Chapter 407: The Sacred Sakura Tree
"Darling, for the sake of our future child, of course I will take drawing the omikuji seriously." Camus suppressed a violent urge to roll his eyes. Hearing Vermouth call him 'darling' in that cloying, honeyed tone made his skin crawl, sending a phantom itch down his spine. Yet, on the surface, his expression remained flawlessly devoted, his eyes brimming with the tender affection of a loving husband.
This tragic, childless couple making their desperate pilgrimage to the Grand Narukami Shrine was nothing more than a carefully crafted illusion. Beneath the latex masks and mundane clothing were two high-ranking operatives of the Black Organization—Camus and Vermouth. After gathering intel that the shrine's fortune slips were renowned for their uncanny accuracy, they had fabricated this domestic tragedy as the perfect cover to infiltrate and investigate the grounds.
They strolled slowly up the winding mountain path, arms linked in a picture-perfect display of marital intimacy. The crisp mountain air bit at their cheeks, carrying the faint, earthy scent of moss and ancient stone. Ahead, a striking procession of vermilion torii gates arched over the stone steps, signaling their imminent arrival at the Grand Narukami Shrine.
"The scenery here is rather charming," Vermouth murmured, her gaze sweeping over the lush, vibrant landscape. She noted a scattering of wild birds resting on the stone lanterns, pecking at the ground with a distinct lack of fear toward the passing tourists. Her eyes narrowed slightly as a dark shape fluttered in the canopy. "There are even crows."
"It is likely due to the pristine mountain environment," Camus replied with casual ease. Under the guise of a tourist admiring the sweeping vistas, his sharp eyes carefully scanned the perimeter, mapping out potential blind spots and escape routes. 'Does that Inazuma Department Head really live here?' he wondered, skepticism gnawing at him. No matter how thoroughly he analyzed the area, it reeked of an ordinary, commercialized tourist trap.
The bustling crowds were composed entirely of mundane civilians. The occasional shrine maidens hurrying past in their traditional red and white miko attire moved with heavy, untrained steps—they possessed absolutely no combat foundation. Worse still, there was a complete absence of modern security. Not a single surveillance camera clung to the ancient wooden eaves. Was this entire operation just a wild goose chase fabricated by Glenlivet to waste their time? Even now, Camus fundamentally rejected the notion that a human being could survive for centuries. It defied every law of biology and science.
Vermouth, however, harbored a quiet, lingering trust in Glenlivet's intelligence. After all, she was a living contradiction to modern science—a woman whose face had not aged a single day in decades. She had witnessed the impossible miracle of cellular rejuvenation with her own eyes, and on more than one occasion. If her own stagnant youth was the dark fruit of classified biotechnology, there was still the enigma of Cointreau. To this day, Vermouth could not determine if Cointreau's eternal youth stemmed from the same chemical abyss as her own. It was precisely because of anomalies like Cointreau that the Master of Disguise reserved her judgment on the existence of the supernatural. Magic, however absurd it sounded, could not be entirely ruled out.
'Rum verified the intel using the portrait of Raiden Ei that Glenlivet provided,'Vermouth recalled silently.'Recently, multiple sightings confirmed a woman matching that exact description wandering the shrine grounds.' Therefore, Glenlivet's claim that the elusive head of the Inazuma faction resided at the Grand Narukami Shrine held obvious weight.
Yet, the tactical logic baffled her. Why would a high-ranking executive of a shadowy underground syndicate expose herself so brazenly in a high-traffic public space? Remaining stationary for so long was practically begging for a rival faction to launch a decapitation strike. Or perhaps... it was exactly as Glenlivet had warned. Perhaps her personal combat prowess was so overwhelmingly monstrous that she simply did not care if her location was compromised.
"We are here," Camus murmured, his voice dropping a fraction.
Stepping onto the final stone tier, the grand courtyard of the shrine opened up before them, framed by a stunning canopy of ancient cherry blossom trees. A gentle, sweeping breeze rustled through the thick branches. Thousands of pinkish-purple petals detached from their stems, swirling through the air like a chaotic swarm of luminescent butterflies before drifting gracefully toward the earth.
The floral cascade settled upon the surface of a crystal-clear pond nestled in the courtyard. The still water acted as a flawless mirror, reflecting the azure sky and the vibrant crimson architecture. Petals bobbed gently on the ripples, creating a dreamlike, almost ethereal atmosphere that momentarily silenced even the two hardened assassins.
Vermouth and Camus exchanged a brief, knowing glance, silently shifting back into their civilian personas before crossing the threshold. Just as they reached the main offering hall, they spotted a young woman in pristine miko attire diligently attending to a group of chattering tourists. Timing their approach perfectly, the disguised couple walked toward her.
A timid, slightly insecure smile bloomed on Vermouth's disguised face. She approached the shrine maiden with a hesitant posture, her voice soft and laced with a perfectly calibrated hint of vulnerability. "Excuse me, Miss... my name is Kana Yamada, and this is my husband, Kunio."
Vermouth lowered her head, allowing a faint, embarrassed flush to color her tone. "We heard from acquaintances that the omikuji drawn here are exceptionally accurate. We traveled quite a long way to seek guidance... I was wondering where exactly we should go to draw a fortune?"
Noting Kana Yamada's nervous demeanor and the subtle, supportive way her husband stood beside her, the shrine maiden's eyes softened with immediate understanding. Assuming the couple was praying for something deeply private—likely fertility or marital struggles—she respectfully refrained from asking any intrusive questions. Instead, she offered a warm, comforting smile and provided careful instructions on the location and proper etiquette for drawing an omikuji.
"Beside the Sacred Sakura... the omikuji box..." Vermouth murmured, committing the directions to memory. Nodding her thanks, she and Camus handled through the milling crowd, following the stone-paved path toward the rear of the courtyard.
In truth, they did not need the directions. Long before they reached the designated pavilion, the colossal cherry blossom tree dominating the mountain peak commanded their absolute attention. Its sheer scale and ethereal glow made it entirely worthy of the title 'Sacred Sakura'.
"It certainly does not look like something born of natural biology," Vermouth remarked, a flicker of genuine wonder breaking through her carefully constructed facade.
"The trunk is literally shaped like a giant fox," Camus muttered, the corner of his mouth twitching in dry disbelief. He refused to entertain the idea that such a bizarre, monumental structure was anything other than an elaborate, man-made fabrication.
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