Chapter 63: The Third, Fourth, Fifth…
Crow, Shikigami, Onmyo Arts.
It is something she should have realized earlier.
In truth, she had never escaped from the beginning.
When that crow found her, she had already lost the means to escape.
Everything they did may have been mere attempts at constantly driving her away, denying her respite, watching her frantically run around, until the end…
However, they killed the wrong person.
They really made a mistake.
She is not Nishino Junko, completely unaware of the followers of the evil deity, otherwise, how could she have escaped back home?
Kichyō clenched her teeth, her heart filled with sorrow, as a sense of powerlessness gradually crawled up her spine.
If she had known it would turn out like this, she would rather have plunged into Tokyo Bay, putting an end to everything.
In the end, all the struggles were futile, as she knew that everything she thought she knew might not be true at all.
Always crawling and struggling within the circles others have drawn, like ants trapped within a meticulously crafted prison.
She forced a bitter smile, a hoarse and bitter smile, secretly mocking her own naivety.
She even harbored thoughts of accusing the other party's foolishness and cruelty.
It is utterly meaningless.
This group of fanatics has no trace of rationality left. Even if they realize they have targeted the wrong person, the most they can muster is a cold and heartless "Oh, what's next?" uttered with a touch of sarcasm. Humanity is the farthest word from their grasp.
The man, dressed and groomed like a Western gentleman, had a pair of blue eyes. He appeared as if he had received an aristocratic education, exuding an air of genteel courtesy.
"Thank you for showing us the way, Miss Nishino," the man said appreciatively.
"We have specially prepared a grand gift for you, and we wonder if you are satisfied with it or not."
On his shoulder, the crow held an eyeball, seemingly plucked from a lifeless body somewhere. The nerve fibers trailing behind the eyeball dangled from the bird's beak, dripping with blood.
The girl's voice was deep and resonant, her forceful shouts had strained her vocal cords to the point of injury, sounding as if each word she uttered was tearing through her vocal registers.
"This time, I have lost to you, thoroughly defeated," she admitted.
"You should have known from the beginning that there was no possibility of winning. Why betray and engage in such petty actions behind the back of our friendly solidarity group when you could have stayed at headquarters?" The man tossed another eyeball, caught by the crow, tilting his head as he pressed the walking stick with his white-gloved hand. "I am truly saddened, Miss Nishino."
"Do not come any closer," Kichyō warned.
"At this stage, whatever you say is futile," he uttered.
"No, I am merely advising you to keep your distance from me, for otherwise you may come to regret it," she cautioned.
"I eagerly await," said the leader of the fanatic followers, commanding the crows as he calmly approached. "However, I am even more curious. Can you answer me? What have you been doing all day? How did you manage to disappear without a trace in half a day's time?"
"Sure." The girl revealed her teeth in a smile, while the steel blade reflected the blaze. Despite being covered in wounds, she maintained a commanding posture, her smile carrying a hint of mockery and satisfaction. "Go ask me in hell!"
She lost, a crushing defeat.
But there is still a chance!
The crow screeched as the leader of the fanatical followers approached her. Invisible forces instantly tore through the floor and wooden doors and windows. The spacious wooden table was violently ripped apart as if it were mere paper, unleashing a ferocious power that surpassed the comprehension of ordinary warriors.
"Ah…"
In response, there was only a sardonic laugh.
Kichyō closed her eyes, held her sword horizontally in front of her, and turned the blade.
If not now, then when?
She raised the sword and drew it across her neck, bravely committing self-decapitation!
The things I once dared not do, I now hesitate no more.
The sharp blade sliced through the fair neck, causing fresh blood to gush forth, splattering the fanatical cult leader's half-dressed body with a shower of crimson.
He first retreated a few cautious steps, wary of any trickery, only to realize afterwards that it was nothing more than ordinary blood.
What a tremendous effort, just to splatter someone with blood?
He stooped down to pick up the ancient sword, pinching the blade edge between his thumb and index finger, as he wiped away the blood and fat.
"This is a masterpiece by Jialan."
"Already unsealed, but unfortunately you don't know how to use it."
He threw the sword into the flames and said, "Nishino, you are even more foolish than I had imagined, in many ways."
Blood gushed forth, and it was swifter to have her head severed than to die by self-inflicted wound. The pupils of Kichyō's eyes were stained crimson by the blood.
"… Damn that bastard Nishino …"
The girl's curses were feeble, and with a soft thud, she gently fell to the ground, her eyes gradually losing their luster.
Refusing to close her eyes as well.
…
On November 17th, in the afternoon, at three-thirty.
The girl woke up.
She opened her eyes.
A heart filled with burning vengeance.
"Onmyoji!"
Exiting the park, a red-eyed crow perched upon the courtyard wall. In an instant, it was struck by the stone she had thrown, dropped down, and subsequently crushed underfoot, its neck twisted.
The irritating sound didn't resound once more.
She headed straight towards the shop, this time taking a brief note of the name of the antique store - "Jialan".
However, the looting still must occur.
With a resounding bang, the display window shattered, and along with it, it seemed that her previous tenuous grip on reason also shattered.
Awakening earlier meant facing more pursuit, so she chose to take the initiative, lingering in one place for a brief moment, waiting for everyone to gather before executing a compelling interrogation.
Due to her overly immature tactics, she exposed her position too early, falling into the enemy's encirclement. Realizing that escape was no longer possible, she found herself trapped, with no possibility of a breakthrough.
This time, without any hesitation, she decisively took her own life with the sword.
…
November 17th, in the afternoon, at two thirty.
Time once again regressed by one hour, which, for her, didn't signify a favorable occurrence, as the timeline underwent another alteration.
She learned from the previous lesson, hastened her pace, concealed herself in the shadows, and didn't opt for a direct confrontation.
She continued to engage with the cultists of the evil deity until six o'clock in the evening.
Unfortunately, she couldn't escape this time either, so she decisively chose to run into the subway station.
Assuming that the pursuers wouldn't give chase, she found herself enclosed within the train compartment by the cultists of the malevolent deity. It was needless for either side to engage in a bloody battle, as the outcome held no significance.
Because the tramcar was detonated.
She couldn't recall which carriage she had entered, but the explosion this time was still imminent, leaving her shattered into tiny fragments upon death.
…
November 17th, afternoon, 1:30.
The grueling nine-hour maneuvering left her physical stamina completely depleted.
She couldn't reserve any more strength to confront the final appearance of the Onmyoji with blue eyes.
She overestimated her own abilities and underestimated the opponent.
After just one encounter, she became aware of the immense gap in strength between them. It was clear that the opponent was not someone she could handle alone.
She knew it was a certain defeat, yet she gritted her teeth and chose to continue struggling, seeking the slightest possibility of victory.
…
November 17th, afternoon, twelve thirty
Failure.
…
Afternoon, twelve thirty.
Failure.
From this point on, time will no longer retreat by one hour.
…
Twelve thirty.
Failure.
…
Failure, failure, failure, failure, failure
…
At twelve thirty, she awakened in the park.
At twelve fifty, she set down her weapon for the first time.
At twelve fifty-five, she fell into despair.
