Chapter 1: The Yamagami, Renovation Enthusiast

It was the season where the breeze carried the scent of fresh verdure. Lush trees blanketed the Yamagami’s mountain beneath the clear blue sky, and every plant seemed to smile and rejoice in this most vibrant time of the year.

Kusunoki’s garden of gods had been filled with the same colors as its neighbor.

Nestled among the garden’s gentle curves was a gourd-shaped pond. An arched stone bridge. Two stone lanterns. A small trail of stepping stones. These essential components of every Japanese garden had been placed with superb elegance.

One feature that was slightly more unique, however, was the natural onsen giving off steam in a corner of the garden.

Rows of bushes complemented the landscape like A-list supporting actors.

Those low bushes quietly began to move.

The ones surrounding the pond and along the path leading to the rear gate started edging closer to the wall, soil and all. Eventually, they all settled around the perimeter. Only a few neatly arranged bushes remained.

Anyone seeing this landscape composed mostly of stones would feel that something was lacking. The absence of the divine camphor tree that had, until recently, dominated the center of the garden only intensified this sense of loneliness.

That same camphor had sprouted again, but it was still very small, a young sapling protruding from the middle of a mound of exposed dirt.

It rustled its three leaves, proudly proclaiming its existence.

Minato Kusunoki watched all of this from the veranda.

By his side, naturally, was the great white wolf, sitting as majestically as a king in their castle. Even with the awning covering it in shade, its pristine fur shone brilliantly.

The Yamagami lived next door to the Kusunoki residence, yet today as always, it dominated the middle of the veranda as if it were entitled to the spot. After enjoying some post-lunch sweets, it had suddenly declared, “It has been getting hotter of late. What say you we make some changes to the garden?” and set about doing some renovating.

The Yamagami cast its golden eyes over the pond.

Instantly, the large and small stones around the water feature moved. The gourd shape distorted and stretched.

In just a few seconds, the pond had changed to a river bisecting the garden. The stones arranged themselves congenially along its winding path, while the large rock that usually served as Reiki and Oryu’s perch relocated to near the wall.

The kirin’s beloved arched stone bridge gracefully spanned the center of the water.

The Four Spirits, leaders of the four classes of animal, had been either directly or indirectly saved by Minato. Weakened after succumbing to the power of evil spirits, their time relaxing in the garden of gods had rejuvenated them, with Reiki, Oryu, and the kirin regaining most of their powers.

They had all recently molted, too, magnificently altering their appearances.

Only the ho’o was yet to regain its power. It was currently spending another day asleep in the flame housing of one of the stone lanterns.

The Yamagami’s gaze shifted once more.

This time, the path of stepping stones quietly began to move, spacing themselves out evenly to form a path leading up to the bridge. You would now have to cross it to get to the rear gate.

Next, the great wolf traced the waterway with its eyes. As it did, water began to flow down the river, even though it was capped on both ends by walls.

Minato stared at the wall with the mountain towering behind it. He couldn’t hear even the slightest sound of running water coming from outside the garden.

“Where does the water come from, and where does it go…?” he mumbled unconsciously.

The Yamagami let out a low chuckle. “Would you really like to know?”

“…No, I’m good.”

He didn’t need to understand every last secret. There was no sense in knowing too much.

The bushes moved from their refuge at the edge of the garden, spreading out to take up their new positions. A few moments later, they settled to the ground, and the strange sound of moving dirt quieted.

And with that, the garden’s renovation ended without issue.

“The garden gives off quite a different impression now that the pond’s changed into a river.”

“It is nice, is it not?”

“Yeah. The running water makes it feel so cool and refreshing.”

The onsen, meanwhile, had stayed put in its corner of the garden.

Having observed the garden’s transformation, Minato looked down in front of him. The Yamagami had become a little smaller. It was now the size of a large dog, roughly as big as Minato himself.

It had shrunk again.

“I knew it…”

A small sigh escaped Minato.

The shrinking was a side effect of the Yamagami using its power to renovate the garden. It had recently changed the trees back to their original form as well, after transforming them into cherry blossoms the month before. Its current size undeniably came from the successive use of its divine power.

“I told you to take it easy for bit …”

He’d tried to stop it before it transformed the pond, but the obstinate Yamagami had barreled on ahead anyway.

The great wolf surveyed the garden seriously, not caring a whit about its shrunken form.

They weren’t even in the rainy season yet, but the days had been as hot as summer. Hence why the Yamagami seemed to have wanted to get a jump—or, maybe, a leap—on making the garden summery.

“…Hmph. The garden is still somewhat plain… Something more is needed.”

Apparently, the kami—who was incredibly particular about the garden view—didn’t quite care for the renovation. It cocked its head in dissatisfaction.

Minato’s brow furrowed. “It’s a pretty drastic change. It might look different, but the garden’s as beautiful as ever.”

“Hmm, and yet…how can I put it…? It does not feel quite right. Something is slightly amiss.”

“So, you don’t like it?”

“I feel as if…it lacks something.”

Apparently, the Yamagami itself didn’t even know. It looked around the garden, and as it did, the banks of the river widened and narrowed, causing the settled trees and stones to start moving as well.

“The river needs to be more… Should I move it closer to this side…? Nay, should it curve more…? Right. No, left.”

As the Yamagami spoke, the river bent and contorted, twisting this way and that. And each time, the wolf shrank a little more.

“…Hmph, still I am not satisfied. Is the problem that there is only one river? Perhaps it should branch in the middle to form two…”

The center of the river split—and at that moment, the Yamagami’s outline shimmered like a heat haze.

Then the little wolf started turning translucent.

Minato could see through its body to the garden behind. The Yamagami had clearly used too much divine power.

Minato panicked.

“Yamagami, down! Heel! That’s enough!”

The Yamagami didn’t know commands, so he’d had to rephrase it.

Minato knew that trying to tell the Yamagami what to do was like yelling at a brick wall, but he’d had to try something. He rarely yelled, and his voice echoed loudly throughout the garden.

The Yamagami blinked, then nodded deeply, as though it had just realized something.

“Ah yes, sound. There should be more sound coming from the water.”

“…Wait, that’s it…?”

The Yamagami cast a quick glance at Minato. “This is the final time.”

So it had heard him.

Right now, the Yamagami was about as big as a medium-sized dog. It lifted its small front legs up, then thumped them down on the cushion.

Two tall, thin boulders with sheer sides emerged from the wall that bordered the rice fields. Water fell forcefully from the space between their tops.

A small waterfall had suddenly appeared in the garden.

It was a modest size, but that didn’t change the fact that it was still a waterfall. The cascading water produced a pleasant noise that was neither too loud nor too quiet.

Mist rose from where the water met the river’s surface. Standing nearby would invigorate you with the spray of alkaline water.

A gentle spring breeze blew ceaselessly through the garden of the Kusunoki residence, carrying with it the lush scent emanating from the Yamagami. And now, the garden sported a waterfall.

It had become easier than ever to relax in the garden of the gods.

However, the Yamagami…

Minato turned from the waterfall to look back in front of him. The wolf’s head wasn’t at its usual height. Casting his gaze down toward his feet, he found those golden eyes.

“…You’re back to being chihuahua size…”

“I am a wolf.”

“I know.”

Minato let out a heavy sigh and squeezed his hands together on top of the table. The last time the Yamagami had been transparent was when they’d first met the previous year.

It was heart-wrenching.

That was why, despite knowing that the Yamagami wouldn’t disappear no matter how much its divine power weakened, he couldn’t be completely enthused about the changes to the garden.

“Why would you go so far to renovate this place?”

No one could blame Minato for the sharp edge to his tone.

“I simply harmonized it with the season. We have a private garden, so why not create a beautiful one?”

“But you’re letting your mountain grow wild…,” Minato said, letting his true thoughts slip out.

The Yamagami cocked its head in bewilderment. “The things in nature are beautiful precisely because they are in their natural state.”

“Uh, sure… I get your meaning.”

Arranging natural trees and grass to be aesthetically pleasing was nothing more than human selfishness. From nature’s point of view, it was unnecessary meddling.

The kami who had bestowed Minato with a new power a few days earlier seemed to feel the same way.

Not too far from the Kusunoki residence was a run-down shrine that connected to her realm. Minato had been pulled into it as he walked by, then cleaned up the realm at her request in order to leave. When he was finished, the kami had granted him her power as thanks.

With that power, he could seal away things that the eye couldn’t see, such as emotions and strange abilities. Although he hadn’t mastered it yet.

Anyway, plants had covered every inch of ground outside the entrance to her kami realm. The shrine was so overrun that people might reflexively avoid it, but the goddess didn’t care in the least.

Minato had inquired previously about the ruined shrine, but the Yamagami had told him it wasn’t a problem and that he should leave it alone. It had ended with the unsettling warning that, for his own good, he shouldn’t restore it unless asked.

So Minato had never returned.

Not doing anything at all did bother him a little, though. He considered going back to visit the goddess once he’d mastered the power she granted him.

Minato was now being pulled toward kami realms, due to the fact that he was a human who lived inside a kami realm and bathed in a divine onsen every day. He was even more easily drawn into realms made by kami he shared an affinity with.

The Yamagami looked from one side of the garden to the other again, then grunted in satisfaction. Its tail flitted lightly.

“Good,” the wolf murmured happily.

It lay down and rested its chin on folded paws, the gigantic cushion highlighting the Yamagami’s diminished size.

“…Yamagami, are you feeling okay?”

“Perhaps I should ask you. Does something seem the matter with me?”

Minato examined the wolf for a while, but its body was no longer transparent. A faint glow enveloped it, just as it did when the Yamagami was larger, and each flick of its tail sent rays of light streaming out behind it.

“You’re shining like you always do,” Minato said, a hint of disbelief in his tone.

The Yamagami closed its eyes as a faint smile crept across its face. Its current wolf body was simply a manifestation of its true form, the mountain.

It didn’t feel physical pain or discomfort. So, shrunken down, transparent—it was all the same to the Yamagami.

As he gazed at the drowsy wolf sunk deep into the cushion, Minato heard faint footsteps on the dirt. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw the kirin near the veranda. It had fled to the roof just before the Yamagami’s renovations started and had only just come down.

The kirin gestured with its head toward the rice fields—the sign that it was leaving. It frequently traveled out into the world to visit a wide variety of places and observe humans.

Unlike Reiki or Oryu, the kirin rarely stayed in one place for long.

“I’m going somewhere far away. I still haven’t finished exploring the lands to the west. Make sure to lock the door while I’m away. We’re not close to town here, but these days…”

The kirin shook its head as if to comment on the sorry state of the world, its long whiskers swaying in time.

“No, it’s always been true that you can find those with rotten hearts anywhere. Some nefarious people even target places out in the countryside. Oh yes, I’ve witnessed all sorts of foul acts, and I know them well. So, please, be careful.”

Minato didn’t hear the kirin’s protracted farewell. To him, it simply looked lost in thought.

“You’re heading out, then, Kirin? Take care.”

The kirin nodded briefly. “I will. Please look forward to the gifts I’ll bring back with me.”

Reiki emerged from underneath the veranda where it had hidden during the renovations. “Make sure you do not bring back anything that smells bad.”

It scrunched up its face, recalling the stench of the durian the kirin had brought into the garden before.

Minato, who knew nothing of the durian incident, thought it was rare to see the turtle looking so agitated.

Reiki ambled toward the river. A tiny waterfall flowed from the mountain it carried on its back, but no water ever splashed over the shell.

The kirin turned to watch Reiki’s back as it walked away and sighed.

“Reiki, you shouldn’t decide you don’t like something without even trying it. It is personal experience that gives words weight.”

“You don’t say,” Oryu muttered apathetically from atop one of the two lanterns.

The kirin cast it a disdainful look, but Oryu seemed wholly unbothered. Instead, it noiselessly spread its wings and slipped away, following Reiki. These two antagonistic auspicious beasts irritated each other often, but their bickering usually didn’t devolve into violence.

The kirin stomped the ground in frustration, then leaped over the wall in a single bound and disappeared toward the mountain.

Having witnessed the entire exchange, Minato asked the question that suddenly came to mind.

“Do Oryu and Kirin not get along…?”

“Nay, they are simply playing,” answered the Yamagami.

Minato looked over to see the small wolf curled up on its cushion, eyes closed.

“We long-lived beings have so much free time that we sometimes feel the urge to fight to our fullest.”

“Really?”

“Indeed. Having an opponent of roughly equal rank is, in some ways, a joyous thing.”

The slight bitterness behind those words concerned Minato.

A pink pearlescent light shone from inside the stone lantern Oryu had just been perched upon. Within that strong, pulsing glow slept the ho’o.

It was still the size of a chick, small enough to fit in the palm of a hand. Although the ho’o showed no signs of growing larger, it seemed to be doing fine. It had been in there for a while now, so it was expected to emerge soon.

Another stone lantern stood beside the first, its dark flame housing shut tight.

A divine spirit slumbered inside.

It was the remnant of a spirit that had once been summoned by a human and embedded into an ancient sword, only to be eventually discarded on the side of the mountain along with a bunch of old, illegally dumped appliances. The divine spirit had transformed into a corrupt kami that hated humans because they had forcefully trapped it inside the sword, not worshipped it properly, and failed to treat it with respect.

Minato had returned home with this divine spirit after being drawn into the corrupted kami realm. It had been purified by the Yamagami and provided with a new yorishiro to house it, thereby keeping its existence from flickering out.

They had placed it inside the flame housing because it needed sleep, but since then, nothing had changed.

Minato got down from the veranda and examined the stone lantern. Although it didn’t react no matter who approached, he generally tried not to get too close and had determined that the best thing to do was not to disturb it. As part of the human race it so detested, there was no guarantee that it would accept him with open arms.

“I hope it gets used to this place like the kirin has,” Minato said to himself as he crossed the path, watering can in hand.

He was headed for the center of the garden, where the young camphor sapling frolicked in the wind. It was so small that he could easily cover it with one hand, and so flimsy, it seemed more like a blade of grass than a sprouting tree.

Two of its three young, light-green leaves flapped like the wings of a bird as it swayed in the breeze.

The camphor tree had allowed itself to be cut down because Minato hadn’t been able to use the wind power granted to him by Fujin.

Kami realms are domains created by divine power. No mere human could destroy one.

But Minato could.

The wind he released contained Fujin’s divine might. Minato hadn’t been able to draw much of it out, though, and his gusts had contained only a trace amount of that power.

Now that Minato was being drawn toward kami realms, Fujin had taught him how to use it properly so that he could escape them unassisted. The lesson had involved having Minato chop down the camphor tree, which was like a child to him.

The camphor was a special tree. A divine tree. Neither natural wind nor human blades could touch it.

And yet it had happily offered itself up for Minato.

It’d been such a noble sacrifice—though not precisely a sacrifice per se, since it was growing back. The camphor had reverted to a seed, sprouted again, and was now as lively as ever.

However, the dirt around it was dry even though Minato had given it plenty of water this morning.

He filled the watering can with divine water from the river and sprinkled it over the camphor. The light-green sapling soaked up the water, and the color deepened. Its young leaves quieted with each shower of light rain.

It was concentrated on drinking.

The small watering can emptied quickly, and the ground dried out almost immediately, so Minato gave it a second, then a third can of water. As much as he might want to explore the changes to the garden, now wasn’t the time. The thirsty camphor came first.

After the tenth can, the soil stayed damp.

“…Have you finally had enough?”

The camphor’s three leaves reached straight up to the sky, as though it was saying it was happily full. It conveyed its feelings even more now than it had before.

The sacred tree seemed to be evolving, but the only thing that mattered to Minato was that it was healthy.

Lately, however, the camphor seemed to require an abnormal amount of water. Worried about root rot, Minato had asked the Yamagami about it, but the kami had told him to give the camphor as much water as it wanted. So that was what he’d been doing.

Minato held up the empty watering can.

“Maybe I should buy a bigger one…”

The young leaves trembled. The camphor seemed guilty at hearing this comment, but Minato flashed it a reassuring smile.

“We’re going to need more things anyway, so don’t worry.”

The watering can he was currently using had come from the shed, which sat unobtrusively in one corner of the garden. When Minato eventually said goodbye to the house, he could just leave the bigger watering can next to this one.

He pondered this idea, not realizing that day would never come.

The iron wall of kami stopped every potential buyer, defeating them one by one as the Yamagami, Fujin, or Raijin forcefully invited them into a kami realm.

No matter how much time passed, a buyer wouldn’t appear.

“I guess I should start by exploring the garden.”

As the caretaker, Minato needed to stay informed about his charge.

He walked toward the rippling waterfall.

The outside world crept toward summer, and the plants grew more vibrant. The powerful sun shone ceaselessly in the sky above the Kusunoki residence, its light soaked up by the camphor trees surrounding the house and the foliage on the mountain.

Yet the garden of the gods stayed wrapped in the embrace of spring. As the trees in the yard and the sacred camphor swayed in the breeze, it almost looked as if they were dancing.

Chapter 2: An Endless Stream of Visitors

The pond had transformed into a large winding river.

Just wide enough to prevent Minato from crossing it in one bound, the sharp curves of the river meant it flowed at different speeds. Water rushed through the relatively straight riffles, but slowed in the pools where it curved.

Minato moved upstream, observing the bed of the river as he walked. Pebbles tumbled through the riffles, piling up higher in the pool sections, which also included a few larger rocks. It seemed the riverbed had purposefully been made to rise and fall so the water flowed as it did in nature.

“What attention to detail.”

Impressed, Minato approached the second curve. As he did, the seagrass growing in the river gradually got taller and thicker.

He could guess what lay inside.

“Is the gate okay…?”

It poked out from between the gaps of the swaying reeds.

The crimson and white Ryugu Gate stood proudly in the watery pool, asserting its unwaveringly powerful presence. The iridescent pearl on the roof captivated the eye.

“It looks like it’s doing fine. I’m so glad.”

Reiki poked its head out from beside the gate and nodded.

It often slept near the Ryugu Gate, practically making a new home out of it. Looking completely content with its eyes half-closed as usual, it swam lazily toward the back of the gate.

Once he’d watched Reiki go, Minato looked up.

His gaze settled on the waterfall. Right at his eye level, water fell from a ledge between two jagged stones that formed the lip of the waterfall.

The large rock that Reiki and Oryu often sat upon jutted out beside the base of the waterfall. Minato climbed on top of the rock and leaned in closer to examine the lip.

“It really looks like the water is coming directly out of the wall… I feel like I’ve seen something like this before… Oh, that’s it. It’s like the indoor bath at our onsen inn, where the water comes out of a slab of marble.”

He nodded in understanding, his honest response after examining the wall hard enough to bore a hole in it.

The continuous cascade of water formed a veil of mist, but it was only around the waterfall that the moisture in the air was higher. A faint chill suffused the air, and Minato felt his skin go cold. The waterfall might be small, but it operated just like a real one. He could feel his nerves and mind relax with every breath.

“…This is nice.”

In the end, he found the garden’s renovations interesting and enjoyable.

But one thing nagged at him: The Yamagami was still using its divine power so frivolously.

“Well, what’s done is done.”

It wouldn’t do any good to keep stewing over that.

He gazed at the Yamagami lying on its cushion, but its body didn’t show the slightest hint of translucence.

Minato looked back down to where the band of white water fell—the basin of the waterfall. He crouched down and peered through the mist to the riverbed. There, he saw a pile of large rocks with a deep depression in the center.

Oryu lay curled up inside that indentation, enveloped in an intense, pearlescent blue glow. The light was far brighter than the white of the water, making it easy to see.

“So that’s going to be your home, huh…?”

The dragon looked very comfortable, its face the picture of serenity. While its expressions were hard to decipher, Minato could at least tell when it was relaxed.

The waterfall made quite a noise above the surface, but that might not be the case underwater.

Ultimately, while the pond may have drastically changed shape, it didn’t seem like anything had been added. Minato had no issue with its new appearance so long as Reiki and Oryu were comfortable.

Minato turned to look at where the river disappeared into the wall on the mountainside. He had originally planned to just give it a quick glance for now, but figured he should probably check it out.

As Minato was crossing the arched bridge, the surface of the river near his destination bulged slightly. The sunlight reflecting off the water shifted. There shouldn’t have been anything there to cause it.

It was weird that the water’s surface would be rippling.

Minato stopped in the center of the bridge and went over to the edge, his thigh pressing against the handrail as he leaned forward.

Squinting, he saw a fish glowing faintly under the water. Its long, thin body was white with splotches of crimson.

It was a koi.

As Minato gawked at the fish, more appeared.

Heads bubbled up on either side of the koi. Crimson, black, white, gold—at least a dozen koi in a variety of colors and patterns. They crowded the downstream section of the river.

“…Where did they all come from…?”

They obviously weren’t regular koi. The glow of their bodies strongly attested to their divinity.

“They seem to have lost their way.”

A voice rose from behind Minato, and he turned his head to see the tiny wolf sitting on the ground. It had come right up close without him realizing it. At times, the Yamagami appeared so suddenly, it almost seemed to have teleported.

The wolf observed the downstream area through half-closed eyes. It wasn’t annoyed, though, just sleepy—something Minato had picked up on immediately from its languid tone.

The koi, on the other hand, looked utterly confused. They couldn’t come any farther into the garden and stayed swimming in place.

“Are those koi the kin of a kami?”

“Indeed they are. A kami from the next town over.”

Come to think of it, Tsumugi—the black fox that was the kin of the kami next door—explicitly hadn’t tried to set foot inside the Kusunoki residence without the Yamagami’s permission. As captivated by the onsen as she was, she nonetheless had resolutely stayed on top of the wall. Even though one of her feet had almost slipped off.

Tsumugi hadn’t been back to visit since.

The Yamagami had told Minato that the kami next door was named Tenko.

An incredibly sour expression had crossed its face as it said the name. Perhaps they didn’t get along very well.

“They won’t come in uninvited. Tsumugi, Dragon, and Kirin were all the same way. Everyone’s so well-mannered.”

“Some aggressive kami will immediately extinguish any being that enters their realm without permission.”

Minato was dumbstruck.

If, someday, he was drawn into an inhabited kami realm, it was entirely possible that his life might be in danger. Having that realization reinforced in him, Minato felt a chill run through his body, and he broke out in a cold sweat.

The Yamagami walked up next to Minato, who was trembling.

“Do not worry. Such hostile kami are rather rare.”

Minato was protected by the Four Spirits, and so far, he had mostly met friendly kami. He wouldn’t need to worry about coming across any aggressive ones.

Knowing that, the Yamagami let out a pleased chuckle, but Minato just assumed it was teasing him.

The small wolf looked down the river where the koi writhed in a neat line. A short while later, the large golden koi in the middle swam forward, and the fish around it followed.

The Yamagami must have granted them permission.

They continued to come, one after another, after another. The huge school of fish swam against the current.

“…Wow…”

Minato couldn’t help but express his amazement.

A few seconds later, the lead fish stopped beneath the edge of the bridge. It looked up, stuck its head out of the water, and puckered its mouth. The others all did the same. Open-mouthed koi blanketed the water, making soft burbling noises. It was a strangely familiar sight.

Minato wanted to toss some food down to them, but he suppressed that rising urge.

They must have been paying their respects. This was no time to fool around.

He gripped the railing tight and broke into a bright yet dubious smile.

The Yamagami cast Minato a sideways glance before solemnly addressing the koi.

“Worry not; you may pass.”

Having received the Yamagami’s permission, the golden fish opened its mouth once more. The next moment, the multicolored koi passed under the bridge and swam up the river as one. They didn’t collide with one another, nor with the pebbles that coated the riverbed, as they made their way upstream.

Minato laughed happily. “Koi really do fit in perfectly with a Japanese garden.”

“Indeed.”

“But there’s just…so many of them.”

The procession of fish continued. How many kin did the kami in the next town have? Minato found his curiosity piqued.

He stayed bent over, staring down at the water for a while, before suddenly raising his head again.

“…Oh, they’re headed toward the waterf—”

Minato had turned around to see the golden koi swimming up the waterfall.

It ascended powerfully up the crashing water. The surface of the rock was almost vertical, yet the koi surged upward, resisting both gravity and the force of the water.

Minato was strangely moved. He’d never thought he would ever see a spectacle like this.

“So it’s true what they say: Koi really can climb waterfalls…”

“These are the kin of a kami.”

“…Right.”

It would be a little cruel to expect something like that from regular koi.

At some point, Oryu had emerged from its hole in the basin to sit on the rock next to the waterfall. It watched the golden koi climb up the waterfall and disappear over the lip, nodding in approval. For some reason, Minato thought it looked oddly satisfied.

The fish slightly smaller than the golden koi followed suit. Although they weren’t quite as strong swimmers and struggled with the effort, all of them successfully managed to reach the top.

Only the smallest koi remained. Not even half the size of the golden koi, they advanced resolutely up the waterfall—but they were easily pushed back by the force of the water.

One by one, they splashed back down into the basin. None of them even made it halfway up.

Having watched their efforts, Oryu spread its wings wide.

The fish in the water cleared a space, and Oryu folded its wings tight, then dived into the center of the pool. Lithe and graceful, the dragon wriggled its body to work against the current and smoothly climb the waterfall.

It was an incredible display of skill from Oryu. The small fish watched in astonishment.

“You know, I once heard a story about a koi that climbs a waterfall, and once it gets to the top, it turns into a dragon…”

“Impossible.”

The Yamagami succinctly dashed Minato’s small glimmer of hope.

“Oh… That’s a shame.”

Oryu carried the few fish that still couldn’t make it up on his back to the top of the waterfall. Everyone had worked hard, and now all the fish were finally able to return home.

Its job done, Oryu dived back into the waterfall basin.

With the excitement over, only the sound of the waterfall echoed throughout the garden of the gods.

“Hmm,” the Yamagami murmured, its head bent low in thought. “It must be quite confusing for any being who gets lost and unknowingly finds themself in the garden.”

“Yeah, definitely. So, are you going to stop the river from flowing?”

“Absolutely not!” the wolf said with a burning intensity. Its eyes flew open.

Minato stepped back in surprise. “Wow, you’re so passionate about this. You really do have some very strong opinions about the garden.”

“Indeed.”

The wolf turned to face the sky and snorted. It was trying to act haughty, but with its small body, it just came across as adorable. The overall effect was that the Yamagami seemed to be trying very hard to look dignified.

“The river most certainly cannot be stagnant.”

“It’ll be fine if the water comes out of a spring like before, right?”

“Nay, definitively not. I cannot find satisfaction in a plain garden renovation with merely superficial changes.”

“I don’t think it’s plain at all. The pond became a river, and you made a waterfall.”

Hiring someone to do a renovation like this would have cost a lot. And what’s more, it hadn’t impacted the plants and trees in the garden.

The Yamagami stayed silent for a moment, then nodded. “Hmm. Then I will have them enact measures to prevent beings from wandering in.”

“Who?”

“My kin, of course.”

The next moment, the Yamagami raised its head and let out a high-pitched howl.

Arowwwr!

The uncharacteristically cute cry sounded just like a puppy’s. Minato had been looking elsewhere, but he immediately turned to the kami at his feet.

Gazing down at the tiny, proud-looking wolf, he knew, without a doubt, that the howl he’d just heard had come from the Yamagami.

“I didn’t know you could make such a cute noise…”

Its small tail slowly wagged back and forth. “Just as Ho’o can sing the song of every bird, barking like a puppy is a mere trifle for me.”

“You’re being awfully competitive with Bird… Or is it that you only make high-pitched howls with that body?”

“…Precisely.”

“I think that voice suits your current appearance.”

Seeing the Yamagami’s pained expression, Minato couldn’t help but laugh.

As they continued talking, the wind in front of them shifted, and Minato looked over in the direction it had blown—toward the mountain.

A marten sat on the wall.

Minato was sure it hadn’t been there a couple of seconds ago. It had materialized like the wind.

It was Utsugi, one of the Yamagami’s kin. He was the youngest of the martens, a ball of energy who always did whatever he felt like in the moment.

He trotted nimbly across the top of the wall toward Minato.

“Heeey, Minato!”

“Hi, Utsugi.”

The martens’ primary responsibility was to protect the mountain, so he hadn’t seen any of them in quite a while—meaning about a week or so. Between the kin visiting the Kusunoki residence and Minato going up into the mountain, they saw each other fairly often.

When Utsugi reached the spot directly in front of Minato, he sat down on the wall.

Next, two more martens clambered up the fence near the rear gate.

Seri walked in the lead, his footsteps absolutely silent. Torika followed behind him. The two of them were older and more responsible.

Seri and Torika stopped next to Utsugi, looked over the garden, and sat down.

The three white martens looked identical sitting there in a line. Only the tips of their fluffy tails were different colors, which were currently draped over the other side of the wall.

Seri and Torika bowed and greeted Minato.

“It’s been a little while, Minato.”

“You’re looking well. Though, I knew that already.”

“Yeah,” Minato replied with a grin.

The Yamagami had split off parts of its soul to make the kin, so they shared a telepathic bond. This let the martens communicate with the Yamagami, a permanent fixture of the Kusunoki residence, to learn about Minato’s life and how he was doing.

The three martens had cheerfully greeted Minato, but now their moods suddenly changed. They looked so angry that dark clouds bristling with thunder and lightning seemed to form behind them—a change that could only be described as a complete about-face.

They were furious.

Seri spoke first, barely holding his anger in check.

“Yamagami, how many times have we warned you not to use too much of your power?”

“We told you time and again to not get carried away. You overextended yourself and shrank down to that tiny, pitiful size.”

“…Yeah. I can’t stand to see you so small… You’re smaller than we are.”

Torika sounded as if she was at her wit’s end, while Utsugi lamented over what the Yamagami had done.

The smallest of all of them there, however, sat with the same pride as always, not even showing the slightest hint of shame.

“Renovating the garden is a passion of mine, making it one of yours as well.”

The three martens scrunched up their faces.

It was true, so they couldn’t protest. Having once been a part of the Yamagami, they understood it better than anyone else. As if confirming that fact, the trio gazed around the garden with satisfied looks.

Seri let out a light sigh, and his attitude softened.

“—So, was there something you wanted us to do?”

“Aye. I have a trial for you.”

The moment the martens heard those words, their expressions changed, and they stood up straighter.

Minato was secretly impressed. But with the current tension in the air, he couldn’t say anything. It would have been easier for the Yamagami to speak with its kin telepathically, but it had made a point of calling them here for a face-to-face conversation.

Minato had never seen the kami do anything like this before. He leaned to one side, going into “relaxation mode,” and watched how it would all play out.

Next to him, the small, serious-looking wolf sat in the middle of the arched bridge, right at the base of the handrail.

“Just now, a number of beings were brought here by the divine water’s current.”

“…So they ended up here?”

“It was such a large group, and they were swimming so fast, we couldn’t even call out to them.”

“Everyone seemed to be in such a big hurry…”

“Indeed. The situation will calm down eventually, but for now, beings who are unfamiliar with this area will find it easy to wander in here. In the meantime, I want you to keep tighter patrol.”

“…Understood.”

“Roger.”

“You got it!”

No sooner had they replied than the kin disappeared. Minato stared in open amazement.

“I can’t believe it. They’ve gotten so much faster.”

“Aye, quite right. They have been training hard lately to increase their speed, and they seem to have some peculiar desire to compete with Kirin.”

“Kirin really is unusually fast. But I think they’re probably already just as quick.”

The Yamagami had yawned widely while Minato was still talking, its eyelids heavy.

“You look sleepy.”

“…Aye.”

The Yamagami made its way toward the veranda, walking slower than usual.

To make matters worse, it stumbled in a gap between the stepping stones. Minato followed, worried and anxious, his outstretched hands wavering as he debated over whether to pick up the kami.

When the tiny wolf finally made it to the edge of the veranda, it stopped and looked up. It seemed hesitant about making its usual graceful leap.

Without saying anything, Minato picked up the Yamagami from behind. He set it down on the cushion, where it immediately curled into a ball, closed its eyes, and started snoring softly through its nose, fast asleep.

The Yamagami always slept for a long time after performing an act like that. It’d used so much of its power that it had even turned translucent this time, so it would probably stay asleep for quite a while.

“…Sleep well.”

Minato left, trying not to make any noise.

The landscape might have changed drastically, but the plants still needed watering.

Minato deftly drew some of the spray from the waterfall inside a gust of wind, then placed the watering can beside the veranda to use to water the garden.

Suddenly, his world darkened.

Looking around, Minato saw that the shadow fell across more than half the garden. Could it be from sudden rain clouds? Granted, the weather had been sunny just moments ago, with only a few thin clouds.

Perplexed, Minato looked up at the sky. Some sort of giant being hung in the air above him, its snakelike underbelly so incredibly long that it completely covered the Kusunoki residence.

The wriggling, undulating creature was so big that Minato couldn’t see the entirety of it. He found himself lost for words.

Is that…a dragon?

It looked like Oryu, but the color was different.

The pure, mystical blue of its body resembled a clear summer sky.

There was no doubt about it: Another kami had appeared.

The divine energy made Minato’s skin tingle.

He quickly glanced toward the veranda, where the Yamagami still lay on its side, legs akimbo and a snot bubble protruding from its nose. It was sleeping like a baby.

Something deep in Minato’s mind told him that he didn’t need to fear this new kami.

The dragon’s underbelly wriggled in the sky for a while before a face finally presented itself. A head with two horns approached slowly, its nose, mouth, and everything else enormous. That huge maw could devour not just Minato, but multiple people easily in a single bite.

Minato didn’t think it would try to eat him, but he still trembled nervously.

Just then, he heard the sound of wings behind him, and Oryu flew to his side. It had purposefully made its wings audible so Minato could hear them.

“Is this a friend of yours, Dragon?”

Oryu nodded, mirrored by the giant head in the sky above.

With that, a strong wind rushed down on Minato, fluttering his hair and clothes. Just the slightest movement from that dragon kami had created a gale.

He wondered what would happen to the things around here if it roared at the top of its lungs.

Just then, Minato realized something: He’d never heard Oryu’s or Reiki’s voices. If they spoke in the same guttural tone as the kirin and ho’o, then this dragon kami might, too.

And a voice like that would not only damage the Kusunoki residence—it would devastate the Yamagami’s mountain. The thought alone made Minato turn pale.

As these worries raced through his mind, the dragon kami high above the roof opened its jaws slightly. Even that was enough to generate a shock wave.

Minato shielded his face with his arms and steadied himself.

The dragon kami seemed to want to tell him something, but Minato couldn’t endure the onslaught necessary to face it. His body was frozen, and the head in the air above him quietly withdrew.

With that, the overbearing divine power faded far off into the distance.

Unsteady on his feet, Minato let out a breath and righted himself.

Oryu flapped its wings noisily by his side. Minato looked over at it, and it blinked at him. They held each other’s gazes quietly for a few seconds before it blinked again. He didn’t understand what that meant, so Minato called its name, his tone of voice making it sound like a question.

“Dragon?”

The next moment, light flashed in the sky above them, bright enough to make everything around him look white.

“Oh, that means I should close my eyes? …Sorry, I didn’t realize. Honestly, you kami are going to turn me blind,” Minato muttered, covering his eyes.

He opened them again when he felt that the intense light had subsided. That was when he saw a little dragon kami coiled up, floating near the roof. It had shrunk in an instant and was about the same size as Oryu, though it didn’t have any wings.

The dragon kami didn’t descend; it stayed floating in midair. Minato assumed the border between the kami realm and the human world was near the roof. Come to think of it, the dragon kami had stopped its head in about the same spot when it had been huge.

It seemed very polite.

Then again, he should have expected nothing less of a friend of Dragon’s.

The dragon kami extended its neck and bowed. This time, it didn’t make any wind. It just stared wordlessly at Minato. It was probably speaking to him, but Minato couldn’t hear it.

Based on past experience, however, he understood that it was waiting for his permission to enter.

“Please, come in,” Minato said courteously, and it silently slithered down through the air.

When it got closer, it casually waved its front legs, and a box instantly appeared in its paws. It appeared to be a beautifully wrapped box of sweets. The kami had performed this miracle so casually, but that didn’t surprise Minato anymore.

He was used to such things by now. He knew better than to expect anything like an advance warning.

The dragon held out the box toward him, its four sharp claws gripping the gift that was bigger than its own body.

“Thank you very much.”

It was such a strangely human gesture for the dragon kami to bring a gift when coming to visit. Since this was an offering from a kami, Minato accepted it without hesitation. After all, refusing could provoke the kami’s wrath.

Even though it was Oryu’s friend, Minato knew that, deep down, human sensibilities and customs didn’t apply to kami.

All his experiences with these free-spirited beings had taught him that much.

Minato accepted it graciously. Even though the box was a normal size, it was heavy enough that he needed to hold it in both hands.

This gift represented the kami’s sincerest sentiments.

He appreciated the gesture, but was there more than just sweets inside?

As he pondered that question, another box appeared on top of the first. This one was also wrapped in fancy paper, but it was larger and weighed more. Based on its size, it wasn’t sweets, but maybe pottery?

