They drove straight from the city center toward Odawara City
. The late summer sun had begun its downward arc by the time they reached Castle Ruins Park, and they felt the heat of it against their skin like a tangible force as soon as they got out of the car.
The castle’s beautiful white tower shone beneath a cloudless blue sky. They headed down the gravel path, startling a flock of pigeons into taking wing, and ascended a flight of stone stairs to reach the main gate. Past Tokiwagi Gate, the restored Odawara Castle soared up before them in all its concrete splendor.
Takaya looked wordlessly up at the castle. The park which had been built around the ruins of the main citadel had also been made part zoo, and the elephants and lions beneath the grand structure presented a rather odd sight.
The man bought entry passes at the ticket counter and began climbing the steps to the entrance without waiting for Takaya. Takaya followed.
The reconstructed tower had been converted into a museum. The man ignored the exhibits. Still carrying his briefcase in his right hand, he climbed the stairs up to the viewing platform on the topmost floor.
The sea spread out before them.
Odawara City lay below them in an unbroken sweep, encircled by the Hakone and Tanzawa Mountain Ranges.
“...”
Takaya had followed the man in silence. He gazed out at the view numbly, face drained of emotion.
“You can see Mt. Ishigaki from here—the place where Taikou Hideyoshi set up camp,” the man said, his gaze on the gentle slope to the southwest. The stronghold Taikou Toyotomi Hideyoshi constructed there, known as the One-Night Castle, was where he had gathered his troops for the assault on the Houjou at Odawara. From there he would have had a superb view of the castle and its defenses.
Hideyoshi had embarked on the famous Siege of Odawara in the spring of the 18th year of Tenshou (1590) with the goal of subjugating Houjou Ujimasa and his son Ujinao, who had steadfastly refused fealty to the Toyotomi Clan. Many daimyo who had already sworn allegiance to Hideyoshi added their troops to the siege, and even Date Masamune, who until this campaign had wavered over opposition or support, had been compelled to seek an audience with the Taikou for the first time and declare his vassalage.
An enormous army 220,000-strong descended upon Odawara, and thus besieged, Ujimasa and his heir surrendered. Hideyoshi demanded the lives of Ujimasa and his younger brother Ujiteru, and in July of that year they committed ritual suicide.
“Yet Odawara’s title of Japan’s most impregnable castle is well-earned. Neither Uesugi Kenshin nor Takeda Shingen could take it in hard-fought battles, and it would not have fallen to the siege but for the overwhelming numbers arrayed against the Houjou. Even then the castle itself never fell to attack. It is truly the greatest castle in the Kantou.”
“...”
Takaya made no response—and truly, the man no longer seemed to be talking to him. Neither was Takaya looking at the mountain; his gaze was fixed upon Sagami Bay sparkling in the sunlight.
“This castle is the pride of the Houjou Clan,” the man added from behind him. “The place that calls to the souls of all those who bear the Houjou blood...for this is their homeland.”
Takaya stood motionless in the wind from the sea. A group of tourists came up the stairs to the platform, but neither Takaya nor the man heard their cheerful voices; they were as isolated from the happy chatter around them as if they stood in another dimension.
The man gave no hint that he had any inkling of the feelings surging through Takaya’s chest as he gazed into the distance, so still that he seemed rooted to the spot.
The Sagami Sea glittered.
The wind, scented with the lake and the last heat of summer, stirred the memories of the distant past hidden within his breast. The gentle, thundering sea. Miura Peninsula lay to the distant east, Manaduru Peninsula to the west, and on clear days even Izu Peninsula was visible. The view held nothing particularly unique; it was, in fact, probably quite common as far as scenery went.
But Takaya felt it.
It was as if this were some primordial image carved onto his soul, piercing his retinas along a familiar path to call up his sealed memories. The voices of people long lost to him surged back from the depths of his soul across the vastness of time like the sea’s murmurers.
