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   The cold is unforgiving, biting at his skin like a starving stray dog, relentless in its hunger. Snowflakes are gathering on the slope of Kazuha’s eyelashes.

   The sun had long slipped beneath the cover of the night sky. The moon too hid from the world behind grey clouds. Kazuha’s only source of light was an energetic little fire demon which danced and flickered in his worn lantern. Reflecting on the snow, it revealed very little of their surroundings.

   This had not been the plan. Kazuha hoped to reach his destination before the worst of the snowstorm, answering a plea from a remote village. “A demon! In such a place, no less…These days, people really are capable of conjuring up anything and everything no matter where they live.” These were the exasperated words of a senior shrine maiden.

   Kazuha was unsurprised. “Kano, I’ll take the request if nobody else is willing.”

   The maiden pursed her lips. “Are you certain?” She asked. “It is almost time for the ghostly procession, travelling across the Ten Peaks under such conditions would be dangerous.” Her hands smoothed out the requesting letter gently, folding it up so it could be tucked away between the hunter’s robes.

   The ghostly procession – otherwise known as the Seventh Day – is a time for lingering souls, ghosts, and demons to enter through the gates of the underworld into a world they belong in. For others, it is a time to leave it. Kazuha had been careful to avoid journeying at this time of the year, as did many other experienced demon hunters.

   Supposedly, one of the largest entrances to the underworld was located underneath the Ten Peaks. This was a patch of forested land between Mt. Yougou and Tenshukaku. To reach his destination, he could avoid the land and cut straight across the countryside; Kazuha, however, needed a new batch of talismans and a new lantern for his demon so he could not use the shortcut.

   “I will make it before then.” Truthfully, even with his speed, he would be cutting it close. “I can wait the night out in Mt. Yougou, if necessary, but I want to leave before that snowstorm lands.”

   Kano signed in resignation. “You know best,” then she gave him a kind smile, “Careful travels, Kaedehara.”

   He had nodded, striding outside of Tenshukaku briskly. Gazing up at the sky revealed the ashen clouds that had gathered above the city while he was inside. The wind was gentle still, playing with his hair.

   In his experience, crossing the Ten Peaks was a relatively quick and easy journey. A few decades ago, it was frequented by demon hunters who, to make their journey easier, constructed several paths and cast protective charms over them. Even now, hunters and merchants alike make use of these roads.

   If Kazuha had been a little less kind, he may have reached Mt. Yougou before sundown. Unfortunately, he had been stalled by desperate merchants. They clapped their hands together in prayer before him, “Demon hunter, we beg for your assistance!”

   Next time, I’ll pretend to be both deaf and blind, Kazuha mourned his lost time. They had only wanted some help with moving their merchandise but soon their grateful words turned into unfriendly commands.

   That’s not where the crates go! One would bellow. Two moments later, the bald jewellery dealer would scramble up to Kazuha – go slowly, you’ll break everything like that!!

   With about half of the work done Kazuha had a moment’s realisation – the ghostly procession was tonight, and he had wasted the day away!

   At present, Kazuha was no better than a fish on dry land. The wind was merciless, pushing him back and forth without pause. The darkness was unpleasant and snowfall heavy – even if he could see further than a hand in front of himself, the paths were long hidden by nature. He could only follow his instinct.

   The sudden change in the weather took him entirely off-guard. Kazuha prided himself on being well tuned in with nature, often predicting storms as far as days before they reared their heads. Perhaps it was the opening of the gates to the underworld altering the course of the weather, though Kazuha hoped there was still some time before night truly fell.

   Kazuha heard them suddenly. There was a distant echo of jingling bells swaying in the wind. He stopped moving abruptly to listen. The flame in his lantern shivered.

   Kazuha gripped the handle, holding it steadily. His other hand pressed the fur-lined cloak to his chest, preventing the worst of the wind and cold. Then again, the soft jingle of bells in the wind carried through the forest. He could not hold back the sigh of relief that escaped him.

   He trudged through the snow, following the sound to the best of his abilities. Kazuha remembered faintly that were two abandoned shrines in the forest. In these shrines, villagers used to hang wind chimes and bells to prevent both people and wandering souls from getting lost. Kazuha thanked his lucky stars.

   Sure enough, just a little way out there was the silhouette of an abandoned shrine. It had been long left to the tides of time, the beauty it once held washed away to distant shores. The wooden beams were rotting and there were signs of a great fire imprinted on the wooden walls.

   Perhaps most noticeable of all – the soft light of a fire glowing inside, peeking through the cracks, and lighting up the area. Kazuha had frozen by the steps, unwilling to leave but hesitant to enter for a moment.

   The fire demon in his lantern jumped wildly, threatening to disperse if Kazuha let them stand outside for a second longer. He breathed in the cold winter air, the nerves dissipating as soon as they had appeared.

   Kazuha walked up to the entrance and, clearing his throat, called out. “Hello? I’m sorry to bother you so late at night, I have no-” He trailed off as the door creaked open.

   There was a handsome youth standing inside, dressed in rich garments, and illuminated by warm light. There was a lazy smile on his face, matching his calm demeanour. Kazuha felt the hair on his neck rise, heart stuttering. The youth broke the silence, “You have no what?”

   “…Offerings.” Kazuha regained his senses, scolding himself for tripping over his words at the sight of another person. Perhaps he hadn’t really expected to see someone else seeking shelter in the shrine, or the speed at which they would open the doors. “The storm caught me off guard, I just need a place to stay until it passes. Please.”

   The youth stepped aside. “The person to who this shrine was dedicated is long gone, you don’t need to make any offerings here.”

   Kazuha shot him a grateful smile. “I saw the lights inside and thought it may still have a caretaker. It would have been rude of me not to offer.”

   “You’re right, you’re right.” The youth had a bright laugh, seemingly a little amused by Kazuha’s explanation.

   The shrine was surprisingly warm. Kazuha shrugged off the snow that had piled on his shoulders and heads; he quickly realised he should have done that before entering.

   “That’s a well-crafted sword, you’re a demon hunter?” The youth leaned against the wall; arms crossed. He was undisturbed by the raging blizzard outside, judging by his fairly light clothing.

   The black silk draped across his form loosely, not quite touching the floor. Kazuha noticed the perfectly sewn embroidery on his flowing sleeves and the deep-red detail his clothing was decorated with around the neckline and waist.

   He had fair features, Kazuha decided, and the face of a noble. He stopped himself from staring too obviously and nodded, “Yeah. Kaedehara Kazuha of Tenshukaku.”

   There was a flicker of something in those indigo eyes, but Kazuha chalked it up as a trick of the light. “Kaedehara, poetic name. You can call me Scara, no need for formalities.”

   “Call me Kazuha, then.”

   The name the youth had given him was unfamiliar. Then again, there were as many noble houses and lords in Inazuma as there were ants. They were constantly growing into power and falling out of it, at each other’s throats day and night.

   Well, Kazuha didn’t feel like it was necessary for him to dissect Scara’s family tree anyway. He seemed amicable, there was no need to distrust him.

