-??? POV
The fervor within me stirs as I revel in the tumult of the year's final moments. How many years has it been since I beheld such a grand and jubilant congregation?
So this is the reason for Hotsuma to be crowned as the capital city. In contrast to the ruckus about foreign countries, the Forsaken, and other things, this lively atmosphere was, if I have to say, resplendent and gorgeous. It was fundamentally unlike the gloomy countryside.
The shimmering vibrancy of this eve, with its brimming vitality, is the perfect precursor to the dawn of the New Year. The moment for the 'midnight bell' to ring is imminent, and I know that its resounding bell will summon a spectacle unparalleled in its magnificence.
Nevertheless—
"What in the name of all things absurd is this 'midnight bell', anyway?"
Here I am, ensnared in my own musings, being fascinated by such an inconsequential question.
"Oh, surely they strike one hundred and eight times, don't they? But what is the number of one hundred and eight again?"
If you wish to proclaim your monumental greatness to the world, one hundred and eight tolls are not gonna cut it. No, no, you must ring that bell a thousand times over to truly make the world tremble with your magnificence!
Admittedly, one thousand eight hundred tolls might be an insurmountable challenge for a mere fledgeling monk.
But alas, one simply cannot stand idly by, you must cast your doubts aside and throw yourself headlong into the fray, consequences be damned!
"Hold on... I must've done something wrong here. Isn't the calculation a bit different?"
A peculiar unease gnawed at me, yet I dismissed it, deeming it no more than an inconsequential quirk. After all, the orgin and essence of 'midnight bell' were lost eons ago, erased from the minds of everyone.
Some strike the bell in mere whimsy, others join to indulge in a sense of hollow satisfaction, and thus, unwittingly, a ritual takes shape—a custom forged without meaning, left open to whims and interpretations, like an empty vessel to fill with any fancy by the imagination of the populace, because there was never a meaning or intention from its dawn.
Much like traditional songs, I listen purely for pleasure, for that transient gratification. Who knows? Perhaps at the very first chime, those radiant maidens across the way might swoon, utterly besotted, drawn to me by the whims of some invisible force.
I deemed it wise to conclude my affairs, lest this venture drift into the realm of frivolous fantasy and grandiose daydreams.
"But let's be honest here..."
With a reluctant sigh, I returned to the grim mundane, a plum of smoke rising as I savored my smoke-pipe.
"Isn't this just a tad... Over-the-top?"
Looming over me was a temple of such laughable grandeur, it seemed to taunt the lowly masses, a construct designed to belittle mere plebeians, pondering whether I dared to step inside.
"The primary residence of the Mikado Clan. It is absurd, in a lot of conceivable sense."
In my village, the temple of the same Mikado Clan is but a whisper of this one's presence—one of a hundredth to the size of this temple.
And I mean that in every facet—size, severity, and atmosphere.
This place belongs not merely to another league but to another dimension entirely.
I found myself in a state of bewilderment, seized by a single ludicrous question.What am I do to now?
"Ugh~~~"
Scratching my head, I pondered the precise course for me to take.
In this country, there lingers a crime more insidious than homicide—a blasphemy of the highest order, neglecting the customary pilgrimage to the Mikado Clan at the beginning of New Year. To fail in this duty is to betray one's very obligation.
Unlike distinguished figures that receive personal visits from the Mikado Clan such as the Emperor, the nobles, and the clan of the Rindou-Guruma, in stark contrast, we humble peasants must trudge dutifully toward them, visiting the Mikado Clan annually in this manner.
Truth be told, I cannot stand the whole ordeal. Not because it's a hassle—oh no, it is more like a twisted reckoning, a grim day of judgement to many people.
They want to pry into what lies in your interior, uncaring of age or gender, seeking any lurking trace of Yin Energy. And if such Yin Energy lurks within, they meticulously assess its weight and potency with extreme precision.
For most, they emerge deemed "white". For the less fortunate, they are brushed with"grey".
But those whose hue be the dreaded "black" are met with execution, if offered, would be an act of mercy to them.
Those shrouded in the pitchblack are no longer mortal beings; they have transcended into something else, impossible to be slain by convenient weapons.
Monitored without respite, sealed from usage of they power, they would languish in bleak captivity—forsaken souls, forever denied even a fleeting taste of freedom.
Hardly the kind of fate one would clamor for, would you not agree? I do not love it a tiny bit, either.
Thus, henceforth—
"Perhaps, retreat would be the most prudent course for me..."
I declared my most unhinged, heart-on-sleeve desire.
In the middle of my soliloquy, a procession of remarkably unremarkable souls drifted into the Mikado Clan's mansion. They should be fine, none seems to have a high concentration of Yin Energy from what I could tell.
My tale, alas, was a murkier affair, I managed to slip through the net to this day by the questionable skills of countryside sorcerers whose magic was as reliable as a coin toss in a hurricane.
But this sanctified aura? This oppressive spirituality? Oh, dear my mother, even a blind idiot could sense these sanctimonious wardens were genuine article.
"Turning tail, however, meant forfeiting my life to its demise."
I fished the cursed letter from my pocket, glaring at it with all the contempt, silently accusing it of orchestrating this fiasco.
