Chapter 16: Behold the Mountain God's Divine Work
Flip, flip. The mountain god lay sprawled in his
usual spot on the veranda, skillfully turning magazine pages with his front
paws.
His eyes drooped lazily, his movements languid and
unhurried.
Was he actually reading, or wasn't he?
The perfectly consistent pace at which he turned each page
made it abundantly clear that his interest was, at best, minimal.
Using that rhythmic sound as background music, Minato sat at
the low table, carefully writing on pristine white business cards with
heartfelt dedication, stroke by stroke.
A pleasant breeze wafted between the man and the divine
being.
Such was the peaceful scene in the tranquil Kusunoki
residence garden until it suddenly came to an abrupt end.
The regular rustling of paper stopped dead.
In its place came a low, rumbling growl from deep in the
throat.
Gradually it transformed into a snarl, growing louder and
more intense.
An ominous atmosphere settled over them.
Yet Minato's expression didn't change in the slightest as he
picked up a fresh business card from the stack and placed it before him.
Preparations complete. Now to wait.
"Gah! What a blunder! How could I, in all my wisdom,
fail to anticipate such a situation? What inexcusable negligence!"
Gone was the earlier listless demeanor now his eyes blazed,
fangs bared, glaring at the magazine as if trying to pierce it with his gaze.
With nothing else to do, Minato began spinning his pen
between his fingers.
Index to middle, middle to ring finger.
Round and round it went.
"Information gathering is the key to victory,"
came the frustrated voice.
He let out an enormous sigh of vexation and slowly shook his
massive head.
"...Autumn's new offerings, is it?"
Spread across the pages of the local information magazine
was a map of traditional sweet shops.
Colorful photos of Japanese confections were scattered
across the layout.
With autumn approaching, local confectioners had launched
their new products one after another, resulting in a luxurious multi-page
feature.
"Sweet potato, chestnuts... persimmons... all excellent
choices..."
Even as he murmured in an utterly enchanted tone, his eyes
moved constantly, determined not to miss a single character. They crawled
across the pages with the intensity of someone devouring every last detail.
Meanwhile, Minato still waiting for his cue continued his
elegant pen spinning.
Using not just his fingers but his wrist as a pivot, he sent
the pen flying into the air with a flick.
One full rotation, then a reverse catch. Flowing smoothly to
his left hand next, it moved nimbly between his fingertips.
As the pen now transformed into a miniature baton spun in
changing directions across the backs of his fingers, his palms, and the tops of
his hands, the mountain god suddenly trembled.
"What! Incredible! Dr-dried persimmons filled with
chestnut paste?! How can such sinfully indulgent treats be allowed to exist?
Such greed is excessive! ...Ngh, yet I find myself drawn to it. Even I, who
holds smooth red bean paste as the ultimate ideal, am... But it cannot be
helped seasonal limited items are meant to be enjoyed at their peak. Yes, yes,
it cannot be helped."
The mountain god wavered back and forth repeatedly, and
Minato's pen spinning came to a halt.
Minato stole a glance at the magazine, now firmly pinned
down by front paws on both sides.
There, at the tip of that black nose, centered on the page,
was a dried persimmon.
From the bright orange cross-section, golden chestnut paste
oozed out temptingly.
Ah, that one.
He leaned forward with his elbows on the table.
Memorizing the product name and shop name, he nodded
slightly.
Settling back into position, he gripped his pen anew and
began writing methodically.
This was how it always went the mountain god's
"soliloquies" (far too loud to actually be soliloquies) would select
the featured sweets, which Minato would dutifully record: product names on the
front, shop names on the back.
If he was going to receive gifts anyway, it seemed only
right that they should be items the mountain god desired pure benevolence on
his part.
The mountain god usually remained unaware that Minato was
listening to his mutterings.
As a result, Harima's stock continued to rise
steadily always bringing the sweets that had been weighing on the god's mind.
Having finished reading from corner to corner, top to bottom
without missing a single detail, the mountain god let out a satisfied breath.
Then, the moment he slowly turned the page, he let loose a
tremendous roar.
"Wh-what?! That Echigoya! Their new product uses chunky
red bean paste instead of smooth?! Why would they commit such foolishness?!
Smooth paste was your one and only selling point! I-I cannot believe it... Grr,
that doddering old fool has finally lost his mind!"
Accustomed to the mountain god's rather foul language during
his private moments, Minato paid no heed and finished writing the front of the
card, then flipped it over.
The mountain god bristled with indignation for a while, but
then suddenly grew quiet and gazed into the distance.
The faint sound of wind chimes called forth memories from
the past.
His eyes narrowed as he began weaving words in a calm,
gentle voice.
"...Though I have sampled countless sweets throughout
the ages, I have yet to encounter anything that surpasses the amazake manjū
from my master's shop. That unchanging flavor from long ago, that taste which
forms the very foundation of my sweet tooth the twelfth-generation master who
stubbornly, faithfully, and sincerely continues to preserve it deserves the
highest praise. May fortune smile upon you, my master."
Channeling his worldly desires into a prayer, he began
emanating golden light from his massive form.
Countless thin beams of light converged at the tip of his
nose, swirling and forming into an orb.
What eventually took shape was a beautiful white pearl.
About the size of Minato's fist, it rotated in mid-air while
scattering golden light.
The mountain god rose to his feet.
Standing before the pearl on powerful limbs, divine
authority radiated from his majestic form.
A shockwave erupted outward from the mountain god, spreading
in all directions.
Windows rattled. The sacred camphor tree rustled.
Even the trees on the sacred mountain his physical form were
struck by the lateral winds, sending leaves and branches flying into the sky.