   “I thought demon hunters avoided the Ten Peaks during the Seventh Day. You must be going somewhere really important.” No, I actually completely lost track of time and even managed to forget about the ghostly procession, Kazuha cringed inwardly.

   “Ah, no, no, just a regular hunt… The storm set me back a little more than I thought it would that’s all.” The fire inside Kazuha’s lantern was still flickering violently so he raised it up with both hands to scrutinise it. “Seriously? We’re inside now, why are you still jumping around like that?”

   The youth lifted his eyebrows. “What’s with the funny fire?”

   He approached Kazuha, leaning down a little to watch the flame with a curious smile on his face. It was a bright thing, warm and energetic. “A fire demon. It was nestled in the fireplace of a villager, he really wanted it exorcised but…”

   “But you put it inside a lantern and called it a day instead?” Scara laughed, eyes shining with endless amusement. “I bet the villager was overjoyed.”

   Kazuha bit his cheek. “He thought it was exorcised. I solved the problem; he doesn’t need to know the details.”

   The youth kept laughing, and the sound made the tips of Kazuha’s ears turn red. The little fire demon stopped jumping around, Kazuha thought that even it was taken aback by the peals of laughter.

   “What a lucky demon, rescued by a demon hunter.”

   “It’s slaving away as my personal lamp, nothing lucky about it.”

   “It has a pretty master to slave for, I’m sure it doesn’t mind,” Scara leaned in close to the fire, “Right?” The flame leaned back from his face, crackling loudly as if in rage. This person was quite good at making himself laugh, Kazuha thought.

   “Stop bullying my fire.” Kazuha brought the lantern away from Scara’s face, placing it with a thump on the offering table. The candles here were lit, steadily burning away.

   Above the table, there was an empty spot on the wall where the painting of a god should have been. There was no need to guess who the shrine belonged to, the now gone goddess of thunder, transience, and eternity – Raiden Makoto.

   Almost five hundred years had passed since the demon realm had spilt over into the human realm.

   Monstrous creatures and savage demons ravaged the land, and Inazuma was quickly falling into a disaster it would never climb out of. But the gentle queen called to all the demon hunters in the land, uniting them as one under her leadership.

   Noticed by the gods, she soon ascended and continued to rule over Inazuma from her palace in the clouds. She was worshipped for many years, but now they stood in her abandoned shrine. Others replaced her, and she faded away like the burning embers of a once glorious fire.

   Instead of a painting, there were a few lines of words etched into the stone. It was written in ancient Inazuman and try as he might, Kazuha struggled to translate the meaning.

   Behind him came the confident voice of the youth, “The force that drives humans to constantly generate new ambitions…it is something innate, rooted in instinct – in other words, it is something eternal.”

   Kazuha felt his jaw drop a little, “You can read ancient Inazuman?” He was pleasantly surprised, and continued, “that’s extremely rare, how do you know it?”

   Scara’s smile was charming, and he shared happily, “I know many things. I have a lot of spare time on my hands.” Kazuha thought he had run into quite the character. “I could tell you most anything.”

   In the warm glow of the candles, the youth seemed endlessly at ease. He had lifted his left hand to his chin like he was in thought, keeping his right arm comfortably crossed across his chest.

   A black glove snuggly decorated that hand, leaving all but his middle finger uncovered. Golden details ran down from the middle finger, shaping into a triangle that cut off at his wrist. The fabric-covered half of his forearm.

   For the second time that night, Kazuha acknowledged two things. First, the clothes this person wore were beautifully made, and elegant. The second, this person was extremely underdressed for winter.

   “Can I ask questions about you?” Kazuha asked.

   Scara shrugged, and as he did the earring dangling from his left ear swayed. It was in the shape of a king chess piece. “Whatever you want to know, I’ll tell you.”

   “Where are you travelling to?”

   “Nowhere in particular, I’m a wandering vagrant.”

   “…You’re well-dressed for a vagrant.”

   Scara huffed playfully, “Is being a vagrant synonymous with not dressing well?”

   “I guess not.” Kazuha responded, “then, what do you do?”

   “Hm.” Long fingers tapped at his chin, “I pick up the odd job here and there. Lately, I’ve been acting as a translator for a few merchants. Right now?” He grinned, “I’m out of a job!”

   Seriously! Kazuha felt like he was being played with. A vagrant with the schooling of a wealthy noble, wearing some of the finest clothing Kazuha has seen this year alone, acting like a run of the mill traveller. Kazuha felt his expression shift to disbelief, then exasperation. The youth laughed.

   Tap, tap, tap – three gentle raps sounded against the shrine door. “Another guest? What a popular shrine.”

   Kazuha stepped in front of Scara, lifting his hand across his chest so he wouldn’t careless open the door. “Not a guest we want to invite.”

   The presence of a demonic entity at the door was unmistakable – weak as it was. As Kazuha walked to the door he scanned the inside of the shrine for any weak points, then pulled a protection talisman from his sleeve pocket, pinning it to the door. The being outside would never open the door.

   “O-Ho! How scary!” Scara exclaimed, “you’ll protect me, right?”

   He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, somehow getting the impression that this youth was not afraid in the slightest. “I’ll protect you.”

   The shrine was centuries old and yet it put up an admirable fight to remain standing. It was almost impressive how well guarded it was. “Say, how old are you anyway?”

   Scara replied, “Twenty-three. Yourself?”

   “Twenty-one…really, I thought I was your senior.” Kazuha scratched his cheek. His face matches his age at least, he really did look like a handsome young noble with a carefree personality.

   “And you, you’re quite young for a demon hunter.”

   “I suppose, but nobody really minds that.” Kazuha came to sit down by the offering table, and Scara swiftly followed him down. “The only ones who find a problem with it are older lords and ladies, they usually demand a master come to do their bidding.”

   Kazuha has had his fair share of disappointed glances and complaints. Often, they followed the same tune, “This must be a joke. I asked for a professional demon-hunter, not a child.” In the end, they would either thank him under their breath or scoff and leave wordlessly after payment.

   It was far worse in East Inazuma where the tarnished reputation of the Kaedehara Clan followed him like a curse. He avoids it when he can and ignores it when he can’t. He is not responsible for his ancestor’s mistakes, he reminds himself.

   “Better you than a master.”

   Kazuha raised an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

   Scara turned his head to look directly at him. Smiling, he explained, “Those old guys are always so arrogant. They don’t speak or even do the hard work. Usually, their disciples are the ones scrambling to finish the request. Then afterwards they take all the credit for themselves.”

   “Because of my great teaching…” Scara mocked, and they both chuckled. “And so on. So, better a pretty demon hunter than a stuffy old master.”

   Kazuha cursed his face for turning red. “You’re ridiculous.”

   The young man laughed, pleased by the reaction.

   Kazuha glanced up at the door. He found it increasingly difficult to ignore the strange circumstances. Apart from a single, low-level demon, there had been no other curious spirits investigating the shrine. Initially, having realised it was the Seventh Day, he thought he’d have to stay up all night on high alert; replacing talismans as they burned out to protect both himself and Scara.

