Chapter 43: Flawless Performance
For a full, awkward second, Ibaraki simply stood there, jaw slowly lowering as his mind failed to process the dismissal. Then his face contorted from confusion to pure, unadulterated rage. The disrespect was unimaginable. This little mortal had dismissed his entire legendary existence as a minor inconvenience.
“YOU DARE?!” he roared. His form swelled with demonic energy. He raised a clawed hand. Dark power coalesced into a swirling vortex of destruction that would easily level the city block. “I'LL REDUCE YOU TO—”
A single piece of ofuda, a paper talisman marked with elegant, sharp calligraphy, appeared out of nowhere. It placed itself directly in the path of the oni’s raging energy. The devastating vortex of power hit the small slip of paper and dissolved into it without a sound, like a raindrop falling into the ocean.
The air stilled. Then the oppressive demonic aura vanished, replaced by a serene, absolute calm.
A man stood between Su Yao and the oni. He wore modern, impeccably tailored trousers and a crisp white shirt. Over them, he wore the traditional eboshi hat and the flowing, ornate robes of a Heian-era court noble. His face was ageless and sharp, while his eyes held a depth of knowledge that made the centuries in Mizukume’s gaze seem shallow.
“I believe that is quite enough,” the man said. His voice was calm, melodious, and devoid of all effort. It was the voice of someone who had never needed to raise it to be obeyed.
Ibaraki Dōji stared. His fury evaporated into pure, petrified terror. His massive form seemed to shrink. “Y-You...!” he stammered, taking a stumbling step back.
The man offered a slight, polite smile that barely reach his eyes. “Ibaraki-dono. It has been a long time. You are disturbing the peace and bothering my guest.” He gestured mildly towards Su Yao.
“Y-Your guest? I didn't know!” the oni pleaded. His bravado was utterly gone.
“That is no excuse. You will return to the shadows now. We will discuss your parole violation at a later time.” The man made a subtle, flicking gesture with his fingers.
Ibaraki Dōji, the great oni of Mount Ōe, let out a terrified whimper. His form dissolved into a wisp of black smoke, which was then neatly sucked into the ofuda before it fluttered gently to the ground.
The man turned to Su Yao. His expression was one of mild, academic curiosity. “My apologies for the disturbance. These lesser spirits can be so unruly. You are safe now. I am Abe no Seimei.”
Su Yao looked from the spot where the oni had vanished, to the ofuda on the pavement, to the man claiming to be the most legendary exorcist in Japanese history, who had just saved her from a demon she had been too tired to even acknowledge.
She felt an overwhelming sense of vindication.
He is Abe no Seimei, she thought. The exhaustion in her soul was momentarily burned away by the flare of triumph. The baking was not in vain.
Su Yao maintained her carefully constructed façade of ‘Xiao Ling,’ wide-eyed, slightly overwhelmed, and grateful. Inside, her ancient mind was screaming with a mixture of triumph and utter suspicion.
“Oh, thank you so much, Mr. Abe!” she gushed, layering Xiao Ling’s genuine politeness over her own razor-sharp calculation. “That was so scary! I baked some red bean buns as a thank you? It’s not much, but...” She gestured vaguely back toward the headquarters.
Seimei offered that same, polite, distant smile. “That is a kind offer, but unnecessary. I don’t involve myself in the affairs of mortals for rewards. The condition of this city is simply unacceptable.”
He sighed, a sound that conveyed the weight of a thousand years of bureaucratic spiritual management. “There is an evildoer at work. Someone is foolishly allowing malevolent beings to possess them, unleashing chaos upon the populace. It’s a gross perversion of the natural order. But don’t trouble yourself. I am here now. Let me handle everything.”
Everything? Su Yao thought. The Yamato? The soul-forging? The mass-produced masks? The man in white? His vagueness was as convenient as his timing.
“That’s such a relief,” she said, letting her voice tremble just a little. “But, if it’s not too rude to ask, how are you here? The history books all say you died ages ago. Did you possess someone?” She injected a note of innocent, morbid curiosity into the question, the kind a normal person might have.
Seimei’s smile tightened almost imperceptibly at the corners. It was the first crack in his serene armor. The idea of possession was clearly beneath him.
