At the rear section of Shimana Shrine, the group gathered inside one of the guest rooms that had temporarily been converted into a study space.

Several old scrolls lay across a table covered with clean white paper. Huashin had retrieved them from the shrine archive herself and, wearing a pair of white gloves, carefully placed each one beside the corresponding scanned copy.

Kinekama, who didn’t take a break, sat at the end of the table. A pair of reading glasses now rested on her face as she slowly swiped through the scanned scrolls on Yon’s tablet.

“Hmm…” she enlarged one section, and another. After several sections, she called Huashin to open the original scroll for her and crosschecked several sections.

After several minutes, Kinekama finally leaned back.

“Your idea is interesting,” Kinekama said with a reserved tone.

“I’ll take that as a good sign,” Yon smiled and said. 

Kinekama glanced toward Araka: “But if we’re going to combine these three techniques, I’ll need to create an appropriate realm for her to facilitate the training.”

Araka raised her eyebrows: “Realm?”

Kinekama looked over.

“Jinka.” she said, then wrote down the name on a nearby paper using her flower coloured pen:

境界

Araka’s mind remained blank: “…What’s that?”

Kinekama paused, then slowly, she turned toward Huashin.

“…Huashin?”

Huashin looked up from the scroll she just folded up: “Yes, Master Kinekama?”

“You haven’t taught her about Jinka?” Kinekama said, her tone becoming slightly more serious.

Before Huashin could answer, Yon intervened.

“Master Kinekama, that’s probably not Huashin’s fault,” Yon responded calmly. 

Kinekama looked toward him. “Oh?”

“SAIR Central follows the conventional training guidelines of the SAIR. While Matake is part of the curriculum, advanced techniques such as realm creation wasn’t discussed as extensively as we do in the Northeast subdivisions, especially those directly affiliated with the Otanaku clan.”

Huashin nodded. “I know what Jinka is, but I don’t really know if I could teach it to the interns. After all, there is also a security concern about mentioning high level Matake techniques to none-Matake-users, as the misuse of those could lead to great disturbance in our efforts to formalize the use of Matake.”

“That’s all true, Master Kinekama” Yon continued, “Even Araka is an unusual case to begin with — her Matake field came with her at birth, and her current ability wasn’t acquired through systematic activation and elementary shrine training. At one point, even we in the SAIR didn’t exactly know how we should handle that.”

Kinekama looked at Araka again.

“…Right,” she removed her glasses for a moment, “I was thinking of Araka as someone who had already graduated from elementary Matake training, but forgot she skipped most of it.”

Araka gave an awkward smile. 

Kinekama placed the tablet onto the table, and then placed her hands on her laps.

“A Jinka is a realm created by one Matake user and imposed—or provided—to another,” Kinekama said, “Within the realm, one could observe or alter the conditions of the other person’s Matake field through the manipulation of the other user’s Matake use pattern.”

Araka listened closely.

“In the context of training, for a Matake user to develop a systematic spell, especially those with fewer precedents, one must be trained within such realms to fine-tune their fields and make deployment predictable and repeatable without becoming self-harming.”

Yon continued: “The simplest way to think about it, is like how you use a VR headset for training in simulated environments — someone else controls much of what your eyes perceive.”

Kinekama nodded: “Except for a Jinka, it wouldn’t be limited to your vision, but also everything you experienced with your Matake field, and to a greater extent, your cognition — the room hasn’t actually disappeared, but your senses are being presented with a different environment.”

After hearing Kinekama and Yon’s explanation, Araka seemed more enthusiastic about the concept: “So if I spend enough time inside one, I could learn to use my field differently?”

“Precisely,” Kinekama smiled, “That’s why it’s useful for training — if your field has developed a particular habit, another Matake user can construct conditions that force you to perceive, react, or control it differently.”

Araka nodded slowly. It did sound familiar, she thoughts 

“But Master Kinekama, if you call that the use of Jinka in the spell training context, does that mean there are other realms that could be called Jinka?”

Kinekama nodded her head. “Jinka is the general term describing the realms, or an environment, that was generated by a Matake user through the manipulation of one’s own Matake field. While training Matake spells is, as I would say, a constructive use of Jinka, there are other uses of it as well, and some of them could be controversial depending on the context.”

Araka blinked.

“A Jinka can help another Matake user, but it can also restrain the other,” Kinekama said, “and a Jinka could be created with and without a formalized spell.”

Araka repeated the words in her mind, and suddenly Kinekama’s words clicked inside Araka’s mind.

She had seen this before — not once, but many times: 

The realm that explained Sarel’s backstory — the strange space Sarel created where the surroundings seemed to obey an entirely different set of rules — that separated Araka from the physical world of Division 2 Complex. 

Or the one created by Machi, one of the Milo agents,  where Araka felt herself being trapped inside it, and where her movement was constrained despite no physical page appearing in real life. 

Or even Ami’s before the “rewiring”, where she saved the boy in Ami’s mind and handed him the bear.

For all the things she had learned about Matake over the past year, Araka felt slightly embarrassed to discover that some of the strangest things she had encountered already belonged to a concept other practitioners considered elementary.

So that’s what those were, and how the shrines call it, Araka widened her eyes slightly and thought. 

“Master Kinekama,” Araka adjusted her posture and said, “I think … I’ve seen these before, and I didn’t realize there is a name for them.”

