The impact rocks the body of the vehicle. Then galloping, unpleasant sounds and vibrations. Another light truck hit the guardrail.
Sitting in the passenger seat, Makoto Aizawa, who was dropping his eyes on the book without even his seat belt, thought of himself with a blatantly unpleasant look in his mind.
"Yukioka, do you have a license?
With his eyes dropped on the book, the truth asks with a voice scarce in discouragement.
"Hmm, I have it. It's been a long time since I've seen you."
Junko Yukioka, who drives a light tiger, answers as he sweats cold in a desperate phase.
"How many times have I bumped into you since earlier? Come on, I'm starting to feel bad."
"Aren't you sick because you're reading a book while riding a vehicle?
"It's obviously your fault."
Here lately, Junko had caught up with the mustard engine every other day or two with the truth. I take several trains from Euthanasia City to the city center, and even walk there on foot, so when I truly say, "Is it something I can't drive to," I bring out a light tiger for some reason and run with extremely abusive driving.
"I'll take a cab next time, please. So, they're not attacking us at all. What's the point of accompanying me?
Saying it in a pale voice, the truth is in my head, I fall asleep with my hands around the back of my head looking bored, and think of myself sighing.
"I know exactly what's going on over there, too. Looks like we're in a hurry to get ready. Though, there are signs that it's time to attack me. Well, it seems quite a few, so keep up the good work, though it'll be hard."
"It would be more of an intermission than an exposure"
True to correct the words of Junko.
"Too much is a limit on my own, but have I arranged for a few mice?
"Yeah. I have it ready for you. Alone, though."
It was a conversation that only the two of us would get through. But whoever knows Junko Yukioka, and who knows well, might have been able to see what he meant.
"It seems to damage the product in the middle of the presentation, because it's the end of the line. That's a good thing. We need to balance and adjust. You're the one who holds the balance."
"I'll try my best"
True to think of myself as a complete poker face, but a fed up look in my head. While I don't like putting emotions on the table, it's become a habit to imagine myself performing emotional expressions.
At the stop of the car with a signal, truly retrieves the cell phone.
"I think I'm about to take care of you... Yeah, please."
When I spoke to the person on the phone, I had a smile on my mouth for a moment. With a short interaction, I hang up right away.
"Nhehe, Canojo?
"Shut up. It's none of your business."
Junko, who witnessed it meticulously, told me to tease him, but the truth is, he says it looks grumpy. It wasn't just in my head, it was actually on my face.
"Why is this car like this? Besides, it's cold, and the heater's broken."
Ask again where the car ran off.
"Hmm, this is the only car I have left. I bought it to pile up research materials and stuff. I haven't used it much though. If you want to drive, you have to be colorful."
"It would be in all things if I were to be colourful."
"Mmm."
Truly said so in a pale voice, Junko roars.
The car stops. On the outskirts of downtown, there was a recent appearance of a familiar building passing by.
True and Junko get out of the car and enter the building. The sun was already setting.
A hall where more than a thousand people are likely to be allowed in spare time. Complex patterns in orange and black are painted on walls, floors and ceilings, creating a bleak contrast.
Light sources can be hundreds or thousands of candles. A suspicious bunch of people in strangely designed black kimonos who line up at equal intervals and cast spells on their mouths. They say there are nearly fifty of them.
Even if we look at that alone, we can see that it is a cult religious group or an actual sorcery group.
Apart from the spell, groans and sobs filled with resentment and despair were leaking from all over the hall. Some laughs you think you probably went mad. All voices are young.
Naked children were laid on their backs on the floor at equal intervals, as were a bunch of black kimonos. All are about six to ten years old.
Some boys and some girls, they look up at their absurdly tattooed ceilings surrounded by candles, they're sobbing, they're smiling vainly, they're laughing like crazy, they're blurry as if all their emotions were dead, and so on. The number shall exceed a hundred, or be close to it.
There was no restraint. There is no need for that. Because they had been severed from their roots without one exception.
The floor of the hall was in a sliding bowl, so snaggy that it went to the center.
At the centre is the altar, where the old man, dressed in a black kimono with a more luxurious design than the others, stands idyllically.
From his standing position, costumes and atmosphere, he also looks like the head of this group at first glance. Thousands of wrinkles deeply engraved on shallow black skin, lean and thin bodies like dead trees, he seems to be over a hundred years old to see from his wrinkled face, but his hips stretch firmly upright, his eyes are filled with a strong light of will, and his expression is tight.
What a beautiful sight.
Two women approached the old man and spoke to him.
We are both wearing black kimonos, but the woman who spoke up made us ask that the design is even more luxurious than the old man's costume, and that it has a higher status than the others. Despite its ponytail, its hair stretches to the back of its knees. He had a young, riddled face, but his eyes were filled with a disastrous light that was not always available to mankind.
The other is still old enough to be a girl, in a position to follow a ponytail beauty. It has a white head and a puppeted impression somewhere.
"Not at all, Ayumi."
An old man answered the ponytail woman with a respectful drop of his head.
"It was no more than thought to explore the mystery during the 700 years of our star charcoal curse, the law of fine living spirit service, and the opportunity to live and make it happen again. And the fact that I laid down the great role of partitioning this mystery is truly the ultimate in joy."
The old man's name is Koike Hayato. He is an elder and the highest ranking magician who has been in the family of star charcoal curses for over a hundred years.
"It's the right material. At the heart of this mystery lies my lord and grandfather."
The young master of the spell genre Star Charcoal Stream spell, Asami Star Charcoal (Ayumi Hozumi) narrowed her eyes and smiled.
"This mystery alone will slaughter most of the opponents, but somehow the opponent is that Junko Yukioka. You can never be alarmed. All hands must be exhausted and the total power of the Star Charcoal Flow spell must be increased."
"Not at all, Ayumi."
"But that's a nice sight nonetheless. Keep this sight properly burned in your eyes. Maybe there's no such thing as being able to perform this secret operation again while you're alive."
With a lucid look, Yayumi looked over at the naked children, a total of one hundred and eight, who had been amputated of their limbs.
"The more unclean and unclean your soul becomes from its recoil to its fine living spirit. The star charcoal curse has been studying its nature for 700 years, knitting this mystery."
Koike speaks in a good tone.
"Today, spirits and paranormal phenomena are also recognized as having a scientific basis, and ancient magicians from all over the world are also being recognized by the world as seekers who tried to unravel their systems. For us too, this is a great pleasure. My clan has also created the present form of star charcoal curse after every trial and error, and with its secret technique, it has served your country even though it is shady."
That's where Koike talked about it, and Yayumi's eyes became sharp.
"But that abominable mustard engine and its founder, Junko Yukioka, took us into the state in exchange for that."
Yayumi said in an angry voice, as if to take over Koike's words.
"For hundreds of years we have served this country. I have supported and protected this country from the shadows. But no matter how good the merits of the past are, the powerless are replaced by the powerful. It's an inevitable flow."
Koike has a solemn face.
"Then we will follow the currents in silence."
The little girl, who had refrained beside Ayumi, uttered a unique voice like she had turned away.
"You're right, Changko. To prove that we truly deserve to defend this country, and to show those who have humiliated us, all of the seven hundred years of wisdom and mystery of the Star Charcoal Flow spell."
"Yes."
Turning to the girl beside him, Changko Egawa, Yayumi narrowed her eyes and Changko raised her temper voice abundantly.
The ritual continues afterwards.