   But the night was uneventful so far. Kazuha looked at the man beside him, if he was a demon then he must be quite strong. The talisman on the door works for turning away demons both inside and outside the shrine, but he was still here, lazing around.

   “If you want, you can go to sleep. I’ll stay awake.”

   The young man asked, “Am I not good company?”

   “You’re…” Kazuha picked up on the teasing tone of the question belatedly, “stop fishing for compliments. I’m not entertaining you.”

   But the young man seemed entertained anyway. “Then, I’ll take you up on that offer.” He leaned back against the table, crossing his legs. “Lucky me, I have my own personal bodyguard.”

   “Careful, or I’ll start charging you for my services.”

   “Please don’t, this poor vagrant here has no money at all!”

   Scara crossed his arms behind his head to act as a makeshift pillow and seemed to have no trouble falling asleep, chest rising up and down steadily. Kazuha shifted, grabbing his lantern, and holding it over his raised knees.

   He glanced at Scara, then the fire demon. The little being inside the lantern copied his actions, the flame leaning away from the sleeping man. “Stop being weird,” Kazuha whispered. The flame spat.

   He likes the idea of having made friends with the little demon, despite having trapped it inside a lantern. Travelling alone was something he did out of choice, but it was nice to have a companion. The little fire can’t talk but it’s expressive enough in its movement that most nights Kazuha can decipher what it means.

   Kazuha felt weary. He had been travelling non-stop, wasting time with those merchants in the lower city then travelling through the forest against the wind and heavy snowfall. In the end, his eyes felt heavy and there was a chill in his body.

   He swore not to look at Scara anymore. Watching him sleeping so comfortably only made Kazuha more tired. Instead, he busied himself with staring at the pine door or tapping the lantern to gain the fire demon’s attention.

   The little being crackled in anger, still leaning away from Scara. “You’re being rude,” he whispered, narrowing his eyes.

   At first, the strange overreactions felt like a warning. But the healthy red tint on Scara’s skin was so humanlike, even the flutter of his eyelashes in his sleep. There were very few demons capable of masterful and realistic disguises, and Kazuha highly doubted someone of that rank would waste their time in the human realm.

   Kazuha lowered his legs, holding the lantern in his lap. He felt a little bad, watching the flame push itself to one side of the lantern, and placed it next to his thigh, away from Scara.

   The night moved slowly at first, then Kazuha closed his eyes and opened them to the morning light.

   He felt warm and comfortable, his face resting against soft fabric. Scara had the lantern in his lap, mirroring the way Kazuha had held it earlier. The fire demon was calmly burning.

   Kazuha felt the heat crawl up his neck and onto his cheeks. He had fallen asleep and used a stranger as a pillow. I really should’ve taken my chances outside, he thought.

   Mustering up the courage and squashing down his embarrassment he pushed himself off Scara. “…Sorry, I guess I didn’t realise how tired I was,” he mumbled.

   The young man smiled at him, unphased. He tapped the lantern just as Kazuha had done last night, “Did you sleep well?”

   Kazuha nodded. Glancing at the little fire he asked, “Making friends?”

   “I don’t think your little fire pet likes me very much. We’re acquaintances at best.”

   “You’ve made it this far,” Kazuha huffed a laugh, standing up to stretch his arms. “I’m sure one day you’ll be the best of friends.” The vagrant laughed in return.

   Kazuha walked up to the door; the talisman had held out all night. The shrine was untouched. Kazuha gently opened the door, and the sight was quite beautiful.

   The expanse of pine trees dressed in white, the snow twinkling under the light of the sun – this was the type of scenic view that turned into a line of poetry. The young man who had previously been resting joined him at the door, lantern in hand. “Perfect weather for travel.”

   “You won’t be saying that once you’re trudging through all that snow. It’s cold too, don’t you have a cloak?”

   Scara looked at him contentedly. “I’m good with cold temperatures. Are you worried about me?”

   Kazuha narrowed his eyes. “No.”

   He had to pack up and continue if he wanted to make it to the village at an acceptable time. “So, what’s your plan vagrant?”

   There was a low hum in response. “I had no plan, really. I’ll figure it out as I go.”

   Kazuha looked at the young man next to him, they were almost eye-to-eye, but Scara stood a few inches taller. He was leaning against the door frame, carefully holding the fire demon by his hip. His heart burned with curiosity, so, as if possessed by the devil he blurted, “Why not come with me?”

   The sly grin he got as a response made him regret his words. “O-Ho? You want me to join you?” Kazuha felt he really should have taken his chances outside.

   “I take it back.”

   “I’ve already taken you up on the offer, you’re too late.” Scara lifted the lantern up to eye level, “Hear that? You’ll have to share with me now!” And laughed his way back inside the shrine.

   Kazuha sighed, loudly.

   There was still the diversion to Mt. Yougou to visit the Grand Narukami Shrine. He was in desperate need of some new talismans, and there was the problem of getting a new lantern for his fire demon. The current lantern was not made for carrying spirits, and frankly, was struggling with the task.

   The demon repelling talismans plastered all over the mountain would also settle his suspicions.

   After Mt. Yougou, the trip to Konda village would take a day at best. He considered Scara and hoped he was a fast walker. He was already running late by his internal clock and didn’t want to leave the village in chaos in the case of an actual demon.

   He turned back to walk inside, closing the doors. His cloak had dried through the night, and he pulled it over his shoulders. He couldn’t help but repeat himself, “Are you sure you can deal with the cold?”

   Scara picked up a bamboo hat, placing it on his head. “I’m very sure, a little cold won’t do me any harm.” The young man smiled.

   Kazuha stepped up to the offering shrine, clapping his hands together in silent prayer to thank the shrine for offering them protection. Scara raised an eyebrow, the little demon in hand. “She’s long gone you know.”

   “I know that.” Kazuha opened his eyes, eventually turning on his heel to leave. “But I’m still grateful for the shrine.”

   It was truly a strange thing, Kazuha thought. How does a shrine located directly on top of an entrance to the underworld get blatantly ignored by an influx of spirits? Kazuha, with all his experience, sensed nothing and even fell asleep.

   Though the fire demon was agitated all night, nothing came of it. And come morning, it seemed to be on better terms with Scara than before. As it was now, he didn’t want to waste his time guessing. Mt. Yougou would give him a definite answer.

   The two men left the old shrine. His new companion didn’t complain but when he occasionally turned his head to check up on him, there was a glint of frustration in his eyes as he kicked the snow out of his path. It had Kazuha discreetly hiding his laughter behind his sleeve.

   The climb up Mt. Yougou was even more challenging. Ice had glazed over the mountain, making it dangerous to climb the steep stairs. With some careful manoeuvring, the two managed it.

   Immediately, three shrine maidens greeted them. Though they seemed a little surprised by the presence of an unfamiliar face, they remained courteous. He asked for talismans, for which one of the maidens immediately left. After, he tried to explain to the best of his abilities the lantern situation.

