Chapter 74: The Appearance of Ibaraki-dōji
"Please... let it work this time."
"If it succeeds, Sister and the Imperial Family will still have a chance to escape her control. We won't have to keep living like puppets dangling from her fingers."
Sōma Takiko bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.
Her delicate hands moved through one seal after another, faster and faster, trying to activate the altar beneath her feet. The offering bound to the ritual was a strand of hair.
A red strand of hair.
Her own.
She was using part of herself as a medium for the secret art. The target was someone deeply connected to her—so deeply that, if that person still lived, they could only be her closest blood relative.
The altar lit up.
Talismans arranged around the ritual space peeled away from the surface one by one, transforming into streaks of pale fluorescent light. They circled Takiko like stars revolving around the moon, and her spiritual power surged with them.
"Vi... sa... va... vi... ya... sa... va..."
Difficult Sanskrit syllables spilled from her lips.
It was a mantra concerning the soul.
With the right altar and medium, it could awaken a sleeping consciousness.
But in Onmyodo, any technique involving the soul came with a price. Whether one called it an Onmyo Art, a mantra, or a forbidden rite, none of them reached into that domain cheaply. The Taizan Fukun Rite was only the most infamous example.
The soul-awakening mantra Takiko was performing now would shave away her own lifespan.
And because she was using a part of herself as the medium, the cost would be even greater.
She no longer cared.
What rested on her shoulders was not merely her own life, but the fate of the entire Imperial Family. No matter how steep the price was, she had to pay it.
Otherwise, the imperial line that had continued across countless generations might truly end here.
Right now, supernatural incidents were breaking out across Japan.
Some were as minor as evil spirits attacking civilians.
Others were as catastrophic as Yamata no Orochi awakening at Mount Fuji.
But how many people knew that from the very beginning of the Supernatural Revival, the Imperial Family had already been targeted by one of Japan's most terrifying Great Yokai?
No.
Targeted was too mild a word.
The Imperial Family had been seized.
Right under the noses of the Omnyo Agency and the Onmyo Academy, a supernatural disaster second only to the calamity at Mount Fuji had been quietly brewing.
Takiko had thought about reporting it.
To the Omnyo Agency.
To the Onmyo Alliance.
To anyone who might be able to help.
But a restriction had been placed on her. She could not speak of it. Even her current survival was the result of her sister threatening that being with her own life and forcing a compromise. Without that, Takiko would have died long ago.
"What a disobedient little wildcat."
A voice rang through the underground chamber.
It was clear and sweet, like a lark's song, yet carried a charm so alluring it sent a chill through the bones. The tone was almost indulgent, like someone lightly scolding a child who refused to behave.
Takiko's expression changed.
Her hands moved faster. The Sanskrit syllables grew quicker as well. In her haste, tiny flaws slipped into the pronunciation—subtle, almost imperceptible, but fatal in a ritual of this precision.
"Your sister Haruka's resistance and threats are not permission for you to defy me again and again."
The mysterious woman appeared inside the chamber.
Her blurred face turned toward Takiko and the working altar beneath her feet. Those charming eyes swept over the ritual array with faint amusement.
Then she raised one slender hand and pressed it down.
Pfft!
Takiko suffered an immediate backlash.
Blood surged up her throat and spilled from her lips. The altar beneath her feet groaned under an invisible force. Its light dimmed, then began to rot away, as though years—decades—centuries were washing over it in a single breath.
The talismans decayed and shattered.
Cracks split across the altar.
The stone formation broke apart inch by inch until the entire structure collapsed into rubble.
Only then did the dreadful pressure stop.
"Takiko," the mysterious woman said softly, "do not forget. The only reason the Imperial Family is still allowed to survive in the Palace is because you remain useful to me."
Her voice was gentle.
That made it worse.
"I can protect your Imperial Family. I can let you pass safely through this Supernatural Revival, just as I did a thousand years ago."
"Useful? Protect?"
Takiko laughed.
The sound was hoarse and bitter.
At first, she had feared the woman before her. Of course she had. Anyone would. But after disobeying her again and again, that fear had dulled into something sharper.
Hatred.
And beneath that hatred was sorrow.
Sorrow for the person whose body the yokai had taken.
Her elder sister, Haruka.
"What's so funny?" the mysterious woman asked.
"Isn't it funny?"
Takiko wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth and forced herself to meet that hidden gaze.
"This kind of survival is no different from being your pet. I don't need it. The Imperial Family doesn't need it. Even if we have to face the Supernatural Revival, we will suppress it ourselves—just like the Heian period a thousand years ago."
