Afternoon, two twenty. Amamiya Rin arrived at Murata Yukichi's psychological counseling office earlier than the appointed time.
The office was located in Chiyoda Ward, in a rather unremarkable mixed commercial-residential building.
After Amamiya Rin rang the doorbell, the door opened soon after.
The man behind the door looked to be around thirty, his light-gray suit pressed and well-fitted, his frame upright and tall.
His features were not outstanding—the sort that would be hard to pick out at once if tossed into a sea of people—yet between his brows and eyes there settled a composure that surpassed his age.
His gaze fell upon Amamiya Rin, without deliberate scrutiny, never making one feel offended, and yet it carried an offhand penetrating quality, as though it could sweep past the surface in a single glance and see straight through to Amamiya Rin's heart.
"Hello, I'm Amamiya Rin."
Amamiya Rin gave a slight nod.
"Please, come in."
Murata Yukichi stepped aside, inviting Amamiya Rin into the room.
The interior was even more spartan than expected.
A wide desk, two chairs, a filing cabinet, and a few abstract line drawings hanging on the wall.
Light leaked in through the gaps in the venetian blinds, slicing out alternating stripes of light and shadow. There was a faint trace of sandalwood in the air, but it wasn't heavy.
Murata circled around the desk and sat down in the chair behind it, raising a hand to gesture for Amamiya Rin to sit opposite.
Leaning on his cane, Amamiya Rin walked steadily to the side of the chair and sat down, propping the cane against the edge of the desk.
Murata's gaze lingered on Amamiya Rin's face for a few seconds. He leaned his body slightly forward, the ten fingers of his hands loosely interlaced and resting on the desktop, and spoke in a relaxed, chatty tone.
"I can tell—you're under a lot of stress. Have you already developed insomnia?"
The question was put directly, but it was only natural.
The dark circles beneath Amamiya Rin's eyes were so heavy they almost looked like smudged ink; his eyeballs were laced with fine bloodshot threads, his skin lacking luster from prolonged insufficient rest, exuding a haggardness that would not fade. Anyone with the slightest powers of observation would have little trouble reaching this conclusion.
"Indeed. However, I haven't come because of my own stress. Senior Murata, I'm a hypnotist as well, and this time I've come specifically to seek your guidance—as a great senior—on Hypnosis."
Amamiya Rin nodded, getting straight to the point, his manner sincere.
"Oh?"
Murata Yukichi raised his eyebrows slightly and leaned back into the chair, the ten fingers of his hands crossed casually over his chest.
This posture made him look relaxed, yet it also carried a scrutinizing sense of distance.
"Seek guidance? That phrasing is rare. Most of the people who come to me hope to be treated, or hope I'll help them resolve some unspeakable problem."
In Murata Yukichi's gaze as he looked at Amamiya Rin, there flickered a trace of probing curiosity.
Ordinarily, those who came knocking claiming they wanted to seek guidance in Hypnosis were mostly challengers who had heard some rumors and felt unconvinced, or skeptics who half-believed and came to expose the fraud.
But this young man before him was different.
Though utterly exhausted, his attitude was unusually sincere, his eyes clear, holding no suspicion and no provocation within them—only sincerity.
This person truly was seeking guidance in earnest, without the slightest doubt about his abilities.
Now this was interesting.
Murata cast a glance at Amamiya Rin's leg—though it was blocked by the desk and couldn't be seen.
As the most powerful hypnotist in this world, Murata's powers of observation were also second to none; whether Amamiya Rin had a disability or not, he could tell at a single glance.
In his view, Amamiya Rin—who was clearly in perfectly good health, yet leaned on a cane and feigned the appearance of a disabled man—was highly suspicious.
Similar situations were generally deliberate disguises, meant to deceive the eye and ear, after which they would hire him to perform hypnotic suggestion on some enemy.
That was what Murata had assumed from the start, but Amamiya Rin's own account fell outside his expectations.
"Your sleep is severely insufficient. The muscle tension around your eyes, the slight dilation of your pupils, the baseline frequency of your breathing... all point to long-term sleep deprivation. You say you're a hypnotist, so you should be well aware that this state itself weakens the effects of hypnosis. You haven't even handled your own most basic physiological needs, yet you come running to seek my guidance? My advice is that you go back and rest. You're already very tired. What you need to do next isn't to study, but to forget everything else and have a peaceful, untroubled sleep."
Murata's tone was very casual, as though stating a fact that could not be more obvious.
However, in the flow of these seemingly ordinary words, Amamiya Rin keenly sensed that the texture of the other man's voice had undergone an extremely subtle change.
As if it had taken on a barely perceptible smoothness, flowing past the auricle like a frog being boiled in warm water, quietly seeping into the cracks of consciousness, making one unwittingly want to heed his advice.
This voice itself seemed to carry a magic that made people submit and relax.
Amamiya Rin quietly widened his eyes, a wave of astonishment welling up from the bottom of his heart.
In the span of just a few sentences, without using any props, without any communication, and likewise without setting up the environment, he could—relying solely on the subtle manipulation of his voice—naturally embed hypnotic guidance into the conversation?
