Cyrus felt nothing—no pain, no anger, just an overwhelming emptiness. The world around him was dark, yet he was fully awake. In the silence, he sensed a presence—someone... or perhaps something—watching him.
His eyes widened as realization struck. He was still in the same place as before, inside the stomach of some strange beast. Slowly, he sat up, his gaze distant and hollow, his eyes reflecting a deep void.
Next to him, Shirokae sat calmly, exhaling a stream of smoke from his kiseru. The fox turned his gaze toward Cyrus, his expression unreadable, and asked in a calm, measured tone:
"Well, are you calm now?"
Cyrus, his expression pained, grabbed onto his face as a grim realization struck him.
"I've really done it now... I'm going to be in big trouble after what I've done..."
Shirokae, his lips curling into an amused smile, exhaled another puff of smoke from his kiseru and spoke in a teasing tone:
"Are you talking about the kids you almost killed?"
Cyrus let out a weary sigh, still clutching his face.
"I didn't try to kill anyone… except for one. The rest just got a broken bone or two. So… what happened to them?"
The fox continued smoking, his expression calm and composed.
"Don't worry. I healed all the people you hurt and erased their memories of the entire event, so you won't face any trouble—this time. But..." Shirokae's tone grew slightly firmer. "If you ever do something like that again, Miravine, you will have to face the consequences of your actions."
Cyrus's eyes widened as he stared at the strange fox in disbelief.
"You erased their memories? How can you even do something like that?"
Shirokae stood up from his seated position, brushing off his kimono before looking down at Cyrus with an air of calm authority.
"It's one of the many mighty techniques the shamans from my homeland have developed," he said, exhaling a wisp of smoke from his kiseru. "And, as it happens, I'm one of the most prestigious shamans there."
Shirokae turned his back to Cyrus, his nine tails swaying gently as he began to walk away.
"Well, let's go for a walk, Miravine."
Cyrus hesitated for a moment before getting to his feet, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity. Deciding to follow the fox, he trailed behind as they moved through the strange, dark space. The air was heavy, and the stench was unbearable, like the rancid smell of decayed fish.
Breaking the silence, Cyrus asked cautiously, "So… where are we? It looks like we're inside some kind of beast's stomach… and the smell is awful."
Shirokae reached out, placing his hand on the fleshy wall surrounding them. The texture pulsated slightly under his touch.
"We're inside the stomach of one of my spirits—a Namazu, to be precise," he explained, his tone calm but tinged with pride. "Namazu are catfish spirits from Japan, believed to be the cause of earthquakes. This one is the same rank as me, the Reikō rank—a spirit of earth. He's called the Mighty Namazu."
Shirokae paused, exhaling another puff of smoke from his kiseru before continuing with a hint of amusement. "Though causing earthquakes is his most famous trait, that's not the most interesting thing about him. His stomach…" Shirokae gestured around the fleshy, pulsating space, "…is a four-dimensional space. Essentially, it's endless."
Shirokae turned away from the wall, facing Cyrus with an amused smile.
"I believe this is the best place for you and me to have a proper conversation," he said confidently.
Cyrus grimaced, pinching his nose as the foul stench of the space assaulted his senses. "Well, I don't think so—it smells horrible in here!"
Ignoring the complaint, Shirokae continued walking forward, his geta clacking softly against the fleshy ground.
"You'll get used to the smell eventually, Miravine," he replied nonchalantly, his nine tails swaying with each step.
As they continued walking, Shirokae led the way, his nine tails swaying with an almost hypnotic rhythm. He glanced back slightly, his voice calm but probing.
"Do you regret what you've done, Miravine?"
Cyrus didn't answer immediately. His hands remained stuffed in his pockets, and his expression was vacant, his eyes hollow. Finally, he muttered, "I don't regret it. Not one bit."
Shirokae didn't respond right away. Instead, he rested one arm inside his kimono, taking a slow draw from his kiseru. The smoke curled lazily into the air before dispersing. After a moment, he asked another question, his tone quiet but purposeful.
"Do you hate humans, Miravine?"
Cyrus kept walking, his posture relaxed but his voice cold. "I've never been the biggest fan of people. But since I became a shaman a year ago, it confirmed everything I felt." He paused briefly, his words sharpening. "What I learned on that one-year journey is this—I hate humans. Ignorant humans, to be precise. And every single one of them is ignorant."
