Everyone, unless they are a saint, possesses some degree of selfishness.
The Patriarch of the Busujima family was one such person. So was Rom.
As they sped towards the ward border from their respective locations, both of their vehicles passed the sheared-off "top" of the armored SUV discarded by the roadside. But neither of them showed any intention of stopping or backing down. Instead, they urged their drivers on even more urgently.
On the way, they even passed the mangled corpses of the elite guards the Busujima Patriarch had sent to secretly protect Saeko. Even those gruesome sights couldn't stop them. The deaths were horrific; they clearly hadn't been slaughtered by humans or firearms, but torn apart by some impossibly vicious, otherworldly ghost.
'Come on... my life is worthless... You want it? Then take it!' Rom thought, his eyes bloodshot as he gripped his prayer beads. 'Just let me go back to her teachings. Just let me go back!'
Rom couldn't tell if he was finally going mad. But he definitely felt as if he had been bewitched. It was inevitable. Wasn't the core reason he and Granny Mitsue parted ways because of their differing ideologies regarding the existence of the supernatural? Neither of them could convince the other back then. But now it seemed that he had simply been blinded by secular self-interest. He hadn't been able to see the profound truth behind Granny Mitsue's patient teachings.
He had betrayed her trust... Once upon a time, she was someone who considered him her personal, chosen disciple.
Screech—!
Finally, they arrived. Rom and the Patriarch of the Busujima family arrived at the ward boundary one after the other. After exchanging a tense, acknowledging glance, they got out of their cars and looked silently into the distance.
There was the municipal border of Suginami Ward, marked by a simple plaque—or, to those with the sight, a towering red Torii gate. Saeko Busujima and the others were standing safely just beyond it.
Overjoyed, the Busujima Patriarch was about to rush over to his daughter when...
Boom!
An explosion of spiritual pressure. Their consciousness practically exploded.
Buzz—!!!
They awoke to a new reality. Murasame had fully awakened.
Their physical visions flickered as if they had stepped into a grand hallucination. The unbelievable, overwhelming scene before them left everyone utterly speechless.
Samurai! Samurai spirits!
No. They should be called samurai remnants!
Countless samurai remnants, clad in ancient, bloodstained armor and wielding longswords, materialized along the street. Saeko Busujima instinctively raised Murasame high. The mystical aura of the flowing water swirling around her blade seemed to act as an anchor, physically connecting all the wandering remnants.
The Patriarch of the Busujima family stared blankly at the towering, leading samurai remnant standing in the distance. Its imposing appearance and scarred armor were exactly the same as the charcoal portrait of his ancestor in the family chronicle.
On both sides of the modern street, spectral samurai stood in neat, disciplined rows, stretching almost as far as the eye could see. They were brave; they were extraordinary. Among them were familiar faces from the family archives and entirely unfamiliar ones. But the Patriarch could firmly confirm one thing: these were mostly his direct ancestors and their loyal retainers.
'Ancestors…' His heart trembled violently, and his eyes reddened with unshed tears. 'What happened to my Busujima family in the past? Why did so many of our ancestors die in battle against the dark?'
Suddenly, in perfect unison, his ancestors simultaneously drew their spectral swords. With a fluid motion, they dragged the sharp blades across their own palms. They knelt heavily on the asphalt, holding their bleeding hands and swords high above their heads in absolute submission to the domain.
"We swear to follow Lord Minazuki to the death!" the leading ancestor roared.
"We swear to follow Lord Minazuki to the death!!!" the spectral army echoed.
"We swear to follow Lord Minazuki to the death!!!"
With a heavy thud, the Busujima Patriarch also dropped to the ground. He knelt on both knees. The sudden inability to find his own sword made him incredibly anxious. He didn't fully understand what his ancestors were doing or the entity they were pledging to. But whatever his legendary ancestors did, he, as their descendant, would follow suit!
So, with a fiercely determined heart, he pulled out a tactical dagger from his belt, slashed his own palm without hesitation, and raised his bleeding hand high above his head.
"I, the 312th head of the Busujima family! I swear to follow Lord Minazuki to the death!!"
Hearing her father's booming, familiar voice from across the boundary, Saeko Busujima also made up her mind. She gripped Murasame tightly, letting the blade bite into her skin.
"I, the 313th prospective head of the Busujima family! I swear to follow Lord Minazuki to the death!!"
In an instant, it was as if the world had changed color. Or rather, their consciousness had been directly pulled into a Divine Domain completely different from reality.
Here, birds sang cheerfully, and the crisp fragrance of spring filled the air. Here, delicate cherry blossoms fell like snow. A few black crows flew by overhead, and the soft, comforting whispers of nature spirits swayed in the vibrant grass and trees. It was exactly like a dream, or perhaps a utopian fantasy world that only existed in ancient illusions.
