Belief

How did you rebuild someone's values?

By changing their perceptions, understanding, judgment, or choices?

For him, all of that seemed too formal, too complicated.

I wanted him to feel more at ease, because understanding this world didn't require starting with the dawn of creation.

I wanted him to be happier, because there would always be barriers between people, and truly sharing another person's feelings was a luxury.

I wanted him to let his mind go blank sometimes, because even adults didn't have to make every decision themselves. Someone could weed out the terrible options for him, letting him clear every stage and reach the finish line.

I wanted him to live more freely, because a father's love didn't have to be like a mountain, silent and heavy. It could be a tree offering shade, or a breeze in the night.

I wanted him to see that when beliefs held him for ransom and his clan took him hostage, someone would come to save him with a hefty ransom and wholehearted sincerity.

I wanted him to understand that what he had once believed might have been wrong, and what he had refused to believe might have been the real answer.

So, back to the original question: how would I rebuild his values?

I would start by changing what he believed and what he didn't.

(1)

While Megumi was still asleep, I stepped out into the courtyard to work out my plan. I had barely taken a few steps when a childish voice stopped me.

"Another one with a heavenly restriction? Quick, quick, quick!"

"Get her over here!"

At the first remark, I thought I had wandered onto the wrong set. But when the children surrounded me in response to the second command, I understood.

This was a children's bullying "game."

The ringleader of the "game" was a little boy standing atop an ornamental rock formation, legs spread, holding a wooden sword.

The followers in the "game" were children of the Zenin Clan, boys and girls alike, none older than ten.

The playthings in the "game" were Maki Zenin and me, both with heavenly restrictions, along with the collateral victim, Mai Zenin.

And the sponsor who tacitly allowed the "game" was the bored blond boy I remembered all too well.

I didn't resist. Or rather, the children were unusually perceptive and didn't dare touch me. They merely surrounded me, herding me step by step into the lineup of playthings.

I was curious about what they would do to me, so I simply stood there quietly, watching to see what humanity's earliest form of malice would do.

Clearly, compared with adults who still retained their reason, children's malice was far purer. They exposed the true thoughts adults concealed behind hypocrisy.

"Have you ever hit a human punching bag? I heard people with heavenly restrictions don't die. Why don't we try?"

The child in charge offered that leading suggestion with innocent candor. Then he looked at me, a kind of hunger showing in his dark eyes.

Was it merely a desire to bully the weak? That would be rather a waste of my time.

I looked back at him and found something in his eyes that gave me a reason to stay.

The children raised their wooden swords, preparing to lash me with their sharp edges.

But before the blades touched me, Maki and Mai beside me reached me first.

The two children, frailer than I was, were only five. They wore dirt-resistant kimonos, and their exposed arms were covered in bruises. They were trembling with fear, yet they threw caution aside and shielded me first.

Just as the blades sliced through the air toward them, I gently caught them between my fingers.

I took the wooden swords, snapped them effortlessly, and crushed them into splinters. This seemingly frail body of mine possessed strength beyond anything the children could imagine.

The children froze. After their stunned silence came an overwhelming fear of the unknown.

They scrambled behind the blond boy who had watched everything in silence, trying to seek protection from the "strong."

Unfortunately, the blond boy had never qualified as strong, whether in ability or in that fragile heart of his.

He introduced himself with spoiled arrogance, then spared no effort in belittling me and women in general.

Words like that couldn't anger me. A human wouldn't debate evolution with a monkey.

I calmly watched him gratify himself with his narrow-minded theories. Then, when he underestimated me and launched an ordinary attack, I decisively knocked him unconscious.

Dragging the unconscious boy with one hand, I approached the ringleader of the "game" and asked, "Do you want me to drag you, or will you walk yourself?"

The child chose to walk, sniffling.

That was why there was no need to communicate with monkeys.

All I had to do was frighten them and then tame them, wasn't it?

(2)

If I had to define what Yuanyin and I used to do for a living, I could only say we were seasoned Mafia.

I locked the older boy and the younger one in an empty room, tying the older one up with hemp rope. To humiliate him personally, I deliberately chose a binding style unsuitable for the healthy development of adolescents.

Then I left the younger one to the side. He didn't dare leave, because he knew that if he did, he would be the next one tied up.

Upon waking, the blond youth named Naoya Zenin began cursing furiously, hoping his voice would draw a crowd to rescue him.

A fine idea, except that if he could think of it, so could I.

I had already sent away the servants around this room. The only people who could save them, the children who had witnessed everything, had obediently kept their mouths shut after being threatened.

I had only four hours. After that, there were no guarantees.

I listened to him howl for a few minutes. Once he realized no one was coming to save him and that being a jujutsu sorcerer wouldn't free him from the ropes, it was time for more aggressive methods.

Mafia around the world had different methods. The Mafia in Yokohama, Japan, for instance, preferred encasing people in concrete and sinking them in Tokyo Bay. In Italy, it was severed fingers and pliers.

