I hate religion.
I don’t know when my vendetta started.
It doesn’t matter.
I've seen the end, and there's nothing interesting about it.
Just an endless abyss.
Damn, why did I let Amaterasu talk me into this?
Why does she even care how these fuckers worship her?
She should be glad anyone is.
Miyamoto and I decided to take one of our bikes to the cult's village because fuck walking.
I drove, and Miyamoto sat on the back.
This shouldn’t take too long.
Just a bunch of damn zealots in a town.
I’ve got a lighter and a flask of alcohol. That's all I need to burn a fucking town.
The sky was dark with yesterday's rain.
I couldn’t get the scene of me playing Moonlight Sonata out of my damn head. I used to play the piano back in the day. I must have stopped when Conrad and Tsuki died.
When was that—fourteen years ago?
I guess none of us ever get that whole parent/child thing, but hey, look at me now...
Whatever, none of that matters. I just wanted to talk about Moonlight Sonata as being one of my favorite pieces.
The roads were surprisingly nice. For this medieval shithole of a world.
My katana and wakizashi jostled a bit. I've got eight weapons on me now. I think any professor killer would see this many weapons as overkill.
I was starting to see this cathedral on top of a hill, around three clicks from where we were.
Do zealots think the bigger the building, the closer to their god?
My brain was bothering me, telling me to take a sip from my flask; it always does that on these long trips or whenever I can’t reach for it.
Or when I felt anything that wasn’t nothing or angry.
We finally made it to the hill with the cathedral. Two houses stood on each side of the cathedral
Two left.
Two right.
Each had a single story with thatched roofs and wood walls.
Back to medieval Europe instead of feudal Japan.
Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.
But the house was too clean… too clean.
Smelled odd.
Bothered me.
Almost sweet.
“Miyamoto… Never mind.”
The cathedral was bursting with noise.
A mass was going on.
“We shouldn’t draw our weapons until we know what’s happening.”
“V, I know that we aren’t butchers.”
“Yeah. Do we just go through the back or...”
The doors opened up, and around twenty to fifty people started to pour out.
“I guess that solves our problem,” Miyamoto said.
“That solves the problem of us not being seen.”
While pouring out of the building, more and more people started to notice the two people with katanas and wakizashis around their waists.
The crowd was starting to move around us, and we started to push next to each other.
“I hate people.”
“You hate everything.”
As the murmurs from the crowd grow louder, a man appears in front of us.
“Well, hello there, stranger. What brings you to our humble town?”
“God.”
Miyamoto whacks me with his elbow.
“We were passing through and wanted to see this humble town close up.”
“That’s wonderful; we always enjoy visitors coming and seeing our home.”
I don’t like it. I wonder how many times I'll say that before this is over.
“You…”
He looked at me from head to toe.
I guess he's never seen a person in a trench coat with long hair wearing a katana and wakizashi.
He seemed to get his senses back after a few seconds.
“You and your friend are allowed to stay as long as you want.”
“Thank you.”
The two men shook each other's hands.
The cult man's face never dropped that smile, cutting through his face.
He didn’t wait for mine.
Good.
“Our leader is in the temple if you want to talk to her.”
“Thank you once more.”
“I’ll be seeing you.”
The man walked away.
“I didn’t like him.”
“He did seem to know what to do with you.”
“Good, confusion is great when you confuse too.”
“We should see that leader.”
“Yeah,” I replied.
Even the air was dancing alone to this play.
But there hasn’t been something off, and that brought me the most unease.
I can’t shoot, stab, blow up, or dropkick the air. Never doing a dropkick again; it hurt like a bitch last time.
We enter the temple, where a woman stood behind an altar flipping through a book.
“Is that your holy book?”
“Are you two new to coming to this humble land?”
Are any of these people going to answer me?
“Yes, I told a man out front why we were here, and he told us that the leader of this town was in here.”
Is it the smell?
“Oh, you must have met Archibald. He is always so joyful.”
Maybe it's the hair?
“May I ask for your names, good men?”
“My name is Miyamoto.”
It can’t be the clothes… I don’t give a shit; I’m just getting bothered.
Miyamoto stepped on my foot.
“Ah! What?”
“She asked for your name.”
I took one good look.
“V.”
Don’t like giving my name out even if it's not real.
I saw “The Wicker Man” back in '98.
You can’t get me…
Or is that just my paranoia?
But even giving a name gives my gut a funny feeling.
Keyser didn’t even do that.
I never thought being shot would be a thing I wanted to happen.
“Miyamoto, I want one of their holy books.”
“Then ask them for it.”
“I believe they find me uncouth. So ask for one.”
“Ma’am…”
“Please, just call me Joan.”
Same.
Fucking.
Smile.
“Miss Joan, I seem to have grown an interest in what you people believe and would like to read your holy book.”
“I would love to, but the book is written in a pretty obscure language that only the people in the village understand… oh, and a few scholars.”
That woman took a look and me and changed her smile ever so slightly.
“You hear that.”
“Don’t worry, I just need a book that translates the language.”
“Miss Joan, don’t worry about the language. I would be able to understand your holy book if you also held a translated book.”
“We may hold such a book in our library. I can take you if you want.”
Jesus Christ, Amaterasu, if I were in a normal horror flick, I would have taken Miyamoto and me the fuck out. She did need to bring me back to life.
Fuck it, I guess we'll go deeper into this shit.
"Madness is something rare in individuals—but in groups, parties, peoples, and ages, it is the rule"—Friedrich Nietzsche.
