"Kyosuke?" a surprised voice called out.
I looked up. Walking toward me was a handsome young man wearing the dark official robes and black hat of a courtier. A warm smile played on his lips, giving him a natural romantic charm. In my old world, a guy like this could make a fortune just on his looks.
"Lord Yukinari," I greeted him with a polite smile. It was Fujiwara no Yukinari, a known figure in the court.
"Let's skip the small talk. I just heard about your suspension yesterday," he said, getting straight to the point.
"You heard already? To be honest, Lord Yasunori felt my weather forecasts weren't up to par, so he asked someone else to take over."
"That's strange," Yukinari mused. "Aren't you only responsible for our good and bad luck?"
"My duties on the calendar include climate and agriculture, yes, but with the recent trouble from the evil god, I could only focus on one aspect. The Bureau is very strict."
It was a beautiful little trap he'd laid, and I'd just walked right into it with my counter-trap.
"I think you're doing quite well," Fujiwara no Yukinari said with an inexplicable tone. "I always read your calendar very carefully before I go out."
"Thank you for the compliment, Lord Yukinari," I replied, my smile unwavering.
He was talking about Fangwei, the directional taboos for travel. With the popular "wife-visiting system," nobles were out every night, moving from one lover's home to another. Night travel was incredibly dangerous, with yokai and vengeful spirits roaming freely. Because a mistake could get someone killed, I was exceptionally meticulous with that part of the calendar, using bold red and black ink to emphasize the most dangerous directions each day. My work was an almost literal lifesaver. It was a monopoly on safety, and I knew it was nearly impossible for my replacement to be more thorough than I was. I wasn't panicking at all.
"So," Fujiwara no Yukinari asked suddenly, "the calendar I'm looking at today… was not drawn up by you?"
I gave a wry smile. "I resigned the day before yesterday. Today's calendar has nothing to do with me."
He pondered this, a calculating look in his eyes. Before he could speak again, a troop of guards in armor, holding short swords, marched up in neat steps and stopped directly behind him. Land Inspection and Collection Envoys. This wasn't a social call.
"This is…" I feigned surprise.
"Official business," Yukinari said softly.
"Since you have important matters to attend to, I'll take my leave," I said, turning and leaving without giving him a chance to respond. As I walked away, I heard him laugh, a short, sharp sound that quickly died as he turned his calm gaze upon the walled manors of Ukyo.
Isn't this political situation chaotic enough? I thought, quickening my pace. From ancient times to now, land and taxes were always a nation's biggest headache. The Heian period was dominated by the "manor system," where powerful nobles enclosed land, became self-sufficient, and simply refused to pay taxes to the central government. Yukinari was here to collect. Adding tax revolts to the existing supernatural and political chaos was just throwing gasoline on a fire.
Day 19
In the gray light before dawn, a loud crash from the backyard jolted me awake. I dragged my tired body to the scene and found a section of my back wall had been smashed in. Lying in the rubble was a small creature.
"So the old saying about 'sitting by the tree and waiting for the rabbit' is true," I said lazily, bending down to pick it up. "Looks like I'm eating well again."
"Waa—!"
A soft, childish scream erupted. I looked up, an indifferent half-smile on my face. The "rabbit" I was holding was a little girl with short silver hair, ruby-red eyes, and a pair of long, twitching rabbit ears. She was wearing a simple white kimono.
"Master Onmyoji, please show some mercy," a deep, dull voice rumbled from the darkness. A single, basin-sized eye flickered open in the shadows of the broken wall.
The little rabbit-girl looked up at me, her red eyes wide and pitiful.
I chuckled. "Alright. But next time you come over, I'm eating the cute bunny."
"Uh-huh!" she nodded frantically, like a chick pecking at rice.
I laughed again, and with a gentle toss, I threw her back over the wall.
"Thank you, Onmyoji!" I heard her say, followed by an excited whisper. "Hehe, Mr. Frog, the Onmyoji praised me for being cute!"
Their voices faded into the distance. I yawned and turned, raising a hand to wave at a silent figure standing in a dark corner of the yard.
Yukinoshita, who had seen the whole thing, said nothing.
Later that morning, I sat at my desk and, after a long hesitation, began to write.
[Gengchen month, Dingwei day. The moon is in opposition. A hundred disasters will arrive… the people will suffer many diseases, and the livestock will suffer from miasma.]
"What a turbulent time," I muttered, lying down on my side.
Outside in the courtyard, Yukinoshita was trimming the flowers and plants, her face slightly flushed from the sun, her expression intensely focused. And outside the gate, Ayanokouji Kiyotaka had returned. He was wearing clean linen clothes this time, and standing quietly behind him was a pair of identical, expressionless girls.
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