“A crude and temporary measure,” he corrected. His tone was still gentle but now carried a hint of scholarly reproof. “I underwent a true reincarnation. My soul was reborn into this era. It’s only recently that the veil lifted, and I regained the full awareness of my past existence. I awoke to this spiritual dissonance and knew my purpose was not yet complete.”
Reborn into this era? He was just like her. The parallel was too neat. Is he telling the truth? Or is this a cover story for a more calculated arrival?
“Wow,” Su Yao breathed, playing the part of the impressed mortal. “That’s amazing. So you’re like, a legendary hero, reborn to save us all?”
“I am merely a custodian making sure the balance is maintained,” he said, with a humility that felt as rehearsed as her own act. “Now, you should get home safely. The streets aren’t what they used to be.”
He gave a slight, formal bow and began to turn away. His robes swept gracefully despite the modern concrete beneath his feet.
Su Yao watched him go. Her ‘grateful’ smile was frozen on her face until he rounded a corner and vanished from sight.
The moment he was gone, her expression flattened into one of cold, hard analysis.
Reincarnated? Recently regained his memories? Here to handle ‘everything?’ The pieces fit Mizukume’s prediction perfectly. He was presenting himself as its new, benevolent guardian. Systematizing the chaos under the guise of solving it.
She pulled out her indestructible phone and sent a quick, one-word text to the group chat containing Zhang Wei, Director Hao, and Mizukume.
Xiao Ling: Abe no Seimei Confirmed.
Then, she added another message.
Xiao Ling: He refused the buns.
Su Yao’s phone buzzed instantly in her hand.
Mizukume: Impossible. Abe no Seimei had a documented, near-pathological fondness for red bean confections. He considered them a vital source of harmonious energy. To refuse a freshly steamed bun, offered freely, is a statistical anomaly of the highest order. This casts doubt on the initial identification.
Su Yao’s thumbs flew across the screen. Her walk home was forgotten as she stood locked in a digital war council on the sidewalk.
Xiao Ling: Or it’s a ploy. He’s smart. Shouldn’t he knows we’d know that? What if he’s refusing specifically to make us doubt he’s the real one? To lower our guard by making us think we’re dealing with an imposter?
There was a longer pause this time. Su Yao could almost picture the ancient echo processing this recursive layer of deception.
Mizukume: ...A valid hypothesis. A double-bluff. By acting out of character, he creates uncertainty, which leads to hesitation. He is weaponizing our own intelligence against us. The logic is, perversely elegant. I revise my assessment. The refusal of the bun increases the probability he is the genuine article by 17.3%.
Su Yao shook her head. A grim smile was on her lips. The layers of this were as intricate as one of Seimei’s own spells.
Xiao Ling: So we proceed as if he’s real. He’s playing 4D Shogi. Good to know.
Another thought occurred to her, a sudden, mundane intrusion into the cosmic conspiracy.
Xiao Ling: Wait. Since when do you have a phone?
The reply was immediate.
Mizukume: I requisitioned one from Agent Zhang Wei’s spare equipment locker. It’s a necessary tool for modern strategic operations. The emoji library is enlightening. ?
Su Yao stared at the little demon emoji. The image of the horrifying schoolgirl clone casually browsing emojis while analyzing the machinations of a legendary sorcerer was almost too much to bear.
She shoved the phone back into her pocket and resumed her walk home. The night air felt heavier than ever. Their enemy’s identity was confirmed, but now he was a ghost in the machine, using their own expectations as a weapon. Her primary source of intel was now online.
The phantom taste of red bean paste and deception still clung to her thoughts when the air grew cold again. A deep, rhythmic clattering sound echoed from the end of the street, like a thousand giant knuckles cracking at once.
Her weariness dulled any trace of surprise as she lifted her gaze.
A colossal skeleton, towering over the three-story buildings, stomped into the intersection. Its bones were yellowed and ancient. Each rib was the size of a car. Empty eye sockets glowed with a malevolent red light. Its teeth chattered in a horrifying, grinding rhythm. The creature was a Gashadokuro, a giant skeleton formed from the accumulated grudges of the dead.
It leaned over, its massive skull blocking out the moon. The clattering intensified as it focused on the lone girl below.
