Chapter 31: An Unexpected Answer

The phone rang about five or six times before someone picked up.

“Hello? Chihaya?”

Masako’s voice came through the speaker, a little lazy—like she was lying on the sofa while answering the call.

“Moon Princess, it’s me.”

Chihaya’s voice was formal.

“You has a question he wants to ask you.”

“You?”

Masako’s tone immediately shifted, becoming more concerned.

“What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

You leaned closer to the phone.

“Mom, I want to learn Curse Art.”

There was two seconds of silence on the other end.

“What did you say?”

“I said I want to learn Curse Art.”

Another silence.

This time it lasted longer. You could hear something tapping lightly on the other end—like fingers on a desk. His mother’s little habit when she was thinking. He had known it since he was a child.

Masako’s voice changed, from lazy to serious.

“Why do you suddenly want to learn this? Give me a reason, You.”

You answered casually, “Just curious. Chihaya said a Miko’s Curse Art can only assist, but an Onmyoji’s Onmyodo sounds pretty powerful. I wanted to see if I could learn it.”

Silence again.

This time it was longer. About four or five seconds.

Masako sighed.

“You, ah—”

Her tone became very slow, as if choosing her words carefully.

“Mom doesn’t really recommend you learn this.”

Masako paused, as if choosing her words.

“Your father might not be happy.”

You was even more confused.

“Dad wouldn’t be happy? Why?”

Masako sighed again. This time the sound was longer, carrying a sense of helplessness that said, “This child just doesn’t understand.”

“You, you are the Divine Child, the Living God, a naturally exalted existence.”

She paused, thinking about how to explain it to him.

“You are the Ruler, not the Executor. If something needs to be done, let those who serve you do it, rather than doing it yourself. That would be beneath your status.”

Another pause.

“Borrowing an old saying from the Celestial Empire: ‘Those who labor with their minds govern others; those who labor with their strength are governed by others.’”

Masako’s voice wasn’t loud, but every word nailed itself into You’s ears like a spike.

“At least, that’s what a deity like your father probably thinks. Otherwise, why wouldn’t the Living Gods have any divine power? Is it that the deities can’t grant it?”

The air in the room seemed to freeze.

Chihaya lowered her head, staring at the teacup on the table. Mai hugged the cushion, her chin buried in it, blinking her eyes. Futaba’s fan stopped moving, held in her hand, not stirring. Hitomi looked out the window, the side of her face soft in the dusk light.

You opened his mouth, wanting to say something.

But nothing came out.

Masako’s words were very blunt. So blunt there was no room for negotiation.

‘The Divine Child is the Ruler, not the Executor. Let others do things, don’t do them yourself.’

That was his father’s thinking. Or rather, that was the deities’ thinking.

‘The Living God has no divine power, not because it’s impossible.’

‘But because the “Ruler” doesn’t need to descend into the arena.’

This was a truth he had always understood, but he had never thought about it that way. The emperors of the Celestial Empire didn’t practice martial arts; the emperors of Japan didn’t learn Curse Art—not because they couldn’t, but because there was no need. With so many people below working, why do it yourself?

‘But as a transmigrator, how could he refuse the supernatural power that was within his reach? In his past life, watching novels and anime, who hadn’t fantasized about being able to use magic, Curse Art, all kinds of supernatural abilities? Now these things were right in front of him, within arm’s reach.’

‘But his father wouldn’t let him learn.’

‘Not because he couldn’t, not because it was dangerous. Because of “status.”’

You stared at the phone on the table, his chest tight. He couldn’t describe the feeling. It wasn’t anger, wasn’t grievance—it was something deeper, like someone had drawn a circle around him and said, “You can only stand inside this; you’re not allowed out.”

You wanted to argue, but he didn’t know where to start. This wasn’t just a generational gap between father and son over something like “whether to learn piano”—it was a gap in worldview between a human and a deity.

‘He was just a transmigrator who had lived eighteen years and only learned a week ago that he wasn’t an ordinary person.’

‘And his father—Tsukuyomi—was a deity who had lived for thousands of years.’

‘Thousands of years of cognition.’

‘How could he fill that gap with just a few words?’

He took a few deep breaths.

“Mom, I still want to learn. No matter how you and Dad feel, my stance won’t change.”

On the other end of the phone, Masako was silent for a moment. She sighed again.

This time the sound was much softer, with a mother’s unique gentleness.

“You, you’ve been like this since you were little. If you want to do something, no one can stop you.”

