I planted a sacred tree in Tokyo.

Chapter 170 Reunion in the Underworld
"This is... a monk's robe?"

Ishikawa, who was on guard behind, slowly approached and glanced at what his companion was holding.

What the hell?

The island nation is predominantly Buddhist, with over 70,000 temples. However, the mountain range where they live has no temples, let alone monks.

On the other hand, there are many shrines in Izumo: the legendary 'Ōkuninushi' who once blocked Amaterasu's rule over the earth is enshrined in Izumo Taisha. However, Izumo City and Matsue City, where they are located, are in the north and south of Shimane Prefecture, about ten days apart if you walk.

It only takes an hour by Shinkansen, mainly because there are too many mountains.

"Why would there be monks' robes in a place like this?"

Ishikawa frowned, thinking about the topic they had just discussed.

"Could it be 'Nodera-bo'?"

The so-called 'Nojibo' is a monster that was turned into a monk from an island country: Legend has it that if no one worships the incense at a temple, the abbot will die in resentment and turn into a monster; if someone stays at this temple, Nojibo will bite the traveler's throat.

"We've climbed this mountain countless times and haven't seen a single tile. Where did this temple come from?"

The old hunter, who had just picked up the monk's robe, glanced around and noticed the broken bushes nearby.

"This way——"

"Hey, bro."

Ishikawa, standing behind him, lowered his voice and quickly stopped the old hunter in front.

"We should call the police first, given how strange this situation is."

"You want to bring those office-bound brats from the police station over here?"

The old hunter ahead glared at his companion and tiptoed forward first.

"I'd rather trust the guy in my hands."

Ok,

Thinking of those young police officers outside the mountains who only knew how to issue tickets, mediate neighborhood disputes, and even persuade otaku to go out, Ishikawa fell silent.

Trusting those little devils is less reliable than trusting the shotgun in your own hand.

The two old hunters fell silent, their backs bent as they moved swiftly through the woods, their steps light and agile, like leopards or old wolves on patrol. Though over sixty, their physiques far surpassed those of a group of thirty-year-old civil servants.

Soon, the two followed the trail of broken bushes and fallen weeds to a ravine.

Wow~~
The cheerful water flows between the rocks, sculpting them into elliptical shapes and forming streams: shapes that can truly be crossed in a single step.

He raised his hand and made a wary gesture to Ishikawa behind him.

The two silently approached a large tree and used it as cover.

The lead hunter's gaze swept across the stream and immediately locked onto a figure:
It was a young man, dressed in an ordinary T-shirt and trousers, huddled behind a giant rock, sleeping.

He was indeed sleeping; his curled-up posture, furrowed brow, and unconscious turning over all resembled a human sleeping. But—

Who would come here to sleep in this mountain forest?!
wrong,

It's not without it.

Thinking of a possibility, the old hunter sighed silently.

suicide,

Island nations consistently have some of the highest suicide rates in the world, with over 20,000 suicides last year alone. Of these, 14,000 were men: in traditional culture, men are expected to shoulder the responsibility of the family, and no matter how hard or tiring life is outside, they cannot come home to complain, otherwise they are considered immature.

Coupled with the 'reserved' nature of islanders, the pressure accumulates, and they are more susceptible to layoffs, illness, or infidelity.
People who feel they have no will to live will go into the forest and find a quiet place to end their lives.

Not causing trouble for others is also one of the 'core' principles of education in island nations.

"people,"

"No, it might be a monster. Now it's called a transcendent being?"

An old hunter named Ishikawa also cautiously peeked out to observe.

"you--"

He instinctively raised his hand, wanting to stop his old friend from putting down his gun and moving forward.

"You stay here and keep watch,"

With the gun pointed to the ground, the old hunter strode out, leaping a few times between the rocks sculpted by the stream, and arrived beside the young man huddled under the rocks.

This was indeed a young man: short hair (monks in island nations don't need to shave their heads), a fair face, looking like any ordinary student just entering society. His tightly furrowed brows seemed to be haunted by some nightmare, and he held a vajra in his arms, his fingers gripping it tightly even in his sleep.

No, I didn't run away.

"I'm not a coward, I'm a coward."

Unconscious murmurs came from the young man lying on the ground, causing him to instinctively shrink back.

"young people,"

"Young man, young man."

? !
brush----

The young man sprang up from the ground with such speed that he even overturned the rocks behind him with a loud thud.

Indeed, extraordinary.
However, they are not extraordinary beings, but rather extraordinary individuals.

"Calm down, young man."

The gun was still pointed at the ground, ready to be raised and fired at any moment, the old hunter said calmly.

"You have no enemies here, and no one will hurt you."

?

After a few seconds of stunned silence, the young man who had instinctively raised the 'Vajra' finally came to his senses.

