Chapter 48

1. The Feeding God

The trees outside the window blurred past at high speed, like a flood.

"You okay? Not feeling sick?"

Ryoko leaned forward and asked. It felt strange that the person sitting across from me on the bullet train wasn't Kirima.

"Maybe something sour will help."

Ryoko peeled a frozen mandarin she had bought from the train attendant. Frost clinging to the peel burst and flew onto her glasses.

Ryoko smiled shyly and handed me the mandarin.

"Thanks."

It's a peaceful trip. That wouldn't be the case if I were with Kirima.

I wanted to ask why it wasn't him this time, but I remembered the argument at the countermeasure headquarters and couldn't bring myself to.

"Kirima-kun had to go on a business trip to report to the higher-ups. Sorry for suddenly pairing you with me after you just got used to him."

Ryoko spoke as if she had read my mind.

"Not at all. You're way better than that violent detective."

"Don't say that. People say you two make a great team. Or maybe it's thanks to you, Uyuu-kun."

"Me?"

"Yes. Since you came, we've uncovered the truth behind three unidentified Territorial Divine Offenses in a row. The higher-ups are thrilled."

"Must be nice for them. I'm the one getting worn out."

I bit into the mandarin she gave me. It felt more like biting into a frozen juice pouch than a fruit.

Ryoko gave a wry smile.

"Uyuu-kun, your sixth sense is a talent, like academics or sports. If you use it, you can help people—just like a god."

Her way of putting it gave me goosebumps.

"You're joking. There's nothing good about monsters or seeing monsters."

"That's not true. My hometown thrives because of it."

I reflexively asked her to explain. Ryoko took off her glasses and wiped the juice with the hem of her blouse.

"In my hometown, there's a god who protects the village from plagues. Since long ago, people closer to the god than ordinary folks like you, Uyuu-kun, have taken care of the god and managed the village."

"Is that some kind of metaphor?"

"It's real."

Ryoko smiled casually. I didn't know how to respond. Then I suddenly remembered she had hidden her last name.

"...Is the reason you don't want to be called by your last name related to your hometown?"

"Yeah, maybe. It's not that rare, but in this line of work, people who know will know."

"Your last name is..."

Before I could ask if it was Miyaki, Ryoko cut me off.

"Mihara. In my hometown, there are families from First-Hara to Tenth-Hara. The god we worship is called 'the Lonely God,' so the villagers all try to keep it from feeling lonely. Interesting, right?"

Her bare-eyed gaze was sharp like the tip of a knife. Just as I was at a loss for words, the bullet train came to a stop.

There's no work for us in a big city where a bullet train stops.

As usual, we transferred to a slow local train and arrived at a village with a bizarre summer landscape.

"What the hell is that? Looks like New Year's."

I muttered instinctively because something like New Year's decorations was hanging from the wooden station building.

Bare branches were densely adorned with pink, orange, and purple ball ornaments, like budding flowers.

I thought I had seen it long ago, but our poor family couldn't afford seasonal events. Probably when my old man was still alive.

In my memory, we used to decorate with rice cakes kneaded with food coloring. When I reached out to touch the decoration, I felt a dry texture clearly not meant for eating and pulled my hand back.

"They're cocoon balls."

Ryoko giggled.

"They're decorations for Koshogatsu to pray for a good harvest. Originally, sericulture regions used to pray for a bountiful yield by decorating with rice cakes shaped like cocoons, but these look like real cocoons."

"Hard to believe something this dry and wrinkled like an old geezer's fingers turns into silk."

"That's a terrible thing to say."

Her gentle, admonishing tone still had the air of an elementary school teacher, just like when we first met. None of the depth she showed on the train.

"Looks like this place used to be famous for sericulture. Look, lots of mulberry trees."

Ryoko pointed beyond the rusty tracks. The trees distorted by heat haze gleamed with an artificial luster more exaggerated than fakes.

"Even a place like this has Territorial Divine Offenses?"

"Outsiders wouldn't understand. Besides, cocoons symbolize fertility and vitality, and silkworms appear in Japanese mythology too. Their ties to faith should be deep."

"You really are a folklore professor."

"Still just an associate professor."

As Ryoko jokingly raised her eyebrows, a shadow swayed into view from the station building.

"What are you folks here for?"

