"At this age, I can't even call it dying young." He waved his fan lazily. "If it were a few years earlier, I might've gotten some sympathy."
Then people could say his death was a tragedy—that a prodigy had died too young.
"If it snows in Kyoto the day I die, that would be perfect." Gojo Haru said wistfully.
But snowfall in Kyoto was rare.
"If you die unjustly, maybe we'll get a miracle: snow in June," Cyr said sarcastically, cutting through Gojo Haru's strangely sentimental moment.
People in Heian-kyo had a tendency to find beauty in sadness—Gojo Haru was no exception.
Even in death, he wanted it to be sorrowful yet poetic.
But with Kyoto's geography, snow was rare even in the depths of winter. This guy was dreaming.
"Then I guess I won't be seeing that miracle after all." Gojo Haru shook his head.
His end, clearly, wouldn't be one of wrongful death—it would only be a death in battle.
The people of Kyoto ignored everything happening beyond their borders. They continued their lives with music, dancing, and what they called their elegant routines.
It was as if all danger outside of Kyoto had been completely forgotten.
To them, as long as danger hadn't arrived at their doorstep, it wasn't worth worrying about.
The name Ryomen Sukuna had become even more infamous, and the number of curse users, onmyoji, sorcerers, cursed spirits, and yokai that had died by his hands continued to climb.
His list of enemies—and followers—was growing.
But clearly, the enemies far outnumbered his followers.
Anyone who crossed his path—regardless of race—almost never escaped death.
It was practically one man against the entire world.
Some villages hated him to the bone, while others built shrines in his honor and worshipped him as a god.
Many yokai had even been completely wiped out.
Now that he seemed to have finished cutting down the world's non-humans, his gaze once again turned toward Kyoto.
The strongest people of this era almost all lived in Kyoto.
"According to what others have reported, Ryomen Sukuna is currently approaching Kyoto with a small group," Gojo Haru relayed the information he had gathered.
There were still a few in Kyoto who paid attention to Sukuna's movements, always wary that he might eventually turn his attention toward the capital.
And it turned out—they were right.
Sukuna really was coming.
"In truth, the only one we need to worry about is Sukuna himself," Cyr said casually.
"He won't let others make a move—he finds that boring."
"He didn't bring many with him. Just a few," Gojo Haru added, equally unfazed.
"Good thing I told the Inuyama clan to lay low during this period… or they'd be in serious trouble," said Koen with a look of lingering fear.
For the canine yokai, luck was a double-edged sword.
Because of their temperament, they were prone to getting into trouble.
And if they happened to run into that Ryomen Sukuna guy, they might literally end up as a snack.
Suddenly, the sound of ecstatic shouting rang out from outside.
"We figured it out! We finally figured it out!"
"The barrier you asked us to create! It's finally done!"
After a flurry of disorganized footsteps, a group of disheveled individuals appeared at the door—clothes wrinkled, hair messy, clearly not having taken care of themselves for some time.
"Quick, the barrier you wanted is ready!" they shouted, forgetting all manners or formalities in their excitement.
They looked completely deranged.
Yet when they'd first arrived, every single one of them had been elegant, refined aristocrats—obsessed with appearances and etiquette.
"Let me see how it works," Cyr said bluntly, stepping outside and following them.
"As you requested," one of them began, "the barrier will release poisonous mist inside and is divided into two layers of space. Once someone passes through the torii gate, they enter the first layer, where they'll be poisoned, lose their sense of direction, and likely die there."
"The shrine is located in the second space, so it won't be affected."
"And the corpses of those who die in the first space will become fuel to maintain the barrier's energy…"
"So we'll need to draw a formation, starting from the torii and extending all the way into the shrine."
They eagerly explained the logic behind their design.
"Perfect. Then go ahead and start drawing the formation," Cyr clapped his hands and prompted them.
"The sooner the barrier's up, the sooner you all get to leave, right?" he said with a cheerful smile.
The group was nearly moved to tears.
Only heaven knew how desperately they wanted to leave.
They were so terrified in this cursed place that they didn't even dare sleep.
Even in their dreams, all they thought about was how to perfect the barrier—afraid that if they messed up, they'd end up dead.
Their meals had been terrible—barely better than eating raw meat.
If they didn't know there was absolutely no way to escape, someone would've run off from the pressure already.
"Congratulations. I say this mountain should be renamed Mist Mountain from now on," Gojo Haru joked.
Now that the barrier had been set and the place would be shrouded in thick fog year-round, calling it Mist Mountain was rather fitting.
Plus, the name subtly declared who the mountain belonged to.
Cyr. Mist Mountain.
And the name of the shrine? Kiryano Shrine.
"Not a bad idea," Cyr said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.
He didn't really care what the mountain was called.
Renaming places happened all the time. Even if it was called Mist Mountain now, who knew what it'd be called a thousand years later?
No one could even say whether this mountain would still exist a millennium from now.
"Humans really do love naming things," Koen muttered with his head lowered, batting a ball between his claws.
He remembered, back when he used to sleep atop a mountain, every human who saw him would give him some kind of name.
From "Little White" and "Big White" to "White Jade" and "Crimson Flame"...
Each one had their own name for him.
And Koen had always scoffed at those humans.
He had his own name—why would he need some human to give him another?
Two young pups nearby were watching the ball bounce up and down with rapt attention.
"Hopeless," Koen growled, smacking the ball hard and sending it flying.
The two little dogs couldn't resist their instincts and instantly chased after it.
"Most humans only name the things they believe belong to them," Gojo Haru added.
Though admittedly, there were always those "creative types" who tried to name everything they saw...
"Belong to them? Tch, humans really are selfish and possessive," Koen muttered, visibly annoyed.
So all those people who named him had been treating him like some pet they could claim?
No wonder... back then he'd thought maybe they had seen through his disguise as a yokai.
"Speaking of which, those two little girls—they're just average. No matter how much they train, they won't amount to much," Koen gestured toward the two panting girls nearby.
From their early days as refined noble princesses, they now looked like entirely different people—sweaty, with their hair tied back, eyes firm with determination.
Maybe it was also because they were now visibly two shades darker than when they'd arrived.
Once delicate flowers kept from sunlight, they now resembled scrappy kids from some countryside village.
"I don't need them to be strong," Cyr said offhandedly. "They just need to follow orders."
"They're like you—just mountain guardians I chose."
A yokai to guard the mountain. Two humans to help. That was enough.
"They won't last long..." Koen muttered doubtfully.
Weak, short-lived humans weren't exactly reliable.
°°°
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