   The question on their faces was clear: why are you keeping a demon inside a lantern like it’s a pet?

   “Oh my, what a curious little idea. Leave it up to the infamous Kaedehara to leave us all speechless.” The voice that immediately gained everyone’s attention was that of Yae Miko, the Chief Priest of the shrine.

   Kazuha turned around to face her, barely catching the peeved expression that crossed Scara’s face before politely greeting the new arrival. “Guuji Yae, do you have anything suitable in mind?”

   “Perhaps I can provide something to help out a little friend. Take your little fire demon pet and follow me inside, it should only take a moment.” Kazuha strode up to Scara and gently took a hold of the lantern.

   “Wait outside for me?”

   Kazuha felt his heart skip a beat watching the expression on his face. His smile was calm but behind his eyes was a hint of danger like he could put a sword up to someone’s neck at any given moment.

   “Gladly.”

   Kazuha looked at him one more time before following Yae Miko inside the shrine.

   “Little friend, you are full of wonderful surprises.” Kazuha did not doubt her power, but he doubted her words. Something about her tone told him she was perturbed. “Bringing demons to my shrine, how very scandalous.”

   “Guuji Yae,” Kazuha said, “my fire demon is hardly dangerous.” She chuckled, waving her hand.

   “Right you are. A lantern for your new friend then?” She picked up a lantern crafted from maple wood. It was engraved with flowers, flowing green lines representing vines that curled around the edges. “This should make a comfortable home.”

   “You are lucky to have arrived here today.” Yae Miko ran her fingers over the carvings, “these pretty things are getting quite popular. People like putting ghost lights inside, though, demons are pretty unconventional.”

   Kazuha held up his old lantern to the new, beautiful case. The fire demon danced excitedly, clearly overjoyed with the change in location. He opened the lantern at the same time Yae Miko opened hers and the little demon flung itself inside.

   “What a well-behaved thing! Those Yashiro rascals could pick up a thing or two from this little fire.” She mused, “much easier than I thought.”

   Kazuha thanked her. “I really do appreciate this.”

   “My, my, always so polite. Little friend, you seem to be expanding your company lately. Shall I expect any more new faces the next time you come to visit my shrine?”

   Kazuha laughed sheepishly, “This is just a one-time thing.”

   Yae Miko hummed like she was considering something. “That young man with you has quite the presence. Where did you meet him?”

   “Ah…that,” Kazuha gripped the new lantern, in which the fire demon was running circles. “Last night we happened to take shelter in an abandoned shrine together. He’s a vagrant, so I just invited him along, I guess?”

   There was a minute shift in her expression, but it cleared quickly, “I don’t need to tell you to be careful, I’m sure you’ve taken precautions. It is not my place to comment on your friends after all.”

   Kazuha waved her goodbye soon after, turning over her comment in his head. Both Guuji Yae and Scara seemed internally peeved at something, but how would they have come to know each other? Unless Scara was someone of extreme importance, it was unlikely that she would know him.

   When he walked outside, the sun was high in the sky. Scara was leaning over the fencing outside the shrine, gazing over Narukami island.

   “I’m back,” Kazuha announced, Scara turned around, a pleasant smile gracing his face upon seeing him.

   “Welcome back. Your shrine maiden friends gave me these,” Scara passed him some neatly folded talismans. “Told me to give them to you when you came outside.” He glanced at the lantern, there was mirth in his eyes. “Lucky demon, not only does it get saved by a pretty demon hunter it even gets a pretty little house.”

   Kazuha rolled his eyes. “Enough of that. Here,” He shoved the lantern into Scara’s chest, “you hold it.” Then he stomped down the stairs, cursing the laughter that rang behind him.

   Walking down Mt. Yougou the two continued talking. Scara was knowledgeable of most, if not all things Kazuha asked him about – the history of Inazuma, native plants, nobility, and other points of interest.

   Even as the sun began to drift to sleep, Kazuha and Scara kept talking. They picked berries from bushes to eat as they walked, Kazuha telling hunting stories to keep them entertained. Scara was an active listener, commenting on parts of a story and asking about others.

   He told him about the first demon he fought on Araumi Island – how he broke his childhood blade in that fight but also got noticed by hunters from Tenshukaku. He told him about the strongest demon he had encountered – a vicious man-beast that had raised the dead in Higi Village, and how it took him three nights to defeat it alone.

   In turn, Scara told him about his travels. He had visited many nations; Inazuma, Mondstadt, Liyue, Snezhnaya and others. He told him about ancient legends from each of the respective nations, tales of heroes and villains. Even patiently explained the difference in life in places unfamiliar to Kazuha.

   All day they spoke to each other, the little demon flickering intently like it was also participating in the conversation.

   “What about the demon kings?”

   “What about them?” Scara looked at him, indigo eyes twinkling.

   Kazuha looked up at the clouds. “Inazuma has only two demon kings, Orobashi of the Ocean and Kunikuzushi of the Land.” Kazuha glanced at Scara, “do they rule over the other nations as well?”

   Scara responded, “Not entirely. Orobashi is undoubtedly the ruler of the waters here in Inazuma, but he has no real power over foreign waters. Mostly, it’s because he has no dedicated followers overseas.”

   “Kunikuzushi is undisputedly the more influential one of the two. Whatever Orobashi doesn’t control, Kunikuzushi does, which is most of the underworld. Still, he resides in Inazuma and has his subordinates look over foreign matters.”

   Kazuha asked, “What’s the big difference? Don’t they do the same thing?”

   Scara chuckled. “In Inazuma yes, but that’s because Orobashi actually has a following here. He used to actively avoid other nations, only listening to the prayers from Watatsumi and Enkanomiya. He was quite the recluse. Still is.”

   “Kunikuzushi was quite eager to rise to the top, so he was diligent in answering the prayers of anyone, anywhere. Though, prayers made to him now are taken care of by underlings he has already established a strong presence abroad.”

   Kazuha nodded in understanding, “Kunikuzushi must’ve had a lot of motivation.”

   “Or a lot of anger.” At Kazuha’s questioning look, Scara explained, “demon kings are born from extreme emotion at their death. Orobashi was supposedly overwhelmed with guilt over failing to protect his people while he was human, reborn he paid attention to nobody else.”

   “What about Kunikuzushi?”

   “There are a lot of stories.” Scara seemed to think for a moment before continuing, “the most popular…people say it was his rage towards the gods that led him to become the demon king.”

   “I see.” Kazuha looked at him closely, his heart seemed to burn from the topic.

   The demon kings were well-known figures in the demon-hunting world. Even the general public was closely familiar with their names. Especially in Inazuma, despite being demons, both had many followers and worshippers – hundreds of temples were scattered around the land in their honour.

   Orobashi was considered a god of merchants – safe oceans meant that merchants could safely transport their valuables. Kunikuzushi, on the other hand, was simultaneously the god of luck and misfortune – those who satisfy him would be blessed by fortune, and those who angered him would be left facing a fate worse than death.

