"Morning, Shouko." New ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄhapters are published on N0velFire.ɴet
While changing his shoes, Akira greeted her as she peeked out from the living room, then headed straight to the bathroom.
When he came out, only his father, Miyamura Daiki, remained at the dining table, calmly reading the newspaper.
"Dad, where's Mom and Shouko?"
"Your mother went grocery shopping. She took Shouko with her."
The rustling of paper punctuated his father's words.
"Oh." Akira nodded, pulled out a chair, and began eating.
For a while, the room was filled only with quiet chewing and the crisp turning of pages. Then, just as Akira was finishing, his father set the newspaper down, voice steady:
"Akira, you've grown up now. There are things you should understand."
Akira froze mid-bite, wary. To lighten the mood, he quipped, "You're not about to tell me our family has guarded some ancient king's tomb for generations, right? Or that we signed a contract with a demon?"
"Watch less of that junk," Daiki said dryly, face unmoved.
"Mom likes those dramas," Akira muttered under his breath.
His father ignored that, poured a glass of warm milk, and slid it across the table. "I'm serious. Don't joke your way out of this."
And so began an awkward thirty minutes of "the talk." His father spoke earnestly about changes boys go through as they grow.
Akira sat in silence. He already knew all this—he'd even lived through it once before—yet he understood his father's concern. Out of respect, he listened, nodding when prompted.
The front door opened just as his father wrapped up.
"That's all for now. If you've got questions, come to me."
"Okay, okay," Akira agreed quickly, eager to escape.
"Also," Daiki added as Akira stood.
"You were the slowest to eat today. The dishes—"
"I know. Bathroom first, then I'll clean up," Akira interrupted, already fleeing.
When he returned, the table was spotless. Shouko was at the sink, sleeves rolled up, quietly washing dishes.
He rushed over to stop her, but she simply smiled and asked him to leave the kitchen.
Mist clung to the shrine's ancient pillars like gauze. The air carried the mingled scents of aged cedar, sandalwood, and damp stone. Light filtered through the canopy in broken patches, gilding the eaves of the weathered hall.
The shimenawa ropes swayed gently, copper bells chiming faintly as mountain water murmured nearby. A startled crow rose into the drifting incense smoke.
"We're finally here. Feels like forever since last time," Shouko said, gazing out at the mountainside.
"Almost a year, huh?" Akira pulled a tissue from his pocket and dabbed at her forehead.
A clear voice cut across the quiet. "Are you two here to pray for blessings, or to fulfill a vow?"
It was the same shrine maiden who had once sold them omamori. But this time, she looked entirely different.
She wore a crisp white kosode with subtle chrysanthemum embroidery, layered beneath a white outer robe patterned with flowing water and clouds. Scarlet hakama pooled in neat pleats, tied with a sash.
The traditional attire, framed by the old shrine, lent her an almost ethereal air—though somewhat ruined by the broom in her hands.
Akira blinked, recognizing it belatedly as formal miko robes.
Just then, a bell rang, shivering dew from ivy-clad branches.
"You're not wearing that because the real miko isn't here, right?" he asked suspiciously.
The maiden glanced at Shouko's hearing aid and remembered them immediately. They'd been her first "private" customers.
She smiled and spun lightly. "Well? Does it suit me?"
"It looks good," Shouko admitted, stepping closer with open admiration. Normally, shrines were only to be admired from a respectful distance. Today was different.
Akira followed her, then frowned. "But why are you sweeping the floors if you're a shrine maiden?"
The girl twirled the broom casually. "What time do you think it is? Besides, didn't you see the notice at the bottom? This shrine closes to visitors every Saturday."
"That's a thing?" Akira asked, baffled.
"It's a rule I set," she replied flatly.
"Anyway, want me to show you around the worship hall?" She handed the broom straight into Akira's hands with a grin.
Shouko quickly took it from him, hesitant. "Isn't it rude to trouble you? You were still cleaning…"
"No problem," the maiden waved it off. "I'll guide you, then you can help me sweep. Good deal, right?"
From her perspective, it was fair—she got a break, they got a private tour.
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