Tokyo: Proving one's position from behind the scenes

On the edge of the Water Virtue Bad Land, the air was so damp and cold that it felt like an invisible rain was falling.

The Metropolitan Police Department's convoy stopped outside Ayase's drab three-story building. The red and blue police lights silently rotated, staining the walls of the surrounding buildings with patches of color. The police cordon extended fifty meters outward, clearing away all irrelevant personnel, leaving only uniformed and ununiformed officers standing inside the cordon, their gazes all fixed in the same direction.

Hoshimiya Ei stood at the entrance of that building.

She was dressed in white robes and scarlet trousers, her black hair tied back, her hands hanging naturally at her sides. The moonlight shone on her, giving her a sacred quality.

Nagayama Akira stood behind her, wearing the priest's robes he only wore during festivals, the sleeves extending beyond his wrists. He tucked his hands into his sleeves, his fingertips clutching something. No one noticed his sleeves; all eyes were fixed on Hoshimiya Akira.

A dozen or so people stood outside the police cordon. Chief Prosecutor Yamazaki was at the front, next to Naoya Taniguchi, their military boots clicking on the ground, their cigarettes still unlit. Further to the side were several men in suits, their name tags reading "Tokyo District Public Prosecutors Office," their positions subtly surrounding a blond, blue-eyed man. The man was around forty years old, wearing a dark gray jacket with a small silver badge on his collar, depicting an eagle.

Commissioner Smith. An observer from the United States.

The man's gaze shifted from Hoshimiya Ei to the building entrance, then back to Hoshimiya Ei, his expression as calm as if he were watching an exhibition that had nothing to do with him.

Hoshimiya Ei took a deep breath and stepped into the building.

The damp, cold air hit me. It was even stronger than two days ago, so strong that it wasn't just my skin that felt cold, but my bones. The water stains on the first-floor corridor floor were still there, showing no sign of evaporation, and they made a slight crunching sound when I stepped on them.

She walked up the stairs. Second floor. Third floor.

At the end of the corridor, that thing was waiting for her.

Many people believed it was Yoshida Sho, but Yoshida Sho's body had been lying in the forensic department's freezer for two days, and the hole in his chest pierced by coral was no longer leaking anything. Standing at the end of the corridor was a cloud of gray mist, with a human-shaped outline; the shoulders, arms, and head were recognizable, but the edges were blurred, as if someone had drawn a person in the air with translucent gray ink, and the ink was already dripping down before it was dry.

The lower half of the mist trailed on the ground like an asymmetrical tail. The upper half leaned slightly forward, with both arms hanging at the sides. The fingers were five denser streaks of gray mist, sharp at the ends, with a faint glow at the fingertips.

It had no eyes. But the moment Hoshimiya Emi stepped onto the third-floor corridor, it "looked" at her.

The feeling of being watched came directly into my mind. Fear surged up out of nowhere—the fear of the thirty-seven people trapped in that gray mist before their deaths, the fear of being trapped by the evil water, lingering and fermenting for two days and two nights. Add to that the fear of those persecuted by the yakuza—the fear of the fisherman pushed off the boat, the fear of the girl silenced by her mother's corpse, the fear of the yakuza whose necks were snapped, the fear of the boy forced to sign a contract on the tatami mat.

Hoshimiya Ei paused for a moment.

Then she continued walking forward.

He raised his right hand from his side, palm facing up. A bluish light emanated from his palm, first a faint layer, like the pale white of the eastern sky before dawn, then growing brighter and darker, changing from pale bluish to tender green, and from tender green to emerald green. Where the light touched, the water stains on the ground and walls faded slightly, but returned to their original state when the light did not reach them.

Divine light emanates from the plants and trees.

The accompanying spells of "The Prosperity of Plants and Trees," the most basic method for Wood-element cultivators, draw upon the meaning of the growth of plants and trees. They use wood energy to dissolve death energy and vitality to suppress resentment. The Divine Light of Plants and Trees is a prime example of this. Among the Five Elements, wood overcomes earth and water nourishes wood. Water-element cultivators in unfavorable places gather resentment with water, while the Divine Light of Wood draws water to generate life and uses life to break through death.

The outline of the gray mist distorted violently.

It made no sound. Evil spirits don't make sounds; they're not alive, they have no vocal cords, no throat. But the air in the corridor vibrated violently in that instant of distortion, like a giant drum being struck, the sound waves not traveling through the air to the ears, but striking directly at the chest.

The hem of Hoshimiya Eiryu's crimson hakama was blown up by the gust of air, and the sleeves of her white robe fluttered. Her black hair was blown back, and a few strands broke free from the sash, but she stood still without taking a step back.

The divine light of plants and trees in his right hand was pushed forward.

A verdant light emanated from her palm, like a stream overflowing its banks during the spring flood season—unhurried yet unstoppable.

The gray mist struggled in the light.

