zone, perhaps?' it said.

"Heh. How the hell do you know that?" I asked.

'Such harsh language! ...So it's true, then. In that case, I could serve as an advisor, perhaps?' it said.

'Give me a break...'

I already had one partner. ...No, keeping Hummingbird here for indirect advice wasn't a bad idea. Aoi or the old man wouldn't get pushed around by this one either.

It wasn't a terrible proposal... but.

"...You said 'that side too,' right?" I asked.

The split identity recognized this support as a transaction. Which meant...

"What's your price?" I asked.

'Hotoya Tamaki. I want custody of her. I'd like to make her the next substitute Miko. Is that off the table?'

...Hah. I figured it'd be something like that.

---

Trivia:

- Rokusuke's father commands him to leave during the council—a rare moment of protective instinct, but whether it's genuine concern or political expediency remains ambiguous.

- The Miko calls the cursed entity in her womb "this child" (kono ko)—a maternal term that deliberately blurs the line between monster and offspring, deepening the tragedy.

- The underground path Rokusuke takes is not merely a passage but a ritual designed to purify and settle the mind, built intentionally by the shrine's founders.

- Rokusuke's bleeding fists and blood-caked Magatama suggest he has been clenching the jewel for an extended period—possibly as a self-soothing or self-punishing ritual.

- The repeated "circling" (meguru) formatting is not decorative—it represents a chanting or pacing ritual required to dispel the warding magic.

- Tamaki's arrival at Jingu at the chapter's end implies she is a responder to a distress call—her role may be that of a rescuer or reinforcement, though the situation gives her pause.

- The council's mention that the Onmyoji Bureau head "originally established this place" suggests the underground shrine was purpose-built as a containment facility rather than a place of worship.

- The threat "like the guardian of the Day-Sealing Miko" implies the previous guardian met a grim fate—possibly the ultimate consequence of failing or crossing the priests.

- Tamaki's immediate recognition of the Mayoiga's "living creature's stomach" sensation suggests her previous experience was deeply traumatic, not just informative.

- The beast's claim that Mayoiga "prefer sunlight" implies these supernatural realms have environmental preferences, making them more biological than purely magical constructs.

- The hummingbird's interruption at the very end exposes that the beast deliberately withheld two critical survival rules, calling into question his trustworthiness despite his calm demeanor.

- The philosophical coda about flesh and gods suggests this world operates on a metaphysics where physical existence is both limitation and definition.

- The guardian statues shifting positions and expressions while Tamaki wasn't looking establishes that the shrine grounds are actively hostile or at least responsive to intruders.

- The beast's song reference to the folk tale "Omusubi Kororin" creates an unsettling contrast between childish innocence and the sinister underground setting.

- Tamaki's internal proverb ("If you will it, it can be done") shows she's adopting a fatalistic resilience rather than genuine confidence.

- The hummingbird's formal, clipped speech patterns and cold tone contrast sharply with the beast's smooth condescension, suggesting different allegiances or power structures.

- The repeated structural marker (Tamaki (she/her)...) appears to be a system or game-log artifact, hinting this narrative may be adapted from a visual novel or interactive fiction format.

- The term "cultivated youkai" implies an entire industry or system exists for breeding and controlling supernatural beings, raising questions about ethics and exploitation.

- The beast's Kansai-ben dialect is rendered as Northern English working-class speech, creating a deliberate cultural dissonance between its divine nature and its folksy, blunt manner of speaking.

- The repeated parenthetical formatting of "Mari" with nested parentheses visually represents the word breaking apart, suggesting the concept itself is unstable or being violently deconstructed.

- Nobe's ability to phase-shift by grazing against things is explained through the analogy of a person entering a women's bath at night—the world perceives them as being in a different time, making them invisible.

- The protagonist's casual reference to having survived a bigger explosion suggests a backstory involving previous supernatural conflicts of even greater magnitude.

- The "first betrayal" that established the Saiō system implies that the institution of the imperial shrine maiden was originally a political compromise born from divine treachery.

- The beast's claim that it's "also the curse-god Sugami Yoritsugu" reveals that the Old Capital's administrator is a divided spirit—a fragment of a greater divine entity.

- The protagonist's observation that "anything'll do as a vessel" once a Factor is carved in establishes a metaphysical rule: divine essence can inhabit any sufficiently prepared container.

- Rokusuke's repeated pleas for forgiveness to "Miko-sama" suggest the trembling flesh on the altar was once a person he failed—possibly the cursed infant he fled with.

- The phrase "the dawn of humanity's great age" is punctuated by the fractured repetition of "Mari," implying that this dawn was built upon a foundational betrayal or sacrifice.

- The beast's mention that the Minister of the Right "had foresight" in preventing mutual interference suggests that the political architecture of the Old Capital was designed with deliberate checks and balances against divine meddling.

- The terminal's casual deflection using "processing unit" excuses frames its manipulation as mere system limitations, deflecting moral responsibility onto technical constraints.

- Rokusuke's internal curse diagnosis transitions from "negative emotions" through "Youki" before settling on "curse," showing his analytical process narrowing from general to specific supernatural threat assessment.

- The repeated "Miko" hierarchy—proxy, proxy-of-a-proxy, substitute, stand-in—reveals a system that commodifies shrine maidens as replaceable spiritual hardware rather than individuals.