Su Yao let out a long, slow sigh that held the exhaustion of a thousand years.
“Seriously?” she muttered to the empty street. “A giant skeleton? What is this, a low-budget monster movie? Where’s the creativity?”
The Gashadokuro, perhaps offended by her lack of screaming, reached a bony hand the size of a bus down to scoop her up.
Su Yao ignored it. She was busy checking the time on her phone.
“Look,” she said. Her voice carried a conversational tone over the grinding bones. “I get it. You're big, you're spooky, and you've got great bone structure. But I've just had a very long, very complicated day involving legendary sorcerers and psychological warfare via baked goods. I don’t have the bandwidth for a generic giant skeleton attack right now.”
Its massive hand paused inches from her.
“So, if you could just crumble to dust or go haunt a more appreciative audience, that would be great,” she continued, finally glancing up at it with an expression of pure, unadulterated annoyance. “Otherwise, I'm going to be very cross, and you don’t want to see me when I'm cross. It involves a lot less talking and a lot more primordial foxfire.”
The Gashadokuro’s jaw stopped clattering. Its red lights in its eyes flickered, as if processing this unprecedented response. The creature was programmed for terror. This dismissive irritation was unprecedented.
Before it could decide on a new course of action, a familiar, calm voice cut through the night.
“It seems the pest control is never-ending.”
Abe no Seimei stood at the other end of the street. Another ofuda was already held between his fingers. He looked mildly put-out, like a librarian who had just found another book shelved in the wrong section.
With a flick of his wrist, the talisman shot forward, expanding into a shimmering net of energy that enveloped the giant skeleton. The Gashadokuro let out a silent scream of rage. Its form dissolved into motes of light and fading whispers before it could even swing its other arm.
Seimei brushed a non-existent piece of lint from his robe. “My apologies once more. The spiritual pollution in this city is truly out of hand.” His eyes met Su Yao's. This time, there was a glint in them that hadn’t been there before, a sharp, calculating interest. “You remain remarkably composed for one so consistently targeted.”
Su Yao offered a weak, grateful smile. Her ‘Xiao Ling’ mask was firmly back in place even as her mind raced. Again? Twice in ten minutes? Coincidence? I don’t think so. Conspiracy? Maybe. Hotel? Trivago.
“Oh, I was just too scared to move!” she chirped, layering on the breathless relief. “Thank you again, Mr. Abe! You're like my guardian angel!”
Seimei’s polite smile returned. “Think nothing of it. It’s my duty.”
“Please allow me to escort you the rest of the way to your home,” Seimei said. His tone left no room for refusal. It was a statement of fact. “It is clear the disturbances are focusing on you with unusual frequency. I must make sure you arrive safely.”
Of course you must, Su Yao thought. So you can find out where I live.
Outwardly, she beamed, clasping her hands together. “Really? You'd do that for me? Thank you! It’s just a few more blocks this way.” She pointed. Her gesture was slightly shaky.
They fell into step together, forming an utterly surreal pair between the legendary Heian-era sorcerer in full regalia and the seemingly ordinary high school girl. The silence between them was thick with unspoken calculations.
“So,” Su Yao began, adopting a chatty, naive tone. “This ‘reincarnation’ thing. Was it weird? Waking up and knowing you're like, a super famous historical person? Did you have to relearn how to use a smartphone?”
Seimei’s lips quirked in a faint, humorless smile. “The transition was seamless. My knowledge was always there, merely dormant. As for modern contrivances,” He gestured vaguely. “They are simple tools. The underlying principles of order and energy are eternal.”
Avoiding the specifics. Of course.
“It must be so hard,” Su Yao pressed, widening her eyes. “Seeing the world so messy now after the order of your time.”
“Indeed,” he agreed. His gaze swept over the neon signs and power lines with mild distaste. “There is a lack of discipline, a spiritual anarchy that allows such creatures to run rampant.” He glanced down at her. “You seem to possess a remarkably resilient spirit to endure it.”
There it is. The probe.
“Oh! I'm just lucky, I guess!” she laughed, a little too brightly. “And so grateful you've been there both times!” She let a note of worshipful awe creep into her voice. “It’s like fate!”
