Chapter 8: The Cherry Blossom Blizzard of Gotokuji Temple

At Gotokuji Station platform, the train slowly came to a stop.

Passengers waiting to board had already crowded to the sides of the doors, just waiting for the people on the train to get off so they could immediately squeeze in.

“I heard Gotokuji Temple has a lot of maneki-neko. I’ll take this opportunity to pay my respects.”

“I can understand your desire for money, but those are fuku-neko.”

“Fuku-neko? They’re clearly maneki-neko, raising a paw, squatting, exactly the same… hey, wait, they do seem to be different.”

The man and woman who were talking as they walked down made the bustling station slow down its pace.

The man, who was staring at the giant fuku-neko at the station exit, had a slight smile on his lips as he spoke. He was handsome and clear-featured, making people feel close to him, as if they had seen him somewhere before.

Walking beside him was a young woman with a cool and gentle face, and long, dark, glossy black hair.

Her back was straight, but it didn’t give off a sense of hardness or sternness. Instead, she had a light and airy feeling, as if she could be carried away by the wind at any moment, a sense of detachment from the world.

Looking at them, the crowd’s gaze was unconsciously captured.

“Maneki-neko raise their left paw and hold a coin in their right, while fuku-neko raise their right paw,” Minamoto Kiyomoto, who was being watched by everyone, told Kamibayashi Miko his discovery.

He was already used to being the center of attention, but walking with Kamibayashi Miko, even more people were looking at him.

Gotokuji Temple was a bit remote. The two walked for a while in the alley, and occasionally saw passersby with divine power in their bodies.

A housewife walking her dog;
An unemployed man drinking canned beer;
A middle-aged man with a DSLR camera, constantly taking pictures of the cherry blossoms.

These seemingly ordinary scenes, these extremely ordinary people, actually belonged to a very, very small world.

Apart from these insiders, outsiders knew nothing about it, nor did they need to know.

Walking into the temple, wooden shelves could be seen everywhere, and on the shelves were fuku-neko that were easily mistaken for maneki-neko.

“I’ve thought about it carefully. They’re both cats, and their postures are so similar. There’s no need to be too concerned about whether they bring wealth or fortune,” Minamoto Kiyomoto said.

“If it were for wealth, the pre-battle meeting wouldn’t have been held here.”

“What era is this? Miss Kamibayashi still believes in these things?”

“I’m going to visit the temple’s head priest. You wait for me here,” Kamibayashi Miko dropped this sentence and walked towards a Buddhist hall.

Minamoto Kiyomoto stood where he was.

This was a small stone-paved path.

The cherry blossoms around were in full bloom, like pink, light clouds floating on the ground. The small path had become a splendid cherry blossom tunnel.

‘Tomorrow, I’ll be fighting these guys,’ Minamoto Kiyomoto looked at the cherry blossoms before him.

To deal with the petals and branches, “Thunder Fire Slash” should be the best choice.

The petals were dense, so “Flowing Water Slash” also had to be ready to be used to avoid being surrounded.

“Excuse me—” a voice came from behind, soft, charming, and pure.

Minamoto Kiyomoto retracted his gaze and turned around. At this moment, a gentle breeze blew from the south, and like rain, cherry blossoms fell with the wind.

“Ah, it’s a cherry blossom blizzard!” the young woman in the kimono before him opened her folding fan and happily used it to catch the petals.

Her skin was as white as the first snow, her voice was sweet and lazy, and her expression was both bewitching and innocent, making one’s heart flutter and race.

Too beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as Kamibayashi Miko.

Minamoto Kiyomoto had always thought that Kamibayashi Miko’s beauty was unique in the world, but the kimono-clad young woman before him was her equal.

The kimono-clad young woman noticed Minamoto Kiyomoto looking at her. She shifted her gaze from the falling cherry blossoms and gave him a smiling glance.

“Hoo—” she blew gently on her fan, and the petals scattered, carrying a light fragrance, and rushed towards Minamoto Kiyomoto.

“Excuse me, is the meeting being held here?” she asked with a smile.

“Yes,” Minamoto Kiyomoto replied.

The kimono-clad young woman looked at Minamoto Kiyomoto’s forehead and suddenly burst out laughing. Her laughter was pleasant and melodious.

“Silly,” she covered her mouth with her fan, revealing a pair of clear and bright eyes.

“Hmm?” Minamoto Kiyomoto was taken aback.

