A crack ran through the barrier covering the tower.
There was no sound.
And yet, everyone there held their breath.
Like a transparent pane of glass developing a fracture, a thin crack raced across the surface of the pale luminous membrane.
The barrier covering the Calming Tower was counted among the highest-grade seals in this country. Maintained for hundreds of years through repeated repairs and sacred rites, it was not the kind of thing that would waver from a little spiritual interference.
Considering what was sealed inside, it would be a problem if it did waver.
Miroku unconsciously tightened his grip on the Divine Scales.
A chilly sensation traveled into his palm.
The small scales were still pointing north, as usual.
Except they weren't indicating the cracked tower.
They were pointing farther below it.
Underground, beneath the Imperial Palace.
He had a bad feeling about this.
Why was this happening so soon after his second life had begun?
At this point in his first life, things had been more peaceful.
He went to school, slept, and worked his part-time job.
Every now and then, he was dragged out as a ritual exorcist and harassed by Yoshitsune and the others.
It had been a hassle in its own way, but at least he had no memory of a crack appearing in a tower that sealed a god.
It was while Miroku was thinking about that that he heard the rustle of clothing from the far end of the corridor.
Several ritual exorcists were coming toward them.
When he saw the man walking at the front, Miroku drew his brows together slightly.
His father.
The current head of the Kannagi family.
The head of the family that presided over sacred rites and ceremonial observances, and a man who stood near the top even among this country's ritual exorcists.
He wore a white-based kariginu robe with dark purple hakama.
His long black hair was loosely tied back.
Going by his appearance alone, he looked less like a ritual official than one of the noble courtiers from a story.
His finely formed features gave no sense of his age, and his eyes always held a gentle warmth.
He never lost his soft smile and rarely ever raised his voice.
His features, his entire air.
He looked a lot like Yoshitsune.
Miroku had thought so for years.
And the two of them got along astonishingly poorly.
Miroku secretly suspected it was because they were so alike, but telling either of them that would only create more unnecessary trouble, so he kept quiet.
When his father spotted Miroku, his usual soft smile deepened just a little.
“Miroku. You made it out safely.”
“You can see that for yourself.”
“Now, now. Don't say things like that.”
Even his tone was gentle.
But Miroku failed to notice that his father's steps were slightly quicker than usual.
The first thing the man checked was neither the tower nor the scales.
It was Miroku.
From head to toe.
Was he hurt?
Behind his smile, he checked everything in an instant.
“Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?”
“No. I'm perfectly normal. Full of energy.”
“Any nausea or dizziness? Does your body feel heavy? Are you hearing any strange voices?”
“Dad.”
Miroku narrowed his eyes.
“I didn't come here for a physical.”
“Right. But just in case.”
“I'm fine.”
“Good.”
A short reply.
The conversation was over. To Miroku, he looked like his usual father.
Yoshitsune, however, noticed that the man's right hand, hidden inside his sleeve, was clenched so tightly that his nails were digging into his palm.
Perhaps he sensed Yoshitsune's gaze, because Miroku's father turned to him, and their eyes met.
“I'm glad you're safe as well, Lord Yoshitsune.”
“Thank you.”
“I hear you took Miroku somewhere dangerous.”
“It's the other way around. I followed him.”
“Next time, I'd appreciate it if you stopped him.”
“Yes... I'll keep that in mind.”
Shigure looked between the two of them and quietly asked Yozuru,
“Why are those two scary when they're both smiling?”
Yozuru didn't answer.
Apparently, he had decided it would be wiser not to get involved.
After finishing his exchange with Yoshitsune, Miroku's father turned his gaze toward the tower. That alone changed the atmosphere.
The ritual exorcists standing by nearby straightened slightly in the tense air.
“Separate the north tower from the Third Barrier. Close the spirit route to the other towers for now. Seal off the northern corridor as well until we can confirm the condition of the seal.”