I wasn't particularly fond of those bloody methods. I preferred the Middle Ages torture methods Miss Adams had taught me during my travels: psychological attacks and a negligible amount of electric shock.

If a monkey was too noisy, I would teach him to shut up and then become human.

It took Naoya Zenin ten minutes to learn the basics of being quiet.

Thirty minutes to learn how to look at me politely.

An hour to change how he addressed me.

Don't worry. A moderate, healthy current wouldn't do him much harm. Just like the Pavlov's dog experiment, it was merely the sound of a ringing bell.

Brief stimulation could only earn me brief respect. Psychological attacks were different. After all, psychological scars lasted a lifetime.

For Naoya, fearing women could turn him from a monkey into a human.

The next two hours of taming went exceptionally smoothly. The adolescent whose senses had been clouded by feudal beliefs for years finally recognized women's strength.

When he curled up at my feet, tears and snot streaming down his face, endlessly apologizing to me and to the girls he had insulted, beaten, and demeaned, I felt it was time for the next one.

Seated on the interrogation stool was Zenin Jie, ten years old this year.

The little boy cried uncontrollably, swearing over and over that he would serve me like an ox or a horse from now on. If I told him to go east, he would never go west.

I wouldn't be too harsh on children, because they were victims of adult influence.

After a brief lecture, I asked him directly about what I truly wanted to investigate.

"Jie, why did you deliberately target people with heavenly restrictions?"

The little boy blinked and said through sobs, "Th-they all do it."

"Who are they?"

"My uncle, my aunt, and Naoya..."

"Cough, cough! N-no! Don't talk nonsense, you little brat. I really respect Toji."

I was a little surprised. "Naoya respects Toji?"

Naoya Zenin spoke not out of fear of me, but with genuine sincerity. "Of course. Toji is really strong."

I reached out and patted the little blond's head. Good. He could be taught.

Naoya Zenin shuddered but didn't pull away, lowering his head and letting me pat him a couple of times.

I turned back to the little boy. "What has your uncle done to people with heavenly restrictions?"

The boy thought back, then stammered, "I heard my youngest uncle talk about it after he'd been drinking. I think they used to play a game with someone who had a heavenly restriction, too."

I frowned. "What game?"

"I think it was called the B-Beast Arena."

"Who is your youngest uncle?"

"Zenin Zongren."

"Where does he live?"

"The west courtyard."

Zenin Zongren, was it? In the west courtyard? He'd better not sleep too soundly tonight.

(4)

In the middle of the night, I stood silently at Zenin Zongren's bedside, carefully studying this unremarkable man in his early thirties. Then I knocked him out with a club and had Naoya drag him away.

Tonight hadn't gone entirely smoothly, not because someone had informed on me or because the Zenin Clan had interfered, but because Megumi had found me.

I closed the door behind me and faced sweet little Megumi's accusing gaze.

"I absolutely haven't killed anyone."

Megumi looked a little troubled, then burrowed into my arms and said in a muffled voice, "When I woke up, you weren't there."

Ah, I had misunderstood him. He wasn't reproaching me for what I had done. He had come because he was worried about me.

I thought back to the interactions I had seen between mothers and children. Then I searched my mind for the comforting gestures I had once imagined Yuanyin would make.

I rested my hand on the back of his neck, gently drew him away, and lightly kissed his forehead. "Wait a little longer. We'll go back together soon."

Megumi stared at me in a daze and nodded slightly, letting me lead him to a brightly lit room a little farther away.

As I closed the door, I saw that his eyes had grown a little red.

Ah, an eldest sister was like a mother. I should have done this sooner.

I put my cold expression back on. The new interrogation had to continue.

Adults had greater endurance than adolescents, including psychological endurance. That called for stronger, more sustained stimulation.

Remembering that Megumi was still waiting, I switched to a new weapon.

Besides the painful numbness of the current, the burning sensation when the Powered Gun charged was useful, too.

With that two-pronged stimulation, Zenin Zongren took only half an hour to start answering my questions politely.

"The Beast Arena was j-just a prank. Toji wouldn't die that easily anyway."

I asked, "What exactly did you do?"

"We locked him in a room."

"What was in the room?"

"...More than twenty cursed spirits."

"What grade?"

"I-I don't remember."

I pressed the stun baton against the man's abdomen and increased the current.

Zenin Zongren howled in agony and answered, "G-Grade 2! They were all Grade 2 cursed spirits."

"How old was Toji then?"

"Thirteen."

"..."

"Why? Why would you do something like that to a thirteen-year-old boy?"

Zenin Zongren suddenly gave a mocking smile. "He deserved it."

My heartbeat quickened. "He deserved it?"

"That's right. Even Toji himself believed people with heavenly restrictions deserved..."

I never heard the rest of Zenin Zongsuke's words.

With a crash as the door burst open, a pair of large, not particularly warm hands covered my ears completely.

Slowly lifting my head, I saw Toji right in front of me.

All I wanted to ask him now was,

"Dad, do you really believe people with heavenly restrictions deserve it?"