Chapter 36: The Undying Eight Sufferings, the Differing Hearts of the Sword

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A Spirit Board?

Yūya Kondō frowned. “Junior Officer Nanjō, I have heard nothing about this.”

“Because it was only a half-star incident.” Aimi Nanjō folded her arms and yawned. “The only supernatural entity involved was a half-star vengeful Kokkuri spirit, and by the time we arrived, it had already been exorcised.”

She pointed at Tōru Uesugi. “This spirit board was brought back because Uesugi noticed something was wrong and suggested we take it with us.”

Kondō was rendered speechless. He scarcely concerned himself with incidents below two stars under normal circumstances, let alone some insignificant half-star supernatural incident.

“Perhaps this spirit board is extremely important to Love and Separation, yet she doesn’t know it’s currently in our possession. That may be why she sought out the two survivors of that incident.”

Aimi Nanjō continued, “That explanation is quite reasonable, isn’t it?”

No one objected.

After all, there was no other explanation that could account for Love and Separation’s bizarre behavior.

“So that’s what all this was about.” Ririko tapped her fingers against the table. “Has anyone thought to tell the two victims exactly what Love and Separation is? A supernatural entity? A ghost story? Or something else?”

Kondō was just about to refuse on the grounds that the less one knew, the safer one was, when Aimi Nanjō spoke first.

“Have you ever heard of the Eight Sufferings?”

“Birth, aging, sickness, death, love and separation, meeting what one hates, failing to obtain what one desires, and the flourishing of the five aggregates.”

Kondō slammed his palm onto the table and rose to his feet. “Junior Officer Nanjō!”

Aimi Nanjō remained expressionless as she faced her superior head-on. “If we don’t tell them now, are we supposed to explain it at their graves?”

“They have already come into direct contact with Love and Separation, Senior Officer Kondō.” Aimi Nanjō enunciated every word. “You have no right to deprive those involved of their right to know.”

Kondō’s face flushed with anger. “You—!”

Yet he could not refute her, because this was one of the Paranormal Affairs Bureau’s fundamental regulations.

—Anyone who comes into contact with it has the right to know.

Ririko watched in silence. She remembered asking Aimi Nanjō that night what the Fellowship of Friendship was.

But what Nanjō was doing now was utterly different from what she had done then.

And so even Ririko had to admit it—Aimi Nanjō was genuinely responsible, whether toward herself or toward others.

Aimi Nanjō stared at her superior, her tone utterly merciless. “Don’t treat them like ignorant children, and don’t assume that you can protect everyone by yourself.”

“Senior Officer Kondō, has having too much power made you too arrogant?”

Yūya Kondō clenched his rough fists, unable to answer.

Slowly, he sat back down and admitted his mistake. “I sincerely apologize.”

Aimi Nanjō continued explaining to Uesugi and Ririko. “The Eight Sufferings may be a concept originating in Buddhism, but negative emotions among humanity—or, more precisely, among the people of this world—have always existed objectively, accumulating over time.”

“When those negative emotions build up to a certain point, some catalyst will cause a large portion of them to separate and take shape as one of the Eight Sufferings.”

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At this point, Aimi Nanjō sighed as well. “That is also why the Eight Sufferings can never truly be killed.”

Uesugi Tōru, already numb from listening, ventured a guess. “Because even if one of them is killed, another will be born at some point in the future when a suitable catalyst appears.”

“Yes.”

Nanjō nodded.

Uesugi had no idea what to say. Just hearing the name made it sound like some ultimate boss, so how had he encountered it before even leaving the beginner’s village?

Kondō closed his eyes. “This generation’s Love and Separation does not appear to be newly born. May I ask how the two of you survived her attack?”

Uesugi glanced at Aimi Nanjō, who was smacking her lips nearby and occasionally reaching into her pocket to touch her cigarette case for comfort.

If Sister Nanjō were not standing here, he was certain Yūya Kondō would never have asked in such a courteous tone.

That was why he had already prepared his wording during the journey.

“Because I was carrying a treasured blade passed down through my family.”

