“Yes,” Oni said.
“You have asked for the purification ritual,” the priest said, confirming.
“Who would need it more than I?” Oni said.
The priest nodded. “It is my duty to guide you.”
“I have already bathed,” Ushi-Oni said. “What must I do next?”
“Put on your robe and follow me. I will show you.”
Ushi-Oni climbed out of the waters, pulled on a robe and put his feet into a pair of slippers. Clutching his folded clothes in one arm, he followed the priest on a path that took them back into the woods, away from the inn and up toward the shrine.
They traveled for half a mile, walking between tall stands of bamboo, until they came to a series of vermilion-colored gates known as torii. Each gate had two vertical posts, painted in the traditional red-orange scheme. They were capped by a black lintel with upturned ends from which oil lanterns hung, illuminating the path in a flickering light.
Beyond the first torii was another and then another. Some were old and dilapidated, others were newer. Inscriptions carved into them displayed the names of the families that had paid for them in hopes of securing good fortune.
“Is it true that the Tokagawa family once supported this shrine?” Ushi-Oni asked.
“Tokagawa?” the priest said. “No, I’m afraid that’s only a myth.”
They crested a hill and the path leveled off. Passing under the final gate, they arrived at the shrine itself: a small covered structure with an altar beneath it. A water-filled trough stood off to the side and two carved stone animals guarded the approach.
Ushi-Oni stepped toward it.
“You must wash first,” the priest said.
Ushi-Oni felt the sting of being told what to do. “I told you, I’ve already bathed.”
“The hands must be clean,” the priest said.
Reluctantly, Ushi-Oni placed his clothes aside and dipped his hands in the trickling water. The water was frigid, completely opposite to the hot bath he’d come from.
He pulled his hands out, shook them off and glared at the priest. “I’ve brought an offering.”
“You must rinse your mouth as well,” the priest said.
Ushi-Oni ignored the request and pulled out the marker chip that Han had given him. A marker that he’d chosen not to redeem.
“What is it?” the priest asked.
“A relic of my former life.”
The priest looked him over sternly, studying him like a disapproving schoolmaster. “Your past is a criminal one.”
And my future, Ushi-Oni thought. “I wish to escape who I am and reinvent myself as someone new. Isn’t that what you’re here for?”
“So it is,” the priest said. He picked up a ladle, filled it with water and handed it to Oni. “But you must rinse your mouth. It is required.”
Ushi-Oni had played the part long enough. He tossed the ladle down in disgust and stepped toward the old man, grabbing him by the loose vestments.
“You are possessed of an evil spirt,” the priest said.
“You have no idea,” Ushi-Oni growled. “Now, take me to the sanctuary. I wish to view what the Tokagawa family placed in your possession.”
The priest squirmed, but his feeble strength was no match for Ushi-Oni’s. “There is nothing there to see,” the priest stammered. “Nothing there for a criminal to steal. Just wisdom, which you reject.”
“I’ll be the judge of that,” Ushi-Oni said.