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The master was at a loss for words at the monk’s resolute statement.

He looked at the monk as if he couldn’t believe it, feeling an urge to snap back and ask if he could take responsibility for those words right then and there. But instead of letting his true feelings spill out, he swallowed them and sighed heavily, as if resigned.

“Right… the government is blocking foreign shamans…”

His honest feeling was that he wanted to say there was no such thing as ‘absolute’.

In a bunker where even the air is meticulously monitored, rats and pests swarmed, and rats roamed around in a sealed ship, gnawing on human flesh—what explained the fall of a fortress-like stronghold?

No matter how solid it seemed, there were gaps, and it was only natural that something could find a way in.

The master didn’t know much about magic or Onmyōdō.

But there was one thing he was sure of: among things humans did, there was no absolute.

Humans are creatures that inevitably make mistakes somewhere.

However, living freely speaking one’s mind was not so easy in the neighborhood of society.

“This is government business. If there’s an issue with no incidents, you’d be branded an anti-government figure, a non-citizen… Even if there were real problems, just covering them up would be enough. They’d get blamed for layering stinky rotting smells everywhere.”

There’s a saying in Japan.

“Cover the stinky thing” (臭い物に蓋をする).

It means not to go digging up or making a fuss over something that smells bad, but to quietly cover it and act as if it never existed.

To prevent bad things or scandals from leaking out.

To avoid damaging one’s face by letting unpleasant happenings spread.

Moreover, there was the concept of “meiwaku” (迷惑).

It was a unique Japanese culture that despised causing trouble to others above all.

At first glance, it seemed nice, but…

The limit of what constituted “meiwaku,” and the standards for it, were important.

Causing an uproar with something bad?

That was definitely meiwaku.

Getting embroiled in something unpleasant and causing a stir?

That was also certainly meiwaku.

Causing an uproar as a victim?

Surprisingly, that too was considered meiwaku.

Reporting corruption to create a social issue was meiwaku, raising an uprising ready to expose wrong practices or crimes was meiwaku, and leading protests for people treated poorly was also meiwaku.

It could be said that the lack of precise standards for what constituted meiwaku led to these issues.

“You made me uncomfortable,” was a reason someone could claim it was meiwaku.

And if one were to cause such “meiwaku,” naturally, they would be ostracized.

Mildly, they could face backlash from group members, or severely, become targets of the village’s collective ostracism known as “murahachibu” (村八分).

No. It would be a relief if that was all.

They could just pack up and leave for another region.

“One must never poke holes in government matters.”

The government is the nation.

The government is everything.

Japanese subjects must be ready to sacrifice their lives for their great nation and be ready to repay the grace the country has bestowed upon them at any moment. That is the proper image of what a “patriot” should be in Japan, the exemplary form.

Yet, to hold a sword backward against the nation that has shown grace?

What does it mean for someone destined to rise for the nation to point a sword at it?

It’s treason, treason!

In modern times, criticizing the government isn’t regarded as treason…

“No matter how bad it gets, I would be branded an anti-establishment, anti-government figure, or a non-citizen…”

If that happened, life would be over.

The government would never forget its grudges and would obstruct all actions, preventing a person from leading a peaceful life. Meanwhile, the masses, who blindly believed the government’s propaganda, would lash out like “a punching bag” given the green light to hurl insults and filth.

Thus, the only words available to the master were merely:

“Indeed. It’s the government’s work, so how could there be any problems? It seems I was overly excited and misspoke.”

“Indeed. Hahaha.”

“Not long ago, I saw a movie featuring foreign shamans on TV, and it was so impressive that I completely forgot that such things were impossible in reality.”

That was all he could say.

“Given the bizarre antics at play, it’s understandable that it seems to dissolve into a lack of realism. Hahaha. Upon seeing this scene, I almost mistook it for a movie set, didn’t I? Since magic is bizarre and can make anything possible, such delusions are bound to occur.”

Fortunately, the monk brushed off the master’s words.

It might have been because he believed the master or because he didn’t believe it but found no reason to nitpick; or maybe he just thought that it didn’t matter either way.

