Chapter 180: The Curse of Ksitigarbha Bodhisattva (7)

The instructor was left speechless at the monk's firm words.

He looked at the monk as if dumbfounded, and felt a surge of desire to snap back immediately, asking if he could take responsibility for those words. But instead of voicing his inner thoughts, he swallowed them down and just sighed heavily as if there was nothing he could do.

Right... The government is blocking foreign sorcerers at the national level...

His honest feeling was that he wanted to say there's no such thing as "absolute."

What was the reason for rats and pests swarming in bunkers where even air was strictly controlled, rats roaming in sealed ships eating human flesh, and seemingly impregnable fortresses falling?

Wasn't it because no matter how solid something appeared, there were gaps within, and somehow things could squeeze through?

The instructor didn't know much about sorcery or onmyodo.

But if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that there are no absolutes in human affairs.

Humans are creatures that inevitably make mistakes somewhere.

However, society wasn't so lenient as to allow one to speak their mind freely.

It's a government operation. If I say there's a problem when there's no incident, I'll be labeled as anti-government, un-Japanese... Even if there is a problem, I'd be criticized for opening the lid and spreading the smell when it could have just been covered up.

There was a saying in Japan:

Put a lid on smelly things.

It meant that instead of stirring up or making a fuss about cleaning something that stinks, just quietly put a lid on it and act as if it never existed.

To prevent bad things or scandals from leaking out.

To avoid damaging face by spreading unfavorable matters.

Moreover, there was also the concept of meiwaku (迷惑).

It was a uniquely Japanese culture that extremely disliked causing trouble to others.

It might sound good at first glance, but...

What mattered was the limit and standard of this "trouble."

Causing a disturbance with bad deeds?

Of course, that was trouble.

Getting involved in unfavorable matters and causing a disturbance?

This too, of course, was trouble.

Causing a disturbance from the victim's standpoint?

Surprisingly, this was also trouble.

Reporting corruption and creating a social issue was trouble, confronting superiors at the risk of insubordination to expose wrongful practices or crimes everywhere was trouble, and leading protests for people working in miserable conditions was also trouble.

It could be said that this was a side effect of not having clear standards for what constitutes "trouble."

Because one could claim it was trouble by saying, "You made me uncomfortable."

And naturally, if one caused such "trouble," they became a target of ostracism.

Lightly, they might be targeted by members within a group, and severely, they might become the target of murahachibu, a village-wide collective ostracism.

No. It would be fortunate if it stopped there.

Because one could just leave for another region and be done with it.

You must never object to government affairs.

The government was the country.

The government was everything.

The subjects of Japan should be ready to sacrifice their lives for the great country and be prepared to repay the grace bestowed by the country at any time. That was the correct image and exemplary form of a "patriot" in Japan.

But instead of repaying the grace bestowed by the country, to point a sword at it?

What would it be for someone who should rise for the country to point a sword at it instead?

It was treason, treason!

In modern times, speaking out against the government isn't considered treason, but...

At the very least, I'd be labeled as anti-establishment, anti-government, or un-Japanese...

If that happened, that person's life was over.

The government would never forget grudges, and would interfere with every matter and prevent one from living a peaceful life. And countless people who blindly believed what the government propagated would freely hurl insults and throw filth at the "sandbag that can be stoned without worry."

Therefore, all the instructor could say was:

"I see. How could there be a problem with something the government is doing? It seems I misspoke out of excitement."

"I see. Ho ho ho."

"I watched a movie with foreign sorcerers on TV recently, and it left such a strong impression that I momentarily forgot it's impossible in reality."

This was all he could say.

"It seems the prank is so bizarre and eerie that it loses touch with reality. Ho ho ho. Even I thought for a moment I had come to a movie set when I saw this scene. Since sorcery is both bizarre and capable of all sorts of things, such misconceptions can happen."

Fortunately, the monk let the instructor's words slide.

It could be because he believed the instructor's words, or he didn't believe them but thought it wasn't worth picking at, or perhaps he thought it didn't matter either way.

"But instructor. There's something many people misunderstand."

