"No, I have not," Yorimitsu responded, ducking his head as he crawled into the low opening of the hut.
Inside, the air was dull and grey. Though the space was scrubbed clean, the furniture was sparse and primitive; every stool and table looked as if it had been hacked from driftwood by hand. The only splash of colour was a small shrine nestled next to the door. It was draped in vibrant purple cloths, centred around a polished pearl statue. Three incense sticks burned before it, their white smoke coiling upward in thin, ghostly ribbons.
"I see," the elder murmured. He gestured for them to sit on the patched cushions scattered across the tatami. The group filed in, their presence nearly swallowing the small room.
On the low tea table sat a plate of stale Wagashi. The sweets were cracked and pale, looking as if they had sat untouched for years, a silent offering to a god who no longer listened.
The elder lowered himself into the Seiza position with a grace that defied his creaking joints.
"In the sacred whisperings of the Kojiki, Inari Ōkami stands as the luminous guardian of prosperity, the one who weaves the hidden threads of life, binding heaven, earth, and the mortal realm," the elder began to recite. As the ancient words left his lips, a dull but vibrant white light began to emanate from his skin, bathing the dim hut in a soft glow.
"Ha?! What is this?" Yorimitsu's mouth gaped. He could feel the Reiryoku in the room shifting, vibrating in harmony with the old man's voice.
"These Kitsune, with eyes that glimmer like starlight, convey the offerings of the devotees, carrying prayers upon their ethereal backs... but..."
The old man's voice faltered. Suddenly, the white light snapped out of existence. It was replaced by a suffocating, dark shroud that seemed to leak from the floorboards. The elder's body began to shake violently, his breath hitching in his chest.
"Good job, Shion," Yorimitsu said, walking toward the elder. Shion's hand was already clamped firmly over the man's mouth, cutting off the recitation. The suffocating dark aura began to subside, and the elder's body went limp, collapsing onto the tatami.
"What the hell was that?" Watanabe asked, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his blade as he stood up.
"Mmmmm. It is one thing after the other in this place." Yorimitsu's foot began to tap the ground in a rhythmic, restless pace. "I am not entirely sure yet, but it looks like this whole region is under some massive curse. It feels... similar to the one you carry, Watanabe, well, honestly, I don't know if I should even call it a curse."
Yorimitsu turned his gaze toward his companion.
"Ha? Really?" Watanabe's face went pale.
"Yeah. But this... the scale of it is just incredible."
Boom!
In a blur of speed, Yorimitsu appeared next to the altar. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the last shimmering glow of the pearl statue before it dimmed into a dull, lifeless grey. "Mmmmm. Yeah, this is bad. Whatever is harvesting their life energy is doing a great harm to them."
"Taisho, what are you talking about?" Gabimaru asked, his voice tight with a mix of confusion and horror.
"This whole land is a farm," Yorimitsu said, his voice dropping into a cold and intense tone. "These people are being raised as cattle for whatever Kami they think they are worshipping. Every time they pray, a piece of their life is ripped away from them."
"MMmmmmm... ohoho..." The elder's eyes fluttered open, the dark fog finally clearing from his mind.
Yorimitsu stood over him, his expression unreadable. "Elder... how old are you?"
The question resonated through the small room, hanging heavy in the silence.
"Mmmm. So you figured it out. I thought I'd have to lose a few more years before you caught on," the elder coughed, a ragged, hacking sound that shook his thin frame before he regained his composure.
"I am thirty years old."
"Ha?!!!!"
The group's voices erupted in unison.
"No... no, that's not possible," Gabimaru gasped, squatting in front of the man to get a closer look.
The "elder" had long, brittle grey hair. His hands were so thin that his veins moved beneath the skin like restless river serpents. His eyes were milky with cataracts, and half of his teeth were gone. He looked ninety, not thirty.
"So you know exactly what is happening with your god," Watanabe's voice resonated from the back of the room, sharp and accusatory. "Then why keep doing it? Why pray?"
"AHHHHHhh," the man exhaled, a long, weary sound.
"That is the question, isn't it? You know, there is no life without sacrifice. Everyone makes them, whether they are aware of it or not. But only the least privileged feel the weight of that effort." He looked at his withered hands. "We sacrificed our years to keep the damned Yokai in these mountains at bay. We used to be attacked every week, until we started the prayers. Then, the Yokai stopped. The crops grew luscious and green. It was a fair trade... until the people started missing. Once those men from the Capital entered the sanctuary, everything changed."
'Who are these men, and what is their end goal?' Yorimitsu sighed, the weight of the conspiracy pressing on him. 'What is the connection between the Capital's interference and the missing villagers?'
When he turned his gaze toward Ichiyoshi, a small, subtle smile touched his lips. 'To think I managed to get someone like him on my side. Though I still have my doubts.'
Yorimitsu walked toward the boy and took his hand, his touch firm but careful.
"Ha?!" Ichiyoshi flinched, his eyes widening.
"Don't worry. I just want to see if the medicine I gave you earlier is holding," Yorimitsu reassured him.
"Oh... okay." The boy relaxed, allowing the inspection without further fuss.
As Yorimitsu checked the boy's Reiiki vein, he felt a strange, rhythmic vibration beneath the skin. 'It seems my suspicions were correct. This boy has a subtle connection with whatever spirit they are worshipping in this land; it is not the divine body, though it seems.'
"Taisho, it still makes no sense," Gabimaru's voice cut through Yorimitsu's internal thoughts. "Why the hell would anyone worship a Yokai to begin with? Isn't that like inviting a wolf into the sheepfold?"
"Well, remember, Gabimaru," Yorimitsu replied, looking back at the group. "The spirits we fight aren't always inherently evil. They are often neutral, primordial forces of nature. I have seen them in the deep mountains; they only become malevolent when human desire begins to corrupt them."
"HhhhhmmmpT"