It didn’t stop there, though. Gifts appeared one after the next, until boxes of all shapes and sizes soon piled higher than Minato’s nose.

Even then, the dragon kami kept producing boxes from who knows where.

“Uh, I really appreciate all these gifts, but this is already…”

Minato’s panicked voice passed over the slightly trembling tower of boxes, and the dragon kami finally stopped.

It blinked, perplexed. Next to Minato, Oryu—who had watched it all unfold with an exasperated look on its face—sighed softly.

Apparently, the dragon kami and Oryu hadn’t seen each other for a while.

Minato prepared a feast for their reunion and treated them to all the alcohol they could drink, and in no time flat, the two dragons were floating in the air, wineglasses in claw.

The dragon kami was incredibly well-mannered, but just like Oryu, it didn’t seem to be able to hold its liquor all that well.

Dark gray painted the sky. Filled with wine, the dragon kami flew cheerfully back into the east.

Minato watched its outline disappear between a gap in the thin clouds, then returned to the veranda. He hesitantly tried opening one of the boxes and inside found rows of sweets as round as full moons.

Mooncakes, decorated with lotus flowers.

They looked stuffed full of sweet bean paste. The sweet fragrance slipped out the moment he opened the lid.

Under normal circumstances, a certain sweet-toothed someone would have created a windstorm in the garden, but now there was only the sound of the waterfall.

Minato looked up quietly. The wolf’s tiny body was still curled up asleep on the cushion. It gave off a soft light, not moving an inch. Even though whenever the Yamagami caught a whiff of sweets with its exceptional sense of smell, it would lose all sense of calm and be unable to sit still.

Its nose, its whiskers, its ears, its tail—nothing moved.

It just lay there unmoving, like a tranquil mountain.

Chapter 3: Minato’s Clandestine Campaign

He’d made up his mind.

Minato was resolved to do whatever it took to return the diminutive wolf to its regular size.

A tiny Yamagami was no Yamagami at all.

Well, that might be going a little too far, but he had to do something. He couldn’t relax at all.

He wanted the Yamagami to return to its authoritatively large body as soon as possible.

It wasn’t just that he couldn’t get used to that minuscule physique. Every now and then, its body would turn transparent, sending a sharp pain through his heart.

And just the other day, the Yamagami had delivered some shocking news as casually as if it was talking about the week’s weather forecast:

If it depleted any more of its divine power, it would be unable to maintain its current form and incapable of talking with Minato.

Its kin would also disappear.

This was unacceptable. He would never allow that to happen.

For his own peace of mind, he needed to change the Yamagami back immediately.

Minato was filled with an incredible determination—but his struggle had only just begun.

Bathed in the soft sunlight, the trees in the garden of the gods shone a vivid green. Today, as always, they danced in the breeze, which carried their woodland scent throughout the yard.

Minato walked from the house out onto the veranda surrounded by the pleasant noise of the waterfall. He carried a round tray that supported some teacups and a little mountain of mooncakes on a small plate.

The Yamagami’s nose twitched where it rested on the cushion. Having woken up for the first time in days, it was slightly bigger and became translucent less often.

“What is this scent? It’s quite unusual.”

“It’s Chinese tea from the dragon kami.”

Minato set the teacups on the table.

The small teacups had also been a gift from the dragon kami.

Those boxes, so numerous he’d had trouble carrying them all, had been filled with mooncakes, a variety of sweets, loose leaf tea, and the tea set. A proper Chinese tea set proved to be quite an involved gift.

Online sources about Chinese tea said to discard the first brew and that it was important to regulate the temperature of the teapot by pouring hot water on the outside. It seemed like it would take a lot of care.

While he appreciated the gift, it was honestly a lot of effort. Minato usually just drank green tea. To his mind, simply dumping some leaves into a teapot, adding hot water, and letting it steep made for a perfectly good cup. As a normal Japanese person used to this easy way of making tea, this new method proved downright laborious.

Minato had shut the lid of the box containing the tea set, deciding it wasn’t something at all suited for daily use. He would send it to his parents’ house.

That was where most of the gifts he received and prizes he won ended up.

He gladly used the teacups, however.

After explaining all this to the Yamagami, Minato set his own teacup on the table.

“Anyway, it seemed like I could just make it the same way as green tea, so I brewed one of the oolong teas. It smells fantastic.”

“Aye. It is a scent I am not familiar with, yet a pleasant one.”

The Yamagami took deep breaths of the aroma wafting up from the teacup. Its tail swished contentedly, rustling against the cushion.

And then—clink.

Minato quietly set the small plate of mooncakes down in front of the Yamagami.

“Here, Yamagami. Mooncakes.”

The wolf glanced up, the tip of its nose inside its teacup.

A ferocious aura surrounded Minato. He sat there leaning forward slightly, his intense gaze almost an attack.

A shock ran through the Yamagami, who stopped wagging its tail.

“What is it…?”

“Don’t worry. Eat up,” Minato replied, his voice as stern as his expression.

The Yamagami eyed the mooncakes, perplexed by the almost lethal intensity around Minato.

The flat discs emitted a fragrant scent. With its acute sense of smell, the Yamagami had already detected the presence of a rich black sesame paste within.

Even though it had never eaten this particular delicacy before, a sweet was still a sweet. Though the dragon kami had brought it from a far-off country, these mooncakes had been made by human hands. They weren’t delicacies made especially for kami.

“—Very well, then.”

It was the Yamagami’s principle never to waste an offering.

Opening its mouth wide, the wolf set about the mountain of baked goods.

The small mooncakes were just right for its current size; one fit perfectly inside its mouth. The Yamagami chewed, savoring the treat for a long time.

“Ah. This unique sesame flavor is truly delectable. Moist and rich on the tongue, yet it doesn’t leave a strong aftertaste. How cunning. And exceptionally delicious.”

It nodded in satisfaction.

Still basking in the lingering taste of the black sesame paste, the Yamagami tilted its head and opened its mouth to eat another mooncake. Just as its teeth were about to pierce the second one, however, it froze, its golden eyes staring straight ahead.

Minato sat there, looking crestfallen.

The Yamagami pulled back, closed its mouth, and studied Minato.

“…What is it? Something you wish to say to me? There’s no need for you to hesitate. Speak up.”

“No, it’s nothing. Don’t worry about it. Just keep eating…”

Minato stood up and walked back inside the house without even having touched his tea. A small plate holding a solitary mooncake was left beside his teacup, the steam from which bent as though following after Minato.

The Yamagami bit into a second mooncake. In moments, that delicious taste had made it forget all about Minato’s strange behavior, and its body and tail swayed happily.

Minato eventually returned after the Yamagami’s fourth mooncake.

In his hands was another small plate. The Yamagami’s nose immediately pivoted in that direction, drawn to the scent of kashiwa oak leaves, which were currently in season.

So, sitting on that plate…must be kashiwa mochi.

Sweets from foreign countries were nice every now and then—but nothing compared to those from its homeland.

The Yamagami’s nose wouldn’t—couldn’t—stop twitching.

And yet it was concerned by Minato’s demeanor. Far too concerned.

Holding the small plate reverently in both hands, Minato approached with careful, quiet footsteps. What was the reason for his small, quiet steps? What kind of bizarre ritual was he conducting? He was acting so seriously, it could only be described as weird.

“You seem awfully restless,” the Yamagami commented. “Your tea will go cold.”

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind lukewarm tea, or tea that’s gone cold.”

For some reason he answered in a quick, muted tone. It almost sounded like Minato didn’t want to be disturbed.

“…One shouldn’t have no preferences,” the Yamagami muttered, not even trying to hide his exasperation.

Minato watched the Yamagami devour the remaining mooncakes and kashiwa mochi with an unamused expression.

“Just watching you eat makes my stomach hurt…,” he murmured, draining his cold tea in one gulp.

After getting dressed the next morning, Minato came out onto the veranda.

He must be going to sweep the veranda and tidy the garden, the Yamagami thought, observing drowsily from his cushion. It seemed like a lot of extraneous effort to clean a place that never got dirty practically every day.

Minato was ready to vacate the house at a moment’s notice if a buyer showed up, so he kept his belongings to the absolute bare minimum.

The Yamagami roused itself to move. But as it did, Minato inexplicably approached and knelt down in front of the wolf.

“I wish you a pleasant morning, Yamagami.”

He spoke solemnly, even bowing his head and putting his hands together. First thing in the morning, Minato was earnestly demonstrating his reverence.

The Yamagami had no idea what was going on. Minato had never treated it like this before, so it wasn’t quite sure how to react.

“Mm.”

However, it wasn’t bothered by his actions. The small wolf puffed its chest out proudly, responding in kind. That should adequately convey its majesty.

It was hard to say how long the human and the kami stayed like that, just that it was an unusually long time. Only the sound of the waterfall continued unchanged.

It didn’t stop there, either.

“Yamagami, thank you for gracing me with your presence at meals.”

This continued past breakfast to lunch, afternoon tea, and dinner. Every time they ate together, Minato would give his heartfelt thanks and devotion to the Yamagami.

Each prayer session lasted longer than a couple of minutes.

The Yamagami attended to these devotions every single time. It wouldn’t refuse any amount of gratitude in its name. Such acts nourished kami, so there was no way they would be a nuisance.

Yet the look in Minato’s eyes concerned the Yamagami. Every time he prayed to it, Minato examined the wolf from head to toe as coolly as a scientist analyzing the results of their research.

It wondered what had caused this change.

Chirp-chirp-chirp. Cheep, cheep. The sparrows that had come to check on the ho’o almost sounded like they were laughing.

The camphor tree’s young leaves were a darker shade of green, coated in a layer of moisture from the heavy shower of divine water Minato had given it. The leaves tilted of their own will, rolling and playing with the globules of water.

Minato, Reiki, and Oryu sat on the veranda where they could watch it play.

This rare assembly had been enjoying some drinks from midday.

Naturally, a tea set sat next to the teetotaler Minato. Inside the glass teapot bloomed a bright-red flower. This fragrant, aesthetically pleasing tea had also been a gift from the dragon kami. Oryu happily swished its tail at the pleasing jasmine smell.

Minato poured some sake into Reiki’s cup. The liquor store owner had gifted him this sake when he’d bought a few other bottles. Despite never drinking a drop of alcohol, Minato shopped regularly at the liquor store, so he received a lot of freebies.

And while he might not understand the difference in taste from one sake to another, this one smelled incredibly potent.

“I’ve been putting all my effort into thanking the Yamagami so it’ll go back to its original size…but nothing seems to work.”

The struggle to restore the Yamagami had been going on for a week. It hadn’t grown any larger, though, and was still a far cry from being called big. Minato had been unable to achieve any significant results, including making it stop turning transparent.

The Yamagami had returned home to its mountain and was there now. And, as they say, when the cat’s away—or in this case, the wolf—the mice come out to play. Minato was venting to Reiki and Oryu and asking for their advice.

The ho’o was asleep. The kirin hadn’t returned from its travels yet.

Reiki shook its head. “You’ve been working very hard. It has definitely had an effect. You just can’t see it.”

“Indeed,” agreed Oryu, spreading its wings wide. “The effects are internal. Look closely and you’ll notice that its body is bigger than a few days ago.”

“…Do you think it’s working?”

The two auspicious beasts nodded vigorously.

“You do, huh…? But the last time I prayed, it grew big instantly…,” Minato muttered, bemused. “I even prayed over the sweets, thinking maybe I could fill them with my gratitude.”

“Why would you do that…? That’s far too eccentric,” Reiki said exasperatedly, licking up some salt.

“Maybe it’s because they were a gift, or because they’re mass-produced. Would something handmade be better?”

“Sure, things made with your care and attention might increase the effect a little, but the difference isn’t that great. And you already make all the food yourself.”

Reiki sipped its drink, moving its eyelids, neck, and tail to help Minato understand.

Tossing out different ideas, Minato came to a sudden realization.

“Oh, that’s it. It’s because deep down I don’t think the Yamagami is all that divine.”

“…Well, you’re not wrong. But you shouldn’t worry about that,” Reiki said in a stately tone.

Oryu, meanwhile, swirled its glass and sniffed at the wine, feigning ignorance.

A short while later, the tipsy Oryu began to float, the wine inside the glass swaying in time with its body. It was a common occurrence, so Reiki and Minato didn’t bat an eyelid.

Minato tilted the bottle of sake.

“Wow, it’s almost gone. That was quick. Was it that good? It just smelled like extra-strong sake to me.”

“…The alcohol content is higher, but it wasn’t particularly special. I simply thought I should finish it because Fujin and Raijin won’t drink what they don’t like…”

Reiki didn’t mince words, but it was considerate.

While the Yamagami only ever sipped at alcoholic drinks, Fujin and Raijin loved high-quality stuff, so they wouldn’t even touch this overly pungent sake. The pair of kami hadn’t stopped by in a while, though. Their visits were as unpredictable as they were.

With no one to share with, Reiki drank like a sieve. But this was also why it didn’t seem all that satisfied.

Minato understood that much. There was no point in having any of the sake left over, though, so he kept refilling Reiki’s glass.

Oryu slid past them, floating in midair. It deftly dodged any obstacles, occasionally flapping its wings. The dragon’s body had changed drastically, and Minato squinted at the pearly light blanketing it.

Only a few days ago, Minato had received skins from both Reiki and Oryu, and scales from the kirin. He kept everything safely inside the house and dried them out every once in a while, on Fujin’s advice.

Minato worried that having such treasures inside the house would attract the bizarre and inexplicable, but so far, nothing. That might be because they hadn’t been removed from the Kusunoki residence.

Minato was considering taking them outside sometime soon to test out his theory.

Reiki looked up from its cup and released a short sigh.

“There’s no reason to be in such a hurry. It will revert to its former self soon enough.”

Eternal life had given Reiki a long-term view of things. It didn’t understand Minato’s desire to turn the Yamagami back as soon as possible.

Reliable Reiki’s attitude demonstrated the frivolity of worrying.

Seeing that, Minato felt embarrassed for agonizing over it.

“You’re right. Even if it doesn’t turn back soon, nothing’s going to happen to the Yamagami…”

That’s right. The Yamagami’s strong.

It might be small now, but it would certainly turn back in time. Hadn’t it been transparent the first time they met, only to demonstrate its firm sense of self in short order?

Minato gulped down his cold tea.

“Its true form is huge and hides the tremendous power of a volcano. It even easily stopped the neighboring kami from forcing me to go over there.” Minato’s bright voice was filled with unwavering confidence.

Out of sight below Minato’s eyeline, Reiki and Oryu exchanged a glance.

Chapter 4: The Black Fox Returns

The lumpy, round canopies of camphor trees blanketed the mountain. Next to it, the Kusunoki residence stood demure, surrounded by a ring of camphors that blurred the boundary between mountain and dwelling.

From above, however, the border was unmistakable.

Contrasting starkly against the wild mountain was an immaculately designed garden with rows of neatly arranged trees, a nearly circular open-air onsen, and a river snaking through it. Everything was beautifully constructed.

A waterfall splashed, feeding into the flowing river whose rippling surface made it look like an enormous living creature.

This garden of the gods resonated with the gentle sounds of the waterfall and birds chirping.

Wild birds gathered in a ring around one of the two stone lanterns placed near the wall on the mountainside. They stared up as one toward who else but their leader—the ho’o.

It was finally awake, sitting decorously on the lip of the flame housing as it spoke with the birds below.

The Yamagami and Minato occasionally glanced over from their seats on the veranda.

Minato was sitting at the table making talismans, while the wolf was lying down in front of him, still half-asleep. Having just woken up, it looked even sleepier than usual, and its persistently small body was enveloped by the cushion.

“You know, it struck me a while ago, but Bird is kind of like a celebrity, don’t you think?”

“A celebrity…”

The Yamagami awkwardly repeated the unfamiliar word, pondering over it, before yawning wide in understanding.

“So, like a geisha.”

“Kind of, but also not…? No, not really, because they’re not strictly performers…,” Minato replied, musing to himself absentmindedly. His hand never stopped moving the brush.

Crafting talismans required intense focus.

Minato couldn’t imbue them with his unique power for extended periods of time, so his concentration always wavered by the time he got to the last one. At first, he was able to tune out the sounds around him, but eventually the chirping of the birds became more noticeable.

“It’s nice to see them sounding so happy now that Bird’s finally awake.”

Wild birds had visited the garden frequently while the ho’o was sleeping. They’d rested their wings on the fence and monitored the stone lantern, then left silently when they realized their leader wasn’t going to wake up.

Often, they were species rarely seen in the area. Minato felt sorry for them, watching the crestfallen birds fly away without having met the ho’o.

“Some of them must come from really far away to meet Bird…”

He always looked up any new birds that came on the internet, occasionally realizing that he’d seen a species rare enough to make ornithologists squeal in delight.

A slightly louder chirp rang out from above.

Minato looked up toward it. A small brown bird had landed in the garden, singing. Its unique crest swayed on its head as it hurriedly joined the flock.

“A Eurasian skylark.”

In no time at all, Minato had come to learn a lot of bird names.

“Many birds hope to meet Ho’o once during their lifetime,” the Yamagami said.

“Really? But that seems pretty difficult.”

A corrupt kami had held the ho’o captive for an extremely long time, so it hadn’t been long ago that no bird alive on earth had seen their leader.

As such, Minato didn’t mind the flocks of boisterous birds. He just watched them gratefully, hoping that they could spend as much time with their leader as they liked.

The birds were also very well-mannered. They never got close to the river or the onsen.

Minato looked toward the waterfall. Just watching the majestic sight made him feel refreshed. A light mist fell upon the nearby rock.

The residents who claimed the area around there as their own—Reiki and Oryu—were nowhere to be seen. When Minato had checked the river during his morning rounds, both the waterfall basin where Oryu normally was and Reiki’s usual spots were empty. He assumed they’d both left through the Ryugu Gate. The kirin hadn’t returned, either, so it must have been enjoying a rather long trip.

Minato finished the grid pattern on the final piece of washi paper and set his brush down.

“That’ll do for today. Yamagami, could you check them, please?”

With Drill Sergeant Ho’o occupied, Lieutenant Yamagami would be doing quality checks on the talismans today.

The table was completely covered in washi paper with bold letters and grids written on the pages in ink. Half contained just elimination power, while the other half he’d imbued with elimination power, then sealed it inside.

While Minato had been making the talismans, the breeze blowing around the veranda had calmed so the paper wouldn’t fly away. Adjusting the wind was simple for the Yamagami.

The small wolf hauled itself to its feet and approached the table. It flicked its chin up, examining the talismans like an appraiser.

“Hm, they are all well-made. And with half, the elimination power has been sealed inside.” Its gaze froze on the talisman in front of Minato. “Except for this final one.”

“I knew it…”

Minato picked it up and examined it.

To his eyes, it looked no different from any of the other designs. He could only see the thickness, length, and shape of the lines. But he’d felt his concentration lapse when he’d been writing it and suspected that his sealing power hadn’t been properly applied.

Minato showed the Yamagami the washi paper for Saiga with the words amazake manju written on it.

“Yamagami, this one just has elimination power. How does it look?”

“Hmm, the characters are jade. The same violent color is emitted from the paper… Nay, perhaps it would be more appropriate to say it is being strewn in all directions.”

“That makes it sound bad.”

“The light may be beautiful, but the intensity is enough to harm the eyes of those who can see it,” the wolf declared solemnly.

Minato couldn’t tell whether he was being complimented or chastised. Not knowing quite how to respond, he took on an ambiguous expression and returned the talisman to the table.

“The number of talismans here now makes the light stronger and extends the range farther than when there is just one. A single talisman—” The Yamagami looked out, fixing its gaze on the camphor tree in the center of the garden, its young leaves dancing. “—would just reach the camphor tree. With this many, the light reaches the rear gate. And the center shines so brightly, it can be likened to a flashbang grenade.”

“You’re kidding. Are you saying my power emits the same amount of light pollution as yours…?”

The Yamagami snorted and puffed up its chest. “Nay. It cannot compare to my light.”

A brilliant light shone from the wolf’s body, and in a flash, the jade color coming from the table was completely overpowered by the golden glow. The light’s intensity was on a whole different scale.

Minato shielded his eyes from the fierce illumination. Half the birds fled skyward in surprise, but the-local birds that had built up a resistance to the Yamagami’s light—sparrows, pigeons, and crows—all stayed.

“You could’ve warned me. Honestly…”

There was a hint of irritation in Minato’s tone. The light had enough heat and pressure for him to feel on his skin, meaning the Yamagami was regaining its power, and while that made Minato happy, he’d never fully get used to these sudden luminous onslaughts.

Peeking through the gaps in his fingers, Minato saw the triumphant-looking Yamagami increase the intensity of its radiance.

It was doing this on purpose. And enjoying it far too much.

Just as Minato started to say something, the Yamagami’s ears lay back against its head. Its kin must have sent some sort of message.

The Yamagami squeezed its eyes tight and swished its tail grandly.

“—Why the sudden commotion? What is the meaning of all this ‘Yamagami, please dim your light immediately!’ ‘It is too much! You’re getting carried away!’ ‘Don’t waste your power!’? Silence, I take orders from no one. Focus on keeping the mountain secure, you three.”

It sounded like the martens patrolling their home were complaining in stereo, just as Minato had presumed.

What else did it expect? Minato thought exasperatedly.

“See, you made the kin angry,” he told the Yamagami.

“…Those beings, shouting so vociferously…” The wolf shook its head with annoyance. “It echoes all the way through my skull.”

“Sometimes, I’m not sure which of you is the parent.”

The Yamagami gave a bemused snort. “It is I, undoubtedly,” it said arrogantly, dimming its glow. Even if it did complain, at least it listened. Minato appreciated that.

Smirking, Minato piled the washi paper into a neat bundle. Each movement of his hands made the Yamagami’s nose twitch.

“In case you are unaware, there is a strong sweet and salty scent lingering on your hands.”

“You can still smell that?”

He stopped stacking the sheets and sniffed his palms.

Inari sushi. There was just a faint smell of the fried tofu pouches.

“You’re right. It is still there a little bit.”

Minato had been making inari sushi for lunch before starting on the talismans.

A wolf’s nose could detect faint smells that eluded humans—and the Yamagami possessed an exceptional sense of smell.

“I thought I washed my hands well enough, but I guess it doesn’t come off that easily.”

“Wash your hands in the river, and the scent shall vanish immediately.”

“The divine water even removes smells? I didn’t know that. But I’m not sure how I feel about washing my hands in the river of the garden… I mean, it sounds so feral. Like instead of living in a house, I’m living in the wild.”

Minato looked in through the window to the living room. It looked the same as when he’d first arrived, filled with only the most basic furnishings and bare of any rugs or other decorations. He hardly ever spent time on the large sofa inside, but simply made sure the house stayed in good order.

“Well, I guess it’s a bit too late for that. I’ll go to the river once I tidy up here.”

“Hurry, before you attract a fox,” the Yamagami muttered quietly for its own amusement.

Minato tapped the bundle of washi paper on the table to straighten it.

“You mean that black fox that stopped by the last time I made inari sushi? What was her name again? Tsumugi? She hasn’t been by since. I hope she’s doing okay.”

“I’m doing wonderfully, of course!”

A clear, high-pitched voice rang out behind him.

He could clearly hear that she was well even before turning to look.

A black fox sat on the wall facing the mountain.

That tiny fox with the white lotus flower mark on her forehead sat politely, front paws aligned and back straight.

Her face, however, was fixed in the direction of the open-air onsen. She didn’t even glance toward Minato. Just like last time, she had a furoshiki cloth-covered parcel tied to her back, so she must be running errands again.

The hot spring had previously lured in this being—Tsumugi, the kin of the neighboring kami Tenko—when she had been in the middle of an important errand. This time, too, she stared captivated at the natural onsen.

Minato couldn’t help but laugh at seeing her so true to her desires.

“Long time no see,” he called out casually.

Not too long ago, Minato and the Yamagami had been walking by the small, triangular mountain next door, Tsumugi’s home, when Minato had been pulled toward a kami realm.

It was a forceful invitation from her master, Tenko.

The Yamagami spared no second cutting the invitation short.

Minato stood facing Tenko for a while, but there was no more drama and nothing else happened, so he held no grudges against the fox kami.

And of course, none toward Tsumugi, either.

She was a fluffy little fox that could speak human language. Minato wouldn’t mind spending time with a neighbor like that.

He wasn’t the type to try to pet or scratch animals; he simply enjoyed admiring them. Watching what they did from up close comforted him and soothed his heart.

Tsumugi finally tore her gaze away from the onsen to look over at Minato and the Yamagami.

“May I intrude?”

“Please, come in,” Minato said, and the Yamagami gave a quick nod.

She hopped lightly down into the grounds. The little fox walked silently toward them, putting on airs as her big tail swayed elegantly behind her.

Minato stood and smiled.

“Did you come because you smelled the inari sushi I made?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she said, straight-faced, her eyes no longer focused on the onsen. But the tip of her black nose twitched uncontrollably.

“They’re pretty simple today; there’s only white sesame seeds inside. Is that okay?”

“That sounds superb.”

Quickened steps matched her excited voice. Tsumugi trotted forward, her eyes shining with excitement. It seemed she had trouble being forthright with people at first.

“We also have some with soba. Do you want to try one?”

“Wh-what kind of inari sushi is that…?”

“It’s filled with soba instead of vinegared rice. We call it soba inari.”

“Soba inari… I’ve never even heard of it before. I like them with rice, of course, but soba also sounds good…! I would love to try it!”

Right after that passionate declaration, Tsumugi froze. Her small frame pitched forward, and she hurriedly righted herself.

Seeing this abrupt, strange behavior as he walked back toward the house, Minato stopped in his tracks. The Yamagami blinked, perplexed.

Tsumugi sat rigidly next to the veranda, a serious look across her face. She cleared her throat. “Actually, I came today to apologize.”

“For what?” Minato asked from the edge of the veranda. Diagonally below him, Tsumugi looked up, as if trying to gauge Minato’s mood.

Her eyes flicked past Minato to the Yamagami.

“The other day, my kami—Tenko—forcefully invited you over. I am very sorry about that.”

The Yamagami harrumphed and rested its chin on the cushion.

Minato crouched down. “It did surprise me a little, but don’t worry about it.”

“…If you say so.”

“In fact, I consider myself pretty lucky to have been able to see an Inari kami with all her tails.”

“The number of tails relates to her strength.”

“Really?”

Tsumugi shook her solitary tail and raised her chin. “My kami, Tenko, is very powerful. The shrine on our mountain has the most visitors of any in this area.”

Her voice and attitude gave off a great sense of pride.

Shrines to the goddess Inari are spread all across Japan, and it’s well known that they receive huge numbers of visitors. That anyone seeing a crimson torii immediately thinks of Inari shrines speaks to their prevalence.

Various anecdotes have attached themselves to these shrines over the years. This is perhaps why so many people believe in the divine power of Inari shrines and the ease with which they can curse you.

“While we appreciate all the visitors, it’s honestly too much commotion. That’s just the shrine grounds, though—”

Tsumugi’s voice had gradually gotten lower as she spoke.

Minato stood up, sensing a strange presence. Behind him, the Yamagami frowned deeply and growled. The birds beneath the stone lantern flew away, and once they’d left, the ho’o squinted, hopped back into the flame housing, and shut the glass window.

The lotus on Tsumugi’s forehead changed color. Crimson spread out from the center, replacing the white.

Minato realized that Tenko had just entered Tsumugi’s body.

He’d seen the Yamagami enter Utsugi’s body before, so he immediately understood what was happening. Having met Tenko face-to-face once, he wasn’t overly surprised.

However, Tenko’s divine power felt much stronger this time. The pressure pushed against him, and he reeled back, his heel brushing the edge of the cushion.

Atop the cushion, the Yamagami stayed arrogantly still, not even attempting to stand. It simply watched the events unfold through narrowed eyes.

Tsumugi’s mark turned completely crimson, and her single tail shook quickly and multiplied.

She now had nine.

They spread out flamboyantly behind her, accompanied by a light laugh that rippled through the air like waves on a pond.

The little fox gazed up at Minato, her aura completely changed.

“—Even when it is noisy outside, our realm is quiet and comfortable. Would you not like to come and visit us sometime?”

The power in that deeply resonant voice could numb someone’s brain. It also had a strange allure to it, the husky voice of a young woman capable of tempting anyone.

It might be rude to describe it as such, but that was how it sounded to Minato. Although, that might be because the nine-tailed fox’s reputation as a trickster preceded her.

The small fox—Tenko—shifted her gaze inside the house to the kitchen.

A large tray piled high with inari sushi and soba inari rested on the counter.

“Naturally, you should bring some of that inari sushi. Though I must admit, I am also curious about this soba inari.”

“You’re just like Tsumugi…”

Minato wasn’t surprised.

It might be because they took the form of animals or simply a part of their nature, but kami all seemed to have strong opinions about food and got easily distracted by such matters. Tsumugi had originally been born from Tenko, so it made sense that they would share the same tastes.

“So the fox finds itself a hen house,” mocked the Yamagami. The scorn behind those words surprised Minato so much that he looked down.

The wolf silently got up off its cushion, its long fur shaking and standing on end. It was extremely agitated.

Minato was speechless. He’d never seen it like this before.

The Yamagami took one step forward, then another.

It walked slowly, its fur swaying more intensely. The golden light around it grew and eventually began to spark and crackle. By the time it had reached the edge of the veranda, the luminescence from its body had transformed into a blinding storm of lightning arcing all the way to the roof.

The Yamagami’s intense anger scared Minato so much that he backed up until he was pressed against the glass window.

Paws firmly set on the deck of the veranda, the Yamagami glared scornfully down at the fox below.

“You are a truly vulgar vixen.”

Tenko scoffed. “You’re the last one I want to hear that from. You, who were so easily stopped from erupting by being placated with sweets.”

The lightning enveloping the Yamagami writhed like a snake.

“Unlike you, I have never sneaked into another kami’s realm for food. I never granted you permission to enter here. What makes you think you can come in uninvited? Leave now.”

“You granted permission to my kin. That means I can enter, too.”

“Nonsense. Do not twist its meaning for your own convenience.”

“You say the strangest things. My kin is a part of me.” The elusive Tenko swished her tails in irritation. “Regardless, I do not need your permission to enter. If that one allows it, then anyone can come into the garden. Right?”

Tenko looked past the Yamagami to Minato. He reflexively forced a smile, but it was incredibly strained.

“It disgusts me to have you looking down on me,” the Yamagami complained. The small fox floated in the air, above its eye level.

A single bolt of light shot out from the Yamagami, unfurling like a whip toward Tenko.

But it dissipated in the space between them.

Tenko had neither moved nor readied herself for a fight. She had vanquished the bolt instantly with a glance. She looked slightly bored, practically on the verge of yawning.

“Weak, so weak. How pathetic. You couldn’t even beat a fly or a mosquito with your current power.”

Tenko was smaller than the Yamagami, but she didn’t look weak at all. The space surrounding her shimmered like a mirage, affected by the power she gave off.

She contained an unbelievable amount of divine power.

“How dare you…?”

The Yamagami growled low and sent out a torrent of light whips. Vertical, horizontal, diagonal—each and every one was extinguished.

The nine tails swayed listlessly.

“Tsumugi’s body is much weaker than mine, but even this is enough to handle you. It will be an easy victory.”

“Enough of your impudence. This will show you.”

The Yamagami leaped from the veranda.

One jump proved enough to reach its target. The wolf’s sharp claws hurtled toward her face—but Tenko dodged the oncoming attack at the last moment.

It had suddenly devolved into a physical fight.

Up in the sky, far above the roof, the white wolf and black fox engaged in a battle of claws and fangs. The thudding of strikes and the beastly howling tore through the air. The two kami bared their fangs and howled at each other like ferocious of gods of war.

Yet they still looked like a cute little fox and wolf.

No matter how vicious the fight, no matter how intense the atmosphere, it just looked like animals roughhousing. The front paws of the two kami whirred in an effort to scratch each other, while the little wolf barked like a puppy and the little fox squealed like a cub.

They reminded Minato of a famous cartoon cat and mouse duo.

The two gods twisted up and down in constant motion, their divine speed too fast for Minato to see from the veranda. Arcs of white and black continued streaking through the air.

It was a vicious, frightening sight, but their outbursts cut into the tension.

They shouted and cursed each other noisily.

“You puny fox!”

“Who are you to speak, you tiny wolf?! That appearance is pitiful! Go look in a mirror!”

“Silence!”

In no time at all, all of Minato’s tension had drained from him.

A strong wind briefly blew down on the garden with the kami’s shouting.

The trees in the garden rustled as one. Buffeted by the wind, the camphor stooped almost to the ground, its young leaves holding on for dear life.

Minato sent out a wind, forming a shield between the roof and the garden. The wind immediately calmed, and the camphor tree sprang back and righted itself.

In contrast to the peaceful scene on the ground, intense bickering continued in the air above.

The tiny wolf and petite fox were still clawing at each other.

“You’re far too slow,” Tenko mocked. “Your movements are sluggish. It’s been a while since we played around like this, but you’re in such a sorry state. Can’t you make this more interesting for me?”

“I said silence!”

Her nine tails swayed as if taunting the Yamagami, and gusts of wind filled with divine power brushed away the Yamagami’s attacks.

“You really have lost a considerable amount of power, haven’t you?” Tenko’s pupils constricted as she looked down at the Yamagami. “You’re much weaker than you were five hundred years ago.”

The heat haze surrounding the tiny fox’s body expanded in an instant. Her divine power intensified, and the entire residence shook like they’d just had a mild earthquake.

Momentarily frozen, the small wolf was thrown backward and landed on the wind barrier.

The Yamagami had lost.

The match had lasted only a few minutes, and it had ended in an instant. The Yamagami hadn’t had a chance. Even Minato could see the stark difference in their divine power.

Floating in the air, the little fox shot an intense, commanding gaze below her. “Well, then. This was match number 33,332. And I’ve won 22,222 of them.”

Tenko did a backflip and let out a high-pitched laugh. She was thoroughly enjoying herself.

“I do not count such trivial things.”

Minato dropped his wind shield, and the Yamagami fell to the ground. It landed on all fours, standing firm.

That had all been no more than two kami playing. They’d just been messing around.

Walking toward Minato now, the Yamagami didn’t seem to be fretting about the defeat, but simply looked chagrined.

Minato understood. The Yamagami had said as much once.

That having someone with whom you could occasionally fight to your fullest was, in a way, a joyous thing.

Still, Minato could scarcely believe what he’d just seen.

Up until now, he’d subconsciously thought that no being could overpower the Yamagami.

Chapter 5: The Monthly Shrine Cleaning

Minato and the Yamagami strolled down a mountain path beneath a deep-green canopy.

They were returning from the hokora shrine halfway up the mountain. Minato had come back every month since the first time he cleaned it to keep it tidy.

Each time, someone from the Yamagami family accompanied him. Today, that was the Yamagami.

Human and kami followed the path along a cliff. Crossing the narrow, winding trail required careful attention, and rocks of various sizes complicated things further. The biggest boulder was about as tall as Minato. He twisted his body, weaving between the stones, and sometimes had to walk around them. The smaller rocks he could hop over.

While Minato might not be able to walk in a straight line, in front of him, the Yamagami traversed the path with ease. It spryly leaped from boulder to boulder, proceeding without pause.

Minato was glad to see the Yamagami with so much energy, even though it was still so small. He let out a light sigh at seeing the wolf’s tiny figure.

The previous day, the aerial skirmish at the Kusunoki residence had ended in a resounding victory for Tenko. Afterward, she had flown off home with a high-pitched laugh.

Tenko hadn’t eaten any inari sushi in the end. The battle was brief but extremely intense, so she must have forgotten all about it.

Minato stepped on a small rock as he played those events back in his mind.

His hiking boot slipped forward.

“Whoa!”

He shot his hand out toward a large boulder sitting on the edge of the cliff, and it wobbled, sending some smaller rocks tumbling down to the bottom.

The Yamagami leaped onto the boulder, and it stopped.

Minato righted himself, his heart racing.

“—Th-thank you, Yamagami.”

“Be careful,” the Yamagami said quietly, looking down at Minato from where it sat on the rock. It wasn’t reproachful or angry, simply reminding him to be careful because this path was never meant for human use.

A short while later, they finally reached the end of the rocky path—but that didn’t make walking any easier. Plants blanketed the unkempt mountain. The trees grew thick, and grass was everywhere. Walking down animal trails put nature’s wilderness on full display.

Minato smoothly descended the relatively gentle mountain slope, following the path created by the Yamagami a couple of steps ahead. This way, he could avoid stepping anywhere dangerous.

The Yamagami was the mountain itself. It avoided anywhere that might cause him trouble as it guided him home.

As they kept going through the unchanging scenery, Minato lost his sense of direction.

Looking up at the sky, he could just barely figure out the sun’s location from the strong light coming through the treetops. It was significantly lower than when they’d started up the mountain.

He looked ahead of him and saw that the Yamagami had stopped after passing between some conifers. It waited on a flat path that kept a fixed width, clear signs that it had been made by humans.

“I didn’t know there was a trail here.”

