Trapped on a Terrifying Island, This Good-for-Nothing Just Wants to Survive

Guided by Airi, Genji ascended Mount Kakure.

Along the mountain path, row upon row of torii gates stood silently. Each gate was unique—some were painted delicately, while others, made of bronze and iron, shimmered metallically under the sunlight. There were also ancient stone torii gates, draped in patches of moss and vines, seemingly testaments to the passage of time.

This piqued Genji’s interest in Cicada Hiding Shrine, prompting him to ask, “Airi, how long has this shrine been here?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not quite sure myself.”

Genji chuckled and teased, “But isn’t Airi a descendant of Ghost Hunting Takehiko?”

“I’ve only been here for four years, and I’ve been busy practicing. I haven’t delved deep into this area. I only know that Ghost Hunting Takehiko descended during the Warring States period…” Airi pursed her lips, embarrassedly lowering her head, adding, “Yeh Island’s history is quite unclear, and many people are confused about it. Schools don’t really teach it deliberately.”

“That’s alright. It’s impressive how much Airi has learned in just four years.”

Seeing the girl’s embarrassed face, Genji couldn’t help but reach out to embrace her.

“Wait… wait a minute!” Airi softly exclaimed, her cheeks flushing, “I haven’t officially retired as a priestess yet. It’s better not to be too intimate in the shrine.”

“Hmm, Airi still can’t get over that mental barrier, huh? Even though…”

Even though we’ve already been intimate. Genji swallowed these words back down.

“There’s a strange sense of solemnity in the shrine, it doesn’t feel right for hugging or cuddling…” She hung her head even lower, eventually hiding her face in her long hair, “And, if my father were still alive, he would surely scold me harshly.”

“Then… does Airi’s father believe in spirits and deities?”

“It’s hard to say. Actually, from my father’s generation, the shrine started providing shelter for scholars who fled to North Yeh. He should have been open to modern science. But some traditional beliefs are deeply ingrained, hard to change in a short time. Even if he knew the likelihood of spirits and deities was low, he couldn’t help but have a sense of reverence.”

“What about Airi’s attitude towards spirits and deities?”

Genji instantly regretted asking the question. Discussing such a topic in the shrine might put her, a priestess, in a difficult position.

However, Airi wasn’t upset. After pondering for a moment, she answered seriously:

“Whether spirits and deities exist or not doesn’t concern me. They haven’t blessed our family. Even if they do exist, I lean more towards them being a kind of higher-dimensional intelligent being, which we could study.”

Pfft, I didn’t expect the “Divine Descendant” to think like that. Genji couldn’t help but laugh.

They chatted idly about literature, history, philosophy, religion, technology, and sci-fi movies, and then talked about future plans.

“Has Airi ever thought about going outside the island?”

“The port is only open to certain groups dispatched from outside the island, we can’t get a pass.”

Airi looked down, gently kicking a small stone to the side.

Hearing this, Genji frowned. What he had heard in the research institute in July came to mind:

“Ghost Hunting Takehiko doesn’t like people leaving Yeh Island at will. Those who leave without permission will be punished, unless they sign a contract with the deity, like luring more people to the island. It’s probably because the more worshippers there are, the stronger the deity’s power. Conversely, the deity weakens and may even fade away.”

But just a while ago, Mikawa-senpai told him that “Rakshasa ghosts” referred to people infected with a particular virus, and the blood of the Divine Descendant family, “Divine Blood,” could block this virus.

So, what role did this “Ghost Hunting Takehiko” play? Was the so-called “divine punishment” really his doing?

Finally, they stopped in front of a tall and upright circular torii gate at the midpoint of the mountain, next to a stone plaque bearing the name “Cicada Hiding Shrine” in solemn, dignified characters.

Genji looked up at the black-lacquered yew wood structure. A cat sat serenely on top, not fleeing at their approach. On closer inspection, the cat was actually a carefully carved sculpture.

Seeing Genji’s surprise, Airi explained, “In ancient China, cats were called ‘Cicada Catchers’. Maybe for this reason, they became the messengers of Mantis Takehiko, the enemy of the Cicada.”

