Tokyo: Proving one's position from behind the scenes

After the engine noise outside the mountain gate stopped, footsteps echoed along the path leading to the temple.

Shunichi Maeda peeked halfway out of the tea room doorway, glanced towards the approach to the shrine, and then stood up, supporting himself on his knees. His movements were slow, and a slight grinding sound could be heard as his knees bent.

"This humble monk will go and greet them."

He walked to the entrance of the Buddhist hall, put on his wooden clogs, and walked out along the approach. Nagayama Akira sat motionless in the tea room, his crimson robe spread on the tatami mat, his fingers resting on the rim of his rough ceramic teacup, his gaze passing through the half-open paper window and landing on the three figures walking towards him on the approach.

Leading the way was the man in civilian clothes, wearing a jacket, around forty years old, with short hair that revealed a patch of slightly lighter skin behind his ear. In his left hand, he carried a silver-gray portable testing device with a row of small indicator lights on its casing. In the middle was the man in uniform, a walkie-talkie clipped to his waist, its antenna protruding from its leather case. Bringing up the rear was the technician in a white lab coat, carrying a small but heavy black equipment case; the veins on the back of his hands were slightly bulging.

The three of them walked to the entrance of the Buddhist hall. The one in casual clothes was the first to see Maeda Shunichi coming out of the tea room.

"Excuse me, Abbot." The man in plain clothes bowed slightly, took out an ID card from his jacket pocket, flipped it open, and flashed it. "I'm from the Metropolitan Police Department's Cultural Property Protection Division. My name is Murai. These two are my colleagues."

The police badge on the ID flashed briefly in the dim light of the Buddhist hall before being retracted. Maeda Shunichi returned the greeting with his hands clasped together, his gaze sweeping over the three people's faces in turn before settling on the testing device in Murai's hand.

"The three benefactors have come from afar; may we ask what brings you here?"

Murai switched the detector to his right hand and pointed with his left hand to the wooden statue of Yakushi Nyorai on the front of the Buddhist hall.

"Here's the thing, the Cultural Properties Conservation Division is currently conducting a nationwide survey of cultural relics, specifically targeting religious buildings and artifacts that are over a hundred years old. Your temple's registration records show that it was built in the late Edo period, and the Yakushi Nyorai statue may be even older. We want to conduct a non-destructive test on the wooden structure of the Buddha statue and the temple, mainly to confirm the preservation status of the artifacts and assess whether they need to be included in the list of key protected sites."

This is a lie.

Maeda Shunichi followed his gaze to the Yakushi Nyorai statue. The gold leaf on the wooden statue had taken on a deep brown luster from the incense smoke, and the white hair between its eyebrows shone with a faint gold in the morning light streaming in through the window.

"Non-destructive testing?"

"It won't cause any damage to the Buddha statue." The technician in the white coat took over, placed the black equipment case on the ground, opened the lid, and inside were several instruments whose names he didn't know. "We'll just use the equipment to get close to the surface of the Buddha statue to read some data."

Shunichi Maeda was silent for a few seconds, then nodded.

"Please proceed. However, during the inspection, please do not touch the lotus pedestal and halo of the Buddha statue, as those two parts are original artifacts from the early Edo period."

Murai responded and gave the technician a wink. The technician took a pen-shaped probe from the equipment box, walked to the Yakushi Nyorai statue, squatted down, and started moving the probe inch by inch upwards from the bottom of the lotus pedestal.

Murai stood in the center of the Buddhist hall, his gaze shifting from the Yakushi Nyorai statue to the furnishings. His eyes lingered for a moment on the few yellowish-green oranges on the offering table before moving towards the tea room on the side of the hall. The paper window of the tea room was half-open, revealing two rough ceramic teacups on a low table inside.

"Abbot, are there any other monks in the temple?"

"An old monk who was traveling by passed by yesterday and asked to stay for a few days." Maeda Shunichi's voice came from the other side of the Buddhist hall.

Murai's gaze lingered on the crimson robe at the entrance of the tea room for a moment, then he didn't ask any more questions.

The examination lasted approximately forty minutes. The technician used a probe-like instrument to scan every inch of the Medicine Buddha statue, from the lotus pedestal to the knees, from the knees to the chest, from the chest to the brow, leaving no stone unturned, even in the crevices of the carved wood behind the light. The instrument's indicator light remained green throughout, occasionally flashing a few times when it approached certain areas before returning to stillness.

The silver-gray detector in Murai's hand was also constantly running. Several curves of different colors flickered on the screen, red, green, and blue slowly rising and falling against a black background. Every few minutes, he would glance down at the screen, his brow slightly furrowed, like someone waiting for a phone call repeatedly checking if their phone had a signal.

"How is it?"

The technician stood up from in front of the Medicine Buddha statue, dusted off his knees, and shook his head.

"The readings are normal, with no abnormalities. The age characteristics of the wood are basically consistent with the records in the registration documents, and the layering of the lacquer and gold leaf also conforms to the craftsmanship characteristics of the late Edo period."