You didn’t speak.

“How about this—”

Masako lowered her voice a little.

“If you want to learn, you can secretly learn a little. Don’t let your father know.”

You’s eyes lit up.

“Really?”

“Really. But you have to promise me three things.”

“What things?”

“First, don’t let it affect your time with those girls. Otherwise, I won’t let you off. Second, don’t use it in front of others. Third—”

She paused.

“If you notice anything wrong, stop immediately.”

“No problem.”

You answered quickly.

“Don’t agree so fast.”

Masako’s tone carried helplessness.

“Chihaya, are you there?”

“Yes, Moon Princess.”

“I’m leaving You in your care. If he wants to learn Curse Art, you teach him. But—”

“Don’t teach anything too difficult. Just the basics.”

“Understood.”

Chihaya’s voice was very calm.

“One more thing.”

Masako’s tone suddenly became serious.

“Don’t tell anyone about today. Especially—”

She didn’t finish the sentence.

But everyone knew who she meant.

“We understand.”

Chihaya answered for everyone.

“Good. I’m hanging up now.”

“Wait, Mom—”

“Hmm?”

You hesitated.

“Thank you.”

There was a second of silence on the other end.

“Silly child.”

Masako hung up.

The dial tone came from the speaker. Chihaya reached over and turned off the speakerphone, putting the phone away.

The room was very quiet.

Chihaya looked at You.

“Starting tomorrow?”

You nodded.

“Starting tomorrow.”

He glanced out the window. The sky was almost dark; the distant mountains had turned deep blue, and the nearby trees were only black silhouettes. The window glass reflected the light from the living room, along with the blurry reflections of a few girls.

“Rest today.”

Chihaya stood up and began tidying the tea set.

“You, go to bed early tonight.”

“Why?”

“Learning Curse Art requires energy. You’ve had too much going on these past two days; you haven’t slept well. There are dark circles under your eyes.”

You reached up and touched under his eyes.

Was it that obvious?

Mai nodded beside him, adding a stab.

“Yup.”

You’s mouth twitched.

Futaba chuckled, opening her fan again.

“Divine Child, you’d better listen to Chihaya. Otherwise, she’ll keep nagging.”

Chihaya shot Futaba a glare.

Futaba grinned, pretending not to notice.

Hitomi said softly, “I’ll help too.”

Chihaya thought for a moment.

“Alright. Then tomorrow morning at seven, everyone come together. We’ll have breakfast and start right after.”

“Okay.”

The group sat for a little while longer, chatting about this and that.

Then everyone dispersed.

Futaba and Hitomi returned to their rooms; Chihaya and Mai went next door.

You sat alone in the living room, staring at the half cup of tea left in the teacup, lost in thought.

The chirping of insects outside was loud, just like two nights ago. The sound of the distant stream splashed and blended into the wind, not quite clear.

He remembered what his mother had said.

‘Those who labor with their minds govern others; those who labor with their strength are governed by others.’

He had heard this phrase in his past life, but he had never thought that one day someone would use it to persuade him not to learn something.

‘The Ruler is not the Executor. If something needs to be done, let others do it.’

He understood this reasoning. But he didn’t want to listen.

‘Wouldn’t it be too boring that way?’

He turned around and went back to the bedroom, lay down, and stared at the ceiling.

The ceiling was made of wood, very dark, with a few thin grain lines. Light shone down from above, making those lines look like ripples on a river, winding and curving, flowing to nowhere.

Tomorrow he would start learning Curse Art.

He turned over, pulled the blanket up to his shoulders, and closed his eyes.

His mind was still on his mother’s last words.

‘Don’t let your father know.’

‘If Father found out, would he be angry? Or would he just think that You had “lost his status”?’

‘No matter what, he was going to learn it. Even if his father disagreed.’

You made up his mind.

He remembered the day before yesterday at the entrance of Hakone Shrine, his father standing in front of him, surrounded by dim silver light, saying to Amaterasu, “You’s not wrong, is he?”

That back view was completely different from the quiet, taciturn middle-aged man at home.

But in essence, it was the same.

‘Father, Mother—both of them think he is the Divine Child, the Living God. He should hold himself aloof, let those who serve him do the work, not do it himself.’

‘But that’s not what he wants.’

‘Forget it. Stop thinking.’

‘Have to wake up early tomorrow.’

The chirping of insects came through the window, one wave after another, very rhythmic. An owl called out in the distance, then went silent.

You closed his eyes.