The So-Called Onmyōji

Ban watched the scene unfold before him in silence.

He couldn't understand it, but he was able to answer Izuna's questions, and the conversation between the two had a familiarity that no one else could interfere with.

Could it be that this Mokushō knew Izuna before?

But if they truly knew each other, how could Izuna not know that he was Tengu?

Izuna caught a glimpse of Madara's thoughtful expression out of the corner of his eye, and only then did he belatedly realize what was going on.

I was too excited just now. I shouldn't have recognized myself with Mokushō. If my fellow villager had immediately revealed that I wasn't Izuna, the image he'd worked so hard to build up would have collapsed in an instant.

Look at how Madara reacted when he realized something was wrong! Oh my god, he really is going to kill me!

That's what he was thinking, but outwardly he calmly steered the conversation back on track. "So how do you start this natural flame?"

"Hmm, I really don't know. Maybe it would help if you were more emotionally agitated?" Mokushō naturally shrugged off and sat down again. "By the way, I don't think I've introduced myself yet."

"Didn't you say you were Tree Yokai?"

"Well, to be precise, before she became a shikigami, she was Tree Yokai Shikigami."

Izuna frowned. "What's the difference?"

"After becoming Shikigami, due to the Contract, I am unable to directly use my own abilities."

Izuna gave me a classic Dead-Fish Eyes: "Huh? Then what use are you to me?"

Mokushō seemed to have been struck head-on by those words; his shoulders slumped, his head hung low, and even the collar of his Kariginu seemed to droop slightly. "So, I'm useless after all...?"

No, what's with you looking like a little dog that's been abandoned by its owner?

Izuna watched his performance expressionlessly. "I know there's a 'but' after that sentence, stop being so mysterious, okay?"

"If I weren't capable, would you still not want me...?" Mokushō's voice trailed off.

"We're not familiar with each other." Izuna said coldly.

"We clearly exchanged the password..."

Izuna thought to himself, "Haha, as expected of my fellow townsman, so abstract."

Ban looked at Mokushō, whose head was drooping and whose voice was getting softer and softer. He clearly had something to say but was deliberately beating around the bush and waiting for someone to ask him. Ban felt that this state seemed a little familiar.

"But—" Mokushō grinned, "If you really want me that much..."

"Hehe, I'll terminate the Contract in a bit." Izuna picked up his teacup, his tone as calm as still water.

"Wow! I'll tell you! I'll tell you!"

Izuna sipped his tea, trying to hide the smile on his face. "Little brat, you think you can mess with me?"

Mokushō placed his hands neatly on his knees and said in one breath, "In short, if you want me to be useful, you need to find an object old enough for me to possess, so that I can change form and be used by you."

"Are there enough years?"

"Ideally, it should be something you can carry with you. Jewelry is usually the first choice, and if that's not possible, a sword or similar item would be fine," Mokushō said. "Of course, the older the item and the deeper the bond it has with its owner, the better. If it's an old object that has been passed down for generations, the power it can unleash after I attach it to it will be even stronger."

Izuna put down his chopsticks and thoughtfully stroked his chin.

He didn't have any jewelry, but he did have weapons, all of which were consumables like Kunai and Shuriken, and they weren't even as old as the time he'd been here.

If we're talking about any old items...

His gaze passed over Mokushō's shoulder and landed on the small table by the opposite wall.

The Crow Netsuke's ruby eyes gleamed faintly under the lamplight.

That was something he felt was off ever since he found it in Ōnoki. He even had it carried to the Sealing Squad by Madara because he couldn't bear to throw it away.

He wondered if this thing was related to what Mokushō had mentioned.

Madara also noticed where Izuna's gaze was falling.

He got up, walked to the wall, took the Crow Netsuke the small table, and placed it next to Izuna.

"So, is this thing related to what you mentioned?" Ban sat down again, his gaze falling on Mokushō.

He had hoped to elicit some reaction from Mokushō, but Mokushō merely glanced at the crow and replied calmly, "That's just a Netsuke. Hey, if you want me to possess this, I won't do it."

"Why?"

"There's Tsukumogami inside; I can't possess it."

"Tsukumogami?" Izuna exclaimed in exasperation, "Seriously, man? This whole thing is supposed to be from the Onmyōji system, right? How did this end up in the Ninja world?"

Mokushō was displeased. "Hey, you're complaining now? Aren't Onmyōji good enough? Onmyōji are much better than Ninjas."

