Master Nishihama arrived by video call at seven that evening.
He appeared on my laptop screen wearing a dark robe and a silver pendant. His background contained several shelves of books, a small arrangement of crystals, and a framed calligraphy scroll that I assumed was meaningful to people who understood calligraphy.
Akira sat upright beside me.
Mochi occupied the keyboard.
“Master,” Akira said, bowing his head.
“Akira.”
The soothsayer's voice was calm, measured, and completely devoid of surprise.
I immediately disliked him.
Not because he was rude. He was perfectly polite. I disliked him because he was the first person in forty-eight hours who seemed entirely comfortable with the situation, and this suggested that he would be charging us money to make it worse.
Master Nishihama asked Akira to describe his symptoms.
“My soul shivers when I recall the conversation. My cultivation has regressed. I sense a disturbance in my energetic field.”
“Have you experienced this before?”
“Never at this intensity.”
“And your astrological sign?”
“Sagittarius.”
Master Nishihama nodded.
“Understood.”
I leaned forward.
“Is there a particular significance to that?”
Both men looked at me.
Master Nishihama answered with professional patience.
“The astrological profile is one component of the assessment.”
“Right. Of course.”
He asked about Cassian.
Akira described the message, including the punctuation.
Master Nishihama listened without interrupting.
When Akira finished, the soothsayer folded his hands.
“This is a complex case.”
I nearly applauded.
Finally, a professional had acknowledged the complexity of a situation that had begun with a period at the end of a text message.
“Could Cassian be possessed?” Akira asked.
“Possibly.”
“Could he himself be the entity?”
“Also possible.”
I turned to the screen.
“Could he just be annoying?”
Master Nishihama did not even blink.
“Annoyance and malevolent influence are not mutually exclusive.”
I sat back.
I had been outmaneuvered by a man who charged four hundred and twenty dollars an hour to validate punctuation-related paranoia.
The consultation continued for another twenty minutes. Master Nishihama asked about Akira's meditation habits, his recent sleep patterns, his exposure to emotionally destabilizing conversations, and the general condition of his spiritual cultivation.
At no point did he recommend blocking Cassian.
At the end, he prescribed the mountain retreat.
Thirty-five and a half hours.
A rustic cabin high in the mountains near a lake.
A precise inventory of supplies.
Minimal luxury.
No unnecessary distractions.
And, apparently, a horse.
I asked whether there was any flexibility in the arrangements.
Master Nishihama considered the question.
“The conditions should be respected as closely as possible.”
“Even the horse?”
“The horse may have a specific role.”
“What role?”
He looked at me through the screen.
“That remains to be determined.”
I closed my laptop.
Akira looked relieved for the first time since Tuesday.
“We have a path forward.”
I opened the spreadsheet.
We had a budget deficit, a pending delivery of several dozen crystals, no horse, and a cat who had begun sleeping inside his carrier in what I interpreted as a preemptive protest.
But yes.
A path forward.