Chapter 12: Prophecy

The moment they stepped inside the torii gate, the surrounding air felt as though it had been filtered—suddenly becoming clear and pure.

The noise and chaos of the mundane world were quietly cut off by that invisible boundary. What remained by their ears was only the sound of wind passing through the forest, and the faint ringing of bells carried along with it.

Kyōko walked ahead, her red hakama swaying gently with each step.

She led Shinobu along the shrine path paved with white gravel, past the drifting incense smoke before the main hall, and toward a quieter area behind the shrine.

“At this hour, Grandma is usually in the tea room,” Kyōko said, glancing back slightly. “She had an appointment with a flower arrangement teacher today, to discuss the offerings for next month’s festival. They should be finishing up soon.”

Shinobu nodded, though his gaze continued to scan the surroundings.

Within this sacred domain, protected by a barrier, that persistent feeling of being watched—like a thorn at his back since he left home—had finally disappeared completely.

He let out a nearly inaudible breath, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

They didn’t go straight to the tea room.

Kyōko skillfully led him down a side corridor, slid open a door, and entered a small, elegant Japanese-style room.

The room was simply furnished but carried a sense of Zen. Several paper sliding doors were open, facing a small dry landscape garden.

A few gracefully shaped maple trees cast their shadows across carefully raked white sand.

By the window stood a small stone water basin. A bamboo shishi-odoshi would fill with water and then tip with a soft clack, pouring it into the basin over and over again. The crisp, rhythmic sound seemed to set the tempo for the stillness of the moment.

Kyōko knelt gracefully on the tatami, and Shinobu sat across from her.

For a moment, the only sound in the room was the steady tapping of bamboo.

After a brief silence, Shinobu raised his eyes.

“Kyōko,” his voice lower than usual, “something has been happening at my house recently.”

Kyōko looked up at him.

Shinobu described his observations as concisely and objectively as possible.

His father might have been replaced by an unknown entity. The most direct evidence—those “Mekago” that clearly acted under its command, shadowing him like watchers.

Kyōko listened quietly. Only after he finished did she speak.

“A wounded beast often becomes more vigilant, and guards its territory even more fiercely.”

Shinobu nodded silently—that was exactly the growing sense of oppression and control he had been feeling.

“Do you know about ‘possession’?” Kyōko asked.

“I do,” Shinobu replied. “It refers to spirits, ghosts, or yokai attaching themselves to a living person. In mild cases, it may only affect fortune or mood. In severe cases… it can completely suppress the host’s soul and control their actions.”

“Exactly,” Kyōko confirmed. “And something capable of commanding yokai like the Mekago as its eyes and ears… its level and power are probably extraordinary.”

She paused, as if hesitating whether to continue, but ultimately did.

“A few days ago, when Grandma was receiving a retired head priest, I was serving tea nearby. I overheard them mention that recently, the flow of ‘energy’ in Tokyo has been very unusual—as if something extremely powerful is about to appear.”

Shinobu’s heart sank slightly.

“Then… is there any way to drive it out?”

Kyōko slowly shook her head.

“Ordinary barriers or purification rituals are mainly effective against lower-level spirits or those filled with strong impurity and malice. For something powerful enough—and especially something that can conceal its true nature and aura… particularly when it is now perfectly inhabiting a human body—conventional methods may not even identify it accurately at first, let alone repel it effectively.”

“At most, it might feel some discomfort and avoid approaching places like this.”

After thinking for a moment, she added,
“Of course, if it dared to reveal its true form here, or display its real power within the shrine grounds, that would be different. The sacred domain would naturally retaliate. But I don’t think it would ever do that—it would be the same as exposing itself completely to the light.”

“So… we’re almost powerless?” Shinobu asked, somewhat discouraged.

Kyōko bit her lower lip lightly, clearly troubled as well. “A direct confrontation would be the worst option. It’s too dangerous—for you and your family.”

She thought for a moment. “Maybe… we can ask Grandma later. She’s experienced more than us—she might have a different perspective.”

Shinobu nodded.

For the time being, they set aside the heavy topic.

Kyōko stood up and poured Shinobu a cup of warm barley tea.

Setting aside her role as a shrine maiden, she was still just an ordinary teenage girl. When she started talking about a boy idol group she had recently become obsessed with, her eyes lit up immediately, her speech quickened, and her cheeks flushed slightly—completely different from the calm and mature girl who had just been discussing spirit possession.

Although Shinobu wasn’t into idols, he listened quietly and occasionally responded, which lightened the atmosphere in the room.

Fortunately, they didn’t have to wait long.

About half an hour later, they heard the sliding door of the adjacent tea room open, followed by Grandma’s gentle but clear voice seeing off her guest, along with the sound of footsteps.

“The guest has left,” Kyōko said as she stood. “Let’s go.”

When they entered the tea room, Grandma—Oda Rumiko—was already seated properly in the main position.

She was an elderly woman with graying hair neatly combed, a kind face, and clear, perceptive eyes.

When she saw Shinobu, she immediately smiled.

“Shinobu-kun, it’s been a while. You seem to have grown taller,” she said warmly, inviting them to sit.

Rather than asking questions right away, she spoke like an ordinary elder—asking about his recent life and studies, and even chatting about a new litter of rabbits at the shrine.

The atmosphere was natural and harmonious.

After catching up, Grandma still didn’t directly ask about his troubles.

Instead, she said gently,
“Since you came all this way today, let Grandma take a look at your ‘energy’ lately.”

She had Shinobu relax and sit still, then closed her eyes slightly, focusing her mind.

After a long moment, she opened her eyes and looked at him calmly.

“For now, although there are undercurrents lurking nearby, your own aura is still relatively stable. There are no immediate signs of bloodshed or disaster. Maintain the status quo, be cautious in words and actions, and in the near future, there should be no danger.”

Hearing this, Shinobu felt somewhat reassured.

Her conclusion confirmed his thoughts: as long as he—and his “clueless mother,” who had not yet noticed anything—did not expose the truth or draw too much attention from that “uninvited guest,” this seemingly calm yet eerie household might maintain its fragile balance for a while longer.

As for the long-term future…

“Come back again in a month,” Grandma said with a smile, as if seeing through his thoughts. “I’ll take another look for you then. The world flows like water—it’s always changing.”

Shinobu nodded solemnly.

Afterward, he enjoyed the sweet, soft red bean mochi soup Grandma had prepared, chatted a little more, and then took his leave.

Before he left the shrine, Kyōko gave him a personal protective charm.

After watching Shinobu’s figure disappear at the end of the shrine path, Kyōko turned to her grandmother, a slight frown on her face.

“Grandma, is this really okay? We suspect that thing might be extremely dangerous—why don’t we notify the relevant authorities?”

The gentle smile on Rumiko’s face faded slightly. She looked toward the distant city, her expression growing serious.

“That entity’s level of power likely exceeds our imagination. Acting rashly would only alert it. Even if it could eventually be eliminated, the process might trigger uncontrollable conflict and collateral damage, harming innocent civilians. That would not be wise.”

She paused, choosing her words carefully, before continuing slowly:

“Moreover… the flow of fate surrounding this matter may bring changes we do not yet expect.”

“Changes?” Kyōko asked, puzzled. “Because of Shinobu-kun?”

Rumiko slowly shook her head, withdrawing her gaze and looking at her granddaughter.

“No,” she said softly but firmly.
“The key variable… may not be Shinobu.”

“It may be… his mother.”