Murai turned off the testing equipment and put it back in the equipment box.

"Excuse me, Abbot. The test results are all normal. Your temple and Buddha statues are in excellent condition. If it is subsequently included in the protected list, you will be notified by official documents."

Shunichi Maeda clasped his hands together.

"You three have had a long journey. It's getting late, and the road back to the city from the town is difficult to travel. If you don't mind, you can stay at the temple tonight and set off again early tomorrow morning."

Murai glanced at the technician, then at his colleagues in uniform, and nodded.

"Then I'll have to trouble you."

Maeda Shunichi led the three through a corridor on the side of the Buddhist hall. At the end of the corridor were two guest rooms side by side. The wooden door opened to reveal a six-tatami mat room. The tatami mats were somewhat old, the edges faded from grass green to grayish-yellow, but they were clean and tidy, clearly indicating that they were cleaned regularly. A calligraphy scroll hung in the alcove, which read "May you be free from illness and disaster," the ink of which had faded.

Murai placed the equipment box against the wall, and the technician removed the battery from the probe and charged it. After the three of them settled in the guest room, Murai came out again, stood in the corridor, and looked across the courtyard to the gray tiles on the roof of the Buddhist temple.

It was indeed getting late; the sun had already set behind the hills, leaving only a patch of orange-red afterglow seeping through the gaps in the horizon, turning the edges of the temple's gray tiles into streaks of gold.

Shunichi Maeda is sweeping and cleaning the courtyard.

He carried a bamboo broom, its twigs worn short, making a rustling sound as it swept the ground. He started sweeping from the entrance of the Buddhist hall, along the dirt path leading to the mountain gate, and then swept back. There weren't many fallen leaves; at this time of year, the miscellaneous trees weren't yet shedding their leaves in large quantities. What he swept up was mostly dust and small, withered branches.

When he reached the side of the Buddhist shrine, he stopped, leaned on his broom, and glanced up at the guest room window. The window was half-open, and he could see the technician gently pulling a charging cable out of an equipment box, as if tidying up his own home. Maeda Shunichi watched for a moment, then lowered his head and continued sweeping.

Akira Nagayama is praying to Buddha in the Buddhist hall.

The Buddhist hall was quiet. The technician and Murai were in the guest room, while the one in uniform squatted in the corridor smoking. The smoke was dispersed by the evening breeze, and a wisp of smoke drifted in through the cracks in the paper window, but was quickly covered by the scent of incense.

Akira Nagayama's perception extended from his clasped fingertips.

The wooden beam structure of the Buddhist hall clearly emerged in his mind: the position of each crossbeam, the fit of each mortise and tenon joint, and the gaps behind each ceiling panel. His senses climbed upwards along the beams, through the ceiling, and into the space between the roof and the ceiling of the Buddhist hall.

The interlayer was filled with things accumulated over decades. A stack of worn-out scriptures lay there, their pages yellowed and brittle. Several wooden crates were piled in the corner, their lids covered in a thick layer of dust. A broken copper lamp held a small amount of dried oil, its surface coated with a grayish-white film.

Above the mezzanine are the roof rafters and tiles. The wood of the rafters is older than that of the wooden walls of the temple, and the surface is unpainted, with fine cracks eroded by decades of rain and humid air.

A spider web hung between the rafters under the eaves.

The spiderweb wasn't large, only about the width of an adult's outstretched palm. Its shape was somewhat irregular; several threads along the edge had been broken by the wind, the ends curled up as if torn apart and then barely pieced back together. A spider lay in the center of the web.

The spider was slightly smaller than a common house spider, with a rounded abdomen that was an uneven grayish-brown in color, with several darker stripes running down its back from its head to the end of its abdomen. Its eight legs were curled up at its sides, and the hairs on its legs shimmered with a very faint grayish-white sheen in the sunlight filtering through the cracks in the roof tiles.

The moment he sensed the spider, Akira Nagayama's fingers twitched slightly in his clasped hands.

The phantom images of three copper coins emerged from his fingertips, and the hexagram unfolded in his consciousness on its own.

[Female Earth]

【Female Earth】is the soil of burial, mainly used for funerals, and also for the use of shamanic and sorcerous abilities.

Akira Nagayama's lips twitched slightly behind his clasped fingers.

He followed the catfish's method, but this time he wanted a crazed demon.

His right hand quietly loosened its clasped hands and slipped into the sleeve of his robe. His fingertips touched the cool touch of the storage bag, and with a thought, he took out two items from it.

The first item was a withered human finger. The dark brown skin clung tightly to the bone, the dark yellow nail was slightly curved, and the bone fracture at the base of the finger was almost invisible in the dim light of the temple. This was the third finger of "Ryomen Sukuna".