   Both were capable of sending Inazuma into chaos at the lift of a finger – all the demon-hunting clans were sent on edge even by the mention of their names. Even Yae Miko would wear a displeased expression at their mention – the very same expression she wore before Kazuha left.

   “Look,” Scara suddenly pointed ahead of them. “That’s the village, right?”

   Kazuha nodded. “For a village infested with a demon it sure does look peaceful,” Scara lifted the lantern to look at the fire demon, “what do you think? Any of your cousins inside?”

   The flame grew, spitting wildly. “Stop irritating it,” Kazuha said, receiving an innocent smile in return. “Demons are the masters of disguise and deception; one could be standing right next to you, and you wouldn’t know. It won’t be that easy.”

   The young man beside him seemed the find the situation a little comical. “Alright, I’ll follow your lead.” He glanced at the little demon, and continued teasing in a hushed tone, “no long-lost lovers in there?”

   Kazuha heard it and glared at him; the flame smacked the glass. “You stay quiet.”

   Scara seemed to have entertained himself enough to keep his mouth closed as they entered the village. The sun was fading behind the horizon, but Kazuha didn’t want to wait until morning to deal with the situation if possible.

   The village chief – Konda Densuke – was resting in his front garden, watching the snowflakes descend from the sky. There were deep wrinkles on his forehead, his eyebrows were knitted in frustration.

   At the approach of Kazuha and Scara, his eyes seemed to liven up a bit. At Kazuha’s introduction, his demeanour became hopeful. 

   Hot food and tea were served immediately by the man, who had gained a sudden burst in energy. Scara, who was there to do no work, seemed happy to reap the rewards. Kazuha let him be, also enjoying the food after travelling in the cold weather. Their fire demon was deceivingly calm, like a real fire.

   “Chief Konda, please don’t hold back any details so that I can solve your situation as soon and as safe as possible. Could you please start by telling me what’s been going on in the village?”

   The old man nodded, rubbing his wrinkled hands together. He looked nervous when he began to speak, “It started when my daughter Chihiro…” He swallowed audibly, tears gathering in his eyes. “She was found dead you see, in the village well.”

   The words were full of grief. “She was so happy. You wouldn’t believe how excited she was to finally marry Keisuke, and move to the city.” The chief gripped his cup, “but three nights before the wedding she disappeared from our home. Gods, the whole village searched up and down…It was my wife who found her two days after.”

   “We salvaged what we could, to give her a proper burial.” His voice was tight as he recalled the memory, Kazuha noted the tremor in his hands when he unclenched them from the cup. “Then, at Chihiro’s burial, my wife collapsed.”

   “Heartbreak, I thought. I felt like I would collapse as well to never wake up.” The man looked sideways, eyes shifting to a door. “She eventually woke up, but her mind is in pieces. Screaming and crying all night, then denying that she ever died and stumbling into her room to wait for her.”

   Kazuha felt pity stirring in his heart, for the village chief and his wife, and for the bride-to-be and her groom. “And now, the village is also struggling. The water is not…we can’t…” The chief struggled to continue, but Kazuha had already come to the bitter conclusion.

   Chihiro was only found two days after her disappearance. Until her mother had checked the well, the villagers must’ve been using the very same water for their daily routines. Kazuha had to stop himself from visibly shuddering.

   “I understand, village chief. There is no need to force yourself.” Kazuha knew the answer anyway. “What happened to the groom?”

   “Keisuke, he has buried himself with whatever work he can.” The chief looked thoughtful; the candles cast a harsh light on his face. The sky had already turned dark. “He is grieving privately. He paid his respects, but he hasn’t come back to her grave since her burial.”

   “His friend, Nakano, comes with fresh flowers each morning. Perhaps he sends them. Nakano and my daughter weren’t close friends.” Konda continued, “I can’t blame him. I don’t think he wants to accept it.”

   The soul of Chihiro must be devastated. Kazuha asked, “Was your daughter on bad terms with anyone in the village?”

   “God’s no,” Konda exclaimed. “She was well-loved, friendly with absolutely everyone! She had friends even in the city, and you know how those folk look at us.” Kazuha was aware that there was a generational tension between the village and city spurred by land disputes. Chihiro must have been an impressive woman.

   “Did Chihiro or Keisuke act any differently before the wedding? Did anyone?”

   “Chihiro and Keisuke were excited, but that was just them.” He looked almost fond for a brief moment. “My wife was a little stressed with the wedding so close to us, but I also felt a little anxious thinking about letting another one of my children go. I suppose it’s not quite the same.”

   “Another?”

   “Ah. Many years ago, my wife and I lost a child. Chihiro’s elder sister.”

   “I see, I’m truly sorry for your losses.” The chief nodded, thanking him. Kazuha continued, “you were certain it was a demon in your letter, can I ask if there are any other signs?”

   “What other signs?” There was a trace of anger in the chief’s voice, Scara who had previously removed himself from the conversation opened his eyes. “It killed my daughter, it’s killing my wife, it’s harming my village. Our water is contaminated, and the food reserves we saved for winter are rotting. If not a demon, then what else?”

   For Kazuha to say, “A demonic infestation is highly unlikely. I think someone in the village murdered your daughter, and her spirit can’t move on,” would be outrageous at this time, so he just nodded in understanding.

   In the first place, demonic entities are usually attached to one place so something wandering into the village to cause chaos was unlikely unless it was very powerful. Even then, demons care for a few things; lots of human life or a strong spiritual presence.

   Konda village is relatively small, there are no signs of either of these things – it is more likely, that in her rage the bride’s soul was corrupted and was the reason for the rest of the events. Besides, for a demon to manifest is an exceptional case.

   So, to call her a demon might be a stretch. Kazuha thought she may just be an angered spirit. If he could alleviate her pain by bringing her to justice she may move on peacefully.

   He looked at Scara, who had leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes again. He’d have to look for any clues he could; worst-case scenario, he would attempt to communicate with Chihiro directly and use her memories to learn the truth of the case.

   Kazuha stood up. “Chief Konda, thank you for answering my questions. Could you please point us to Chihiro’s resting place? We will investigate the village after.”

   The village chief nodded. He led them outside the gates of the village, where there was a patch of land covered with a myriad of candles. In the middle was a gravestone, ‘Konda Chihiro – loving daughter.’

   Before leaving, the chief told them that he would leave his door open and that they could rest in Chihiro’s room. Kazuha was reluctant, but he insisted she would have done the same and eventually accepted.

   Fresh winter roses lay on the snowy ground, must be Nakano, Kazuha remembered. Konda took one last look at the grave, seemingly pained by the sight. Once he left, there were just the three of them.

   The little fire demon sprang back to life. “Aren’t you good at playing pretend?” Scara teased, shaking the lantern lightly. The fire expanded like it was puffing out its chest in pride. Kazuha rolled his eyes and ignored them.

   There were a few snowflakes gently falling from the sky. Kazuha hugged his cloak around himself tighter, burying his nose in the soft fur and breathing in the warm air. Chihiro, you must be very hurt.

