There are other documents that have been passed on to me, such as the red parchment, which ought to have information more to your liking. I do not know where my father found this parchment, but it is not in his handwriting, and it is much older than the others appear to be.
Two other books should be of some use. The Book of Unnatural Changes is a daunting read, so I have translated the passages that my father singled out. I remember him being quite excited when he first brought this book home. He found it in an old temple that was about to be torn down. He said the book helped him solve the supposed “curse of Aitou,” though he never elaborated. I wish I had asked him for more information then.
I have translated those passages to the best of my ability, but a few words are lost in the translation.
The second book is a girl’s diary. It was his most prized possession.
I am still quite adamant that you and your crew carry a few of the wooden spikes I have given you. The stakes were carved from the fallen branches of a tree at the Chinsei shrine that we consider sacred. Should we encounter anything untoward in our search for Aitou, they should offer some protection, as should the ofudas.
Kagura had schooled me in the ways of the ofuda. It’s a long strip of cloth made of dry hemp that’s covered in writing, usually an invocation to a deity or a shrine’s protection—in our case, the Chinsei shrine, the most powerful one I know. Ofudas are often used to keep ghosts away, which is why I’ve never had much reason to use them. For one thing, Okiku would complain.
But a red parchment? I check the rest of the pages, but none of these transcriptions seem to come from that document.
Okiku floats in the air above me, content to browse rather than single out any document in particular. I halfheartedly poke my way through The Book of Unnatural Changes, but it gives me a headache, so I turn back to Kagura’s notes instead. I’m relieved that she has been very succinct in her summaries. Most of the transcribed passages stem from a chapter called “On the Methods of Conducting Obscure Ceremonies” and make up no more than a couple of pages.
Eight is a number of infinite potential; therefore, it follows that the use of eight rituals in succession both invokes the highest chance of success and wields the greatest power. Eight rituals are needed for a hell’s gate. Eight rituals necessitate eight sacrifices. Only seven are required to close the gate, but eight are needed to rule.
Each ritual pacifies the hell’s gate and prevents its power from being unleashed until the seventh ritual can be performed, closing the gate. But to rule the gate, an eighth and final ritual must be performed while the gate remains potent. This can be minutes or up to three years after the seventh ritual.
All must perform the rituals according to the balance of elements available. If the fire element is strong within the area, you must strengthen the ritual with water. If wood is dominant, then one must temper the ritual with metal.
Okiku is of water. I remember her battling the masked woman in black and shudder. The demon had been a creature of fire, and what I saw of that fight had not been pretty. Water trumped fire, but the demon was strong, and killing it took a lot out of Okiku.
To rule the gate, it is important that the last sacrifice must be willing.
But to close the gate, all seven sacrifices must suffer to slake hell’s hunger.
The one to succeed shall know power. He shall rule demons and win victories; his enemies on the battlefield shall lie in the millions. He can challenge even the might of Enma Daiō, the King of Hell. All of Japan shall fall at his feet if he wishes it.
How seriously did Kagura treat all this, I wonder. Did she believe in her father’s research? Did the Ghost Haunts crew? All I’ve seen them do on their show is huddle inside dark rooms, flail their arms, and scream at nothing, so it’s hard to believe how serious they are.
He can also exchange the powers of a hell’s gate to resurrect a soul. Within the Hundred Days of Mourning ritual, he can restore that soul to its previous form.
Only the most powerful of onmyōji should perform these rituals. A lesser priest will not survive the gate’s fury.
Should any of these rituals fail, then the sacrifices shall be released back into the world of men. Those who face their wrath are doomed.
Should the gate fall, only one hope remains: use the vessels to trap the sacrifices and perform a final ritual in their presence.
There is little else to do then but to accept fate as the gods have decreed.
“Silly of me to think this would make sense,” I grumble, glaring at the large book like this is all its fault.
Auntie found the girl’s diary that Kagura referred to in Stephen Riley’s room, laid on top of his futon. I tackle that next. The diary’s been well cared for, despite its age. The pages turn easily, as if it’s been read often.
Whoever wrote this was no Anne Frank, but there’s something compelling about the way the girl chronicles her life. There’s a sadness to the entries that lingers, though the girl is gone.
And fear, I realize, as I read on with Okiku looking over my shoulder. The girl was very much afraid.