Previous chapter: Book Edition – Countryside <2> [Izanagi-ryu]
● Countryside <3> [The Devourer of Mikogami]
"Morning."
Yukio's voice woke me up.
Instantly, I went into combat mode, just like the night before.
"You're bright-eyed right after waking up, aren't you?"
Watching me jump right up with an admiring look, Yukio laughed. I looked around, and Shisho's futon was already empty. Koko-san's was too. He could have woken me up, I thought, as I spoke to Yukio.
"Where is everyone?"
"Taking a walk, maybe?" With that, Yukio gazed at the three futons lined up in the room.
"What's going on here?"
Maybe he had imagined something strange, because his expression had turned peculiar. Ignoring him, I left the room and walked out from the veranda. Sensing human presence near the annex, I headed that way.
The weather outside was fine. A cloud or two drifted in the sky.
Today was supposed to be a continuation of yesterday, but perhaps because I was standing in the morning sun, that terrifying experience felt unreal, like an illusion. In fact, wasn't it just a dream or an illusion? Thinking such things, I pushed the wooden gate and stepped through the hedge.
The annex was there, just like the previous night, and Shisho, Kyosuke-san, and Koko-san had gathered around it. Shisho was calling out to someone inside the room, but then he looked at me and made a gesture indicating it was hopeless.
"Morning."
"Good morning," I replied, approaching as I asked, "What's going on?"
"No good. They won't let us in." Shisho said this and tugged on the sliding door, but it only rattled and wouldn't open. It seemed a bar had been placed across the inside to prevent it from opening.
The windows were the same; the storm shutters were closed, and through the gap, something resembling Old Man's eyes peeked out. But then a hand reached out, making a shooing gesture as if to chase us away.
"The person inside seems fine, but this is a no-go."
Shisho sighed and gave the door a solid thud. Kyosuke-san stood with his arms folded across his chest, saying nothing. When I looked at his eyes, they were bloodshot. Having entered his third consecutive all-nighter, he looked utterly wretched. Beside him, Koko-san, who should have slept plenty, kept yawning.
"What's everybody up to?"
Yukio came through the hedge and joined us. For some reason, feeling awkward, I blurted out, "Nothing at all."
"Say, the Old Man lives in this annex, right?"
"Yeah. Wasn't he here?"
Asked by Shisho, Yukio answered with carefree indifference.
"Was he a *tayû* of the Izanagi-ryu?"
"Hmm. Well, I suppose so."
During dinner on the first night, when the topic of wanting to learn about the Izanagi-ryu came up, hadn't everyone in this house remained silent about it? On the contrary, we were told things like the Old Man was practically bedridden. What could be deduced from this was…
"Well, lately he seems to be getting a bit senile, you see."
Finding it difficult to say, Yukio scratched his face.
As I thought. Was that the reason he had been saying incomprehensible things?
Just as I thought that, I waited a second. What about the baby made of paper inside the mirror, and the moving paper dolls? Did all of us share a hallucination?
I looked at Shisho, but he looked as though he were deep in thought.
"Time to eat breakfast," Auntie's voice echoed from the main house.
Everyone exchanged glances and hurriedly left the grounds of the annex.
Surrounding the dining table were the aunt and uncle, the four of us, and Yukio and Hatsuko-san—eight people in total—eating a breakfast menu of grilled salmon, river nori, and rolled omelet.
"I've got a bit of business this morning, so I'll drive you back just past noon. Until then, make yourselves at home."
Hearing the uncle's proposal, we all looked at Shisho in unison. I didn't quite understand what was happening, but thoroughly unpleasant things were occurring. It felt like retreating as quickly as possible was best. As for a driver to the town, there was Yukio. Today was Saturday. Didn't he come here with that very intention?
However, Shisho said, "Please do," and bowed his head to the uncle. Beside him, Koko-san pouted, saying, "My rolled omelet is one piece short."
Did she even realize what was happening?
"Didn't a rat take it?" Koko-san teased, stealing a piece of rolled omelet from Yukio's plate and eating it.
Kyosuke-san remained unresponsive to the commotion, quietly moving his chopsticks with a completely blank expression. He looked thoroughly exhausted. Wouldn't it really be better to just go home right away? I thought that and looked at Shisho, but he was silently reaching for a piece of grilled salmon as well.
Does anyone here actually understand what is going on?
The breakfasts laid out were for seven people. Yet there were eight people gathered around the low table.
Among them, Hatsuko-san, who was sitting with us at the table, was made of paper.
A life-sized paper doll that looked remarkably like Hatsuko-san moved chopsticks also made of paper in front of its bumpy face. I tried not to look its way, but every time it entered the edge of my vision, I felt like I was going to throw up whatever I had eaten.