- Magoroku's obsessive devotion to his blind sister is retroactively revealed as engineered attachment, making his current catatonic state a double tragedy: he lost both the sister and the authentic nature of his love.

- The terminal's admission that observation is "limited to a single point" suggests it cannot see the full timeline, only selected coordinates, making its confidence precarious.

- The phrase "that side too" implies Rokusuke has already negotiated with the god's other half, creating a political triangle where both halves of Sugami Yoritsugu are independently courting him.

- Tamaki being named as the desired "next substitute Miko" recontextualizes the entire rescue mission as a transaction where Rokusuke's protective instincts are being weaponized against him.

- The "thousand-armed Kannon" reference carries Buddhist resonance—the terminal's casual use of religious imagery while orchestrating human sacrifice creates deliberate sacrilegious dissonance.

- The flesh mass is identified as the product of virgin birth through a Miko, making the cursed lump a divine fetus gone wrong—a corrupted incarnation.

- Rokusuke's internal recognition that "it was just how things were built" regarding Magoroku's devotion suggests he's accepting that even authentic emotions can be synthetically manufactured.

---

Translation Notes:

1↵ The official residence of the Saiō, an imperial princess serving at the Ise Grand Shrine. In context, it refers to the entire shrine complex where the Miko and her attendants reside. The term is preserved to maintain the historical/cultural weight of the setting.

2↵ A Japanese folk tale about a rice ball that rolls away into a mouse hole, leading to a mouse paradise. The beast's playful song reference creates an unsettling contrast with the dangerous underground setting.

3↵ Japanese version of "Nothing ventured, nothing gained." Literally: "If you don't enter the tiger's cave, you won't catch the tiger's cub." Tamaki uses this to steel herself despite her doubts.

4↵ The "rough" or "wild" soul aspect in Shinto theology, typically associated with divine violence and wrath. In this text, it is redefined as "the flesh itself"—a deliberately heretical inversion of traditional doctrine.

5↵ The "gentle" or "harmonious" soul aspect, implied to be the counterpart to Aratamitama. The text suggests it was separated from the flesh to create the current divine order.

6↵ Malevolent spirits from Chinese and Japanese mythology, often associated with mountains and rivers. In this context, they are ranked and powerful entities within the divine hierarchy.

7↵ Historically, an unmarried imperial princess who served at the Ise Shrine. In this narrative, the institution is recontextualized as a mechanism for curse-bearing and divine appeasement—a political compromise born from betrayal.

8↵ A Shinto shrine, but in this context specifically refers to the institution that housed the cursed infant and later became the site of betrayal and divine retribution.

9↵ The historical Japanese government agency responsible for divination, astrology, and spiritual affairs. In this narrative, it serves as the administrative body that managed supernatural elements of the realm.

10↵ An implied historical conflict referenced as the reason for the protagonist's current investigation and the beast's knowledge of divine politics.

11↵ A divine artifact used by the god to draw other gods into the sealing ritual. Its name suggests it creates false or distorted reflections—perhaps manipulating divine perception.

12↵ A term from Japanese folklore referring to a "lost house" or mysterious mansion that appears in mountains. Here used as a comparative to the Mouse Paradise's ecology.

13↵ Likely a type of supernatural structure or entity related to the Mayoiga, described as a "close relative" in terms of ecological behavior.

14↵ A classical literary name for Japan, used here as the in-world nation name. Carries mythological weight suggesting the setting is an alternate or ancient version of Japan.

15↵ A shrine maiden who serves as a spiritual medium. In this context, Mikos are used as literal vessels for divine entities, making their role far darker than historical shrine maidens. The hierarchy of "proxy" and "substitute" Mikos indicates they're treated as interchangeable components.

16↵ Literally "Sun Shrine." Refers to the shrine dedicated to the solar deity (Amaterasu in Japanese mythology). The "sundered half" mentioned is one half of a god associated with this shrine.

17↵ A Japanese supernatural term meaning "demonic aura" or "malevolent energy." Distinct from a curse in that it's ambient rather than targeted. Rokusuke rejects this diagnosis in favor of the more specific "curse."

18↵ A bodhisattva of mercy in Buddhist tradition, depicted with a thousand arms to reach all suffering beings. Using this as a casual hyperbole while literally discussing divine manipulation adds ironic dissonance.

19↵ Malevolent spirits or demons in Japanese folklore. The terminal notes that a world overrun by Mōryō is less stable than human society, justifying its desire for the current system's preservation.

20↵ Refers to the ancient capital of Japan (historically Kyoto). In this context, it's a specific in-world location that survived the original work's narrative events. The "original work" is the story Rokusuke remembers.

21↵ The curse god's name. The terminal identifies itself as one half of this deity, bound to maintain the land. The name itself means "curse god" (祟神), indicating its fundamental nature as a bringer of calamity.

22↵ An idiomatic rendering of the butterfly effect, where small actions can have large consequences. The terminal uses this to justify its meticulous manipulation of events.

23↵ Refers to a Miko who is a stand-in for another stand-in—someone who was never meant to hold divine power but was forced into the role. The terminal uses this term to emphasize the cruelty of the situation.