Evil Cult * Civilization

Bishamonten was startled.

He knew in his heart that Evil Gods were bad, so he panicked. "I didn't say that!"

Izuna waved his hand. "I don't care what you guys think. I don't care what gods you believe in, and I've heard too much about purifying the world."

I have only one question for you.

What is Civilization?

Bishamonten was taken aback. "What?"

What is Civilization?

Bishamonten intuitively felt that this was not the answer he wanted, thinking, "Why should I answer your question?"

The Banana Palm Fan was given to Mokushō, and now that kid has disappeared. Although he could do it barehanded, in order to maintain a certain air of authority, Izuna pulled the Golden Folding Fan out of his sleeve and patted it lightly in his palm.

"So you want to go for a couple more spins in the sky?"

Bishamonten's expression changed, and he lowered his head to ponder.

Izuna didn't urge him.

He turned around, faced everyone around him, clapped his hands, and drew the attention of those who were still talking, still in a daze, and still moving things.

"It's not just him who thinks this," Izuna's voice echoed across the Ruins, "It's all of you who think this together."

"What is Civilization? Or rather, faced with this Ruins, with nothing left, how would you want to rebuild your life?"

Silence fell over the Ruins.

Those moving stones stopped, those sweeping leaned on their brooms, and even the wounded hiding under the shed perked up their ears.

The eyes of thousands of people were focused on Izuna, then slowly shifted away, landing on the rubble at their feet.

An old man in gray clothes spoke first. He was squatting at the base of a broken wall, clutching half a half-eaten dry biscuit in his hand, his voice hoarse. "Civilization... means having food to eat, shelter to live in, and protection from the cold in winter and the scorching sun in summer."

A woman holding a child nearby chimed in, "It's so that the child can grow up safely, without fear of war or being robbed."

"Now that the road is open, we can do business." A middle-aged man who looked like a merchant squatted in front of the Ruins of his shop, touching the broken door frame. "Now we have tea for customers, and repeat customers when they leave."

"There are people in charge." A young man stood up from the crowd, his clothes covered in mud and grime, his face still bearing traces of vomit from the previous night. "If something happens, someone will stand up for you; if you're bullied, someone will back you up. It's not about each person looking out for themselves, or whoever has the biggest fist gets to call the shots."

An elderly Samurai clapped his hands. "That's the rule. We know what we can and cannot do."

Those few followers who had just been echoing the Jashin Cult huddled at the edge of the crowd; some had their heads down, some were biting their lips, and some were secretly glancing at Bishamonten.

Bishamonten stood amidst the Ruins, looking at those people, his expression growing cold.

Izuna could tell from his expression that this man was not going to listen.

This person has already found a way to die.

He glanced at the Jurōjin beside him, and seeing that the Jurōjin seemed to share the same thought, he smiled.

After a while, someone else spoke up.

A boy, barely a teenager, looked up at him and said, "Civilization is having someone tell me stories, having lights at night, and not being afraid of the dark."

A few low laughs rang out from the crowd.

Izuna smiled as well.

Bishamonten, however, disliked these answers entirely. "They're so vague. Ultimately, isn't it all because you're incompetent that you need these things? The new humans will be far stronger and more..."

"Civilization without human beings is meaningless."

Bishamonten was stunned.

Everyone was stunned, even Hashirama and Madara were taken aback.

Izuna ignored his increasingly cold expression, put the Golden Folding Fan into his sleeve, turned around, and faced everyone.

"I've had suicidal thoughts."

Silence fell over the Ruins. Ban stood half a step behind him, opening his mouth as if to stop him from reopening old wounds.

But he knew Izuna wouldn't want him to interrupt, so he swallowed his words.

"My eyes were permanently ripped off in an accident," Izuna said. "At that time, I felt like the sky had fallen. I couldn't see any hope, and I was filled with sorrow, resentment, and despair."

He paused, then lowered his eyes.

"At times like these, people often think about ending it all. After all, humans are destined to die from the moment they are born. At that time, I was thinking, since we're going to die anyway, why bother growing up?"

"Then I thought, no. Are all the people living in this world meaningless? If so, why didn't God give humanity infinite life and flawless souls from the beginning?"

People looked at each other, puzzled. What was this person saying? Didn't this just prove that Evil Cults were right?

