The Suddenness

From the moment his mother died, Haruka had prepared himself to endure anything.

He understood his position with a chilling clarity. His father was merely a man who had married into the Fujiwara family, a ghost who had vanished three years ago. Haruka had no one. In a clan like this, a world that revolved around the twin suns of bloodline and hierarchy, he was destined to be an outcast. He was ready for the whispers, the scorn, the petty cruelties.

He was not afraid of those hardships. He was ready.

But he had never, in his wildest, most terrifying nightmares, imagined this. That Momozawa Ai, the picture of modern, rational competence, would bring in a “spirit medium” to treat the Old Mistress. Let alone that they would demand he be the one to perform the ritual.

A look of profound disbelief crossed Haruka’s face. In an instant, he felt all his cleverness, his careful observations, had become a pathetic joke. He had no strategy for this, no way to navigate a situation so utterly detached from reality. Seeing their calm, matter-of-fact expressions, he felt a cold, sinking feeling in his stomach. It was like encountering religious fanatics, a cult that was deaf to reason, their eyes shining with a terrifying, shared madness.

The Old Mistress was sick, yet they called for a miko instead of a doctor?

Haruka suddenly felt that the frail old woman lying in the sickbed might be the only sane person in the house, while all the “normal” people outside were truly, profoundly mad.

Worse still, they wanted him to help.

Haruka couldn’t help but think of ancient, superstitious practices, of human sacrifices made to appease angry gods. He thought of his own precarious position—an unwanted, illegitimate child. He began to suspect, with a dawning, visceral horror, that these people might listen to the miko’s words and tie him up, throw him into a river as an offering in exchange for the Old Mistress’s health. The more he thought about it, the more terrifyingly plausible it seemed…

For a moment, Haruka didn’t know whether he should pull his hand back from Momozawa Ai’s grasp, terrified of provoking these fanatics. “What… what do you want me to do?”

“We need your assistance in the ritual,” Momozawa Ai said, her voice calm and soothing.

“How?” Haruka glanced at the gauze screen behind him, where he could only see the blurry outline of the large bed. The Old Mistress might not be able to see what was happening out here, but she could certainly hear everything.

The Old Mistress can’t move, Haruka thought, a desperate plan forming in his mind. But I have to try to move for both of us.

In that instant, a strange calm settled over him. He pulled his hand free from Momozawa Ai’s grasp.

“There is one part of the ritual that requires your help,” she said. She leaned down and whispered to the miko, “Miko-sama, is he suitable?”

The miko nodded, her cloudy white eyes unnerving. “He will do.”

Haruka felt as if the walls of a trap were closing in around him. “What exactly do you need me to do?” he asked, his voice strained.

“We are in need of a sword-wielder for the exorcism,” Momozawa Ai said.

“A sword-wielder?”

“You only need to hold the sacred sword. Miko-sama will do the rest.”

“But… why me?” Haruka demanded.

“Why not you?” Momozawa Ai countered, her smile serene.

“…I’m just an outsider.”

“There are over a thousand people in the Fujiwara household,” Haruka argued, his voice gaining strength. “Why choose me?”

“Because you are the Master’s son.”

“He also has daughters.”

“The sword-wielder must be male,” Momozawa Ai said, her expression utterly serious. “Therefore, it can only be you.”

“That’s not a reason! I… I was just an accident…”

Momozawa Ai bent her knees. “I implore you,” she said, her voice dropping, filled with a sudden, dramatic emotion. “Do not refuse.” To Haruka’s astonishment, she knelt before him, lowering her cold, beautiful face to the floor. “Please… you must save the Old Mistress.”

As if on cue, the room and the corridor outside had filled with servants. A sea of black-haired heads bowed, a silent, rising tide of black uniforms kneeling on the floor.

Even Fujiwara Kiyohime knelt. She wasn’t required to, but seeing everyone else on their knees, she seemed to decide on a whim and knelt as well, a strange, thrilling feeling stirring in her heart.

A chorus of voices rose as one, a low, pleading chant: “Please save the Old Mistress.”

Haruka was stunned by the sudden, overwhelming scene. He was at a complete loss, feeling as if he were surrounded by madmen, people with whom normal communication was impossible. And yet, for some reason, he felt a warmth spread across his face, his heart beating a little faster. It was a disgusting, intoxicating feeling of power.

But he was, at his core, a rational person. This all felt too sudden, too theatrical, lacking any substance.

“All of you, please rise,” Haruka said, his throat dry.

“We will rise when the Young Master agrees,” Momozawa Ai said, her eyes fixed on the tips of Haruka’s geta, her voice unwavering.

Haruka suppressed a strange impulse. He thought of his own mother, who had lain in a hospital bed just like the Old Mistress. If they could have afforded it, a skilled doctor might have saved her. But his mother was dead. The Old Mistress had wealth far beyond his mother’s wildest dreams, yet instead of receiving the best medical treatment in the world, she was entrusting herself to the “magic” of a miko.

Haruka felt he was meddling, his rational mind screaming at him not to dig deeper, to just accept it all and survive. But his principles, the stubborn core of him that his mother had forged in poverty and pain, wouldn’t allow it. And he had never lacked for courage.

And so he said, his voice clear and ringing in the silent room, “What use is it to beg a child like me? Why don’t you beg for a doctor?”

He expected Momozawa Ai to be angry, but she seemed to have anticipated his question. “A doctor cannot cure this,” she said calmly. “It is a supernatural illness.”

“How so?” Haruka was deeply skeptical. The Old Mistress’s behavior hadn’t seemed like that of a madwoman; it was more like there was a coup, and she had been forced to put on a mad performance for an unseen audience.

Momozawa Ai saw his doubt. “Young Master, you don’t know anything. The Old Mistress has already walked to the gates of hell and back. If you had come just a little earlier, you would have seen her like a pixiu—a mythical beast that swallows everything without ever passing anything. She ate more in one meal than ten grown men, yet she had not had a bowel movement in a month.”

Haruka frowned, not quite believing her. It sounded too exaggerated. A normal person with such a condition would have died long ago.

“It was thanks to Miko-sama’s exorcism that the Old Mistress’s life was saved,” Momozawa Ai continued, her voice filled with conviction. “But it is only a temporary reprieve. The monster cannot be eradicated, and the Old Mistress’s body, sooner or later…” She trailed off, letting the grim implication hang in the air. “Why won’t you agree, Young Master? It will not harm you. Whether you believe in it or not, all you have to do is hold the sword during the ritual. It is a small price to pay for a life, is it not?”

“I can agree, but…” Haruka didn’t trust this. He believed the miko couldn’t cure the Old Mistress. And when she failed, who would they blame? What would become of him then?

Momozawa Ai seemed to read his thoughts. “You only need to do your best. No one will ask for more.”

Haruka thought for a moment, his mind racing. “Alright,” he said finally. “I’ll do it. But I have one condition.”

Momozawa Ai was overjoyed, her mask of serenity finally cracking into a triumphant smile. “Of course, anything at all. Whatever you ask, the Fujiwara family will grant it.” She misunderstood his intent, thinking he was about to ask for status or wealth. “The party is about to begin, and a gift has been prepared for you. After tonight, no one will ever again dare to say you are not a young master of this house.”

But Haruka said, “My condition is for right now.”

He looked down at the tiny, ancient “dwarf.”

“Since I have agreed to participate, I will do my best. But there are many things about the ceremony I don’t understand. I would like to ask Miko-sama for her guidance… in private.”