The white of his robes stood out amidst the green and the brown — they outnumbered him greatly. His straw sandals allowed him to pass quietly, maintaining the peace and harmony that the mountain provides for ascetic monks like him — its towering height elevates them above the world of evil, where he remains undisturbed. As he saunters through the dirt path, the trees wave him a pleasant morning. The winds encourage him to go further, while the various critters cheer him on. In no time at all, his soft straw sandals meet the hard surface of a stone path that leads him higher. The further he soars, the further he is from man,

and the closer he gets to those who sit above them in the hierarchy of life.

Reaching the peak, he bows before crossing the threshold of the torii gate, entering hallowed ground. He turns to cast his gifted indigo gaze down the steps he had just passed, witnessing all manner of spirits and creatures prancing about, as one would do in their natural habitation. Undoubtedly, it was a beautiful sight to behold, harmony at its best, from the sounds, the sights and the saturation — although the lattermost was lost on him, the Monk does not dwell on what is supposed to be. He turns on his heel and walks past yet another gate that seemingly takes him through to another place in an instant; the lighter shades replace darker ones had it not been for the torches that pepper the walls every few meters at a time. He finds himself strolling down familiar stone halls, only stopping once he reaches a pair of large twin doors. Summoned he was to appear, but not yet given permission to enter. The doors remained firmly shut, and he maintains the same firmness in his stance. The spoken word, on the other hand, has a trait of elusivity; it eludes the closed room, seeping out to slither into his ear.

“This cannot be allowed to continue. We must put a stop to this.”

“And how are we to do that?”

“We send Shin.”

His ears perk up upon the mention of his name.

The doors drew open to reveal a conference amongst his masters. Shin can now put faces to the voices he heard, as if he did not recognize them already — a skill acquired through his long stay under their tutelage. Eight pairs of eyes are on him now, pleased to see him bow and take his rightful place. The doors close, and the discussion resumes swiftly.

“Shin.”

He turns to face Master Teruyuki who is seated at the head of the table; while all of them had shaved their heads in accordance with their customs, he has the cleanest shave — as if his hair respected these very customs and refused to get in the way of spiritual practice. “Yes, master?”

“We may reside in these mountains, but I take it the news is not lost on you?” Asked Teruyuki.

“No, master.” Shin shakes his head. “The trail of bodies grows ever longer with each passing day.”

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

Teruyuki nods.

“Forgive me, Masters… but I did overhear your conversation.” He gesticulates toward the firm doors. “The doors fail you.”

“And?”

Another voice pulls Shin’s attention — Master Rokuro. Their white robes fell like water with the proper posture, even while seated, but with Rokuro, his robes folded and sat comfortably on the rolls of his stomach.

“And I think I may be able to provide a solution.” Shin puts his hand forth, allowing it to stand on the table by way of all five fingers taking root. “Send me.”

“You see?” Interjects Master Kichiro, recognizable by way of a lone mole that sat perfectly below his lower lip; it is the only mark seen on him, seeing as how the white robes covered him close to perfection with bandages covering the rest. “The boy is eager, and he is ready.”

“It is not a matter of preparedness, but a matter of whether this is the right course of action.” Chimed Teruyuki. “Shin’s proficiency in the field leaves no room for doubt, let alone his gift. But it is not in our mandate to intervene.”

“Perhaps not. But it is in our mandate to maintain spiritual peace. The longer this malignant maniac is allowed to run amok, the more unrest he causes. Do you not feel it, Teruyuki?”

“The shadows,” Interpolated Master Hajime, the only tattooed monk among them, “there is a sting to them now. The trees shiver on windless nights, the soil crawls and the atmosphere boils.” He nods, confirming their worries.

“Precisely,” says Kichiro. “The Onmyoji are far too busy worrying about… bigger… things.” His tone triggers a number of duplicitous smiles among the masters. “The responsibility of subduing this unholy creature falls upon us.”

“Which is why,” Shin finally squeezes himself back in, “I think it best to send me. I can determine if this… thing… would truly require our attention.” He raises two fingers to point towards his eyes — dazzling orbs of indigo. “If I determine it to be so, then I will perform an exorcism and vanquish it. If not, then I return.”

The Monk’s suggestion had seemingly silenced all bickering in one fell swoop. This moment of silence was used by the masters to root through their musings; they looked to just about everywhere to find a conclusion to their stirred feelings — to the walls, to the floor, to one another. But nods soon came thereafter, and all eyes would look to Master Teruyuki once and for all.

“So be it.” Teruyuki says, “Proceed with this plan of yours, however, the exorcism will be done here. This creature may be far too powerful to be exorcised alone. It may take… all of us.” He looked to them all, receiving only mutual approval of his amendment to the monk’s plan. “Go now. Find him. Before it is too late.”