"I"

"follow me,"

The old hunter waved, as if addressing a familiar junior.

“There’s a forest ranger’s hut nearby,”

"Let's have a drink first, this awful weather."

The young man subconsciously licked his lips.
"bring it on,"

As the old hunter beckoned again

The disheveled young man took a few steps out, completely dazed.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Tokyo,

Bunkyo District.

"Aunt Miyashita,"

The boy, dressed in a crisp school uniform, nodded and bowed as he handed the dried plums to the woman who opened the door.

"These are dried plums made by my mother herself, please don't find them offensive."

"Oh, thank you very much."

The woman accepted the dried plums, bowed in return, and her gaze fell on the boy's schoolbag.

An umbrella with a bear pattern was hanging on it.

"Chunjun, you..."

"That incident happened a year ago."

The woman was very satisfied with her daughter's childhood sweetheart: he was excellent in both character and academics, quiet and composed, and even so devoted. However, due to an accident, her daughter was never able to fulfill her wish, leaving behind only a remorseful young man.

"If Ryoko knew, she definitely wouldn't want to see you torturing yourself like this."

It took the woman a year to recover from her grief.

But the young man before her was still carrying her daughter's umbrella; and the woman had also heard that he was always alone and had no friends.
If things continue like this, it's hard not to have bad thoughts: you know, every year there are five or six hundred students who commit suicide in island nations!
"You've misunderstood, Aunt Miyashita."

Jun Kishida, who was in junior high school, smiled gently.

"I won't take my own life, please don't worry. Also, please—"

"Just wait patiently, it won't be long."

Realizing he had spoken out of turn, the boy bowed his head and shut his mouth.

"I'm taking my leave."

Could it be...?
Watching Kishida Jun's departing figure, the middle-aged woman shook her head slightly.

Jun-kun, do you really think that the arrival of an extraordinary being will give you a chance to save Ryoko?
Impossible. We are just ordinary people, not those high and mighty figures in the Divine Tree District.

Miracles, no matter what kind, always happen to great people: because only they have the qualifications and ability to stand before them.
Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

"I was a bit rash just now,"

Walking down the street, the boy muttered to himself.

"Now is the most critical time; we absolutely cannot afford any mistakes. We must be extremely cautious."

As he spoke, he raised his hand to cover his twitching lips.

Immediately, immediately, very soon.
Jun Kishida,
The "Rain Woman" in the island nation's extraordinary archives is someone for whom no trace has been found to date, yet countless important figures are eager to come into contact with her!
Because behind 'her' stands 'White Ghost Messenger' from the underworld.

That's the underworld!
What are important people most afraid of?
Of course, it's the fear of death! There is great terror between life and death.

The thought that after a lifetime of hard work, they finally rise above others and amass great wealth, only to end up with nothing, fills them with rage, irritability, and resentment to the point of madness!

Throughout history, countless emperors, generals, eminent figures, and even scientists have participated in this effort.
They were brilliant and capable when they were young, but in their later years they all fell into folly and ignorance, and were capable of doing anything.

It wasn't that they had truly become stupid, but rather that with the passing of spring and autumn, they sensed the passage of time and the approach of death: the stronger a person is, the less willing they are to 'accept their fate'. So they rebelled: building tombs, searching for elixirs of immortality, and even using all sorts of unbelievable methods, just to prolong their lives for even a second longer.

After learning that the 'Rain Woman' was connected to the underworld, the island nation's elites launched a frenzied investigation to find the 'Rain Woman's' whereabouts, but all their efforts came to nothing.

Junta Kishida is being incredibly cautious!

Whenever he went out, he would cover himself with an umbrella and water.

As soon as the battle began, a thick fog enveloped the area; when the battle ended, water washed away the battlefield, so the police didn't even need to come to clean it up.

He always either travels through rivers or crawls through sewers. Furthermore, after gaining the ability to create 'water clones,' he was able to provide perfect alibis, leaving countless criminal investigators racking their brains but unable to pinpoint his true identity.

In the shadows, Jun Kishida has secretly eliminated many 'extraordinary beings' and has honed his water control to perfection.

Finally, 'Ghost Messenger White' gave him a new mission!
Once this task is completed...

He will be able to see Ryoko again, and once again hold up the umbrella they couldn't share that day, so:
Even if I go to hell, I will have no regrets!

Back in his room, the boy glanced at the smiling photo on the table and sat down cross-legged.

"The Technique of Reincarnation in the Underworld—"

start up!

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

The technique of turning around in the underworld.

It's a barrier ninjutsu used by the Sound Four.
Unlike the defensive 'Four Purple Flame Formation', this is a 'mutual destruction' ninjutsu.