“But if we isolate the north tower, the strain on the seal—”
“I know.”
His father cut him off gently.
“So hurry. What about the ritual officials inside?”
“They have all completed their evacuation.”
“Then there's no problem. Begin.”
“Yes, sir.”
The ritual exorcists scattered all at once.
Those who had gathered in the garden unfurled talismans, while others carved new formulas into the corridor pillars.
The sound of a purification litany began to echo from far away.
As if responding to it, the buildings of the Imperial Palace themselves began to glow with a pale light.
The land.
The buildings.
The waterways.
The trees.
The stone paving.
The entire Imperial Palace, designed as a gigantic altar, began to move to suppress the abnormality in the seal.
Miroku watched in silence.
A seal managed by the state.
Naturally, it wasn't something a single exorcist could handle.
That was normal.
The abnormal thing was that he and Yoshitsune had been dealing with it alone in the north building.
Even so.
The Divine Scales in his palm paid no attention whatsoever to the ritual exorcists' movements.
They still pointed underground.
“Dad.”
“Hmm?”
“This.”
Miroku lifted the Divine Scales slightly.
“They're not pointing at the tower.”
His father's gaze fell to the Divine Scales.
“Then what are they pointing at?”
“Underground.”
For the briefest instant, the smile vanished from his father's face.
It truly was only an instant.
Less than the time it took to blink.
But Miroku didn't miss it.
He knew something.
Miroku sensed it instinctively.
“What's underground?”
“This isn't the place to discuss that.”
“So there is something.”
“It's not good to twist people's words like that.”
“You raised me.”
“I don't remember raising you that way.”
“That's what you get for neglecting my education.”
His father laughed awkwardly.
But he didn't answer Miroku's question.
That alone was enough.
There was something beneath the Imperial Palace.
And whatever it was, even Miroku—the presumed successor to the Kannagi family—was not meant to know about it.
Not that he had the slightest intention of taking over.
The signs of trouble were getting stronger.
Miroku moved to put away the Divine Scales.
That was when—
Ching.
The scales rang.
His fingers stopped.
Again.
Ching.
The Divine Scales trembled.
They rose from his palm.
The single set of scales split apart against Miroku's will.
One became two.
Two became four.
Four sets of Divine Scales scattered around Miroku.
This time, his father's expression changed unmistakably.
“Miroku.”
“It wasn't me,” Miroku said first.
“They're moving on their own.”
East.
West.
South.
North.
The four sets surrounded Miroku.
The people nearby sensed that something abnormal was happening.
No one spoke.
The Divine Scales slowly changed direction.
All four pans.
At the same time.
They turned toward Miroku.
“...Huh?”
Miroku let out a dazed sound.
The Divine Scales.
They were pointing at him.
That alone made no sense.
But his father's reaction was even more incomprehensible.
“Don't move.”
His voice was as gentle as ever.
Even so, his father took a step toward Miroku.
“Stay just like that.”
“I wasn't moving.”
“Good. That's my boy.”
“Don't treat me like a child.”
There was no answer.
His father was looking only at the Divine Scales.
He wasn't smiling.
That was unusual.
The pans of the Divine Scales wobbled.
Once.
Twice.
To the right.
To the left.
And then.
All four sets came to a stop, perfectly level.
Ching.
A single clear note rang out.
The next moment, the Divine Scales stacked together as though nothing had happened and returned to a single set.
They dropped into Miroku's palm.
“...What the hell was that?”
Naturally, there was no answer.
At least, that's what it seemed like to Miroku.
His father wasn't looking at the Divine Scales anymore. This time, he was looking at Miroku.
The color had drained from his gentle expression.
“Dad?”
“...It's nothing.”
“You have the face of a man who absolutely knows something.”
“Your imagination.”
“No way.”
His usual smile returned.
That only made it more suspicious.
“More importantly, will you tell me what happened in the north building?”
He was changing the subject.
Obvious.