The man looked at Takaya’s back and quietly away, then cast his gaze at the sea again as if his own heart were beating Takaya’s agitation.
The City of Odawara, once stronghold of the mighty Later Houjou, a clan which had wielded considerable power in the Kantou during the Sengoku Period for five generations starting with its founder Houjou Souun, was still the center of western Kanagawa Prefecture. During the Edo Period, it had prospered as the 53rd station on the Tokaido. Even now remnants of the past could be seen everywhere within this city seeped in its rich centuries of history.
Odawara Castle, renowned during the Sengoku for its impregnability, had withstood repeated sieges from various warlords such as Takeda Shingen of neighboring Kai and Uesugi Kenshin of Echigo. It was now a famed sightseeing spot, popular with tourists regardless of the season.
Takaya stood silent and still as the expansive sea returned to him the image of his father’s face.
His father’s voice...
It was too far away, too deep... Takaya could not make out the words. Yet it filled him with longing, with reverence and awe for the man who towered like a giant in his memories...the man who was not Ougi Takaya’s father, though he had not get realized it... Though he did not understand why he felt these things... Though his conscious mind could not acknowledge the connections...
His soul knew...
For the sea, passing straight through his pupils to touch his soul, spoke to him with the voice of Saburou Kagetora’s true father, Houjou Ujiyasu.
The West Shounan Bypass ran parallel to National Route 1 along Odawara City’s coastline. Though it provided the perfect drive, it also blocked the view of the mountain ranges from the beach.
The sun was already sinking below the horizon by the time they left Odawara Castle behind and, after about a fifteen-minute walk, arrived at Miyuki Beach.
It rippled across the waves, infusing the scene with its own beauty. Takaya closed his eyes and leaned into the sea breeze as it gently ruffled his hair, arms wrapped around himself.
The man remained silent, only gazing quietly at Takaya from a few steps behind him.
They stood thus for uncounted minutes.
As twilight cast its cloak across the beach, the cars along the bypass began to turn on their lights one by one. It was Takaya’s voice which finally cut across the murmur of the waves as he addressed the man standing still and silent behind him.
“So. What is it you want from me?” he asked without turning. Though the man displayed no reaction, the expression changed in his eyes. “What are you guys planning to do with me?”
“...”
“I’m gonna make a wild guess here and say that you’re not gonna be nice and just let me go home now that you’ve got me here. ’Cause I’m dangerous, right? If you turn me loose, it’ll be worth your lives.”
Still no reaction as Takaya all but declared his awareness of the man’s true identity, of the reason he had brought Takaya to Odawara... No. It was not Takaya he had brought...but ‘Saburou Kagetora.’
“Will you not come home?” The man finally asked. “Will you not return to us, Saburou?”
“Come home?” Takaya demanded shortly through gritted teeth. “Home...”
“This is your homeland. Four hundred years ago, you went to Echigo to become Kenshin’s adopted son, and you died in that strange land without ever setting your eyes on Odawara again. But you wanted to come back, didn’t you? You always wanted to return to this land of your birth.”
Distant memories pressed against Takaya’s chest: memories of Samegao Castle engulfed in flames and his last thoughts in those final moments. In his despair, in the midst of that unbearable nightmare, it had been his beloved Sagami Sea that had brought him peace.
For it had been his memories of the sea to which the eyes that had beheld war and defeat and so much death had turned to at the last.
As the blade had pierced his flesh, his last wish had been to return to this land... He had chosen death not to go to the Pure Land, but to return to his true homeland... to this sea he had longed for more than Paradise itself, for it was his only salvation, the only place where he could be free from pain.
(I want to come home...)
That longing had remained buried within his heart for four hundred years. He had returned to Odawara countless times since that first kanshou, but it had become a poor facsimile of the Odawara from his memories, never again home.
He didn’t know why that was, only that his homeland would never again exist anywhere but within his heart.
I have...no home to return to.
“...You think you know where my home is?” Takaya muttered, looking down at his feet. “When I’ve got nothing left?”