"If only everyone could start over in perfect form. My eyes would return, my despair would vanish, there would be no more war, no more death, and people would live in harmony, happy every day."

Bishamonten suddenly raised his head.

"That's right!" he said, the coldness in his voice reignited by a fervent passion. "That's right! That's exactly what I think! And the Lord Jashin will achieve this goal!"

Izuna glanced at him.

"But the problem is," he said, "If that were really the case, I wouldn't have received my mother's gift, my eyes wouldn't be like Artificial Eyes that I could easily replace, I wouldn't have met my friends, and I wouldn't have come here."

Bishamonten frowned. "Do you perhaps think that a crippled body is good?"

"So you think killing people is a good thing?"

"That's the Lord Jashin-- "

"Evil God?" Izuna interrupted him. "Another Evil God. If a simple 'I am a follower of Evil God' can absolve one of guilt, then what will the dead have to cry out for?"

Bishamonten opened his mouth, but no words came out.

"I don't care what you want to do," Izuna said. "After all, meaning is something that people attach to their own experiences. Perhaps from God's perspective, human life is meaningless. But for humans themselves, the meaning of our lives can only be determined at the last moment."

Bishamonten laughed, "Yes, the lives of those people..."

Izuna stepped forward, interrupting him.

"The meaning of life is determined by every step we take, every person we meet, and every event we witness. We may all eventually die, but the process we experience in this short life is what gives us meaning—that is what life is all about."

"And the accumulation of such lives creates Civilization. Civilization is the meaning created by humankind. Without people, the world would have no meaning."

Bishamonten's expression turned cold again.

"You still seem to think I'm talking nonsense."

"Ha," Bishamonten sneered, "How could someone like you, who has never experienced human suffering, possibly understand my aspirations?"

What are your aspirations?

"To become New Humans."

What will the New Humans be like?

"Naturally, they are immortal, morally superior, and omniscient and omnipotent."

Are you describing God?

"Why not!" Bishamonten's voice rose a half-octave, "The new humans will be like gods—"

"Then what?"

Bishamonten was taken aback. "What?"

"After achieving immortality, high moral character, and omniscience and omnipotence, what would you want to do?"

Bishamonten fell silent.

"Go ahead and say it," Izuna said, pursing his lips. "You're going to die anyway, and no one will kill you right away if you tell them."

Bishamonten thought about it and agreed. Committing such a grave crime would certainly be punishable by death under secular rules. It would be good for him to preach the Jashin Cult one last time before he died. "I want to unify the world, I want to enjoy life, and collect gold, silver, jewels, and famous and capable people for my own use."

Izuna asked, "How can one reach such Barrier?"

Bishamonten straightened his back and said in a loud voice, "Nature is to purify the world, re-establish order, and cultivate New Humans."

"Be more specific."

"The Lord Jashin will first unleash Heavenly Punishment, cleansing all the sins of this world. Everything from the Old World will be wiped out, and then—"

"Clear, how do I clear it?"

"Naturally, we should Sacrifice all the people of the Old World to the Lord Jashin."

A moment of silence fell over the Ruins.

Then someone chuckled.

The person laughing was Hiroyama Takebu, who was squatting on the pile of rubble, still clutching half a brick in his hand.

After he finished laughing, he realized that no one around him was laughing with him, so he simply put the brick on the ground and stood up.

"So you mean," he said, "That we are all 'people of the Old World '?"

Bishamonten glanced at him but didn't reply, though his expression answered.

"You're going to Sacrifice us all," Hiroyama said, "To exchange for your 'new humans'."

"The new humans will be more perfect than you," said Bishamonten. "They will be without flaws, without selfish desires, and will not make mistakes."

"What does that have to do with me?" Hiroyama Takebu took a step forward. "I don't care if you New Humans are perfect or not. I just want to know, can I come back to life after I die?"

"You don't need to come back to life, because you already were—"

"What? I shouldn't have been alive?" Hiroyama's voice rose. "I've lived for thirty years, fished, worked as a blacksmith, raised children, and seen my father pass away. And now you're telling me I shouldn't have been alive?"

Bishamonten frowned. "The very existence of people like you is a sin."