After a moment of

silence, she mused to herself, “The mantis catches the cicada, unaware of the oriole behind. Is our family really the mantis? Then who is the oriole?”

2.

The shrine, nestled in the mountains, was surrounded by a lush “Guardian Forest.”

Passing through the ebony torii gate and over the stone steps led to a long approach. Lanterns lined both sides of the path, like devout attendants waiting for the deity’s descent.

A “priestess” cleaning near the water ablution pavilion saw them but merely bowed slightly before continuing her work.

“She’s also a student who escaped from the research institute, named Yuko Shimizu, a senior in preventive medicine, and also a priestess enthusiast,” Airi whispered.

“Eh? Shimizu-senpai, this morn…”

Before Genji could finish, Airi quietly interrupted, “Shh, let’s not disturb her role-playing game.”

After passing through another slightly upturned torii gate, they reached the main part of the shrine, which included the worship hall, main hall, offering hall, sacred dance hall, as well as smaller shrines, ema plaques, administrative office, and offering box. These seemed long unused for religious ceremonies but were well maintained.

The main hall, housing the deity, was enclosed by a sacred fence, off-limits to the general public. The imposing guardian dogs silently warned Genji.

“A shrine attendant once told me that the main hall enshrines a bronze mirror, revealing the deity’s appearance. Once, after father severely reprimanded me during practice, I snuck in and saw that mirror. Whoever looks into it sees their own reflection; you can’t actually see the deity.

“I don’t know the name or face of my ancestors. Father didn’t delve much into the legend of Ghost Hunting Takehiko. I only remember he went out every night to perform exorcism rituals. He said we needed to train well to better protect Cicada Hiding Town. After father passed away, there were many questions I couldn’t ask.”

Airi led Genji into the “forbidden area,” where indeed they found only an ordinary bronze mirror.

“Sometimes, I really envy Rika.”

“Rika?”

“Yes, Rika Furude from ‘Higurashi When They Cry.’ She’s also a priestess and lost all her family.”

“Oh right, I remember. But her life was so tragic, why envy her?”

“Our situations are similar, but Cicada Hiding Town has no cicadas and no cycles. Once people die, they’re gone, with no memory preserved to remedy in a parallel world.”

Airi sighed and covered the mirror again.

They left the main hall, heading towards the administrative office.

“I never considered myself a ‘Divine Descendant’ and questioned the myths of Cicada Hiding Town. But a world without deities is too cruel. Rika, with the help of the village deity, saved Hinamizawa with her friends. So, without divine guidance, what can we rely on to save Cicada Hiding Town…”

“Airi forgot? The bronze mirror in the main hall shows the deity’s true face.”

“But that mirror only reflects our own image, didn’t Genji see it just now?”

“Because there’s no deity in Cicada Hiding Town, or perhaps each of us is a deity…” Genji stopped and looked into her eyes, gently saying, “Rika succeeded not just with the deity’s help, but also because of her companions’ united efforts. Otherwise, she would have been trapped in endless cycles.”

A look of surprise crossed Airi’s face, but she quickly recovered.

“Right, I understand. Thank you, Genji.”

3.

Upon entering the administrative office, Genji’s gaze was drawn to the paintings and calligraphy on the wall.

One piece depicted a lone cicada on a withered branch with a poem written in slender, vigorous characters:

“Autumn brings desolation to all, yet the lone cicada remains undeterred. Rather sing like the spirited crow and die, than silently endure like the insignificant ant.”

The signature was Kiyoshi Kambe.

“That’s my father.”

Airi didn’t elaborate further.

Beside the former palace officer’s work, another poem, in a delicate and gentle script, read:

“Dew wets the gossamer wings, cold wind carries bitter songs. Wind hastens the fall of parasol leaves, nowhere to hide from the chill of autumn.”

Compared to the lone cicada that kept singing until death, this cicada seemed less resolute, more lost and sorrowful.

The third piece, in a script similar to the second but colder and more somber, showed dark clouds and turbulent waves lifting a lone boat. It read:

“Beyond the murky mountains and valleys, I heard tales of its mystic hue. Longing to sail away, yet storm clouds gather over the river.”

It was unsigned as well.