“Aye. But no one uses it anymore.”

“It’s kind of strange that so few people come to your mountain.”

“They could not do so even if they wanted to.”

“Why not?”

The Yamagami gestured with the tip of its nose down the path, where it sloped down gradually through low bushes. “The vine bridge at the end of this path has almost collapsed, so no one can make their way up here.”

“A vine bridge? Like, made from actual vines?”

“Indeed.”

“I had no idea there was anything like that. If it’s almost collapsed, though, then it’s still there. I’d love to check it out. I’ve never seen one.”

“Very well. Follow me.”

The white wolf took the lead, contrasting starkly against the green.

They found the bridge after traversing a rough ridge.

Sure enough, it was made of vines and still spanned the gap across the steep cliff edge. One of the vines had snapped on the other side, causing the bridge to twist halfway.

No human could cross it now.

Minato was impressed that it had stayed up like this.

It’s said that people made vine bridges so that they could cut them down in case they were being chased. However, that’s just one hypothesis, and no one knows whether it’s actually true.

Minato approached the bridge and examined it. Below, a shallow mountain stream wove through boulders.

“That’s…pretty scary…”

As well as being twisted, the narrow, evenly spaced planks of the bridge had unusually large gaps between them. Anyone would easily slip if they weren’t holding the handrail when crossing.

“It’s a long way down to the water. And the river’s shallow, so a person would get seriously injured if they fell.”

“Aye.”

Of course they would, he could almost hear the Yamagami say. The babbling of the river reached Minato’s ears. Doubtless the Yamagami had witnessed a lot of incidents and accidents just like that.

“Are you curious to hear what events have transpired here?”

“No, not really.”

That wasn’t something he wanted to poke his nose into.

The Yamagami nodded, but then gave a mischievous grin and launched into a story.

“This happened when the third master of Echigoya passed through here—”

“You’ve known the Echigoyas for that long?”

It was so unexpected, Minato hadn’t been able to stop himself from interrupting.

Looking down at the river beside Minato, the Yamagami let out a snort. “Not just the third. I have known them since the very first one.”

“No kidding. That’s a long time. You’re almost like the guardian of the Echigoya clan.”

“That would not be overstating the matter. But some have passed through life without me knowing them.”

“That’s right, you were sleeping.”

“Aye.”

That had been easy enough for Minato to infer. The Yamagami cocked its head.

“—Where was I…?”

“Sorry, I interrupted. You were about to say something about the third master of Echigoya.”

“Ah yes. Back when the third master fled to my mountain.”

“He fled here?”

“At the time…he was still in his early teens. He rebelled against everything. He and the second master came here often, arguing about inheriting the business.”

“…It’s a very emotional age.”

“Aye. Everyone experiences such a time.”

The Yamagami cast a quick glance at Minato.

“The boy slipped as he was running across the bridge.”

“That was reckless, even for someone of that age.”

“It happened right at the beginning—he’d only taken three steps. It was almost shameful.”

“That’s a little harsh. But it’s only to be expected…”

“What are you saying? The first and second masters often ran across without incident.”

“They must be superhuman.”

The Yamagami gazed off into space.

“Now…where was I…?”

It was getting sidetracked a lot today.

“The third master,” Minato gently prompted, and the Yamagami nodded solemnly.

“Aye. The chubby third master broke a plank. He became stuck between two boards and started thrashing around. He was just about to fall straight down into the river when I bit down on his neck—”

“Wh-whoa.”

Listening intently, Minato ran a hand over the back of his own neck.

So the Yamagami delivered a killing blow just as the boy was falling? He’s merciless.

The Yamagami glared at him.

“The nape of his clothes, of course.”

“That’s a relief.”

Minato lowered his hand. The Yamagami looked at the rock-hard ground at its feet.

“I tossed him over here. Needless to say, thanks to my assistance, the third master avoided any injury.”

“Well, that’s…good. Yeah.”

He still would’ve had some scratches. Either way, it must have been quite the shock.

“Did you show yourself to him then?”

“Nay, it slipped my mind. I was also somewhat flustered.”

The third master must have been startled, having just been saved from a second life-threatening event on the same bridge. This time, he’d been all alone when he suddenly found himself scooped up from behind and tossed into the air.

“After that, the third master did not return for some time. He was an old man when he came to offer amazake manju as thanks for saving him.”

The Yamagami spoke as if time meant nothing to it, and Minato was once again struck by the fact that a couple of decades meant nothing to the kami.

“Another time, a gust of wind blew the fifth master over the handrail. The river was fuller then, and he was swept quite far downstream, but he ended up with hardly any injuries. He was a very sturdy man.”

Its tail moved almost happily.

“And the eighth. He accidentally fell over the railing, but managed to grab it with one hand and pulled himself back up unassisted. He was well over sixty at the time. I was thoroughly impressed.”

“The Echigoya clan has had too many accidents on your mountain, Yamagami.”

Minato wondered if they had some sort of family rule about it:

No member of the Echigoya family shall climb that mountain.

And keep away from the vine bridge.

The bridge creaked loudly in a flurry of wind.

When it stopped, a kingfisher flew over. It had a long, thin beak, a gorgeous jade-green back, and an orange stomach.

Minato gazed at the vibrant little bird shining in the sunlight.

“That was a kingfisher just now. It’s the first time I’ve seen one. They’re quite beautiful. I see why people call them flying jewels.”

“Hmm, indeed. I have a good number of them on my mountain.”

Human and kami watched the bird fly over the winding river.

“Well, that is enough of the bridge. Let us return home.”

The Yamagami had already turned back up the forest path, and Minato followed.

They didn’t pass anyone on the way home, but they did see a lot of wild animals. Birds chirped endlessly above them, and every now and then, rabbits and deer poked their heads out from between trees.

All the animals seemed relaxed. They didn’t run from Minato, not just because the Yamagami walked ahead of him, but because he was blessed by the Four Spirits.

The pair walked past a field of windflowers.

The white flowers were in full bloom and showed no signs of any trampling. Such a pristine scene could only be preserved because no humans came here.

If people arrived, that would change drastically. They’d bring garbage and interact with the wild animals, and the ecosystem would deteriorate.

Once that happened, it would be extremely difficult to maintain its current state.

“Yamagami, do you not want people coming here?”

“Nay, it matters not to me. They may do as they please.”

The Yamagami wouldn’t do anything but simply accept things as they were.

“Every so often, someone like the Echigoyas comes. I find it quite entertaining.” The Yamagami’s low chuckle shook the air. “Members of another amusing clan used to come as well, but they have not done so in a long time.”

“So a few decades?”

“Perhaps a little before then. They used to own this mountain.”

“Whoa, wait a second. Yamagami, you had an owner?”

That was news to Minato.

Ignoring his surprise, the Yamagami snorted haughtily, showing just how immaterial it considered such things, without saying a word.

“The arbitrary decisions of people are of no concern to me. I am my own master. No human could own me.”

“Well, yeah. I guess that’s true for someone like you… Ow!”

Something bounced lightly off Minato’s head.

Two red berries tumbled to the ground—the fruit of a silverberry, shaped like elongated cherries.

But there weren’t any silverberry trees around them.

Minato looked up and saw a baby monkey next to its mother.

The baby tossed another silverberry, and Minato caught it in one hand. The tiny monkey happily jumped up and down.

The Yamagami, which had also been looking up, glanced over at Minato.

“It is a gift for your help the other day.”

Minato thought it must be talking about when the baby monkey had fallen out of that tree, and he’d caught it in a gust of wind.

“Thank you.”

The baby monkey ducked behind its mother.

Minato picked up the other berries. There were only three of them, but Minato laughed happily looking down at them on his palm.

“I haven’t seen these in so long. They’re really good. I used to get so excited to eat the fruit from the silverberry tree in our house every year. It’s gone now, so I haven’t had any for a long time.”

“There are plenty here. You may pick as many as you want.”

“It’s a little hard to do that now that I know someone owns the mountain here.”

“You need not worry. If I permit it, then it is okay.”

A halo of light surrounded the sitting Yamagami, but it was a softer glow than before. It seemed like it had listened to the complaints of its kin.

“The silverberry trees here were not planted by humans, and no one looks after them. It is a feeding ground for wild animals.”

“…I think I’ll leave them alone, then.”

He couldn’t take any. They served as a precious source of food for these animals.

Just then, an unfamiliar, shrill squawk rang out around them.

A vibrant, beautiful bird emerged from the grass. It was a pheasant, with a green body, red markings on its head, and a breast that shone with a metallic luster.

It hopped toward Minato, its long, pointed tail feathers shaking left and right. He hadn’t expected a pheasant to be so large. It was bigger than a chicken.

As he studied the bird, a slightly smaller one walked out from behind it. Compared to the magnificent male bird in the lead, this one was a modest brown color. It must be the female, which would make them a mating pair.

The two birds stopped next to the Yamagami and crowed again.

“They say, and I quote, ‘There’s loads more that way, so you two should tag along with us.’”

“Do they really talk like that?”

Minato didn’t want to hear such casual speech come from such a divine mouth.

“Of course,” the Yamagami replied indifferently.

Minato looked around. Monkeys, pheasants, and a dog—well, a wolf. But at its current size, the Yamagami looked enough like a dog that you’d mistake it for one.

Seeing all these animals together in one place couldn’t help but remind him of a certain band of heroes from folklore.

Which would make me… An indescribable expression crossed Minato’s face.

He looked at his belt, but no pouch hung there. He was no Momotaro, after all.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never had kibi dango.”

“Is this true?!” The Yamagami suddenly looked fully alert. “Then we must buy some. I shall take you to a quality establishment. It offers a unique selection of kibi dango: white peach, matcha, brown sugar, muscat grape.”

The joy in its voice reminded Minato that the Yamagami was set in its ways. It preferred processed food over the natural bounty of its own mountain.

“You sure know a lot. Did you look it up on the internet?”

“Nay, a local paper. It was featured in last month’s issue. However, there is no beating the original—the crème de la crème, if you will. You should start with regular kibi dango.”

The well-informed kami wagged its tail wildly.

The grass behind it shook again, and this time, Torika poked her head out.

“But first, silverberries,” she declared coolly, then looked up at Minato. “This way.”

The marten took the lead, followed by the wolf and pheasants, while the monkeys swung from branch to branch. Minato brought up the rear.

They walked through the mountain in a line.

Torika looked over her shoulder. “Minato, there are Siberian onions up here as well. You should take some of those, too.”

“Thanks for telling me,” Minato replied immediately.

He was hesitant to take anything now that he knew this mountain was someone’s property, but it was a little late to start feeling bad now. He had to admit that it helped fill the pantry.

A sudden gust of wind blew. Minato thought he heard something.

When he stopped and looked around, he saw a squirrel clinging to the trunk of a nearby tree. It was slightly chubby and had gray fur with a white stomach. Its long, fluffy tail curved back along its body.

It was a Japanese squirrel. And judging from the characteristic splash of white on the tip of its tail, Minato recognized it as one he often saw near the Kusunoki residence.

“Oh, if it isn’t you, Squirrel.”

The squirrel stared at Minato as it raced up the trunk. It always gave him nuts whenever they ran into each other, but it didn’t have anything for him today.

As he watched it scamper away, Minato tugged lightly at his earlobe.

He thought he’d heard some sort of unfamiliar human voice, but it must have been his imagination. Or maybe the squirrel had made the noise.

The strange sound echoing in his mind bothered him slightly.

He followed the group, still mulling it over.

Chapter 6: What Auspicious Beast Skins Bring

Minato stood before the front gate of the Kusunoki residence early in the morning, poised to leave. He’d been there for a few minutes, intending to head out to the local shopping area. But he remained inside the yard, unable to take that first step.

He stared at the ground, his face a study in concentration.

The reason being that his sling bag contained the shed skin Oryu had given him.

So far, the auspicious beasts’ gifts had stayed here at the residence, never once leaving the kami realm.

He had no idea what effect they would have and what kinds of things they would attract. He couldn’t even fathom a guess.

It made him incredibly nervous.

But he couldn’t stay there wondering all day.

Oryu had seemed overjoyed when Minato announced that he was heading out.

When Minato finally looked up, his face was filled with a determination befitting a soldier ready to head into a war zone. Even though he was just headed to the local shopping street.

He released a long breath and reached out to open the gate.

“—Okay, I’m going.”

Minato resolutely slid it open.

He took a single step, putting his sneaker outside the grounds.

The moment it left the kami realm, raindrops fell on it.

“What? It’s raining…?”

His decision to leave had required every ounce of his mental energy, so he hadn’t noticed.

But when he looked up at the sky…

“Whoa!”

A tremendous gale blew toward him, and he flung up an arm to cover his eyes. The ferocious wind loudly ruffled his hair and clothes, bending the camphor trees surrounding the Kusunoki residence. A torrent of leaves danced in the air.

Far above Minato, the wind whirled around the thick rain clouds and pushed them away at a frightening speed. The clouds that produced that downpour had been instantly cleared away from the Kusunoki residence and surrounding area.

Now he wouldn’t need to use an umbrella. Nor, of course, would he need it on the way back.

It was an auspicious start. The skin was already working its magic, even if Minato hadn’t noticed.

The wind subsided, and Minato lowered his arm. Not a single raindrop still fell.

“Huh? The rain stopped…?”

He looked up at the clear sky. Large puddles covered the ground, evidence of the recent precipitation.

“I guess I don’t need an umbrella anymore.”

He turned around and slid the gate shut.

Minato finally set out. Greeting the various animals as he walked, he followed the road between rice fields to find the bus waiting for him at his stop.

Just like usual. He never needed to wait.

The timing was always perfect, like a taxi pulling up right after hailing one.

And this bus stop never saw more than three buses an hour.

A roughly fifteen-minute ride later, the well-used bus stopped near the shopping street. Minato got off the bus, relieved that nothing unusual had happened, and a short walk later he was there.

This shopping arcade was the closest one to the Kusunoki residence and the one Minato came to most often. It consisted of shops lining a single wide path and provided everything he needed, from daily necessities to food.

He could get everything he needed here, so he never felt the urge to explore anywhere else. Minato was a homebody at heart, without the slightest hint of an adventurous spirit, so he came here regularly, always taking the same route, stopping by the same stores, and returning home the same way he’d come.

The people around here knew him well because of his ability to attract various animals—especially birds.

Before he entered the shopping arcade, Minato walked down a street with relatively large stores—all the while surrounded by a variety of animals including dogs, cats, and birds. People stared passing him on the street and watched from houses and buildings.

Had the ho’o accompanied him today, the power lines on both sides of the street would be sagging under the weight of birds. But since it was just Minato, there weren’t too many.

About fifteen meters away from the arcade, a cat walked up behind him and mewed—the calico cat he often met in town. It was someone’s pet, evidenced by the collar around its neck, and its fur shone as brightly today as it had the other times Minato had seen it.

“Good morning,” he said as normal, and the cat meowed in response—a sign that the cat wanted to show Minato something.

This happened frequently. The calico would lead Minato down alleys to some hidden store having a sale.

The cat passed by the shopping arcade and made its way to the entrance to a narrow street between buildings, then turned to look back at Minato.

He didn’t hesitate to follow it. As Minato neared the cat, it dashed nimbly into the alley. Naturally, Minato wasn’t too far behind.

Going down an alley just wide enough to fit one person, he found a secluded store.

The tiny establishment faced another narrow alley, yet it was crowded by people who clearly seemed to live in the neighborhood. They all stood around, containers of all shapes and sizes in hand.

The store gave off a faint scent of soybeans—the smell of tofu. Apparently, there was a sale on at the moment.

Minato looked down to meet the calico’s gaze. It looked very proud.

“Thank you.”

The cat rubbed against his shin and trotted back up the alley.

Minato walked up to the store, a faint smile on his lips. Animals often guided him to places he didn’t intend to go, just like now. He hated to ignore their kindness, though, so he always bought something from the shop they showed him.

Lately, he hadn’t been making firm plans of where to go, just seeing where the day took him.

Once he had everything on his list, he headed for the bus stop.

Naturally, a procession of animals escorted him. Both wild beasts and pets trailed along in his wake.

From time to time, people would look his way with envy. Many were young women, but by far the largest number were children. They stopped, rooted to the spot, parents and guardians looking flustered. Minato felt a little guilty about it.

He had mixed feelings about the covetous attention the animals gave him.

To onlookers, he looked for all the world like some sort of animal whisperer. And while it made sense why they would think that way, the truth was a little different.

More than any affection for Minato himself, this attention came from the blessings bestowed upon him by their leaders.

Quickening his pace, Minato glanced sideways and spied a pudgy man about his own age standing by a utility pole.

The man had a stern face and an unusually powerful gaze. He wore a safari hat pulled low and a vest with lots of pockets. It was an outfit that was easy to move around in, clearly suited for the outdoors.

The man looked away and turned his back to Minato. Their gazes had intersected only for the briefest of moments.

Most people watched Minato good-naturedly, their faces filled with either admiration or joy.

But not this short man.

That was why he left such a strong impression.

Regardless, it wasn’t something Minato found himself worrying about. The man hadn’t done anything, and neither had Minato. They were complete strangers.

Thinking it was about time he went home, Minato headed toward the bus stop.

A black figure dashed across the road a little way in front of him, stopping at the edge. Minato looked at it, assuming it to be the same cat as before playing around, but instead it had a short, round body.

For a second he thought it was a tanuki, but it had a thick, striped tail. The unassuming animal sat on the ground gazing up at him with wide, round eyes.

“It’s a racoon…”

Who could’ve imagined he’d see a racoon in the middle of town?

Racoons are an invasive species with a bad reputation for eating crops and causing other kinds of trouble, so it was probably best not to let anyone else see it.

He chased the racoon down an alley.

Minato was already long gone when there was a loud crash behind him.

A car had driven the wrong way down a one-way street and collided with a motorcycle at the precise location where Minato had been standing. But having left the scene, Minato didn’t notice the commotion the accident had caused.

Minato had avoided another perilous situation, just like always. He was endowed with the blessings of the Four Spirits, so such miracles were daily occurrences for him, whether he carried one of their skins or not.

After saying goodbye to the racoon, he headed back toward the bus stop and came across a booth selling lottery tickets. Needless to say, he hurried past.

One more corner and he’d almost be there.

Minato considered his outing. Even with Oryu’s skin, nothing particularly notable had happened. He figured that he would make it home without incident.

But it wasn’t meant to be.

Just as the bus appeared at the end of the street, something fell from the jacket pocket of the person walking in front of him—a man in his fifties. He didn’t notice, but kept walking, carrying what looked like a heavy box.

Minato couldn’t simply stand by and watch.

He rushed over to find a wallet lying on the ground.

He picked it up and felt its weight. It contained so many bills that it couldn’t even fold properly.

Trying hard not to look at the wallet, he called out to the man’s hunched back.

“Excuse me, you dropped your wallet.”

The man looked behind him, and his eyes went wide when saw the object in Minato’s hands.

“Oh, thank you, young man. You’re a lifesaver.”

That might be a little exaggerated, but he understood the sentiment, considering the vast sum contained in the wallet.

“I’m just glad to help.”

Minato started to return the wallet, but the man’s hands were occupied with a wooden box. The older man looked around and set the box on the empty bus stop bench, then opened the lid and removed a bottle.

It was wine. The plain bottle had a simple label attached to it, which featured a drawing of a bird spreading its wings. It looked incredibly basic.

However, with Oryu’s passion for wine, Minato knew it was a premium brand.

This stuff must be seriously expensive…!

Smiling, the man held out a bottle of the high-quality wine to Minato.

“Please, take this as a token of my gratitude.”

“No, really, there’s no need. I only picked up your wallet…,” Minato insisted, backing up.

But deep down, he knew that his protestations would prove useless.

He had encountered such situations often and learned that no matter how hard he refused, the other person wouldn’t relent.

And, as if to prove him right, the man insisted.

He forced the bottle into Minato’s hands, looking satisfied.

“You’re actually helping me by taking one. This heavy box is really hard to carry. Besides, it was a gift, and I don’t really drink wine much. It’s called ‘Screaming Eagle,’ so it’s a good one for you, Bird Whisperer.”

So this man knew who he was? Even so, Minato gracefully accepted, certain it would make Oryu happy.

What he didn’t know, however, was that this wine had amassed a huge cult following and was universally recognized as a top-tier vintage.

Unexpected baggage in hand, Minato finally made it home after noon. Just as he started to slide open the front gate, he realized something.

“I wasn’t drawn into any kami realms today…”

He was frequently pulled toward them, but it hadn’t happened once today. He hadn’t even had any close calls.

It was probably because of Oryu’s skin.

As Minato closed the sliding door, he decided to report this to Oryu along with the wine.

A few days later, Minato and a bank teller faced each other through a glass partition.

“Congratulations, sir.”

“…Thank you,” he replied to the kindly teller, an awkward smile fixed on his face.

Perched proudly on Minato’s shoulder, the ho’o gave off the impression that this was only to be expected.

The teller slid three thick stacks of bills toward Minato.

It was worth three million yen.

Minato pressed down hard on his sling bag containing Reiki’s shell.

Forgetting that he had Reiki’s shell on him, he had scratched a lottery ticket just before leaving the house this morning and won big. So Minato and the ho’o had gone to the bank to redeem it.

The scratch ticket had been inside a box from his parents.

He’d called home, thinking it might have slipped in accidentally, and his brother answered.

“It’s a birthday present from me. Go on, scratch it right away,” his brother insisted, leaving Minato with no other choice.

And to absolutely no one’s surprise, he hit the jackpot.

His brother had laughed out loud when Minato told him about it, saying, “It’s your ticket, so use it however you want. Happy belated birthday,” before hanging up without waiting for a reply.

Minato left the bank, hunched over and cradling his bag in both arms, casting nervous glances all around. It looked like he’d either just committed a crime or was about to.

He was completely suspicious. But there was no way he could act like normal.

Three million yen’s worth of bills weighed more than he thought. Paying with your phone made it rare for anyone to carry around this much cash these days, so it made him nervous.

His heart hammered in his chest as if he’d just finished a sprint. He was breathing hard.

“It’s okay, everything’ll be okay…,” he unconsciously murmured quietly to himself.

In contrast to Minato, the ho’o looked confused, watching Minato from its perch on his shoulder. It didn’t understand the man’s strange behavior. Or the value of the money.

A plethora of birds lined the walls and power lines on either side of the street. Minato’s mind raced, but as he walked down the street, his thoughts gradually calmed.

Money comes and goes. And just like air and water, it stagnates if you keep it in one place for too long.

Minato stared straight ahead, resolve etched across his face.

“—Right. I’m going to spend it all.”

Minato Kusunoki, at twenty-five years old, was finally going to cut loose.

The kami all preferred the best quality goods, which had brought Minato in contact with lots of expensive things. Even so, he considered himself just an everyday guy.

This was a good opportunity to splurge a bit, though. He would hardly ever see this much cash again.

Well, probably not. He sincerely hoped not.

Minato put that to the back of his mind for the time being, recalling something a certain mountain god currently asleep on the veranda of the Kusunoki residence had once said: Everything is an experience, and it does a person good to feel rich from time to time.

“That’s it—wine. I’ll go buy wine.”

With wine, he could blow a lot of cash in one go.

Of all the drinks enjoyed by the members of the Kusunoki Drinking Club, nothing cost more than wine. Minato had gone online to check the price of the wine he’d been given the day before and had to look away from the screen when it showed that a bottle averaged six to eight hundred thousand yen.

Oryu was still enjoying that wine.

“Let’s go to the liquor store. Bird, you can choose whatever shochu you want.”

“Chirp!” it said, fluttering its wings happily.

Shochu was the ho’o’s drink of choice. Although some brands could demand premium prices, they paled in comparison to the eye-popping cost of certain wines.

Minato didn’t even consider getting something for himself, not even in the very back of his mind. That’s just the type of guy he was. He was accustomed to a minimalist lifestyle. At the moment, there wasn’t anything he really wanted, which didn’t really bother him.

At twenty-five years old, his mindset and personality weren’t going to change.

And kami generally didn’t bless or spend time with people who did change after getting hold of large sums of money.

Deciding to strike while the iron was hot, Minato hurried to Tanba Liquor Store, his usual shop.

He bought some expensive wines that had only just arrived—almost as if they’d been ordered especially for Minato—as well as some shochu the ho’o liked, easily reaching three million yen. It had been surprisingly easy.

Minato’s voice trembled as he listed off the bottles, but that was to be expected of a common man like him. The total it came to was staggering, but he relaxed knowing it had nicely cleared out all the money in his bag.

“Thank you, as always, for shopping with us.”

The clerk at Tanba who always helped him—a man in his mid-thirties—smiled wider than ever. He was practically beaming.

Minato was a strange customer who showed up weekly and somehow always managed to win the top prize in every promotional raffle. Yet he also received VIP treatment because he often bought very expensive bottles of alcohol.

There was nothing but joy in the clerk’s smile as Minato spent lavishly.

The man deftly wrapped the bottles and asked whether Minato would like them shipped to his house, all while the other customers looked on in amazement.

By now, the clerk had memorized the address of the Kusunoki residence and would write it down himself.

Minato walked down the road in high spirits, his sling bag much lighter.

It felt like he’d finally set down a heavy load. That feeling of being a millionaire had disappeared at the speed of light, and now he felt nothing but relief.

“People really should just stick to what they’re used to,” he commented to the ho’o on his shoulder.

“Chirp?”

The ho’o considered “alcohol” as any type of alcohol. It didn’t know that prices varied widely between the types of liquor.

The ever-present fluttering of wings surrounded Minato and the ho’o as they chatted. Flocks of wild birds flew in all directions overhead.

He hadn’t taken the ho’o with him on an outing for a while, so the birds had all been waiting for their leader.

Minato scanned the assembly and spotted a gray-faced buzzard perched on a wall.

It was an extremely rare bird of prey. A relative of the hawk, it was medium-sized with a reddish-brown back, white throat, and horizontal stripes on its stomach.

It stared fixedly at the ho’o before letting out a high-pitched screech.

Just as Minato had feared, some of the people watching—birders, most likely—grew excited. Some even carried DSLR cameras. But thankfully, they only wanted to take pictures of the extremely rare bird.

It wasn’t just the birders, though; lots of people on both sides of the street had stopped to stare at Minato. Today’s unusually large crowd of birds had turned even more attention than usual his way.

Thinking he needed to go somewhere else, Minato rushed over to a park. As he did, he went past a parent and child.

“Look, Mom. The birds came to see the shiny chick on that man’s shoulder,” came an innocent young voice.

Minato looked toward the speaker and saw a boy around seven years old holding his mother’s hand. He was spindly with very curly hair, and he was looking directly at the ho’o.

His mother looked down at him dubiously.

“What do you mean? There isn’t anything there,” she said, quietly chiding him as she tugged on his hand.

The boy pointed at the ho’o in frustration. “There is! Look at his shoulder! There’s a little pink chick on his left shoulder!”

“Stop that! Like I said, there’s nothing there. Please don’t say strange things like that in public. And didn’t I tell you not to point at people?”

She wrapped her hand around the boy’s pointer finger, then smiled apologetically at Minato.

“I’m so sorry. He says such strange things sometimes…”

“—It’s not strange!” the boy said. “Why can’t you see it? It’s there, it really is! It’s right there!” He stomped the ground angrily, looking as if he was about to cry.

“Honestly,” the mother said exasperatedly. “Why do you do this? You always lie and embarrass me.”

It hurt Minato to hear their argument.

It must be tough for the boy, having people deny a world that he could see clearly. How much pain had that caused him?

Just imagining it made Minato’s chest ache.

He could see the ho’o.

Normal people couldn’t, but the boy had special eyes that could see the ho’o even though it was hiding itself.

Minato differed a little from that boy, but he had also been able to see otherworldly creatures from a very young age. The figures he saw had been hazy, but he’d immediately understood that they weren’t human.

The first person he ever spoke to about it was his late grandfather.

Luckily, his grandfather could see those nonhuman beings very clearly, so he never denied the world Minato saw. Neither did anyone else in his family.

At the time, his grandfather had told him:

“You can’t talk about this with anyone outside of the family.

“If you don’t want people to treat you like you’re crazy, then you never tell them that yokai exist in the world.”

Looking back, he felt so grateful for his grandfather’s warning. After all, most people only believed what they could see.

Which was exactly why Minato said:

“It is there.”

His clear, powerful voice resonated through the air.

The downcast boy looked up. His teary eyes met Minato’s, who gave him a warm smile.

“It is. Right there on my shoulder. A cute pink chick.”

He didn’t know if telling the boy would make him feel any better. But Minato wanted to let him know that someone who could see the same things was standing right there in front of him.

The ho’o looked up to the sky and chirped high, long, and full.

The throng of wild birds ascended into the air, and people everywhere turned to watch. Birds of all types, sizes, and colors formed a single flock and flew together, left and right, forward and back. Every bird followed whenever the leaders changed direction. They formed multiple columns, then a single line, and finally a circle, moving with the precision of stunt planes.

Everyone in town gazed in wonder at the spontaneous wild bird airshow.

On the ground below, the ho’o materialized atop Minato’s shoulder.

It puffed out its chest inside a ring of fluttering feathers, the very image of the shiny pink chick the boy had described.

The sight turned the mother’s eyes wide.

“…I can’t believe it. It really was there…,” she whispered, covering her mouth with both hands.

Hearing his mom’s admission, the boy smiled broadly.

As Minato looked over at his shoulder, the ho’o opened its wings wide, revealing its undeniable presence for the mother to see.

The crowd stayed fixated on the wild birds flying in the air.

Only one person’s attention was elsewhere—a short man in a safari hat, hidden behind a telephone pole, who watched Minato with a smile.

Minato returned home with the ho’o nestled in his pocket, having fallen asleep on the bus ride.

As he passed through the front gate, the tiny wolf ran cheerfully toward him from the garden. It was a rare sight, considering how slowly it usually moved.

“I’m back, Yamagami.”

“Hmm. You have returned early.”

Its voice carried the same relaxed tone as ever—but its actions were a different story.

It circled Minato’s legs, restless nose turned upward. Minato continued toward the house, and it followed close behind, sniffing at the sweet scent wafting from the plastic bag on Minato’s arm.

The bag, naturally, held amazake manju from Echigoya.

The Yamagami didn’t jump up, but otherwise it acted exactly like an innocent little wolf cub. It was just as restless as Utsugi.

With the wolf glued to his heels, Minato mused that the Yamagami seemed to act younger when it shrank.

“Yamagami, you go on ahead,” he said, sounding slightly put out. He worried that he might accidentally kick the Yamagami as he walked.

“Very well.”

Yet despite saying that, it only moved a short distance away. It hopped up and down, craned its neck, and sniffed the air, not showing the slightest inclination of going on ahead.

It was hopeless.

Minato resignedly extended his arm to the side, and the bag holding the amazake manju swayed above the Yamagami. He went into the garden, luring the Yamagami like someone dangling a carrot in front of a horse’s nose.

Minato busily moved around, placing the ho’o inside the stone lantern and putting away his shopping. As he was doing that, the Yamagami settled down next to the table on the veranda.

Needless to say, the amazake manju sat on the table. The Yamagami seemed unwilling—or more unable—to separate itself from the sweet scent. It got as close as possible to the captivating smell, leaning back on its haunches and holding its front paws high.

That is, it was sitting up on its cushion, begging.

Though it lacked any trace of dignity, its front paws didn’t touch the table, though he expected as much of the Yamagami. Minato laughed whenever those paws twitched with unrestrained excitement.

Half shocked by this extremely rare, funny sight, Minato quickly yet carefully prepared the tea.

As Minato carried the tray out onto the veranda, the Yamagami’s tail immediately sped up, wagging so fast, it was just a blur in the air. The strong wind it produced dispersed the steam rising from the teacups and disheveled Minato’s hair.

“Yamagami, would you calm your wind a little?”

“Apologies. I cannot.”

There was a hint of distress in the restless Yamagami’s voice. It seemed like it couldn’t control itself now that it was smaller.

Minato decided that he should probably let it eat.

First, though, he cut the amazake manju in half to make it bite-sized for the Yamagami.

The Yamagami bit into a piece of manju as soon as Minato offered it the plate. Instantly, its eyes sparkled so brightly that Minato was sure he saw a vision of the Big Bang behind it.

Then, munch…munch…munch. It chewed as slowly as Reiki walked. It might act younger, but the Yamagami ate at the same slow and steady pace as always.

It was savoring the sweets in every sense of the word.

“You know,” Minato piped up, “I always think it must make Echigoya very happy that you savor their sweets like that.”

He didn’t get a reply. The Yamagami just continued to wag its tail and enjoy its food.

This was the normal routine, though, so Minato didn’t mind. He set the tray of tail-cooled tea by the tiny wolf’s feet. He thought twice about putting it on the floor, but with the Yamagami’s current size, there was no other option.

After finishing the last piece of amazake manju, the Yamagami finally came back to its senses. It gracefully gripped the teacup between its front paws and wet its throat.

Across from the Yamagami, Minato rested his chin in a hand as he skimmed the local magazine he’d just bought. It was full of articles about Hojyo—the town in which the Kusunoki residence was located—and was the Yamagami’s regular source of information. Minato had picked it up from the convenience store on his way home.

Flipping through the issue, he spotted a feature on wagashi stores.

Another one, thought Minato. The title, “With the Rainy Season Here, Why Not Try Traditional Wagashi?” hinted at a topic few articles ever covered.

That seemed like a bit of a stretch for something to write about.

“This magazine has a feature on wagashi every month,” he said. “I know we have an unusually high number of wagashi shops around here, but even so, I feel like they give them special treatment.”

“It is for my sake.”

“What do you mean…? Does it have something to do with the magazine’s logo being a wolf?”

The symbol was featured in prominent locations throughout the magazine. It was a stylish logo that had a circle around the silhouette of a face that clearly belonged to a majestic wolf.

Actually, in all honesty, it could be a dog.

That is, if not for the striking letters spelling WOLF beneath the logo, which, just like the kami before him, forcefully asserted I am a wolf.

It was the publisher’s logo. Even though their name wasn’t in any way related to wolves.

“Naturally, that is I.”

With a quick glance at the magazine, the Yamagami turned to show its profile. It lifted its chin, closed its eyes, folded its ears back, and opened its mouth slightly, striking the same howling pose as the logo.

“It certainly does look just like you… So you were the model for this? I thought you liked it because it had a wolf on the logo.”

Hojyo had two local magazines, but the only one the Yamagami liked was this one with the wolf logo. One time, Minato had bought the other magazine, but the Yamagami hadn’t even glanced at it, let alone read it.

“You’re so biased, Yamagami.”

“Everyone prefers those who treat them well. It is natural to look out for them.”

“…Well, sure, I can understand that. Do you know the publisher?”

“Certainly. Not the current one, but their ancestors. When we first met, the magazine was still made with woodblock prints.”

“Woodblock printing… That was used in the Edo period, right…? That’s a long time ago… Actually, two hundred years isn’t all that long.”

Spending all his days among kami had affected Minato’s own sense of time.

“Aye, I would not call it long ago. Just a short while.”

The Yamagami nodded as though this made complete sense.

None of the other kami would’ve been concerned by their somewhat peculiar conversation. Though none of them were really listening.

The pleasing sound of the waterfall echoed through the garden.

Reiki leaned forward over the large rock and dived into the waterfall basin. Oryu swam in circles beneath the arched bridge. The kirin was still absent, off traveling somewhere.

Silence reigned around the two stone lanterns in the corners of the garden.

In the middle of that garden filled with beings entertaining themselves, the camphor tree let its three young leaves sway in the wind, absorbed in photosynthesis. It hoped that water would be coming soon, but waited admirably.

Suddenly, the Yamagami yawned wide enough that it looked like it would dislocate its jaw. It blinked sluggishly.

“…You look pretty tired, Yamagami.”

“Hmm, a bit… It seems…I did not sleep…enou—”

It stopped mid-sentence.

The wolf froze, its back hunched where it sat, and its eyes half-closed. It didn’t move a muscle.

“Yamagami?” Minato called out several times, but it never answered.

At first glance, the situation might seem distressing, but there was no need to worry.

The Yamagami was just asleep.

Minato had to chuckle to himself.

“You should at least close your eyes.”

The Yamagami would sometimes freeze up when it was extremely sleepy or deep in thought. Minato had seen it happen several times by now. Its eyelids were cracked open just a little this time, but sometimes the Yamagami would freeze with its eyes wide. It looked just like a stone statue when that happened, transforming into a magnificent new decoration for the Kusunoki residence.

The time it took to reboot varied and could take anywhere from a few minutes to several days.

During those periods of time, Minato just lived his normal life and didn’t bother the Yamagami.

When would it start moving this time? Sometime today or the day after tomorrow?

Minato was mulling this over as he cleared the table, when he heard the Yamagami growl. Its throat rumbled, and wrinkles appeared around its nose.

But just as Minato was thinking how quickly it had woken up this time…

“…Young man, is this really the best amazake manju…you can make now…? Hmph… How shameful. With these skills…you will not be able…to inherit Echigoya. I will not allow it!”

