The road west (III)

Han led Lan and her daughter out of the village. The villagers watched them with hostile eyes, but no one dared step forward to stop them. Han paid them no heed, walking ahead without a sideways glance. Her eyes red, Lan held her little girl and followed close behind with her head lowered. If she had once harbored some wariness toward this shrine maiden, all that remained after the maiden had stood up for her time and again was gratitude.

"Han! Wait!" Miya pushed past the people blocking his way and ran up to them, panting. "Are you angry?"

"Yes," Han answered curtly. It was the first time she had answered the spellcaster so coldly. After a pause, she added, as if to make up for it, "But not with you, Spellcaster. I'm sorry."

Miya knew that Han was not actually human. He had even helped conceal it, never mentioning it to anyone. For that, Han was deeply grateful to him as well.

Miya opened his mouth, wanting to say something several times, but each time he hesitated and swallowed the words.

Even though he was a monk himself, he found it difficult to come to terms with those villagers and monks who hated monsters so deeply that they refused to distinguish right from wrong. He understood how Han felt, but he could also sense that unless he did something, the two of them would drift farther and farther apart until there was no turning back.

He was like a lonely traveler amid ice and snow, watching his friend walk away ahead of him without a word. He wanted to catch her hand, but the swirling snow blinded him and barred his steps from following her.

In the end, he remained silent. A thousand words gathered into the barely audible sigh that escaped his lips.

"Lady shrine maiden..." Lan, who had been quiet all this time, cried anxiously. "Yuno... I think Yuno is ill."

In just a few days, she and her daughter had endured one fright after another. A powerful, vicious monster had suddenly appeared; the villagers who had always lived peacefully alongside them had suddenly attacked them; the husband who had sheltered them had suddenly died. Worst of all, her daughter had nearly been killed. Each sudden blow had left her on the verge of collapse. If even an adult suffered so much, how much worse must it have been for a little child? Young monsters were no stronger than human children.

Miya touched the little girl's burning forehead, then checked her faint pulse. He immediately told Han, "I suspect she's had too many frights over the past two days. Now that she's relaxed a little, she's fallen ill. It isn't terribly serious, but she needs proper rest and care."

Lan turned her tear-filled eyes toward the shrine maiden, silently pleading with her like a frightened doe.

"Yes, there seems to be a temple up ahead. We can ask to stay the night." Han looked at the temple visible a short distance away and nodded firmly. "But you must conceal your identities as monsters. You absolutely cannot let anyone discover them," she warned sternly. Some humans were hostile to monsters, whether those monsters were kind or not.

"Yes." Lan nodded repeatedly, suppressing her monstrous aura even further.

They quickened their pace and soon reached the temple gates.

The young monk guarding the gate initially refused to let them enter, remaining firm even after the spellcaster pleaded several times. Seeing the sickly girl in Lan's arms, the softhearted young monk looked distressed, his sympathy stirred. Yet when he thought of the noble pupils studying inside, he did not dare admit these strangers of unknown origins, leaving him deeply torn.

"Ming, who are these people?" An old monk in a dark blue cassock walked slowly out of the inner courtyard and asked in a deep voice. Behind him followed three or four young boys and girls, who seemed to defer to the girl at their head.

"Master." The young monk hastily bowed respectfully and explained their purpose in detail.

"Well..." The kindhearted old monk was troubled too.

Seeing this, the girl behind him stepped forward of her own accord. The old monk actually took a small step back, yielding the conversation entirely to her. "Are you aware that this temple has not been peaceful of late?" Her voice was cool, yet carried an innate authority.

Miya gave her a monk's bow and waited for her to return it before saying, "Please tell us more."

The girl glanced at the old monk, who obediently explained the trouble the temple had been carefully concealing.

Although the old monk's spiritual abilities were modest, barely enough to protect himself, his master had once had the good fortune to visit Tang Country as an envoy. After returning, his master had taken pupils and taught them, gradually earning renown for his learning. When his master died, the old monk, as his eldest disciple, inherited the temple. The nobles in the city trusted him and entrusted their children to him to study literature and scholarship.

Recently, however, spirits had begun attacking the temple for some unknown reason, harassing it every night. His powers were limited, and he could not drive them away. After weighing his options, he had decided to send the noble pupils back to the city first, then make further plans once the shrine maidens and spellcasters dispatched from the city had exorcised the spirits. The escorts sent to collect them would likely arrive within the next few days. Once the nobles had returned to the city, he would close the temple for secluded practice and await the exorcism.

After listening carefully, Miya immediately offered to help with the exorcism, asking only that they be allowed to rest in the temple for a few days.

Seeing that he could not dissuade Miya, and that Imperial Princess Himiya (an imperial princess of Japan) tacitly approved, the old monk welcomed them inside.

From her first glimpse of them, Tomoko (Himiya's personal name) knew they were no ordinary people. At the Kyoto Imperial Palace (Japan's former imperial palace before the Meiji era), she had seen all kinds of priests, shrine maidens, and spellcasters. Some possessed exceptional spiritual power; others excelled only at flattery. She considered herself a descendant of Amaterasu (the Japanese imperial family claimed divine descent and thus had no surname), and her sensitivity to power allowed her to keenly perceive the abundant energy within these people. Indeed, had her father not had only one son and one daughter, she might well have been sent to the Ise Grand Shrine as a shrine maiden serving Amaterasu (Japanese imperial princesses had a tradition of serving the deity this way; such princesses were called Saiō, or Sai Imperial Princesses on formal occasions).

