Tokyo: Proving one's position from behind the scenes

Yamazaki set off immediately after receiving Murai's message.

By the time the car arrived in Izumi City, Osaka Prefecture, it was already daylight. The morning light shone from behind the hills, bathing the ruins of the entire temple in a gentle orange hue.

The left-hand gatepost had broken off at its base, the peeling red lacquer revealing the broken wood, starkly bright in the morning light. A ridge had been raised along the dirt path leading to the temple, with pebbles and dirt rolling down its sides to expose the darker, damp soil beneath. The temple itself had completely collapsed, fragments of gray tiles spreading outwards from the ruins like a flattened gray flower.

The cordon had been set up, its surface gleaming coldly in the morning light. The cordon encircled the ruins of the entire temple, starting from the dirt road outside the gate, extending along the collapsed wall, bypassing the collapsed Buddhist hall, and reaching the edge of the woods behind the temple.

Two men in black tactical uniforms stood outside the cordon. They wore helmets, goggles that covered the upper half of their faces, and magazine pouches and communicators hung on the chest of their tactical vests. They held weapons and stood in a position that blocked the only gap leading to the center of the ruins. There was a badge on the shoulder of their tactical uniforms that he had never seen before.

Yamazaki got out of the car, and the sound of the car door closing was particularly loud in the quiet of the early morning.

He took two steps toward the cordon and then stopped.

Commissioner Smith stood beside the crooked gate, a cup of coffee in his hand, a stark contrast to the collapsed shrine, the shattered gray tiles, and the leaning wooden pillars around him. Today, he wore a khaki short-sleeved shirt with the silver eagle emblem pinned to the collar, the hem tucked into his trousers, making him look like he was on a picnic.

Commissioner Smith took the coffee cup from his lips and raised it towards Yamazaki as if to say hello.

Yamazaki walked to the front of the cordon. The two men in tactical uniforms glanced at him but made no move aside. Commissioner Smith walked over from beside the gate, went to the inside of the cordon, and stood face to face with Yamazaki, separated by the silver-gray cordon.

"Director Yamazaki, you're here very quickly. Would you like a cup of coffee?"

Yamazaki didn't respond to that. His gaze passed over Commissioner Smith's shoulder and landed on the massive corpse in the center of the ruins. The grayish-white chitinous shell gleamed with a dull, old plaster-like color in the morning light. The edges of the abdominal fissure had dried, and the grayish-white mucus had solidified into a thin film, covering the surface of the fissure.

Several people in white hazmat suits were squatting next to the body, taking samples from it with tools. Their suits bore the same unfamiliar badges, and their movements were practiced and efficient.

"This is island nation territory," Yamazaki said without much hope.

Commissioner Smith took a sip of coffee.

"Of course. So we're just assisting. According to our cooperation agreement, the US has joint authority over incidents involving unconventional energy. Would you like me to have someone bring you the text of the agreement for your review?"

Yamazaki did not speak.

A black sedan came from the other side of the dirt road, much slower than Yamazaki's car. The wheels made a soft rustling sound as they rolled over the gravel. The car stopped behind Yamazaki's car, and the driver got out and opened the back door.

A man in a dark gray suit got out of the car.

He was around fifty years old, with short hair and neatly trimmed sideburns, revealing slightly lighter skin behind his ears. His suit was made of fine fabric, gleaming faintly in the morning light. A dark blue tie was tied at the collar of his shirt, the knot meticulously knotted. His face was square, with broad cheekbones and a slightly downturned mouth, giving him a natural, effortless seriousness.

Hashimoto, the head of the Osaka Prefectural Police Headquarters. Yamazaki had met him several times, all at meetings in Tokyo.

Hashimoto walked to the front of the cordon and stood next to Yamazaki. The two of them stood face to face with Commissioner Smith across the silver-gray cordon. Hashimoto glanced at the two men in tactical uniforms, then at the white hazmat suits being used for sampling in the center of the ruins, and finally fixed his gaze on Commissioner Smith's face.

Commissioner Smith switched the coffee cup from his right hand to his left.

