“You’re kidding…right?” he finally managed. He fully expected Shiroshi to respond like Beniko: “Yes, that was a joke.” “Huh? Wait just a minute. That’s not even possible, is it? I mean, come on, it’s Takamura.”
“…Yes. It’s precisely because it is Takamura.” Shiroshi’s voice was unnaturally flat, as if he was stifling his emotions. “If you’ll recall, I mentioned that the Mirror of Illumination had been stored in a suitable place.”
“Um, yes, I remember hearing that.”
“That place is the Enma Ministry. He was the one in charge of its care.”
In short, this had been Shiroshi’s line of thinking: If fragments of the Mirror of Illumination had been sown in the human realm, it meant that instead of being in storage, it had been either stolen, lost, damaged, or switched with a substitute. As its caretaker, could a man of Takamura’s caliber possibly have failed to notice?
“Simultaneously, another thought occurred to me. If Takamura himself were involved, it would have been easy to deceive everyone else.”
When Shiroshi asked the Enma Ministry to investigate, they discovered that the Mirror of Illumination had indeed been cleverly switched with an imitation and the storage record falsified.
Not many people would have been capable of such a feat, narrowing down the list of suspects considerably.
“And so I had the Enma Ministry continue their investigation in secret. That is why I concealed my condition from Takamura during the previous incident and had a detached force under the command of Great King Enma search for Ibara.”
A recent memory surfaced in Seiji’s mind.
During the search for Shiroshi, Takamura had gone out of his way to visit. What if he hadn’t done so out of sympathy or kindness but in order to sound Seiji out about whether Shiroshi was alive or dead?
But Shiroshi said they’d known each other for longer than he could remember.
Seiji had heard that Takamura used to stop by from time to time to make small talk and play sugoroku. To Shiroshi, he might have been like a much older brother.
Suddenly, a high staccato sound rang out. Takamura had clapped his hands. “Splendid,” he said, smiling wryly. “I’d expect no less of you. That means you didn’t trust me as much as I had assumed, though.”
“Unfortunately, for a very long time, I’ve made a point of believing in no one except Beniko,” Shiroshi said indifferently.
Takamura lowered his eyes, as if he pitied him. “As always, your life sounds terribly difficult.”
“That…is not something you may say at this point.” The lack of inflection in Shiroshi’s voice made the size of the emotions he was suppressing palpable.
Oh, I see.
Shiroshi had been completely surrounded by enemies since birth. He must have seen the shadow of eventual betrayal in everyone besides Beniko. He’d lived his whole life with that fear and the resulting endless suspicion.
Out of nowhere, a voice rose in Seiji’s memory.
“That’s why, for as long as you remain my assistant, I will continue to believe you.”
It was something Shiroshi had said to him during the incident on that remote island in Kyushu. Maybe those words had carried even more weight than Seiji had thought…
“When I first encountered Ibara, I thought he resembled you more than me.” Shiroshi’s eyes were fixed on Takamura. “A rare genius, a giant among men, eccentric. Such sobriquets have always been yours to do with as you pleased, and yet there was a side to you that the public could not fail to see as mad—to the point that they called you a feral lunatic. You are the one who refused to participate in the mission to Tang China, in the full knowledge that you would be charged with violating an imperial order. A mere thousand years isn’t enough to change one’s nature, so I doubt Great King Enma could have ever hoped to manage you.”
Seiji could almost hear the words that came next: But why did you betray me?
As if to forestall that question, Takamura held out an envelope. “I came to deliver this.”
The envelope was stamped with a wax seal in Berlin blue; it almost looked like an invitation. When Shiroshi carefully broke the seal, two pieces of paper fluttered out.
“Train tickets…?” he muttered.
The rectangular slips of paper were the color of the night sky, stamped with a gold foil emblem modeled on the moon and stars. The train was scheduled to depart from Tokyo Station at six the next evening.
Its name was the Blue Magic Lantern.
“Those are in lieu of a letter of challenge. Put simply, Master Ibara formally requests a duel, with the souls of your father and Shinno Akugorou as hostages.”
“A-a duel…? As in mortal combat?” Seiji shuddered.
“No,” Takamura said in the tone of someone soothing a child. “It will be a battle of wits, just as before. Each of you will be permitted one companion only. All agreements made through the Enma Ministry will remain in effect. Until the train reaches its destination, neither party will be allowed to directly harm the other. A violation will result in immediate defeat.”
In other words, Shiroshi’s opponent had switched from Odoro to Ibara. And now Ibara was providing the venue for a new duel in the hopes of settling the battle for the throne in a single night.
“He’s gone to the trouble of chartering a train? He is fond of theatrics, isn’t he?” Shiroshi sounded a little appalled. He shook his head slowly, just once. “What happens if I win?”
“Shinno Akugorou’s faction will lose, and you will be formally acknowledged as the Demon King. Naturally, your father’s soul will be released immediately.”
“And if I lose?”
“Just the opposite: The souls of both demon kings will be destroyed, and Master Ibara will take the throne.”
“…What if I refuse the duel?”
“To phrase it as a villain would, the lives of the hostages cannot be guaranteed.”
“It sounds as if I essentially have no choice. I’m not strong enough to survive without the support of Demon King Sanmoto Gorouzaemon.” Shiroshi bit his lip, cold anger building inside him. He closed his eyes for a moment, waiting slightly longer than the space of a blink, and then: “…All right. I accept the challenge.”