Perhaps he saw the instructor's ignorance about sorcery as a good opportunity to show off his sorcerous knowledge.

"On TV, sorcery is always shown as amazing. Foreseeing the future with astrology, turning bad harvests into good ones with grand sorcery rituals, changing the course of rivers, turning deserts into lands where trees grow... Ho ho ho. It might seem quite impressive to those ignorant about sorcery."

The monk taught the martial artist as if teaching a child who knows nothing.

"But even that requires sufficient preparation. Vast amounts of sacrifices, grand sorcerers or numerous sorcerers, and the incredibly enormous price that inevitably accompanies the ritual. It means all of that must be paid as a price to perform such feats."

The monk glanced at the trees stamped with Ksitigarbha faces.

"Moreover. Sorcery is also handled by people."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Naturally, it develops primarily for things people need. Making crops grow well to avoid starvation, warding off diseases and healing bodies because people fear getting sick, enabling fighting or fleeing to survive against evil thieves... It develops in such forms."

The monk slightly raised the corners of his mouth.

It was clearly a sneer.

"Of course, all the sorcery and onmyodo throughout Japan developed in such ways. But... Hahaha! Mere mold, what use could that have?"

"Hmm."

"What use could there be for sorcery that can control mold to draw pictures? Well, it might be somewhat useful if you're going to make a mushroom farm. Ho ho ho, no. It doesn't seem to be mold that's beneficial to humans at all... If this is really sorcery, it's clearly useless, trash-like sorcery!"

Thud.

The monk kicked a fallen piece of wood, hitting the Ksitigarbha face he was looking at.

"Causing disease with mold? If you're going to do that, just curse them. Scaring people with mold? How many people would be scared by such a thing? And even if they are scared, how long would that fear last?"

"I see."

"So this can't be sorcery. Not only do I not know of it, but it's also useless, and only capable of scaring people... Oh my. The more I talk about it, the more firm this humble monk's belief becomes that it's not sorcery."

The monk stopped speaking there.

"Hmm. I think it might be the work of an evil spirit or demon after all. But since there are no physical traces left, the possibility of it being an evil spirit is higher."

"An evil spirit?"

"Making people scared out of their wits and then possessing them is a method often used by evil spirits. Moreover, they're creatures that casually do all sorts of terrible and eerie things to scare people. Hmm. It seems the security devices aren't very good. Or the evil spirit moved very stealthily."

The monk concluded.

This was not the work of a human.

It was clearly the work of an evil spirit.

And the other experts nodded as if agreeing with the monk's opinion, and each threw in a word or two to support the conclusion the monk had drawn.

Then even the instructor began to suspect that it might really be the work of an evil spirit, not a person.

"An evil spirit. Then, if it's the work of an evil spirit and not a person, isn't it more dangerous?"

"Ho ho ho. Of course it would be dangerous. But don't worry. This humble monk will give you a Daruma painting imbued with Buddhist power. If you put it up in a visible place, most evil spirits will scatter in fear and run away."

The monk handed over a few scrolls to the instructor as if doing him a favor.

"Ho ho ho ho. These are items I've put my utmost sincerity into painting. There's nothing better for repelling evil spirits."

"Such precious things... Thank you."

"Your gratitude alone makes me so happy. I feel like the mental energy I spent painting these is being restored."

The instructor cursed inwardly while listening to the monk's words that seemed to be fishing for praise.

Damn bald-headed monk. He's practically advertising for donations.

But outwardly, he didn't show it and thanked them, sending them off.

Even escorting them out.

Then as soon as he returned to the training ground, he hung up the received Daruma paintings here and there with an expression dripping with irritation.

"Hmm. They are well-painted."

The instructor made a displeased expression at the Daruma paintings that looked as if a master had poured his sincerity into them, but felt relieved that the prank that had enraged him wouldn't happen tonight.

*                     *                     *

The next day.

"You've. Got to be. Fucking. Kidding me-----!!!"

The martial artist couldn't help but roar again with a voice full of anger.

"These damn frauds...!"

Faces were stamped on every tree surrounding the training ground.

As if mocking him.