The young woman didn’t answer. Her graceful figure, accompanied by the sound of silver-bell-like laughter, gradually receded.

Minamoto Kiyomoto watched her back. She wore a red kimono with a black outer robe.

The outer robe was painted with an extremely intricate and complex pattern of a white crane, lifelike, spreading its wings in flight, noble and luxurious.

In a blink of an eye, that snow-white crane disappeared at the end of the cherry blossom tunnel.

Kamibayashi Miko came out of the Buddhist hall and walked up to Minamoto Kiyomoto, her gaze sweeping over his forehead.

Minamoto Kiyomoto raised his hand and touched it. There were two cherry blossom petals on his hand.

He didn’t know if they had fallen from the tree or if the mischievous kimono-clad young woman had blown them there just now.

◇

The meeting was held in a one-story Buddhist hall with a blue roof.

A crowd of people in various clothes sat in a circle, layer upon layer. The old head priest of Gotokuji Temple sat at the head.

As the Divine Miko, Kamibayashi Miko, of course, would not sit with the “ordinary people.” She had a seat to the left of the old head priest.

Minamoto Kiyomoto, as her attendant, sat behind Kamibayashi Miko.

The kimono-clad young woman he had seen in the cherry blossom tunnel, whose identity was unknown, was seated to the right of the old head priest.

Although it was not the head seat, the old head priest had to gesture to both of them before speaking, as a sign of respect.

After some simple pleasantries, the old head priest of Gotokuji Temple introduced the kimono-clad young woman to the crowd.

“This is Lady Himemiya Izayoi. She is the cultivator sent from Kansai to assist us this time, and also the miko of Ise Grand Shrine.”

“The miko of Ise Grand Shrine?!”

The crowd below began to murmur, a noisy clamor, looking at the young woman named Himemiya Izayoi with surprise or doubt.

From the conversations of the crowd, Minamoto Kiyomoto learned that this kimono-clad young woman was one of the Twelve Miko.

Unlike the Four Divine Lords and the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry, who were ranked by strength, the miko were chosen by the twelve most powerful shrines themselves.

Even so, there had never been a weak one among the Twelve Miko. They could basically all reach the level of the Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry.

At this time, a noblewoman in a hitatare asked:

“Lady Himemiya, in previous years when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, the ones who came from Kyoto were all cultivators with seven subjugations. Why is it you who has come to help us this year?”

Cultivators had no realms and were ranked by the number of subjugations. The Thirty-Six Immortals of Poetry were all cultivators with thirty-six or more subjugations.

This was an unofficial saying and not accurate. Who was stronger and who was weaker still had to be determined by an actual fight.

For example, Kamibayashi Miko.

She hadn’t debuted yet and was considered to be in the same cohort as Minamoto Kiyomoto, but her strength was at least at the level of an Immortal of Poetry. It was unclear if she had reached the level of a Divine Lord.

It was said that the Divine Miko of previous years, those who lived long—close to 25 years old—were a line stronger than the Divine Lords; those who died early were only at the level of an Immortal of Poetry.

Kamibayashi Miko was only twenty years old this year.

Minamoto Kiyomoto looked at Himemiya Izayoi in the white crane and black kimono.

He wondered how her strength, as one of the Twelve Miko, compared to Kamibayashi Miko, who was the Divine Miko, at the same age.

After hearing the question from the middle-aged noblewoman cultivator, Himemiya Izayoi looked around at the crowd and said with a smile:
“Besides participating in the pruning activity of Konohanasakuya-hime, my purpose in coming to Kanto this time is also to, under the order of the Lord of Kyoto, hunt down Yagyu Michiko.”

“Yagyu Michiko? The sole survivor of the Yagyu family, which has produced Immortals of Poetry for five hundred years?”

“So it’s her!”

“She actually ran to Tokyo?”

Everyone present showed a look of understanding.

Minamoto Kiyomoto leaned forward slightly and asked Kamibayashi Miko in a low voice, “What is the Yagyu family?”

Before Kamibayashi Miko could answer, the young woman in the white crane and black kimono seemed to have heard him and glanced at him from behind her fan with a smile.

She was heard saying to the crowd:
“A month ago, the Lord of Kyoto summoned his ministers to the Shishinden Hall. The head of the Yagyu family was late without reason. The Lord of Kyoto ordered the entire Yagyu family to be executed.”

