"Because this is merely the threshold."
Murata gave his answer, his gaze turning distant and profound, as if seeing through Amamiya Rin to that realm which, for now, he alone had touched.
"Once you can skillfully achieve observation, analysis, attunement, and entry, you can already surpass ninety-nine percent of the hypnotists in the world. But this path can be walked still further. Tell me—why must one always go to such pains to observe, to analyze, and then laboriously adjust oneself to match the other's frequency? Why can't it be... that the other's frequency comes, of its own accord, to match yours?"
"Can that be done?"
Hearing this, Amamiya Rin couldn't help but feel a flicker of alarm.
"Of course it can."
Murata's reply was concise and forceful, without a single superfluous syllable, as if this were a self-evident truth.
"So long as you use a specially designed vocal sequence containing gradient rates, paired with precisely controlled breathing guidance and a powerful, unshakable aura of conviction. It is not you accommodating his breathing, but guiding—even compelling—his breathing rhythm to draw toward the rhythm of your voice. It is not you fitting yourself to his brainwave pattern, but using the frequency of your voice as an oscillator to influence, synchronize, and even temporarily override the activity rhythms of systems like the mirror neurons in his brain."
At the same time, his entire bearing underwent a subtle change.
Murata did not deliberately straighten his spine or make any conspicuous movement; it was merely that his breath grew deeper, and an aura as stable as a mountain range and intensely present flowed forth naturally.
It was not the arrogance of empty bluster, but an absolute certainty in the path he walked and the abilities he possessed—the composure of one standing atop a summit, looking down upon the trail below.
Amamiya Rin could clearly feel that intangible aura. At this very moment, Murata was demonstrating his achievements to him through actual deeds; this was Murata's full power.
"When his physiological rhythms and the frequency of his brain activity, under your guidance, reach a forced synchronization with the frequency of your voice—at that instant, his consciousness is already invisibly under your control. Your will, your framework of suggestion, can then drive directly into the deepest depths of his consciousness with the least resistance."
That certainty was beyond question; such powerful confidence and presence forced Amamiya Rin to push his Dhyana to an even deeper layer, using Contemplative Sight to strip away the oppression on the emotional plane, and to analyze and reflect with absolutely rational thought.
"Voice, breathing, aura..."
Amamiya Rin murmured to himself.
In theory, it could be realized.
And it was strong—very strong, very fearsome, and very well suited to him.
"But it isn't easy, is it? Your theory, in the eyes of others, is only that—a theory, realizable only in theory."
Amamiya Rin asked Murata Yukichi.
There were far too many things feasible in theory, yet which often could not be put into practice due to all manner of difficulties; Murata's Hypnosis was one of them.
"For the mediocre, yes."
Murata nodded and said bluntly, the powerful aura about him drawing back slightly, returning to a conversational posture.
"Most of the hypnotists in the Hypnotists' Society are mediocrities; even if they spent decades, they might not necessarily be able to cross the threshold. After all, I am a genius, and a genius's methods are never suited to the mediocre."
As he spoke, the corner of his mouth curved into a faint smile, almost self-deprecating yet boundlessly proud.
Hearing this, Amamiya Rin gave a wry smile.
He wasn't sure whether he himself was a genius or a mediocrity—probably a mediocrity, because he didn't have Murata's talent for pioneering a method of hypnosis.
The attainment in Hypnosis he had today relied entirely on his cultivation of Dhyana and more than fifty years of time.
Even having reached such a level, he could still feel how difficult Murata's method of hypnosis was.
"Don't think too little of yourself, and don't think this path is unscalably high."
Murata, as if seeing through his thoughts, smiled and reverted to that composed psychological counselor.
"Even I did not accomplish it in a single stroke; I too walked out of it step by step, through countless failures and gropings. The so-called genius is, perhaps, merely the one who found the direction earlier and had the perseverance to walk to the very end."
"Your practice going forward must proceed in two steps. First, raise the resolution of your control over your own voice. You must seek out some basic vocalization and breath-control exercises, so that you can precisely perceive and reproduce at least twenty different qualities of sound—for instance..."
He pondered briefly and casually gave a few examples.
"A silken quality, a gravelly quality, a metallic-resonance quality, an underwater-muffled quality, and so on. Each quality corresponds to a latent emotional or cognitive tendency to guide."
"As for the second step, it is to carry out actual practice and experimentation upon the first. After you can finely and minutely control your own voice, you need to begin dynamically correlating and calibrating your vocal frequency with the target's physiological feedback. This is not simple imitation, but the search for that resonance point which can most effectively induce a tendency toward synchronization.
You will need to experiment, observe, and adjust through a great deal of practice. Failure will be the norm; you may even see no progress for a long time."
He paused, and said candidly.
"In this regard, I have a large quantity of notes and data accumulated from my own gropings in my early years, which I can provide for your reference, to spare you walking too many of the detours I walked.
But the most important part cannot be substituted for. Every person's vocal foundation and nervous-system characteristics differ; in the end, that unique path which can efficiently transmit your will outward must be groped out, verified, and solidified by your own hand, through practice after practice. Reading my notes would, on the contrary, mislead you."
"Also, it isn't only through voice, breathing, and aura—there are other factors that can enhance the effect of hypnosis as well, such as body language..."
Murata explained many key points in detail, but all of it was methodology; he did not intend to teach Amamiya Rin hand by hand.
As the saying goes: those who learn from me live, those who imitate me perish.
If Amamiya Rin truly had the talent and temperament to scale that peak, then he should be able to draw upon his theoretical framework, combine it with his own characteristics, and ultimately walk out a path of his own, leading to the summit.
In the depths of Murata's heart, he did indeed yearn for the appearance, in this profound domain of hypnosis, of a fellow traveler with whom he could truly discuss shoulder to shoulder and mutually verify—rather than yet another follower who could only trail behind him imitating his footprints.
Amamiya Rin nodded silently. He did not mind that Murata had not given him deeper help, because this path that Murata had laid out for him was already an enormous help in itself.
Undertaking advanced study independently might cost a very long time. But time was the one thing he had in greatest abundance.
Fifty years? A hundred years? The long Dream World would provide him with ample opportunities for trial and error and time for experimentation.
His thoughts reaching this point, Amamiya Rin drew a deep breath, slowly rose to his feet, and bowed slightly toward Murata Yukichi.
"Senior Murata, thank you very much. The path you have pointed out to me today is of immeasurable value to me. I will surely cherish this guidance and strive forward."
Murata sat behind the desk and calmly accepted this courtesy.
He looked at the young man before him, and a gratified smile appeared on his face.
"I look forward to it, Amamiya-kun. I hope you can walk out your own path as soon as possible."
"Yes."
Amamiya Rin replied briefly, took up the cane leaning against the edge of the desk, inclined his head once more in acknowledgment, then turned and walked toward the doorway.
____
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