Sū ěr tossed two coins into the offering box. Hearing the crisp clink against their predecessors, he pulled the rope; the bell rang out clearly.
Come to think of it, the money in this box is an offering to the Twin-Soul Deity... but the deity is me. Doesn't that mean taking this money is just a withdrawal?
While his mind wandered, he and Jibril followed the ritual they'd seen others do: bow twice, clap twice, and bow once more.
The feeling of worshipping oneself was truly absurd.
Leading Jibril away from the queue to make room, they headed toward an area closed to tourists—an area where humans were strictly forbidden.
Tourists could only see the Haiden [Worship Hall], but the most important parts—the Shintai [Divine Body], the offerings, and the Go-hei—were in the Honden [Main Hall]. This was the most sacred part of a shrine, where believers believed the deity resided.
Of course, "Forbidden" didn't apply to people like Sū ěr.
He and Jibril stood inside the Main Hall, scrutinizing the statue that had been worshipped by humans for centuries as him and Think.
It wasn't as exquisite as Sū ěr had imagined, but the antiquity was evident. It was likely the pinnacle of human craftsmanship for its time, and the years had given it a dignified, antique patina.
The statue depicted a man sitting on a chair. Behind him, a female figure hooked her arms around his neck, her hands hanging over his chest, her long hair spilling over his shoulders. She had no distinct lower body; when Sū ěr walked behind, he saw her torso merging into the man's back.
Frankly, it didn't look like them. Not the faces, anyway. Neither the male nor female face bore any resemblance to Sū ěr or Think. If Nurarihyon hadn't explicitly said this shrine grew out of Yukari Yakumo's "Chronicles of Great Yōkai," Sū ěr never would have connected this "two-as-one" statue to himself.
However, what caught the trio's attention was a smaller statue beside the main one. Likely intended to emphasize the deity's grandeur, this small statue only reached the seated deity's knee. The face was generic, but what immediately drew their eyes was the pair of wings on its back.
Female. Small wings. The ancient craftsmen had even used a thin wire to support a tiny ring above its head.
With those traits, who could it be but Jibril? Yet, compared to Sū ěr and Think in the center, Jibril statue looked like a lowly maid serving a great god.
"Pfft... isn't this well-made?" In the privacy of the Main Hall, Think manifested fully. She flew to the tiny Jibril statue, poking its cheek and pinching the ring above its head.
Think was in a great mood. Jibril, on the other hand—who had only smiled mockingly when Think kissed Sū ěr—now looked like her face had been dragged through soot. What is wrong with these humans?!
"...Her name is Yukari Yakumo, right?" Jibril asked through gritted teeth. Sū ěr saw her fist clench.
She didn't blame the short-lived humans. Queen Jibril immediately identified the source of the problem: the gap-demon who had spread these fabricated legends centuries ago.
She's dead meat!
Somewhere, a certain blonde yōkai let out two uncontrollable sneezes.
"Ahaha... so, anything weird here?" Sū ěr shifted his attention to the rest of the shrine.
"No Onmyōji, no yōkai. This is just a tourist attraction," Think concluded. "Not a trace of a barrier or energy."
It was strange. Sū ěr had expected some yōkai to be living here in seclusion, or at least some Onmyōji, given how famous it was. But there was nothing.
Their trip to Nara wasn't just for tourism—though it was 90% that—but also to verify Nurarihyon's claim that past yōkai were manifesting.
Nurarihyon was right. There were indeed yōkai appearing with power far exceeding those who had integrated into human society over the centuries. What struck Sū ěr was that they didn't use "Fear."
"Fear" was a system created by Nurarihyon to quickly boost his strength against the established yōkai of his youth. It had become a standard technique for modern yōkai who had weakened while hiding among humans.
But these new arrivals didn't know the technique—or perhaps they knew but disdained it. They relied on their physical bodies and raw demonic power.
They weren't in the cities yet, but in the "Suicide Forest" [Aokigahara] at the foot of Mt. Fuji—another place famous across Japan—these yōkai were popping up like weeds.
Before they die, suicides often feel a lingering attachment to life, or their desire to die stems from trauma, failure, or bullying. Their resentment twists their souls and bodies into different yōkai—or rather, something closer to "demons."
Even the wild animals in those desolate areas were being affected, becoming more bloodthirsty and wild, developing their own demonic aura. They were becoming "primeval yōkai."
To prevent these creatures from rampaging into nearby villages or cities, Sū ěr stayed there for a while, ensuring the presence of yōkai wasn't exposed to the public before he moved on to Nara.