He placed Kaga Kiyomitsu, which had been leaning against the leg of his chair, on the table, then slowly drew it from its sheath.

Kondō’s pupils contracted. “Kaga Kiyomitsu?!”

Even Nanjō turned her gaze toward the famous historical sword. “The one used by Sōji Okita? But wasn’t it supposedly broken?”

Uesugi answered without hesitation. “That’s why this is a replica. Even so, it can still inflict considerable damage on supernatural entities. I’ve been carrying it with me recently.”

His explanation was perfectly reasonable. It successfully shifted Kondō’s attention to the sword, which he examined from every angle while repeatedly praising it as an excellent blade.

Kaga Kiyomitsu, however, remained utterly still, seemingly unimpressed by Kondō.

After returning the sword to Uesugi, Kondō reluctantly withdrew his gaze.

Swordsmen were like kings of the sea: even if they already possessed a beloved blade, no swordsman would ever complain about having too many fine swords in his collection.

And so the pressure shifted to Ririko.

Uesugi looked toward her as well.

He was genuinely curious how Ririko had subdued Love and Separation’s avatar without suffering so much as a scratch. Judging by the soul ash released when the avatar was destroyed, it had been close to the level of a one-star supernatural entity.

Although Ririko’s swordsmanship and realm far surpassed his own, her physical abilities still fell within the limits of an ordinary human being.

Ririko said, “I did not kill the avatar. She dispersed of her own accord after realizing that she could not affect me.”

“Impossible.” Kondō interrupted her. “Even using only an avatar, Love and Separation would be capable of controlling dozens, perhaps even hundreds, of ordinary people simultaneously. Only those who have attained Sword-Heart Enlightenment, a state beyond the reach of ordinary people, can resist that control.”

“So I am not an ordinary person.”

Ririko raised her eyes, calm and deep as an abyss, and met Kondō’s gaze.

“Sword-Heart Enlightenment? I have that too.”

The meeting room fell silent.

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Uesugi struggled to hold back his laughter. He had to admit, Ririko’s display of superiority was both impressive and satisfying.

You think Sword-Heart Enlightenment is difficult? Sorry, but I have it too.

Yūya Kondō had no need to determine whether Ririko was telling the truth.

The instant their eyes met, he had already glimpsed the girl’s radiant sword-heart, constantly tempering itself and slowly expanding with every passing moment.

It was practically a newborn star, brimming with vitality.

Unlike his own “Insight into the Subtle,” which allowed him to perceive the workings of all things in the world, this young woman—Miss Ririko Tokugawa—seemed to cultivate her sword-heart along a far more self-oriented and purer path.

“Become stronger.”

Nothing more.

That purity drove her spirit and consciousness to grow more refined and more immense with every passing second.

But if it went uncontrolled, if it were allowed to continue expanding—

Then that overwhelmingly powerful spirit would not only destroy her. It would also annihilate everyone around her who had been drawn to its dazzling radiance.

Somewhat troubled, Yūya Kondō shifted his gaze away from Ririko’s eyes. When he saw the girl’s youthful face, he paused.

He suddenly realized that Ririko Tokugawa was probably only a high school student.

“Forgive my impertinence, Miss Tokugawa, but how old are you this year?”

“Eighteen.”

“And who is your master?”

“If I had to name someone, I suppose Hideya Kondō, the instructor of my school’s kendo club, would qualify.”

Hearing his elder brother’s name in such an unexpected context, Yūya Kondō’s thoughts came to a halt.

He remembered that his brother had lacked much talent in the supernatural arts, which was why he had become a physical education teacher. Even now, he had only reached the stage of Uniting with the Sword.

In other words, without ever receiving any formal instruction in supernatural techniques, Ririko Tokugawa had single-handedly shattered the overwhelming barrier that had stopped countless others.

And she was only eighteen.

Once he grasped that fact, Yūya Kondō swallowed with difficulty. His voice unconsciously softened.

“Miss Tokugawa, would you be willing to join the Paranormal Affairs Bureau? I can serve as half your master.”

At that, Ririko Tokugawa frowned.