At the raspy voice and sharp tone, Ryoko and I turned our eyes toward it.

An old man stepped out, wearing a hemp shirt with a Japanese pattern. He looked like a station attendant, but so old it was surprising he hadn't retired. It made more sense to think he was a senile elder who believed he was still on duty.

His aggressive demeanor irritated me a little.

"Why the hell should I tell you?"

The old man widened his cloudy eyes. Ryoko stopped me and stepped forward.

"Please don't. Sorry to startle you. I'm an associate professor at a university in Tokyo. We're here for fieldwork..."

When Ryoko offered her business card, the old man suddenly quieted down. Authority sure does wonders.

"We got off on impulse because we saw the cocoon decorations. Sorry we didn't make an appointment. I wanted my students to experience different cultures."

"Students, huh..."

The old man gave me a look of contempt, then softened his expression slightly toward Ryoko.

"Sorry, but there's no culture left here. Just worthless junk."

He must've always been grumpy. Waving his hand like he was shooing us away, he returned to the station building.

"What the hell's with that old man?"

Ryoko poked me in the side. If it were Kirima, he might've cracked a rib. I was glad he wasn't here.

"Worthless junk, huh..."

Ryoko muttered and slipped through the unmanned ticket gate.

"Maybe he just doesn't like young people coming here."

"Doesn't seem like that kind of thing."

I looked where Ryoko was staring.

There was an old bulletin board. Among the wanted posters and summer festival flyers pinned with rusty thumbtacks, one fresh sheet of paper was held up with new cellophane tape.

In the center of the copy paper was a strange drawing.

A creepy image of a fetus curled up inside an oval shape.

Below the paper were torn fragments of similar sheets. They matched the current poster's image. It looked like it had been torn down and reposted multiple times.

"Creepy... Is this a Territorial Divine Offense?"

"Not sure. It looks pretty new, so maybe it's some kind of new religion."

After staring at the poster for a while, Ryoko started walking toward the village.

That oval reminded me of an eyeball, making me feel like something was watching me from behind.

It was the perfect example of a nowhere village.

Weeds sprouted through cracked asphalt, and scattered among the houses were abandoned shops that looked indistinguishable from regular homes.

After walking for a while, we saw one building with signs of life inside.

Ryoko gave me a look, and we approached the amber sliding glass door. Before we touched it, it slid open.

"Customers?"

The chubby man who appeared looked to be in his thirties but wore a dinosaur-print T-shirt like a child. Ryoko looked a bit startled but nodded.

Inside, it felt like the entire village population had gathered. It seemed to be a coin laundry, but between the yellowed washers and dryers was a mahjong table, surrounded by elderly men and women on round stools. Must be the village hangout.

The middle-aged man led Ryoko and me inside.

"Mom, customers."

"Don't call me Mom in front of outsiders."

A gray-haired woman at the table looked up.

"Um, you're not our customers, are you? Are you here for the professor?"

"Professor?"

When I asked, everyone around us nodded at once.

"So people really do come from far away."

"They say the waitlist is years long, if you're lucky."

"She cured my rheumatism completely."

"It's such a blessing that someone so distinguished would come to a place like this."

Laughter like rippling waves filled the shop.

When I averted my eyes from the eeriness, Ryoko was also forcing a smile.

The gray-haired woman stood up.

"If you're the professor's guests, then you're practically one of us. Please, make yourselves comfortable. The gathering starts at four. Is there still iced coffee?"

A chubby man scurried toward the back of the shop.

Before I knew it, the conversation had completely veered off course.

What kind of gathering is this, and who is the professor? Ryoko's words echoed in my mind. New Religion.

One of the elderly men scooted over to make room.

"Here, have a seat."

As I reluctantly stepped forward, I felt something odd under my sole. I thought it was gravel, but it was softer.

I crouched down, untied my laces, and turned my sneaker upside down. A sensation like countless baby fingers traced my wrist, and a swarm of insects poured out of the shoe.

I shouted and kicked the shoe away.

The sneaker hit the dryer, and old manga books fell from above.

The fallen shoe only had some mud on it—there wasn't a single bug. It was another one of those things only I could see.

I pressed my chest, where my heart was pounding. The bugs had looked like caterpillars, but they were white and thick.

Those were silkworms.