Chapter Fifty-Five: Shuji Yamada

After a short while, Mio Ito, guided by the registrar, stepped into the inner sanctum of the “Temple of Law.”

Upon entering the main doors, she was greeted by a vast open space, each spot on the floor set with a straw mat—presumably for the devotees to kneel and sit upon during the ceremony.

At the far end of this open area loomed a massive stage, draped in red silk. Several staff members in uniform moved about on it, adjusting the sound equipment in preparation.

Behind these bustling workers, a gigantic painting, over five meters in both height and width, had been hung. It depicted the Blissful King of Salvation, with six arms and three faces.

“There are twenty minutes left before the Master’s sermon begins. You’ve arrived just in time,” the registrar explained enthusiastically to Mio Ito. He subtly extended his hand, hoping to take hers unnoticed. But before he could get close, the young woman folded her arms, her gaze fixed thoughtfully on the painted face of the Blissful King, ignoring his gesture.

“Will he… speak in front of that painting?” she asked.

“That’s right—though in our society, we call it a ‘sermon’ or ‘enlightenment.’ Mio, you…” The registrar followed her line of sight to the enormous painting. As he turned back to explain further, he suddenly realized the girl had vanished. Where she had been, there was now only empty air.

“Huh? …Mio?”

He turned his head this way and that, but no matter how he searched, there was no sign of her. In the blink of an eye, she had disappeared into the crowd of staff and believers, as if she were a cherry blossom swept away on the wind.

“How can this be?!” the registrar muttered, standing there, lost and unable to move.

…

Twenty minutes later.

The crowd had gathered. In the section closest to the stage, the society’s Council of Elders sat together like a board of directors, joined by various figures of wealth and influence. A little farther back, the devotees sat upright on their mats, eyes full of anticipation as they gazed at the colossal image of the Blissful King, awaiting the Master’s appearance.

Behind the devotees, figures patrolled—some in long robes, others among the security staff. Though their uniforms were immaculate, their steps and gazes were relaxed, betraying the familiarity of routine.

All eyes in the hall were now fixed upon the stage, eagerly awaiting the Master’s arrival. Spotlights blazed down, and the devotees held their breath, awaiting the divine manifestation.

Then—

“Om mani padme hum…”

A deep, resonant chant echoed from the stage. Suddenly, the spotlights went out.

In an instant, darkness fell. A gentle breeze stirred every hair, sending ripples through the hearts of all present. On the stage, only darkness could be seen; yet the face of the Blissful King remained visible, his ethereal gaze fixed upon the multitude from the shadows.

“Darkness shrouds the world at all times,” intoned the voice. “In the final days, calamity stalks humanity, and the people suffer disaster after disaster.”

The low voice resounded again. The elders and dignitaries closest to the stage sat up straight, each wearing a different expression. Farther back, the devotees on their mats and the staff at the rear of the hall looked deeply moved; some even began to tremble all over.

The wind howled mournfully, and in its sound, it seemed as if distant weeping drifted across the room, lingering in everyone’s ears and deepening the shudders of those who quaked. The stage grew ever darker, as if the painted King wished to vanish entirely into shadow.

“Affliction surges like the tide, engulfing all beings. Life and death are but a dream, with no escape,” the voice continued, sinking ever lower, as if it were about to be smothered, leaving only the faintest breath.

The atmosphere in the hall grew more oppressive. Silence reigned; all were drawn into the web of the illusion, immersed in the terror of the world’s impending doom.

And then, suddenly, the mood shifted.

“Yet, yet… the Blissful King descends at last, to rescue all from the sea of suffering!”

A hiss—

Prearranged jets of dry ice billowed out from either side of the stage, cloaking it in swirling mist.

At that moment, the painting behind the stage seemed to ripple slightly.

In the next instant, the lights blazed back on, and there, as if emerging from thin air, sat a man in a deep gray robe. His face was lean, his eyes piercing with intensity. Seated cross-legged at the center of the stage, he looked down upon the audience with a gentle, compassionate smile:

“I come into this world to proclaim the Blissful King’s path of salvation, to bestow supreme fortune upon you all. Congratulations—each of you has gained the chance to break free from suffering!”

As if to contrast with the previous darkness, the stage was flooded with light. The man at its center rose from his mat, arms open wide to the assembly, his eyes brimming with tears.

Thus did Shuji Yamada, Master of the Society of the Blissful King, make his entrance.

Beneath the stage, the hall erupted into a sea of applause and cheers.

“Long live the Master!” called the devotees.

Yet at the very back, among the robed staff who applauded with equal fervor, the registrar seemed distracted, his head turning this way and that in search of a familiar figure, but without success.

…

At length, the applause and cheers faded. With a gentle lowering of both hands from Shuji Yamada, the Society’s leader, the hall fell silent once more, returning to that reverent stillness.

All the devotees below were flushed with excitement, their eyes filled with faith and adoration as they gazed at Shuji Yamada, ready to receive his message with utmost devotion.

He took the microphone from the stage and walked to its very edge, his expression relaxed as he addressed the crowd:

“Once again, the time has come for our monthly gathering…

“Ever since I received the revelation of the Blissful King ten years ago and founded the Society of the Blissful King to announce the path of deliverance to the world, our ‘Pilgrimage Meetings’ have never ceased.

“As I have always said, the day of the world’s final calamity foretold by the King will come—now less than three years away. Many ordinary people, blinded by their own impurity, refuse the King’s revelation and even slander us, which grieves me deeply. But at the same time, I see ever more of you following in the King’s footsteps. From fewer than ten at the start, to the thousands gathered here today, and the tens of thousands of members across Japan, your devotion to the King is evident, and you will be saved when the day of calamity arrives. This achievement is plain for all to see, and the King is pleased. But I must not rest content or stop here…

“You are all wise people, capable of enlightenment. Yet most of the world remains unenlightened. Among them may be your brothers and sisters, your parents and children. Can you simply watch as they sink into the sea of suffering, denied salvation? We cannot allow this. That is why our society must continue to strive, to welcome more believers, to save more souls.

“Nor is it only Japan. We must go beyond our borders—to the Twin Dynasties, to the Dragon Kingdom, to America, to Europe… The salvation of the Blissful King knows no nation; anyone may receive redemption. Thus, the next focus of the Society of the Blissful King will be—hmm?”