The Night of the 16th, Part 1

LATE IN THE EVENING OF JULY 16th, the final celebrations of the Obon Festival were underway. Paper lanterns drifted peacefully in the water, accompanied by the gentle sound of music, laughter and joy.

Even the kami were out in droves, sharing their blessings with the festival participants and the spirits of the deceased. The occasional apparition was visible here and there, from souls too eager to stay for a little longer.

Yet not everything was solemn merriment.

Amidst the sea of kami and yukatas, the echoes of boots on the ground were ever present. Over the past several days, the movement of police and even military units had been ubiquitous.

Officers routinely carried out questionings, searches and even arrests, none of which were talked about in the media. SNS posts about it would vanish without trace, and rumors circulated about crackdowns on prominent influencers.

Thus, despite the apparent harmony throughout the festivities, the people couldn’t help but be slightly on edge. A wrong word, a wrong glance, and they feared finding themselves at the wrong end of a baton.

Such was the prevalent feeling held by the people, concealed under the mask of politeness and smiles. Ever so quietly, the residents of Tokyo were on edge.

“Are you seeing this, Akiko?” came the question from her former boss, Director Mito Hajime. “You’re a medium. You can feel the atmosphere as well as I do, so tell me. Do you truly believe this is a proper way of living? We haven’t even done anything yet, but the people have to wave and smile with a gun to their backs. Seeing all of this, can you really call this harmony?”

“I think she’s in no position to answer, Director,” replied Hakurō next to her.

The three of them overlooked the city at the distance from a mountain temple, long forgotten but secretly reclaimed by the Red Thread. It had been renovated, but not only in the spirit of Buddhism or Shinto.

Magic runes had been inscribed onto its open courtyard, with crystal pylons surrounding the main circle. These structures were dark and ominous, softly glowing with a deep red hue, and Akiko was on her knees in the middle of the formation.

Her eyes were vacant, with a slight glint of dark magic in them. If a spirit medium were to look at her, her condition would be obvious: she was possessed.

“Indeed, she might be unable to talk, but I believe she can hear us,” Mito replied.

“Deep down, maybe. So will you grace her with your wisdom, Director?”

“Perhaps. She was never one to listen to me, but maybe I’ll get through this time.”

“Don’t let me disturb you, then. I’ll blend in with the furniture.”

The Director snorted a short laugh as Hakurō did just that, turning invisible.

Nevertheless, he knew he wouldn’t have another chance to talk with his assistant anymore, so he would present his final argument to her just for the sake of it.

“You see, Akiko, the world you long for does not exist. It never has. The Bureau of Harmony is stubborn in their vision of preserving order at all costs, but they ignore the fact that purity is unattainable.

“We live in a world with limited resources, as part of a society ever hungry for more. The answer to this demand was industrialization, and with it, the old equilibrium was shattered. Pollution, exploitation, overharvesting… we have crushed the natural order, all to feed a system that grinds its people down to the depths of misery.

“You’ve seen the numbers yourself. Spiritual corruption has been on the rise, long before the Red Thread was founded. But the Bureau of Harmony cannot address the root cause.

“Our nation does not have the resources, the time or the will to return to the old order. All the Bureau seeks to do is to delay the inevitable, and so they hunt down the people corrupted by their very own system.

“They are blind to the simple truth: there will be a time when spiritual corruption can’t be purified faster than it’s created… and when this happens, no one will have the resistance to endure it.

“The Bureau’s zealousness will be our undoing. Instead of letting the people bear and overcome their own darkness, the Bureau crushes it with the boot of the ACU. And when the day comes that their strength falters… that will be the end of us.

“That’s why we need the Oni, Akiko. Even with the taint of corruption, not all of them lose themselves. Those with the strongest wills can suppress their darkness, and in time, may even rise above it. We’ve witnessed it before, with Kisaragi-san.”

The Director made his case without expecting an answer. However…

“She isn’t… like that…” Akiko’s voice replied, barely audible.

“Oh shit. Dampeners!” came Hakurō’s order, and a buzzing noise filled the air.

“We shall see,” replied the Director with a thin smile. “The girl was outstanding eight years ago, and I only expect her to be stronger now. We’ve made sure her field experience isn’t lacking.”

In truth, the Director did have a few chances to catch her before, but didn’t. Not everyone in the Red Thread saw her as a savior in the making, but rather as the ultimate pawn. It would take some finesse from his part, but Mito was determined not to let her become the latter.

As he pondered his future plans, however, there was a slight shift in the air. The spirits of the dead had commenced their return journey, and the openings to the underworld were at their peak.

“It’s time, Director,” said Hakurō, walking up to him.

“Indeed. I’ll leave the ritual in your capable hands,” replied Mito, before turning to his assistant one last time.

“Farewell, Akiko,” he said, burning her image into his memory. “You were a good foil for me all these years. I will miss you.”

Then, the Director turned around and walked alone into the night.