This technique was already nearly magical, far exceeding the scope of traditional Hypnosis.
Murata's mastery of hypnosis had indeed reached an astonishing degree—truly worthy of a character who, in the manga, could hypnotize even ghosts.
"Thank you for your concern."
Were it an ordinary person, or even a generally well-trained hypnotist, under the saturation of this voice they would likely have long since let their spirit slacken, involuntarily agreeing with the other's judgment, captured by the drowsiness that the words induced, giving rise to the thought, "He's right—I really ought to go back and have a good sleep," and rising to leave accordingly.
Yet Amamiya Rin did not waver in the slightest.
He could clearly feel that voice, like an invisible layer of warm water, attempting to flood over the edge of his consciousness.
This sensation was peculiar—not violent, yet seeping into every crevice.
But his inner heart was like a reef. Having long contended against the mental pollution of the Tomie Network, and having honed his will through the long, endless dream, it had already congealed to an incomparable firmness.
Suggestion of this degree was like a breeze brushing past a mountain crag—aside from making him more clearly aware of how masterful the other's technique was, it had no actual effect.
Though Amamiya Rin's eyes were laced with bloodshot threads, his gaze was bright and clear. He looked at Murata and slowly shook his head.
"Senior Murata. But my insomnia problem cannot be solved by ordinary methods. It is precisely for this reason that I all the more need to seek from you the mysteries of hypnosis. I need hypnotic techniques of a higher realm in order to resolve the problem that causes my insomnia."
Murata's crossed fingers paused slightly.
A flicker of astonishment crossed his eyes.
This young man could actually resist his hypnosis so effortlessly?
Interesting. Very interesting.
Murata straightened his body, reining in the casual, languid manner from before, his gaze focusing intently and locking onto Amamiya Rin's eyes.
This young man had aroused his interest.
"Is that so?"
His voice changed again. This time the pace was slightly slower, every syllable seeming to carry a bit of weight, lightly rapping upon the listener's mental strings, producing a subtle feeling that his words were beyond doubt.
"It seems you're a bit more remarkable than I imagined. But I really do have no interest in taking on a disciple, nor the time to guide a peer who has already crossed the threshold and entered the hall toward further refinement. How about this? I know quite a few brilliant hypnotists and psychologists, and I can introduce them to you. They have rich teaching experience—unlike me, who has always been alone."
He paused briefly, his voice taking on a perfectly measured trace of sincerity.
"Truthfully, I'm not good at teaching. Although they all call me a genius, I'm not the methodical, step-by-step kind of genius. If you asked me to explain for myself what mysteries lie in my Hypnosis, I couldn't articulate it clearly either. At least up to now, no one has been able to understand my words."
Amamiya Rin immediately felt the difference.
The voice's influence this time had clearly intensified, like invisible fine needles attempting to probe into the crevices of his thoughts.
The euphemistic refusal carried a strange penetrating force, as if it were not transmitted through the air, but rather sounded directly within his skull, forcibly imposing his will into Amamiya Rin's mind.
Amamiya Rin's spirit swayed slightly, and a thread of the thought, "Maybe he's right?" nearly took root.
And in that very instant, Amamiya Rin drew a deep breath, a glimmer of calm light flashing in the depths of his eyes.
Dhyana—right mindfulness in motion.
The rhythm of his breathing was instantly brought under control; his mind, like an ebbing tide, drew in from the external world, contemplating his inner heart.
All the stray thoughts that arose, including the subtle wavering induced by the voice, in the lucid realm of Contemplative Sight, appeared clearly like bubbles on the water's surface, and were then seen through and dispersed.
The core of his consciousness was as steady as bedrock; though the influence of the external voice still remained, it could no longer shake it in the slightest.
Amamiya Rin still sat there quietly, but his entire presence seemed to have solidified by a layer.
Murata's pupils contracted imperceptibly.
He clearly caught that split-second change in Amamiya Rin's gaze, shifting from a slightly weary focus to a deep-pool-like calm.
The voice suggestion he imposed was like striking against a pliant, resilient wall, completely blocked outside.
Those unruffled eyes did not stir up even the slightest of the anticipated ripples.
The office sank into a brief silence.
The light beyond the venetian blinds slowly shifted, dust dancing soundlessly within the columns of light, and the scent of sandalwood seemed to grow even fainter.
Murata stayed silent for two seconds.
Then, he suddenly smiled—not in mockery, but with the curiosity and earnestness of someone who had discovered a rare animal.
"Fascinating. It seems I misjudged. You really are no ordinary man. I'm afraid that among Japan's hypnotists, there are only a few who are more excellent than you."
Murata frankly expressed his recognition to Amamiya Rin.
He was strong—one could say the strongest, without rival. Had he not received a good education from childhood and possessed a normal sense of morality, with his abilities he could have turned this entire country into his own playground.
This time, although he had not gone all out against Amamiya Rin, he had still seriously carried out hypnosis. Even many professional hypnotists and psychologists would fall into a state of suggestion under a few of his words.
And yet, with this young man, he had hit a wall.
____
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