Cyrus let out a hollow, fake laugh as he continued walking, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"It's funny," he said, his tone dry. "Even though I'm supposed to follow my family's footsteps, to be a righteous shaman my entire life, I've always disliked being around people. And instead of believing in my species—like Grandpa, Grandma, and everyone else in my family—I grew more and more hateful toward them as the years went by."
His eyes darkened, filled with a hollow melancholy as he spoke. "They all believe in the pride of being a shaman... but all I see is the burden of it. I don't think I'm fit to be a shaman."
The weight of his words hung in the air, a silent confession. He paused briefly, his eyes distant, as though lost in his own world.
"I'm tired," he continued, his voice soft, almost defeated. "Tired of feeling powerless against a world that shifts with each sunrise and sunset. For the worst, every day and night."
Shirokae didn't respond immediately. His geta clicked against the fleshy ground, creating a steady rhythm, almost like a melody.
After a moment, he spoke, his voice calm and thoughtful.
"Well, I've been watching you this whole time, and I've come to realize something. You can truly see what's in a person's heart if you ask them one thing: What's the first thing you'd do if you became a god?" He glanced at Cyrus, his expression unreadable. "I know you already answered that question earlier today. But now... if you were a god, Miravine, what would you do?"
Cyrus sighed deeply, his voice filled with a hollow resignation.
"I've thought about this a lot while I was walking through the streets earlier… about all of this. I hate ignorant humans—those who blind themselves with their own selfish ignorance because they're too scared to face reality. They hide away in their little bubbles, too afraid to confront the world as it truly is. So if I became god, I believe I would…"
Shirokae stopped walking, turning back as he noticed the emptiness in Cyrus's eyes. His golden eyes widened, a flicker of surprise crossing his expression.
"Kill every single non-shaman on this planet," Cyrus continued, his voice colder than before. "A world where shamans are on top and ignorant humans... are six feet under. That way, ignorance will be gone forever."
Shirokae turned away, his face now stern and his voice icy as he spoke.
"What if the shamans became more ignorant than the humans themselves? Yes, a world with only shamans sounds great. Shamans understand the true value of animals, nature, and the spirits around us. Shamans won't cut down entire forests that are vital habitats for countless species. We won't let children starve when food is there to share. We won't turn the planet into an unstoppable oven. But shamans are still human, Miravine. Humans are flawed, no matter how much truth they can see. There's a saying, 'Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely.' We shamans possess power that, if exposed to the mundane world, could be twisted by nations at war or by the greed of a few wealthy individuals. So, if shamans grow corrupt over generations, as humans tend to do, what will you do then?"
Cyrus let out a small, almost cynical smile as he responded, his voice filled with quiet conviction.
"It's the easiest question to answer, Shirokae. I would just kill every single human on this planet and make them burn in hell, with no exceptions. If there's one thing I hate more than ignorant people, it's those who were blessed with the truth yet continue to live in their twisted, wicked ways.
Shirokae let out a small giggle, continuing his walk with an air of amusement.
"It seems my theory about you is probably false... You are nothing like him. I'm glad you responded the way you did. If you had answered the way I thought that same person would have responded..." He turned back, his golden eyes piercing deep into Cyrus' soul.
"...I would have killed you on the spot, Miravine."
The words made Cyrus tremble slightly, a sense of unease rising in him. Shirokae sighed, his expression softening.
"But even though he is not in you, he still left a curse behind. Don't let your emotions get the better of you, or his marks will appear again. You're still young, Miravine, with infinite room to grow. You haven't explored humanity in its entirety. I believe you can still be a great shaman, so don't give up on your legacy just yet. Gain more experience as you live and decide for yourself…"
With a sudden movement, his wooden sword emerged from the ground of flesh in front of Cyrus. Shirokae picked it up with ease, holding it out to him.
"If you want to finally start believing in the pride that we shamans carry on our shoulders... well, our conversation ends here, Miravine. But we'll meet again soon enough."
Cyrus then fell to the fleshy ground, only to reappear on the same street where he had been before, the eerie surroundings of the spirit realm now behind him.
chapter forty-six end