“Yagyu Michiko is the princess of the Yagyu family. She was sent to the Seiryoden Hall from a young age to serve by the Lord of Kyoto’s side, and was the only one in the Yagyu family to be pardoned.”

“On the third day after the Yagyu family was exterminated, Michiko escaped from the palace, and also took with her the treasure that had been passed down from the Tang dynasty and stored until now—the Genjo Biwa.”

After explaining the general situation, Himemiya Izayoi glanced at Minamoto Kiyomoto again with a smile.

Finally, she said to the crowd:
“You should all have a picture of Michiko. If you see her, it’s okay to kill her directly. The person who brings back the treasure will be rewarded by the Lord of Kyoto.”

The expressions of the people present varied.

Some were moved and had ideas about the reward; some were not interested; some showed emotion, saddened by the fall of the Yagyu family.

At this time, the old head priest of Gotokuji Temple said:

“Yagyu Michiko’s capacity is not to be underestimated. She was cultivated by the Yagyu family as the next generation’s Immortal of Poetry. Now, with the thousand-year-old treasure, the Genjo Biwa, if any of you wish to help the Lord of Kyoto, please be sure to pay attention to your own safety.”

Those who were eager to try immediately calmed down after hearing this, and even felt a wave of fear.

Himemiya Izayoi didn’t seem to care at all and still sat there with a smile.

“Next is the drawing of lots for this Konohanasakuya-hime subjugation,” the old head priest of Gotokuji Temple said again.

A very thin female novice monk, who looked to be only seven or eight years old, walked into the Buddhist hall holding a sandalwood box.

“Is this Minato’s daughter?” a man dressed as a samurai with a scar on his face asked.

The old head priest nodded lightly.

The samurai silently looked at the little girl. The small monk’s robe she wore was so empty on her that it was heartbreaking.

“Master,” the little novice monk knelt before the old head priest and called out timidly.

“Lady Divine Miko,” the old head priest said respectfully to Kamibayashi Miko.

The little novice monk crawled on her knees to Kamibayashi Miko and held up the wooden box with both hands obediently.

Kamibayashi Miko just glanced at the little girl, and a golden light took out a small scroll the thickness of a finger from the sandalwood box.

The scroll opened in the air, and on it was written: “Chidorigafuchi”

“It’s Chidorigafuchi, very dangerous.”

“But with Lady Divine Miko’s strength, she can definitely handle it.”

The crowd discussed.

“What is this again?” Minamoto Kiyomoto, who knew nothing, asked Kamibayashi Miko again.

“We are responsible for clearing the cherry blossoms in this place,” Kamibayashi Miko said softly, and the small scroll wrapped in golden light fell into Minamoto Kiyomoto’s hand.

“Lady Himemiya,” the old head priest gestured to Himemiya Izayoi again.

Before the little novice monk could crawl over, Himemiya Izayoi said, “I’ll also be responsible for Chidorigafuchi, is that okay, head priest?”

“Of course, you have the right to choose,” the old head priest nodded.

“Lady Himemiya Miko is also going to Chidorigafuchi?!”

“Bodhisattva bless me! Christ, look at me! Jade Emperor, I am your descendant! Let me draw Chidorigafuchi!”

“Oribe, you coward! Shame on you!”

“I’m thinking of the three newcomers I’m leading! I’m afraid they’ll die!”

From left to right, everyone took turns drawing lots.

Those who drew niche cherry blossom viewing spots like Aoyama Cemetery laughed out loud; those who drew places like Inokashira Park cursed loudly.

According to Minamoto Kiyomoto’s observation, there were three places that everyone least wanted to draw: Ueno Park, Shinjuku Gyoen, and Meguro River.

Without exception, all those who drew them had a look of despair, as if they were facing certain death.

“Please,” the novice monk knelt before the samurai who had spoken earlier.

The samurai glanced at the little girl, extended his thick arm, and took a small scroll from the sandalwood box.

“Sawairi, where is it?” the mage beside the samurai asked.

The samurai threw the scroll to him. The mage picked it up and looked, and his face immediately changed.

“Sawairi!”

The mage looked at the samurai with a worried face, but the samurai looked indifferent.

The little novice monk looked at the samurai with some fear, but finally mustered up the courage and said, “I hope the cats bring you good fortune.”

The samurai glanced at her, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword.

After the lots were drawn, Minamoto Kiyomoto thought that there would be an intelligence sharing session next, but who knew that they were dismissed directly, not even providing lunch.

