Chapter 97: Placing the Pieces, Fanning the Flames, the Strategy Begins

Tokyo, Japan, Higashi-Oku combat zone.

Along the road leading to the combat zone, rows of police spike strips were laid out to block all vehicles.

The roads were completely sealed off, surrounded by layers of Self-Defense Forces personnel guarding every checkpoint, with patrols constantly moving back and forth, forbidding all unauthorized persons from entering the combat zone.

Upon closer inspection, one could see numerous footprints on the ground; the grassy expanse of the combat zone also bore signs of damage—patches of grass appeared chewed, other areas looked as if they had been dug up.

Not long ago.

When Director Takahashi ordered the Self-Defense Forces and police to secure the area, a steady stream of frantic civilians arrived alongside them.

The scene at the time was spectacular, unprecedented.

Men, women, children, and elders surged forward, pouncing on plants, soil, and flowers—biting at grass, plucking flowers, swallowing dirt; if they couldn’t eat it, they dug it up and stuffed it into their pockets.

Their frenzy resembled a zombie siege, like a movie version of zombies bursting out of dawn.

Director Takahashi spent over an hour clearing the civilians and extracting the dirt from their mouths.

Unfortunately, many had already swallowed the soil.

Director Takahashi, helpless, waved his hand and ordered them taken away.

They had already eaten it—it had reached their intestines and was pressing against their stomachs; vomiting it out was impossible. So they could only be taken back for research, saving the step of finding live subjects to eat soil, and moving directly into the testing and waiting-for-results phase.

At the same time, he ordered personnel to cut and send portions of the grass, flowers, and trees for study, while preserving the rest in place for careful cultivation.

“Director Takahashi, the Tsuchimikado Shinto priest has arrived.”

Mori Takeshi stepped before Director Takahashi and whispered in his ear.

Some time had passed since Master Kūkai departed; Tsuchimikado Xia Mei had left with him and had not returned. Tsuchimikado Kenji, worried for her safety, requested permission from the police to come here.

The government had placed high importance on temples and shrines, especially the Tsuchimikado family, classifying them as extraordinary. Upon Kenji’s request, the police immediately agreed—there was no loss in simply transporting him here, and it could even earn goodwill. Why not?

“Director Takahashi, has my Xia Mei returned yet?”

Tsuchimikado Kenji cut straight to the point without preamble. The government now valued him, and Xia Mei was tied to the extraordinary—he had no need to be polite to the government. On the contrary, he must stand firm, or the government might think he was deceiving them.

“Master Tsuchimikado, I have instructed all personnel to notify me immediately if they spot Tsuchimikado Shen Guan.”

As Director Takahashi spoke, he recalled the incident at the villa and apologized again—when, at that moment, a subordinate reported that someone had seen Tsuchimikado Xia Mei at another location in Higashi-Oku, some distance away, and she was currently being driven over.

Not long after.

“Grandfather.” Tsuchimikado Xia Mei beamed upon seeing Tsuchimikado Kenji.

Seeing Xia Mei unharmed, Tsuchimikado Kenji exhaled in relief—but he did not ask where Master Kūkai had taken her or what they had discussed in the combat zone. Not only because Master Kūkai was a figure from a thousand years ago, but because inquiring into another’s private conversation was inherently impolite.

Director Takahashi and the others also refrained from asking. After all, if their conversation involved secrets, their inquiry would amount to prying—and no one could bear the consequences of angering Master Kūkai.

But that did not stop them from courting the Tsuchimikado family.

“Master Tsuchimikado, Shen Guan, the Prime Minister has notified us: we are preparing to establish a committee for shrines and temples, dedicated to promoting and constructing them, as well as managing government funding. We sincerely invite you to join as a committee member.

Our government has also established a Future Monster Response Bureau. If you are willing, we would be honored to have you serve as our advisors.”

Tsuchimikado Kenji agreed. These matters posed no threat to life; accepting brought only benefits.

Hearing this, Director Takahashi was delighted.

Back home.

Before Tsuchimikado Kenji could speak, Xia Mei spoke first:

“Grandfather, you were right—I have no spiritual power.”

Tsuchimikado Kenji halted mid-step, startled—he had not expected her to say this.

