1:00 AM, again

Ōtakemaru suddenly stopped mid-step. The group of thieves Murata had ordered him to neutralize and strip of the mysterious package had vanished—the tall gaijin had made a simple gesture with his hand, and they were gone. The powerful oni scanned the area, trying to detect the escapees, but they were simply nowhere to be found.

“Lord Murata…”

He turned toward the man in the kimono, still standing at the edge of the dock. Murata merely shrugged in apparent confusion.

Although Murata did not know exactly where those who had dared oppose him had disappeared to, he did know how they had managed it: that tall gaijin—who, incidentally, reminded him of someone from the distant past—possessed the ability to wield the power of the kami. This was hardly surprising; all one had to do was look at the cracked Moon. Murata grew pensive. This could be a serious problem… What if even one large fragment decided to fall from its orbit down to Earth? That was not impossible. Could the power he currently possessed prevent it? Probably not.

Murata sank deeper into thought. Yes, he had lived for hundreds of years since the moment he had… accepted the goddess’s finger into himself. He had walked along the floors of seas and oceans, witnessed countless events, learned many secrets, and commanded forbidden knowledge. He had wandered through the realms of spirits and demons, learned to speak with them—and then to control them. For a long time, the human world had not interested him, but over the last few centuries humanity had created so many fascinating inventions and harnessed such immense forces—some of which he had seen used with his own eyes—that he had left the lands inhabited by spirits and demons and returned, attempting to relearn the present-day reality. He adapted surprisingly well, navigating effortlessly through a world overflowing with unnecessary information, where it was enough to tell people what they wanted to hear.

He had brought along several demons curious about the modern world, and he had also encountered Tamamo, who had only recently broken free from beneath the stone that had imprisoned her for centuries and she was completely lost in the new reality. It had been easy—demons drew their power from human fear, which had greatly diminished in an age filled with inventions that spread knowledge. Murata had been able to defeat any of them, and creatures like these understood the dominance of the stronger instinctively. Even someone like Ōtakemaru—who was now beginning to sniff the air like an animal.

“There they are!”

Kaguya and Robert stepped out from behind one of the warehouses.

“And where’s the rest? Never mind… I’ll take the package for Lord Murata from you right now!”

Delighted, Ōtakemaru eagerly moved toward the pair.

They advanced a few steps—and stopped.

“Stop!” Kaguya commanded in an authoritative voice.

It was so unexpected that Ōtakemaru actually froze.

“What?! Something this small dares to give me orders?”

“Calm down. Let’s talk.”

“The time for talking passed long ago! Now it’s time for action!”

The enormous demon flexed his arms.

“More precisely—I’m about to tear you to shreds!”

Kaguya and Robert stared intently at the ground, paying little attention to the demon’s shouting. Carefully, they moved a few steps to the left.

“Here?”

“Here,” they whispered to each other and nodded.

“What do you mean, ‘here’? I heard everything!” Ōtakemaru bellowed.

“You’re welcome to join us…” Kaguya said, not even looking at him. Robert made an inviting gesture with his hand.

“Are you mocking me?! Damn you!”

The demon was truly furious now and charged toward them. Murata observed everything from a distance, still standing in place, but his suspicions were growing.

“Watch out, fool! Don’t go where they’re leading you!”

Ōtakemaru stopped dead, completely confused, looking first at Murata, then at Kaguya and Robert. At that exact moment, the pair looked up at the night sky.

Five seconds later, Suzuki’s taxi fell squarely onto Ōtakemaru’s head.

The heavy vehicle knocked the gigantic demon unconscious. Instantly, Kaguya and Robert rushed in and began striking Ōtakemaru with short sticks concealed in their sleeves. The sticks were embedded with anti-magic beads, which effectively weakened the massive demon pinned beneath the wrecked car.

Murata stared in utter shock. In that very moment, he was struck hard by a wooden sword and a club—one fitted with talismans, the other with anti-magic beads. The blow sent him crashing onto the concrete dock—for the first time since emerging from the water, something had forced him to move.

Asagi landed lightly after delivering the powerful strike and shouted:

“Mr. Harada! Your turn!”

She extended her wooden sword beyond the edge of the pier, where it was caught by Mr. Harada’s strong hand. Moments earlier—hovering just above the surface thanks to Kaguya’s magic—he had hurled the exorcist high into the air at the precise moment Murata was most disoriented.

Mr. Harada was then launched upward himself and landed on the dock floor, though with far less grace than Asagi. He raised his fists—one wrapped in talismans, the other wound with a cord of anti-magic beads.

“I knew that strike wouldn’t be enough to take him down, but I at least hoped that—”

Asagi broke off as Murata slammed his fist furiously into the dock. Cracks spread across the concrete.

“Don’t you understand that this is all pointless? That the source of power is inside me?”

Asagi and Mr. Harada did not respond—they were fully aware of that fact. Murata rose to his knees, then stood.

“So what will you do now?”

He spread his arms.

“This.”

Mr. Harada leapt forward and began pummeling Murata with his fists—something he had clearly been eager to do. The blows landed true, and the powerful mage had not expected them to be so painful. The combination of talismans and anti-magic was devastatingly effective. Murata was momentarily stunned by the force of the strikes he had never anticipated.

The mage staggered backward, not even attempting to dodge the painful punches. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what was happening to Ōtakemaru, who was nearly gone—first shrinking back into his human form, then dispersing into a cloud, almost completely losing his physical shape. Murata quickly connected the dots and realized that the black beads possessed anti-magic properties. He had never encountered anything like them before, but he understood immediately that they posed a mortal threat. He had no idea how such a band of amateurs had obtained such powerful and effective weapons, but he had no time to dwell on it.

He had to act—now.

He summoned a magical barrier, momentarily halting the barrage of blows, but several well-placed punches with anti-magic beads shattered it instantly. He reached into his pocket and scattered a handful of magical powder he, too, possessed—but Asagi leapt in and dispersed the cloud with her staff before anything could form. Murata had no choice left but to call upon the power within.

He closed his eyes and focused on the piece of the goddess’s body he carried inside him. He felt light flood his veins—light no anti-magic or other charlatan tricks could extinguish. This was true power.

Mr. Harada’s punches ceased to have any effect on Murata. Instead of being surprised, Mr. Harada shouted:

“Asagi, get ready!”

The exorcist threw aside her staff and gripped her wooden sword with both hands.

Meanwhile, Mr. Harada smoothly moved behind the motionless Murata, who was drawing power from the goddess’s finger. He wrapped his arms around the mage’s waist, pressed his right fist just below Murata’s sternum, and clasped it with his left hand. He pulled sharply inward and upward, performing a Heimlich maneuver, while Asagi increased the pressure by striking Mr. Harada’s fists with the hilt of her wooden sword.

Murata’s eyes bulged as, simultaneously, he spat out the glowing little finger he had bitten off the goddess nearly half a century earlier.

Until now, taxi driver Suzuki had been hiding behind a lamppost. He sprang forward like a baseball player diving for an especially difficult catch—and succeeded, grabbing the fragment of the goddess’s body.

“Shame about the taxi…” he muttered under his breath.

“But we’ve got it!”

Everyone raised their hands in a gesture of triumph.