Once activated, it creates a barrier, or rather, an illusion, forcibly pulling the enemy's soul from their body. Then, a battle at the soul level ensues within the illusion; whoever's soul is defeated will naturally die as well.

If it weren't for 'Dream Master' Kabuto Yakushi, the Sound Four would never have had the chance to use this move again.

Unfortunately, by the time they were resurrected by Edo Tensei, the Konoha 4 were no longer the same as before. Even on a soul level, they defeated the Sound Four once again, leaving them convinced of their defeat.

Jun Kishida activated the spell he obtained from the 'White Ghost' without hesitation.

Even if it's a mountain of knives and a sea of ​​fire, a blood-soaked hell, what is there to fear?

As the spell was cast

Jun Kishida felt an inexplicable pull, as if his soul was about to leave his body.

No, not just as if! He could clearly 'see' his gaze rising higher and higher, surrounded by his room, with a familiar figure sitting cross-legged below: it was himself!

brush,

The next second, the pulling force from the void grew stronger, causing Kishida Jun's soul to fly off in a certain direction.

In an instant, they traversed thousands of mountains and rivers, entering a mysterious space—

"Hehehe~~"

"Du, you will never get rid of me, not in this life, not in the next, not in the life after that."

The girl's silvery laughter reached his ears, causing Kishida Jun, who was half-squatting on the ground, to shake his head as the world spun around him.

Once his vision focused, he looked in the direction the sound came from: a young man who looked like a college student was being carried on the back of a high school girl, whose arms were wrapped around his neck.

At the feet of the helpless young man were two dogs: a Shiba Inu lying on the ground wagging its tail, and a military dog ​​with its ears perked up and on alert.

The sky was shrouded in gloomy clouds overhead, while the ground was filled with lingering dust and mist, as if the world had merged into one, and everything around was shrouded in darkness.

All around were jumbled piles of stones, and further away were shadowy buildings: some were modern detached houses, some were ancient wooden houses with brick walls, and some were extremely simple thatched and mud-brick structures. The dark, undulating buildings stretched out like tombs. In addition, you could see a few withered trees by the roadside, their messy, horizontal branches resembling ghostly claws.

"Hoshino, someone's here."

The young man patted the girl hanging on his back and looked at Kishida Jun, who was standing up from the ground.

"You were also summoned here by Lord 'Ghost Messenger White'?"

Hello, my name is—

"Tanimura crossing,"

Before the young man could introduce himself, the boy, who looked like a well-behaved middle school student, spoke first.

"We've known each other for a long time. This was our first extraordinary battle, and our first time killing someone."

? !
"You are--"

"My name is Jun Kishida,"

The boy felt it for a moment, then reached out and grabbed it; the bear-shaped umbrella landed in his palm.

brush,

The umbrella was opened and held over the head.

“The island nation’s government calls me ‘Rain Woman’.”

???

"What—" X2
Not only Wataru Tanimura, but even the girl on his back, Hoshino Tanimura, exclaimed in surprise.

"You...you're not a boy?"

A college student and a high school student pointed at a middle school student with surprise and uncertainty.

"Yes,"

"The real 'Rain Woman' is my girlfriend: Ryoko Miyashita."

"I was supposed to be killed by her, but she spared me; she even gave me her power, so—"

"I killed you, Wataru Tanimura, in order to revive Ryoko."

They were not only old acquaintances, but also 'old enemies': during the Shibuya incident, Wataru Tanimura was killed by Jun Kishida!

"I'm sorry, but—"

Holding the familiar umbrella, water seemed to appear out of thin air around me.

"If you try to stop me from reviving Ryoko, then I'll have no choice but to 'kill' you again."

! !
"Gurgle~~" x2
The spirits of the two ninja dogs suddenly rose to their feet, growling softly as if about to pounce.

"Gentlemen, please calm down—"

Just as the atmosphere became tense, a gentle voice rang out.

The next moment, a man dressed in a plain white hunting robe, with plain white finger rings, a white top hat, flowing white hair, a face as white as snow, and unusually charming features appeared in the center of the three people and two dogs.

"My lord," X3
As soon as 'Ghost Messenger White' appeared...

The three of them lowered their heads, and the tense atmosphere instantly dissipated.

They were all extraordinary beings who had made contracts with this being from the underworld; all for the sake of their loved ones!

Now that Wataru Tanimura and Hoshino Tanimura have reunited, Jun Kishida can't help but tremble slightly: it's true, he really can reunite with Ryoko.

"Sir, where am I?"

Faced with Tanimura Watari's doubts, Ghost White opened his arms.

"As you can see, this is—"

"Yomi Hirazan!"

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

P.S.: I recommend a new book, "Past Life Simulator: I'm Really Not Your Husband." You can guess the content from the title, so it probably won't be sacrificed again, right? (Probably)

(End of this chapter)