"And what about you?" Hiroyama pointed at his nose, "Aren't you also from the Old World? Haven't you lived for so many years? Why don't you Sacrifice yourself first?"

"I will Sacrifice," Bishamonten said calmly. "After the Heavenly Punishment is completed, I will perish along with the Old World."

"You fucking want to die and then you're dragging everyone else down with you?"

The crowd finally erupted in chaos.

Those who were somewhat tempted after hearing the Jashin Cult now had completely changed expressions.

Some people stood up, some walked forward, and some clenched the stones in their hands.

Those who had previously sided with the Jashin Cult huddled at the edge of the crowd, desperately backing away.

"Does establishing order require everyone to die?" An old woman pushed her way to the front, leaning on her cane, her voice trembling. "What kind of logic is that? Did you even ask for our opinions?"

"Our lives are our own!" a young man shouted. "Why should we be Sacrifice just because you say Sacrifice?"

"Who do you take us for?" A middle-aged man who looked like a businessman was furious. "Cards that can be changed at will? Used and then thrown away?"

"I'm forty-seven this year." A Yakuza pushed through the crowd and stood at the front. "I've killed people, committed arson, and served time in jail. I admit I'm not a good person. But I also raised three younger sisters, saw my father off in his final days, and fixed the roof for the old lady next door. You say I deserve to die? Fine, then count all the things I've done. Which one deserves to be Sacrifice?"

The crowd grew denser and the noise grew louder, surging in from all directions and surrounding Bishamonten.

A child peeked out from behind his mother. "Mom, did that uncle say he was going to kill us all?"

The mother pressed the child behind her back, raised her head, and stared at Bishamonten, her eyes now filled with determination.

"All that stuff you were saying, this 'new humans,' this 'perfect world,'" she said, emphasizing each word, "I don't understand. All I know is that my child is alive today, and will be alive tomorrow. Anyone who tries to harm him, I'll fight them to the death."

Bishamonten stood in the middle of the crowd, the fanatical look on his face slowly fading, replaced by a thin layer of bewilderment.

"You don't understand," he said, his voice lower than before, "You don't understand, this world is wrong, everything needs to start over..."

"On what grounds?" The man gripping the brick took another step forward. "On what grounds do you think you can just start over? Who do you think you are? Evil God? Did you even ask us before you said that?"

"New Humans..."

"New humans my ass!" The man slammed a brick on the ground, sending fragments flying. "I'm an old human! I'm living the good life! If you think I'm in your way, just say so, don't give me that 'new human' nonsense!"

The crowd burst into laughter.

The laughter carried a fierce, exhilarating quality, completely different from the weak, dry laughs from before.

The Jurōjin stood outside the crowd, watching this scene, and the corners of his mouth slowly curved into a smile.

He turned his head to look at Izuna.

The young man with dark circles under his eyes stood there, his hands in his sleeves, his face expressionless.

He only raised his hand to stop them when the crowd surged to within five meters of him.

Izuna looked at Bishamonten: "What other doctrines do you have to say?"

Bishamonten turned his head away. "What do I have to say? No matter what I say, you won't listen."

"Likewise," Izuna said. "If you think Sacrifice to Evil God is meaningful to you, then naturally you'll think what I say, what we say, is bullshit. Those who benefit from the status quo will always only see what they gain, never what others lose."

"That's why you spout nonsense like Sacrifice all of humanity to welcome a new human; it's because you don't even consider yourself human anymore."

Bishamonten suddenly raised his head, the indifference on his face shattering. "I am human! I am a new human! I will lead the new human to a better life!"

Enraged, Hiroyama took a step forward, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked: "You son of a bitch—"

Izuna raised her hand to stop him.

"No, you are not." Izuna looked at Bishamonten, "If you truly wanted what was best for this world, what you should do wouldn't be Sacrifice humans, but protecting them."

Bishamonten sneered, "You yourself said that everyone must die! Even if you protect these people, they won't be grateful to you in the end!"

Izuna raised an eyebrow. "That's true. After all, I tore down their house. If anyone treats me well, I'd have to think twice before they try to assassinate me."

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

Bishamonten gritted his teeth. The tide had turned; logically, he had lost. No matter how the followers of the Jashin Cult developed in the future, they would never become the mainstream.