Yet to prevent her from threatening the throne, while also guarding against the possibility that her younger brother might die, her father, the reigning emperor, had effectively exiled her under the pretext of furthering her studies. If the worst happened and the imperial family had no successor, she could still be recalled, preserving the imperial bloodline. But to her younger brother's birth mother, Rura-in, and Uchijima Keiko, who held the same consort rank as her mother, her existence was surely a thorn in their side. She was both the emperor's eldest daughter and his only child apart from her younger brother, so Rura-in's wariness of her was only natural, even if her claim to the throne was actually quite weak. Or perhaps what they feared was not truly her or her mother, but their Fujiwara clan, one of the oldest noble lineages in Japanese history. Thus, this disguised exile was merely a contest between the emperor, the Fujiwara, and the Tachibana. Otherwise, why would an imperial princess be sent alone to study far from home? There was no question of a breach of propriety, for all etiquette paled before the struggle for power.

For that reason, she did not believe this haunting was merely an unforeseen calamity.

Tomoko's eyes were clear and utterly unafraid. Let me see just how powerful this spellcaster and that shrine maiden are, and whether they can unravel this web of intrigue.

Yuno was settled into thick bedding. After drinking the medicine prescribed by the spellcaster, she fell into a deep sleep.

Lan tended her gently, only relaxing once she saw the strain gradually ease from her child's pale face.

Miya inspected the surroundings and prepared carefully, placing paper talismans in every blind spot. Though they could not kill every spirit with a single strike, they could prevent a surprise attack that caught them unprepared-in truth, they could not even determine whether they were facing evil ghosts or monsters. Despite the righteous Buddhist aura filling this old temple, faint traces of ghostly energy left by years of rites for the dead still lingered. Moreover, although monsters possessed monstrous auras, methods of concealing them were hardly rare. Those whose auras were too powerful to hide (like the mighty Lord Sesshomaru, though he disdained concealment anyway) were few; most were ordinary monsters who concealed themselves carefully.

That night, the birds were silent, and all was still.

A faint mountain mist drifted through the temple at the edge of the forest. Beneath its peaceful surface, treacherous currents stirred.

The temple's residents had already been gathered together in a room beside Lan and her daughter's. Miya had erected a barrier around them to conceal their presence from supernatural eyes. Some of the boys seemed somewhat displeased, but all submitted beneath the forceful girl's authority. Thus, the two could devote themselves entirely to confronting the enemy.

"They're here!" Han, seated upright in the center of the temple, suddenly announced.

"Be careful," the spellcaster said solemnly, gripping his monk's staff.

"Yes."

From the depths of the silence came mournful, inhuman whispers. Listening closely, they seemed to have no source, yet also to come from everywhere.

The white paper windows filled with grotesque silhouettes of every shape, in which former human outlines could still faintly be discerned.

Pale blue-white and scarlet spirits gradually entered the room, crawling slowly across the wooden floor amid pallid ghostly energy. Their bodies twisted unnaturally, their blood-red mouths curling into eerie smiles.

Having grown up human, the spellcaster felt his hair stand on end, his scalp prickle, and every inch of his skin tighten. Han, however, felt none of it. She was merely troubled by the sheer number of spirits they would have to exorcise.

Seeing the shrine maiden beside him remain composed, Miya steadied his mind and began chanting a mantra to dispel evil spirits. "Om chin shira tsa hum om pramani datsa hum phat svaha... (Kṣitigarbha Heart Mantra)"

Amid the spellcaster's chanting, Han seemed to see a golden Buddha slowly rise above his head. Though its form was indistinct, it was enough to guide departed souls toward reincarnation. Within the tranquil chanting, her spiritual power began moving as if it had a will of its own. Surrounded by a halo of pure white spiritual power, the shrine maiden wore a serene expression as she sought, with purifying energy and Buddhist chants, to guide these departed people to Buddhahood.

Yet the evil ghosts sprawled on the floor were not dispersed. Instead, after a brief, bewildered pause, they staggered to their feet, opening their bloody mouths wide and baring hideous yellow teeth in threat. The mantra that should have grievously harmed them had instead become the final provocation!

"Spellcaster!" Han came back to herself and called out, rousing Miya from his absorption in the Buddhist chant.

"What...!" Miya was equally shocked.

"I'm afraid these evil ghosts have already become monsters," Han said gravely. The question was how. The transformation from evil ghost to monster was not a brief process, and required a significant catalyst.

"Yes." Miya nodded. He had noticed it too and shared the same doubts.

The monsters born from evil ghosts suddenly lunged at the two of them, attacking first. Malicious red light filled their hollow eyes.

Evil ghosts that had become monsters were the hardest to deal with, for they possessed the powers of both ghosts and monsters.

Miya scattered a broad sweep of spiritual talismans, immobilizing many of the monsters and directly releasing some of the weaker ones from their torment. The monsters struggled in place, their faces hideous as they tried to break free of the paper talismans. Yet beneath the spellcaster's ceaselessly swinging staff, their dark gray faces twisted and dissolved.

Han also deliberately gathered her spiritual power and spread a barrier. In a wash of pale green light, the surrounding monsters were gradually purified, their anguished faces slowly giving way to relieved smiles.

Yet this was no lasting solution.

Miya and Han both had limited reserves of power, but the monsters seemed endless, surging toward them without pause.

After destroying another wave of monsters, Han used the lull to carefully reconsider the course of their attacks.

A vague sense of foreboding stirred in her heart.

"This is bad!" Han and the spellcaster exchanged a look. Both had realized it-a ploy to lure them away!

"Han, leave this side to me! Go to the rooms!" Miya shouted hastily as another wave of monsters attacked.

"Yes. Leave it to me." After a moment's consideration, Han agreed immediately, broke away, and ran toward the rooms.

If their suspicions were correct... then...