The second item was a small porcelain bottle labeled with the character "土" (earth). The wax seal on the bottle's mouth was intact. When the stopper was pulled out, a cool, refreshing scent wafted out—a serene and melancholic aroma. It was like the scent of dew-dampened earth in an autumn cemetery, mixed with the smell of withered grass and moss on old tombstones. There was no sweet, rotten smell, only a clean, almost austere, chill.

【The ghosts sing their breath at the autumn grave】.

Earth Virtue True Qi is a type of third grade. 【Female Earth】 refers to the soil of burial grounds and graves; after burial, it returns to the earth, which is itself a form of the 【Female Earth】 imagery. The autumn grave ghost chants refer to the image of the souls of the deceased returning to the earth in the graveyard after autumn.

Nagayama Akira held his fingers and the porcelain bottle in his left palm, then clasped his hands together again with his right. Magical power surged from his dantian, flowing along his meridians to his left palm, drawing out the [Autumn Tomb Ghost Chant Qi] from the porcelain bottle.

A cool, refreshing scent permeated the air in the Buddhist hall, so faint that it was almost indistinguishable from the scent of incense.

His thoughts probed into the spider web under the eaves.

The spider lay in the center of its web, its eight legs curled up at its sides, its abdomen rising and falling very slowly with its breathing. It was completely unaware of what was about to happen.

Yongshan Ming used his magic to simultaneously envelop his withered fingers and the [Autumn Grave Ghost Chant Qi], then pressed down forcefully. The two were forcibly fused together in his palm by his magic, and the cavity inside his fingers was filled with the [Autumn Grave Ghost Chant Qi]. The Earth Virtue True Qi seeped into every tiny pore of the bone along the cracks in the bone. The dark brown skin on the surface of his fingers began to change under the influence of the True Qi, gradually turning from dark brown to a deeper, almost black, dark brown. The dry, shriveled lines on the surface became finer, like the cracks in an autumn field.

The inner elixir is formed.

Akira Nagayama's mind locked onto the spider under the eaves.

The inner elixir floated silently from his left palm, passing through the gaps in the wooden planks of the shrine ceiling, through the spaces between the old scrolls and wooden boxes piled up in the interlayer, and through the dark space between the rafters and tiles. The entire process took no more than a breath, and the trajectory of the inner elixir left no trace in the air.

The spider's eight legs twitched simultaneously; the instant its elixir entered its abdomen, its entire body convulsed violently. Its eight legs suddenly straightened, then curled up again, then straightened again, the fine hairs on them standing on end like an umbrella blown inside out by the wind. Its abdomen began to swell, rapidly expanding from the size of a soybean to the size of a broad bean, and then from the size of a broad bean to the size of a thumb. The color of its abdomen changed from grayish-brown to a deeper, almost blackish dark brown, and the stripes on its back also deepened in color.

Akira Nagayama's fingers moved again, this time with a spell called "Spirit Control Technique," used to control mortals, demons, and cultivators with insufficient intelligence. The simpler the mind and the weaker the power of the controlled object, the more stable the spell's effect.

For Akira Nagayama, manipulating the mind of this spider was no more difficult than picking up a fallen leaf.

Magic surged from his fingertips, transforming into an extremely fine golden thread that silently pierced through the ceiling and entered the spider's expanding and deforming body. The thread wrapped around its central nervous system and took control, stopping the spider's eight legs from twitching, and its entire body froze for a moment in the center of the web.

It began to move, crawling from the center of the net to the edge, sliding along a thread onto the rafters, and then climbing along the rafters towards the interlayer. Its belly dragged behind it, more than twice its original size, but its legs steadily supported the extra weight. It crawled at a moderate pace, each step landing precisely in the grain and gaps of the rafters.

Akira Nagayama's thoughts were transmitted through that golden thread.

Go to the attic, the deserted attic, to weave a net there, to wait there.

The spider moved among the wooden boxes in the interlayer. It crawled over the stack of yellowed scriptures, over the edge of the dried-out copper lamp, over a hole in the wooden board gnawed by rats, and into the deeper part of the interlayer.

At the end of the mezzanine is an extremely narrow wooden staircase leading to the attic at the very top of the Buddhist hall. The attic is deserted year-round, and the doors are covered with a thicker layer of dust than the mezzanine. Between the threshold and the door frame are several spiderwebs that are more complete than anywhere else in the Buddhist hall.

The spider climbed up the wooden ladder, squeezed its body through the crack in the door, and disappeared into the darkness of the attic.

Nagayama Akira retracted the golden thread, severing the continuous flow of magical power. The Spirit Summoning Technique was already etched into the spider's nervous system; he no longer needed to continuously cast spells, the command would remain in its body like an instinct. It would stay in the attic, weaving its web there, hunting there, and growing there.

He opened his eyes.

Everything in the Buddhist hall was as usual. The wood grain of the Medicine Buddha statue had a warm, deep brown texture in the dim light. The smoke from the incense sticks rose from the incense burner, forming a straight, almost non-spreading column of smoke in front of the Buddha statue before slowly dissipating in the air.