   There were already baseless suspicions forming in his heart. Without evidence, they were useless. “I will go take a look at the well. You two can go back and rest if you’re tired,” Kazuha said. He couldn’t sense a shred of spiritual energy at the grave, Kazuha almost wanted to say that there was nobody buried there.

   Scara smiled at him, “Even the fire demon gets a break?” Kazuha sighed in response. The past few days, Scara and the little demon had been bonding so he just left them to it. “We’ll tag along. You don’t mind, do you?”

   “I don’t mind,” Kazuha responded. He could protect the three of them.

   “Are you cold?” Scara tilted his head, his eyes flickering over Kazuha. He felt a shiver through his body, but whether it was the cold or the indigo eyes he didn’t confirm.

   “I’m not exactly warm,” Kazuha replied. “The sooner we finish looking at the well, the sooner we can go inside. Let’s go.”

   The three of them walked back inside the village, snow crunching underneath their boots. Kazuha started musing out loud, “killed just a few days before her wedding, I wonder if anyone was jealous of Keisuke and Chihiro?”

   “Hm?” Scara walked alongside him, joining in on his musing. “Someone like Keisuke’s friend?”

   “So, you were listening!” Kazuha whipped his head around to look at him, “if you’re going to do that, at least act interested in front of the chief.”

   “I’m here for you, not for the village’s demon problem.” Scara smiled, his eyes closing in contentment. “But I did listen to some parts of the story.”

   Kazuha huffed. “Whatever. The whole situation sounds strange. The happy couple, loved by the village – why kill Chihiro? Throw her in the well?” After all, there was no way that her body would remain undiscovered. Perhaps it wasn’t planned, not with care anyway.

   After a moment of silence, Scara looked up. “Here it is.” The village well was just behind Konda’s house. It was well looked after; the wooden structure was strong and the stone unchipped. Covered in snow, it looked almost new.

   Kazuha approached the well. There was a sudden weight on his body like someone had thrown themselves around his shoulders with their entire weight. He stepped closer, looking for any signs of struggle.

   Scara raised the lantern for him, but there was no sign of a fight. “She was probably already dead,” Scara concluded. “If she were alive at this time, she would’ve left marks of struggling, holding or hitting the support beams.”

   Kazuha agreed. He intended to open the cover of the well to take a look, but he had hardly moved the wooden lid before the stench of rotting flesh made his eyes water – so strong that he had half the mind to think Chihiro’s body was still in there.

   He stepped back, bumping into Scara who put a steadying hand on his arm. “Salvaged all they could, huh,” Scara recalled.

   Kazuha pressed his cloak to his nose to block out the smell and pulled away, shutting the well quickly. “I have an idea, I think.”

   “I do too. Are we going to do a class discussion?”

   “Stop that. I said I have an idea, not that I’m putting it up for debate. We still need to talk to Keisuke, and the mother of Chihiro as well if she’s willing.”

   “Isn’t her mother ill?” Scara questioned.

   Kazuha felt like the temperature had dropped very suddenly. “I know but she might be willing to talk if she knows we're here to help.”

   “Okay, okay.” Scara grinned, “let’s go to sleep and get back to work tomorrow.”

   They returned to the Konda house quietly. Scara had no problem collapsing onto the bed after kicking off his shoes and shrugging off his outer robe. He lay his bamboo hat by the side of the bed and made himself comfortable.

   Kazuha laid out his own shoes and cloak neatly, opting to keep on the rest of his clothes for more warmth. The night was chilling, and the previously gentle snow was heavier. Chihiro’s bed was small, and Kazuha had no choice but to lay back-to-back with Scara.

   The little fire demon ended up on Kazuha’s side of the bed, resting on the ground. The flame was steady like it was asleep. “Can fire demons actually sleep?”

   “They can,” Scara replied. “It’s just that they don’t need to. Demons sleep for pleasure, not necessity.”

   Kazuha thought as much. “Do you sleep?” He wanted to ask but opted for an “I see.” He held his covers tightly, finally warm, and comfortable. The mattress was stuffed with hay, but after sleeping on the hard ground it might as well have been a pile of sheep’s fur. “Goodnight, Scara.”

   “Goodnight, Kazuha.” Came the quiet reply.

   Kazuha woke up in a cold and dark room. He was still in Chihiro’s bed, but the spot where his companion previously laid was empty. He wanted to call out, “Scara?” but the words froze on the tip of his tongue.

   His body moved without his permission into a sitting position, and the heart in his chest beat anxiously. Kazuha felt that this was not his body at all, but rather Chihiro’s. His thoughts were jumbled, still dazed from the sleep he was ripped out of, but there was a sense of panic clouding his mind.

   Through Chihiro’s eyes, he could see light spilling from underneath the door, it was the faint glow of a night candle.

   Chihiro lifted the covers, sending a shiver down her body. She stood up quietly, masterfully avoiding the creaking floorboards and leaning against the door to listen. On the other side, the sound of pacing could be heard, coupled with the angry whisper of a woman, cursing and spitting.

   Kazuha was in a bind. Reliving through the memories of a spirit was almost always the last choice of any demon hunter. It was dangerous and required outside assistance. The only way to bring his soul back to his own body was with a dedicated shrine bell from the outside or a separation prayer from a shrine maiden. Kazuha had neither.

   Chihiro’s resentful energy was so strong that she had pulled him into her memories without his permission.

   This method of communication was an extreme version of empathy; Kazuha could feel, hear, see, taste and smell anything that Chihiro could. The only real thing separating them was the fact he maintained his own consciousness – he could not know what she thought.

   Focus, you’re here now, so focus. Kazuha remembered that Chihiro’s mother also lived in the house and that the voice must’ve belonged to her. Presently, she was ill, and bed bound. Kazuha hadn’t had the chance to meet her yet.

   Chihiro placed her hand on the handle. The door creaked open, and Kazuha cringed – that was way too loud!

   The pacing stopped and tense silence suffocated the house. A moment later, the woman called out, “Darling?” Kazuha wanted to slam the door shut when hurried footsteps started his way. Judging by the tremble of her hands, Chihiro felt the same.

   Her eyes were crazed. Kazuha felt the tremor in his body as she approached, speaking in a voice that was barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry.” Cold hands gripped Chihiro’s. “Your mother is very sorry, okay? Talk to me, okay?”

   He felt uncomfortable. Chihiro let the woman pull her into the kitchen to sit down, she herself kneeled in front of Chihiro’s legs, never once letting go of her hands. Kazuha realised the woman had been crying, the rims of her eyes were red.

   “I’m sorry.”

   Chihiro let out a breath she had been holding, “Mother.” This young woman was soft-spoken, Kazuha thought she sounded almost apologetic.

   “I’m sorry.” The woman placed her head on Chihiro’s knees, so her voice was nothing more than a hoarse mumble. “I don’t want to see you go. I love you too much. I can’t bear it.”

   Chihiro swallowed the lump in her throat. She responded calmly, placing her hand on her mother’s head to stroke her greying hair. “I’m not Hotaru.”