It was talking loudly in its sleep, critiquing a middle school boy—the twelfth master’s grandson, who would become the thirteenth master of Echigoya.

The Yamagami often talked in its sleep. It would speak at the same volume asleep as it did awake, which often took Minato by surprise.

It complained, even though it had just spent so much time savoring the manju.

Today at Echigoya, the man in the kitchen was the young prospective thirteenth master. He had likely been the one to make the amazake manju Minato had bought.

Minato hadn’t eaten any, but even if he had, he wouldn’t have known who’d made them.

Anything it didn’t particularly like, the Yamagami would swallow whole. Yet today, it had taken its time eating the amazake manju, so it shouldn’t be dissatisfied enough to complain like this.

The Yamagami set its standards far too high. It was just passionate about helping them improve their skills.

“Always so critical, aren’t you…? It may have shrunk, but it’s still the Yamagami.”

The Yamagami might be acting a little strange, but there was no need for concern.

Minato chuckled as he walked back into the house.

At last, only one of the molted skins remained.

More accurately, it wasn’t a skin, but scales.

Yes, those left behind by the kirin’s unique shedding.

It was the most intimidating of the three items shed by the kami and could invite any kind of miracle or trouble.

Reiki was connected to money. Oryu’s specialty was wine. The results of their gifts had made sense in a way.

Minato honestly hadn’t felt that their effects had been all that strong. The kirin had told him they would turn him into a lord, but they didn’t seem anywhere near that powerful.

Surprisingly, nothing happened with this kirin’s scales, either.

Minato was already on his way back home from doing the grocery shopping, and it had been smooth sailing so far. He’d tucked a few scales inside his sling bag and left the house ready for anything, gone to his usual shopping street, followed his regular route, and failed to encounter anything out of the ordinary.

Disrespectful as it might sound, he felt strangely let down.

But the most important thing was that it hadn’t caused him any undue stress.

At least, that was what Minato thought—but he didn’t know the half of it.

The scales had a tremendous effect that Minato simply hadn’t noticed.

As he’d been walking down the street without a care in the world, a number of incidents had occurred, with each one quickly resolving itself.

Someone had recently been following Minato whenever he went to the shopping street—a short man with his safari hat pulled down low. Today, he had met all sorts of misfortune.

That man was an avid birder with a particular fondness for wild birds. He traveled Japan in his free time to spot and photograph wild birds he’d never seen before and had devoted his life to increasing his collection.

However, this small man had a difficult personality.

He was an unscrupulous character who only thought about how to use Minato for his own personal gain. And he was particularly interested in the pink chick he’d heard about.

The man couldn’t see the ho’o. However, he figured that if it did exist, he could get close to Minato and steal it for himself.

A villain like that could never get close to Minato. While that was normally the case, it was truer than ever today.

And it was all thanks to that misanthropic kirin’s scales, which mercilessly repelled people.

One time, for example, the short man had been planning on calling out to Minato from behind. He’d started to hurry toward Minato when a group of stray cats walked right in front of him, and the man lost his balance and stuck one foot in a ditch, covering himself in mud.

Another time, when the short man contrived to meet Minato by bumping into him from the side, a racoon leaped at him from atop a wall, and he fell onto his rear, hitting the sidewalk hard.

Things like that just kept happening. Countless wild animals got in his way, preventing him from approaching Minato. He couldn’t even get within four and a half meters of his target.

However, no matter how many obstacles he encountered and how completely worn out he got, he didn’t give up.

He’d tried to say something to Minato as he was leaving a store—when a barrage of bird poo fell on him from above like a rainstorm. Minato didn’t notice because he’d been looking down and wandered off toward his bus stop without so much as a backward glance.

The small man covered in bird poo glared up at the sky, where a murder of crows was scolding him with their cawing. While the man adored wild birds, he had no love for crows.

He picked up a stone, but as he cocked his arm back to throw it, another glob of poop smacked him right in his already filthy face.

The group of crows soared above the shopping street in a cacophony of high-pitched cawing.

Walking below them, Minato looked up in confusion.

“They’re making a lot of noise today… Your leader’s doing fine, though. So why…?” he asked a baby crow hopping beside him.

The little bird let out a cheerful caw, sounding almost as if it were laughing.

The animals were excitable today. Minato could feel the tension in the air.

“I wonder if it’s because of the kirin’s scales…”

It seemed best to get back home as soon as possible. As that thought crossed his mind, Minato began to feel strangely thirsty.

Looking around, he spotted a vending machine on the street. He could just quickly grab something and drink it there.

Minato unzipped his sling bag in front of the vending machine.

Just then, a black luxury car squealed to a stop about ninety-one meters up the road from him. The back door flew open, and a man emerged from the car. Squatting slightly, he bolted toward Minato.

He was a tall, middle-aged man.

Sunlight reflected off his short, silver-gray hair. He looked sharp in an elegant suit, his lean physique a far cry from the flabby body of most older men. His light overcoat flapped as he rushed forward.

As he removed his coin purse, Minato looked up and spotted the strange man. His jaw dropped slightly in shock.

The man gracefully vaulted over the red and white guardrail between them like a hurdler, without breaking stride. And he did it all wearing shiny leather shoes.

The breakneck sprint of this handsome middle-aged man was overwhelmingly intense. Wild animals nearby opened up a path for him, instinctively sensing danger.

Displaying superb form, he zigzagged through the crowd of people, his gaze fixed on one point: the sling bag in Minato’s hand.

A shiver ran through Minato when he realized the man was headed for his bag—in other words, for him. If he took a half step backward, he’d hit the vending machine. He tried to walk sideways to escape, but the man came to a sudden stop a few paces away.

There wasn’t a drop of sweat on his brow, and he wasn’t breathing heavily at all. He gave Minato a bright smile as he straightened his hair and clothes.

The man was extraordinarily athletic. If Minato hadn’t just witnessed what he had, he would have assumed he was a gentleman through and through. That is, if he hadn’t seen the man’s mad dash that had attracted so much attention.

The people walking down the street were just as astonished, having followed the man with bulging eyes and craned necks.

Although he seemed to be looking at Minato, his eyes stayed locked on the bag. He didn’t care about anything else. In the back of his mind, Minato thought the man might be able to see something he couldn’t.

He gave Minato a dashing smile.

“Nice to meet you, Jade Man.”

Not Jade One, but Jade Man.

It was a variant of the name the Harima clan had called him not so long ago. But he wasn’t worried that the man knew his name.

His appearance, his manner of speaking, and his voice all reminded Minato of one person.

He was just like Saiga Harima.

This man looked how Minato imagined Saiga would look in twenty years. But in contrast to Saiga’s deadly serious face, this man was always smiling and seemed incredibly friendly.

Minato returned the greeting, and, as expected, the man introduced himself as Saiga’s father. He also thanked Minato for all the talismans.

After the regular pleasantries, Mr. Harima casually removed something from his jacket pocket.

It was another thick wallet.

Minato’s expression took on a faraway look. He blankly wondered how many people still used cash these days.

After that, Mr. Harima’s tone turned serious.

“You have something from the Four Spirits with you, correct? I would very much appreciate it if I could buy it off you.”

The scales were in a zipped pocket on the inside of his bag—inside another little cloth bag. No one could have seen them from outside.

Yet Saiga’s father had, and he knew they came from the Four Spirits. He’d said it with unwavering certainty.

He must be exceptionally talented.

“Name your price, and I’ll pay it,” Mr. Harima added with a stern expression.

That initiative he showed and his speech matched Saiga’s perfectly. He looked cool and collected, but he pursued things with a single-minded devotion that made Minato chuckle inwardly.

However, he couldn’t sell the scales the kirin had gifted him without its permission.

Minato gripped his sling bag and pressed it to his stomach.

“I’m very sorry, but I don’t plan on ever selling them to anyone.”

“I’ll do anything! Please! Would you please sell them to me?!”

Mr. Harima bowed low, his body bending at a right angle. Minato couldn’t believe it.

“Please, I’m begging you!”

He asked again and again in a loud, clear voice.

It wasn’t a good look having such an influential-looking person bowing to him in public. People walking down the street stopped out of curiosity, and a crowd began to form.

“Wow! So the Bird Whisperer can tame humans as well as birds and cats?”

All the locals had started calling Minato the “Bird Whisperer.”

“Whoa, that’s crazy. The other day, I saw a racoon and rats following him, too. And a little while ago, a snake.”

“Seriously…? How does he do it?”

Hearing that conversation, Minato panicked and pleaded with Saiga’s father.

“Please stop! Stand up!”

“I have no intention of doing so until you agree!”

“You’re so stubborn! You’re just like Saiga!”

“You’ve got it backward. He’s like me.”

“I guess?! Just please just stop bowing!”

“No! Not until you say that you will sell them to me!”

Ignoring the crowd of onlookers, they continued to argue noisily without getting anywhere.

What Minato didn’t know was that Saiga’s father had the ability to see through things—a sixth sense of sorts. He had framed the talisman with the footprint of the Yamagami and Reiki and hung it in his office as one of his most prized possessions.

His reputation as a collector of anything kami-related preceded him in certain circles.

But Minato had no idea about any of this.

Mr. Harima had guilelessly approached Minato, showing that he wasn’t a bad or twisted person. He was just a little overzealous in his love for all things relating to kami.

And when he found something he had to have, he paid no mind whatsoever to his surroundings.

He also prayed to the talisman in the golden frame every morning and every night.

The crowd of people continued to stare in wonder until the argument between these two strange men resolved itself.

In the end, Minato gave in and sold Mr. Harima one of the scales.

He later apologized to the kirin when it returned from its trip, but the kami didn’t seem to mind at all. It simply gave him a confused look and said, “Did I not tell you to do with them as you please?”

And with that, Minato’s investigation into the effects of the kami’s molted husks was complete.

This unexpected meeting with Saiga’s father exhausted him, but he was relieved that the kirin’s scales hadn’t had any major effect up until then. He’d also learned an important lesson: When people go through an intense experience, the rest feels easy in comparison.

There was nothing wrong with not knowing all the effects of the kami’s husks.

Or at least so thought the Yamagami, who knew almost everything.

Chapter 7: An Unwelcome Gift

It had been raining since the morning, but even now that it had let up, light-gray clouds covered the sky.

Air from such an overcast sky should chill the skin, but the garden of the gods stayed nice and warm. Minato faced his desk on the veranda in short sleeves, brush in hand.

He’d started making talismans after lunch and had been at it for around two hours.

The garden was quiet. Only the sound of the waterfall could be heard; even the wild birds that had been visiting every day were all gone.

The kami realm was closed off while Minato made his talismans, so that nothing would disturb his concentration.

Having the ho’o there also helped. It sat on the table in front of him, its stern gaze analyzing the talismans intensely enough to burn holes in them.

Minato drew the lines at a steady pace. They weren’t wobbly or bent but maintained a consistent thickness and length. And, naturally, they all contained an equal amount of elimination and sealing power.

Each set of hatched jade lines was perfect.

A solemn tension filled the area around the table.

But right beside it, the Yamagami snored on its cushion, belly exposed to the world.

The god of the mountain was sleeping like a log, completely carefree. Big or small, it never changed. The Yamagami was always like this, though, so it didn’t bother anyone.

The other kami amused themselves with their usual pastimes. Reiki strolled next to the gently flowing river, while Oryu had emerged lazily from underwater to climb the waterfall.

Peaceful, relaxing scenes filled every corner of the garden. A feeling of serenity drifted through the air.

However, this all soon came to an abrupt end.

The Yamagami woke with a start.

Suddenly, as if that had been some sort of signal, the entire atmosphere of the garden changed dramatically.

The little wolf jumped up. Reiki’s eyes snapped wide open, and it took a firm stance. Oryu emerged from the waterfall and spread its wings as if trying to intimidate someone. The ho’o’s feathers stood on end.

Everyone was on high alert.

Minato also looked up. The Yamagami fixed its gaze on a point high in the sky a little above the ridge of the mountain, quickly followed by the three auspicious beasts.

At first, there was nothing there but a black dot in the cloudy sky.

But as it approached, it steadily grew larger. It was a dark lump swirling with miasma. The long tail in its wake made it look like a black comet.

The miasma approached, large enough to easily cover the Kusunoki residence.

The Yamagami fixed its gaze on the center and let out a deep sigh.

“It’s possessed again…”

The words sounded like a joke, but its tone was serious.

“…That’s Kirin…isn’t it?”

From where Minato was, he could only see the vague outline of the kirin running around in a veil of black mist. Its luminous body, which was normally so hard to look at directly, now appeared so translucent that he had to squint to see it.

The Yamagami jumped down from the veranda and headed to the rear gate.

Minato took his notepad from his pocket and set it next to the ho’o. It contained enough jade light to cover the grounds.

The ho’o looked at him as if it was about to say something, but Minato silenced it with a look and stood up. He was holding the talisman that he’d just made.

“I’ll be right back,” he said quietly, then turned his back to the ho’o.

An opportunity to test out his new talismans had presented itself.

The kirin had once returned home possessed before it started living at the Kusunoki residence, so this made the second time.

Previously, the Yamagami had walked up to it with Minato’s notepad in its mouth and easily remedied the situation. Minato hadn’t been able to see anything either before or after it was purified.

This time, even though it looked faint, he could make out the miasma.

In which case, it must be possessed by a powerful evil.

Minato caught up with the Yamagami just as it reached the rear gate.

The black lump continued its steady approach.

Staring hard at it, the tiny wolf scrunched up its face in disgust. As it did, Minato lifted it up by the sides, and its four legs dangled in the air.

“What is this?” the Yamagami asked, wide-eyed, as Minato placed it next to the gate.

He put his hands on the little wolf’s shoulders, forced it to sit, and held it firmly as if to root it to the spot.

“Yamagami, you don’t need to go. Stay.”

“…Hmph.”

The Yamagami had no choice but to obey such a stern and sincere command. It could only sit like a guard dog and watch as Minato slid open the gate.

Minato stepped outside the property at almost the exact same time as the miasma descended to the clearing in front of the rear gate.

The black mass spun, scattering miasma all around it and instantly plunging the area into shadow.

But it didn’t affect Minato. His superlative resilience to corruption safeguarded him from any ill effects.

He walked steadily, his upper body hunched to steady himself. The black mass sped toward him, and Minato caught it between the talismans in his hands.

The evil spirit dispersed instantly.

It had looked like a wormlike spirit writhing around the kirin. Minato might not have acted so quickly had he seen its revolting form.

Regardless, this talisman’s elimination power wouldn’t activate without directly coming into contact with the evil being. It had worked without issue.

Elimination power had constantly seeped out of his previous talismans, indiscriminately eliminating every evil spirit nearby. But with this new version, he’d used his ability to seal the elimination power into the talismans, preventing them from needlessly exhausting their effects.

However, the seal didn’t hold for very long. He needed to improve so that his talismans could retain their power for months or even years.

Minato looked down at the kirin in his arms. Its limp body was transparent and shaking.

“Kirin…”

He called out its name, but the kirin didn’t respond. Its eyes wouldn’t focus. Minato’s face clouded over.

“It has simply fainted. Bring it here. Not the slightest trace of corruption remains,” the Yamagami said from behind him.

Minato straightened himself up, still holding the kirin, and walked back toward the house.

The Yamagami led him to the open-air onsen.

It nodded toward the steaming water.

“Toss it in there.”

“I can’t be so rough with it like that.”

Minato bent down and gently slid the kirin into the water. Once half of its body was submerged, life returned to those dazed eyes. It looked at Minato and blinked repeatedly, a stunned expression on its face.

It looked like it didn’t know what had happened to it.

“Are you okay?” Minato asked.

The kirin suddenly jumped up.

“Whoa!”

Hot water splashed on Minato as he steadied himself against a big rock.

It was as agile as ever. In a flash, it had darted back to the arched bridge. Minato was relieved to see that it could at least run.

The kirin backed up to the edge of the bridge and trembled, just like it used to do imagining all the terrible things Minato might do to it.

The kirin despised humans.

Even though Minato had rescued the kirin and it knew he wasn’t a threat, he was still human. That instinctual hatred wouldn’t disappear so easily. It would put up with being touched by a human in an emergency, but it still didn’t like it.

Minato sensed that, so he didn’t try to approach.

If the kirin had recovered enough to sprint over to the arched bridge, then it should be okay.

Relieved, Minato looked next to him, where the Yamagami wagged its tail.

“What did I tell you?” the Yamagami said. “It recovered instantly, did it not? It might even be a little too energized.”

“It looks like it’s back to normal. I’m glad it’s feeling better.”

Minato stood and looked toward the arched bridge.

The kirin sat in front of Reiki and Oryu, looking deflated.

“Are Turtle and Dragon scolding it…?”

“They are chastising its carelessness and recklessness, and telling it to settle down and act its age.”

“…That’s kind of harsh. I guess they’ve known each other for a long time, though. But it’s not the kirin’s fault it was possessed.”

“…Perhaps not.”

The kirin liked traveling. You could even say it had wanderlust.

When it was at the Kusunoki residence for extended periods of time, it would frequently change where it slept. It had trouble staying in one place—a drastic contrast to the happily reclusive Reiki and Oryu.

The kirin glanced at Minato.

“It is apologizing for not bringing any gifts.”

“Thank you, Kirin. I always look forward to the rare fruits you bring back, but you don’t have to go out of your way to find them.”

Its life was more important. Minato wanted it to prioritize its own safety above all else.

A strained expression crossed Minato’s face as he implicitly tried to convey this to the kirin.

The Yamagami sighed lightly and stood.

“We cannot ask it not to travel,” the wolf grumbled as it headed toward the veranda.

Minato followed close behind. “Whatever happens, Kirin is always so excited to set out for its next trip…”

The three auspicious beasts continued to argue noisily, but unable to hear it, Minato pondered to himself:

“Is there anything we could do…? Like, could we tell it to carry a notepad with elimination power? Kirin always brings back some fruit, so it has somewhere it can carry things.”

“Nay, placing it there would block the elimination power.”

“So it’s like a kami realm?”

“Precisely.”

The Yamagami jumped gracefully up onto the veranda. Behind it, Minato glanced across to the edge of the wooden deck as he removed his sandals.

There, invisible to Minato’s eyes, was the entrance to a storehouse filled with camphor leaves and lumber.

The Yamagami had created a new space to store the considerable number of products they had from the camphor tree. Minato called it the “Vault.” He had moved Reiki’s shell, the kirin’s scales, and Oryu’s skin there as well.

“Oh, I know. How about I carve something on one of the pieces of camphor wood so that Kirin can wear it?”

“Ahh.”

The Yamagami sat on its cushion facing the edge of the veranda. With a wave of its front paw, a small piece of wood appeared on the table. Perfectly square, it looked like it could make about five doorplates.

Minato frowned slightly and sat down in front of the wood. “I would have gotten a piece from the Vault if you’d opened the door for me.”

“Is this not easier?”

“Utsugi was right, Yamagami; you use your divine power too carelessly.”

“Such a trifle does not require any of my power. Anyway, were you not going to carve on it?” the little wolf said, slowly lowering itself onto the cushion that dwarfed its body.

Minato let out a soft sigh and picked up the piece of wood. One face shone as though it had been sanded, while the other side was rough and coarse.

The shiny side was where Fujin had cut it; the coarse side, where Minato had.

He ran a finger over both sides, comparing them.

“It always strikes me how different my cuts are from Fujin’s…”

Minato’s finger had gotten caught on lots of spots when he’d moved it across his side. He had been panicking when he’d made his cuts, but even so, the difference in skill overwhelmed him.

“Chirp!”

Sitting ready on the table, the ho’o pushed at the notepad with its beak.

“Thanks.”

As Minato put the notepad back in his pocket, the ho’o’s intense gaze burned into the wood.

“Ho’o seems rather curious about this,” the Yamagami commented.

“Oh, is that because I said I was going to carve it?”

The ho’o nodded vigorously.

“I’m just going to cut it smaller and carve something into it. It’ll be like a mini version of the doorplates.”

“Ho’o has never seen you carve.”

“Now you mention it, it’s always been sleeping when I made the doorplates.”

Based on the way it had fluffed up its feathers, it seemed the ho’o was expecting something impressive. It made Minato a little nervous.

“It’ll be a pretty simple job. I’ll just carve on the small piece of wood and put a string through it or something so Kirin can wear it around its—”

But he stopped himself short as something occurred to him.

“No, wait. That might end up looking like a sort of collar… Bird, do you think Kirin won’t like that?”

“Ho’o says that if it doesn’t, tie the wood to it with a straw rope.”

“That’s unexpectedly harsh…”

The ho’o narrowed its eyes slightly and flapped its wings. It must have been because it was worried. Probably.

Minato glanced over to the bridge where the kirin and Oryu were standing on the handrail butting horns. Each clash released a spark of iridescent light. It seemed like quite a fierce battle.

“It looks like it’s back to normal.”

The kirin was at its best when it was overflowing with energy.

Seemingly unaffected by the whole affair, Reiki sat on the big rock, enjoying the spray from the waterfall.

Minato relaxed, smiling at the everyday sight of the Kusunoki residence.

Looking out onto the garden from the veranda, he tossed the piece of wood up into the air and cut it in half with a gust of wind. The two wooden pieces fell onto a sheet spread out beneath.

He repeated the process, leaving the pieces smaller each time.

Minato always imbued his wind with divine power when he was using it to cut something, but the power wasn’t quite stable yet.

The jade-colored wind blade flew easily from Minato’s fingertips. However, the intensity of its blue crescent tip varied greatly, and it rippled like a katana with a midareba blade pattern.

Minato picked up one of the long, thin pieces of wood.

“Being able to control wind really is so convenient. I’m so glad I don’t need a saw.”

“Yet the cuts are still not clean,” the Yamagami teased, gazing up at him from its prone position.

Minato examined the pieces of wood. The surface was still rough and didn’t shine.

“You’re right. If I get better, I probably won’t even need a plane or sandpaper, either.”

“Chirp!”

Perched on Minato’s shoulder, the ho’o drew a circle with a wing.

“It’s telling you to try making it round now, like a cylinder.”

“Round… I’ve never tried that before. That’s a huge step up in terms of difficulty.”

Minato gave it a go for a while, but nothing came out right. Some pieces split and others broke up completely.

“I’m going to give up on this. It’s a waste of the camphor wood,” he said, picking up the pieces of wood on the sheet.

Everything had been cut, so it was time for the main event.

Minato ran his chisel over the wood, imbuing it with his elimination power. Each pass of the sharp blade over the surface scattered curly shavings.

The ho’o stood directly in front of him, transfixed by the process.

Its large eyes sparkled. It adored craftsmanship, so it found Minato’s actions exhilarating.

The piece of wood he was using for the kirin was as big as a dog tag. At that size, it wouldn’t get in the way, even when hanging from its neck. He took his time carving the lines, avoiding any lettering so no one could figure out who made it if it went missing somewhere.

He knew that the camphor leaves crumbled and disappeared when they lost their power. The wood, however, he wasn’t sure about.

“Ho’o is impressed by how naturally you carve.”

“I’ve actually been doing this for a while.”

As he spoke, Minato examined the direction of the wood grain and angled the wood to match without so much as a pause. The chisel in his hand was obviously well-used as well, and he always sharpened it whenever it started to dull.

“Along with the doorplates, I also made key holders for each room of our onsen inn. Normally, I just carved the name of the room in it.”

“Ho’o is surprised that you named the rooms.”

“It’s pretty common; most hotels do it. Otherwise, customers won’t know which room is theirs.”

He glanced up at the ho’o, who chirped in understanding.

“But even then, sometimes guests did get lost.”

“And some people would lose their key chain,” he murmured to himself. The Yamagami heard, however, and cocked its head.

“You said as much before. That you made a lot of these ‘key chains’ because they would go missing.”

“For some reason, a lot of customers lost them. We’d ask them about it, but people always said that at some point they just realized it was gone. We even attached them using metal wires so they wouldn’t come off, but guests would still sometimes only return the key.”

The Yamagami scoffed. “What unabashedly brazen theft.”

Minato stopped his work, a wry smile on his face. “I used to think so, too…but I know the reason now. The people who could see the elimination power in the key holders would steal them.”

He continued carving as he talked. So long as he was only imbuing elimination power, he could chat and work at the same time.

With each movement of the chisel, jade elimination power seeped into the wood. The ho’o hopped around Minato’s work area watching fixedly.

“But it wasn’t always the same people. Most people were staying there for the first time. Do you think they all saw the power in the key chains?”

“…It is uncertain. These days, few people can see or sense such unique power.”

“I’m sure. Nobody said anything about the doorplates or key chains, and very few people must have been able to see anything… But that might just be because if they had said something about it, people would have treated them like they were crazy…”

Most people only believe what they can see. If you start claiming that you see things others can’t, then people might worry that you’ve gone insane.

One misstep could even potentially ruin long-standing relationships.

“That said, I’m not sure I’d call them thieves.”

“And why is that?”

“It wasn’t every time, but… Occasionally, with people who returned just the key, we’d find an envelope saying sorry on the table when we went to clean their room. There was usually a fair amount of cash inside. I think they left it as payment for the key chain and the trouble.”

“Why not pay for it directly?”

“I’m not sure. They usually reserved one of the suites… And there was some sort of colorful design on their skin…”

“Hmm.”

Minato didn’t elaborate further, and the Yamagami waved its tail, indicating that he didn’t have to tell the kami everything.

The ho’o seemed confused. It didn’t know as much about the outside world, so it didn’t understand what they were talking about.

“But they never caused any trouble,” Minato continued. “They’d stay quietly for a couple of days, then leave looking refreshed.”

“…Is that so?”

Hunched over on its cushion, the Yamagami stared off into space, mulling something over.

“Oh, whoops!” Minato cried. He’d carved a leaf out of pure habit.

The ho’o looked up from the still chisel.

“Ho’o says that this contains the most consistent amount of elimination power.”

“It’s probably because I’ve carved this design so much.” Minato chuckled. “Our onsen hotel is called the ‘Kusunoki Inn.’”

“That seems like the obvious choice.”

“Simple is best. It’s easy for our customers to remember. And our logo is this camphor leaf.”

It was a simplified image of a leaf.

The design was shaped like an egg with a point at the end and had three lines running through it like the veins of a camphor leaf. This logo adorned all the items, linens, amenities, and brochures of the Kusunoki Inn.

“There’s a lot of camphor trees near my parents’ house. I created this design when I was a kid based off their leaves. That’s why I knew the divine tree was a camphor the second I saw it.”

Minato looked toward the center of the garden, when the camphor tree’s three leaves stood up tall. It was growing slowly, but it was full of life.

“I should probably water it soon.”

The camphor tree needed watering three times a day. At some point, the sky had cleared, and the sun had started to head toward the horizon, meaning it was almost time for the evening watering.

“Ho’o says that if you can carve designs, you could probably carve an object.”

Minato turned to the table, where the ho’o swelled with expectation.

He picked up a new piece of wood and examined both sides.

“I don’t know… It seems pretty different from carving letters and simple designs. I did a little wood carving in art class at school once, though…”

Was the doorplate craftsman going to set his sights on becoming a master wood-carver?

“You know, why not? I have this great camphor wood right here, so I might as well give it a go.”

The ho’o puffed out its chest.

“Ho’o says you should start by trying to carve it.”

“Oh, sure.”

Its unique comb would be difficult, but overall, the ho’o was just a tiny, round bird. It shouldn’t be overly complicated.

“Can I do it tomorrow? It’s going to get dark soon.”

His workspace had already grown dim. The ho’o nodded, looking slightly disappointed.

Minato stood up, holding the squares of wood he intended to put away in one hand. The fragrance of the camphor tree hung thick in the air around the table, and each time he moved, it got stronger.

“It’d be pretty amazing if we made a shrine out of this camphor wood, don’t you think?”

“It would certainly make for a luxurious abode.”

The Yamagami narrowed its eyes and smiled secretively.

Chapter 8: The Amulet’s Adventure

The kirin crept timidly toward Minato as he sat on the edge of the veranda.

It was acting uncharacteristically meek because it felt guilty about the unwelcome gift it had brought back with it the other day.

“I made this for you, Kirin. Would you like to try it on?”

On the end of the string in Minato’s hand dangled a piece of wood. As the wooden tag spun, it showed a design with two triangles overlapping each other engraved in both faces.

A six-pointed star—an auspicious symbol with a long-standing reputation for warding off evil.

And because Minato had carved it, the tag actually did have an incredibly strong ability to dispel malicious spirits.

Naturally, the string was no normal object, either.

Minato had woven it himself from the same hemp used to make the camphor tree’s shimenawa rope. The Yamagami had also patted it to strengthen the evil-warding power it contained, giving the rope a golden light.

“Carving just a line into the wood seemed too plain, so I made a hexagram.”

The kirin kept well out of touching distance, even if Minato were to reach out and try. It was motionless, eyes fixed on the wooden tag.

It probably didn’t like it because it resembled a collar.

That’s what Minato had assumed, but the wooden tag began to move toward the kirin. The hemp string left Minato’s hand and floated in midair, then widened into a circle. It passed over the kirin’s head and settled around its neck.

The golden hemp string and light-brown wooden tag blended in with the kirin’s bright-yellow body.

“It hardly seems like you’re wearing anything,” Minato said with relief.

Collapsed on the cushion as always, the Yamagami saw the scene differently.

The string shone like a necklace of pure gold. Attached to it was a green light so intense that even the Yamagami and the Four Spirits could barely look directly at it.

That wooden tag—now transformed into a protective charm—didn’t blend in with the kirin’s body. Rather, its overwhelming brightness completely covered it.

With the amulet hanging from its neck, the kirin raised its chin as if asking how it looked.

Minato tilted his head this way and that, examining it intensely.

“The size of the wood and the length of the string are both perfect.”

The kirin straightened itself and stared up at Minato.

“Truly, thank you so much. How will I ever repay you…? You have saved me now not once or twice, but three times, and you have given me this invaluable charm…”

It bowed respectfully, and then its eyes filled with determination.

“Now I can travel anywhere in the world without worry.”

Observing the situation from where they sat on the big rock, Reiki and Oryu exchanged a glance.

“It never learns.”

“…I must admit, I’m relieved to see Kirin acting like its usual self again…”

The other day, an argument between Oryu and the kirin had devolved into fighting, after which the kirin had sat brooding in a corner of the garden.

It seemed Oryu had actually been worried about its long-time friend and rival.

Minato didn’t understand what the kirin said, but he could tell that it was fully prepared to head back out into the world. He chuckled happily, thinking the kami never changed.

Just then, something climbed up the wall on the mountainside and into the garden.

It was a Japanese squirrel. A common sight in this area, wild squirrels would occasionally gift Minato nuts from the trees around the Kusunoki residence.

It dashed across the ground and stopped right next to the kirin. The squirrel stood on its hind legs, those tiny, adorable eyes gazing at its leader with a hint of exasperation.

The squirrel held a mulberry in its mouth, the small drupelets forming a single berry. The deep, dark-red color meant it was ready to eat.

It offered the fruit to Minato by the stem.

“Thank you. So you brought fruit today?”

The squirrel would usually leave after handing over its gift. But today, it seemed eager to say something and cast a glance at the veranda.

A pile of camphor wood blocks rested on the table.

Minato had just been practicing carving.

The ho’o was nowhere to be seen. Unable to fight off its sleepiness, it had gone back to the stone lantern and fallen asleep.

“He would like one of the wooden tags that you carved,” the Yamagami informed Minato, sitting in the center of the veranda like a sphinx.

“Of course. You always bring me things.”

“He says that one of the mistakes is fine. How very humble.”

For some reason, the kirin looked proud.

“Hang on just a moment,” Minato replied.

He went to the table to find something the right size for a squirrel, but everything was too big.

The Yamagami tapped the floor. There sat the wooden tag with the camphor leaf that Minato had carved automatically the day before. The simple, modest rectangle bore the single leaf mark.

While it was the logo of the Kusunoki Inn, the design was still just a leaf. It wasn’t unique. If the squirrel left it somewhere and someone found it, no one would realize that Minato had carved it.

Slightly smaller than the kirin’s tag, it should have been easy enough for a squirrel to carry around.

Minato knelt down and handed the piece of wood to the squirrel.

The squirrel accepted it, then glanced over at the kirin.

“Don’t cause too much trouble for him, boss.”

“I know, you don’t need to tell me that. Look, you got what you wanted. Be careful out there,” the prickly kirin said, looking off to the side.

With a brief sigh, the squirrel picked up the wooden tag and scampered away. It climbed the wall by the rice fields and slipped easily over the edge, disappearing like a gust of wind.

After watching it run off, Minato stood up.

“Squirrels are actually surprisingly strong and tough.”

They may have looked cute, but they were incredibly brave creatures.

The squirrel dashed over the raised paths between the rice fields.

Unaffected by the uneven ground, it kicked up dust as it darted past crabs and baby turtles on the edge of the path. A heron stepping through the middle of a field watched it dash away through squinted eyes.

The brilliant jade light emanating from the squirrel’s mouth was enough to make anyone squint, and its path was traced by a deep-green glow.

Just before the squirrel reached the road, a dark cloud fell over it—the shadow of a crow flying overhead.

The crow spread its wings and launched into a sudden dive.

The squirrel stopped at the edge of the road.

The next moment, it tossed the wooden tag to the crow.

The tag arced through the air before the crow grabbed it with its claws.

“Caw!”

Its scratchy voice seemed to complain about the force behind the throw.

Regardless, it flapped loudly, rising high into the air and soaring far off into the distance above rows of houses.

The squirrel stood upright, watching the crow fade into the horizon. Once the bird was nothing more than a small black dot over the mountain, it lowered its front legs to the ground.

The crow—a carrion crow—flew through the wide sky holding the wooden tag firmly between its claws.

Far below, the landscape was a multihued quilt of houses and rice fields. A starling resting on a sagging electric wire slowly moved its head as it watched the black crow flying straight along the country road.

As the crow flew, the number of buildings gradually increased.

A black mist also appeared.

It spread over the area in front of the crow, almost covering an entire neighborhood.

A miasma.

The crow gained altitude.

From its vantage point high in the air, it saw a house spurting black miasma like a geyser—the origin of the mist.

The crow circled directly above the epicenter, then let the wooden tag fall. It folded its wings and dived straight down, chasing the wooden tag, eventually catching it in its narrow beak. It went into a barrel roll, descending into the thickest part of the mist.

Encased in a jade membrane, the crow cleaved into the murky miasma, dispersing it. As it approached the roof of the house, the evil spirit nesting inside disappeared in an instant.

The crow made a U-turn back to the sky. As it did, the house emitted a shock wave that almost seemed to pursue the crow, making it soar even faster.

Another crow—a long-billed crow this time—flew in from a different direction.

It swooped in a wide arc, looking behind it as the jade light disappeared into the distance. The crow observed the abandoned house.

There was no longer any unpleasant, upsetting miasma around it, and no evil spirit spreading it around.

It was all gone. Everything had been purified.

“Caw, caw!”

The crow’s piercing cry echoed throughout the vacant neighborhood. The noise emitted from its long bill made it sound as if the bird was cackling, and its laughter hung in the air.

A little after the two crows had flown far away, a wind filled with divine power blew over the houses.

The purifying gust blew in after the evil spirits had been dispersed, like an offering from the gods above.

In a broken window on the second floor of the abandoned house, a curtain half off its railing swayed gently in the breeze.

Flapping freely, one crow sliced through the wind.

The wooden tag—its jade-green glow only very slightly faded—had been given to the long-billed crow. Holding the charm in its beak, it flew away from the house.

Down on the ground, a weasel sprang up and ran down a side road.

The crow opened its beak, dropping the wooden tag. The weasel watched it fall, then leaped up, caught it in its mouth, and kept running without breaking stride.

The wooden tag had passed from the two crows into the care of the weasel.

Another being had watched this entire sequence of events unfold from high above:

A black fox.

Its thick fur concealed a furoshiki cloth bundle on its back, the dark-green fabric covered in a karakusa pattern of white intertwining vines.

It looked like a stereotypical Japanese cat burglar.

This fox—Tsumugi, servant to a kami—was in the middle of an errand, as usual.

“…The animals seem really busy,” she muttered to herself, turning around.

With an elegant swish of her bushy tail, she scurried off to the small rectangular mountain in the distance—her home.

The weasel bearing the wooden tag headed in the direction of a high tower by the sea.

The black mist thickened the closer it got. But the weasel didn’t hesitate to keep pressing forward, squinting its eyes against the darkness. It went down a side street, passed through a drainage ditch, and ended up in a vacant lot.

The weasel’s long, sleek body crawled easily across the ground, the jade light from its mouth instantly expelling the miasma as soon as it touched it.

Animals have keener senses than humans.

They also have a sixth sense.

This acute sense, which humanity is in the process of losing, allows animals to detect the presence of evil.

Usually, animals followed their instincts and ran away from impure places. They wouldn’t go anywhere near them without cause.

This land provided a comfortable place to live, so they wanted to do whatever they could to stay there. However, at some point, evil spirits had gathered here, consumed each other, grown stronger, and taken up residence.