The aunt and uncle and Yukio didn't seem to see it, showing no reaction whatsoever. That was precisely why I couldn't scream out. What on earth is this? The continuation of yesterday's nightmare had abruptly begun. Did Shisho and the others notice? Falling under the illusion that space was bending and warping, I shoveled down my breakfast.
"Thanks for the meal."
Almost simultaneously, everyone finished eating, put down their chopsticks, pressed their palms together, and stood up from the table. The aunt and uncle headed toward the kitchen. And the four of us companions, along with Yukio, headed toward the garden. The paper Hatsuko-san made a momentary hesitant gesture as if wondering whether to go to the kitchen too, then followed us out to the garden a little late.
"Sensei told me. To bring you guys over one more time."
Once we got to the garden, Yukio brought that up.
"Why?"
"I don't really get it, but he said if things stay like this, it's bad, or something like that."
As we walked, Shisho heard this and threw back another question.
"The Old Man had a black mask. Do you know about it?"
"Ah, you mean the grandpa mask? The grandpa mask of the twelve *hinago*."
"What was a twelve *hinago* again?"
"Hmm. I don't really know, but that's what they call 'em."
"It's a mask related to the Izanagi-ryu, right?"
"Yeah. Our hamlet has them too. Demon-like masks. Well, they're kind of guardian deity masks, ya see. In this house, there should be a grandpa mask and a grandma mask that the Old Man brought. Really, it'd probably be better to enshrine them at a shrine or something, but the Old Man holds onto them for dear life and won't let go."
A guardian deity? Yesterday, it had looked ominous, as if it were meant to bring a curse.
Gradually feeling the presence of the paper Hatsuko-san following closely behind me, I walked toward the entrance. Did Shisho and the others really notice? Was I the one who had to do something about it?
"Excuse me. We're going to borrow the car again."
Shisho called out toward the house. "Sure thing. The keys are still in it," came the reply.
"Going already? Well then, I'll lead the way on my bike again."
With that, Yukio started running. The rest of us climbed into the uncle's car. Shisho in the driver's seat. Myself in the passenger seat. In the back seat were Koko-san and Kyosuke-san. There was no seat for Hatsuko-san. Yet her paper hands reached out toward the closed door. Just as Kyosuke-san suddenly reached his hand outside, he produced a cigarette lighter from his palm like magic. Then he set Hatsuko-san on fire.
It happened in an instant. The paper Hatsuko-san flared up and collapsed on the spot. Pitch-black smoke rose, and eventually, it too faded away. All that remained behind were ashes.
As he started the car, Shisho said,
"Looks like we can't just go home like this after all."
I remembered the countless faces I had envisioned when coming to this village. Various faces had emerged along the roadside, and every single one of them seemed to be saying: *Go home.* Now, those same faces were speaking another phrase all at once.
*(We won't let you go back) (We won't let you go back) (We won't let you go back)*
…
I shook my head and snapped out of it. Regaining my senses, I roared,
"What was that just now?!"
In broad daylight, a human made of paper had been walking around. Such an unreal, abnormal event made me doubt whether I was truly awake right now. I pinched my cheek as hard as I could, but the pain was real.
"Shut up."
Kyosuke-san scolded me. "It echoes in my head."
"Anyway, this is the work of a human," Shisho said. "If we don't find out who's behind this, there's nothing we can do. Since he went out of his way to summon us, Yukio's teacher should be able to tell us something."
That's right. For now, we had no choice but to bet on that.
Guided by Yukio's motorcycle, we took the same road as yesterday, heading deep into the mountains. We pressed endlessly forward on a road where the pavement was cracked and riddled with holes, and fragments of rock that had tumbled down from the slopes were scattered about.
Every time we wound our way through the thick grove of trees, it felt as though the exact same scenery was repeating itself, sending a chill down my spine. However, the bizarre phenomenon from yesterday—where we couldn't escape the mountain roads—did not happen again, and without losing sight of Yukio's bike, we arrived at the teacher's house.
It was a detached house halfway up the mountain, with no other houses in sight. Even for a remote countryside area, it was a particularly isolated location.
Just like yesterday, several chickens wandered around the enclosure in the wide garden. A large tree stretched out as if leaning against the two-story Japanese-style house, giving it a rather dignified appearance.
We parked our cars in a row at the corner of the garden where Yukio had left his bike. The four of us who got out of the car, plus Yukio—five people in total—stood in front of the entrance. When we called out from outside, a reply told us to come in.
"Pardon the intrusion."
As I was taking off my shoes at the entrance, Yukio's teacher came over with a stern look on his face. Without a word, he led us to the same guest room as yesterday.
We each took our seats on the cushions arranged around the table. Shisho opened his mouth to speak, but the teacher preempted him.
"My people are out at my home village. I can't serve tea."
With his back straight and arms folded, he glared at each of our faces one by one.
"Yukio. You're not needed here."
