The Ming Dynasty began from Sarhu

Chapter 688 Kyoto
"Did you move here from Edo? Did you pay taxes on this house?"

As the clerk spoke, he took out a badge and waved it in front of the Noh playwright. Without waiting for the other party to see it clearly, he put the badge back into his pocket.

Shinuemon was penniless now, with no money to pay for bribes, so he had no choice but to bite the bullet and say:
"Sir, I have traveled extensively and have passed through at least a thousand vassal states, if not eight hundred, and I have never heard of any tax being required."

Corruption had penetrated every corner of the shogunate, and Kyoto, with its prosperous business, was no exception.

"Kyoto is different from the outer vassal states. Don't you know that living in the capital is not easy? There are taxes on house rentals."

"I'm really sorry, I'm new here and don't know the rules in Kyoto, but I really have no money."

Omura looked Shin'emon up and down, his fingers pressing on the scabbard.

"No money? Really?"

Shin'emon gritted his teeth and gave the few copper coins left in his pocket to Omura Masa.

The clerk shook the copper coin in his hand, probably feeling that it was too little, and raised the corners of his mouth, squeezing out cold words:
"Come on, take me into the house and check if there's anything prohibited."

Shin'emon hesitated for a moment, took the tinder, and led Omura towards the secret passage.

The room remained as it was, with nothing in it except a few chairs and a table.

The Noh playwright looked at the clerk who was blackmailing him.

The clerk had a gloomy face and looked very angry. He walked quickly to the center of the room and stared at the discarded manuscript paper on the desk.

"Do you usually write... Noh plays here?" asked the clerk.

"Yes. That's exactly why I came to Kyoto. It's quite peaceful here. Perfect for writing a story about the rice god appearing."

Omura nodded thoughtfully, then turned and walked towards the alcove and the iron plate.

Omura leaned close to the wall, tracing the blurred symbols with his long index finger. He muttered something under his breath—it sounded like gibberish.

"God of all gods... K'yarnak..."

Omura's face was gloomy and pale.

"I've seen enough. It's all right," he said softly. "I'm leaving."

Shin'emon was very surprised. He thought the other party would ask him for more money, but he didn't expect that it would end like this.

Omura stood up, hesitating.

"Let me ask you this. Do you have to live in this house to write your ghost stories?"

Shin'emon sighed helplessly and patiently explained to the clerk:

"I was looking for a quiet place to write a story, any quiet place would do. But it seemed so hard to find one, until I came to this 'Kamakura Witch Room', and the story suddenly became easier. I don't know why I should move, and it might even affect my livelihood, do you understand? I make money by writing stories..."

Omura seemed not to hear him, but looked around, searching for some creature hiding in the wall:
"Actually, I came here not only to ask you for money, but also..."

He stared at Shin'emon's face for a moment and then continued.

"Kyoto is not peaceful. You know, the Kamakura witch in the past could communicate between the two worlds.

"This room of yours is the bridge connecting the worlds of humans and gods!"

Shin'emon tried to interrupt, but Omura continued.

He stepped back, the passion in his eyes gone, replaced by harshness and indifference.

"They call this bridge the Black Warrior, and our ancestors used it for evil. I've read that the Kamakura witch cursed Wa in the past—a witch's curse can be a terrible thing. I—"

Omura stood up, biting his lip.

"I'm going to come back tomorrow."

Shin'emon nodded, bewildered.

~~~~~
Shin'emon woke up before dawn.

His heart was beating wildly and a strange, uneasy feeling came over him.

He could hear lizards scurrying about in the walls and under his bed.

He hurried out of bed, shivering in the cold grayness of the early morning. The pale moon still shone faintly in the gray sky.

He remembered what Omura had said.

I immediately got dressed and went out to buy some tempura.

He reached a corner and turned left without a second thought. The street was deserted, with no samurai or ronin. The strange feeling intensified. He walked slowly, pondering. "I heard Amaterasu was transformed from a giant lizard."

Shin'emon muttered to himself.

Finally, pedestrians appeared and gathered on the sidewalk.

He quickened his pace, sensing impending disaster.

In the middle of the crowd, a ronin leaned against the side of the tavern, his hands tightly grasping the wall in front of the tavern, and the muscle tattoos on the back of his hands were bulging.

The ronin was dead, his face twisted at a very strange angle, looking down at the earth.

The clerk lifted his face, leaving an expression of extreme shock and horror on his face.

The dead man's eyes were rolled back, bulging out horribly; his mouth was twisted in a smile.

Someone next to Shin'emon said:
"It looks like he was frightened to death."

~~~~~
When he returned home, he found Omura Masa, the persistent clerk, waiting for him.

"Have you seen Saburo Yoshino?"

Muramasa asked straight to the point.

Shin'emon's eyes widened, then he took out a clay pot, started to boil water, slowly made a cup of tea, and handed it to Muramasa.

"You mean the dead ronin?"

"Exactly."

"I have no idea,"

Shin'emon said drowsily, rubbing his forehead. "I can't remember."

"Last night, the ronin was scared to death." Omura Masa said lightly.

Shin'emon asked quickly, "A shop was robbed and a ronin was frightened to death. Is that right?"

"Shin'emon, you are deceiving yourself. Yoshino's death has nothing to do with the theft!"

"He said something he shouldn't have said and angered the witch!"

Omura said calmly.

"In your heart, you know—you must know—the truth. You have become the witch's messenger, Shin'emon. For three hundred years, the Kamakura Witch has lain in her grave—not dead—waiting for someone to awaken her—the 'Witch Chamber.' Perhaps when she built it, she foresaw the future, that one day someone, you, would stumble into that evil chamber and fall into its trap."

"Now, you've fallen into a trap."

Shin'emon doesn't believe that the Kamakura wizard from more than 300 years ago is still alive.

However, wizards can indeed hypnotize people.

It could all be an illusion.

"She easily forced people to go to her grave and pull out the stake that held her there, and then she wiped the things you did from your memory, so that even if you thought it was a dream, you would not remember them!"

Shin'emon stood up, a strange light flashing in his eyes.

"My Lord, by the grace of Amaterasu, do you know what you are saying?"

Muramasa let out a shrill laugh.

"It is rather the devil who is above—it is not merely Tartarus that threatens Japan now, but the devil; Kyoto is threatened, horribly threatened. When those men, women, and children burned the Kamakura witch at the stake—and they found they could not burn her, she cursed them… I come here to ask you, for the last time, to leave this house."

"Are you done?"

Muramasa said coldly. "I'm not leaving here. You're either crazy or drunk, but your nonsense doesn't move me."

"If I give you a thousand coins, will you leave?" asked the clerk.

"Or more, um—ten thousand? I have plenty of money."

"No, to hell with it! I've had enough!"

Shin'emon suddenly got angry.

"I just want to be left alone. To finish my story. I can't write it anywhere else—I don't want to, I can't, and don't scare me with ghost stories! So, please! Please get out right now."

(End of this chapter)