Animals can’t fight off evil beings on their own. They have no means of resistance. Thoroughly outmatched, they would be possessed, grow weak, and eventually die.

The only choice they’d had was to run away with their tails between their legs.

That is, until they learned about a power they could use to fight back.

Yes—the items made by Minato Kusunoki.

The animals realized that with those, they could retake their homes.

Wild animals share a unique information network. They might not all get along, but they will cooperate when something threatens their livelihood.

A variety of species had banded together to relay the wooden tag they received from Minato, so they could take back their homes stolen by evil spirits.

After the weasel, it passed to a pigeon, then a cat, a sparrow, and a rat, before finally being given to another crow. One after the next, the wooden tag made its way to areas infested with evil spirits, losing a little of its glow each time.

As the crow flew, the wooden tag in its claws held only the faintest trace of the camphor tree’s evil-dispelling power.

It was evening. The sun had almost dipped below the calm surface of the sea, and a group of crows circled in a crimson sky.

“Caw! Caw!” The ongoing chorus sent anxious chills down the spines of the people hurrying home.

One by one, the crows turned and began to fly away from the sea, heading toward a tall mountain far off in the distance.

The crow flying at the edge of the flock almost bumped into a spoon-billed sandpiper.

As it flapped wildly, it dropped the wooden tag in its talons.

The tag fell to the ground, rolling across the road with a hollow sound.

It was picked up by a bony hand.

That person stood by the side of the road, staring at the wooden tag in their palm.

Their long bangs cast a shadow all the way over their eyes, partially obscuring their face.

It was a slim man in his twenties. He wore a dark-gray suit over a slightly parted shirt, beneath which a golden chain could be glimpsed. It glittered glaringly in the light of the setting sun.

The man lifted the wooden tag to where it almost touched his nose and sniffed it.

He lowered his hand, and the corners of his mouth rose.

The joy in that smile made him look like a beast who’d just found their prey.

The murder of crows continued flying toward the tall mountain, already the size of beans in the sky.

The man set off in the same direction, a wooden tag dangling from a chain at his hip.

The key chain read Kusunoki Inn—Venus, along with the camphor leaf logo.

Vroooom…

The bus Minato had just gotten off passed by him as he walked. It kept going straight, emitting black smoke from its tailpipe. There were no buildings around here to block his view, and the wind carried the scent of fresh vegetation as it swept the black smog away.

Minato leisurely strolled home, looking up at the cloudless sky above him. He carried a plastic bag in one hand.

It held warm amazake manju.

He’d bought them from Echigoya, as usual. It had been some time since he’d seen the twelfth master, but he looked very healthy and had even added an extra manju to the bag.

Minato was sure the Yamagami would be pleased.

Swinging the plastic bag as he thought about the day, he passed in front of the convenience store.

“…I don’t have to stop by today.”

There were plenty of drinks at home, so he didn’t need to buy anything.

Minato glanced at the convenience store, and when he looked back down the road, two cats dashed nimbly out from a side street—strays with scarred faces. They blocked his path.

He had come to know these two strays because, whenever he saw them, they would present him with food as thanks for taking care of their leader, the kirin.

Each time, they would offer Minato scavenged food and enthusiastically tell him to eat up, and each time he’d reply that just the thought was enough. This regrettable back-and-forth repeated itself without them ever actually saying anything to one another.

Minato stopped and readied himself, wondering if they had scraps today, too.

The two strays walked confidently toward him, and he was relieved to see that they weren’t carrying anything in their mouths. But their hard glares made him uneasy as they surrounded him like a pair of young delinquents.

Once they were at his feet, however, the cats mewed and nuzzled his legs.

He was shocked. They typically avoided humans and had always warily maintained a certain distance from him. A child had once run toward them, only to be greeted by threatening shrieks and bristling fur that caused them to flee in fear.

Yet now, the two cats mewed awkwardly.

“Mew, mew…”

They clumsily rubbed their bodies against his shins, obviously not accustomed to being friendly with someone.

“Meowww…?”

There was something incredibly sad about their confused-sounding cries.

Minato felt bad for the two cats, who were looking up at him as if checking that they were doing this right. They must have realized that Minato didn’t care for scraps.

“…You don’t have to try so hard, you know.”

It was all he could say.

Should I ask Kirin to talk to them?

Minato toyed with the idea as he cut down a side street and passed a large tree on the side of the road. The throng of sparrows perched on its limbs chirped in unison.

“Whoa.”

The deafening chorus hurt his eardrums.

Minato had stopped without thinking, and looking up at the tree, he saw that the branches were sagging with the sheer number of sparrows.

“There’s so many of them…”

Sparrows often came to visit the Kusunoki residence, so they weren’t a rare sight. But Minato had never seen a group of sparrows large enough to be mistaken for the leaves on a tree. At least, not without the ho’o involved.

As he looked around, he saw it wasn’t only this tree, either—an equal number of sparrows decorated each of the evenly spaced trees lining the road. He didn’t know why, but they were all chirping. They sounded cheerful.

For some reason, today he was getting to bask in sparrow song as he walked down the street.

A hokora shrine sat at the entrance to the little road that cut through the rice fields leading to the Kusunoki residence.

The stone structure housed a Jizo statue wearing a serene smile.

Its bib was consistently a vivid shade of red, and it was always accompanied by an offering of fresh flowers. The flowers changed daily, so someone obviously took care of the shrine.

Whenever Minato walked past it, he wondered who it was looking after it.

He’d never seen anyone there.

Today, for the first time, he did.

An elderly woman was arranging a yellow bouquet in a glass vase.

She had a small, bent frame, and a cane was leaning against the shrine. She must have had difficulty walking.

After a while, the old lady nodded with satisfaction. She put both hands together and prayed to the Jizo statue, then looked up and peered far off into the distance.

Her gaze ended at the towering mountain.

The green ridgeline contrasted against the clear blue sky. The unchanging mountain stood proud.

Facing the peak, the elderly woman prayed again.

This prayer took considerably longer than the previous one.

She stood up tall, sending her wishes out into the world.

Even just that simple action felt incredibly noble to Minato.

Once she was finished praying, the elderly woman picked up her cane. It was only then that she finally noticed Minato standing a few steps away.

Her deeply wrinkled face creased in a warm smile.

“Is that an offering for Lord Jizo?”

She was looking at the object in Minato’s hand—the plastic bag.

“Oh, uh, no. This…is for someone else.”

Covering the amazake manju with one hand as if to shield it, Minato looked toward the mountain.

Minato had trouble making up lies on the spot.

He couldn’t give evasive answers, especially to older people. Part of this was likely because his late grandfather never let him get away with any sort of lie or mistruth.

Having answered honestly on reflex, Minato panicked. He worried that the old lady would find him strange.

But she didn’t.

Her eyes widened slightly, and she smiled. “I hope the Great Kami will be pleased with them.”

She spoke like she knew the Yamagami.

Did she know the Yamagami?

Minato was about to ask, when—

“Mother, you’re out here by yourself again?”

—he suddenly heard the voice of a middle-aged woman behind him.

Turning around, he saw a woman slowly driving toward the shrine in a minivan. The face peering through the window looked exasperated.

“Mother, let’s go home. Come on, hop in.”

The car came to a stop, and the sliding door opened.

“I know, I know,” the old woman said offhandedly as she got in the van. The driver caught Minato’s eye and nodded.

The car set off. It drove for a while, then turned down a path between some rice fields and away from the Kusunoki residence. Minato could see a small group of houses in that direction.

It would be an easy walk to the shrine from there for Minato, but quite the trek for an elderly woman who had difficulty walking.

“It sounded like she knows the Yamagami…”

If she was one of the people who had actually seen the Yamagami, then Minato wanted to ask her about it. Unfortunately, though, he hadn’t had the chance.

He caught a glimpse of the Jizo statue as he started walking toward home.

This was where Minato had been dragged against his will before the kirin stopped it with a strange scream. There must have been an entrance to a kami realm, but it hadn’t happened since.

He studied the area but didn’t see any distortions.

Imitating the elderly woman, Minato pressed his hands together in prayer.

“I’m sorry I can’t offer you this amazake manju.”

He suddenly noticed that the Jizo’s hat had been changed to a red bandanna.

It’d had a change of clothes for the new season. Minato felt like it made the Jizo’s smile even more serene—but that was nothing more than a delusion created by human sentimentality.

From there, Minato strolled down the path between the rice fields, where he was approached by a large bird walking at the edge of a rice paddy.

“That’s…a gray heron.”

It was a rare type of bird that didn’t live in this area. It must have come from quite far away.

The bird had a long neck and gray feathers that seemed almost bluish, and it advanced slowly, deftly moving its slender legs. It reached the edge of the road and gazed at him.

“You came to see Bird, right?”

The way the heron titled its head didn’t clearly convey whether it had understood him. Minato wasn’t sure, but it followed him when he started walking.

“I hope Bird is awake.”

“Hraaawk!”

That harsh cry was a stark contrast to the heron’s elegant appearance. Anyone hearing that in the middle of the night would surely find their hair standing on end.

The unrealistic expectation that something beautiful must also have an enchanting voice was just another sad aspect of humans.

Minato was no exception himself; his shoulders tensed up automatically. All he could do was give a hollow chuckle.

When he got back, Minato walked straight past the front door of the house and went into the garden, as usual.

However, the moment he came around the house, he stopped in his tracks.

His eyes had been immediately drawn to the massive wolf that lay curled up asleep in the center of the veranda. It completely covered the extra-large cushion specially made to fit its giant body.

“It’s back to normal…”

The Yamagami didn’t move or open its eyes, but Minato could tell it was sleeping peacefully by the gentle rise and fall of its body.

It hadn’t shown any signs of turning back.

Minato wondered what had triggered it.

Could it have been the elderly woman praying to the mountain?

As he thought it over, Minato crept noiselessly toward the veranda.

The gray heron stood on the fence, watching silently.

Chapter 9: The Kami’s Gauntlet

Once again, the pleasant sound of the waterfall filled the garden of the gods.

Water crashed down into the basin, where Oryu had curled itself into a ball. It had come to favor that spot since the renovation and was now sleeping peacefully.

Reiki dozed next to the pool, resting atop the large mist-covered rock. The kirin hunched low on the arched bridge, looking tired and yawning repeatedly.

The flame housings on both stone lanterns stayed shut tight, the ho’o and the spirit asleep within.

Everyone was passing the time in their own way.

In the center of the garden, the young leaves of the camphor tree swayed in the wind. The sapling faced the Yamagami, the leader of the garden of the gods, lying lazily in the center of the veranda in the spot it had claimed.

The wolf had returned to its full size, asserting its presence to all.

Minato and the martens sat around a table next to the dozing Yamagami.

All three of its kin had come for lunch and were now enjoying a relaxing chat.

Minato set a box of cakes on the table.

“I got cheesecake for dessert today.”

A line of three small noses twitched toward the box. The food-obsessed martens had already noticed the smell of cheese.

“It has a different stink from other cheeses,” Utsugi said, leaning over the box. His nose was almost touching it, and Torika pulled him back by the shoulders.

“You’re too close. And you shouldn’t call it a stink, but a scent.”

“She’s right,” Seri chided, sitting rigidly next to Torika. “Even delicious foods can seem disgusting depending on how you describe them.”

Minato chuckled and opened the box, immediately releasing a rich, cheesy aroma.

The martens all gulped loudly.

“They didn’t have three of the same kind, so I got different ones,” Minato said, removing the cakes from the box.

He set out four different kinds of cheesecake in front of them: soufflé cheesecake, Basque cheesecake, New York cheesecake, and no-bake cheesecake. Although they all had the same triangular shape, it was a rich variety of choices.

Each slice rested on its own pure-white plate.

“I figured it’s nice, us all having our own different thing sometimes…”

When the martens had first been created, they’d gotten into fights when Minato gave them each something different. Ever since then, he’d made sure to give them all the same thing.

But the kin had matured so much that he could hardly believe it had ever been an issue. He was sure it would be fine now.

Still a little worried, Minato glanced over at the kin. They were all staring at a different cake.

Utsugi and Torika simultaneously looked over at Seri.

“I will have the fluffy one.”

There was no hesitation in his voice. Seri had chosen the spongy soufflé cheesecake. The surface of the cake was creased with wrinkles, proving just how soft it was.

Utsugi nudged Torika’s arm to hurry her.

“I would like the cake with the nice baked color.”

She spoke carefully, enunciating each word. Torika gazed at the Basque cheesecake that had been baked until the top was dark brown—almost black. Its bold, burnt appearance made it stand out.

“I want the white one!”

Utsugi’s impatience was clear from his tone as he pointed to the no-bake cheesecake. Of the four, this was the only one that wasn’t cooked at all. It was whiter than just-fallen snow and looked refreshing.

The three martens had unflinchingly demonstrated that the eldest chose first. And, most striking of all, the young, unreserved Utsugi had done it as if it were only natural.

Minato placed each cheesecake in front of the respective marten. He gave Seri and Torika forks; Utsugi didn’t need one, as he always ate with his hands. Seri and Torika were unique in that they imitated humans, while Utsugi acted like a normal animal.

Minato pulled the final plate over to himself.

“Then I’ll have the New York cheesecake.”

He spoke in his normal tone of voice, but as soon as the martens heard him say that, their enamored faces suddenly stiffened.

“It might be a little late to ask this, Minato, but do you mind that we chose before you? Would you prefer this fluffy one that I chose?” said Seri.

“Minato, is that really the one you want? Maybe you would have preferred this burnt one?” asked Torika.

“If you want my white one, I can trade you,” offered Utsugi.

All three of them were so considerate.

I can’t believe it. They’ve grown up so much…!

The martens’ unexpected growth had Minato in tears.

They hadn’t needed to bother, though; he typically ate anything without complaint.

“I’m fine with whichever, so don’t worry about me. There wasn’t one that I particularly wanted.”

“You really are selfless, aren’t you?” Seri said, and the other two martens nodded in agreement.

Minato could only smile bashfully.

So many people he knew had said the same thing.

On the contrary, Minato never understood people who just had to have a certain thing. His tastebuds worked fine, but he earnestly felt that any differences weren’t enough to fret over.

Putting it bluntly, it was all the same once it reached his stomach.

“They’re each good in their own way. Even if you eat the same thing over and over, you experience it differently depending on your physical condition or emotional state. I think that’s pretty interesting.”

“Is that so…?”

The idea confused Torika because she didn’t understand how a person’s physical condition could change.

“Anyway, let’s eat.”

“Yeah!” Utsugi eagerly cried out, his eyes fixed on the cheesecake.

The three martens graciously expressed their thanks and dug in at the same time. You could practically see sparks shoot out of their eyes.

Behind its happy kin, the Yamagami yawned continuously. It had seemed incredibly sleepy after its meal, and its eyes were almost closed. It also didn’t really like cheese, so it paid no attention to the martens buried under a fountain of illusory sparks.

The wolf suddenly closed its lolling mouth. It opened its eyes wide and made a large swoop of its giant tail.

The three martens each took a deep breath, the sparks fading as they stopped chewing.

Silence came over the veranda, with only Minato eating as usual.

He could tell from the Yamagami family’s reaction that a visitor was on their way, and he casually popped the piece of cheesecake on his fork into his mouth.

There was no need to rush.

The Yamagami family usually reacted far too early. In Minato’s experience, it would take at least another five minutes for the visitor to reach the front gate. That provided ample time to finish his piece of cake.

Minato was a fast eater anyway; he’d already consumed more than half his cake.

Seri and Torika looked conflicted. Their cakes were still mostly untouched.

The two older martens savored their food just like the Yamagami, so it usually took them a fair amount of time to finish eating.

“Take your time,” Minato said, finishing his last bite of cheesecake. “It’s Saiga, right?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“…We’ll get in the way…”

Seri and Torika exchanged a glance.

“You need not worry. Eat as you normally would. We have no idea how long it will take him to arrive.”

Minato blinked at the Yamagami’s unsettling comment. “Is he not feeling well?”

“Nay, he is fine. It would take a lot for such a strong man to fall ill.”

Seri and Torika happily scooped up pieces of cake onto their forks. Utsugi settled from his half-crouched position, his cheeks bulging with food. He still had a bad habit of shoving everything into his mouth in one go.

Utsugi took his time chewing, though, like a cow. He smiled, knowing that he could savor his cake a little longer.

The doorbell rang, letting them know that Saiga had arrived, and Minato answered on the kitchen intercom.

“Hi, Saiga. Come on into the garden.”

“Thank you.”

On the screen, a stern-faced man in a black suit stood holding a paper bag. Saiga had a habit of staying in that spot for a while as he readied himself to walk into the jaws of death—not that Minato had any way of knowing that.

The small display didn’t show the incredible resolve hidden in his eyes.

Saiga’s last visit had been before Minato saw him surrounded by a group of women who looked like relatives.

His face now looked much healthier than it had back then. The busy season must be over.

He really did resemble his father, who Minato had encountered so dramatically the other day. Saiga didn’t act any differently, so maybe his father hadn’t said anything about meeting Minato.

He decided not to mention it.

On the veranda, the martens watched Minato switch off the intercom. Beside them, the Yamagami raised its head off its crossed front paws.

The front gate slid open.

—Bwoooo!

A trumpet sounded from somewhere—signaling the start of the duel.

Saiga took the first blow.

Divine power rushed over him the moment he crossed the property line.

It felt like someone had piled weights on his head, shoulders, back, and legs. Even so, he didn’t waver and successfully made it into the yard. The pressure bore down on him without a moment of hesitation, as a welcome of sorts to the Kusunoki residence.

But Saiga’s expression didn’t change.

Turning with excruciating slowness, he closed the gate with both hands. The action carried no trace of carelessness or forcefulness. He acted calmly, meticulously. As if taking extra care to act unaffected.

The Yamagami snorted from its spot on the cushion.

“Oh-ho… Few people can maintain appearances under such an unbearable weight.”

“Very true,” agreed Seri. “It is an admirable display.”

“And the pressure’s even heavier than before!” added Utsugi. “That’s pretty amazing.”

The three of them all looked on, impressed.

“Honestly, do you never get tired of this?” Torika muttered to herself as she stabbed her fork into her final bite of cake.

Minato was busy preparing tea in the kitchen.

Step by step, Saiga carefully made his way forward.

He walked over the stepping stones along the side of the house. At times, he stumbled slightly, but that was unavoidable. This far away from the garden—about halfway there from the front gate—he was supporting close to three times his body weight.

“Just how much can you endure?” said the Yamagami, who was playing with him a little.

The amount of divine pressure bearing down on Saiga increased even further.

His arms and legs felt heavy, like he was trying to swim through mud. As he trudged toward the garden as slowly as a cow, Saiga’s brain worked feverishly.

Had he done something to offend the kami somehow?

No—was it because he’d failed to acquire the wagashi on the talisman and had hurriedly picked up something else instead?

He still had some distance until he reached the veranda and the source of the overwhelming divine power. Maybe it had already registered the contents of his gift, and this weight was how it conveyed its disapproval.

Saiga didn’t know what the kami wanted. So he couldn’t do anything about it.

None of Saiga’s internal panic showed on the surface, however. He was too proud.

Saiga Harima was the type of person who would rather commit hara-kiri than be beholden to his emotions and show fear in front of other people.

The martens finished their cheesecake, having enjoyed it to the fullest.

A happy trio lined up in front of Minato on the veranda.

Standing on his hind legs, Seri looked up at Minato.

“Thank you for the wonderful cake. We shall be on our way now.”

“It was sooo good!” Utsugi said. “The wild fern shoots are in season now, so I’ll bring you some from our mountain tomorrow as thanks. Unless you want to come harvest them with us?”

“You know, I think I will.”

“I’ll come by to get you in the morning.”

“Thanks,” Minato said to the waving Utsugi, and the three martens dashed off toward the rear gate.

As Minato saw the martens off, the Yamagami behind him narrowed its eyes.

“…Hmm, once again, he endures it well.”

Minato looked back to see the massive wolf chuckling maliciously.

He had wondered why Saiga was taking such an abnormally long time to get to the veranda, but it seemed the Yamagami was testing him.

The Yamagami hadn’t paid Saiga the least bit of attention at first, but it had recently started interacting with him.

“Yamagami, you like dedicated people, don’t you?”

“Not necessarily,” the wolf said, averting its gaze. But its tail wagged happily.

All of a sudden, the Yamagami’s tail went still, and it wrinkled its nose.

“Hmph, he stumbled. Under only this much pressure, too… Such a shame. He must work harder.”

“That seems a little harsh. You’re getting stricter…”

Yet Saiga never wavered in his respect for the Yamagami, so he would receive something for his efforts.

The Yamagami may have been capricious, but it only concerned itself with those who were sincere at heart.

An exhausted Saiga finally reached the veranda.

The man in the disheveled suit that appeared before Minato looked radically different from the man he’d seen on the small intercom screen.

He stumbled over to the table and went straight for the tea—the first time Minato had ever seen him do that. It must have been quite the test.

Studying Saiga now that he had finally caught his breath, Minato couldn’t help but feel sorry for the man. He cast a reproachful gaze beside him at the Yamagami.

But it had no effect.

Still pressed against the floor, the Yamagami extended its neck as far as possible to smell the paper bag at Saiga’s side. Minato fully knew that chastising it would be pointless.

So he let it go. For now.

Business came first.

Minato placed two stacks of talismans on the table.

The business card-sized washi paper contained grid patterns and the names of wagashi. Saiga squinted incredulously at one talisman that read chimaki.

That happened to be the exact gift he had brought with him today.

The long, cylindrical wagashi consisted of sticky white dango wrapped in bamboo leaves. It could be described as just sweet, simple dango. But it was this fragrance of the bamboo leaves that made it a delicious seasonal delicacy.

Nothing attested to the sublime taste of this chimaki more than the Yamagami’s unwavering gaze.

Incredibly, the store name printed on the paper bag matched that written on the back of the talisman.

Just the other day, the Yamagami had been poring over the local magazine, whimpering over the chimaki from that very store.

“Oh, chimaki, I have missed you so…! How I have waited for this day!”

The pool of drool underneath the Yamagami was gradually spreading.

They needed to hurry. It would soon reach the paper bag.

Minato was panicking internally, and for some reason, Saiga looked unusually hesitant.

“Saiga, is something wrong?”

“…No, it’s nothing.”

He seemed a little uneasy. He probably didn’t like other people being able to guess his emotions.

Minato had been selling Saiga talismans for close to a year, so he knew how the man worked and could read him easily. He didn’t let any of this show on his face, though.

With all his years in the service industry, Minato could quickly gauge someone’s intentions and change his demeanor accordingly. If they looked reluctant or uneasy, he wouldn’t press the issue.

Saiga picked up the talismans and checked each one.

“Your powers have gotten stronger again.”

He seemed eager to change the subject.

“Do you think so?” Minato responded vaguely.

Secretly, however, he swelled with pride.

He couldn’t see the effect of his talismans, and the Yamagami didn’t always provide a detailed explanation, so it felt nice to have someone appreciate his hard work.

Saiga studied the grid pattern on one talisman. He took more time with this one than with the others.

“The elimination power is almost wholly concealed inside.”

“Yes, for that one.”

That talisman was his finest work.

Minato produced another stack of talismans.

“These are the mistakes.”

Saiga’s serious eyes scrutinized Minato’s hands through his glasses.

“I see, more power is seeping out of the ones on the bottom.”

“You can tell that without examining them closely?”

Minato also looked down at the bundles, but he couldn’t see anything, no matter how hard he tried.

“—You can still use these, though, can’t you?” he asked Saiga.

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll add them in for free.”

He casually passed them over. The stack rose twice as tall as the other two bundles.

Saiga’s face tightened, and he waved them away. “No, I can’t accept them for free. Let me pay for them.”

“It’s fine. Besides, they’re mistakes.”

“I insist. They’re precious; I couldn’t accept them without giving you anything.”

“No, please, take them. You always bring so many sweets.”

It was one way for Minato to make up for the Yamagami’s mischief. He had to get Saiga to accept them.

The two men argued back and forth, Minato offering the talismans and Saiga politely refusing—the opposite role Minato had played the other day. But the stubborn Saiga refused to budge.

The Yamagami narrowed its eyes and stopped drooling.

“Hurry up and take them.”

The kami had decided.

An impatient echo shook the air.

In the middle of this back-and-forth with the talismans, Saiga froze, shock painting his face. He had heard the Yamagami’s voice for the first time. And from so close by.

It undoubtedly would’ve been bad for his heart. Minato extended his deepest sympathies to the man.

“Hurry up” hadn’t been the best choice of words, though.

The Yamagami’s impatient tone expressed its earnest desire that Saiga accept the talismans and leave. It paid too much heed to its desires.

But the dignity in that voice informed anyone listening that it was the voice of a kami.

That didn’t change the fact that Saiga was currently frozen with shock.

Minato moved swiftly. He sandwiched the failed talismans between the two other bundles to form a single stack, then set it down in front of Saiga.

He sat up straight and put on his best customer service smile. “The mistakes are included as a personal gift from me, so please enjoy them. I look forward to your continued patronage.”

It was the will of a kami, so Saiga couldn’t refuse.

He sat up straighter. “Thank you. I graciously accept.”

Saiga gave a bow that was as crisp as if he was demonstrating an example, and he obediently accepted the talismans.

In exchange, Saiga handed Minato some pure-white washi paper.

“Are you still using the brush that I gave you?” Saiga asked.

“Yes, it works wonderfully.”

Minato washed it with divine water every time he used it, so it stayed as pristine as when he’d first been given it. But he couldn’t tell Saiga that.

Chapter 10: A New, Lost (?) Kami

As he did every day, Minato the caretaker diligently started his morning by tidying the garden. There weren’t any fallen leaves or garbage, but it still needed to be swept daily.

Swish, swish, swish. The sweep of the bamboo broom echoed throughout the garden.

Minato moved down the river, following the current.

Reaching the wide curve close to the Ryugu Gate, he found his gaze drawn to it and went still.

Beneath the rippling surface, nestled within a clump of seagrass, was the imposing presence of the gate. In the center of that light-green tile roof, the pearl stayed dark. He couldn’t see anything through the arch of the white gate.

Even so, Minato found himself leaning over the water to peer inside.

“What are you doing?”

“Whoa!”

Minato jumped at the Yamagami’s sudden question.

He looked up to see the giant wolf walking over from the rear gate. It had returned to its mountain the night before, but apparently it had returned.

“Welcome back, Yamagami.”

“Hmm. What are you doing?”

“I was just thinking how nothing’s come through Ryugu Gate recently.”

“Aye, no being has visited since that kami with the red snapper wandered through.”

“…Well, that’s good.”

The Yamagami stopped on the opposite riverbank and glanced briefly down at the Ryugu Gate, then turned away and yawned. It didn’t seem very interested.

Every so often, a being would wander in through the Ryugu Gate from somewhere.

Minato had learned this when he saw the kami Ebisu pass through the gate a while back.

The Yamagami had told him that only kami and kami-like beings could enter the Kusunoki residence through the Ryugu Gate.

However benevolent they were, though, they were still trespassing.

Minato didn’t think they would damage the garden, but as the caretaker, he needed to know about any potential guests.

The Yamagami had brushed Minato off when he’d asked it to tell him about any incoming beings, but apparently it had remembered.

As Minato observed the Yamagami, a rainbow of light twinkled in the corner of his vision.

Just before Minato turned toward the glimmer, the Yamagami opened its half-closed eyes.

“—No way…”

It was just as he’d thought. The jewel shone with an iridescent light, and the river surface began to swell.

Minato stood up and backed away.

He didn’t know what it might be, but it was better to be safe than sorry.

There was no guarantee that the kami would be peaceful.

The Yamagami didn’t go on the alert, though. It simply looked down at the sight, its slight grimace conveying its annoyance.

Seeing that reaction, Minato assumed that whatever was coming through the gate wasn’t that dangerous.

The last time, when Ebisu came through, Minato had been in the onsen.

Watching the event from a distance through a cloud of shock meant that Minato hadn’t seen how exactly Ebisu had appeared from the Ryugu Gate.

This was an excellent opportunity to witness it, but his current position unfortunately didn’t provide a view of the gate.

He would need to go over next to the Yamagami to see it. Should he hop across the river or go across the bridge?

As he was caught between the two options, a being emerged from the river.

It was a young man in human form.

His appearance and age didn’t seem all that different from Minato’s, and his figure was accentuated by dark, modern clothes.

At first glance, he seemed like a typical sort of person you would come across on the street.

He wasn’t a person, though—but a kami.

Wet black hair stuck to the young man’s face, but the moment he combed it back, it was dry. He strode over the rocks lining the river with his long legs, alighting on the grass.

There wasn’t a single drop of water on him.

The kami faced Minato. When their eyes met, he smirked, and rays of light shot out into the air behind him.

Yet his face, haloed by a bright light, made him look like a delinquent who loved causing mischief. And not playful pranks, either, but cruel tricks that enraged people.

Those thoughts briefly occupied Minato’s mind before something else caught his attention.

A huge snake was wrapped around the man’s waist.

It had a single body, but eight snake heads danced around the kami’s face. They surveyed the garden, each one looking in a different direction. Eight sets of eyes glimmered, and eight tails swayed rhythmically above the ground.

It must be an intensely curious creature. And while it looked ferocious, it was also surprisingly cute.

A brave, young god who feared nothing and a giant snake with eight heads and tails…

It was Susano’o, one of the Three Precious Children, and the legendary snake Yamata no Orochi.

Even someone as unschooled in Japanese mythology as Minato recognized such unique characters.

Susano’o scanned the entirety of the garden, then turned his attention to Minato.

“I have arrived.”

His actions and manner of speech weren’t those of someone who’d wandered in here accidentally.

“Oh, hello.”

So Minato only extended a simple greeting.

The kami continued. “I was wondering where that led to and thought I’d check it out, but who knew it came out in a place like this…? And you…”

Susano’o examined Minato from head to toe and sneered. Feeling uneasy, Minato took a half step back.

The man glanced quickly over toward the Yamagami, but it just let out several big yawns. It was too sleepy to care. Its actions showed no sign of tension or alertness.

The Yamagami didn’t act like it knew this other god, as it had when Fujin and Raijin showed up. And neither seemed all that interested in the other.

“Well, anyway, I didn’t mean to barge in uninvited. Take this as my way of apologizing.”

Susano’o casually waved a hand, and a large barrel of sake appeared at his feet.

Certain stories made Susano’o sound like a bit of a wild child, but surprisingly, he actually seemed to be quite well-mannered.

That said, who knew how he’d react if Minato refused? Minato had learned by now that it was best to accept gifts from kami with gratitude.

So he conveyed his sincere appreciation.

“Thank you very much.”

He had to admit that it was an impressive barrel of sake.

Reiki, Fujin, and Raijin were certainly going to enjoy this.

As Minato imagined their delight, Yamata no Orochi descended from Susano’o’s body. It leaped at the barrel, wrapping itself around it. The eight heads writhed around the container, red forked tongues flicking in and out.

It really wanted to start drinking.

If Minato remembered his mythology correctly, Yamata no Orochi’s body had been cut up after falling into a drunken sleep. Had it not learned anything from that experience?

As Minato stood there, feeling slightly frustrated—

“That sake isn’t for you!”

—an angry bellow echoed through the garden. It was so loud that Minato felt his eardrums vibrate, and he reflexively covered his ears.

Susano’o grabbed one of Yamata no Orochi’s tails and pulled. He yanked the snake away from the barrel so hard that Minato could practically hear a ripping sound.

The force tipped the barrel sideways, and Minato immediately released a gust of wind to right it. He could feel Reiki’s relief from the bottom of the river.

Without so much as glancing at it, Susano’o swung the massive snake around and tossed it into the clear blue sky.

Yamata no Orochi wasn’t hurt in the least. It flipped through the air, fanning its heads wide. Eight pairs of eyes glared furiously down at Susano’o from where it floated, and each head swayed intimidatingly, taunting Susano’o: “Come on, bring it! You wanna fight me? A brat like you?!” It was a real thug.

But Susano’o was easily spurred on, and his expression filled with rage.

He was no less fiery than Orochi.

“Huuuh?! Who’re you calling a brat?! Always calling me names…! I’ll kick your ass today as well!”

Make that two thugs.

“…They’re both so short-tempered,” Minato muttered to himself.

Even though they’d been alive for ages.

As Minato watched on with exasperation, Susano’o extended his arms forward and stood like he was accepting something with both hands.

A golden speck began to flicker in his grasp.

More and more joined it, eventually transforming into a bar of light. Susano’o gripped the edge in one hand and slashed it horizontally, dispersing the remaining golden flecks.

Leaving him holding a sword.

It had a slim, double-edged blade with an intricate design.

The tip was pointed at Yamata no Orochi, and sunlight reflected off the incredibly sharp-looking steel.

Minato had never seen a real sword before, and his jaw dropped in astonishment.

These days, you’d have to visit a museum to see such a rare thing.

What’s more, it was a divine sword.

He would have been thrilled to see it under other circumstances. He was a man, after all.

Yamata no Orochi danced in the air around Susano’o, writhing madly. Its eight heads opened their jaws wide, flicking forked tongues and hissing, taunting him.

It looked like they were just playing around, but it was hard to tell if they actually got along with each other. The snake had wrapped itself around Susano’o’s waist for the journey here, so they should at least be on decent terms. Yamata no Orochi hadn’t seemed to be squeezing Susano’o to death when they’d arrived.

“I’m gonna chop off every single one of your heads.”

Just as Minato was thinking that they might actually be friends, Susano’o made an incredibly violent threat.

He raised his sword, and Yamata no Orochi hissed, waving its tails like whips.

How had this happened? A fight had broken out. Minato held his head in his hands.

If they didn’t stop soon, the garden would be drenched in blood. As the caretaker, he couldn’t let that happen.

“Please don’t kill each other here!” he admonished them sternly.

Still swinging his sword around, Susano’o looked over his shoulder at Minato.

“Why not? If I cut him into pieces, then a sword will come out of his tail. It’s pretty cool. Wanna see it? You’re a man, so you’re into things like that, right?”

“No, thank you!”

Minato couldn’t believe that Susano’o looked confused by that.

He must be talking about the legendary sword Kusanagi no Tsurugi.

Honestly, Minato was curious.

But he would decline if it meant a bloodbath.

He considered whether his best course of action might be using his wind to blow them both far away from here. He might have to.

However, this man was a very powerful kami. He was the son of the god that had created Japan, after all.

As he pondered over this, a thought struck Minato: Susano’o was also the god of storms.

Right at that moment, Susano’o turned and swung his blade at Minato.

Some distance still separated them, so Minato wasn’t in striking range.

But the sword released a violent gust of wind—a storm by any definition of the word.

An audible whoosh accompanied the wind rushing toward Minato. The nearby plants almost toppled to the ground, but they immediately righted themselves under a wind from the opposite direction. One released by Minato.

The two gusts of wind canceled each other out, dissipating up into the sky.

Minato steeled himself, and Susano’o let out an impressed whistle. The violent aura surrounding him disappeared as he tapped his shoulder with the flat of the blade.

Susano’o laughed cheerfully.

“Damn. You’re pretty good with Fujin’s power.”

“…I still have a long way to go.”

A bitter feeling came over Minato. More than likely, Susano’o had been testing him.

That sneer earlier might have been because Susano’o had recognized Fujin’s power.

Minato couldn’t let his guard down.

Susano’o licked his lips, looking like a predator that was dreaming up ways of toying with its prey.

“That said, it’s only just okay. So I’ll help you train.”

“Please, you don’t—”

“Hmm, we can’t really do it here, can we? Why don’t we go to my realm?”

“Thank you, but—”

Susano’o abruptly cut all of Minato’s protestations short, the second time because he’d appeared directly in front of him. The blur of movement almost made it look like he’d teleported, and Minato had no time to resist as Susano’o grabbed his wrist.

Susano’o flew straight up into the air, dragging Minato along by one arm.

Everything happened too quickly for Minato to follow. But more than anything, his arm hurt from being pulled so hard.

“Ow, ow, ow!”

His wrist was bearing his full body weight. He could almost hear the disquieting noise of crushing bones.

“Tough it out just a little longer. We’re almost there.”

“We are?! You live that close by?!”

“Nah. I’m going to connect to it now. This little sky walk will be over in juuust a sec.”

Susano’o kept leaping off something in midair like footholds, which he used to ascend high into the sky. The kami’s voice and attitude made it sound like he was having a great time, and Minato looked up at him, dumbstruck.

There was no hope of fighting his way free. If Susano’o let go, Minato wouldn’t see the sun rise tomorrow. He was so scared that he couldn’t even bring himself to look down.

When they reached about as high as where the camphor tree had once grown to, Susano’o slashed his sword horizontally.

Space ripped open, and a distortion appeared.

It was the entrance to a kami realm.

Minato was used to seeing them by now, so it didn’t surprise him.

But the sheer size of it shocked him. It stretched as wide as the garden below.

The kami realm quickly sucked Susano’o and Minato into its center.