Izuna rolled his eyes without any politeness. "But I don't understand! I only learned the word 'Shikigami' today, what do you expect me to do?"

"I'll teach you, that's all." Mokushō rested his chin on his hand, grinning. "Your foundation isn't bad, I can feel it. The abundance of spiritual energy you possess, back in our country, would at least qualify you for a doctoral degree in the Onmyōryō. If you knew some magic, you could even try to compete for the position of Bureau Chief."

Izuna replied expressionlessly, "Hey, I don't like studying, but can I just not study?"

"Izuna!" "Master!"

Two voices rang out almost simultaneously. Ban's tone carried a hint of elder brotherly helplessness, while Mokushō's was exaggerated as if he had been struck by lightning.

"Only strength can give you a peaceful life!" Mokushō lamented, "Truth lies only within the range of cannons!"

Ban raised an eyebrow; he liked hearing that.

Izuna: "Eek. I understand... I'll learn..."

Madara sighed, lowered his eyes to carefully choose his words, and after a moment he raised his head, his gaze falling on Mokushō: "You're saying that Onmyōji are really stronger than Ninjas?"

Mokushō's joking expression vanished, and he said seriously, "Yes, Onmyōji don't rely on Chakra, they rely on 'reason'. Believe it or not, any wooden stick, as long as the words 'Iron-Slaying Blade' are written on it, that stick really can cut through iron."

Ban raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

The "oh" he uttered had a slight upward inflection at the end, revealing a bright and eager interest.

Izuna put down his bowl, stared at Madara, then at Mokushō: "No, Madara-nii, you really believe that? This guy's background is very suspicious."

"Anyway, there's no harm in trying." Madara even smiled at him, a smile that carried a hint of encouraging, almost childlike, encouragement. "Haven't you been needing a decent melee weapon these Close Combat few days? Your Kunai too short."

Izuna's lips twitched. But he did indeed feel a tiny bit... curious.

Can I really do it?

Mokushō said he had a good foundation, but in all his years, this was the first time he'd ever heard of writing characters and imbuing them with meaning. Could that really work?

But Ban moved very quickly.

He first tidied up the table with Izuna, and then went out for a while.

In less than the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, he found a discarded wooden stick about the length of a forearm, which was polished to a fairly smooth finish. He also brought an ordinary pen and ink, along with a rusty old suit of armor that he had picked up from some corner of Training Ground.

He placed the items one by one on the small table in front of Izuna. The sound of the iron armor hitting the ground was dull and heavy, clearly indicating that it was an old and genuine piece of equipment.

"Give it a try," Madara said. He didn't pressure Izuna, but simply handed him the pen and looked at him with his dark eyes.

Izuna hesitated before taking the pen, twirling his fingertips on the rough handle, and then looked down at the wooden stick lying across his knees.

Mokushō's voice carried a hint of laughter. "Write it down, it's just three words, much simpler than your hand seals. Concentrate, keep your mind pure, and imagine that wooden stick as a knife."

Izuna took a deep breath.

He held the pen and carefully wrote three characters on the flat side of the wooden stick.

Iron-Slaying Blade.

The moment he made the last stroke, he felt an indescribable, warm current surge from his fingertips up his arm, as if an invisible thread connected his consciousness to the wooden stick.

The ordinary, slightly splintered, broken wooden stick suddenly felt different in his hand; it was no longer a light, flimsy piece of scrap, but something heavy and with a sharp, pointed edge.

He could sense that it could do it.

Izuna gripped the wooden stick, couldn't resist giving it a light swing in mid-air, then looked at the armored man, raised the stick above his head, and brought it down on his head.

"Clang--!"

After the dull thud of a blunt object striking iron, there was a crisp, metallic "crack."

The old, discarded armor was split in two from the middle, its edges as if cut by a real blade, neatly cleaved in two. The two halves fell to the floor with a "clang," their cut surfaces gleaming with a brand-new metallic sheen.

Izuna stood there, stunned.

He examined the wooden stick from both sides twice, then slowly raised his head, a slight, uncontrollable smirk creeping onto his lips, which he forced down, feigning a nonchalant "Oh, so be it" expression.

Mokushō clapped his hands three times at the opportune moment, his face full of smug satisfaction, as if to say, "See, I told you so!"

Ban stared at the iron armor on the ground, split in two by a wooden stick, and remained silent for two seconds.

Then he turned his head slightly to look at Izuna, his eyes reflecting the lamplight, shining incredibly brightly.

"Izuna, learn."