Taken aback by the sudden words, Yukio looked surprised. However, nodding three times, he said, "Well, I just dropped 'em off, and I got business to do anyway, so I'll be heading back."
With that, he rose from the seat he had just lowered himself into. He looked bewildered by the teacher's stern face and tone.
After seeing off Yukio as he said "See ya" and left the room, the four of us and the teacher exchanged glances.
Before long, the teacher stared intently at Shisho's face and began to speak.
"Looks like you've gotten yourselves into a troublesome situation."
"Is that because we didn't leave immediately, as you warned us?"
Even at this stage, Shisho was still making lighthearted remarks.
"Since yesterday, the mountain has been restless."
The teacher cast his gaze toward the window. Prompted by him, I looked that way too, but the shoji screens remained closed, and I could only sense the light from outside. Yet, perhaps due to his grave tone, my jittery heart from moments before felt somewhat calmed.
The teacher had said the mountain was restless, but the surroundings were eerily quiet. Not a single sound could be heard. It felt as though we had been left behind in the innermost depths of a deep mountain, destined to be forgotten by the world forever.
"There are a few things I'd like to ask you."
When Shisho said this, the teacher gave a deep nod.
Starting from something buried at the four-way intersection on the first day, Shisho proceeded to explain what had happened up until this morning in chronological order.
The teacher listened intently, but right at the part about the phenomenon that occurred in the Old Man's annex, he suddenly stood up, took a rope from the cupboard, and began stringing it around to cover the four corners of the room.
A protective barrier. Kyosuke-san started to stand up to help, but was told, "Stay seated." Koko-san wore a bored expression, looking as though she couldn't even tell whether she was listening to the exchange or not.
"And so."
Prompted by the teacher while he worked, Shisho finished explaining the situation. The teacher gave his own face a sharp slap with the palm of his hand, followed by a motion as if stroking his cheeks, and let out a sigh. Watching this, Shisho said,
"Honestly, I can't believe it. Even if the Izanagi-ryu preserves ancient practices like Onmyodo, how could it successively cause such realistic phenomena?"
I thought to myself: Exactly. No matter how remote this village might be, it was connected to urban areas by roads—it was part of a continuous world. We hadn't strayed into some alternate realm while alive. And yet, how could such unbelievable things happen back-to-back?
"Old folks often say it. That the *tayû* of the past were great," the teacher replied to Shisho, as if reminiscing.
"Whether it was pacification or prayer, they were far greater than the *tayû* of today. Times have changed. Why do *suso* come into existence? Because people envy. Because people bear grudges. Because people hate. Above all, because they lack.
In a land like this, far removed from the villages, people starve. For the sake of survival, they will even steal from others. And so they try to protect themselves from that malicious intent.
You asked why there is no amulet for the Inugami, didn't you? The Inugami is a beast that reads people's feelings of jealousy and envy toward others and curses them of its own accord. Once the technique is successfully performed, even the practitioner can no longer control it. It becomes tied to a family bloodline, and when a girl is born, seven more appear. When she marries, it follows her to that household too. The amulet is what seals it away when it cannot be returned. A lowly technique like the Inugami is returned by a *tayû*. You can tell just by looking at the number of amulets how many obstructions there are that cannot be easily returned.
The *tayû* of the past pacified, exorcised, and sealed the countless *suso* born every day, along with the entangled demons and the retainers of the gods. Times are different now. Even old folks in these mountains receive pensions. Everyone smiles. No one starves. The *tayû* are no longer needed."
Behold.
The teacher pointed to the sacred straw rope enclosing the four sides of the room. No, to the papercraft attached to that rope. It was a doll shaped like a human. It looked very much like the ones we saw in the Old Man's room.
"These amulets are called the twelve *hinago*. They represent the *tayû*. In the past, grand *tayû* rituals like home exorcisms required twelve *tayû*. Nowadays, the population in the land has decreased, the *suso* have decreased, the *tayû* have decreased, and it is no longer possible to gather as many as twelve *tayû*. These are substitutes for those lacking *tayû*."
"The twelve *hinago*?"
Shisho tilted his head in puzzlement. I recognized that word too. If I recall correctly, Yukio had called the Old Man's masks by that name.
"The *tayû* of old possessed a power incomparable to today's. It is handed down that if *tayû* from different hamlets ever tested their spiritual powers against each other, they would clash with summoned Shikioji, shatter giant boulders, summon fireballs, and unleash powers rivaling natural disasters."
The teacher glanced briefly at the shoji screen leading toward the garden.
"Nowadays, they use dynamite for civil engineering work, explosives. In the past, that was something the *tayû* undertook. They moved boulders with spiritual power. Not only that, there was even a rite called *yamatsuyashi*."
"Yamatsuyashi?" Shisho repeated, to which the teacher said, "It is the sorcery of 'exhausting the mountain,' meaning to cause a mountain to collapse."