“However, Master, many people are under the wrong impression.”

Perhaps the monk saw it as a perfect opportunity to flaunt his magical knowledge, showcasing the master’s ignorance about magic.

“On TV, magic is portrayed as magnificent. Astrology foresees the future, the Great Ritual of Magic changes famine into plenty, redirects waterways, transforms deserts into lands where trees grow… Hahaha. To those ignorant of magic, it’s easy to see these things as impressive.”

The monk taught the warrior as though he were a naive child.

“However, it requires a lot of preparation. A vast amount of sacrifices, a Great Shaman or countless shamans, and the enormous cost that accompanies the rituals. Only by paying all of these can one undertake such tasks.”

The monk briefly glanced at the wooden figure bearing Ksitigarbha.

“And moreover, you see, magic is handled by humans.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“It means it develops mainly around what is needed by humans. To ensure crops grow well so that no one goes hungry, to chase away diseases because illness is feared, to fight or run away from wicked bandits… It progresses in such a manner.”

The monk smirked.

It was a clear sneer.

“Of course, Japan’s magic and Onmyōdō developed in that way. But… Hahaha! Mold? What use could that possibly have?”

“Hmmm.”

“What possible utility could there be in manipulating mold to create art? Maybe if you intended to establish a mushroom farm it could have slight practicality. Hahaha, or maybe not. It clearly doesn’t seem to be beneficial mold for humans… If that’s true magic, it’s undoubtedly useless, like a piece of trash!”

Thud.

The monk kicked a wooden log lying on the floor, making it collide with the face of the Ksitigarbha he was looking at.

“Creating disease with mold? If that’s the case, one could simply curse. Scaring with mold? How many would actually be afraid of such a thing? And even if they were scared, how long would that fear last?”

“Indeed.”

“Therefore, that can’t possibly be magic. Not only do I not know it, but it appears to be worthless, and only capable of scaring… Ah, the more I talk, the more convinced I feel that this is not magic.”

The monk stopped speaking there.

“Hmmm. I can’t help but think this must be the work of an evil spirit or ghost. However, since there are no physical traces left, it leans more towards the possibility of it being an evil spirit.”

“An evil spirit?”

“Causing someone to be stricken with fear and taking over their spirit for possession is a common tactic of evil spirits. Furthermore, to instill fear, they engage in all sorts of grotesque and sinister acts. Hmmm. The security measures don’t seem too good. Either that or the evil spirit moved with great secrecy.”

The monk concluded.

This was not the work of a human.

It must have been the doing of an evil spirit.

And other experts seemed to nod in agreement with the monk’s opinion, throwing in a word or two that bolstered his conclusion.

At that, the master started to genuinely suspect that it might not be a human act but an evil spirit.

“Evil spirits, huh? Then, wouldn’t that be even more dangerous?”

“Hahaha. Of course, it would be dangerous. But fear not. I shall give you a Dharma chart infused with spiritual power. If you hang that in a conspicuous spot, most evil spirits will flee in panic.”

The monk generously handed several scrolls to the master.

“Hahaha. I put my utmost effort into creating these. There’s nothing better for repelling evil spirits.”

“To receive such a precious thing… Thank you.”

“The fact that you are this grateful makes me exceedingly happy. I feel the mental energy I spent on this is being restored.”

The master, silently cursing inside as he listened to the monk’s bragging, thought,

“Damn that monk. He’s practically advertising for donations.”

But he didn’t show any outward sign of his irritation, instead thanking them and sending them off.

In fact, he even saw them off.

Then, as soon as he returned to the training hall, he hung the received Dharma charts in various places, his face dripping with annoyance.

“Hmm. It is well drawn.”

The master looked at the Dharma chart, which seemed to have been crafted with great care, and while he wore an unsatisfied expression, he felt relieved that the pranks that had angered him wouldn’t happen tonight.

* * *

The next day.

“Damn those bastards!!!”

The warrior could only let out another roar filled with rage.

“Those scam artists…!”

Every tree surrounding the training hall had his face stamped on it.

As if mocking him.

 

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