Those closest to the gate left first. The old head priest stood up to see the guests off. Minamoto Kiyomoto and Kamibayashi Miko remained in their seats.

The little novice monk went back and forth, carrying her small body, and tidied up the tea sets left behind by the guests.

“Hello, I am Himemiya Izayoi,” the miko of Ise Grand Shrine came before Minamoto Kiyomoto and his companion and greeted them with a smile.

Kamibayashi Miko closed her eyes, looking as if she had no intention of speaking.

“Hello, I am Minamoto Kiyomoto,” Minamoto Kiyomoto could only step forward and say with a smile.

“What did you say your name was?” Himemiya Izayoi seemed to be taken aback for a moment.

“Minamoto Kiyomoto,” Minamoto Kiyomoto repeated, looking at her in confusion.

“Where did a Minamoto clan cultivator come from in Kanto?” Himemiya Izayoi sized up Minamoto Kiyomoto for a few moments. “Who are your parents?”

Her tone was a matter of course. Just from this one casual sentence, Minamoto Kiyomoto already had some idea of what kind of person she was.

She reigned supreme in her own world, firmly believing that she was absolutely correct, and always measured and judged others by her own standards.

Such a person was very cultured and not lacking in upbringing, yet she could not cultivate the virtue of tolerance.

“What does it have to do with my parents?”

“Do you know how the surname ‘Minamoto’ came to be?” Himemiya Izayoi’s smile was very intimate, as if the person who had just questioned him condescendingly was not her.

“I read ‘The Tale of Genji.’ I heard it was a surname bestowed upon his descendants by the Lord of Kyoto.”

“Who guided you in your cultivation?”

“Do I have to say this too?”

“Tell me,” Himemiya Izayoi’s voice could melt the Tokyo Tower.

This woman was very dangerous.

“Why are you asking so many questions?” Minamoto Kiyomoto asked with a smile. “Are you my mother? Or are you planning to be my mother-in-law?”

“Mother-in-law?” Himemiya Izayoi was taken aback for a moment, her eyes curiously sizing him up.

At this time, Kamibayashi Miko stood up and walked towards the gate.

“Goodbye, Miss Himemiya,” Minamoto Kiyomoto followed Kamibayashi Miko.

After walking two steps, he suddenly turned back.

Himemiya Izayoi happened to be retracting her hand, a cherry blossom petal pinched in it. She tilted her head and looked at him as if seeking praise.

Minamoto Kiyomoto glanced at the cherry blossom at her fingertip.

“Thank you,” he touched the back of his head and walked towards the door.

“I hope the fuku-neko bless you,” the little novice monk clasped her hands and bowed obediently to the two of them.

Arriving at the main gate, the old head priest, who was chatting with the samurai and the mage, bowed to Kamibayashi Miko.

“…Head priest, please accept this, to buy divine spring for Minato’s child!”

“Are you crazy, Sawairi! The money you worked so hard to save, weren’t you planning to buy armor?!”

“When Minato died, she left nothing behind. Her child is entangled by the breath of the gods. Are you going to let me watch her die? Head priest, I beg you!”

“Sigh,” the old head priest let out a long sigh.

Minamoto Kiyomoto turned his head and saw the samurai bowing, the mage worried, and the old head priest old and powerless.

He and Kamibayashi Miko walked out of Gotokuji Temple.

“What’s wrong with that child?” he asked Kamibayashi Miko.

“There is the divine breath of a yokai in her body. She should have been eroded,” Kamibayashi Miko replied.

“Is it serious?”

“A person without divine power will die.”

“You can’t save her either?”

“I can’t.”

Minamoto Kiyomoto was silent for a moment, thinking of the child’s small body.

“What is divine spring?” he asked.

“After a yokai dies, the divine breath accumulated in its body will settle into a divine spring. The remains containing the divine spring can be used to forge weapons, or the divine spring can be used directly to heal injuries.”

Kamibayashi Miko had already spoken her five sentences, and Minamoto Kiyomoto no longer spoke.

Inside the Buddhist hall, after watching the two of them leave, Himemiya Izayoi raised her hand. Besides the cherry blossom petal she had taken from Minamoto Kiyomoto’s head, there was also a strand of hair.

She held up the hair and looked at it against the noon sun.

“So it’s you,” she threw away the hair, opened her folding fan with a smile, and looked at the place where Minamoto Kiyomoto had disappeared. “An unexpected gain.”

Late, sorry.

(End of Chapter)