"Chief Hashimoto, thank you for arriving so quickly. I was just about to send someone to pick you up. The situation on site is rather complicated. Our people are currently collecting initial samples, and we will need to discuss the follow-up procedures with you both."

Commissioner Smith placed his coffee cup on a post of the cordon, took a folded piece of paper from his pocket, unfolded it, and handed it to the cordon. Hashimoto took the paper, and Yamazaki glanced at it. It was a printed document, bearing the insignia of the U.S. Army Department at the top, with two signatures and a date at the bottom. The date was today.

"According to the supplementary agreement to the U.S.-China Security Treaty, the U.S. has the right to conduct joint investigations and take action at sites involving unconventionally armed individuals who may threaten the safety of American citizens. The electronic version of this document was sent to the Ministry of Foreign Affairs at 3:00 AM, and the paper version is currently going through official channels. If either of you has any questions, you can contact the Ministry of Foreign Affairs for confirmation."

Hashimoto folded the paper back to its original shape and handed it back to Commissioner Smith, his expression unchanged.

"Where is the abbot of the temple?" Yamazaki asked.

Commissioner Smith gestured with his chin toward the other side of the ruins.

Maeda Shunichi sat cross-legged on a broken beam at the edge of the Buddhist temple ruins. He was still wearing his gray monk's robe, the hem of which was covered in mud and pebbles. His hands rested on his knees, his fingers slightly curled, palms down. The morning light shone on his face, an expressionless face etched with the marks of time. His eyes were open, fixed on the pile of rubble before him, motionless, like a wooden sculpture placed amidst the ruins.

On the crossbeam beside him lay a Ganoderma lucidum. Its cap was grayish-white, fan-shaped, with curled edges, and its stem was short and thick. The surface of the cap was covered with fine, dark brown veins, gleaming with a cool, eerie sheen in the morning light.

Yamazaki looked at Maeda Shunichi for a few seconds.

"I want to go in and talk to him."

Commissioner Smith paused for a moment, then nodded. He gestured to the two men in tactical uniforms, one of whom turned around and pulled a gap in the silver-gray barrier in the middle, just wide enough for one person to squeeze through sideways.

Yamazaki and Hashimoto walked one after the other through the gap, past the crooked mountain gate, through the arched approach, and past the scattered broken tiles and logs. Hashimoto's leather shoes made a soft crunching sound on the broken tiles.

"Abbot Maeda," Yamazaki bowed slightly. "I am Yamazaki from the Metropolitan Police Department. This is Chief Hashimoto from the Osaka Prefectural Police."

Shunichi Maeda clasped his hands together and bowed slightly in return. The movement was very light, as if he were doing something that required conserving energy.

"I've already heard about Master Jiriku," Yamazaki said. "He did it to protect you and this temple."

Maeda Shunichi remained silent. His gaze shifted from Yamazaki No to the massive corpse in the center of the ruins, then to the white hazmat suits being used for sampling beside the corpse, before finally settling on the Ganoderma lucidum mushroom beside him.

"Before his passing, Master Jiraiya passed on his magical power to you." Yamazaki's voice was not loud, but every word was spoken steadily. "You are now the third... Awakened One."

Shunichi Maeda's lips moved slightly.

"Awakened One." He repeated the three words, as if chewing on a fruit he had never tasted before, the sour juice slowly spreading in his mouth. "This humble monk knows nothing of awakening or not. Master Dilu gave this to me, so I must guard it."

"What are you guarding?"

"This temple," said Shunichi Maeda, "is guarded by Master Jiriku for over sixty years, by my father for his entire life, by every ancestor for his entire life, and now it is my turn."

Just as Yamazaki was about to speak, Commissioner Smith's voice came from behind him.

"Abbot Maeda."

Commissioner Smith walked up behind Maeda Shunichi, his military boots treading firmly on the broken tiles and logs.

He walked up to Shunichi Maeda and stopped. Then he took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to him with both hands. The business card was white, made of thick paper, and had one line of English and one line of Japanese printed on it. The English was on top, and the Japanese was on the bottom.

"Master Fazhen," he said, using the Buddhist name of Maeda Shunichi.

Maeda Shunichi took the business card, looked at it, and then looked at Commissioner Smith's face.