Its outline began to crumble, gradually dissolving into a paler gray mist from the edges. First, the fingers; five sharp wisps of mist softened, deformed, and dissipated like candles in flames under the divine light of the vegetation. Then came the forearms, upper arms, and shoulders. The head of the mist finally vanished, and in the last instant before dissipating, a face suddenly emerged from the eyeless gray mist.

It was a collection of faces superimposed on each other, so blurry that the features were almost indistinguishable. All that could be seen were expressions of terror, pain, despair, and resentment.

Then those faces disappeared.

Divine light from the plants filled the entire corridor, from the floor to the ceiling, from wall to wall, the emerald green light enveloping the entire corridor like a giant piece of jade.

As the light faded, mist rose again, obscuring the view of what was in front of them.

In the center of the corridor, on the ground, lay something the size of a fist.

Its shape is irregular, and its surface is rough, like a lump of iron slag that has been fished out of a bucket of molten iron and cooled. Its surface has a dark red color with a hint of fire. It also looks like an iron block that has just been taken out of the furnace, and its surface has not yet cooled completely. The dark red light flows slowly inside the iron block, sometimes bright and sometimes dim, like a beating heart.

A Qi Refining level spiritual item, Spark Iron.

【Zui Fire】is a flickering fire that ignites upon encountering wood. In Yoshida Sho's destiny, 【Zui Fire】clashed with his 【Zhen Water】, causing his life to be precarious. After the death of the demon, 【Zhen Water】transformed into a coral spirit, and 【Zui Fire】 should have dissipated with it. However, the evil nature of water trapped fragments of his soul. Then, Hoshimiya Ei purified him with the divine light of 【Jing Wood】. Wood generates fire, water generates wood, and wood forms a bridge in the middle. The suppressed 【Zui Fire】, aided by the wood energy of 【Jing Wood】, flickered and ignited, gathering without dissipating, and finally solidified into this piece of spark iron.

Akira Nagayama stood in the shadows at the other end of the corridor, the glow of concealment magic swirling around him.

His right hand emerged from his sleeve, his fingertips holding something.

A dried-up human finger.

The finger was about ten centimeters long, with dark brown skin that had shriveled and clung tightly to the bone, like a withered branch that had been exposed to the sun in the desert for hundreds of years. The fingernail was still there, a dark yellow color, slightly longer than the finger itself, and slightly curved. The cut at the base of the finger was jagged, as if it had been torn off by something, with fine cracks at the bone break.

This was taken by Akira Nagayama from an unidentified corpse at a suicide hotspot in an island nation. After special treatment, it was kept in a porcelain bottle and was originally prepared as a casting material for the [Demon Gold] spell.

After he resumed his training, he made some more, and now he has exactly twenty.

He held that severed finger, and magical power gathered at his fingertip.

Fog filled the corridor, obscuring visibility for about two or three seconds.

Nagayama Akira extended his right hand, his magic enveloping the withered finger, and silently sent it into the thickest part of the fog. At the same time, his left hand formed a simple object-capturing incantation, and the piece of spark iron on the ground was lifted by invisible magic, sliding silently along the ground and into the cuff of his left sleeve.

Their entry and exit went unnoticed under the cover of the gray fog.

The fog completely dissipated.

Hoshimiya Ei lowered her arm from her eyes, and the radiance of the divine light emanating from the plants and trees slowly faded from her palm. She looked down at the ground, where a withered finger lay.

She bent down, took a piece of white cloth from her sleeve, and wrapped the severed finger. The finger felt dry and rough, and even through the white cloth, she could feel its inanimate coldness. She placed the cloth-wrapped finger into a small wooden box, which she had found at the shrine; it was originally used to store amulets, and it was the perfect size.

Hurried footsteps came from downstairs.

Director Yamazaki was the first to rush up to the third floor, followed closely by Naoya Taniguchi, their military boots making a dull thud on the wet stairs. The blond, blue-eyed observer followed behind Taniguchi, his pace neither fast nor slow, his gaze sweeping across the walls, floor, and ceiling of the corridor, as if recording every detail with his eyes.

"Is it resolved?" Director Yamazaki's voice was very low.

Hoshimiya Ei turned around, holding the wooden box in both hands.

"It's solved," she said.

Her voice was calm, as if she were talking about something she had done many times before. Only Nagayama Akira knew that this was her first time, and only Nagayama Akira noticed that her fingers holding the wooden box were slightly white, because her fingertips were gripping the box tightly.

Director Yamazaki looked at the wooden box but did not take it.

"Lord Mikami, what is this?" Director Yamazaki subconsciously changed his form of address.

Hoshimiya Ei was silent for a few seconds, then opened the box.

The white sheet was partially lifted, revealing a withered finger underneath. Dark brown skin clung tightly to the bone, the yellowish nails were slightly curved, and the fractured bone at the base of the finger was clearly visible under the corridor's fluorescent lights. A faint, almost imperceptible stench of decay mingled with the lingering scent of grass in the air.