Hearing that, I was dumbfounded by the sheer scale of it. A terrifying power.
"But that's a power of past *tayû* that exists only in legend, right? What on earth is happening now?"
To Shisho's question, the teacher let out another deep sigh.
For a short while, silence fell. I watched the exchange between Shisho and the teacher, holding my breath. Kyosuke-san similarly said nothing, merely staring fixedly at the exchange. Koko-san maintained her usual bored expression, fidgeting with a frayed edge of her floor cushion.
Amidst that silence, I felt a strange sense of incongruity. There was something odd about the quietness from moments before. It wasn't that the silence itself was unpleasant, but how should I put it—I felt as though I was overlooking something. What on earth was this?
My train of thought was interrupted by the teacher's words.
"Tomeki-san used to be a fine *tayû*."
"You mean the Old Man?" Shisho confirmed. The teacher nodded.
"He was skilled at divination, not using lots or rice divination, but using *azusa* bows—something almost extinct nowadays."
Lots were supposed to be divination using Buddhist prayer beads. It was relatively common, and I had seen it myself. When you wanted to divine something, you determined its outcome—whether good or bad, success or failure—by whether the number of beads you gripped in your hand was odd or even. I had never heard of '*azusa*,' but it was presumably a form of divination using a bow.
"However, a *tayû* is fundamentally meant to 'repel' (*haneru*). Divination is meant to 'receive' (*ukeru*). A *tayû* cannot keep going if they take in too much."
The teacher's eyelids drooped heavily.
"If a disciple keeps taking things in, the master makes them stop being a *tayû*. I heard that the permission for Tomeki-san to act as a *tayû* was originally granted by his grandfather, Kesazuru-san, but he only learned the *azusa* bow later in life."
"Permission… I've heard of that. It's when a master allows a disciple to take the name of a *tayû*, right?"
"That's right. A *tayû* is permitted to study under multiple masters. One skilled in healing rituals, one skilled in household exorcisms, one specifically skilled in extraction. *Tayû* vary greatly. Permission is received for each."
"When Tomeki-san came to start absorbing the *suso*, the master who could have made him stop was no longer of this world. By now, he probably can't perform *tayû* rites anymore."
I remembered Yukio saying about the Old Man, "He seems to be getting a bit senile, you see."
Was that also because of the repeated acts of 'receiving'?
"To serve under a master is not simply about learning rituals and techniques. Of course, liturgical texts are passed down as well, but the true meaning of studying under a master is inheriting the master's *mikogami*."
*Mikogami.* Hearing that word made me tense up slightly.
*(As expected, he possesses quite the mikogami.)*
Inside the Old Man's room, the paper doll—the twelve *hinago* mimicking a *tayû*—had said just that. What on earth was a *mikogami*? And those words had clearly been directed at Shisho.
I secretly glanced at Shisho's face. Shisho repeated the paper doll's words back to the teacher once more.
"Does *mikogami* mean guardian spirits or ancestral deities?"
"Slightly… different. It's not like ancestors watching over their descendants and kin. A *mikogami* is something you welcome in."
"Welcome?"
"For example, after the master of a house dies, while he is laid to rest in the grave, his spirit is defiled by death. As the years pass, at the appropriate time, that spirit is raised from the grave. This is an *arahitogami* (manifest god). To wash away the clinging defilement of death, it is celebrated with a 'taking-up kagura' (*toriage kagura*). Through this, it becomes an *aramikogami* (wrathful mikogami). Furthermore, after several years, a 'welcoming kagura' (*mukae kagura*) is held, and only then does it truly become a *mikogami*."
The teacher clasped his prayer beads in his hands and closed his eyes.
"Even if they are *tayû*, humans are human. Naturally, they should stand no chance of matching demons and the retainers of the gods on equal terms. A *tayû* prays by borrowing the power of a *mikogami*. Borrowing the power of former humans who have become gods. The more powerful the person, the more powerful the *mikogami* they become. A dead *tayû* becomes an exceedingly powerful *mikogami*. If there is a demon lingering about, they threaten it: 'I'll go bring Chisaburo from the inner mountains.' A *tayû* who was skilled at subduing demons remains a powerful *mikogami* who can 'repel' demons even in death."
With a clicking sound, the prayer beads moved in the teacher's hands. He seemed to be counting the beads with his fingers.
"A *tayû* welcomes their dead master as a *mikogami* and borrows that power for their rituals. Eventually, they take on a disciple, and when they themselves die, they lend their power to that disciple as a *mikogami* once more. The lineage of *tayû* that has been continuously handed down in this manner protects the next generation of *tayû*. Behind a single *tayû*, many *tayû* attend as *mikogami*."
I rubbed my eyes.
Behind the teacher, who was speaking with solemn gravity, a heat-haze-like…