Mikado Ryuumei—the head of Mikado Clan herself—had sent a missive straight to me. A request of my presence before her, shattering any microscopic sliver of hope I had for slipping through the cracks.
I'd been laying low in the countryside to the highest degree possible to my competency. So why, out of nowhere, had she plucked my insignificant name out of the void? Should I presume my veil of secrecy has been unceremoniously ripped apart?
No, no, no! Despairing now would be a fool's course of action. Hold onto your nerves! Trust in your camouflage skill!
Sure, I might be scrapping the very bottom of the food chain, but I had my little tricks for staying one step ahead of Mikado Clan's sorcerers. Besides, nothing about me stood out... Except, of course, the otherworldly tint of my hair.
Truly, I doubted their so-called keen eyes could decipher whether I bore the stain of Distortion pr was merely an eccentric oddity. My peculiar talent can shroud the density of Yin Energy within me, a feat impossible for hapless amateurs once a threshold of density is breached.
It's never been quantified with precision, so perhaps it's nothing more than a phantom menace?
Not that it changes the fact that my mother, my grandfather, and the whole motley lineage of ancestors before them have been a cavalcade of unorthodox weirdos.
And just when I fancied that this cursed lineage might finally rise with sublimation...
"Well—"
"Huh?"
"Ah..."
I hit a passenger on the shoulder.
*BANG*, *CLANG*, *Dong*, *BOOM*. Like that, I sent a stranger flying like a shooting star.
"Uh oh..."
I did not control my strength.
"He isn't dead, right...?"
I hope that is not the case, else, my life would go south real fast.
"Ah... Oh, ouch... What's with you? Slamming someone out of nowhere..."
"Oohh—"
Great. He seemed to be intact. In my relief, I ran over and bowed my head.
"Honestly, I'm glad that you're alive—for me, obviously!"
"Huh? Sorry, but can you give me a moment? I felt like there is something wrong here. Isn't this where you should apologize to others normally?"
"Umm, why?"
"Why you ask? Isn't it because I went through a painful time for no reason out of nowhere?"
"Oh, no need to fret! Really, I'm positively thrilled here!"
The sun is rising, the cosmos is twinkling, and life has never been more wondrous!
It was all so plain, so instinctive—yet the delicate man standing before me didn't seem to register it. His blank expression, and head cocked in confusion expressed his confusion, he seemed to not get what I was conveying.
"Eh, whatever. You must have a tough life being life that, but do your best to overcome them from now on, okay?"
"Haa... Thanks for the advice."
Overcome by my pity, I brushed the dust off his disheveled form. The delicate man just stood there, lost in a trance, cementing my view of him being indecisive and unreliable.
Was his head scrambled, or was he just one of those natural airheads? Honestly, he gave off the vibe of someone who has a screw loose in many ways.
Honestly, I wanted to applaud him for somehow surviving to this day. It must have been a tough life with that kind of personality.
"Hey, are you one of those country bumpkins? I can tell this is your first time from the most backward of countryside."
"Eh? How did you figure that out?"
"Isn't that obvious? Anyone can tell from the way you look in a blink of an eye. Listen up, pal. You're not gonna survive the big city with that carefree attitude. This place is on another league from those mountain villages with ten people or so. Why? You know the phrase "catch a weasel asleep"? Yes, that one. If you aren't staying skrewd and sharp, not only you would get outwitted but also lose your life too!"
"Ah, I get it now."
"Hey, do you get what I mean?"
Here I am trying to help him, and somehow he was as carefree as ever, and even was impressed by my advice.
I was practically twitching, and wondering if he even understood the meaning of my word, but he only smiled and responded he got it, seemingly being convinced of something.
"So, you're a bumpkin too, huh?"
"Ugh..."
Wait—how on earth did he come to that conclusion?
Not that he is totally wrong, though.
"Um, in other words, you believed that you must have been living in a pretty small world like a frog in the well like myself. And the number of people you have interacted with to this day is around ten people or so? From the way you are, I bet you're the last heir of a local noble that had fallen from grace, but is somehow being respected in the countryside? Sort of being a big fish in a small pond, am I right?"
"..."
"Am I wrong?"
"No, you aren't wrong, but that's not what I mean here..."
How did you even manage to deliver such a nasty speech with a straight face to a stranger? Like, you are telling me "Hey, no hard feelings! We're besties, after all!" To the face here!
He must be a volatile nutjob. As much as I was stupefied by his attitude, I must speak what I had in mind.
"I'm not sure about being a big fish in a small pond. I'm aware my view on the world is narrow, but I'm not a frog in the well, remember that."
"Of course, I didn't mean it like that. Did I somehow offend you?"
"Nah. You're just wrong about the frog. I'm more like a water strider."
"Hahaha! You're a riot, you know that? Here I thought humility of a trait that a noble must have. Perchance you are hailed from the lineage of noble and venerable blood? It would be of great honor if this is true. I'm Mibu. "
And as he spoke, this delicate man extended his hand toward me—
"Soujirou Mibu. Surely, this must be fate of some kind. Might I have the privilege to be your acquaintance, dragon in the well?"
And then, I sensed it—a glint of cold steel running around my neck—