"This is the finger of a demon from a thousand years ago," said Hoshimiya Ei, her voice neither too loud nor too soft, just loud enough for everyone in the corridor to hear clearly. "The demon's name was Ryomen Sukuna."

"According to Inari-sama, a thousand years ago, when communication between gods and mortals was severed, this demon was suppressed by the practitioners of that time. After he was sealed, his soul was scattered across his twenty fingers. Now that the seal has loosened, he is using Umibozu as a medium to create evil spirits with his fingers in an attempt to revive. The case of Ayase, the boy possessed by the evil spirit, and the evil spirit that just disappeared were all caused by his fingers. Inari-sama entrusted me with this task: to reseal Ryoumen Sukuna."

Hoshimiya Ei closed the lid of the box.

"This finger is the object of possession. After the evil spirit was dispelled, it returned to its original form."

Director Yamazaki remained silent for a long time.

He was in his fifties and had been in this position for four years. He had seen people kill with knives, guns, and poison; he had seen people kill for money, for love, and for hatred. But he had never seen a withered human finger held in a wooden box by a girl in scarlet hakama, and then told that it was an artifact used by a demon from a thousand years ago to resurrect.

But he saw the surveillance footage with his own eyes. He saw with his own eyes the monster, over two meters tall and covered in scales. He saw with his own eyes the gray mist dissipate in the emerald green light.

"What do you need?" Director Yamazaki asked.

Hoshimiya Ei thought for a moment.

"This is just the beginning. Of the twenty fingers, one has caused such a commotion in Adachi Ward. Nobody knows where the remaining nineteen are. The demons will not stop their resurrection, and evil spirits will continue to appear."

She looked up at Director Yamazaki.

"The Metropolitan Police Department is willing to cooperate with Hoshimiya Inari Shrine in the long term. We will share information and resources. Lady Mikamiko will be responsible for handling these matters, while the Metropolitan Police Department will be responsible for blocking information, evacuating the public, and providing you with all the support you need."

He didn't say the second half of his sentence—"If only I could teach you about extraordinary powers."

Hoshimiya Ei nodded.

Director Yamazaki extended his hand. Hoshimiya Akira glanced at his hand, hesitated for a moment, then reached out and shook it. A policeman in his fifties and an eighteen-year-old shrine maiden shook hands in a corridor where thirty-eight lives had been lost.

Naoya Taniguchi stood at the top of the stairs, took the cigarette out of his mouth, but still didn't light it. He looked at the wooden box in Ei Hoshimiya's hand, then at the expression of the American observer at the end of the corridor, and tucked the cigarette back behind his ear.

three days later.

A number of luxury cars were parked in front of the torii gate of Hoshimiya Inari Shrine. Guests dressed in their finest attire came to worship at this small shrine. If outsiders were here, they would find that these people were either rich or noble, and were almost the upper class of the entire island nation.

The most awkward position is probably that of the chief priest of Fushima Inari Shrine, since as the largest Inari shrine in the island nation, they have neither received divine decree from the Inari god nor possess any extraordinary power.

Extraordinary power is either extraordinary power backed by a god.

Akira Nagayama, dressed in a Shinto priest's robes, was standing at the entrance to the approach to the temple, performing reception duties, when he noticed something.

The spiritual atmosphere is moving.

It wasn't the faint ripples of Yoshida Sho's murder, nor the localized disturbances of the dissipation of evil spirits and Yoshida Sho's passing into the afterlife. It was a different kind of change, slower and deeper. It was as if something emanated from these worshippers, merging into the air beneath the torii gates, into the pebbles of the approach path, and into the gaps in the copper plates of the main hall's roof.

【Ghost Gold】is the gold used in sacrifices, capable of being offered to and commanding spirits and ghosts. The essence of sacrifice is that mortals gather their own will, reverence, fear, and hope onto a single object. In the cultivation world of past lives, 【Ghost Gold】cultivators specialized in the path of sacrifice, using the thoughts of all living beings to temper their magical power, and gathering incense to forge the nature of their gold. The worship of a hundred people is insignificant, the worship of a thousand people can have a significant impact, and the worship of ten thousand people can move heaven and earth.

The disturbance of the spiritual aura spread outwards from the center of the shrine. The amplitude was small, much smaller than the disturbance caused by Yoshida Shodo's transformation into a demon. But its frequency was different. Yoshida Shodo's disturbance was violent, brief, like ripples on water caused by a pebble thrown in. This disturbance, however, was long and continuous, like someone inserting an extremely thin, long needle into the depths of stagnant water and then slowly stirring it.

Akira Nagayama withdrew his senses.

His gaze swept over the roof of the main hall, reaching towards the distant Adachi ward skyline. Low-rise residential buildings huddled together, power lines crisscrossing between them, and a few chimneys belching wisps of white smoke. In this drab landscape, a spiritual aura was slowly spreading, radiating from the shrine with the worshippers' devotion as its radius, forming an extremely faint circle.

It seems we need to make them pray to the gods more often.