“Now we’re on the same page,” Kinekama smiled and said, “Araka, if you have anything that needs clarification, feel free to ask me while I’m in the shrine — because this time would be one of your few opportunities to receive direct teaching with an Otanaku elder.”

Araka nodded.

“Otherwise, I may still need a few moments to finalize some of the details of the training process,” Kinekama put back her glasses and said, “before that, I would need a few moments of peacefulness.”

—

A short while later, as Araka returned to the instructors, the lesson moved outside.

In the courtyard behind Shimana Shrine, Araka sat upright on a layered grass mat. The morning air was already growing warm, carrying the faint sounds of cicadas from beyond the shrine walls.

Across from her sat the three instructors, with Kinekama occupied the centre, and Yon on one side and Huashin on the other.

Araka looked between them: “Will all three of you be going to do this?”

Yon nodded. “We’ll construct the Jinka together,” he said while picking up a dark cloth lying beside him: “You’ll be blindfolded. Once the Jinka is established, don’t rely on what you normally consider sight.”

Araka glanced at the cloth. “Then what am I looking for?”

“Three things.”

Yon raised one finger.

“In the first sequence, you’ll enter a noisy summer market. Somewhere within it is the sound of wind.”

A second finger.

“In the second, you’ll be inside a bamboo forest at night. Find and follow the trace of a glowing golden bird.”

Then the third.

“And finally, you’ll enter a dry cave. Locate the source of water hidden somewhere inside.”

Wind, a bird, and water, Araka repeated Yon’s description.

Huashin leaned slightly forward: “And one important thing.”

Araka looked toward her.

“If you start feeling overwhelmed, like severe dizziness, distorted images, or you can’t distinguish the Jinka from your own field anymore, don’t force yourself through it.”

“So what should I do?”

“Kneel down and put both hands over your head,” Huashin demonstrated briefly, “If you do this, we’ll terminate the sequence.”

Araka nodded. “Got it.”

Kinekama then raised a finger.

“And one more rule.”

Araka opened her eyes wider.

“Try not to destroy anything blocking your way.”

Araka blinked.

“If you cut through an obstacle,” Kinekama continued, “we’ll have to regenerate that part of the Jinka, and  regeneration will interfere with its stability.”

Yon added, “Which means everything around you will become slower and less responsive.”

“So no shortcuts,” Araka concluded.

Kinekama smiled.

“Alright,” Araka straightened herself while Jinhui stood behind Araka with the black cloth, “I’m ready.”

Jinhui moved behind her and carefully secured the cloth over her eyes.

With her eyes covered, Araka closed her eyes and took a slow breath. For several seconds, there was nothing but the warmth of the courtyard beneath her and the cicadas beyond the walls.

Then, something shifted —  not around her body, but around her field.

Araka felt like the space surrounding her had suddenly stretched outward, while something else quietly folded itself over her perception. 

That … that’s exactly how I felt when I started building my link with Auntie Sarel’s field, Araka thought while sweat dripped down her face. 

Eventually, she no longer felt she’s in the gravel courtyard, but somewhere else entirely. 

After a few minutes of complete silence, noise struck Araka’s senses first: voices, footsteps, vehicle horns, distant rumble of engines — all converged in the space she was currently in. 

Araka opened her eyes, and then found herself standing in the middle of a crowded summer street market. 

Nearby, people  flowed past her in every direction. Colourful banners hung above narrow storefronts. Vendors shouted prices from beneath temporary awnings, while pedestrians crowded around food stalls lining both sides of the street.

“…Whoa,” she gasped.

She then sniffed around: the heat felt real, even the smell did.

Araka turned her head.

One stall sold grilled sausages, another displayed skewers of roasted meat. Beside it, a bakery window was filled with pastries dripping with melted chocolate. Further ahead, chocolate buns, chocolate-filled puffs and pancakes all lined up on the display in a cafe. 

Wait… something feels a bit weird. 

She looked around again.

Meat.

Bun. 

Chocolate.

More meat.

More Buns.

More chocolate.

“…Seriously?” Araka looked around and then put her palm on her face, “Instructor Huashin, don’t tell it’s you who designed this part.”

After letting out a small complaint, she put her thoughts back to the objective: right, let’s not get distracted. 

She stopped in the middle of the street and listened.

Conversations overlapped everywhere.

A child shouted from somewhere behind her.

Someone was bargaining loudly with a vendor selling keychains.

Cars passed beyond the market entrance.

A delivery truck sounded its horn.

But … no wind.

Araka frowned; that didn’t make sense.

She looked upward. The banners stretched across the street were moving toward the same side. A row of paper decorations fluttered beside a storefront. A woman’s loose sleeve shifted in the same direction. Even steam rising from a food stall was being carried sideways.

It’s indeed windy, Araka thought, yet — how come I didn’t hear any rustling or whistling between the buildings. 

Then, Araka put her hand beside her ear, and still, the same result. 

So how can I find the sound of the wind? Araka asked herself.  

Then, Araka remembered what Yon had told her earlier.

“Don’t rely on what you normally consider sight or sound,” Araka repeated the words. 

Then, Araka adjusted her stance and allowed her own Matake field to spread outward. Slowly and steadily, the market noise started to fade away, and a subtle but audible sound started to emerge. 

A long whistle came from the alley right beside her behind the sausage stall, followed by the sound of swirls around the corners.

Hey, I found you, Araka said.