I glanced at Itakura. His panic was genuine, not faked.
"Mr. Lu said you are a master from China. Having you here in person puts my mind at ease."
Itakura flattered me. I coughed lightly, speechless. I hadn't even agreed to stay yet, and my uncle was already selling me off like this—for this kind of work. Was that any way for an uncle to act?
I wanted to ask if someone had chopped the statue, but it sounded absurd. Besides, the crack was unnaturally straight—no ordinary person could split it like that.
I stayed quiet for a moment and studied the statue carefully.
I had never seen anything like it. I'd visited many temples in China, but this bizarre statue was a first. I had no idea what kind of deity Itakura was worshipping.
The statue was pitch-black, with two large fangs bared, eyes blazing in rage, and weapons in its hands. It looked ferocious. Rather than a Buddha, it seemed more like an evil ghost from ancient murals…
"May I use your phone?"
I asked. Itakura nodded repeatedly and led me to the landline.
The old man tactfully stepped away while I made the call.
I quickly dialed my uncle. When he answered, I whispered and asked what kind of statue this was. After all, he'd sold me as a "great master"—it would be humiliating if I didn't even know the deity.
"That's Daikokuten. He originated in India. Originally, he was an avatar of Shiva, the Great Shiva, in Brahmanism. Later he was absorbed into Buddhism and became an important guardian deity in Esoteric Buddhism. Most people in China believe in Mahayana Buddhism, so you rarely see these statues. Japan and Southeast Asia follow Theravada Buddhism more…"
My uncle spoke eloquently. He really knew his stuff, being in this line of work.
It made my head spin. How was I supposed to remember all that in one go?
My uncle seemed to understand."Cheng, don't worry about the rest. Just remember it's Daikokuten. You can learn the rest later. Itakura is superstitious. Just calm him down, and the job is done. I'll call the workshop and have them send a new Daikokuten statue right away."
I agreed and went back to Itakura, feeling a headache coming on.
Convincing someone—especially a superstitious person—was clearly a hassle. I'd never done this before and had no idea where to start.
Itakura was still in the same spot. He stood awkwardly, as far from the shrine as possible while still staying nearby, looking anxious. When he saw me, he visibly relaxed.
The room with the shrine had no sunlight, making Daikokuten look even more menacing.
I gestured for him to relax. Seeing he refused to go near Daikokuten, I simply sat in the hallway outside the shrine and started chatting.
After all, I hadn't studied Japanese professionally. The only use I'd gotten out of the elective was watching anime. Having a real conversation was tough, but I tried my best.
Itakura Naoki was patient. Knowing my Japanese was poor, he spoke slowly.
"Mr. Itakura…"
I had just started when Itakura waved his hands repeatedly, saying he was not worthy of the title "Mr."
I felt awkward, remembering how sensitive the Japanese were about titles. I quickly corrected myself."Itakura-san, I have a few questions. Please answer truthfully."
Itakura nodded eagerly and told me to ask anything. He would answer everything related to the statue.
"Have there been any other strange occurrences with the statue lately? Last night, did you hear anything unusual or sense anything wrong?"
This was my first time doing this. I racked my brain for how to ask, recalling conversations my grandmother had when I was little.
Itakura shook his head."No. We incense and clean the statue every day. There's never been anything wrong. Last night…" He thought for a moment and shook his head again."Nothing out of the ordinary. My wife is a light sleeper. If there had been any noise, she would have woken up."
"Has anything happened in this house before?"
Itakura froze slightly, then looked displeased."Of course not. To be honest, I run this house as a minshuku to support my family and host tourists. If something had happened here, no one would ever come."
I nodded."Then there's no problem. The statue cracking suddenly is most likely a natural occurrence."
"Natural occurrence?" Itakura asked, confused."What kind of natural occurrence makes a statue crack on its own?"
"Mr. Lu's workshop is quite dry, and the statue is made of clay. Your home is clearly more humid. A sudden change in temperature probably caused the material to crack naturally. This has nothing to do with what you're worried about. You don't need to overthink it."
"Is that so?" Itakura nodded thoughtfully, seemingly convinced. He hesitated and asked again,"But why is the crack so straight?"
"It's… just a coincidence, I suppose." I forced an explanation.
The conversation was difficult, but Itakura looked convinced, his expression visibly relaxing.
I chatted with him a while longer and completely eased his worries.As we talked, Itakura's wife, Masami, returned with a young boy. Itakura warmly introduced him as his youngest son, Maoto.
He added that the boy was quiet and asked me not to mind.
I looked at Itakura Maoto, then at the couple.The Itakuras must be in their sixties, but Maoto looked only in his early teens. That meant they'd had him in their late forties. These two really kept going…
Itakura Maoto didn't greet us. He kept his head down and walked quickly past.
As he passed, I suddenly noticed how pale the boy was—like he was sick, or… anemic?
Itakura's expression was helpless yet joyful."We had Maoto very late. To raise him properly, I have to work hard and run this minshuku well. I can't afford to slack off."
I smiled and nodded in agreement. It really wasn't easy.
Just then, the doorbell rang. Someone from my uncle's workshop had delivered the new statue.
When replacing the statue, Itakura still looked uncomfortable and stayed away. I didn't think much of it and stepped forward to take the cracked statue.
"Huh? Why is it so cold?"
The moment I touched it, the statue was icy cold. I didn't think much of it—until I heard a crisp crack. My eyelids twitched. I quickly tightened my grip to hide what had happened.
The statue… it wasn't just cracked. It had split completely in two, from the inside out!
Itakura was hiding something from me.
Jingle… jingle…
I was still thinking when I heard a clear bell sound.
I looked around confusedly but saw no bells. Then I realized—the sound had come from… me.
I quickly carried the statue outside and handed it to the workshop worker. Then I opened the shoulder bag my uncle had given me, took out a wooden box, and stared at two small bells strung on black cords.
"They… rang?"
I picked them up and shook them in confusion. Not a sound.
But I had definitely heard them. It was no hallucination.
These bells had been passed down by my grandmother. I remembered them clearly. I'd shaken them countless times as a kid, but they never made a sound, not even when clinked together. I'd always thought they were solid, made of some special material that couldn't ring.
If I remembered correctly, my grandmother had called them… magical artifacts?She said they only rang when they were meant to.And she'd told me, smiling, that I should hope I never heard them ring in my life.
A light breeze blew. I shivered violently, suddenly cold.
I turned and looked at the typical Japanese-style house. A bad feeling washed over me.This… was far from over.