He had pleaded with her before, but she never believed him. Why had she changed her mind now? Could it be…

He told her, and she wouldn’t listen. But if the extraordinary Master Kūkai said it, it was different. Surely such a powerful figure would not have missed that she lacked spiritual power.

But if that were true, why had Master Kūkai taken her away? To teach her extraordinary arts?!

Tsuchimikado Kenji’s breathing quickened—both thrilled and anxious.

On one hand, he was thrilled that Xia Mei might become extraordinary, bringing honor to the family. On the other, he feared she would now face terrifying monsters and be injured.

At the same time, he began to understand.

Perhaps Master Kūkai sought Xia Mei not because she had pretended to be a Shinto practitioner so convincingly that she attracted extraordinary attention—but because her ancestors were Ame no Hohi, and because of her deep devotion to Shinto.

“Grandfather, Master Kūkai told me…”

As Tsuchimikado Kenji suspected, Xia Mei had learned she lacked spiritual power from Master Kūkai himself.

When the six-eyed demon destroyed Higashi-Oku, Kamikawa Mitsu, in his guise as Master Kūkai, arrived on the scene and happened to see Tsuchimikado Xia Mei standing in the combat zone.

At the time, Kamikawa Mitsu was curious: why was Tsuchimikado Xia Mei standing there, motionless, as if waiting—and why did she carry a bow and a shrine satchel?

He recalled his morning conversation with her about Shinto, and saw her obsessive devotion to it. A possibility occurred to him.

Driven by curiosity and speculation, Kamikawa Mitsu spent one Script Point to ask the system: What was Tsuchimikado Xia Mei’s purpose here?

The system’s answer confirmed his guess: Xia Mei believed herself to be extraordinary and intended to kill the demon, even though she had already realized she lacked spiritual power. But the arrow was already on the string—she had to act, and for her family’s sake, she had to do something.

Immediately, Kamikawa Mitsu spent five more Script Points to learn of Xia Mei’s past. He suddenly understood why she was so devoted to Shinto, and why she had approached him that morning—not to uncover his secret, but simply out of genuine concern for him.

Such a good girl reminded Kamikawa Mitsu of his sister, Kamikawa Chie.

Kamikawa Chie had always been innocent. If she had been raised with Shinto teachings, she might have become just as devoted as Xia Mei—and done exactly what she did today.

Kamikawa Mitsu decided to play the saint once—save Tsuchimikado Xia Mei. He told her she had no spiritual power. After all, he was here to kill the six-eyed demon; it was convenient, and cost him nothing.

But how to tell Xia Mei she had no spiritual power? He could not say it outright—it would make her feel her entire life had been watched, and provoke discomfort.

No one wanted their life monitored, spied upon.

Therefore,

After resolving the six-eyed demon and the Void Realm matter, he used the pretext of borrowing an item from the Tsuchimikado family to take Xia Mei to a secluded place for a private talk.

In his guise as Master Kūkai, he asked Xia Mei: Why, despite having no spiritual power, did she come here to slay demons? Was it because she believed herself to be a descendant of Ame no Hohi?

Upon hearing this, Xia Mei finally understood: she had no spiritual power.

If an extraordinary being had personally told her so, no matter how delusional she might be, she could no longer deny it—Xia Mei finally accepted that she had no spiritual power.

Afterward, he spoke with her briefly, using the pretext of borrowing the item.

He needed her identity to indirectly accomplish something.

To make the world believe in demons and the grand mythological world he had constructed, he needed to reveal some information—but he could not reveal it himself constantly. He needed someone to stir the waters.

That person could not be chosen lightly. They needed immense public credibility—so that when they spoke, everyone would naturally believe.

Who had the greatest credibility?

The government!

The government was the embodiment of national credibility. If the government believed, ordinary people would follow.

So if he fed information to the government and they believed it, the citizens would believe too. And for the government to release the information was far more direct and simple than him endlessly scripting and performing plays—and crucially, it cost no Script Points.

But to get the government to release information, Kamikawa Mitsu could not go himself. He needed a middleman.

And Tsuchimikado Xia Mei was the perfect middleman!

He would speak with Xia Mei as Master Kūkai, revealing a little information, then let her pass it on to the government.

As a shrine official, the government would inevitably seek her out—especially after today’s events. She would be asked to serve as an advisor, and then she could leak the information to them, achieving indirect disclosure.

…