Clap.
Clap.
Clap.
The mysterious woman applauded softly.
"How generous. How resolute."
Mockery glimmered in her eyes.
"But Takiko, your generosity and resolve represent nothing. They do not represent the Imperial Family. They do not even represent yourself."
Her voice turned cruel without losing its elegance.
"Have you forgotten? Your sister, Imperial Princess Haruka, was offered to me by your father, the Emperor, and by the elders of the Imperial Family."
Takiko's face tightened.
"You included," the woman continued. "All of you are vessels I may choose at will."
She took one unhurried step closer.
"And another thing. It was not your Imperial Family that suppressed the Supernatural Revival a thousand years ago. You were merely insignificant supporting characters in that war."
Takiko fell silent.
Pain thickened in her eyes.
Pain for her own fate.
Pain for Haruka's.
Pain for the Imperial Family's decision to sacrifice both sisters to the Great Yokai standing before her.
If Haruka had not stepped forward first, then Takiko herself—with both Sōma blood and Imperial blood running through her veins—would have been the better vessel.
"So, little wildcat," the mysterious woman said, "your resistance is a joke in my eyes."
Takiko's body trembled.
"No one is waiting for your success except you. Not your parents. Not your clansmen. Not even your sister."
The words struck harder than any spell.
"Meaningless. All of it."
Takiko's fingers clenched until her nails dug into her palms.
"Sleep now," the woman whispered. "When you wake up again, you won't be troubled by so many useless worries."
She reached toward Takiko's forehead.
Takiko went pale.
She knew what that touch meant.
If she allowed it, then the next time she opened her eyes, she would no longer be herself. She would become like those hardliners in the Imperial Family who had preferred death over submission—stripped of memory, stripped of personality, turned into obedient puppets who existed only to follow the woman's commands.
Takiko tried to dodge.
Tried to resist.
Tried to move even a finger.
The space around her had been locked.
Her body would not obey.
All she could do was watch in despair as that hand drew closer and closer.
"Erase."
The mysterious woman spoke the word quietly.
A special power gathered around her fingertips.
It was not demonic power.
It was not the Yin energy carried by Yokai.
It was not the spiritual power of an onmyoji.
It resembled divine power in some ways, but was not that either. It was something older, stranger, and more difficult to define.
If Gin Tsumugi had been there, he would have recognized it immediately.
It was the same aura that lingered on the two ancient hairpins.
The moment that power touched her, memories began to disappear from Takiko's mind.
Not all at once.
One thread at a time.
A childhood scene.
Haruka's smile.
Her first lesson in Onmyodo.
The smell of old paper in the Sōma archives.
Her own name.
Takiko fought desperately to hold on.
The harder she resisted, the faster the memories began to crumble.
Soon, she would be nothing but an empty doll.
A thing without past or future, moved by invisible strings.
Just as despair began to swallow her—
The power on the mysterious woman's hand twisted.
The light became unstable, scattering into chaotic fragments. The force pinning Takiko in place vanished with it.
"No... let her go!"
A different voice came from the mysterious woman's mouth.
It was ethereal, full of anger and pain.
"You promised me you wouldn't touch my Takiko. You promised!"
Takiko's whole body shook.
"Sister!"
There was no mistake.
That was Haruka's voice.
"Haruka," the mysterious woman said, her expression shifting, "don't resist."
She suppressed the consciousness awakening within her body.
A few breaths later, her face returned to calm.
"As expected, I cannot leave you alone."
Her gaze returned to Takiko.
"Even if it means paying the price of Haruka's desperate resistance, I will do it."
Haruka's sudden awakening had been caused by Takiko's soul technique. The ritual had worked just enough to interfere with the woman's replacement of Haruka's consciousness, pushing back the time she needed to fully take over.
That was not good news.
Especially not now.
Not when he was already watching from outside the board.
The mysterious woman stopped speaking.
Power surged from her body, and a terrifying pressure swept through the chamber. The entire underground room began to tremble, as though even stone could not bear her weight.
Takiko was pinned down again, unable to move.
Then another change occurred.
Bang!
A serious middle-aged man in a suit appeared inside the underground chamber.
One of his arms was missing.
Yet he stood in front of Takiko without the slightest fear, directly facing the mysterious woman's pressure.
"It's you."
The mysterious woman frowned.
His appearance was clearly outside her expectations.
The one-armed man wasted no time.
He threw a punch.
Demonic power and terrifying physical strength gathered in that single strike, fierce enough to shatter a hill.
Boom!
The mysterious woman lifted her hand.