“Your home is with us,” the man answered quietly. “With our clan. It’s where you wanted to return to. You wanted to come back to your family. Everyone is waiting—waiting for you to come home. Father, too.”
Takaya’s head jerked up.
“Father is waiting for you to come home. Just as he did four hundred years ago. Even while he lay ill in bed he worried about your wellbeing. When you were sent to the Takeda, and then to Great Uncle and Uesugi in Echigo, he always regretted the necessity. But Saburou...”
“...”
“Father never once thought of you as some sort of chess piece. He always cherished you. In his heart, he felt he needed to apologize to you for what you had to go through. He asked after you even while he lay on the verge of death.”
Takaya began to tremble, ever so slightly.
“He...Father...did...?”
“Yes. You must know that he did not differentiate between us in the depth of his love for us. It was part of what made him a great man. He watched us grow and taught us all with the same stern, unwavering affection.”
“...”
“Saburou, you are our father’s son. You too are a child of the Houjou. Please come back. Toss aside the past crushing your soul...and this time...come home.”
As Takaya turned, the man said to him with unbearable gentleness in the darkness, “Come back to us.”
“...”
The plea tore at Takaya’s quivering heart, and he didn’t know if it was Kagetora’s heart or Ougi Takaya’s that yearned for what the man was holding out to him. That distinction was meaningless now; what he offered, the warmth of a family that his starved, lonely heart craved, was perhaps the homeland of his memories. A homeland filled with unwavering affection and the irreplaceable love of the parents who had given him birth. A homeland he had never again been able to find, no matter how longingly he reached out for it.
The man held out one large hand. Takaya approached, his own right hand reaching for that proffered warmth.
But in that moment—
An image suddenly flashed into the back of his head. A man garbed in the white costume of a warrior-priest gazed at him out of a white world with clear eyes both gentle and stern. And he knew that this was the warrior of righteousness who had galloped across the battlefield clad in the nobility of his ideals, who had been called the incarnation of Bishamonten: Uesugi Kenshin.
—Kagetora!
The sonorous voice tore apart the space between him and the man, and Takaya’s hand stopped dead.
(Father...!)
Takaya drew back as he returned to himself, hand curled into a fist and hard animosity in his eyes.
“Stop deluding yourself.”
“...!”
The man’s expression changed. Takaya added, glaring steadily at him, “I’m not a Houjou anymore. I don’t care who this guy Ujiyasu is, he’s got nothing to do with me. The only thing I care about is that you’re all onshou of the «Yami-Sengoku».”
“Saburou, how can you...!”
“I don’t know what you are to Kagetora, but it’s got nothing to do with me. If you’re an onshou of the Houjou, then I’ve got only one thing to do.”
“!”
Takaya glowed white in the darkness. The man flinched back slightly as Takaya began gathering his «power».
“Saburou, what are you doing?!”
“I’m gonna exorcise you! I don’t know whose body you’ve possessed, but you’d better leave right now! ’Cause otherwise, I am gonna perform «choubuku» on you!”
“Saburou!”
“My home...” Takaya yelled, hurling a «nenpa», at the man, “...is no longer with you!”
“!”
The sand at the man’s feet exploded with a hollow boom, flinging up sand in all directions. Takaya relentlessly flung one «nenpa» after another. A tornado of sand formed around the vortex of his power, and the man threw up a «goshinha» around himself, crying out desperately even as he gathered his power: “Stop, Saburou! I am not your enemy!”
“You’re an onshou, that’s all I need to know!”
He gathered power with all his might and focused it in his fist.
“You’d better haul ass to the next world right now!”
Sparks cascaded from the man’s «goshinha» as Takaya’s «nenpa» smashed into it. Both of them covered their eyes, waiting for the light to fade before re-engaging.
“Why are you doing this, Saburou?! Are you really going to kill your brother?!”
“Brother...?! All of my brothers died four hundred years ago!”