Below them, the Yamagami sighed, watching it all.

“That man…just does whatever he wishes…”

Beside the Yamagami, Yamata no Orochi also craned its head up toward the sky, tongues exposed in its eight mouths as it hissed.

“My apologies about the boy. He always challenges Fujin whenever they meet, but Fujin never takes him seriously and simply brushes him aside. So he just couldn’t help himself when he met someone who possessed Fujin’s power. He’s been craving a playmate for so long…”

It apologized profusely again.

The snake sounded like a parent burdened by a troublesome child. Strangely, only the head at the very edge spoke.

“…It is the way of things,” the Yamagami muttered, sounding slightly exhausted.

It glanced at Yamata no Orochi, and with that, they both leaped into the air.

Without taking the time to prepare, they reached the distortion together and went straight in, disappearing from sight.

A gentle breeze blew through the garden of the gods. The distortion in the sky above it had disappeared, and there was no trace of anyone.

The commotion of only a few minutes ago now seemed like a dream, and only the sound of the waterfall filled the garden. Plish. Splash. Reiki and Oryu poked their heads above the water’s surface and shared a glance.

Minato’s body had been pulled upward, yet now it was falling for some reason.

His internal organs bounced wildly up and down, and an ominous chill permeated him. He yelped as they landed on solid ground, Susano’o touching down before him.

Bent double, Minato was covered in a cold sweat.

His sneakers pressed against an unpaved road. It was bumpy and uneven, but he felt overwhelming relief to be standing on solid ground. His legs finally started shaking.

Susano’o released Minato’s wrist as the man trembled.

“Hey, we’re here.”

Prompted by the kami’s lively voice, Minato looked up, rubbing his wrist.

A relaxing mountain scene filled his vision.

It was vastly different from the land around the Kusunoki residence. Groups of houses covered the undulating ground, and terraced rice fields dotted distant hills. The sight in the other three directions was the same.

The stair-shaped rice paddies told him he was somewhere else, but it was the design of the houses that stood out most distinctly.

They had steep, thatched roofs.

Those charming buildings dotted the land with their pointed rooflines. This landscape, composed heavily of green and brown, represented one of Japan’s most traditional historic scenes.

Even though it was his first time seeing something like this, Minato felt a tug of nostalgia. He stood up straight, letting the wind stroke his cheek as the bright sun warmed his skin and head.

Every one of his senses made it seem as if this place actually existed.

However, it was Susano’o’s kami realm—an imaginary world he had created.

The wind carried the scent of the trees, water, and soil. It lacked any hint of the exhaust generated by daily human life. Minato smelled nothing but pure, intricately refined natural scents.

This…is a kami realm.

Reminding himself of this fact, Minato turned to face Susano’o next to him.

“You need to be much gentler.”

This god really just did whatever he wanted.

Of course, Minato knew deep down that all kami were like that. It was all thanks to his kami next door.

Even so, Susano’o was far too impulsive.

This was kidnapping, plain and simple.

Just going on appearances, the kami looked about the same age as Minato, so he didn’t hold back with his complaints.

Susano’o chuckled mischievously.

“If you were a young lady, I would’ve carried you in my arms…but there’s no way I’m doing that to a guy.”

“I wouldn’t have liked that, either.”

Both men grimaced. Just imagining that scene sent a chill down their spines.

Just then, Minato heard a faint sound behind him.

The Yamagami and Yamata no Orochi had touched down on the ground. Turning around, Minato breathed a sigh of relief at seeing them.

Being with a strange god in a strange place made him uncomfortable. Even knowing that he could cut through the kami realm by himself, it would be awkward doing that in front of Susano’o, who would probably try to stop him.

The Yamagami looked around.

“Hmm, I remember a scene like this. The scenery is pleasant.”

“You think? We renovated it relatively recently, but we’ve pretty much neglected it ever since. You know, I don’t feel like I’ve seen this style of architecture a lot lately.”

“It has become quite uncommon.”

“It has…? That boy only goes where there are lots of people, so I assumed that these kinds of houses just weren’t used in such places…”

“The human world changes quickly, and styles come and go.”

“So true.”

The two kami chatted easily, one sitting and one curled over itself. They relaxed, the pleasant atmosphere of their conversation well suited to the surroundings.

However, unnatural gusts of wind blew from the left and right, ruffling the fur of the Yamagami. But it didn’t move an inch.

Having no fur, there was no visible change to Yamata no Orochi. It simply squinted its eight pairs of eyes, as if complaining about the dry air.

Nearby, Susano’o and Minato’s wind fight had begun.

They maintained a distance between them about the size of the Kusunoki residence as they sent out waves of wind.

Each swipe of Susano’o’s sword toppled the trees around him. His wind pulled them from the ground and carried them away—the very definition of “roots and all,” Minato thought.

The entire time, Minato continued redirecting the wind that blew toward him, pushing it up into the air.

Susano’o could only emit wind from his sword, and the broad slashes were surprisingly not that sharp.

They differed radically from Fujin’s honed blades of wind.

Perhaps it was more apt to describe it as something like a raging hurricane. If Minato let his concentration lapse for even a moment, the wind would blow him away. His feet left the ground a couple of times, and each time a chill went through his body.

During their battle, Minato started to worry about all the surroundings.

The aerial onslaught had scattered the trees and thatch on the roofs, devastating the area. He hated to see the trees ruined, of course, but what was even more heartbreaking was the wrecked houses.

“Aren’t you overdoing it a little?!” he yelled at Susano’o. “You’re going to ruin everything around here.”

“Don’t worry about it; we can trash the place as much as we want. The houses are just decorations. No one lives here. Even I hardly come by,” Susano’o commented offhandedly.

He moved restlessly around Minato, like he had to keep moving, releasing gust after gust from his sword.

Minato just diverted the winds and didn’t attack.

Their wind powers were evenly matched, so neither would reach the other. And because Minato didn’t want to fight, he instead deftly deflected the winds.

After a little while, Susano’o kicked off the ground and leaped high into the air. He brought his sword down on Minato.

Minato dodged sideways. A torrent of wind gouged out the ground right before the sword stabbed where Minato had just been standing.

He righted himself, drenched in a cold sweat. A few seconds slower and he would have been split in two from the head down.

Susano’o stood with pursed lips, his sword resting on his shoulder. He looked beyond disappointed.

Minato glared straight at him.

“It’s hardly fair to attack an unarmed person,” he said to the kami.

His tone had gotten harsher, and he clenched his fists tightly.

“I got pissed off because your wind’s so weak.”

Susano’o flipped his sword around casually. He handled the sword with practiced actions, but it must have been quite heavy.

Weapons like swords were fine to admire, but Minato had no desire to own one. They possessed considerable power and made anyone holding them mistakenly feel stronger.

“You should get a weapon, too,” Susano’o said.

“I don’t have one, and I don’t want one.”

“Come on, you’re so boring. Also—”

Susano’o thrust his sword into the ground. Resting his hands on the hilt, he stared scornfully at Minato, his chin slightly raised.

“Are you really okay with your wind as it is now?”

“It’s enough to protect me and those around me. I prefer to not fight if I don’t have to.”

“What? You really think you can protect anyone with wind that weak? More importantly, your weakness makes Fujin look bad, as the first human he ever loaned his power to.”

This was news to Minato, and it shocked him a little.

“—I’m the first…?”

“You didn’t know? I’ve been around for a long, long time, but I’ve never seen Fujin loan his power to a human.”

Minato remembered something.

He was talking to a very high-ranking kami. Minato had forgotten that because of Susano’o’s human appearance and rough demeanor.

Minato lowered his hands and bowed.

“Please forgive me. I should never have spoken to you in such a manner…”

Susano’o’s face dropped, and he extracted his sword, pointing the tip at Minato.

“Hey, why’re you acting so meek all of a sudden? Wait—is it because I said I’ve been around for such a long time? You think I’m real old, is that it? You got it all wrong! I’m still young! I’m no one’s uncle or grandpa! Don’t you forget that!”

“Very true. Not so long ago, he was but a small boy crying for his mother.”

“Sure was. He was a real whiny little crybaby back then…”

“Shut up! You two stay out of this!” Susano’o yelled, waving his sword.

The Yamagami and Yamata no Orochi were long-time acquaintances of Susano’o’s and knew all about his dark past. He had clearly heard their quiet murmurings, even across the considerable distance separating them.

“Also, why are you geezers drinking?!”

Indeed, at some point, the Yamagami and Yamata no Orochi had settled in and opened the sake.

Yamata no Orochi turned a deaf ear, filling the Yamagami’s voluminous sake cup from a decanter held in one of its mouths. Somehow, it poured more than the decanter could hold.

The Yamagami waved a paw to stop it.

“That is enough.”

“That’s it? You don’t drink as much anymore?”

“Nay, these days I merely take a lick or two. But I do adore sweets.”

“Some things never change.”

Always a heavy drinker, Yamata no Orochi left one head lucid while the other seven bobbed drunkenly.

The fighting resumed. The kami and the human ran as they faced each other over a narrow river.

Susano’o swung his sword. The river swelled into a tsunami, collapsing a water mill and millhouse and pushing them toward Minato. He deflected it with a blast of wind, brushing them behind him. The lumber crashed into the houses, destroying them.

He couldn’t worry about that now. Avoiding Susano’o’s attacks required his full attention.

The kami kept his distance, never straying too far nor coming too close. The tattered houses and trees looked like the remnants of a hurricane.

The village was surprisingly large. Susano’o and Minato left a wake of ruined houses and trees, dried-up rivers, and misshapen ground behind them.

A three-story palace rose in the center of the village.

The structure seemed sturdier than the other buildings. It might have been strong enough to provide a barrier against the wind for a short while.

Minato ducked behind the palace, hoping it would fulfill that single purpose.

Just as his pace slackened, a shadow fell over him. A violent wind assaulted him from above.

Susano’o had leaped over the roof. Or more accurately, he’d run over the roof.

Minato immediately darted away, left with no other choice but to flee. He faced the sky, short of breath.

“Attacking from the sky is cheating.”

“Why don’t you fly, too? You must know how. If Fujin can, then so can you. You handle his power well—though it’s still weak.”

That hit a nerve, and Minato thrust out an arm to send forth a barrage of small wind blades. The blue color of Fujin’s divine power edged the crescent blades.

Susano’o slashed them down one after another with his sword, looking exhilarated.

“So you’re finally ready to fight?!”

That might’ve been a bit careless, adding the divine power to his wind.

A dark cloud formed behind Minato as he realized his mistake, and Susano’o came at him even more ferociously.

About an hour passed.

Minato was bent over double and gasping for breath. His panting was the only sound echoing across the kami realm.

“That’ll do it.”

Susano’o, however, appeared completely fine, one hand on his hip and his sword resting on his shoulder.

Minato trembled again, seeing the obvious, immense difference between kami and humans.

“Your wind is much better now. More like Fujin’s.”

Susano’o looked satisfied. Though his methods might need polishing, he was probably just training Minato in his own way.

Piles of debris surrounded them.

None of the houses or trees stood upright any longer, the terraced fields were a mess, and tunnels bored through the ground in places. A discordant breeze caressed the ravaged landscape.

Golden particles flowed in from some unknown place as Susano’o made his sword disappear. He brushed his hair away from his face and looked at the hunched-over Minato.

“Y’know, I might’ve given you a hard time and all, but it’s plenty impressive that a normal human can even use divine power at that level.”

His words were a little kinder. It was almost like he was conveying his approval.

As Minato’s face slowly lifted, Susano’o added, “You’re still not even close to Fujin, though.”

“…You didn’t have to say that…,” Minato said dejectedly.

Susano’o let out a loud laugh and rubbed his stomach. “I’m always ready to eat after a little exercise. You hungry?”

“…Less hungry…than thirsty. But I was told kami don’t feel hunger…”

For kami, human nutrition—food—was just an indulgence.

“True. We don’t get hungry like humans do, but I eat something every day, so I feel like I get hungry. Let’s head back to your place. You can make me something to eat.”

Seriously? He’s going to bully me into feeding him now?

Susano’o laughed cheerfully, not looking the slightest bit bashful.

“Hosting people is a Japanese custom.”

Minato didn’t have enough energy to protest.

Suddenly, he heard a sequence of strange sounds like the earth rumbling.

Minato strained to look behind him and saw eight heads draped over the Yamagami. Yamata no Orochi was fast asleep, using the mountain as a pillow.

“I should off him in his sleep again…”

Minato pretended not to hear the violent musings over his shoulder.

Having returned safely to the Kusunoki residence, Minato practically collapsed to the ground in relief.

He knew this garden intimately. The hard earth didn’t bother him.

Susano’o sauntered past the lurching Minato, sat arrogantly on the veranda, and crossed his legs.

The Yamagami tossed Yamata no Orochi down off its back. The eight heads snored ceaselessly, squirming every now and then.

Even the impudent Susano’o didn’t dare sit in the place of honor—the Yamagami’s usual spot. The enormous wolf jumped lightly up to the veranda, walked leisurely over the floor, and lay down on its cushion.

Susano’o probably avoided it because of the large cushion there, Minato thought, stepping up onto the veranda. While he was hungry, what he really wanted was to just fall asleep on the spot.

Unfortunately, however, the hungry kami wouldn’t let him.

“Hey, where’s the food?”

“…Please wait a moment.”

Hunched over and run ragged, Minato walked inside, muttering to himself.

“One of our neighbors used to go on and on about how she felt ready to kill her husband every time he demanded dinner while she was exhausted. But now I get it. I’ve never felt that way until now.”

“Just name the time and place,” Susano’o said.

He cackled and slapped his knee. Minato glanced at him.

“I hope you never say that to your wife.”

“Of course I would never say that to my wives.”

His expression and tone quickly turned serious.

So somewhere in him was a devoted husband. Minato decided not to inquire further about his plural use of “wives.”

Minato scraped together a lunch spread as fast as he could and then collapsed at the low table. Across from him, Susano’o simply sat and took in the garden. He showed absolutely no desire to help.

“It must be nice being you.”

Those words he’d heard so often from his mother rose in the back of his mind.

The table was packed with large plates of food.

They were mostly Japanese dishes, but Minato hadn’t had the energy or willpower to prepare individual portions. This way, everyone could eat whatever and as much as they liked. It was the best way to serve large numbers of people—though there actually weren’t that many people there now.

One person and…three kami? Should I count Yamata no Orochi? Minato wondered as he studied the giant snake stretched out on the veranda.

It looked like Yamata no Orochi was sleeping peacefully, however, so he decided to leave it be. Minato, Susano’o, and the Yamagami crowded around the table.

Susano’o inspected the steaming food.

“Wow, you had this much food here?” he said, sounding impressed.

“That’s what you notice?”

Minato wasn’t even trying to speak politely anymore. Susano’o didn’t care in the least.

As he spoke, Minato thrust a pair of chopsticks at the man in front of him—grip first, of course. Uncharacteristically, Susano’o accepted them graciously and picked up a small plate.

Later, however, when Minato offered him a bowl filled with steaming five-grain rice, a terrifying expression crossed Susano’o’s face.

It was enough to bring a child to tears. Subjected to the murderous glare reserved for an archnemesis, Minato backed away.

“Hey, where did you get this food from? None of it came from any holes in your body, did it?”

The gruff accusation froze Minato’s blood solid. He stared blankly in confusion. “Where did you get that idea…? Of course not. I’m just a normal human.”

Minato didn’t know the myth about Ogetsuhime no Kami feeding Susano’o food she produced from her orifices, only to be killed by the disgusted kami when he discovered the source. But the Yamagami did, and it downed the karaage on its small plate in one bite. The juice from the meat filled its mouth, and the wolf wagged its tail happily.

“If you’re worried about that, then you don’t have to eat it.”

“Oh, I’ll eat it! I’m starving!” Susano’o said quickly.

He swiped up the bowl being pulled away from him and dipped his chopsticks into the rice. With surprisingly proper manners, the kami devoured the huge bowl of five-grain rice and side dishes.

“This chikuzenni is really good. The crunchy lotus roots in particular are delicious; the flavor’s seeped all the way through them. I like it a lot.”

“I’m glad. It’s leftovers from last night’s dinner.”

“…I don’t like this stewed eggplant much, though. I’m not saying it’s not good, just that I don’t care for it.”

“It was too much of a pain, so I just made a quick version of the sauce.”

“Hey, don’t cut corners like that.”

“I thought you wanted to eat as soon as possible.”

“…Well, yeah.”

Minato casually brushed aside Susano’o’s relentless torrent of blunt opinions as he ate his fill. Even though he was exhausted—no, because he was exhausted, his appetite was as healthy as ever.

All the while, he showed Susano’o no deference, but treated him the same as any of his friends back home.

While the two men faced each other, their hands and mouths constantly in motion, the large wolf chewed its karaage as leisurely as always. The meat had been soaking in a garlic soy sauce brine—the Yamagami’s favorite—since morning, and it was freshly fried. An entirely different air surrounded the kami happily stuffing its cheeks.

All the while, Yamata no Orochi rolled across the veranda. Apparently, it moved around a lot in its sleep.

It whacked Susano’o in the side, and the kami pushed it away, sending it rolling to the edge of the veranda.

“Man, you sure eat a lot for someone so skinny,” Susano’o commented. “And you eat super fast. Don’t forget to chew.”

“I can say the same about you,” Minato fired back.

“Yeah, true. You gotta eat a lot and grow up big…though I guess that’s not gonna happen anymore.”

“I’m already a fully grown adult.”

“Eh, you’re like a baby to me… Actually, you and I aren’t so different.”

“As far as looks go, sure.”

“I told you not to treat me like an old man!” Susano’o cried out. “I’m still young!”

It seemed like that was the one thing that always set him off.

“But you gotta eat up and get better with that power Fujin lent you,” he continued.

So when it came down to it, that was all he cared about.

Minato crunched into some pickles.

“You know, I’ve been wondering. Why do kami say they lend people power? Does that mean they’ll take it back at some point?”

“No, it’s not like that. They won’t take them back while you’re alive. When you leave this world, each one of your powers will return to the kami that lent it to you. Also, it can only be used by you. Even if you have a kid someday, they won’t inherit any of your powers.”

“So that’s what it means…”

Minato hadn’t told him, but Susano’o had noticed that he possessed two kinds of divine powers.

It reminded Minato that kami would know just by looking at him.

“Yeah, those kami met you and decided to lend you some power. I’m sure your child would be special to you, but—”

He stabbed a piece of karaage with his chopsticks and looked straight at Minato.

“—not to those kami. They chose you, not your children. Kami are stingy. They don’t like anyone using their power without their permission.”

Susano’o smirked; he seemed to be enjoying himself.

If would have looked cooler without the piece of rice stuck to his chin.

Minato felt a weight lift from his shoulders at learning the answer to a question that had been on his mind for a while.

He never thought too hard about marriage or kids, but it was a relief to know that any children he might have wouldn’t inherit his divine powers. If it had skipped several generations, he wouldn’t be there to help them.

And if they possessed these divine powers from birth?

The thought alone terrified him.

Babies live entirely on instinct and couldn’t control their power. It would cause no end of trouble for everyone around them. It was even possible that such a child couldn’t be raised properly.

Minato had been granted his powers as an adult. By that time, he had accumulated life experience and could tell right from wrong, so it had worked out fine.

Even so, it’d taken a while for Minato to make the power his own. He had trained his power in the martens’ kami realm until he could control it.

He’d also failed countless times along the way.

The only reason he could even work that hard was thanks to the Yamagami’s continued support.

He’d been blessed with the environment that he had.

But he couldn’t be so sure about future generations. Nothing guaranteed that the Yamagami would look after his children.

Minato wasn’t the type of person to immediately assume something like that and never acted like he’d been “chosen by the kami.”

“Yamagami, would you like some mayonnaise or lemon for your karaage?”

“Lemon will do nicely.”

Minato attended to the Yamagami’s every need without batting an eyelid.

Susano’o watched them, peering over a hearty bowl of miso soup. “Fujin didn’t tell you any of this?”

“No, not really,” said Minato.

“What about my sister?”

“…Your sister…?”

When Minato realized who Susano’o was talking about, he almost dropped the lemon he was squeezing.

“Your sister, the great kami Amaterasu…? You don’t mean…”

“Who else would I be talking about? You met her somewhere, right? Otherwise, she wouldn’t have loaned you her power.”

Minato couldn’t believe that he had received power from such an elite kami.

But something bothered him…

“That lazy goddess is Amaterasu…? Why does the goddess of the sun live in a damp place like that…?”

“Ahh… So you met her in her realm? She puts on a good show when she needs to, but she’s super lazy when she’s at home…”

Susano’o’s hollow laugh echoed around the veranda.

“Oh, by the way—”

He stopped moving his chopsticks and smiled innocently at Minato.

“When do you wanna fight again? Tomorrow, or the day after? Or maybe right after we finish eating?”

“You want to have another fight?!”

The typically mild-mannered Minato finally snapped at the god’s outrageous question.

Susano’o cackled raucously, clutching his stomach.

Chapter 11: Bring It On

In a closet of the Kusunoki residence was a shogi table.

It was thick and heavy with a beautiful wood grain. One look at this masterpiece would convince anyone to treasure it for the rest of their life.

It’s such a waste to keep it hidden away, thought Minato as he wiped it down.

He knew the rules to shogi, having played with his grandfather. He’d also finished all his cleaning, and the kami had nothing but time.

So he decided to ask for a match.

Minato carried the shogi table over to the Yamagami, who dominated the center of the veranda.

The Yamagami had been dozing, but it blinked and sat up.

“You want to play, all of a sudden?”

“I just thought it might be nice to have a game every now and then.”

Minato set the shogi table down, and the wolf observed its surface.

Sitting across the board from the Yamagami, Minato picked up the wooden box of shogi pieces sitting on top of the table.

“Yamagami, are you up on the rules?”

“Up on them…?”

“Like…do you know the rules?”

The Yamagami wasn’t good with slang words, so Minato often had to explain them. It actually helped him realize just how much slang he used in his everyday speech.

“Naturally,” the Yamagami declared confidently, “I do not.”

“I thought so. I would have been surprised if you did. Shogi kuzushi should be fine, though. Let’s play a bit.”

“…Oh?”

It seemed intrigued.

Minato overturned the wooden box onto the shogi board. He gently lifted it up to reveal a mound of shogi pieces, with a few tumbling down the side.

“Okay, I’ll show you how to play.”

“Hmm.”

Minato placed a finger on one of the shogi pieces and dragged it toward himself.

“You slide pieces to the edge of the board like this. You can’t make a sound, though. If you do, then it’s the next person’s turn.”

“I see.”

Minato slid the piece into his palm, then showed it to the Yamagami.

“Whoever gets the most pieces wins.”

“Simple.”

“It looks that way, but it’s actually quite difficult. It can get pretty addictive.”

“Hmph. Then let us begin.”

And with that, the silent battle commenced.

Minato pointed to the mound of shogi pieces.

“Please, Yamagami, you go first.”

“Are you sure? If I start, you will likely never get a turn.”

“Where’s all this confidence coming from? Why don’t you give it a try first?”

The Yamagami placed a slightly curved claw on a piece. Silently, smoothly, it slid the piece toward itself. It was doing well.

The wolf’s eyes were narrow, as if to convey how simple it found the whole thing. However, partway to the edge, the piece caught on one of the board’s lines, and it refused to move any farther.

“Hrmm….”

The Yamagami pressed a little harder, and one side tilted upward. It would certainly make a sound like this. The wolf’s front paw quivered.

Clack. As expected, the edge of the piece fell to the board. That made it Minato’s turn.

“It’s surprisingly hard, right?” he said.

“Hmph… It is your turn. Quickly.”

“Okay.”

The Yamagami was already hooked.

Minato chuckled and reached out to the pile. The Yamagami stared intently, watching every single movement.

Before long, the pile of shogi pieces flattened out.

The Yamagami only had two pieces in front of it.

Looking annoyed, it whacked its tail on the cushion and glared at Minato’s box full of pieces.

“Hm, something is amiss. Why am I losing? It is impossible…that I would lose. I will not allow it. We will play again.”

“Sure.”

Again. This was the fifth time it had said that word.

So far, the Yamagami had lost every round. Even though it was a beginner, Minato didn’t go easy on the kami.

“This time for sure I shall get my vengeance.”

Deep wrinkles creased its nose as the wolf stared directly at Minato, swearing victory.

Just then, the breeze blowing through the garden stopped. Minato felt like he saw flames of determination blazing behind the Yamagami’s eyes. Those fires kept burning without end.

“You’re really going to take it that seriously…?”

But Minato’s frustrated voice didn’t reach the ears of the completely focused Yamagami.

The Yamagami smoothly dragged another piece toward itself, when its progress was interrupted just a few centimeters or so away from the edge.

Caught on another accursed line, the piece didn’t budge, neither forward nor backward.

“Hrrrngh, not again… How dare a simple shogi piece defy me?”

The tip of its claw trembled with the force with which it was pressing down. The piece started to move slowly, but eventually it fell to the board with an audible clack.

It was almost at the edge, too. Almost. How disappointing.

“Damn you! By whose permission did you make that noise?!” it said, chastising the upturned piece. The wolf’s sharp glare seemed ready to shatter it into dust.

“I feel bad for the pieces. Don’t break them, Yamagami.”

“I know.”

Reprimanded by Minato, the Yamagami turned away with a huff.

Minato’s turn.

He started working on one side of the mound. Minato slid one of the pentagonal pieces toward him by its top edge. Guiding it from such a short edge and sliding it at that angle was a risky move, but it traversed the board easily.

Just then, a gust of wind swept into the veranda.

For some odd reason, it only blew on the inside of Minato’s hand.

“Ow!”

It stung like an air gun pellet.

The blast struck his finger, causing the piece to fall—or rather, causing it to blow across the board. It made a series of rattling clacks and tumbled over the edge.

Minato stared across the board, suspicion in his eyes.

“No cheating, Yamagami.”

“What do you mean? It is simply a very, very lively piece. What a loud noise it made. How ill-mannered. But rules are rules; what can you do about it? I believe that makes it my turn.”

It sat there looking smug, feigning innocence.

Following that, Minato did likewise, sending out his own gusts of wind. The game continued until dusk—but whether it was shogi kuzushi any longer or some sort of air battle was unclear.

The next day, just before noon, a refrigerated package arrived from Minato’s parents.

He signed for it at the front door. The cardboard box was wrapped in a layer of cool air and heavy enough that it felt like his arms would fall off. He felt like every time he or his parents sent a package in this ongoing back-and-forth, it weighed more than the one before.

He lugged the cardboard box into the living room.

“…This one’s even heavier than the previous one.”

It might be because he’d crammed his last package to his parents with Mother’s Day gifts and presents, thanking them for everything they did for him.

He lowered the box to the floor next to the dining table so the Yamagami rooted there could see it from its spot.

At the moment, the great white wolf was sprawled out on its cushion in the center of the veranda, eyes closed. But it was watching.

It was often unconcernedly watching Minato when it didn’t appear to be.

In fact, right now, golden light seeped from cracks in its eyelids—an obvious sign that it was paying attention.

Minato thought that it should just go ahead and stare openly, but it didn’t want Minato to know that it was interested. It might be particular about that, or it could just be at that age where it wanted to play it cool.

Minato had never really known why, so he always pretended not to notice.

Purposely not paying attention to the Yamagami, he pulled the tape off the cardboard box.

Minato opened the lid to reveal a mass of towels and sponges in lieu of packing material. They were regular inclusions. Doing this reduced garbage and helped Minato, but he already had too many. He took them out with a wry smile.

Wrapped inside were bottles of condiments including soy sauce and miso, and some food.

“…No wonder it was so heavy.”

He pulled out the largest bottle of soy sauce. The label was one he’d known since childhood, belonging to a superb product from his parents’ favorite brand, and not something he could get around here. The factory didn’t deliver direct, either.

Soy sauce is a key ingredient in Japanese cuisine. But the name “soy sauce” is far too broad, as each one tastes so radically different. Each region has its own unique flavor.

Purists would go so far as to describe the soy sauces from different regions as wholly different condiments altogether. It was like miso—or, actually, the differences were even more pronounced with miso. That’s why people always insist that nothing can top their family’s homemade miso recipe.

“We’re almost out of miso, too, so this is a big help.”

He took out a transparent container of barley miso—the type his family and other people in their onsen town made.

To Minato, miso soup wasn’t “miso soup” without this flavor. After all, he’d eaten it not just at his family home, but at his neighbors’ houses, too.

Needless to say, this also wasn’t sold around here.

While Minato wasn’t picky about how his food tasted, familiar flavors held a special place in his heart. If he had the option, he wouldn’t choose anything else.

Along with the condiments were other local delicacies.

The shopping street close to the Kusunoki residence wasn’t that big, and none of the stores sold things from other regions. That was why his mother always included things he couldn’t get locally.

Last of all, Minato removed a small, worn pouch at the very bottom of the cardboard box.

He untied the string holding it shut, and a gemstone tumbled out.

The angular green stone fit snugly in the hollow of his palm. He held it up to the light, revealing a web of lines marking its rough, cloudy surface. It was a far cry from those glimmering, polished gems.

But its natural contours mesmerized him.

“This is pretty big. I’m surprised it can still find ones this size.”

It was a gift from the doji that lived in his family home.

Minato often sent sweets and sake for the doji, so it gave him things in return. Usually, they were seasonal things from nature like tree nuts, but every now and then, it sent uncut gems like this.

It must have come from the river running through the center of the onsen town. Minato used to hunt for gems and rare stones in that very river.

The gift had been slipped in without anyone noticing it while his mother had been preparing the package.

Minato stood up. Across from him, next to the TV stand, rested a wicker basket—the house’s sole decoration. The basket was shaped like a boat with handles and held a number of small gems.

All of them were gifts from the doji.

Minato added the new gemstone to the pile. The collection displayed an assortment of stones in a wide variety of hues including white, maroon, and dark yellow, and in all sorts of different sizes. The colors went together surprisingly well and made Minato smile.

Minato had just finished making some doorplates for his parents’ house, and he packed them into the now empty box.

“Doorplates for the house, for the hotel, and for each room.”

The doorplates had to be changed whenever they lost their power, so Minato had switched from the thick, high-quality wood he’d used before to a thinner one. The lumber had come from a supplier Minato had been using for a long time, not from the Kusunoki camphor tree. Although he still had a lot of camphor pieces left, he hadn’t used them, because he only had a limited supply.

Everything in the box was made of cypress wood.

“It smells nice.”

Minato never tired of that familiar scent. It reminded him of the onsen, which was exactly why he’d chosen it.

Perched on the doorframe, the Yamagami twitched its black nose.

Next, Minato added the key chains. He put in more than there were rooms at the inn.

And with that, the box was full.

“It might be too much…but they go missing… Seeing this many key chains almost makes it feel like our inn is some sort of huge resort.”

The Kusunoki Inn only had three rooms in the main building and two cottage suites. It was a relatively small, family-run onsen inn.

Having packed the doorplates, Minato filled a second box with an assortment of goods he’d somehow ended up with.

The last thing he wanted to add was the wooden statue he’d carved.

It was a round bird standing on a circular base. Minato had been carving the ho’o, but its fragile comb had snapped off right at the end, turning it into a squat little chick.

The ho’o had been watching the moment it snapped and made a face like the one in Munch’s The Scream. Afterward, it pecked forlornly at the broken comb, making Minato feel mortified.

This chick carving was the only thing made of wood from the divine camphor tree.

Minato stared at it in his hand.

“I think…it’s pretty good. I hope the doji likes it.”

After a lot of practice, Minato finally felt like a skilled enough woodworker to show people his creations without embarrassment.

Having lost its comb, the head of the doji’s gift was smooth. It didn’t know the ho’o, though, so it would probably assume that Minato had just carved an ordinary small bird.

“Hand it to me,” a voice suddenly called out, and Minato froze with the carving halfway into the pouch.

The Yamagami sat tall atop its cushion, eyes on Minato.

“What, you don’t think it’s good?”

“It is not bad, but nor is it good.”

The Yamagami beckoned him closer, and Minato obediently carried the carving over. Since Minato was still a novice with wood carving, the elimination power probably wasn’t sufficiently contained.

Minato put the wooden statue down by the Yamagami’s feet, and the wolf studied it.

“You intend to present this to a being such as us?”

“Yes, I was going to…”

The Yamagami glanced at the gemstones in the wicker basket, then lightly set a front paw on the wooden carving. Golden particles fluttered in the air, and Minato watched through half-closed eyes before eventually shutting them.

“Surely you knew it would be so bright,” the Yamagami said.

“…I did. But I wanted to try to see it.”

Determination alone wasn’t enough, though. In the face of that brilliant light, Minato covered his eyes with his hands and let out a moan.

By the time he lowered his hands, the Yamagami was already lying on its cushion. It was in full-on relaxation mode, with all four legs splayed out.

Minato inspected the wooden statue. Nothing about it seemed different.

“O Great Yamagami, what miracle have you performed?”

“Hm? I simply strengthened the elimination power.”

“Ahh! How will I ever repay you?”

Joking around a bit as he thanked the Yamagami, Minato placed the carving inside the pouch.

He topped the carboard box off with some sweets for the doji. All of them were gaudy and colorful.

The doji generally liked anything, but it particularly liked things that were brightly colored, unique, and new. Those things disappeared immediately after going on the kamidana. Young, innocent children liked the same sorts of things.

“It must be extremely curious.”

Minato started putting away the pile of things he’d been given. But he stopped when he saw one of the bags in his hand.

It was something he’d won somewhere and completely forgotten about.

Written on the package were the words Hard Chew for Big Dogs! So nice to chew, your dog won’t be able to put it down!

Bags in both hands, Minato considered something:

He’d never offered the Yamagami anything made for a dog…well, a wolf. Not once.

The Yamagami adored anything with smooth bean paste and happily consumed everything except rice and noodles. It pretty much ate the same things as humans.

At times, though, it did declare itself to be a wolf.

In that case, maybe it would enjoy things that wolves like. If the package says it’s for dogs, then it should be fine for a wolf, right? Probably, definitely.

“Yamagami, you like hard foods you can chew on, right?”

“Aye. It is sometimes nice to have something solid to gnaw upon.”

It did like them. Minato, of course, had known that. Whenever he served meat on the bone, the Yamagami never left so much as a speck—of meat or bone.

“Would you like to try this hard treat, then? It’s supposed to be nice to chew.”

He held the packet up for the Yamagami to see, hiding the part about it being for dogs. Those golden eyes would catch that detail immediately. The treat was a little thinner than Minato’s wrist and rock-hard, making it perfect for dogs to sharpen their teeth on.

He was met by silence.

Only the constant sound of the waterfall was audible as the Yamagami sat there staring at him.

Minato broke out in a cold sweat, wondering if he’d made a mistake.

The big wolf rose. Leisurely, unhurriedly, excruciatingly slowly.

But its gaze never left the treat.

“Hand it to me.”

It sat proudly, filled with the dignity of an ancient kami.

And yet the nonstop swishing of its tail betrayed its excitement.

Relieved, Minato opened the packet.

It lasted until the door chime announced the arrival of the delivery driver who’d come to pick up the boxes. That harsh sound like grinding bone sent a chill down Minato’s spine as it echoed around the picturesque garden of the gods.

At the foot of a tall mountain stood an onsen town. Steam rose as far as the eye could see, and wooden inns dotted both sides of a swift river.

At the edge of the town, near the upper stretch of river, sat the Kusunoki Inn. Though they employed a chef, this family-run inn was by no means large. It was a modest wooden establishment with three rooms in the main building and two cottage suites.

Next to it sat a traditional Japanese house where Minato had grown up.

In the living room on the first floor, a slim middle-aged woman—Minato’s mother—opened the package that had just arrived from her son.

Mrs. Kusunoki removed the pouch. She knew it was for the doji, but she checked inside just in case.

As she pulled out the wooden carving inside, a soft smile appeared on her face, which resembled Minato’s.

“Oh, how cute. It’s…an owl…?”

It was a baby bird. Though, well, it could pass as an owl. That’s how these things are.

She turned it around to examine it and let out an impressed sigh.

“This is good enough to sell. Our son is so talented. He’s been making some money writing talismans or something, and now he’s taken up wood carving? I wonder what he’ll end up doing with himself.”

She returned the carving back to the bag and placed it on the kamidana.

Any gifts for the doji and other nonhuman beings were always left there.

Just then, the sliding shoji door opened, and her husband—Minato’s father—poked his head in. Mr. Kusunoki was of medium height and build, and he always looked calm and relaxed.

“Honey, the customers staying in the cottage—”

He abruptly cut his sentence short.

Mrs. Kusunoki turned around and saw him looking down, shoulders slightly hunched, slowly turning his head. He was staring at something, but there was nothing and no one there.

Whenever her husband did things like that, it meant he’d sensed a nonhuman presence nearby. She had grown used to it over their many years together, so she wasn’t surprised.

Mrs. Kusunoki checked the altar and saw that the pouch she had just placed there was gone.

The doji must have taken it and left—even though it usually waited until the middle of the night to retrieve things. But her husband stood motionless, silently watching the vacant corridor.

