Tokyo: Proving one's position from behind the scenes

Late at night, in the guest room of the temple.

Murai lay on his back, hands behind his head, eyes open, staring at a pale gray stain on the ceiling from the soot from the stove. The one in uniform was curled up against the wall, his breathing becoming even and long, occasionally turning over, the fabric of his uniform rustling softly against the tatami mat. The technician sat cross-legged on the futon, placing the silver-gray testing instrument on his knees, repeatedly wiping a faint scratch on the instrument's casing with a soft cloth.

The technician spoke, his voice very low, afraid of waking his sleeping colleague.

"We've already visited three shrines, and the readings haven't even made a ripple."

Murai didn't respond.

The technician turned the velvet cloth over and continued wiping the scratch. "That map the section chief hangs in the conference room, it's riddled with red dots, not a single one is useful. And that shrine maiden at Hoshimiya Inari Shrine, is her Inari deity real or—"

"Stop talking," Murai interrupted him.

The technician shut his mouth, put the testing instrument back next to the equipment box, and pulled the blanket over himself. The guest room fell silent, with only the even breathing of the colleague in uniform and the occasional chirping of insects from the courtyard.

The chirping of insects stopped.

It was as if a hand pressed down from above the courtyard, silencing all the sounds. Murai sat up abruptly, and the technician also propped himself up. The sound of the rubbing of the bedding in the uniform startled him awake, and he groggily opened his eyes.

The detector went off.

The silver-gray instrument lay flat beside the equipment case. The curves on the screen, which had been calm for a long time, suddenly began to jump violently. The red, green, and blue waveforms seemed to be pushed upwards from the bottom of the screen by something, with peaks breaking through the upper limit of the scale one after another. The instrument emitted a series of short beeps, not loud, but particularly jarring in the silence where the chirping of insects had completely disappeared.

The tremors began to spread throughout the temple. The tremors were coming from directly below, as if something enormous had turned over deep underground. The force traveled up layer by layer through the soil and rocks, reaching the foundation of the Buddhist hall and the tatami mats in the guest room.

The second tremor followed immediately, heavier than the first. The calligraphy scroll on the wall, inscribed with the words "May you be free from illness and disaster," tilted, and the hanging rope slipped a little off the wooden peg. The equipment case was moved a few inches from the wall, and the metal corner of the bottom left a faint dent on the tatami mat.

The roar came from underground.

The sound was not loud, and after being filtered by the thick layer of soil and the foundation of the Buddhist temple, only an extremely blurry outline remained. However, the outline itself was enough to make it clear that it was not the call of any known animal.

Murai was the first to stand up. He grabbed the testing equipment and clutched it to his chest; the waveforms on the screen were still fluctuating wildly, and the buzzing sound mingled with the low-frequency roars coming from underground. The technician grabbed the equipment case, not even having time to close the lid, the charging cable of the probe still dangling, the end bouncing on the ground as it was dragged towards the door. The one in uniform had already opened the guest room door, the wooden door slamming against the frame with a dull thud.

The corridor was darker than the guest room. The overhead lights were off, and only a sliver of moonlight filtered in from the courtyard, casting a thin, grayish-white glow on the wooden floor. The three of them ran down the corridor, their footsteps echoing back and forth in the narrow wooden passageway, creating a dull thud.

At the entrance of the Buddhist temple, they encountered Maeda Shunichi.

The old monk wore a thin gray robe, and his wooden clogs were not on properly. His right clog was dangling on his heel, and the wooden teeth of the clogs made a crisp sound as they hit the threshold of the Buddhist hall. In his hand, he held a string of prayer beads, the string of which was very taut, and the beads squeezed against each other, making a creaking sound.

The four of them rushed out of the mountain gate one after the other.

On the dirt road outside the mountain gate, the moonlight illuminated a grayish-white expanse. The shadows of the miscellaneous trees were cast long on the ground by the moonlight. The wind had stopped sometime earlier, and the treetops were motionless. The elongated shadows were also motionless, as if nailed to the ground.

Akira Nagayama stood right in the middle of the dirt road.

The crimson robe, bathed in moonlight, took on a deeper color than during the day, somewhere between dried blood and withered red leaves. The hem of the robe spread out on the dirt road, its edges adorned with a few withered leaves blown down by the wind during the day. His white beard reached his chest, each hair gleaming silvery-white in the moonlight. His hands were clasped together, his posture unlike that of an elderly man.

Murai stopped three steps away from him, the testing device still beeping in his arms, the buzzing even more rapid than before, the waveforms on the screen almost bursting the entire display area. The technician and his uniformed colleagues also stopped behind him.

"Master." Maeda Shunichi's voice came from behind the group. He shuffled along the dirt road in his wooden clogs, walking slowly to Nagayama Akira's side. "There's something underground."

His mind connected the aging monk, whose appearance had changed in sixty years, with the strange events of tonight.

Akira Nagayama nodded slowly, as if confirming something he already knew would happen sooner or later.

"Earth spider," he said.

Tsuchigumo is a widely circulated yokai (supernatural creature) in Japan, and it still exists as an antagonist in many cultural and entertainment works.

"The offspring of the Earth Spider." Nagayama Akira's voice was unhurried, with each word spaced perfectly even, like a string of finely polished prayer beads being twirled between his fingers. "They were sealed beneath the temple foundation by the disciple of Master Kanjin over a thousand years ago."

His gaze shifted from Maeda Shunichi to the roof of the Buddhist temple behind the mountain gate. The gray tiles gleamed with a cold white light under the moonlight, and the shadows between the tiles were more than twice as deep as during the day, like lines repeatedly drawn with an ink brush.

"The one who cast the seal was your ancestor, and your lineage has guarded this seal for generations." His gaze returned to Maeda Shunichi's face. "Did your father teach you the method to maintain the seal?"

Maeda Shunichi's lips moved slightly. The moonlight shone on his face, casting two shadows below his cheekbones that were even deeper than during the day. His lips moved several times, but in the end, he only managed to utter an extremely dry syllable, like the sound of the last drop of water being sucked from the bottom of a teacup.

"Never."

Akira Nagayama remained silent for a few moments.

"Your father passed away suddenly. The sealing technique failed to be passed down, which is not your fault." He paused, "For over sixty years, no one has maintained it, and the seal has long since loosened. In addition—"

His gaze shifted from Maeda Shunichi to the grove of mixed trees at the end of the dirt road, which was bathed in the moonlight and appeared grayish-white.

"A thousand years ago, there was a demon named Ryomen Sunu. His fingers were scattered throughout the world. Buddha said that the evil energy of one of his fingers seeped into this place under the seal along the earth's veins and was devoured by the offspring of the earth spider. The evil energy and demonic power have merged, and the seal will be broken tonight."

The moment Murai heard the words "Ryomen Sukuna," his fingers tightened around the testing device. The machine's beeping continued in his arms, and the waveforms on the screen jumped wildly, but he didn't look down at it. He looked at Nagayama Akira's face, at the dark luster of the crimson robe under the moonlight, and at every single silver strand of his white beard, motionless in the still air.

This person knows about Ryoumen Sukuna. The four words this person uttered are the same name spoken by the shrine maiden in white robes and scarlet hakama at Hoshimiya Inari Shrine.