Takaya concentrated his ‘energy’ once more, and it flickered like flames around him.
“I’m not going back to the Houjou!”
The man suddenly realized that in a moment Takaya would bring his hands together in Bishamonten’s ritual gesture and envision his shuji.
“Saburou!” The man cried, reflexively countering with his own «nenpa».
“Uwagh!” It hit Takaya squarely, dropping him abruptly to the sand and tumbling him into the surf. The man quickly reached for his briefcase, opening it and taking from it a box containing a round disc-like object.
Panting and dripping, Takaya leveraged himself upright and glared fiercely at the man standing in front of him.
“Is there nothing I can do to convince you to lend us your strength, Saburou?” the man asked, cradling the silk-wrapped object in his arms. Takaya continued to glare at him. In the darkness, a look of pain flashed across the man’s face. “Nothing I can do to convince you to come back to us?”
“...”
“Nothing at all...?”
“You’re wasting your breath!” Takaya yelled, gathering power into his fists. A beam of reflected light flashed into his eyes. In the man’s hands, no longer covered beneath its cloth, was a mirror. A red mirror...
“Gaze upon this, Saburou!”
“Wh...!”
In the instant he met his own eyes in the mirror, light burst from its surface.
!
It struck his forehead like a thunderbolt. The world became a field of stark white, and it felt as if something were trying to tear his head from his body.
His reflection’s eyes scorched his retinas...
That was the last thing he saw.
Takaya’s soulless body collapsed to the sand and lay absolutely still.
The mirror in Ujiteru’s hands began to emit a heated red glow which pulsated like the beat of a heart as if the mirror itself had become a living thing.
(Saburou...)
Ujiteru murmured silently, softly cradling the mirror he had just used to seal his younger brother’s soul to his chest. For indeed it was the female ‘Tsutsuga Mirror’ stolen from Toushou Shrine: Ieyasu’s sacred relic.
The ‘soul-sealing mirror’ with the power to imprison human souls.
“Ujiteru-sama.”
Someone had come up to him from behind, walking soundlessly across the sand. Ujiteru carefully rewrapped the ‘Tsutsuga Mirror’ in its silk swathing before turning to him slowly.
The tall, broad-shouldered youth standing behind Ujiteru had long black hair which fell past his shoulders to his waist. His expressionless features did not quite look Japanese.
This man was Kotarou of the Fuuma.
The Fuuma, the Sagami ninja clan renowned for its agility and feared for its brutality even by other ninja clans, was the Houjou’s cloaked dagger. Daimyo had once trembled at their shadowy might. Fuuma Kotarou, its head, held absolute control over the clan. Once upon a time, he had been known as the mightiest ninja of the Sengoku.
“Kotarou?”
“You sealed Saburou-dono within the ‘Tsutsuga Mirror?’”
“No other choice had I. For otherwise Saburou would have enacted «choubuku» upon me.”
Ujiteru’s mouth tightened, and Kotarou studied him for a moment before asking, “Saburou-dono would not consent to submit to us?”
“I blame him not for‘t. He hath lived as one of the Uesugi for four hundred years. And we could not save him during the Otate no Ran. His resentment is just,” Ujiteru said, hands tightening on the ’Tsutsuga Mirror.’
Houjou Ujiteru was the third son of Ujiyasu, third head of the Houjou Clan. In his previous life, he had been master of Hachiouji Castle, a branch castle of Odawara Castle. During the Otate no Ran, he had advanced as far as Kouduke with reinforcements for Kagetora, but had been frustrated in the attempt by Takeda Katsuyori, who had betrayed them to join Kagekatsu and so had ultimately failed to come to his brother’s aid in the war that took his life.
That centuries-old regret devastated him even now as he imagined his brother’s faith in him, in a salvation that would never come.
(Dost thou truly hate me then, Saburou...?)