A mysterious figure with an overwhelming, suffocating divine presence sat opposite them. He lounged casually under the largest cherry tree, gently raising an elegant sake cup. He acted very kindly. It was as if he were raising the cup in a polite invitation, or nodding in silent acceptance of their fealty.
But how could a God who could effortlessly conjure up a mysterious, perfect world in the blink of an eye be as mortal and approachable as he appeared?
At this moment, the heart of the Busujima Patriarch trembled in absolute awe. He finally understood. He understood exactly what his ancestor was doing.
His ancestor was long dead, and what remained was merely a fragmented remnant soul clinging to Murasame. They couldn't protect the Busujima family from the shadows forever, and neither could he, as a mere mortal swordsman. The only permanent solution to survive the horrors they had just witnessed was to find a truly powerful, divine backer for the Busujima clan—an incredibly strong, ultimate ally.
Without a doubt, this "Lord Minazuki" was the very backer, the supreme sovereign, that his samurai ancestor had sought.
'I swear to follow Lord Minazuki to the death!!'
Following the will of his ancestor, the Patriarch shouted loudly again, not caring even if his rough voice cracked. His heart was pounding like a war drum. He felt the hot blood surging fiercely through his body. Performing the exact same prostration ritual as the ghost of his forefather, he was fiercely determined to restore everything the Busujima family had once possessed in the ancient era!
At the same time, Rom, who was beside him, also collapsed to his knees. He knelt down in a daze, as if the bones in his legs had completely vanished.
He saw it. He finally saw it…
'Teacher… Is this the true world through your eyes…?' Rom thought, tears streaming down his face. 'How beautiful… How magnificent…'
He wept silently, opening his mouth to speak, but his throat tightened painfully, and he couldn't utter a single coherent word. He could only wail silently, his voice hoarse.
The more he finally understood about the truth of the world, the more he violently hated his former, cynical self. He hated it so much. He hated his arrogance, he hated his foolishness, he hated his greed. It was as if he had personally abandoned paradise for a few cheap coins, and now he desperately wanted to take it all back.
But it was clear. The transcendent realm would not change its rules simply because of his mortal regret.
Under the cherry tree, the figure seemed to nod again. The meaning of his casual acceptance was all too clear. He agreed to the Busujima family's allegiance…
Then, that breathtaking world vanished like a popped bubble.
The cold twilight of reality descended upon the Tokyo street once more. The massive army of samurai remnant souls gradually dissolved, turning into glowing, golden fireflies that scattered into the night sky.
The Patriarch of the Busujima family's legs were weak, and he couldn't get up even after several trembling attempts. He could only bow respectfully to the empty air where his ancestor had stood, his face flushed with adrenaline. He was filled with a profound mixture of joy and sorrow.
Joy that the Busujima family had successfully paid homage to such an extraordinary, divine being. Sorrow that his legendary ancestor seemed to have spent centuries worrying about his unworthy descendants even in death.
'I was unworthy. I was so incredibly unworthy…'
He pounded his chest, tears finally spilling from his eyes. Finally, all his overwhelming emotions coalesced into one booming, reverent sentence.
"Farewell, Ancestor!!"
At the same time, Rom—who had been feeling terrible, his face ashen as he contemplated suicide just minutes prior—suddenly transitioned to a state of ecstatic, disbelieving joy.
It was a sigh. A very familiar, ethereal sigh echoing right next to his ear.
The kindness, the exasperation, and the deep compassion within it belonged entirely to Granny Mitsue.
At this moment, Rom finally burst into ugly, racking sobs, crying exactly like a lost child who had been away from home for many harsh years and was finally, miraculously returning.
"Teacher! Teacher!"
Overjoyed, he hurriedly scrambled up, bowed deeply and respectfully towards the Suginami Ward boundary, and then turned and ran back toward his cab in a frantic flurry.
'It's time to go home...' he thought, clutching his prayer beads to his chest. 'I can finally go home now!'
Even though Granny Mitsue hadn't explicitly spoken the words to forgive his departure, he knew her soft heart all too well. He couldn't help but wipe his running nose, a pang of bittersweet sadness hitting him.
Sure enough. The teacher was still the same strict, loving teacher. She seemed never to have changed her feelings toward him.
'Was this the cultivation the teacher had always spoken of...?'
Cultivation requires cultivating the heart first. Once the heart is properly cultivated and humbled, one will follow the true path forever. Unfortunately, he had once arrogantly abandoned that path with his own two hands.
But not anymore. Because today, he had finally rediscovered the true world.
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