   Hotaru? Kazuha doesn’t remember anyone with that name. The village chief mentioned an elder sister, could that be Hotaru?

   His thoughts were cut off by the sharp sting of nails digging into his hands. Chihiro’s mother lifted her head suddenly, the look in her eyes was furious. “What do you know about Hotaru?! Don’t you speak her name!”

   Chihiro went numb with fear. Kazuha felt her regret, and he felt the tears that gathered in her eyes. But she was head-strong and repeated, “I’m not Hotaru. I’m Chihiro. Stop treating me like her, she’s not here anymore.”

   Chihiro’s mother was a tempest – her eyes darkened like storm clouds, and her shoulders shook with uncontained waves of fury. Chihiro could only cling on to her pride and face the thunderous words that came rushing from her mother’s mouth.

   “Who gave you the right to decide that?!” Kazuha felt his body flinch like it had been struck by lightning. “Hotaru should be here! Not you! You should’ve been in her place!”

   “Do you feel proud? You’ve taken her life, now you’re taking her future too!” She spat with venom. “I won’t let you. I won’t. I won’t.”

   Chihiro stood up, hardly using any force to push away her mother. She tugged her hands-free and clasped them together in front of herself. “I don’t want to continue like this.” She held herself together courageously, speaking patiently through her mother’s muttering. “See me off as Chihiro, and free yourself from Hotaru. She would hurt if she saw you like this.”

   But her mother was unstable, pulling herself up and stumbling. Her hand slammed into the table, “Don’t you tell me what I should be doing!” Unwilling to argue, Chihiro had turned to leave. Kazuha felt sick, but whether it was his own turmoil or Chihiro’s was unclear.

   Chihiro had hardly moved before her mother was clawing at her like a ferocious animal. He felt the blood drip where she had ripped through skin, searing heat following soon after. Chihiro’s mother slammed her into the wall, the impact on her head made Kazuha’s vision go black momentarily. The pain was almost unbearable.

   Kazuha wanted to grab at his sword for defence, but Chihiro was not him – she could only cry and push at her mother like a baby lamb cornered by a starving wolf. Spitting curses and growling like an animal, her mother hissed, “Chihiro you’ll never leave! Never as long as I live! I curse you, you misfortune devil, you’ll never leave!”

   There were claws on her throat, squeezing like they wanted to snap her neck. Chihiro couldn’t breathe. Kazuha couldn’t breathe. It hurt. The burning in Chihiro’s lungs spread like fire, her hands grew weak.

   Chihiro’s body went limp, yet amidst the curses, the hands of her own mother never stopped. Like a distant echo, in Chihiro’s final moments he could hear the broken whisper, “Hotaru? Hotaru, please wake up. Mother is sorry.”

   There was the faint motion of a hand softly carding through his hair. Breathe, breathe, breathe; Kazuha repeated in his head like a mantra.

   Kazuha felt ripples of pain running through his body. The phantom sensation of hands around his neck, the throbbing in the back of his head where it had been slammed into the wall. Was he still in Chihiro’s body? How could there possibly be anymore?

   A twinge of panic ran through his mind – Chihiro had pulled him into her memories without his consent, and now he had no plan to pull himself away.

   He forced his eyes open, momentarily dazed by the light inside the room. His hands were gripping soft fabric and he hid his face, too bright. There was light movement in front of him, then a soft voice, “You’re okay.”

   The hand in his hair never stopped moving. Recognition dawned on him slowly, he knew that voice. When he pulled his head back to open his eyes again, the light was dimmer; only enough for him to make out Scara’s face above him.

   Scara was laying on his side, one arm propped up by the elbow where he was resting his face. His other hand meticulously ran through Kazuha’s hair. “Back with me?” The serious expression melted away from his features, revealing a familiar smile.

   Kazuha went to nod, but there was a flash of pain in his skull at the movement. It reminded him of Chihiro’s mother; she was just a few doors away. The thought made him close his eyes.

   There was a fond chuckle by his ear, “She can’t come in here. You don’t need to worry.”

   He tried to regulate his breathing, ground himself and detach from Chihiro’s mind. At some point, it became difficult to differentiate between her reality and his own. But the dim light and gentle hand in his hair were quick to calm him.

   Kazuha felt bad for twisting up Scara’s expensive clothing. The silk was wet with his tears. Still, he pulled closer. It was quiet in the room, only the sound of Kazuha’s wild heartbeat. “Thank you.” He sniffled, “for waking me up.”

   “I didn’t think that girl would have the nerve to pull something like that.” Scara sounded displeased.

   The adrenaline wore off in a slow manner, draining Kazuha’s energy. “Don’t blame her.”

   “You were hurt.” Came the reply.

   “Still, don’t blame her.” Kazuha hesitated, “or yourself.” The sigh that escaped Scara confirmed his suspicion, so he continued to speak. “I already suspected Chihiro’s mother, but she didn’t know that. She died only recently; her spirit is still strong. She just wanted someone to know the truth.”

   “There were other ways for her to communicate.”

   “By speaking to you instead?” Kazuha teased. “I don’t mean to offend you, your highness, but I think you’re a little too intimidating for that.”

   Scara, or rather, Kunikuzushi, laughed. “You don’t seem too intimidated.”

   “I’m a little beyond that, right now.”

   Over Kunikuzushi’s shoulder, there was a lone window. It was still dark outside, snow drifting with the wind in a gentle waltz. “I wasn’t there for too long.”

   “Only a couple of minutes.” Replied Kunikuzushi.

   Kazuha’s throat was dry. His head hurt from the emotional whirlwind. Still, he was reluctant to sleep, favouring the idea of talking to Kunikuzushi instead. He went to call him Scara, but now that his identity was confirmed, should he use his real name?

   He licked his lips, “Kunikuzushi?”

   “What is it?”

   “Can I call you that?”

   Kunikuzushi let out an amused laugh. “Call me whatever you want. Although,” He paused in consideration, “perhaps not in front of other people. Do it in private, your reputation may suffer otherwise.”

   His heart skipped a beat. The idea of calling him by his real name only in private seemed a little intimate. “Guuji Yae recognised you.” He scooted away to learn the expression Kunikuzushi wore.

   He rolled his eyes at the mention of the name. “It’s not like I actively disguised myself.” There was a sudden glint in his eyes, “I wonder what she was thinking, seeing me turn up in her precious shrine.”

   Kazuha thought Yae Miko did a good job hiding her anger behind a slightly peeved expression. She must have been boiling over with rage. Kunikuzushi had caused many problems in Inazuma after all – going as far as to quarrel with the goddess of eternity, turning clans against each other for his own ends.

   And who else, if not Yae Miko, would be sent to deal with the demon king?  Eventually, he seemed to accomplish whatever he wanted and disappeared. “What are you doing in the human realm anyway?”

   Kunikuzushi looked at him with half-lidded eyes. “I was looking for something. Someone, actually.” His gaze fell behind Kazuha, where the fire demon had been silently burning. “Kaaru.”