A hand on her cheek, Minato’s mother gave an understanding smile. “Oh my, it seems the doji couldn’t wait.”

“What did it take?”

“A wooden statute of an owl that Minato carved. It was so round and cute.”

His mother’s inability to see anything outside the human realm surpassed even Minato’s. Her husband and father-in-law, however, had convinced her of the existence of these invisible beings.

Just now, the pouch had disappeared in the brief moment she’d glanced away. The sliding door her husband had opened was the only entrance or exit, and all the windows and doors were shut tight.

Only a nonhuman being could do something like that.

“The doji seemed quite pleased.”

Minato’s father couldn’t see the beings, but he could sense them. After all their time together, he could sense the doji’s feelings.

“Really? Well, we’ll have to tell Minato.”

Mrs. Kusunoki cheerfully pulled out her cell phone and wrote a text.

“‘My son, be pleased. It appears the doji took a great liking to the owl carving you gifted it. Your mother would very much appreciate the gesture if you made one for her, too, next time.’—And send.”

Reading the screen, Mr. Kusunoki let out a short sigh.

“Do you always have to write your messages like that?”

“Hm, why? What’s wrong with it?”

She playfully cocked her head in feigned confusion.

Chapter 12: Purify Us, Please

Only the soft sound of falling water resonated in the garden of the gods. In the center of the yard, the camphor tree frolicked, taking in the afternoon sunlight.

And on the veranda, Minato’s brush danced over a piece of washi paper.

He made talismans almost every day. It helped him retain the feel of the work and hone his unique powers.

Minato steadily drew the grid pattern. Jade-green elimination power seeped into the paper from the tip of the brush. A moment later, small hexagons followed the light, sealing that powerful glow into the washi paper.

One of the shapes distorted just as he drew the final line, and the hexagons all collapsed, unable to contain the light any longer.

Across from Minato, the Yamagami watched all of this.

“The jade light is leaking. But I’m sure you are aware of that.”

Minato’s brow furrowed slightly. “I thought so. My focus lapsed right at the end… Thanks for telling me.”

The Yamagami nodded.

“I think I’ll call it a day,” Minato said.

“That seems like a wise decision.”

Once his sealing power fell apart, it became extremely difficult to use it again. Minato never produced anything of quality once he lost focus, so if he continued, he’d only end up creating inferior talismans.

For that reason, he’d asked the Yamagami to let him know as soon as his sealing power faltered.

Minato’s strict teacher—Drill Sergeant Ho’o—wasn’t on the table. It was still asleep, and Minato had wanted to use that time to try improving a little.

Minato checked his phone. He’d set a timer to gauge how long it took for the hexagons to collapse.

And the result was—

“Exactly thirty minutes.”

“Well, that is slightly longer than last time.”

“…But only by three minutes. I guess any improvement’s still an improvement, though.”

“Tangible results are important.”

“You’re right. Even three minutes.”

“It may only be three minutes, but it is still three minutes.”

Minato couldn’t see it, but the Yamagami could.

The time may not have improved significantly, but his talismans contained a far more potent sealing power than before. And on top of that, the elimination power stayed sealed inside for much longer.

Currently, they would keep their power for about one month.

Minato had explained as much to Saiga. That said, the onmyoji used talismans so frequently that the one-month limit never posed any problems.

At this rate, Minato should eventually be able to seal the power away for years.

After checking the time on his phone, he glanced up at the sky.

“There’s still some time before it gets dark. Maybe I’ll do some carving.”

Minato had kept at the craft that the ho’o had urged him to take up.

He actually enjoyed it quite a bit, and sometimes he’d get so absorbed in the work that he’d lose all track of time. Thanks to that, his skills had improved dramatically, and now the ho’o’s comb didn’t snap. Reaching that level had produced a lot of wooden chick statutes, though.

Even Reiki and Oryu were interested.

They wanted statues of their own.

What…? Minato’s eyes had gone wide. It was quite the daunting request of a novice like himself. Honestly, the round-bodied ho’o was much easier to carve.

Reiki he could probably manage. But the many intricate parts of Oryu required a master’s skills.

If they volunteered to be his models, however, it would provide an excellent opportunity. He could carve them from the physical source rather than from his imagination. Those two were certain to make excellent wooden statues that would sell for a fortune.

If he could pull it off, that is.

“I’m still not very good yet.”

“That is of no concern. Your model has just awoken.”

Minato looked over his shoulder at the stone lantern behind him. The flame housing’s glass window was just opening.

The ho’o hopped nimbly out. It stopped at the edge and bent backward, likely stretching its back. The Four Spirits were all old, as ancient as the Yamagami.

So reflected the youngest member of the Kusunoki residence, the man who brought the average age way down.

The ho’o’s eyes shone as it flew over toward them.

The moment its feet touched the table, it began reviewing the row of talismans. It nodded until it saw the final one—the failure—and spread its wings wide.

Clearly, the sergeant wasn’t going to let that slide.

It looked up at the straight-backed Minato.

“Are you going to carve now? Are you?” its whole body seemed to ask.

“Wait just a moment. I’m going to wash my brush and inkstone in the river.”

Tap water couldn’t wash off ink made using the river’s divine water.

But who would ever say something like washing a brush in a river? Minato chuckled to himself, thinking that you’d never hear that in a normal household.

The big wolf rose and collapsed into its cushion.

It splayed itself out, then heaved a deep sigh. The whole sequence was so slow and sluggish, it perfectly described how a mountain would move.

The wolf’s large, imposing body exuded a solid sense of presence. Minato could hardly believe that, just the other day, that same body had almost vanished. A powerful glow radiated from the parts of the body reflecting light from the sky.

“You know, Yamagami, you’re really not that easy on the eyes.”

Minato’s sarcastic remark contrasted with his gentle smile as he stood next to the kami, brush and inkstone in hand.

The Yamagami just let out a guttural snort and rested its chin on the cushion.

Minato walked the short path through the garden. He always checked on the camphor tree and the surrounding soil whenever he passed by.

It looked so fragile with its three scant leaves, more part of the grassy lawn than like anything you’d call a tree.

It hadn’t sprouted any more leaves, nor grown any thicker or taller.

But even if it was growing slowly, it was incredibly lively.

When Minato stopped, the camphor waved its largest leaf back and forth like a flag. It was the tree’s way of saying hello and letting him know it was doing well.

He was glad that it was healthy, but those frantic movements every time made him worry that it would shake its leaves right off.

“Your soil’s pretty dry. Do you want some water before evening?”

The camphor tree’s leaves stopped waving and drooped slightly, before the smallest leaf slowly stood up straight. It felt bad that it needed so much water every day.

None of Minato’s assurances helped the camphor feel better about the situation. Unique though this camphor may be compared to other trees, it still wasn’t an animal that could go to the watering hole all by itself.

Minato picked up his brush and inkstone.

“Hang on just a moment. I’ll give you some water after I wash these.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a spray of water splash into the air.

It came from the bend in the river with the Ryugu Gate, where Oryu rested with its chin on the rock. It must have splashed the water with its tail, as it always did. Those shining eyes stared at Minato.

“You can leave the watering to me.”

Minato clearly understood its meaning. Oryu tried to help the camphor tree grow whenever the chance arose.

As he was wondering whether it was really okay to entrust Oryu with the watering, Minato looked over at the camphor tree. It had crossed its two largest leaves to form an X.

The camphor tree was steadfastly refusing. When Oryu saw that, his long whiskers drooped.

Rain from the clouds Oryu made promoted plant growth. So with most of its power back now, any of that rain would cause the camphor tree to immediately become huge.

The camphor was unusually cautious about such rapid growth, because Minato wanted it to grow slowly.

“Thank you, Dragon.”

Minato would at least show Oryu his appreciation.

He paused in front of the river.

“Shoot. I forgot my bucket,” Minato muttered.

As soon as the words left his lips, he heard a clatter behind him. Minato looked over his shoulder to see the sink-sized wooden bucket rattling on the ground.

It had appeared in an instant.

He didn’t need to wonder who had brought it over.

“Thank you, Kirin.”

He picked up the bucket without looking around. The kirin moved too quickly for his eyes to follow, so it wouldn’t matter if he did try to spot it.

From its perch on the roof above the veranda, the kirin nodded, satisfied.

Minato dipped the wooden bucket in the river at the foot of the arched stone bridge.

In front of him, Reiki swam against the current. Its mountain-shaped shell and the tip of its head floated on the water as it passed calmly beneath the bridge.

Keeping Reiki in his peripheral vision, Minato placed the bucket full of divine water on a flat rock.

“Phew.”

The rippling water stayed as pure and clear as ever. It showed no hint of murkiness and nothing floating on the surface.

He dipped his brush in that divine water.

Ink radiated out in a circle when the tip touched the surface, but the blackness disappeared immediately, and the water shone clear again. He lowered the entire brush into the divine water, and every last trace of ink vanished.

White bristles soaked in pristine, transparent water.

“It still amazes me every time.”

Even swishing the brush around in the water didn’t produce any ink.

Washing an inky brush typically required a fair amount of water. When using divine water, though, all it took was a rinse for all the ink to disappear without a trace.

Minato always used a bucket because washing the brush and inkstone directly in the river—what had once been the gourd-shaped sacred pond—didn’t feel quite right.

A shadow passed over Minato as he lifted the brush from the bucket.

Looking up, he saw a single large bird flying off toward the mountain. He couldn’t be sure from this distance, but it looked like a bird of prey he hadn’t seen around here before.

“I wonder where it came from. If it’s not stopping by here, then it’s not visiting Bird.”

Most wild birds usually tried to approach the ho’o.

Minato kept watching, perplexed.

The hair on one side of his head—and only one side—fluttered lightly. He covered his ear at the strange ticking sensation.

“…Just now…I thought I heard something…”

For the briefest of moments, he’d thought he heard a noise on the wind.

As if someone was whispering in his ear.

Just as Minato was rising from his crouched position, the Yamagami, Reiki, Oryu, the kirin, and the ho’o all looked in the same direction: the sky above the rice fields.

Past the open fields, near the tip of a small mountain in the distance.

A black dot hovered in the clear sky.

It was approaching slowly, ever so slowly. As the small point grew larger, it resolved itself into a faint mist covering several black dots.

A miasma-enveloped mass was coming toward them. Again.

But its sluggishness paled in comparison to the kirin’s rapid pace the other day.

Reiki and Oryu hoisted themselves out of the river, and the turtle glanced toward the kirin on the roof.

“No normal animal could have moved with such speed.”

“That’s the one good thing about the kirin. After all, it still gets possessed by evil spirits.”

“Quiet yourself, Oryu.”

The kirin glared daggers down at Oryu floating below it.

On the veranda below, the ho’o paced quietly in the middle of the table.

The lazing Yamagami watched the ho’o scowling at the sky.

“Stay still,” it advised the ho’o. “You will cause Minato to worry.”

The ho’o stopped.

It seemed like it wanted to keep moving, though, and it opened its wings slightly. It just couldn’t stand still.

The reason being that the incoming group of black dots was a flock of birds. Big, small, all variety of wild birds—the ho’o’s children.

Corruption covered their normally vibrant bodies, painting them a filthy black.

To Minato, it just looked like a flock of cacophonous wild birds.

However, from the way his companions were fixated on the sky, he guessed that the same kind of impure thing as the other day was headed their way.

Minato looked down at his feet. He hadn’t washed his inkstone yet, so there was still some ink left in it.

He used the pure-white brush to soak up the black liquid to the base of the bristles.

Brush in hand, Minato exited the front gate to find a cuckoo leading the flock.

It landed on the gravel road, flapping its wings violently. It was trying to shake off the contamination enveloping it, but that wouldn’t dispel the corruption covering its body.

Minato moved closer, and it closed its wings. Even then, however, it continued to shake its head—a clear sign that it was in pain.

The cuckoo calmed down when Minato pointed the brush at it. He drew a vertical line filled with elimination power across its forehead, and the corruption vanished before the brush tip even left its forehead.

The white cuckoo blinked several times, its pain suddenly having vanished.

More wild birds came tumbling down, one after another. As they landed near the front gate, they thrashed with wild cries at their unbearable suffering.

Inside that endless curtain of feathers, Minato drew a line on the head and wings of each wild bird. The line he drew on the thirtieth bird—a type of swallow—was only faint. But when he removed the brush, there was no longer any trace of the corruption.

Surrounded by the wild birds, Minato looked up at the sky.

There were no birds in the air, nor could he hear any screeching bird cries. Only the camphor trees around the Kusunoki residence rustling in the wind.

“That sparrow was the last one,” the Yamagami said through the front gate, sitting inside the property.

The tip of its black nose hovered just at the edge of the gate. It might be bigger now, but it had correctly assumed that Minato would be upset if it got too close to the contaminated beings. Part of the Yamagami’s thoughtfulness was not making Minato worry.

As if driving the point home, Minato looked at the Yamagami with relief.

“You all came here to see Bird, right?” he asked the birds, who stared up at him.

They were species that Minato had never seen before and had presumably come from far away.

“You can head inside. Go meet Bird.”

“Before that, a bath is in order. They all seem quite tired.”

Now that the Yamagami had mentioned it, the birds’ eyes looked dull, and their wings were ruffled.

Minato opened the front gate all the way, and the group of birds hopped, flew, and slowly walked through into the Kusunoki residence.

Splash, splash. One by one, the birds dived into the onsen. Space was a little tight with all thirty inside, but they could still move around a little.

At first, the birds just sat there soaking, but after a little while, some began swimming and flapping their wings. A few minutes later, they all looked invigorated. The immediate effect of the onsen really was incredible.

Minato watched from the surrounding rocks.

“Aye, they are revived,” the Yamagami said, nodding earnestly by his side.

“That describes the change perfectly. I can’t believe what a dramatic effect the onsen has. The birds have energy, and their wings are shinier. I know from experience how well it can ease weariness, but I honestly didn’t think the effect would be so obvious. Is the effect greater because the birds are smaller?”

“I have temporarily increased its restorative effects.”

“Did you do the same thing with the kirin last time, too?”

“Indeed.”

At some point, the Yamagami had done something to the onsen.

Minato peered inside the water. Except for all the feathers, it didn’t look any different.

“—No, wait, I think there’s a little less steam than usual.”

“I have also reduced the temperature to make it lukewarm.”

“Oh, you’re so thoughtful, Yamagami.”

The big wolf sat there proudly as, beside it, the wild birds jumped out of the onsen. They shook the water off their bodies, making it fly all around.

What else could they do, though? They were just regular animals, not kami that would dry out instantly.

Minato grinned at the scene, and the ho’o flew up from the table. It used its divine power to propel itself through the air, so its wings flapped slowly.

It flew smoothly over to perch on the stone lantern, then looked back and let out a sharp chirp.

The wild birds gathered around all at once.

They had splashed water and left wet footprints around the onsen. The ho’o called them over to the stone lantern so that they wouldn’t loiter near the veranda.

“Bird is very considerate. You know…it always strikes me how capable of a leader it is.”

“Aye. They are well trained.”

“I’m not sure it was Bird who trained them, though,” Minato remarked, taking in the countless feathers floating in the dirty onsen water. “Let’s clean up the onsen first. I can take out the feathers, but I can’t do anything about the dirt…”

“Leave that to me.”

The Yamagami rested its two front paws on a rock by the onsen.

The dirt and feathers vanished in the blink of an eye, returning the onsen water to its regular silky state filled with floating minerals. Steam started to rise from it once again.

Minato brought his hands together and prayed to the Yamagami.

“O Great Yamagami, thank you so very much.”

“Nay, this was nothing. Mere child’s play,” the wolf said modestly. But it thrust out its chest and wagged its tail with pride.

“All right, let’s go back to the veranda,” Minato said, turning around.

Diagonally behind him, the Yamagami turned its nose to the sky above the rice fields. Wisps of clouds streamed across a blue sky free of impurities.

But the Yamagami squinted and sniffed briefly. Faint wrinkles creased its nose, and it looked away unhappily.

Chapter 13: Feasting on the Ocean’s Bounty

The bounties of the mountain are great, but so are those of the ocean, Minato thought as he filled the portable grill set up in front of the veranda with rows of sazae sea snails.

The spiky, turban-shelled snails had arrived by express delivery from the nearby coast—gifts from Fujin and Raijin. Each one of the mollusks was huge and looked incredibly filling.

Water bubbled from the mouths of the shells above a bed of glowing coals. Minato dribbled a mixture of soy sauce, sake, and mirin over them, and a succulent fragrance wafted through the air when the deep-brown sauce began to bubble.

Fujin, Raijin, and the Yamagami were all drinking on the veranda, surveying the grill.

Raijin in particular, whose love for soy sauce ran deep, hadn’t stopped smiling.

“I could keep drinking with this smell alone.”

“So you say, but you’ve stopped,” Fujin commented, with a nod to the motionless sake cup in the red hand next to him.

Minato chuckled through the steam rising from the sea snails.

“I know you also like things on the sweeter side, Lord Thunder, so I added some mirin.”

“Thank yooou!”

Raijin gave an exaggerated wink that practically emitted hearts.

It was only Minato and these three kami at today’s lunch banquet.

The ho’o was asleep as always, and Reiki, Oryu, and the kirin were all out. Seri, Torika, and Utsugi hadn’t come.

The martens typically served everyone on these occasions, but in their absence, the chef himself delivered the food to his guests. Minato set the sea snails down in front of Fujin and Raijin still in their shells, but for the Yamagami, he wedged a pair of chopsticks inside and twisted the shell to pry loose the meat inside.

They’d never had grilled sea snails in their shells before. Seeing him skillfully handle the chopsticks, the two human-shaped kami mimicked Minato’s movements to extract the meat from within the shells. They learned quickly and were extremely good at it.

The turban shells reminded Minato of another way to enjoy the snails.

“Once we’re done eating, do you want to drink sake out of the shell?”

Raijin stopped cold, mouth wide and meat halfway there.

“—I’ve never even considered doing that. Is that something humans do?”

“My father did. He said that the juices left over in the shell enhance the flavor.”

Minato couldn’t handle more than a sip of sake, so he didn’t really know.

Raijin stared at the shell in its hand.

As Minato watched, he set a morsel of meat on the Yamagami’s plate. Its black nose almost butted up against where it spiraled, and it inhaled deeply.

“What a pleasant scent…,” it murmured, satisfied.

Next to the Yamagami was another plate filled with something else: seared bonito. Before he’d grilled the sea snails, Minato had quickly seared the bonito until its skin crackled. The thick slices of bonito were set on rings of fresh onion and covered by a huge mound of sprouts, shiso, and green onion.

To top it all off, Minato had added plenty of garlic, ginger, and ponzu sauce—the Yamagami’s favorites.

The Yamagami had taken its time relishing the bonito, but it hadn’t been able to ignore the lure of the sizzling sweet soy sauce. The sea snails had captivated it.

Puffing steam from its mouth, the Yamagami looked as if its expression had melted.

“—It is truly, wholly sinful. That bitterness is particularly nice.”

“…It is really good.”

Still standing, Minato devoured his in a matter of seconds and hurried back to the grill.

The Yamagami slowly shook its head as it watched Minato walk away.

“I told him to eat slowly, but he never listens.”

“Yeah. But y’know, you can’t talk about people not listening.”

Raijin’s blunt observation didn’t bother the Yamagami. It just continued to stuff its cheeks with sea snail meat.

“At least he chews his food properly, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Hearing Fujin comment behind him, Minato poured olive oil into an iron pot—a Dutch oven. He quickly minced some garlic, fried it lightly, and then diced some onion.

Raijin picked up a piece of bonito with his chopsticks and sniffed. “Why does garlic smell so marvelous?”

“It seems like you’re really taken by it, huh?”

“Yeah, I really am. The first time I came here and tried it, I was blown away.”

Minato’s hands moved constantly as he listened to the kami talk.

He cooked the onions until they turned translucent, then added some uncooked rice. Next to the shining black pot was a table filled with seafood that had been gutted and cleaned: big shrimp still in their shells, squid, and clams.

Needless to say, these were other gifts from Fujin and Raijin.

Minato was excitedly making paella.

The Yamagami didn’t eat food with rice in it, and of course, the Four Spirits mostly just drank. Fujin and Raijin happily ate rice, though, so Minato made a rice-based dish every time they visited.

He always incorporated the seafood they brought into the meal, and today he was serving up a European dish. Something like this, which used rice to soak up and concentrate the flavors of the seafood, was sure to please Fujin and Raijin.

The pot with the bouillon and seafood in it started to boil, and Minato covered it with the lid.

He was making paella—a Spanish dish that’s delicious and easy to cook. It was a dish he’d been cooking for years, so Minato was quite good at it by now.

Running an onsen inn kept Minato’s parents extremely busy.

His grandfather insisted that, boy or girl, everyone needed to learn how to take care of themselves, so all the children in Minato’s family had learned every household chore at a young age.

Minato felt very grateful for his grandfather’s insistence after he left home. He never struggled living by himself—especially when it came to cooking. Everyone loves the taste of home; those flavors you grow up with will always be special. And when life prevents you from enjoying those flavors, you crave them all the more.

But Minato had never suffered when he got a craving for a home-cooked meal. He could easily re-create the recipe on his own.

“Still, my cooking’s no match for my mother’s.”

Muttering earnestly to himself, Minato took off the lid, added paprika, and covered the pot again.

He marveled at the fact that you could make a dish in exactly the same way—the same ingredients, same seasonings, same recipe—yet it would somehow taste different. His mother unabashedly proclaimed that it was because her food was filled with love for her family.

In no time at all, the paella was ready.

Minato finished serving Fujin and Raijin before finally settling down on the veranda.

Raijin put his nose close to the little plate piled high with rice and seafood and sniffed it. Fujin happily grabbed a shrimp with his chopsticks.

Minato, meanwhile, was almost halfway done.

He didn’t wolf his food down. Instead, he ate neatly, calmly tucking his food away at such a pace that anyone would question whether he actually chewed.

“How is it?” Raijin couldn’t help but ask, watching Minato devour the food.

“It’s delicious, of course,” Minato replied, quickly swallowing a mouthful. “Oh, I almost forgot; we have some good sake. I’ll go get it right now.”

Minato set his plate down and made to stand, but Fujin stopped him.

“Oh, thanks. I appreciate it, but you can do that after you finish eating.”

Unable to rid himself of the instincts he’d developed working at the onsen inn, Minato stayed busy even when he was eating.

“Take your time and eat. It is making us feel rushed.”

“…Okay.”

Even the Yamagami had felt the need to say something.

When the piles of empty plates towered high, Minato served Fujin and Raijin a special junmai daiginjo sake. He’d actually bought it for himself—a rare occurrence—having come at the highest recommendation of Tanba Liquor Store, his regular supplier. It was a gift to express his gratitude to Fujin for granting him the wind power that proved so useful in his daily life.

This exceptional sake was hard to find, but Minato had found a bottle easily, thanks to the blessings of the alcoholic Four Spirits.

Fujin stuck his nose into the glass, taking in the concentric circles on the bottom. He smiled at the rich, full aroma it gave off.

“It smells like fruit. This scent must become even more intense when it’s chilled.”

Fujin and Raijin typically preferred their sake at room temperature, but sometimes they wanted it chilled or warm.

That didn’t mean extra work for Minato, though, because they could change the temperature all on their own.

Fujin glanced down at his hand, and an icy wind swirled around the glass. Light reflected off that fine ice—diamond dust.

Fujin’s powers mesmerized Minato every time he saw them.

Minato stared openly today, too, as the cold wind brushed over him. Goose bumps formed on his forearms for an instant before disappearing.

A few seconds was all it took to chill the room-temperature sake. Fujin tipped back the frost-covered glass, and the Yamagami watched the circular design decorating the bottom.

Fujin always drank everything in one big gulp and never seemed to savor the taste. Everyone enjoys sake differently, though, so as long as he was satisfied, Minato had no complaints.

“Yeah, it goes down smoother when it’s cold.”

“Really? I’ll try mine warmed up.”

Raijin cupped his glass in both hands.

Minato felt a slight warmth. The sake suddenly heated, emitting its strong alcoholic smell and little trails of steam. Minato could only be impressed at seeing how easily they demonstrated their skills.

It baffled him how Raijin could raise the temperature of just the sake without creating any lightning, but he just couldn’t look away.

And then—

“I always think that your power must be so useful,” Minato said.

Raijin smiled brightly and leaned over. “Right? Right?! It’s incredibly useful. You want some of my power? I’ll lend you some.”

“Oh! We’re out of side dishes. I’ll go get some more.”

Raijin took every chance he could to offer to lend Minato his power, but Minato had grown adept at changing the subject.

“We still have plenty of bonito.”

But the Yamagami, still enjoying its fish, stopped him short.

Half the plate in front of the Yamagami was still full. Here was a kami who savored every last morsel of food with glacial slowness.

Fujin and Raijin still had enough food, too. Desperate for a way out, Minato grabbed the teapot and filled his cup.

“By the way, you’ve started to hear the voice of the wind, right?” Fujin suddenly asked.

He looked straight at Minato and spoke definitively, but Minato was still confused.

“The voice…of the wind…?”

Thunk. He returned the teapot to the table. Teacup in hand, Minato searched for an answer, while the three kami kept eating and drinking their fill.

Minato was immediately struck with a realization.

Both after checking the vine bridge in the mountain and eliminating the miasma from the flock of wild birds, he’d heard a noise that sounded like a human voice.

“That was the voice of the wind? Or, rather, the wind has a voice?”

“I am its physical embodiment.”

“But you’re more than a voice. You have a body, too…”

Minato squirmed under three pairs of pitying eyes that seemed to say he should know better by now.

“That voice comes from a Wind Child—also called a ‘Wind Spirit.’ It carries the voice of someone talking to you from somewhere far away. So listen to it carefully.”

“I just need to listen to it…?”

“Yes, the most important thing is to maintain an attitude of listening with sincerity.”

The Yamagami turned to the sky. Slightly above the roofline, the kami realm opened to the world.

Natural wind—Wind Spirits—poured in one after another. They looked like young, tiny versions of Fujin with heads practically the same size as their bodies.

Wind Spirits buzzed around Minato, chanting as they passed.

He could neither see nor hear them, only feel that wind flow around him.

He furrowed his brow and concentrated on listening.

But he didn’t hear a thing.

After staying like that for a while, he began to hear faint sounds mixed in with the wind brushing against his ear that quickly faded.

They weren’t high- or low-pitched; the only thing he could really tell was that they were vaguely different from human voices.

The voices intrigued him, but the sprout dangling from the Yamagami’s mouth fully occupied his thoughts.

“Close your eyes,” the Yamagami advised. But Minato couldn’t tear his mind away from that lone errant sprout.

Raijin dipped a piece of bonito in some sauce. “Humans rely on sight too much.”

“It sure seems that way. They receive the largest amount of information when their eyes are open, but all their other senses get dulled.”

“Yeah. We’ll never understand that.”

Raijin waved at Minato, who was fixated on the Yamagami.

“Hey, hurry up and close your eyes,” the lightning kami urged. “You can’t even see that much, so there’s no point keeping them open.”

Raijin wasn’t wrong, but that was a pretty harsh way of saying it. He never did sugarcoat his words.

A mix of emotions showing across his face, Minato obediently closed his eyes. He desperately wished to hear the voice of the wind.

“Well, my children are extremely fickle, so it’s not like they’ll bring you useful information every time.”

“That makes sense. After all, they’re your children.”

Fujin poured himself another cup of sake, not responding at all to Raijin’s whispered jibe.

Again, Minato’s hair swayed on one side of his head.

Apparently, Wind Spirits only speak into one ear, so Minato concentrated on that one ear alone. Try as he might, though, he couldn’t make out any words. He thought he heard some noises, but it could have been the blood coursing through his veins.

His legs tucked underneath him, Minato folded his hands over his lap and focused all his energy on listening. Meanwhile, next to him, fine ice crystals covered Fujin’s glass. A cross-breeze sent a spray of crystals into the garden.

“Hey, stop that. No messing around.”

Fujin lightly scolded the Wind Spirits, and Minato heard some playful laughter as they flitted away.

“Oh, they’re laughing?”

“Yes, very happily.”

Minato opened his eyes, and Fujin set his empty glass to the side.

“Keep trying to listen to my children, and they’ll bring you even more voices and sounds than you’ve heard so far.”

“Like how you knew all about those things that happened to me?”

Fujin tiled his head and grinned.

“That’s right, I don’t ever have to sneak up and listen in on anyone. I just ask my children, and they re-create all the sounds and voices just like they happened.”

“They ‘re-create’ them?”

“Yeah. Honestly, Wind Children aren’t that bright. They don’t understand human language, but they can re-create the sounds.”

“Oh, I see.”

A warm breeze wrapped itself around one of Minato’s arms, so he turned to ask it a question.

“Can you tell me what you heard here yesterday?”

He strained his ears but heard no reply.

“I can communicate with them about a lot of different things, but you’ll find it difficult because you’re a human.”

Fujin looked at Minato as he stacked sliced onions on a piece of bonito.

“Even so, if you just want to know about something that happened in the past at a certain place, they’ll eventually tell you at some point.”

A gentle breeze swirled around Minato’s upper body, and Fujin smiled.

“If they take a liking to you, they’ll eventually bring you voices from people far away or carry your voice to someone over long distances. They can do things like that.”

The playful Wind Spirits ruffled Minato’s hair and fluttered the hem of his jacket.

He stretched an arm out in front of him, palm upward, and a lukewarm ball of wind circled his arm, spun on his palm, then quickly escaped up into the sky.

They seemed very fickle. It would take a lot of work to befriend them.

“I wonder if they’ll ever like me…”

Minato smiled bitterly, and the Yamagami jutted its chin up.

Just then, a gust of wind blew from above. The breeze surrounded the big wolf, ruffled its long fur, and retreated into the sky.

The Wind Spirits had obviously answered the Yamagami.

“…Yamagami, are you and the Wind Children friends?”

Chest puffed out proudly, the now sprout-free Yamagami retained an air of dignity.

“Aye. We have known each other for a long time.”

“Yeah, a reeeeal long time. The concept of what we are emerged soon after the Earth formed,” Raijin said casually.

A serious look came over Minato’s face. He couldn’t even fathom how many years that was and felt his consciousness drifting out.

Raijin burst out laughing. “Shoot, now you know how old we are.”

“It’s a bit late to worry about that now, don’t you think? Those memories from so long ago are kind of fuzzy. Every time we look around, the continents are all in different places,” Fujin said, staring off into the distance.

“You got that right.”

“Something is always moving. I used to find it incredibly unsettling,” the Yamagami said, looking displeased.

Minato sat next to it, sipping his tea in silence. He couldn’t join in the conversation. The concept of time for kami and humans proved too different for him to comprehend.

“All the lightning Raijin made carved up the mountains and the earth,” the Yamagami complained.

“It was fun, though. I was young and cute back then.”

“You went too far when you made that tiny island vanish,” Fujin added.

But even with the Yamagami’s and Fujin’s criticisms, Raijin replied with a casual “You think?” as he filled his glass with sake. “That was just the one time. And most of the ground I carved out are lakes now. Birds rest there during migrations. A lot of birds were there by the south end near town today, too.”

“You’re just trying to justify it.”

“That place is livelier than ever. It’s become a popular spot, so it’s all okay. Right, Minato?”

Suddenly roped into the conversation, Minato could only smile blankly.

Chapter 14: Does the Wind Bring Good Tidings?

The sun had started setting a while ago. Having picked up everything he set out to buy for the day, Minato walked down the shopping arcade.

The number of people and buildings thinned out the closer he got to the bus stop. He strolled casually, for once not surrounded by any animals.

He was completely alone.

The ho’o wasn’t resting on his shoulder or in his bag, and the kirin wasn’t tailing him like a stalker.

It was just warm enough that he was covered in a light sweat, and as Minato turned a corner, a gust of wind suddenly pushed against his back. The strength of it tipped him off-balance.

He steadied himself, thinking that it might be an invitation from a kami realm.

As Minato stopped and braced himself, the hair above one ear fluttered.

He heard a quiet chuckle, followed by giggling.

Minato immediately looked all around.

There was an old building on his right side and a normal house in front of him. A human figure strolled way off in the distance, but it was too far away to be the source of the sound. On his left was an abandoned store. And the only thing behind him was the paved road he’d come down.

There was no one anywhere within earshot all around him.

Nobody in this empty residential area could have made that sound.

Minato tugged his earlobe. It had to be the work of something other than a human. The Wind Spirits. He couldn’t be certain, but that seemed likely.

His first instinct was to try and spot one. Even though he couldn’t see them with his eyes.

“Oh…”

The inadvertent sigh of disappointment showed him that he hadn’t learned anything.

Just then, a ball of warm wind caressed his shoulders. As if to console him and tell him not to fret over it.

It was immediately followed by another gust that whistled past one of his arms.

“Brr…”

The cold burst he felt was replaced by a lukewarm wind that surrounded his arm, then his hair, shoulders, back, and legs. A soccer ball–sized burst of air bounced against him.

Each gust was a slightly different temperature, as if each Wind Child was asserting its presence.

None of them hurt or seemed malicious. It was all for fun.

Based on the number of balls, it seemed a fair number of Wind Spirits were nearby.

Minato figured they must be playing as a warm wind poured down over him from above.

Thankfully, there was no one else around. Actually, they’d probably waited until he was alone.

Even so, somebody still might see this. It would look so peculiar to see wind blowing all around someone standing still.

Minato started walking, and a high-pitched clanging sound rang in his ear. He hadn’t heard that noise in a while, but he knew what it was.

“Is that the sound of a railway crossing?”

A warm gust of wind patted his back as if to congratulate him on getting the answer right.

In his other ear, he heard a bird chirping.

“That’s the sound that plays when a crosswalk turns green.”

Continuing on, he heard another high-pitched chirping.

“That’s also a crosswalk.”

The warm wind swirled around one of his arms. It didn’t seem fully satisfied with his answer.

“—Come to think of it, the first was the sound for a major intersection, and the other was for a less busy one…right?”

The light breeze flowing over him seemed content.

The wind swirled his hair, blowing his bangs over his eyes.

“It’s about time I got a haircut…”

As Minato was fixing his hair, a gust slashed the surface of the hedge next to him. The shaggy leaves and branches had been neatly trimmed. It was taller than Minato, but the hedge had instantly been pruned faster and covering a wider range than by an electric hedge trimmer.

Minato could have done the same thing, but having it happen without warning almost gave him a heart attack.

Were the Wind Spirits offering to cut his hair for him?

“…I appreciate the offer, but I’ll pass, thank you.”

He was worried they would slice off all his hair.

The Wind Spirits didn’t reply. It was as hard to communicate with them as he’d imagined.

Minato looked down at his feet. Hedge trimmings littered the road, and he felt guilty about just leaving them there. A second later, a strong wind blew down the road, lifted the debris into the air, and carried it off somewhere.

Laughing and giggling, the group of young spirits surrounded Minato, bathing him in warm and cold air. Minato heard their lively voices, but he didn’t know how many there were.

He wondered how this would appear to someone who could see Wind Spirits. He wanted to know, but he also didn’t. The entire situation made him slightly uneasy.

The Wind Spirits continued their sound quiz, telling him whether his guesses were right or wrong, all the way until he finally saw the bus stop.

A line of people was waiting for the next bus.

The Wind Spirits didn’t do anything with people around.

Minato assumed that they would leave him now, but he heard several more sounds.

A high-pitched Japanese flute, drums, and bells.

Traditional Japanese court music.

It wasn’t the lively melody of a festival, but a more dignified, ceremonial song.

“I feel like I’ve heard this at a Shinto shrine,” he murmured quietly to himself.

The moment the words left his lips, a warm burst of air hit him in the side, sending him staggering with one leg in midair.

“Whoa! Hey, stop that.”

They weren’t done, though. Another gust pushed against his dangling leg and back, forcing Minato to change directions.

His foot landed at the start of a crosswalk. On the other side, a little path wove between houses.

Minato never explored much and always just stuck to his regular roads, so he had no idea where that narrow road might lead.

When the light turned green, the warm wind pushed him forward.

He felt like they were telling him to cross the street. They were inviting him to go somewhere.

“…Okay.”

He had planned on going home, but there was still time before the sun went down. He had time to tag along with these whimsical Wind Spirits.

A playful wind pushed his back, hastening Minato’s strides as he got farther away from the bus stop.

Minato kept walking, constantly pushed this way and that by winds of different temperatures. He went through a residential neighborhood, down a path between rice fields, and past another cluster of houses, when his view suddenly opened up.

The path ended at the base of a small mountain.

Minato’s face fell. He’d already walked quite a long way, and now he was being asked to traverse a mountain? He readied himself, then realized that he’d seen this place before.

A crimson shrine stood out at the top of the nicely symmetrical triangular mountain.

It was the Inari shrine where Tenko and her kin Tsumugi lived.

The Yamagami’s mountain rose up behind it.

“They’re surprisingly close to the shopping street. It’s really not that far from home.”