“Fate is merely a pattern waiting to be deciphered,” he replied. His voice was cool. He stopped as they arrived at the entrance to her apartment building. “Here?”
“Yes! This is my place. Thank you again, truly.” She gave him a deep, grateful bow, hiding the cold analysis in her eyes.
“Rest well,” Seimei said. His gaze lingered on her for a moment too long, as if memorizing every detail. “I have a feeling our paths will cross again. The patterns suggest it.”
He gave a final, curt nod and turned. His robes melted into the shadows of the street almost instantly.
Su Yao maintained her pleasant smile until she was inside the building, shutting the door firmly behind her. She leaned against it. The false cheer drained from her face, replaced by a grim certainty.
He was testing her. The ‘attacks’ were too convenient. His appearances were too perfectly timed. He was systematically probing her reactions, trying to decipher the anomaly she represented.
She pulled out her phone.
Xiao Ling: Seimei walked me home and knows my address. He was definitely probing. The attacks feel staged.
Mizukume’s reply was almost instant.
Mizukume: As expected. He is cataloging you. You are now a registered entry in his database. The question is, under what heading? ?
Su Yao was too busy realizing the truly irritating part of this whole charade to answer.
I am going to have to keep a spotless apartment and pretend to live like a normal person, just in case Abe no Seimei decided to drop by for a surprise spiritual audit.
The indignity was endless.
The weight of the day was pressing down on her when her front door burst open. A woman stumbled in. Her movements were a blur of panic. She was dressed in simple, modern clothes, but her eyes held a wild, ancient fear.
“Please,” the woman gasped. Her voice was strained. “Hide me. He can’t find me.”
Before Su Yao could even form a question, Who are you? Who’s ‘he'? How did you get past my wards? the woman’s eyes darted around the small apartment and landed on the large, industrial-style refrigerator.
In a move of pure, desperate instinct, she yanked the door open and crammed herself inside amongst the milk cartons and leftover containers, pulling the door shut behind her.
Su Yao stood in the middle of her living room, staring at the appliance. A part of her, the ancient, furious part, was deeply offended. Another part, the tired, modern part, was just done.
A soft knock came at the door.
She took a deep, steadying breath, smoothing her expression back into Xiao Ling’s harmless neutrality before opening the door.
Abe no Seimei stood there. His expression was one of polite concern. The sight of him at her doorstep, just minutes after leaving, confirmed everything.
“Forgive the intrusion,” he said. His gaze swept past her into the apartment with practiced subtlety. “I am pursuing a dangerous entity. A fugitive spirit fled in this direction. Have you seen anyone suspicious?”
Su Yao widened her eyes slightly, injecting a note of confused worry. “A fugitive? Oh, no! That sounds scary! But no, I haven't seen anyone. It’s just been quiet since I got home.” She gestured vaguely around her empty living room. “Would you like to come in and check? I just made some tea.”
The offer was a calculated risk, a display of transparent innocence.
Seimei’s eyes lingered on her face for a moment longer, then performed another micro-sweep of the visible apartment. His senses would be reaching out, probing for any trace of spiritual energy.
He would find nothing from the fridge. The woman was either masking her presence perfectly, or the refrigerator’s insulation was absurdly acting as a spiritual Faraday cage.
“No,” he said finally, offering a thin smile. “That will not be necessary. I apologize for disturbing your evening. Please remain vigilant.”
He gave a short bow and turned, disappearing down the hallway as silently as he had arrived.
Su Yao closed the door, locked it, and reactivated her personal wards with a flick of her wrist. She leaned against it, listening until his presence had completely faded from the building.
Then, she walked over to the refrigerator and pulled the door open.
The woman was curled between a half-eaten jar of pickles and a carton of eggs, shivering slightly from the cold. She looked up. Her eyes were wide with residual terror and dawning disbelief.
“You lied to him,” she whispered. Her voice was muffled by the condiments. “That was Abe no Seimei.”
Su Yao looked down at her. A slow, dangerous smile spread across her face, one that belonged to Su Yao entirely.
“Get out of my fridge,” she said. Her tone was conversational. “Then you're going to tell me who you are, and why the most powerful exorcist in history is turning my city upside down looking for you.”