Ujiteru had brought Takaya here in order to persuade him back to the Houjou Clan. It was Kotarou who, in the midst of keeping a close watch on the rebellious Toshima Clan, had first spotted Kagetora at Nerima Castle and immediately reported that information to Ujiteru.
Ujiteru and the Houjou, too, had heard rumors of Kagetora, and their desire to have that power in their arsenal in the conquest of the «Yami-Sengoku» had intensified their search for him. Ujiteru had always been determined to bring his brother back home one day, but...
“Ujiteru-dono, shall we disposed of this now?” Kotarou asked with pragmatic efficiency as he walked towards Takaya’s body lying crumbled on the beach. “It would be best to do so immediately, for Saburou-dono poses a great danger to us if he will not agree to aid us. We cannot risk him returning to his body. Sealing him here was the best course. If this shell is no longer needed...”
“...”
Ujiteru wavered for a moment. Then he lifted his head and commanded firmly, “Bring the body to the car.”
“Ujiteru-dono...?” Kotarou’s questioning expression asked the ‘why?’ But Ujiteru refused to retract his command.
“I said bring it.”
“Aye, my lord,” Kotarou answered quietly, though not bothering to hide his doubt. He strode across the sand and lightly picked up Takaya’s body.
“Kotarou. How doth my brother? Fares he well?”
“Preparations proceed smoothly for Ujimasa-dono at Nikkou. Two souls have been chosen for the offering at Futarasan Shrine, both bound without incident into the sacred trees.”
“Then only the master tree remains?”
Ujiteru glared fiercely into the empty sky.
“Is something amiss?”
“Let them bring the final tribute. For he and he alone is fit for the master tree. Let them bring him, and the preparations at Nikkou will be complete within the day.”
“Them?”
Ujiteru’s expression had turned wary. “It seems my brother places much trust in them, but I have not his confidence. Is it mete that we should leave so much up to them...?”
Kotarou gave him a quick sidelong glance.
“Ujiteru-dono.”
“I can but leave Nikkou to my brother. My duty lies at . Come, let us away to the ‘Yatate Cedar’ at Hakone Shrine to make our offering—”
He looked down at the palely glowing mirror he cradled with such care. The ‘Tsutsuga Mirror,’ suborned by the Houjou into a soul-hunting tool, now held his brother’s soul in its womb. Ujiteru’s brows creased for a moment before he turned to Kotarou.
“Bring the car. Let us return to Hakone.”
“Yes, my lord.” Kotarou’s doubt-filled eyes followed Ujiteru’s receding figure as he adjusted his grip on Takaya’s hollowed body.
Waves rippled endlessly to Sagami Bay’s dark shore. In the sky, a red star twinkled.
Yuzuru and company had returned to Matsumoto late last night, and for them that day was filled with a tumult quite beyond that of the Opening Day Ceremony.
Yuzuru was so agitated after hearing from Takaya’s sister that morning that Takaya had not come home that he had left school several times and even skipped his afternoon club activities to check at Takaya’s house with Chiaki.
“I told you! This is why we shouldn’t have left him go off by himself!” Yuzuru flared. “As if there was any chance he’d get home before us!”
The obstinate Chiaki, who had borne Yuzuru’s censure since that morning, was looking decidedly sour. For he was indeed the one who had ignored Yuzuru’s pleas to go looking for Takaya and dragged him back home to Matsumoto virtually by the scruff of his neck.
“All right, all right! Shut up about it already, Narita!”
“You don’t know what he’ll do when he’s in that kind of mood! If anything happens to him, it’ll be your fault!”
“Geez, give it a rest already! This is that idiot we’re talking about—he’s probably having the time of his life in Kabuki Town or something!”
Yuzuru rounded on him fiercely, and Chiaki twitched back. “At least be a little contrite about it, since it was your fault!” he glowered.
“Humph! It’s ’cause you spoiled him that Kagetora turned into such a pussy!”
Yuzuru’s eyebrows jumped up. “I haven’t spoiled him! It’s because he’s so reckless that I worry about him!”