"The United States is a country with freedom of religion. The law guarantees the religious freedom of every citizen. No matter what you believe in or what your practice is, as long as you do not violate the law, no one will interfere with you."

"On my way here, I already briefed people back home. If you wish, America can provide you with a temple, the location and size of which are up to you. West Coast, East Coast, Midwest, anywhere. We will cover all the costs of building the temple, and your practice and life in America will not be disturbed in any way."

Yamazaki stared at Commissioner Smith, while Hashimoto clenched his fist along the seam of his trousers.

Maeda Shunichi looked at the business card. He didn't recognize a single letter of the English text on the card, but he recognized the Japanese text, which read the name and title of Commissioner Smith.

He gently pushed the business card back, as if moving a teacup that had been misplaced back to its rightful place on an altar.

"This humble monk has been guarding this temple. To repay the kindness of Master Dilu, this temple will be renamed Dilu Temple."

Commissioner Smith took the business card back and put it back in his pocket.

"I respect your decision," he said.

Yamazaki silently exhaled the breath he had been holding since earlier, and Hashimoto loosened his clenched fist at the seam of his trousers. Both top figures in the island nation's police system breathed a sigh of relief.

In the center of the ruins, the people in white hazmat suits had finished taking samples and were packing them into several silver-gray metal boxes. The boxes were marked with biohazard symbols. One of them walked over to Commissioner Smith and whispered a few words in his ear. Commissioner Smith nodded, and the man went back to direct the others to begin packing the earth spider's carcass.

"Then, let's talk about the follow-up to this incident." Commissioner Smith turned to face Yamazaki and Hashimoto. "Both sides are here, so we can explain everything at once."

Yamazaki watched as the white hazmat suits wrapped the earth spider's corpse in a silver-gray film, the film's surface gleaming metallically in the morning light. The corpse was completely wrapped, its eight spider legs tucked into its sides, the entire package resembling a giant cocoon. A small crane raised its boom from a US military truck parked at the end of the dirt road, four steel cables hanging from the end of the boom, their hooks securing the metal buckles at the four corners of the package.

The earth spider's corpse was lifted off the ground.

"The body and the Ganoderma lucidum found at the scene will be the subject of further research by the US side," Commissioner Smith said calmly. "The research results will be shared with the Japanese side in the form of a report. At the same time, as part of this joint operation, the US will provide Japan with access to a portion of the Prometheus serum. The quantity, price, and delivery method will be discussed with you by designated personnel later."

As for the price, Smith's representative prepared three sets of quotes.

Hashimoto watched as the crane hoisted the corpse of the earth spider into the truck's cargo bed. The cargo bed door was already open, and it was empty, lined with a layer of white cushioning material.

"This is Osaka," Hashimoto said.

"Of course," Commissioner Smith said. "Therefore, the drug purchase channels will be open to both the Osaka Prefectural Police and the Metropolitan Police Department. The specific quotas will be negotiated by your side."

In the island nation, the Kanto and Kansai regions harbor animosity towards each other for various reasons. Without a stronger will to subdue either side, they will engage in open and covert infighting.

Yamazaki remained silent, his gaze shifting from the truck bed to Maeda Shunichi. The old monk still sat on the broken beam—he was the biggest winner of this incident.

"That severed finger," Yamazaki said. "According to the previous agreement, Ryomen Sukuna's finger should be sealed by Hoshimiya Inari Shrine."

Commissioner Smith nodded.

"Agreed. The finger has been taken back to Tokyo by the Metropolitan Police Department and handed over to Hoshimiya Shrine. Our researchers have completed the initial energy readings, and the subsequent sealing work does not require American involvement."

A person in a white hazmat suit walked over carrying a sealed box. The withered finger was embedded in the groove of the sponge. The dark brown skin, the yellowish nails, and the uneven cut at the base of the finger were much clearer in the daylight than in Murai's nighttime photograph.

Yamazaki took the sealed box, but even through it, his fingers still felt an inexplicable discomfort. He handed the box to his attendant behind him, who took it with both hands, handling it with utmost care, as if it were a piece of ancient porcelain that might shatter at any moment.