Prologue:
"Gyatei, gyatei, haraa gyatei, harasoo gyatei, boojii sowaka..."
The monks were praying. With their heads bowed before the altar, a dozen temple acolytes tirelessly chanted the mantra for the expulsion of evil spirits. And on the mat between them and the altar lay a young woman, tossing and turning as if in a feverish delirium. Her face was as pale as snow, and her hair, dampened by the tormenting heat raging within her, seemed soaked through to the very ends.
The monks continued to pray. Chanting the mantra drained the acolytes of their strength; copious beads of sweat stood out on many of their shaven heads. They were giving it their all, devoting every ounce of their physical and spiritual energy to combating the affliction that had befallen the unfortunate woman.
Standing not far away, the head priest of the temple, Hataroku Jumbei, already long past his youth, frowned severely. The monks' strength was clearly insufficient. He was a sincere man, and he felt great pity for the wretched woman. It also troubled him that his younger companions lacked the power needed to overcome this calamity. It was a very dire case. Yet, despite the difficulties, the man did not allow himself even a shadow of negative emotion or any thought that they might fail to aid the sufferer. After all, this was the temple of the great Amaterasu-sama! And they possessed something that could help...
With a long, drawn-out creak—Jumbei winced with displeasure: *I really must oil those hinges*—the temple doors swung open, admitting a short figure into the candlelit room.
"Finally, you have come, Kaoru," the old priest said, looking at the newcomer.
He was a youth, or rather a boy, appearing to be around ten or eleven years old, with disheveled hair and a kimono hastily thrown on and tied. He had recently woken up, which was hardly surprising—the night was already in full sway outside. After casting a sullen, sleepy glare at the priest, the boy silently walked across the hall and approached the praying monks. Stopping at the head of the woman's mat, Kaoru swept his gaze over her, yet he seemed to be looking not so much *at* her, but *around* her and *into* her.
"Uwaahh..." The boy could not suppress a yawn.
"Kaoru!" the priest frowned.
"Tch." Clicking his tongue, the boy shook his head. Extending his arms forward, he shook them out, and with that motion, a string of prayer beads made of white and turquoise stones slipped from his right sleeve, dangling from his wrist. Taking a deep breath, the boy clasped his hands before his chest in a hand seal, then spoke in a clipped, sharp tone: "Rin, Byo, Toh, Sha, Kai, Jin, Retsu, Zai, Zen!"
The woman's body jolted as if struck by lightning. Letting out a long, drawn-out scream, she arched her back on the mat, her convulsions growing more violent with each word the boy uttered. The candles in the room flickered, sending shadows dancing across the corners. The monks redoubled their efforts, their voices growing louder and more insistent.
Suddenly, her screaming ceased, and the woman collapsed onto the mat like a limp doll, finally expelling a cloud of black smoke from her body. The smoke swirled above her, darting in every direction as if trying to flee, yet it remained a single amorphous mass.
"And just where do you think you are going? I did not give you permission to leave!" Kaoru muttered darkly, flicking his wrist with the prayer beads clutched between his fingers. The beads suddenly lengthened and shot forward like predatory serpents. In an instant, the cloud of black haze was bound by the rosary, trussed up like a prisoner in ropes. "Bind the evil!" the boy shouted, and the beads constricted with force, tightening around the mist that, by all logic, should have been impossible to restrain. Swinging his other arm, Kaoru hurled a white slip of paper into the heart of the mist. "Seal the evil!"
A flash of light briefly illuminated the room, and then everything simply vanished. A white slip of paper, marked with a five-pointed star symbol in its center, fluttered down to the floor, tracing delicate loops in the air as it fell.
"Good work, Kaoru." Jumbei smiled. Everything had gone perfectly. Just as it always did.
"Mm. Old man, I want to sleeeeep..." the boy mumbled, stifling yet another yawn as he walked away.
"Is that any way to speak to the Head Priest?! You little scamp!" the old priest muttered at the boy's retreating back. He said it quietly, though, and without any real anger—more out of habit than anything else. He still had not given up hope of reforming his adopted son's manners, but some deep instinct told him it was a lost cause. Suppressing a wistful sigh, the head priest turned to the monks, who were catching their breath. "You can handle the rest on your own. The usual procedure: this—" he cast a disdainful glance at the slip of paper "—is to be destroyed in fire, accompanied by prayers. Take the poor woman to the guest quarters and let her get some proper sleep. Clean up here and... You all did fine work, brothers."
"Yes, Hataroku-sama!" the monks responded in unison, smiling. They might have been exhausted, but at least everything had ended well.