The wind chimes under the eaves rang out high and fierce.
His brilliant white fur rippled in waves of light as his
golden eyes blazed with particular intensity.
Then, in a resonant bass that echoed from the depths of his
being, he solemnly delivered his divine pronouncement.
"Listen well, twelfth generation. This is a gift
bestowed by me. Receive it with proper reverence. Your body has been growing
somewhat frail of late, has it not? Fear not, I shall banish those worries
immediately. None of this 'Perhaps it's time I retired' nonsense. A true
craftsman remains active for life. The next generation is nowhere near ready.
They cannot even approach your level. As things stand now, they could never
hope to satisfy my palate."
He shook his head gently and raised a front paw.
"Work diligently to maintain a robust body until your
very last breath, continuing to craft smooth red bean paste manjū and train the
next generation."
With these supremely presumptuous words of power imbued in
the pearl, he struck it with tremendous force.
Whoosh. Cutting through the air with a whistling
sound, the blazing fastball shot toward the fence on the far side of the
mountain.
It passed through in an instant and vanished, leaving only a
golden trail that was swept away by the wind.
The pearl had naturally flown toward Echigoya, the mountain
god's favored confectioner.
The violent winds suddenly ceased.
The wildly thrashing trees and wind chimes settled down,
restoring the original tranquility.
Minato, who had been desperately holding down his business
cards and pen with both hands, breathed a sigh of relief and slumped over the
table.
"There we go," said the mountain god with great
ceremony as he settled back down after completing his divine work.
Using his hind leg to pin down the local information
magazine, he pulled it closer and once again began scanning every inch while
muttering under his breath.
Minato picked up a fresh business card.
Gods really are so self-centered beyond human
comprehension, he thought as he smoothly wrote down what was obviously the
name of Echigoya's red and white amazake manjū.
Each time, he slipped several cards with shop names written
on them into the mix, though only Harima the onmyoji knew which ones would be
selected.
◇
The Echigoya red and white amazake manjū, wrapped in simple
paper packaging.
When Harima offered them and Minato accepted, their overall
warmth conveyed that they had just been steamed.
The sweet aroma of amazake and smooth red bean paste tickled
his nostrils.
Naturally, the mountain god's tail at the low table was
wagging at high speed.
The afterimage was no longer visible.
It was fortunate that the manjū had arrived before he'd had
a chance to hand over the business card with Echigoya's name written on it.
Even Minato could see the tension leaving Harima's body.
Harima always seemed unusually nervous, which made Minato
feel somewhat sorry for him.
No matter how casually one might interact with him, this was
still a great deity a being fundamentally different from humans, so perhaps it
was unavoidable.
Even though Harima couldn't see the mountain god's form,
Minato had realized (without being told) that Harima was aware of his presence.
However, he deliberately hadn't confirmed this.
Part of it was due to Harima's stiff demeanor, but it was
also because he would finish his business and hurry home without time for small
talk.
They exchanged the gift for a stack of business cards.
Harima thanked him and smiled faintly a rare occurrence but
as he carefully flipped through the cards to check them, his expression grew
puzzled.
"Some of these seem to be written with different types
of pens."
"Ah, yes. My power has compatibility with different
pens some are easier to channel power through than others. Pencils, mechanical
pencils, and crayons don't seem to work. So I've been trying various options to
find something better than my current main pen. There shouldn't be any problems
though."
With the mountain god's seal of approval, there was no doubt
about it.
He'd discovered that softer inks made it relatively easier
to channel his power a good finding.
Next, he planned to try brush pens.
If someone was willing to pay generously for what he wrote,
he should do his best to create the most effective protective charms possible
through daily trial and error.
Harima nodded in understanding, saying "I see,"
and stored the business cards written with colorful felt-tip markers and
oil-based pens in matching thin cases.
He had previously explained that these temporarily sealed
the purification power.
Apparently, if left unsealed, they would automatically
exorcise any evil spirits they encountered, potentially leaving him unable to
use them when truly needed. The fact that such precautions were necessary had
been quite an eye-opener.
Normally, Harima would promptly take his leave after the
exchange, but today he remained seated on his cushion, showing no signs of
getting up.
He seemed hesitant, as if he wanted to say something.
When Minato encouraged him to speak, after considerable
hesitation, he began talking in a stammering manner.
"Um... has anything strange or odd been happening?
Like... high-handed men coming around, or weird things appearing near your
house?"
"No? Nothing in particular."
He tilted his head. Indeed, nothing unusual had occurred.
Well, there was the mountain god restlessly swaying his
massive form nearby, and three of his familiar martens hanging upside down from
the eaves, staring intently this way.
And there were the turtle, wind god, and thunder god who had
temporarily moved to the roof when Harima arrived and were now noisily drinking
themselves silly.
But that was all perfectly normal.
Just another day at the Kusunoki residence.
Even as he observed Minato's usual demeanor, Harima's
expression grew unusually serious. He glanced once toward the mountain god,
then returned his gaze to Minato.
"There's a somewhat troublesome colleague who has it in
for me. He spotted your protective charms and has taken an interest in you. I'm
sorry. He's the type who uses familiar spirits to monitor my movements. I deal
with them each time, but if he hires people, I can't handle everything...
Please be careful."
"...Understood."
While greatly intrigued by the mention of familiar spirits,
Minato answered solemnly.
Between the two of them, the mountain god who had been
embodying the principle of "immovable as a mountain" slowly shifted
his gaze to focus on Harima.
Harima's hands, resting on the low table, tensed.
"Fear not. Humans have been foolish creatures since
ancient times nothing has changed. I know this well. I am not one to be outdone
by some mere small fry."
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