Chapter 42. The Monster’s Physical Examination

Qiao Qiao was not an unhinged lunatic. He was perfectly capable of making sound judgments. There was no way he would believe that Suzuka was some prodigiously gifted yokai who could take human form in just three years. Nor that she had happened to be picked up by a group of yokai, conveniently brought to Tokyo, and then, by chance, exploited for labor by that very group. And as luck would have it, this group also just happened to stumble upon several other yokai similar to Suzuka. Together, all these naïve yokai were industriously contributing to the nation’s economic prosperity.

Qiao Qiao recalled something his boss had once said: in a world of strange phenomena, coincidence is rarely a good thing. In fact, those with spiritual power often experienced uncanny events. For instance, just when craving ice cream, one might pass by a Häagen-Dazs; or, by chance, carry an umbrella and then encounter a sudden downpour; or bend to tie a shoelace on the street and thus narrowly avoid a traffic accident ahead. Such premonitions have yet to be explained in rational, quantifiable terms. Different schools have different names for this phenomenon: in Shinto, it is called a revelation or divine sign; in Buddhism and Daoism, it is fate; and in Onmyōdō, this sense brought by spiritual power is amplified through divination, sometimes to the point of prophecy.

To be honest, Qiao Qiao most often applied this sense when answering multiple-choice questions. Even without thinking, picking answers at random with his eyes closed, he would get them all right. Quite convenient.

But back to the matter at hand. Precisely because coincidences in the strange world often carried the hint of spiritual guidance, the reverse could also be inferred: those “just so happened” incidents were most likely orchestrated.

“Miss Suzuka,” Qiao Qiao spoke up, “I’d like to examine your body.”

Suzuka and Miss Sakura both froze, cheeks flushing with embarrassment. Qiao Qiao, however, paid it no mind, having already given notice. His spiritual sight swept over Suzuka’s entire form.

After all, yokai do possess physical bodies, which are generally much stronger than those of humans. To put it simply, if humans use spiritual power to strengthen their minds, then yokai temper their bodies—almost like external martial arts. Imagine the eight-headed serpent, with such a massive body—if its bones and muscles were no stronger than those of an ordinary snake, it would be crushed under its own weight, unable even to move.

Thus, the consensus among professionals was that yokai could use spiritual power to reinforce their physical forms. This was also why Qiao Qiao believed that spiritual power could enhance physical constitution; humans just hadn’t found the right method yet. After all, humans are animals too.

However, there was something odd. After yokai take human form, their physical constitution becomes quite ordinary. To wield their true combat power, they must either learn to use spiritual power as humans do—or rather, yokai power—or revert to their original forms. Yet maintaining yokai form makes them susceptible to instinct, risking a loss of reason. This remains an unsolved mystery in academic circles.

Qiao Qiao took three seconds to examine Suzuka. Her development was decent, she had some stomach troubles, but was otherwise very healthy. And indeed, she was a doe. No, that wasn’t the point. The point was that Qiao Qiao discovered Suzuka’s yokai age—or bone age—was truly less than three years. She was telling the truth. The Exorcist Association’s records were also highly reliable. That left only one answer: there was something strange about Suzuka’s transformation.

“Miss Sakura, as I recall, yokai grow by long-term absorption of spiritual power, correct?” Qiao Qiao confirmed, knowing that Miss Sakura, with her formal training, would be more knowledgeable in such matters.

“Yes, in areas rich in spiritual energy, even vegetation absorbs it, and animals that consume these spiritually imbued plants gradually accumulate spiritual power within themselves, eventually undergoing a qualitative transformation.”

Miss Sakura, though shocked, quickly regained her composure—she was, after all, a trained Exorcist Association staff member.

“So, if an animal that’s already accumulated some spiritual power is injected with a large amount of it in a short time, could the process be accelerated?” Qiao Qiao’s question made Miss Sakura pause, sensing a hint of danger in his line of thinking.

“…Theoretically, yes, but an animal’s body has limits. Injecting a large amount of spiritual power in a short time could alter its very life form, or more likely, result in instant death,” she explained. “Moreover, the energy loss would not be worth it. Unless… one used a great quantity of pure, high-quality spiritual power. Then, maybe…”

This idea wasn’t Qiao Qiao’s own invention. In ages past, yokai had tried the same. As they battled the ever-growing number of humans, they too sought to mass-produce disposable yokai this way. Yet successes were few—the cost was just too high. Creating a single yokai this way used up enough spiritual power to launch a large-scale attack on humans. It simply wasn’t worth it. Just as humans couldn’t inject everyone with spiritual power to defend against yokai, yokai couldn’t mass-produce their kind either. Thus, the world maintained a delicate balance.

“A great quantity of pure, high-quality spiritual power…” At that phrase, Qiao Qiao and the others almost simultaneously thought of the same thing: the Jewel of Four Souls.

If the yokai had created the Jewel of Four Souls, and used it to refine large amounts of pure, high-quality spiritual power, and then injected that into animals—could they not complete in a short time the life-altering process that would take other creatures a hundred years? Qiao Qiao’s mind raced ahead. Then, he wondered: what if such purified spiritual power from the Jewel of Four Souls were used to enhance the human body?

No—Qiao Qiao stopped himself. Any further, and the subject would no longer be a matter for humanity. It should not be a matter for humans.

“In any case, the organization that confiscated Suzuka’s residence permit, exploited yokai… even created these yokai, is extremely dangerous,” Qiao Qiao concluded.

“I’ll issue a special dispatch immediately,” Miss Sakura understood at once. She rose and returned to the reception hall.

A special commission would involve several exorcists, and also contact the police, the Onmyō Bureau, and the Fire Department. However, with it being Golden Week, mobilizing personnel would take some time. To prevent the yokai from catching wind and escaping overnight, Miss Sakura also sent the request to several exorcists currently at the Shinjuku branch, asking them to join Qiao Qiao in the preliminary investigation.

In less than fifteen minutes, three exorcists had gathered in the reception hall: Master Gyōmyō from Zōjō-ji Temple, Takeya Katō from the Onmyō Bureau and his disciple Yūma Yamashina. They each belonged to their own organizations and worked part-time for the Exorcist Association. With Qiao Qiao, that made four—ready to scout ahead.

Then the question arose: where exactly was this yokai organization? All eyes turned to Suzuka. The three-year-old little yokai shivered and gave them an address—not far from here.

But when Qiao Qiao checked the location on his map app, he looked up. “Miss Suzuka, you mentioned being forced to work for this group—may I ask, what kind of work was it?”

“Well, I… I was a virtual streamer,” Suzuka answered shyly.

Qiao Qiao double-checked the yokai group’s headquarters. It was located in a tech park in Bunkyō Ward, and the building in question happened to house a virtual streamer company.

A silence fell. Several exorcists found themselves bewildered, question marks practically popping up over their heads.