O-Nakatomi Kaito's hand trembled as he wiped his brow. "The mirror at Ise Shrine," he confessed, his voice barely a whisper, "is a fake." He quickly added, "After Japan's defeat in the war, the Emperor feared that the loss of the true mirror would crush the nation's spirit. He ordered a replica to be made and placed in the shrine for public display." He had to make it clear. The blame for this catastrophe could not land on his shoulders alone.
"He is correct. The mirror is a fake," Prime Minister Tagawa confirmed, a flicker of old annoyance on his face. He remembered the humiliation of bowing reverently to a counterfeit while news cameras rolled. "Gentlemen, the lives of hundreds of thousands are at stake. If any of you possess the real mirror, or have any information regarding its whereabouts, now is the time to speak."
He knew it wouldn't have simply vanished. Someone, most likely a wealthy Japanese collector obsessed with the Imperial Regalia, had it squirreled away. Before, pressing the issue was politically impossible. Now, with his entire administration on the line, he would tear the country apart to find it.
"If Nara falls," Tagawa's voice turned to steel, "everyone in this room, myself included, will be held accountable. I expect your full and undivided effort."
"Hai!"
The room buzzed with frantic energy. The priests, onmyoji, and monks, who had arrived expecting to offer platitudes and excuses, were now trapped. Their vast networks, cultivated over years of catering to the rich and powerful, were activated. In an age of newfound belief in the supernatural, these charlatans had become the gatekeepers to the divine, and the nation's elite were desperate for their favor—and, more importantly, for the secrets of longevity.
The full weight of Japan's hidden power structure was brought to bear. In less than two hours, they had an answer.
"It's in the Emperor's possession," Tagawa announced, his face twitching. The old fox was playing 'hiding in plain sight' all along. After a brief, respectful, yet firm phone call, the matter was settled.
"Thank you for your assistance, gentlemen," Tagawa said, his tone shifting. "I intend to establish a new Seventh Investigation Division within the PSIA, dedicated to handling supernatural affairs. I invite all of you to join and contribute to the continued peace and prosperity of Japan."
It wasn't an invitation; it was a draft notice. They were all in it now, for better or worse.
Back in Nara, the city was a warzone of chaos under the oppressive yellow sky. Ozaki, following the Prime Minister's orders, was attempting to gather the populace for the great ritual.
As Reiko reappeared, seemingly from thin air, Ozaki rushed to her side. "Great Priestess! Did you find it? Are you unharmed?"
She nodded, holding up the Yomi Bloom. Its leaves were a lustrous green, but the flower itself was a sickly yellow. A captivating fragrance emanated from it, underscored by the faint, nauseating stench of decay. The flower was, of course, a construct of Leo's divine power, a perfect imitation of a thing no living person had ever seen.
"Mr. Ozaki," Reiko said, her voice cutting through the chaos. "I will begin the ritual to summon my Lord. Please maintain order. Do not allow anyone to anger him." She then turned to the two charlatans. "Priest Tomioka, Master Tanaka, you will assist me."
Reiko, now dressed in the ornate robes of an emperor and wearing the painted porcelain mask, stood before a newly grown Sacred Tree. She began to dance, a strange, primal dance of worship—a dance Leo had learned from the primitive tribe in Thera. He knew it didn't matter if it was correct. In this new age, his actions would define what was correct.
Thousands of terrified citizens watched, their hands clasped in prayer. Even the most ardent atheists were now believers. In the crowd, the reporter Izuko Mizusui whispered to her cameraman, "Keep the camera steady. No matter what happens. We are capturing history."
Reiko solemnly placed the Yomi Bloom on the ground. Then, she held up the true Yata no Kagami, which had been delivered by military helicopter moments before, and shined its reflection upon the flower. A flash of white light, and the bloom dissolved into motes of starlight.
"She is making an offering," Tomioka whispered to Ozaki, memorizing every step. So the great god favors flowers from the underworld. Good to know.
After a series of theatrical prayers, Reiko released the mirror. It floated upwards into the canopy of the Sacred Tree, where it began to glow with an intense light. The turtle and crane motifs on its back came to life, their bronze mouths opening to speak in a single, unified voice.
"We welcome the Lord Ame-no-Minakanushi!"
From the crowd below, a chorus of nearly ten thousand desperate voices roared as one. "WE WELCOME THE GREAT LORD AME-NO-MINAKANUSHI!"
In a blaze of glory, the god appeared.
In the Prime Minister's residence, the council watched the live broadcast, their faces lit by the glow of the screen. The priests were weeping openly. Their faith, their life's work, had been validated. Only O-Nakatomi Kaito, the Ise priest, remained silent, his mind reeling. The ritual to summon Amaterasu… the mirror of Amaterasu… why do they summon him? Does our goddess… not exist?
From his perch in the tree, the god raised a slender, golden-hued finger and pointed at the sky.
"Decree: Yomotsu-shikome, Maiden of the Underworld, sever this connection."
A strange, ancient voice echoed from the spectral sky. "As you command, my Lord!"
The vision of Yomi shuddered, then retracted with astonishing speed, vanishing as if it had never been. The oppressive yellow sky returned to the deep blue of night.
The city of Nara was saved.
Below, the crowd erupted, prostrating themselves on the ground. "WE HUMBLY SEND OFF THE GREAT LORD AME-NO-MINAKANUSHI!"
A tidal wave of pure, potent belief, born of terror and salvation, washed over Leo. As it peaked, he severed his connection. On the ground, the Great Priestess Reiko collapsed, her part in the play complete.