With a casual motion, she neutralized the attack.
Even so, the shockwave tore through the underground chamber. Cracks ripped across the walls and ceiling. Dust exploded outward. The entire space began to collapse.
"Go."
The one-armed man did not explain.
He followed with another blow, forcing the mysterious woman back several steps, then seized Takiko and carried her out of the collapsing chamber.
Boom!
The underground space gave way.
The building above lost its foundation and began collapsing as well, burying the mysterious woman beneath broken stone, shattered wood, and clouds of dust.
For a while, there was only silence.
Then an invisible force rose from beneath the ruins.
Rubble and broken bricks floated upward one by one, shifting aside as if moved by unseen hands. A large crater opened at the center.
The mysterious woman stood there.
Her expression was unreadable.
Her elegant gold-and-red kimono remained spotless, untouched by even a speck of dust. Some invisible field surrounded her, isolating her from all filth.
"Ibaraki-dōji," she murmured.
"So you've joined hands with it."
After a brief moment of thought, she roughly pieced together what had happened.
"The descendant of that legendary onmyoji from half a century ago... Tsuchimikado Yakou."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"He is indeed the seed of a Great Onmyoji. Unfortunately, not all Great Onmyoji can reach his height."
Her gaze turned distant.
"To think they intend to use him against me. I am being underestimated."
Even knowing she might one day face the combined force of Ibaraki-dōji and Tsuchimikado Yakou, she showed no fear.
From beginning to end, there was only one person who could make her tremble.
Only one person who could make her afraid.
Not even Yamata no Orochi qualified.
"I'll return the body to you for a while, Haruka," she said softly. "I hope you don't do anything foolish."
The soul technique Takiko had performed had taken effect.
Haruka's consciousness was awakening more frequently now, and the attack on Takiko had triggered an unusually fierce resistance. If the woman continued forcing her down, Haruka might choose mutual destruction.
Better to release her for now.
Better to soothe her.
The mysterious power covering the woman's face gradually faded.
Her features became clear.
First came a pair of dark, luminous eyes.
Gentle, intelligent, and clear.
Then graceful brows. A delicate nose. Snow-white skin. A quiet, elegant, peerless face so tender it seemed almost unreal, like an immortal maiden stepped out of an old painted scroll.
She was the Imperial Princess Haruka.
Her palace title was Shizumi.
Her full name was Haruka Shizumiya, Imperial Princess Shizumi.
At that moment, however, the princess had no trace of imperial composure.
She looked in the direction Takiko had fled, her expression filled with worry and heartache.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Your sister failed to protect you."
Takiko had been fostered by the Sōma family since childhood, growing distant from the Imperial Family because of it. Even so, she had still been dragged into this vortex.
Haruka herself had already prepared to sacrifice everything for the Imperial Family.
That was her fate.
Her responsibility as an Imperial Princess.
But when Takiko became involved, her resolve wavered.
"Gin Tsumugi..."
The name surfaced in her mind.
"Yes. Him."
During the time her will had been suppressed, Haruka had not been completely unaware of the outside world. At the very least, she knew of incidents that "she" considered trivial—such as the Wedding Dress Tree.
And during that period, the name Gin Tsumugi had appeared again and again.
Haruka knew of him.
White Fox Gin Tsumugi.
A rare genius of Onmyodo.
At first, she had only paid slight attention to him because "she" cared about his existence.
But recently, something had changed.
Whenever his name came up, the emotions inside "her" became unstable.
Resentment.
Hatred.
And more than either of those—
Fear.
A fear rooted deep in the bones.
At first, Haruka had thought it was an illusion. But as time passed, it became clearer and clearer.
Because of that fear, even though "she" hated him, she did not dare act against him. That fear had twisted into resentment.
"He may be the one who can break this deadlock."
Haruka, who had almost given up, felt her thoughts begin to move again.
She walked quickly through the Palace grounds.
Less than two hundred meters away stood a storage building made with wooden posts and painted in black-and-white waterproof coating. Its modern athletic style looked distinctly out of place amid the historical elegance of the Imperial Palace.
Haruka opened the door.
Inside were neatly arranged sports tools—baseball bats, basketballs, and other equipment. She went to a corner and pulled out a mobile phone connected to a charging cable.
She turned it on.
Her pale fingers moved quickly across the screen.
Soon, she opened a chat group named:
[Supernatural Exchange Group]
Then she typed.
[To all members: Does anyone have detailed information on Gin Tsumugi? The more detailed, the better.]
…..
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I Became the Alien God in Tokyo