“Hah, is that right.” Chiaki’s tone only stoked Yuzuru’s anger.
“And what about you? You’re all over Takaya all the time—you never let up on him! Do you really hate him that much? Just what is it about him that rubs you the wrong way?”
“What is it about him? Everything, obviously!” Chiaki grumbled. “I can’t stand how vapid he is, like he’s another stupid punk just like all the other stupid punks around here.”
“Don’t you dare talk about him like that!”
“You don’t understand a damned thing!” Chiaki glared sharply back at Yuzuru. “The true Kagetora isn’t this half-hearted brat. He was better than this—a more complete and perfect being—someone who could make you quake in your boots! That’s why he was worth competing with.”
“...? Chiaki?”
“He always disgusted me. So he was the noble son of the great Houjou Ujiyasu, so what? Did that give him the right to lord it over everybody? He was a fucking moron to think he could take over as clan head just because he came from the mighty Houjou. After I first died, I was furious to have to serve under him, even if it was Kenshin himself who asked. I only agreed ’cause I never thought I’d be around this long.” Chiaki snorted in annoyance. “I wasn’t gonna come out second-best to somebody like him! I’ve got my pride as a hereditary vassal of the Uesugi Clan too, you know. And besides, look at how the Houjou ended up.”
“So that’s why you always saw him as your rival? You’re talking about stuff that happened four hundred years ago. Don’t you think it’s kinda dumb to still be all hung up about who’s a Houjou and who’s an Uesugi?”
“Are you trying to piss me off?” Chiaki flared.
“Well, it’s true! You’re the one who’s still so wrapped up in the Sengoku Era that you can’t let anything go.”
“...”
Chiaki closed his mouth, stumped by Yuzuru’s shrewd observations. It was certainly true that the Houjou-Uesugi rivalry had only motivated him at the beginning. His desire to compete against Kagetora had sprung from a deep knowledge of Kagetora’s character and true abilities as a Yasha-shuu of the Uesugi Army. For his part, Kagetora had never been one to take him lightly. At times even Nagahide had been forced to acknowledge that here was indeed the son of Houjou Ujiyasu, whose name had been no less venerated than that of Shingen and Kenshin, the other great heroes of the Kantou.
Resistance had transformed into rivalry. To see Kagetora’s greatness was to long for the chance to strive against him. No one without that greatness was worthy of the title of his rival, for pitting himself against a weaker opponent was meaningless. It had to be someone whose true strength he could inwardly admire, whose existence could be his pride.
In a person’s life, how often might one find someone one might truly give the title of ‘rival?’ Yet Nagahide had Kagetora. Someone against whom there was no need to hold back any of his true strength. Was that not reason enough to live?
(That’s why I will never forgive Kagetora for what he has become.)
And therein lay Chiaki’s resentment.
Not that he really had the leisure to explain all of that to Yuzuru. To Yuzuru, only ‘Ougi Takaya’ existed.
“Kagetora, Kagetora—that’s all you see! You just want to rant at him. Fine, just go home already! I’ll go look for him by myself,” Yuzuru snapped, and began walking rapidly away from Takaya’s building.
“Wh...! Hey, where do you think you’re going?!”
“I’m going back to Tokyo! I’m going back to look for Takaya!”
“You’re what?! Hey! Narita!”
Ignoring him, Yuzuru headed up the hill road toward the station. A black Crown came up from behind and pulled to a sudden stop in front of him, cutting him off. What the...he stopped. The passenger-side door opened, and an unfamiliar youth around his own age stepped out.
What’s going on? Yuzuru wondered as the delicate yet intelligent-looking, dark-eyed youth came toward him.
“Are you Narita Yuzuru-san...?”
“Huh? Uh, yes. I am...” Yuzuru responded bewilderedly as a wary Chiaki stepped in front of him protectively.
“Who the hell are you?” he growled—right before the paralysis hit him.
“Ugh...!”
“Chiaki?”