But even if Miroku pressed him now, he probably wouldn't answer.
Miroku gave up.
The white woman.
The faceless supernatural anomaly.
The red thread.
The divine presence he had felt at its end.
The voice demanding that she be given her body back.
The bones left behind after the white woman vanished.
He explained everything in order, one detail at a time.
His father didn't interrupt once.
However.
The moment Miroku mentioned the bones carved with divine-age script, his eyes narrowed slightly.
“Do you have them with you?”
“Yes.”
Miroku reached into his robe.
At that instant, his father's hand shot out.
“Don't touch them any further.”
He took the cloth-wrapped bundle from Miroku.
He cradled the bones through the cloth as if they were fragile.
“Did you touch them with your bare hands?”
“Yes. I only picked them up, so maybe a few seconds.”
“Did you hear a voice?”
“‘Give it back.’”
His father fell silent.
“...Dad. You do know something, don't you?”
He didn't deny it.
He didn't confirm it, either.
He simply stared at the bones.
That silence was his answer.
Yep. Trouble confirmed.
Miroku sagged inwardly.
“Go home for today.”
“I have work after this.”
“Take the day off.”
“I don't want to. If I miss another shift, they'll cut my hours.”
“I'll cover the difference—”
“That isn't the point.”
His father looked a little troubled.
The expression looked oddly like Yoshitsune's, which irritated Miroku for some reason.
“...I see.”
His father didn't press the matter any further.
Miroku looked away.
So.
He didn't notice his father slightly tightening his fingers around the cloth-wrapped bones.
Nor did he notice what had surfaced in the depths of his eyes.
Once the area around the tower had been sealed off, Miroku and the others were moved to a room in the Imperial Palace.
No matter that they were successors to the Five Great Elder Houses or the next Emperor—they were still high school students.
And now that the possibility had emerged that the thing being sealed was a god, there was no way they could be allowed back into the field.
Miroku had no objections.
He had no hobby of throwing himself into dangerous places.
The problem was.
He was bored.
From far away, he could hear the comings and goings of ritual exorcists, along with the occasional voice reciting the purification litany.
The silence should have been calming, but today it felt strangely heavy.
Miroku lay on the tatami, using his arm as a pillow as he stared at the ceiling.
Regression.
The white woman.
The bones.
The underground of the Imperial Palace.
The Divine Scales.
And then.
The Divine Scales pointing at him.
He lined them up in his mind.
None of them had happened in his first life.
Or had they?
Miroku furrowed his brow.
Had they not happened the first time? Or had he simply forgotten?
The more he thought about it, the worse he felt.
So he stopped thinking and closed his eyes. Time to sleep. Sleep was important.
That was when footsteps approached from the hall.
“Lord Miroku Kannagi.”
A man's voice came from beyond the sliding door.
Miroku opened one eye, looking annoyed.
“Come in.”
Since getting up himself felt like too much effort, he glanced toward Shigure, who was sitting near the door.
Shigure looked as though he wanted to say, Why me? But in the end, he opened the sliding door.
The person who entered was one of the ritual implement craftsmen employed by the Imperial Palace.
A man in a white kariginu robe. He carried an old paulownia box in his hands.
Nothing strange about that.
The problem was.
The man was wearing a komote mask over his face.
The air in the room stopped.
Miroku.
For a moment.
He couldn't move.
His sleepiness.
Vanished completely.
That was not.
A mask a human being should be wearing.
At least.
No human other than Miroku could wear it.
“The repair of the mask you entrusted to us is complete, so I've come to return it.”
As if nothing were wrong, the man knelt in front of Miroku and held out the paulownia box.
Miroku looked at the man's face.
Then.
At the paulownia box.
And then.
Back at the man.
“...Thanks.”
“Not at all.”
Miroku took the box.
Something was off.
The weight in his hands.
It was far too light.
A bad sensation ran down Miroku's spine.
He opened the lid.
It was empty.