The Wind Spirits had shown him a good shortcut.

Several people had passed Minato as he’d been muttering to himself. They were heading to the bottom of the steep stairs leading up to the Inari shrine, where they were sucked in by the continuous row of torii gates.

At first glance, the shrine and torii looked the same as before. But some of the people leaving through the torii were carrying small packages.

Minato again heard the commotion of a crowd and courtly music in one of his ears. They were the same sounds he’d heard before. The Wind Spirits had carried the sounds of an event at the Inari shrine to him.

“They must be holding some sort of ceremony.”

All this was happening right next door, and he’d had no idea. He wasn’t as passionate about collecting local information as the Yamagami.

Last year, the Yamagami had told Minato about Obon celebrations, summer fireworks shows, the big winter festivals, and more. But it had never said anything about events at the Inari shrine next door.

The Yamagami might completely ignore the shrine, but a good number of people had gathered here on this late weekday afternoon.

No one would describe this Inari shrine as particularly grand, and the stairs leading up to it were steep and narrow. Yet regardless, lines of people kept coming, and Minato was surprised to discover that this many people lived in this area.

“It’s pretty popular…”

Inari shrines with their bold crimson torii exist everywhere in Japan. Every shrine, no matter the size, has its share of regular visitors. The Inari shrine near Minato’s parents’ house was like that, too.

Seeing this many people coming to visit this shrine helped explain why Tenko was so powerful.

But Minato didn’t feel like joining such a big crowd.

So he turned to head home when he heard another sound in one ear.

High-pitched cries.

Several birds were screeching and flapping their wings—a noise that would make anyone feel uneasy.

It sounded just like the cries he’d heard when the corrupted birds came to the Kusunoki residence the other day.

A hot wind bore into his side, and the Wind Spirits guided Minato down another path he had never taken before.

They might be leading to where the birds had been corrupted.

In other words, a nest of evil spirits.

Minato opened his sling bag.

He checked his notepad; the text covering half the pages was a solid black color. He had several camphor leaves tucked inside the inner pocket of his jacket. And he had a brush pen filled with ink made from divine water.

He carried all these things with him every time he left the house. Nothing was missing.

The only thing that worried him was the time. The blue in the sky was slowly fading.

“…How far away is this place?” he whispered, but there was no answer, just more hurried shoving at his back. As expected, detailed communication proved difficult.

This adventure had started by crossing the road, then winding down a narrow path.

He prayed that he would get wherever he was going before sundown.

Propelled by a frenzy of wind, he eventually arrived at a body of water on the south side of town.

Minato’s uncontrollable legs stopped in front of a lake visible through a thick line of trees.

He had covered quite a distance in an incredibly short amount of time, thanks to the Wind Spirits. It was incredible. That said, he’d been lifted up several times, gliding above the ground in ways that made his breath catch in his throat.

Hands on his knees, Minato gasped, trying to steady his breathing.

“M-my chest hurts…”

His desperate panting carried a hint of disgruntlement.

But the Wind Spirits didn’t relent. They tapped lightly against Minato’s back to hurry him up, and the cool air felt nice on his warm body.

He let out a deep breath and started walking. His heartbeat wouldn’t slow down, but he couldn’t afford to take it easy.

A steady chorus of birdsong came from up ahead.

Minato cut through the thicket of trees until he was standing next to the big lake.

This was one of the places where the young Raijin had hollowed out the ground with his lightning, eventually forming one of the lakes the lightning god claimed was so popular with wild birds.

Minato had visited here once before, and the same thought as then rose to his mind now—several massive creatures could comfortably live in this place.

The sun had almost set. The sky was painted a garish red, contrasting with the dark surface of the rippling lake. The reflection of the sunset on the water’s surface painted a gorgeous picture.

Some larger birds splashed around the edge of the lake, occasionally shooting water high into the air.

At least, that’s what Minato saw.

In reality, a miasma cloaked the entire lake in a darkness so black that it looked like midnight.

Minato approached the group of wild birds. A jade ball of light eliminated the darkness, destroying it completely.

The Wind Spirits stayed behind him.

Every trace of the miasma was eliminated from the largest group of birds before Minato even got near them.

Those wild birds had calmed, but there were still many more.

There was no time to walk around the entire lake. But once the sun set, he wouldn’t be able to tell where the birds were anymore.

Minato flipped open his notepad to find the letters inside mostly faded.

He couldn’t reuse paper that had once been imbued with elimination power.

He filled the remaining pages with writing imbued with his elimination power, but it was hard to write properly in that dim light. Though there was no problem with the power they held.

Minato ripped out a piece of paper and emitted a blast of wind.

He sent the paper around everywhere he could see, but couldn’t tell whether the elimination had actually worked. Wild birds cried from several locations, so he couldn’t know.

But it wouldn’t help at all if he got impatient.

Returning the paper to his hand, Minato saw that the letters had vanished. He wrote more and sent them off on trails of wind, doing that several more times until just a few pages remained.

Wild birds flew away, gradually reducing the number of sorrowful cries.

Night fell.

The sparse lights on the path couldn’t illuminate the entire lake. There were only a few birds remaining, and Minato could only hear them splashing in the lake.

He couldn’t see the birds anymore and, naturally, he couldn’t see any evil spirits.

“I wonder if there are still any evil spirits around here.”

Minato expected some sort of response from the Wind Spirits, but he didn’t receive one. He felt no wind on his body, and the warmth on his back had faded.

The Wind Spirits had gone.

Minato looked behind him, bewildered, but all he saw was darkness.

Suddenly, he heard a voice above him.

“You’ve just got a few more left.”

Minato looked up, and his eyes bulged.

A black fox sat floating in the air above the lake, its body outlined faintly by golden particles. It was Tsumugi.

The design on her forehead wasn’t white, but red.

It was a sign that Tenko was inside her body. That voice also made it clear. The kami’s wholly unforgettable voice practically dripped with allure.

Minato knew that this was Tenko he was dealing with.

He’d learned that from the Yamagami, though, not from Tenko herself. So, just to be safe, he asked, “You’re not Tsumugi, but the Inari goddess, correct?”

Tsumugi’s possessed body abruptly tilted its head.

“…Well, you’re not wrong… Some people do see it that way. However, I never liked answering to that name,” she muttered discontentedly.

Tenko straightened her head and raised her chin.

“Though that’s not important now. You are almost done.”

“How many evil spirits are left?” Minato asked.

“Half of the lake and on the shore…just over there.”

Her single tail pointed to the bank on the other side of the lake.

The last time Minato had seen Tenko—or Tsumugi—had been when she’d fought with the Yamagami, but Minato harbored no ill will toward the kami. The Yamagami didn’t seem to despise her, either.

He didn’t really understand the relationship between the two of them, but Tenko was also treating Minato like normal.

Kami are fickle beings that rarely ever recognize the existence of a single human.

As such, Minato recognized the special treatment he was receiving, having the kami speaking to him as an individual.

Those thoughts ran through his mind as he removed his phone from his pocket.

He wanted some light to write by. But his screen was dark.

“It’s dead…”

Minato had originally planned to go out for just a little while, so his battery had been low.

He let out a soft sigh at his own carelessness. As he started walking over toward the nearest light, Tenko floated down to him. Her body shone bright enough to write by.

“Thank you very much,” Minato told her.

Tenko chuckled. “You may thank me with an offering of inari sushi.”

“Is tomorrow okay?”

Tenko’s eyes narrowed, and the corners of her mouth rose in a smile. It was a truly evil-looking expression.

“You said it. You do know that if you make me a promise, you cannot break it for any reason, yes?”

“I won’t break it.”

Tenko hadn’t ended up eating anything the last time she came to the Kusunoki residence. Like the Yamagami, she must have been curious about the things her kin liked.

Something like inari sushi was easy enough to make.

Minato wrote each letter carefully and precisely.

Tenko squinted at the jade light coming from the writing.

“You don’t have many pages left. Put as much power as you can into that one.”

“Okay.”

He ripped out the sheet of paper filled with letters and glanced at the lake, thinking he should just send it around the lake, following the path of the lights by the shore.

Minato prepared a gust of wind, but Tenko didn’t move. She stared into his eyes from very close.

“…Sorry, but would you mind giving me a little space?”

“Those eyes of yours are quite inconvenient, aren’t they?” Tenko said offhandedly, without the slightest indication of moving aside.

Minato’s eyes couldn’t see evil spirits, kami, or other unique phenomena.

He might get a vague impression of something extraordinarily strong, and he could only see beings who chose to reveal themselves to him.

A single glance at those eyes was enough for a kami to understand that.

Fujin and Raijin had never said anything, but they seemed to know.

Tenko, naturally, was no exception.

“They can be a little inconvenient, sure. Being able to see everything would help me improve my power. But I also think that I live a happier life not seeing things like that,” Minato answered honestly with a wry smile.

According to the Yamagami, evil spirits are made when the soul of a dead person cannot stop longing for the physical world.

If he could see those evil spirits, then he probably wouldn’t be able to ignore them. He couldn’t pretend not to see them, and that unnecessary burden might make life hard.

No—it would definitely make life hard for him.

Minato knew himself better than anyone. It was all too easy to imagine.

“I like honest people,” Tenko said, nodding approvingly. “But I’m not going to use my power to make this area light. It’s much easier to simply adjust your eyes.”

The one tail behind her back suddenly multiplied, forming nine tails that fanned out. They gathered light and squeezed it into a little ball.

Though it was just the size of a ping-pong ball, the ball of light shone so brightly that Minato couldn’t look at it directly.

What was going on? What did she mean by “adjust his eyes”? He couldn’t even look at this thing.

Filled with nothing but questions, Minato could only shrink back from the light.

Just then, the kami’s nine tails quickly fanned out again, throwing the ball toward him.

It exploded right in front of Minato’s face. He raised an arm to shield his eyes against the scorching light.

“Hmm, perhaps that was a little too bright.”

Tenko’s voice betrayed no remorse whatsoever.

“—That was awful.”

Kami are selfish and don’t think about others.

Of course Minato knew that. He was used to it, thanks to spending so much time with kami, especially the Yamagami.

With a disconsolate sigh, Minato lowered his arm and blinked.

For some strange reason, he could see extremely well.

It was as bright as midday. Everything was easier to see than when he’d first arrived.

“How…?”

That wasn’t the only thing that astonished him.

A black mist covered half of the lake, with more spurting out from the pitch-black center of the water.

He could also make out a smoky black cloud over Tenko’s body. One glance at it instinctively repulsed him.

All these things appeared clear and distinct, vastly different from the vague forms he had sensed before.

He could clearly sense that they were evil spirits.

Minato glanced at Tenko as she swished her tails.

“I made it so that you can see them for a little while. You’re not used to this, so you might be seeing everything a little too well, but it’s better than seeing nothing at all.”

“Thank you.”

“It was simple. Present me an offering of soba inari, as well.”

“I’ll bring them tomorrow… Oh, wait, will the ceremony still be going on?”

“—You don’t know? It will last for another two days. I will come to you, so be ready to host me.”

“Understood.”

Tenko somersaulted giddily in the air and moved behind Minato.

Now he could make out everything distinctly. This would be easy now that he could see the evil spirits and miasma.

He could even see the light from the talismans.

Realizing that, Minato studied his notepad. Just as the Yamagami had said, a jade light shone from the black letters.

But the light was very faint.

“I thought this light was supposed to be strong…”

“I made it so that you don’t see it at its true intensity.”

“Why did you do that?”

“It’s too bright for human eyes.”

“I-it’s really that strong…?”

“Don’t worry about that. Hurry up and purify these things. Not only is the air bad, but it’s so noisy.”

“Noisy? I don’t hear anything.”

Tenko flicked her tails in annoyance behind Minato as he looked around.

“You cannot hear the voices of the evil things. Hurry, get rid of the ones on the lake first.”

“Sure.”

She most likely hadn’t done anything to his ears so that he wouldn’t hear anything.

Minato looked to the right side of the lake, then the center—the area covered in a ring of black miasma—when thin legs began to emerge from the water.

Several resembled those of a water skipper or a spider. One leg was about the same size as Minato.

He broke out into goose bumps at seeing those things crawling from the lake. Minato sent a talisman out on a gust of wind. The jade ball flew straight, ripped through the miasma, and reached the source of the evil. All the legs bulged and exploded.

Seeing it clearly, Minato’s eyes widened, and his mouth went slack.

The entire mass easily erupted into pieces and dispersed. A wind blew in after it, sending ripples of golden divine power that purified the entire area.

In a very short amount of time, only the calm surface of the lake remained, as though those disgusting bug-like beings had never existed.

“—So that’s what it looks like.”

It shocked him.

Minato had done it all himself, but it still left him completely dumbfounded.

“Next, the bank on the other side.”

Minato let loose a talisman in the direction Tenko indicated with her chin. As his wind traveled, it left a fan-shaped wake, dispersing and purifying the miasma.

“I see golden light following the jade. What is that?”

“There is a certain being close to you that emits that irritating light, is there not?”

“Oh, so that’s the Yamagami’s power… Oh, of course. The sacred water contains some of its power.”

“Yes, you only have the power of elimination, not purification. So that being’s divine power purifies the area. It certainly doesn’t do things by half measures.”

Minato didn’t register the hint of annoyance that accented those last few words.

The wind reached the other side of the lake in no time.

There, on the bank, stood a small shack. At first glance, it looked like it had been built purely out of black building materials. But a closer inspection revealed that wasn’t the case.

Black, wormlike creatures swarmed across every inch of it.

The entire surface wriggled and undulated.

Minato shivered, reflexively closing his eyes and rubbing his arms. He was filled with such incredible repugnance on a psychological level that his goose bumps wouldn’t subside.

Tenko displayed little sympathy.

“It’s your bad luck that that is the first evil spirit you see. Though, perhaps I am somewhat at fault… I might have removed a little too much of the barrier impeding your vision.”

“—No, it’s okay. I could hardly see a thing in that darkness…”

Tenko’s phrasing caught his attention, but Minato was just glad to see anything right now. He wouldn’t complain, but be grateful.

Minato squinted as he surveyed the shack.

This was his last talisman. He couldn’t afford to miss.

He increased the speed of his wind. The talisman flipped through the air before smashing into the shack. The ferocity of that impact—as though he was stomping on a bug—clearly showed how Minato felt toward the evil spirits.

The collision hurled the crawling things into the air with a crash that Minato felt in the pit of his stomach. Shortly after the shock wave hit Minato and Tenko, the surface of the lake swirled wildly.

When the waves lapped against the nearby shore, Minato lowered the arm he had reflexively thrown up to cover his eyes. Tenko hovered behind him, a satisfied smile on her face.

Minato walked down a peaceful country road in the evening, illuminated by the headlights of passing cars.

A black fox trotted along beside him.

Even though it was floating, it moved its legs as if it was walking on the ground.

Minato glanced over at her, his eyes having returned to normal. The sign on the black fox’s forehead was now white, and she had just one tail.

Tsumugi had returned.

Tsumugi and Minato walked home together after all the corruption around the lake had been eliminated.

On the way back, Tsumugi began explaining why the evil spirits had made a nest in that lake.

“Large numbers of migratory birds have been visiting that lake. Many of them brought impurities with them, and those evil beings infested the area and started eating each other, eventually becoming onryo that used the shack and lake as a base.”

“I get it now. I eliminated everything around the lake I could see, but if the birds keep gathering there, then the same thing will keep happening.”

That worried Minato.

He felt very certain that the increase in migratory birds was because of the ho’o. Wild birds from around the world came to visit their leader. There was no way to stop their earnestness, so that lake was bound to spawn a nest of evil spirits again.

Tsumugi glanced at Minato.

“That’s true. But the lake will remain pure for a while, likely a couple of years.”

That, at least, was a relief.

Minato understood that his powers hadn’t done that. He could only get rid of evil spirits and corruption, not purify them.

“All thanks to the Yamagami’s power,” he said.

Tsumugi flicked her tail. “That’s right. It is very generous. My kami wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Really?”

“Yes. She has nothing to gain from it.”

Tsumugi’s eyes showed no hint of a lie.

As they talked, walking along the road lined evenly with streetlights, a small mountain came into view. Rows of bright torii gates floated in the distance.

The place had been a wall of people just a few hours earlier, but now it gaped empty like a giant, slightly creepy mouth—an effect entirely created by the change from natural to artificial light.

Minato found it strange that this one change could produce such a disturbing effect.

First and foremost, torii serve to mark a border. They notify people that a kami realm lies beyond.

Someone emerged from that kami realm.

He appeared to be a young man, and he stumbled through the final torii, probably because the stairs were so steep.

He glanced at Minato as he approached, then turned and started walking in the opposite direction, eyes fixed to the ground. It was too dark to see the man’s face, but his hunched shoulders made him seem somber and depressed.

Minato looked to the top of the mountain—toward the crimson shrine that appeared to float, lit from below as it was. He didn’t hear any human voices, so the ceremony must have been finished.

“People still visit the shrine at this hour?”

“Sometimes. That young man is performing a hundred-visit devotion.”

“…That explains it.”

“Today is day ninety-nine. Tomorrow will be his hundredth visit.”

The human figure moved very slowly down the road. Even walking seemed hard for him.

“He looks sick …”

“Yes, he does. But stopping now would make all the visits up until now meaningless. He could feel sick, or the weather might be bad, but he has to see it through to the end.”

Tsumugi’s voice remained even, as if to say that this was just the natural way of things. Minato stopped walking and opened his mouth to say something but stopped short. Tsumugi turned around and faced him.

“Were you going to say that it is too harsh?” she asked. “This is something humans started doing on their own. They are the ones who decided that a kami would grant their wish if they came for one hundred consecutive days or made a hundred visits and prayers. We don’t remember ever making a promise like that.”

“…I see.”

Minato had nothing to say.

Kami certainly weren’t bound to any rite created by humans.

“Occasionally, a kami will grant a wish on a whim, and people will come back with a mass of offerings, so there are some that get a taste for it.”

“But that’s just humans being humans and kami being kami.”

Tsumugi laughed; she must have found that funny. Behind her, the young man who’d been visiting the shrine even when he was unwell was nowhere to be seen.

Minato had no idea what wish fueled that man’s devotion, but it had to be something big.

Even with such advanced technologies these days, there are still people out there who believe in kami. Otherwise, the man just now and everyone who’d come during the day wouldn’t visit the shrine.

That young man didn’t even notice Tsumugi.

He could neither see nor sense kami.

But he still believed deep down in the existence of those otherworldly beings that surpassed human understanding.

The steadfast devotion of individuals like that who worshipped the Inari goddess, along with the faith of her many followers, is what made Tenko so strong.

It only made sense that her divine power would exceed that of the Yamagami—the kami of a mountain very few people visited. She had made it so that Minato could see supernatural beings, even if only temporarily.

As Minato pondered all this, Tsumugi began to climb toward the Inari shrine as though ascending a set of invisible stairs. The furoshiki cloth bundle hung from her back.

“Were you out running errands today, too?”

“Yes, I just happened to be going by the lake. My kami simply entered my body on a whim.”

“Well, you helped me a lot. Thank you.”

Tsumugi looked back and smiled. “I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch.”

“I’ll be waiting for you with inari sushi and soba inari.”

“I can’t wait. Well, see you then!”

She bounded back up to her shrine.

After seeing the kami’s messenger off, Minato took a side street home that ran along the mountain. The silent peak loomed over tall trees that cast dark shadows in the night.

Minato walked down the dirt path in the light of the half-moon.

Along the way, he heard human voices.

Three people were loading things into a car in front of a house with the porch light on.

“This tent is the last of it, right?”

“Yeah, that’s it… Oh, damn, I forgot the booze.”

“Hey, don’t forget the most important thing.”

The speaker burst into laughter and elbowed a younger man in the ribs to send him back to the house.

Their layered clothes prioritized ease of movement. It seemed to indicate that they were heading into the mountains, while camping gear filled their car.

Minato glanced over as he passed them.

He wondered if they were really planning on driving to some faraway mountain at this time of night. And with such a wonderful mountain so close by.

No—he saw saltwater fishing rods in among their stuff, so they were probably headed to the ocean.

While Minato pondered, the men started talking again as they closed the car doors.

“We live right next to a mountain, but we’re going all the way over to a mountain in another prefecture. I guess we’re pretty particular, huh?”

“Well, the main purpose is to fish in the ocean on the way. And we can’t climb this mountain anyway.”

The guy’s words through his cigarette smoke stung Minato’s ears.

Minato went up the mountain a couple times a month. Mostly he went to clean the shrine and harvest food from the forest.

He never saw anyone else there.

Maybe more people wanted to climb it but couldn’t.

The Yamagami did say that lots of people used to visit.

Minato stopped partway down the dark street and looked back.

The red taillights of the men’s station wagon got farther away. Diagonally above them, lights shone upon the Inari shrine. The oddly bright building reassured Minato, like a lighthouse shining across a dark ocean.

By contrast, the mountain next to it was incredibly dark. It felt desolate.

Yet it overflowed with the dignified presence of the Yamagami.

Even Minato with his dulled senses could feel that. People who could sense kami properly would feel it even more strongly.

Humanity was currently losing that refined sense, but some people still retained it.

Some people in town acknowledged the Yamagami’s existence.

If people started visiting again, it might make the mountain more vibrant and increase the Yamagami’s divine power.

That was what Minato wondered as he gazed deep into that dark mountain.

Chapter 15: It’s Tough Being Neighbors

The Kusunoki residence was always kept immaculately clean.

Not so much as a speck of dust or dirt tarnished the rooms, no fingerprints spotted the windows, and no garbage littered the garden. There were a small number of fallen leaves in the yard, but that was inevitable.

Naturally, all this was the result of Minato starting every day with a thorough cleaning.

After polishing the house inside and out early in the morning, as though working to eliminate any sign of human habitation—that is, any sign of himself—Minato focused his attention on the garden.

He sprayed water on deciduous trees receiving unlimited sunshine.

Oryu had poked its head up from the waterfall basin and flicked some water over at Minato. Minato had caught the spray of water with his wind, transformed it into a mist, and encased the deciduous trees in water one after another. The green of the trees deepened as a small rainbow formed around them.

By the time Minato finished his unique watering method, it was close to lunchtime.

That’s right. Tenko, who had helped him out yesterday, would be arriving soon.

Minato had made the requested inari sushi and soba inari before he started cleaning. He had prepared the fried tofu pouches after arriving home last night, so Tenko and Tsumugi were sure to love their rich flavor.

He wondered if they would be coming together.

As that thought crossed his mind, Minato stopped his wind. With all his chores complete, all he needed to do now was wait for his guests.

“…I should wash my hands.”

Minato walked toward the river. By this point, he was no longer reluctant to wash his hands in its waters.

He bent down on the bank and doused his hands, when he caught a flash of gold out of the corner of his eye. Turning toward the garden wall facing the mountain—he saw some koi weaving through the water at the mouth of the river.

The koi were kin of the kami in the neighboring town who’d wandered in some days ago. They had come by a couple times since, so he knew them well by now.

“Come in!” Minato called out, and the fish swam forward as if they’d been waiting for the invitation.

The golden koi paused by Minato’s hands and gazed up at him as if expressing its thanks.

An entire school swam toward the waterfall.

Throngs of baby fish tailed the golden koi. Each and every one flicked its fins diligently as they fought the current.

They didn’t wander in, so much as come to conquer the waterfall. It was their training ground. The practice never bothered Minato, so he let them in every time.

The golden koi took the lead, climbing to the top of the waterfall and leaving the baby fish alone to push against the current.

As Minato watched in concern, a silver koi slipped past elegantly and noiselessly. It was slightly smaller than the golden one, and Minato only noticed it as it passed under the arched bridge.

“Oh, if the other guardian’s there, they’ll be okay.”

The silver koi had joined the group at some point. It was a strict guardian that had silently watched over the baby fish until the last one managed to reach the top and hadn’t allowed Oryu to help.

Today would be another long, hard day of training for those baby fish. But Minato didn’t intend to comment on their pedagogical method, so he simply let them be.

Minato wiped his hands with the towel draped around his neck as Reiki swam downstream, Oryu trailing close behind. It stretched its neck out toward the Ryugu Gate, the signal that they were going out.

Just as Minato was about to wish them safe travels, a strong gale pierced his back.

There was no need to whip around and check like a samurai on guard duty, though. Who else would it be but the kirin?

Just as expected, the kirin appeared.

But he wasn’t alone.

The ho’o sat between the kirin’s horns. Those two auspicious beasts were pointed at the Ryugu Gate in the river’s shallow.

“Wait, you’re all going? …Even you, Bird?”

The kirin looked straight up at him and spoke.

“Every so often, we like to go, too.”

“It’s just to get a change of scenery.”

Minato could feel their determination.

“Wait there for just one moment.”

He jogged over to the veranda. When he returned, Minato had four pieces of wood in his hands. They all bore designs he had carved and a shimenawa string running through a hole near the top.

Each alone could instantly vanquish about ten evil spirits.

They were very effective charms. He could relax knowing they had these with them.

“I don’t know where you’re going, but please wear these.”

The kirin still wore the first one around its neck, but Minato had no idea how much elimination power remained inside.

The four wooden pieces floated out of his upturned palm.

They flew over the yard and settled on each of the Four Spirits: one adorning Reiki’s shell; one around Oryu’s neck; one around the kirin’s neck, making two now; and the smallest one around the ho’o’s neck.

The Four Spirits looked up to Minato as one, then headed off—Reiki in the lead, followed by Oryu and the kirin carrying the ho’o. They all jumped into the river.

Bringing up the rear, the kirin walked, not swam, through the Ryugu Gate. Once the bright glow from their bodies disappeared into the gate, silence settled over the surface of the river.

After watching that scene unfold, Minato turned to face the camphor tree.

The second his eyes took in the garden’s center, his face went pale in panic.

“The camphor tree! It’s wilting…!”

His pained voice echoed through the garden.

Almost at the top, the baby fish climbing up the waterfall tumbled to the bottom. Having failed, they had to start all over again.

The silver koi looked disappointed that something like a human’s cry could interrupt their focus.

Unaware of these events, Minato rushed to grab the watering can.

Wilting was probably overstating things, but the camphor’s three young leaves were dry and brittle. They drooped weakly, their tips almost touching the ground.

The camphor tree had energetically waved its three bright-green leaves just that morning when he’d watered it. Yet now, both the leaves and the surrounding soil were as dry and cracked as if they were in a drought.

The camphor tree shook its desiccated leaves.

It was apologizing wholeheartedly for all the fuss.

Minato filled the watering can almost to overflowing with divine water, then dumped its contents on the camphor tree.

At the third can of water, the Yamagami opened its eyes from its position curled up on the balcony.

It had been sleeping for a couple of days, completely immobile, like a majestic statue.

The big wolf sluggishly dropped down from the veranda and approached Minato as he showered the camphor with divine water.

Its golden eyes narrowed when it saw the tree.

“That will do.”

“Ah!”

Minato jumped at the sudden voice beside him.

“Good morning, Yamagami.”

“Aye, it is. I slept well.”

The camphor tree trembled violently, and the Yamagami nodded toward the ground, urging Minato to watch.

“Do not blink.”

“What? Again?”

When Minato looked down, the camphor tree’s three young leaves stood upright and started swaying.

Next, the stem elongated, gradually lengthening as leaves sprouted along it. The camphor tree was slowly growing. Each leaf gently unfurled, purposefully slow so that Minato could see the entire process clearly.

The stem stopped when it had grown a little taller than Minato’s knee.

“Aye, it is done for now.”

“I’m so glad. I wasn’t able to see it at this size when I first planted it. Now we can finally call it a tree.”

The camphor tree shook its leaves, ten now instead of three.

“So it wanted all that water because it was having a growth spurt?”

“Precisely. Once per day shall suffice for a while.”

“I see.”

Minato peacefully observed the camphor tree swaying happily, while beside him the Yamagami looked over its shoulder toward the waterfall.

“It is almost time to return it to a pond.”

“No, let’s keep it this way. I like it.”

Minato’s firm tone invited no argument, matched by a serious expression.

He implicitly conveyed to the Yamagami his stern determination not to let it use its divine power on trivial matters. The wolf’s eyes widened.

“In that case, we shall keep the waterfall for the moment.”

“Thank you.”

A clacking at the rear gate rang through the garden’s slightly tense atmosphere.

“Who could that be? Seri?”

Only the kin used the doorplate to announce their arrival.

Minato found three white martens and one black fox lined up outside the rear gate.

So Tsumugi had come with them. There was no sign of Tenko.

“Come on in.”

Utsugi entered first, followed by a line of black, white, and white. They all walked with the same stride.

The fox blended in naturally with the martens.

“They’re friends?”

“In a manner of speaking. They sometimes exchange information, as neighbors do.”

“Huh. I didn’t know that.”

The carefree Utsugi walked straight up to the veranda, while Seri and Torika announced to Minato where they would be.

The black fox parted from the group and approached Minato. When he looked at her closely, he saw that Tsumugi wasn’t actually touching the ground, but floating a couple of centimeters above it.

She stopped near Minato, sat politely, and glanced toward the onsen as usual.

A performative cough preceded a light bow.

“Thank you very much for inviting us today.”

“What is this?” the Yamagami asked, confused.

“I invited them,” replied Minato.

“…I was not informed.”

“Well, somebody was sleeping the whole time.”

The Yamagami narrowed its eyes and flicked its tail in irritation.

Tsumugi set down her ever-present furoshiki-wrapped parcel, then fished out something from inside.

It was a little potted plant. Small, vibrant violet flowers clustered together on drooping branches—a wisteria.

“I picked some of these up today during my errands, and one of them is for you. Here.”

She floated up to a height where Minato could easily take the plant from her. The branches sagged like stalks heavy with rice.

The elegant scent of the wisteria wafted softly over toward him.

Rustle.

The noise came from the corner of the garden—the stone lantern with its fire box shut tight.

It was an incredibly faint noise.

Only the Yamagami noticed.

It glanced over quickly and then looked back to the wisteria in Minato’s hands as if nothing had happened.

“Thank you. It’s beautiful.”

“Isn’t it? Just having flowers nearby fills your heart with joy. My home is filled with them, but you don’t have any, so I thought you could put it in your garden. The flowers don’t last very long, but you can enjoy them for a while.”

Minato could tell from their voices that both Tsumugi and Tenko were female. He didn’t know if Tenko had any other kin, but Minato felt there was a stark difference between his house and this one led by a female kami.

The Kusunoki residence was an all-male household.

Minato was obviously a man, the Yamagami was a male kami, and while he wasn’t sure about the gender of the Four Spirits, Reiki, Oryu, and the ho’o seemed like they were probably male, too. The kirin was anybody’s guess.

“Flowers love unconditionally. They never ask for anything and offer themselves to those who have grown weak. They are such selfless things.”

Tenko’s voice suddenly emerged from Tsumugi’s mouth.

That voice like sweet poison reverberated clearly through the garden. On Tsumugi’s forehead, the lotus flower had changed from white to red, and her one tail had become nine. She had transformed in an instant.

The Yamagami scrunched up its nose and let out a throaty growl.

“Again you enter uninvited.”

“I told you just earlier; we were invited. It seems you’ve finally lost your hearing, too. What a shame.”

“Nonsense. That invitation solely applies to your kin.”

“No, it includes the Inari goddess as well,” Minato chimed in. “That is to say, I invited the goddess herself.”

“Wh-what…?”

Minato’s comment shocked the Yamagami, catching it completely off guard.

“How terribly uninformed you are. This is what happens when you sleep all the time.”

The Yamagami gave Tenko a resentful growl, but quickly let off a flash of light from its body and immediately calmed.

It looked up at Minato, its face a picture of composure.

“I shall require inari sushi today as well.”

“Oh, that’s not like you.”

The Yamagami didn’t usually eat rice.

With a flick of its head, the Yamagami sauntered off the veranda. For some reason, it walked faster than normal.

Tenko screwed up her face at its white back moving swiftly away from her.

“Honestly, trying to eat my share… Stop, you wolf!” the black fox yelled, trotting after the creature several times larger than herself. Their white and black bodies jostled against each other in front of the veranda.

Lined up politely, the kin watched with blank expressions while a bewildered Minato gazed on from the distance.

“…I can’t tell whether they get along or not.”

These neighbors shared quite an unclear rapport.

Shk, shk, shk. The camphor at his feet swayed as though giggling.

The last baby fish climbed up the waterfall together with the silver koi.

The sound of fish falling back down into the waterfall basin was replaced with the lively voices of Tenko and the Yamagami.

Standing in the center of the garden of gods, Minato looked up at the sky, squinting against the midday sunshine.

The sun grew stronger every day, but now it was almost covered by thick clouds. Outside in the real world, the rainy season had finally arrived.

The Feast After the Main Story

Thank you so much for reading Volume 3!

Please enjoy this short story as the afterword.

Chew, chew. Munch, munch. The jaws of the kami and their kin moved constantly where they sat on the veranda.

The Yamagami, Seri, Torika, Utsugi, Tsumugi—Tenko. In that order.

Inari sushi and soba inari covered the plates in front of the Yamagami and Tenko.

The kin weren’t fans of rice or noodles, so they ate butter cookies.

Since they didn’t need to worry about nutrition, Minato gave them whatever they wanted for lunch.

After serving everyone, Minato sat eating inari sushi at the table behind the rest of them.

The only sound filling the space was that of chewing.

The Yamagami and Tenko had ended their squabbling once the feast started.

Everyone was enjoying a moment of peace and quiet.

This is how meals are meant to be. No one enjoys eating in a tense environment, Minato thought as he sipped his soup.

The whole time, Utsugi—who usually filled his mouth to savor his food—held his cookies and stared at the nine tails next to him. The fox’s tails sometimes grew thicker as Tenko chewed, and Utsugi couldn’t take his eyes off them.

Tenko noticed as she reached for her next piece of soba inari.

“What’s going on, little one? You’re not eating.”

Her gentle voice conveyed a drastically different attitude than the one she directed at the Yamagami.

The Yamagami was kind to Tsumugi as well. So kami are nice to each other’s kin, Minato observed as he picked up a piece of soba inari.

Utsugi couldn’t peel his gaze away from Tenko’s swishing tails.

“…You have more tails.”

“Indeed. Tsumugi usually only shows one tail. Is it really so strange to see?”

“She has more?”

“She does. Ask her to show you next time.”

The number of the tails indicated the strength of their divine power. Tsumugi herself had said as much.

So Tsumugi should be rather strong, too, Minato pondered in a corner of his mind.

Tenko grinned in a way that Tsumugi never would. It made Utsugi frown.

When Torika asked if he was okay, Utsugi replied, “…I was just thinking that when the Yamagami possessed me, I did some things I wouldn’t normally do.”

“That’s true,” Minato said.

“Utsugi, don’t say possessed,” Seri scolded him.

Minato’s and Seri’s voices overlapped as they responded. They had both witnessed the event firsthand.

But Utsugi wasn’t bothered by being reprimanded by his brother. He stared scornfully at the Yamagami, though the Yamagami wasn’t affected in the least.

“Mm. Rice is also good to eat sometimes. Though the way it sticks to the roof of my mouth bothers me.”

“Yamagami, would you like some tea?”

The great wolf gave an overblown response, and Minato filled the Yamagami’s teacup before asking Tenko if she would like some. Her empty teacup floated toward Minato from its place in front of her as she busily stuffed her mouth with inari sushi.

When Minato took the cup, he was slightly surprised.

Tenko had elegantly finished every drop of her tea.

“Yes, it was quite delicious. I am very satisfied.”

“I’m glad.”

As soon as the words left Minato’s mouth, the black fox’s appearance changed. The design on its forehead whitened, and its tails reduced to just one.

Tenko had left as quickly as she had appeared.

Tsumugi timidly held her empty plate in both hands, gazing up at Minato.

“May I please have some inari sushi and soba inari, too?”

Nothing had changed about this body that had just consumed ten pieces of sushi, but Tsumugi still wanted some.

“Yes, of course.”

Minato got a new plate and piled it with food. He had been right to make a lot.

“Would you like to take the leftovers home with y—?”

But even before Minato could finish the question, Tsumugi leaned over toward him and cut him short.

“I’d love to!”

Everyone ate whatever they wanted as they chatted.

Finished with his cold soba inari, Minato felt like eating something warm.

“We should do a barbeque next time,” he said.

“Barb-ekew…?”

Tsumugi cocked her head in confusion, so Utsugi elaborated.

“You grill vegetables and meat over coals and eat them.”

“Oh, okay. Then, shall I bring some fruit for dessert?”

The color drained instantly from Minato’s face. “Oh, no, thanks, but we’re fine on fruit…”

His nerves couldn’t handle it if, like last time, she brought a golden peach—the fruit that granted immortality.

“In that case—”

Tsumugi raised a paw. Sharp claws shone alongside her sharp gaze, and behind her, the flames of war rose high.

Suddenly, her tail shook, and there were seven of them.

“Leave the meat to me!”

Tsumugi—who was easily over a thousand years old and ran errands for fun—sounded full of conviction.

Thank you to everyone who worked so hard on Volume 3!