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The man was said to be a Shinto priest at the shrine.

It was said that he was a young man, yet he possessed enough manners that it was hard to find flaws in his ability to socialize.

It was said he had ample knowledge and culture.

Though young, it was said he was not naïve in thought, possessing the kind of wisdom that sees broadly like the older folks.

Such praise is nothing short of extreme in the context of an Onmyoji.

With a mindset filled with elitism, how easy could it be for an Onmyoji to utter such evaluations?

Given their long history and tradition, and their immense pride in contributing to the peace and well-being of Japan, to hear such words from them is indeed extraordinary.

In fact, they even expressed regrets saying, “If we had met you earlier and made you an Onmyoji, you could have become a fine companion or a great junior,” so how could this merely be deemed high praise?

That’s why they couldn’t help but seek out that “promising ally.”

Though there was no blood relation, someone from the same Onmyoji bureau praised him to such an extent that one could lament not being family. How could they not find time no matter how busy they were?

And thus, the first impression of meeting this “promising ally” was….

‘Is he ordinary?’

The first thought that struck me was of normality.

Contrary to the Onmyoji’s glowing recommendations, this promising ally did not exhibit anything extraordinary. He was handsome, yet when compared to celebrities who made a living from their looks and talents, he seemed lacking, and although he wasn’t short, his slender build didn’t leave much of a strong impression.

Then there was that smile, which seemed to lack any heaviness, and as he entered the reception room, his demeanor was polite but didn’t jump out as remarkable.

But then the next thought emerged: there was something peculiar about him.

‘No. It’s not ordinary.’

Onmyōdō is not a common art.

It strictly belongs to magic, a power befitting the very nature of Japan.

How could the eyes of those wielding such power resemble those of mere mortals?

Beneath that ordinary impression, there lay an oddity that felt like the difference between looking at a shrine from afar and standing in front of a torii gate.

Torii (鳥居).

A colossal gate painted in red.

The priests say it is a boundary and passage that separates the earthly realm from the divine.

Considering that a gate serves as both a passageway and a boundary, one can only imagine the magical meaning entwined within that torii.

The thought of a person connected to that torii is hard to dismiss as simply ordinary.

To deem it extraordinary would be bizarre, while to label it ordinary wouldn’t suffice either.

Though it didn’t radiate a holy aura, it didn’t seem malicious either, and while there was no visible power, a heavy presence of divine power seemed to linger.

That aura felt as if it resided firmly within him yet subtly distanced itself, like a deity lovingly enveloping its priest, a curling of divinity around their being!

How could I express this peculiarity with any simpler words?

‘Similar yet different from other priests I’ve met, indeed.’

Strange and yet strange again.

How many priests had they met until now?

How many shamans had they encountered?

They had never come across anyone with such an atmosphere in all their dealings.

Upon first entering the Onmyoji Bureau and meeting the priest, there was a refreshing quality, but as they learned of the depths and capabilities, it became clear that the Onmyoji Bureau held power and the priests had faded into what is now a mere attraction.

It imprinted in their hearts the reason why Onmyoji has successfully managed Japan for so long.

There are extraordinary individuals among them, yet none could compare with the Onmyoji.

But oh, look at the man before me.

It is as though some hidden divine favor resides beyond the golden thread, and within his ordinary demeanor lies extraordinary depths, truly a priest connecting the divine with humanity, each of his actions elegant yet measured, reminiscent of the movements of the old noble class.

I feel an affinity.

An affinity arises naturally.

My heart tells me this man deserves to be treated well, and he seems more than promising; knowing how our hearts resonate, it’s easy to think he would have been truly great as an Onmyoji.

How could tying my fate to such a person be a bad thing?

And then.

…

…

…

“I’ve heard that a series of dreadful events have been occurring in the Onmyoji Bureau lately. Truly ominous and vile occurrences.”

How could there be any lightness in what that person said?

* * *

Having introduced himself several times around the Onmyoji Bureau and forming some acquaintances with the Onmyoji, the “Saigo Shinto Priest” spoke.

“What was it like back when the divisions were clear? Did anyone dare to defy or invade the shrine? That was a distinct differentiation and order. Just as no one should recklessly step into divine territory, so too should warriors not invade the realm of the Onmyoji.”

He spoke first.

That the current situation was extremely ominous and wrong.

“Indeed, as Saigo-kun said, that is indeed quite a bad situation.”

Naturally, the Onmyoji could only agree with his words.

Although they hadn’t known each other for long, the depth of the bond felt like long acquaintances, and for someone to vent their frustrations about the ‘ignorant and brutal’ warriors, how could they not rally behind that?

That was why Doctor Akitate expressed his closeness by using the term “-kun” to praise Saigo Shinto Priest’s insight.

“But what do those who survive by the sword know? They believe all things in the world can be resolved through violence, that their power grows as much as the blood flows from their swords, accepting it as truth. Though the workings of the world are far more complex, they remain blissfully ignorant of them. They are utterly clueless about faith in the divine, the quest for knowledge of nature, and the profoundness of the celestial movements and starlight.”

“Exactly, exactly.”

“But even the ignorant understand some basics. Just as a rat wouldn’t come and go freely in an empty warehouse, and beasts wouldn’t wander where poison abounds, this is no different. Why would they dare commit such atrocious acts against the Onmyoji Bureau?”

“That’s been a puzzlement to me as well. There have been no unusual occurrences, nor are there treasures worth their attention in the Onmyoji Bureau, so why would they risk themselves to break in?”

Doctor Akitate nodded along with Saigo Shinto Priest’s words.

No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t understand why they were intruding upon the Onmyoji Bureau, why they would go to places like the Onmyōdō Research Institute or the divine object storage room, which they wouldn’t normally even glance at.

Unless there was some valid reason.

If it were something like the Yōda that a famous swordsmith named Souju Masamune crafted, perhaps there might be something to it. But what could they desire in the Onmyoji Bureau?

Useful divine objects would typically be lent to government-affiliated capable people or wielded by high-ranking officials for their own protection.

What the Onmyoji Bureau held were truly vicious or hardly usable items, even described as mere burdens. For instance, a cursed blade that neither empowers nor enlightens but instead causes weakness and lays a curse upon future generations… or objects that offer boosts in potency yet cause conditions where stones no larger than a person’s fingernail protrude, rendering the user sterile… Each of them meant to harm rather than help.

Of course, it goes without saying that while curses might seem beneficial in a certain sense, who would want such items, especially warriors?

Wouldn’t these be items appropriate for dealing with life-long enemies or foul relationships at best?

Needless to say, it makes no sense for a random assortment of warriors to continuously invade seeking items devoid of common attributes to covet.

Ah, there are certainly strange items in the research institute that seem somewhat useful… but as far as Doctor Akitate knows, even there, items that might attract warriors don’t exist. Items that would seem appealing have already been appropriated for the bodyguards who protect the Prime Minister.

“And if they had been even somewhat meticulous, it might be acceptable. A rat would be cleverer than they are.”

Moreover, what drove Doctor Akitate to madness was that these warriors’ methods were so dull they bordered on animalistic. To be honest, he thought they were even more foolish than beasts.

Even a mouse wouldn’t take an easy meal laid on a trap.

Humans instinctively sense danger and avoid it, right?

Yet these warriors continue to charge in recklessly with no proper plans or strategies, getting caught time and again.

One could hardly tell whether they were human or beast.

 

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