Slowly.
He raised his eyes.
The komote mask covering the man's face.
Warped.
A single.
Wrinkle appeared on its white cheek.
Then.
Another.
The smooth forehead crumpled, and the thin brows drooped.
The mouth.
Grinned.
Slowly.
Widely.
A wooden mask shouldn't have been able to move.
And yet.
In the time it took to blink.
The komote mask, modeled after a young woman,
had transformed into an old-man mask etched with deep wrinkles.
Miroku's body tensed slightly.
What came out of the man's mouth next was a voice completely different from the one he'd had moments ago.
“Heh heh... It's been a long time, little girl.”
Dry.
A hoarse voice like an old man's.
The mask.
No mistake about it.
When Miroku had returned from being spirited away at the age of six, this was the mask he had supposedly been holding.
What it was.
Who had made it.
How long it had existed.
No one knew the details.
The one thing they did know.
Was that it seemed to be an unbelievably troublesome object.
If anyone other than Miroku put it on carelessly.
There was a very high chance.
That it would devour their mind.
Even after it was pulled off their face.
Only a tiny number of people.
Had ever returned to a normal state.
“Hey.”
Miroku stood.
He started toward the man.
The mask.
Laughed. “Ha ha ha!”
“Don't worry so much. You needn't concern yourself with this human.”
“Of course I should be concerned.”
“I merely borrowed his body for a little while. I shall not break it.”
“How do you expect me to trust you?”
“You're as suspicious as ever.”
The mask laughed cheerfully.
At least.
There was no obvious abnormality in the man's body.
His breathing.
His spirit veins.
Neither was disturbed.
Miroku didn't completely let down his guard, but he took one step back.
“More importantly, little girl.”
The old-man mask.
Grinned.
Even wider.
Bad feeling.
How many times was that today?
“After more than a thousand years, how do you feel about using us—”
A pause.
“—to crack peanuts?”
Shigure's expression froze.
Miyabi slowly looked at Miroku.
Himeuo wore an indescribable expression.
Only Yoshitsune was struggling not to laugh.
“...It was an accident.”
“You struck us three times.”
“Twice.”
“Three.”
“You're really hung up on the details.”
“And it wasn't the peanut that cracked. It was us.”
“That's why I apologized.”
“I haven't heard an apology yet.”
Miroku looked at the mask.
For several seconds.
Silence.
“...Sorry.”
“There's no feeling in it.”
“I'm sorry.”
“Don't look away.”
“You're awfully demanding.”
“Whose fault is that?”
Miroku resigned himself.
He faced the old-man mask head-on.
“My apologies. From now on, I'll try not to use you to crack peanuts.”
“Try?”
“I won't use you.”
“Very good.”
Apparently, it was satisfied.
Simple.
No.
It was hard to tell what its standards were.
Something this troublesome.
Cheering up over an apology like that.
Was that normal?
Or not normal?
Miroku had never really understood it.
The old man.
Once again.
Laughed. “Ha ha ha!”
“Be extremely careful in how you handle us.”
“I'll do my best.”
“Do so.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
At that moment.
The mask.
Peeled away from the man's face.
As if whatever had been clinging to him had suddenly lost its strength.
Plop.
It fell onto the tatami.
At the same time.
The man's body tilted.
“Whoa.”
Miroku caught him instinctively.
He was unconscious.
But.
His breathing was normal.
There was no obvious disturbance in his spirit veins, either.
For the moment.
He seemed all right.
“...So you really only borrowed his body?”
Miroku looked at the mask on the tatami.
Now.
It looked completely ordinary.
A white komote mask.
It was hard to believe it had been the old man just moments ago.
Miroku let out a deep sigh.
“Ugh... What a pain.”
The supernatural anomaly in the north building.
The Calming Tower.
The mysterious bones.
The underground of the Imperial Palace.
His second life.
Apparently.
It was turning out.
Far more troublesome than the first.