The young man’s hand came chopping down against Yuzuru’s neck.
“!”
Yuzuru dropped soundlessly to the ground. Chiaki cried out sharply, but the binding held him fast. The youth lifted Yuzuru from the asphalt.
“Damn...you...!”
“I need Narita-dono to accompany me.”
The dark-eyed young man said, lifting Yuzuru up to the man who had stepped out of the driver’s side. Chiaki struggled desperately against his bounds, but they refused to yield. What was this power?!
“Who...are...you?!”
“You are one of the Uesugi, yes?” The youth guessed astutely. “I am taking Narita-dono. We have need of the power he displayed in Sendai.”
“Where the hell did you come from...?!”
The youth returned Chiaki’s gaze quietly, and a gasp shivered across his shoulders. For a moment he thought a white mist had blurred across his vision before he realized his opponent had called a thick fog to conceal his retreat.
(What the hell...?!)
“Please tell Naoe-uji—” the young man’s disembodied voice drifted to him out of the fog. “I will not fail to take revenge for my mother’s death in Yamagata.”
“! You...you’re...!”
Date Kojirou, Masamune’s younger brother, who had disappeared after the battle against Mogami in Sendai—the same battle in which Naoe had «exorcised» his mother Hoshunin. But why would he be here...?!
“You think I’m just gonna let you leave, you little punk?”
Chiaki mustered his «power» and sliced through the paralysis, then immediately went on the offensive with a blast of «nenpa».
“!”
It connected. His opponent had not been quick enough to dodge the unexpected counterattack. The fog cleared. So it was just an illusion after all—mere trickery. Chiaki focused his power between his brows.
“You think something like this can stop me?”
That was when his opponent made his move. From out of nowhere, several silhouettes advanced on Chiaki, assaulting him with a hail of energy shaped by will into pebble-hard projectiles.
“Guh...!”
He wove a «goshinha» around himself. Plasmatic shards scattered violently in all directions as a merciless coordinated attack pinned him in place. By the time he realized that he had been surrounded, it was too late. Kojirou and his servant were already speeding away with the unconscious Yuzuru. Chiaki, still holding his «goshinha» against the relentless attack, had nothing left to spare.
“Enough!”
Furious, Chiaki threw everything into an explosion of «power».
Boom!
Light erupted violently from Chiaki’s body to consume the attack before overwhelming it entirely with a thunderous roar.
“Bastards...!”
As he set out to give chase, he felt something grab his foot.
“What the!”
He wrenched around to see that a white hand had emerged from the asphalt to clutch at his foot. As he struggled to pull free, the blood-covered decapitated head of a woman appeared behind him.
“You’re not getting away from me,” it told him, laughing eerily out of its crushed and ruined face. Its black hair abruptly elongated and wrapped itself around Chiaki’s body.
“Guh...!”
The hair coiled around him with the tensile strength of steel and began to squeeze the life out of him. Strands wrapped around his neck and tightened. He couldn’t breathe!
“Gaa....agh...”
The woman’s severed head sneered mockingly at the anguish twisting Chiaki’s face. He choked, sinking to his knees as the strength drained out of him.
(...You...bitch...!)
Writhing and gasping, Chiaki reached into his pocket and drew out a small kokeshi doll-like object.
It was a koppashin: the representation of a divine being carved from sacred wood. This, the Shoumen Kongou, Chiaki carried for protection. Chiaki chanted the shingon in a nearly soundless wheeze and drew the accompanying seed syllable in the air.
“ (Un)!”
A deep rumble shook the ground as the wrathful blue-skinned god manifested onto the earthly plane. It opened its mouth wide and spat out a ball of pure white light.
!
For a moment the world turned incandescent white. There was a short scream, and the hair disappeared, releasing Chiaki abruptly. He panted for a moment before looking up.
“Hah. Good thing I had that on me...” he muttered to himself as he glared into the distance after the car that had abducted Yuzuru.
(Narita—...!)