   The fire demon suddenly burst to life, the room turning bright. Kazuha clamped his eyes shut, burrowing his face in Kunikuzushi’s chest. “Are you trying to blind us, you idiot? I didn’t ask for you to turn into a beacon,” Kunikuzushi scolded.

   “…Kaaru, you said.” He was relieved to see the light had dimmed once more. “Wait.” Kazuha pushed himself off, sitting up. “It’s yours?!”

   Kunikuzushi smiled up at him. “I was quite surprised to learn that it was saved by a demon hunter from Tenshukaku. I let it be. Kaaru seemed happy in your company.”

   Kazuha wanted to slap himself. He blinked a couple of times. “…I” Leave it up to me to accidentally steal the demon king’s personal pet! Kunikuzushi was unbothered, laughing like he’d heard a funny joke.

   “Don’t get so flustered, I said I let it be, didn’t I?” Kunikuzushi leaned over him, brushing against his shoulder. He picked up the lantern, shaking it gently. “Don’t start shining like you did before or I’ll extinguish you.”

   Kazuha grabbed the lantern, “Don’t say that!” He looked at the fire demon inside, Kaaru. He hadn’t thought to give it a name in all their time together and felt a little sorry. “He’s not going to extinguish you, Kaaru.”

   The flame leaned towards Kazuha, crackling like it was mocking Kunikuzushi. The demon king leaned back on his hands, watching them both.

   “Huh.” Kunikuzushi scoffed. “Aren’t you lucky Kaaru, getting the protection of a pretty demon hunter all for yourself?”

   The flame inside leapt around circles. Kazuha held it in his lap and watched fondly. “Is Chihiro still here?”

   Kunikuzushi glared at the corner of the room. “Unfortunately.”

   “Stop that.” Kunikuzushi dropped his glare, but he wasn’t sorry at all. “You can hear her right? Ask her what she needs from me to move on.”

   Kunikuzushi sighed but complied, speaking in a foreign tongue. He raised an eyebrow and then narrowed his eyes. Kazuha watched his expression carefully, tracing his jaw and cheekbones. Kunikuzushi looked directly at him, and for a second, he looked pleased. Kazuha looked away.

   “Every time I come up here, I get reminded why I shouldn’t. Kazuha, let’s go get some dango instead.”

   “We’ll get dango next time. What did she say?”

   Kunikuzushi’s eyes lit up. “I’ll hold you to that.”

   He translated what Chihiro wanted. If her father would send off Hotaru with a proper burial, Chihiro would be satisfied. She herself only wanted to see her lover one last time before she descended into the ghost realm.

   “Hotaru never received a burial…Did you see her soul?”

   Kunikuzushi shook his head. “Chihiro says her body is in the well.”

   “Then…we must be missing something. Chihiro’s body was discovered because it was decomposing in the water, Hotaru has been dead for much longer. How did no one notice?” Kazuha brought a hand up to his chin, unconsciously biting his lower lip.

   Chihiro received a burial, her soul was free to roam and yet she stuck around until someone fulfilled her wish. No wonder Kazuha couldn’t feel her presence at the grave, her spirit really was free.

   When her mother threw her into the well, she must have come across Hotaru’s soul. “Could there be something below the well?”

   “Chihiro says there’s a locked entrance somewhere in the village that she and Hotaru discovered as children. It requires a key.”

   “Who has the key?”

   “Chihiro’s mother,” Kunikuzushi replied. Upon hearing the reply Kazuha tensed up, phantom hands on his neck. Kunikuzushi leaned in, “I’ll get the key. You find the entrance.” He opened the lantern, and the fire demon flew outside.

   Kunikuzushi raised his palm, and Kaaru floated just above it. “You follow Chihiro and show him the way. God’s help you if something goes wrong.”

   Kaaru quickly hid behind Kazuha’s head, shaking as much as a fire could. “Could you please stop threatening Kaaru, Kunikuzushi?”

   “Where is the fun in that?” He smiled, quietly standing up from the bed. He picked up the bamboo hat, looking at them again. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

   “Okay. Be careful.” Kunikuzushi nodded. Kazuha thought it was probably silly, telling a demon king to be careful. Kaaru floated in front of him. “Let me dress, and then we can go find that entrance.”

   He put on his shoes and threw the fur cloak around his shoulders. There was a chill in the air, and when they silently stepped outside, he felt like he had been submerged in an ice lake. Kaaru shone in front of him, darting around as he adjusted to the temperature.

   When Kazuha gave the fire demon a smile it swooped and rose in a circle before leading him east. It was dark with Kaaru glowing dimly to remain inconspicuous. The snow was still falling rapidly, crowning Kazuha’s head.

   Kazuha began to wonder if the pressure he first felt at the well was actually the presence of Hotaru. Chihiro was a free spirit; she had received the proper burial and only remained out of her own free will. Kazuha didn’t think she was the reason for the village’s misfortune.

   It was the growing resentment of her older sister, Hotaru, finally overspilling. It was likely too, that it was Hotaru’s resentment that allowed Chihiro to share her last memories.

   Kazuha was always quick to answer a plea concerning spirits or demons. After death, a person should be encouraged to move on. This way they can one day re-enter the circle of reincarnation and be reborn once again. Most move on by themselves, others wait until their final wishes are fulfilled.

   If a spirit is left in the human realm for too long, it will eventually begin to forget. The face of their mother, the voice of their firstborn, their favourite dish, most beloved place – until one day they no longer know their name. Angered and alone they can manifest into malicious spirits, committing so many sins they can never hope to reincarnate. Kazuha tries to prevent this when he can.

   But there is a worry simmering in his heart. Hotaru has been dead for years, trapped in solitude. Like the flower that can never catch a ray of sunshine, her soul has wilted and drooped. But there was still hope that she could be freed from the chains that held her in this village.

   The sudden illness of their mother, the rotting crops – they only began after Chihiro died. Perhaps when Chihiro saw the soul of her elder sister, Hotaru saw hers as well. Perhaps she could not accept her sister facing the same fate and it roused her into action.

   Kaaru had led them to a run-down house. The roof had long collapsed, and the building was filled with snow. “Chihiro, if you’re still here…” Kazuha looked around, noticing how the air condensed in front of him like smoke, “show Kaaru where you remember the entrance to be.”

   Kaaru started moving, following the soul of Chihiro. Kazuha followed as well. There were broken tiles below the spot where Kaaru had stopped, Kazuha crouched down to push them to the side. The sound of tiles clashing was loud in the night. Kazuha paused, waiting to see if it alerted anyone in the area. There was only the sound of his breathing and the gentle crackle of a fire.

   Kazuha dug through the snow, hands red and aching from the cold. A sudden idea came to mind, he glanced up at the fire demon. “Hey Kaaru, lend me a hand?”

   Kaaru was elated, spinning in circles like an excited dog jumping for a treat. Kazuha grinned, laughing a little as the fire demon lowered itself to the ground. The flames expanded; Kazuha could feel the warmth radiating from the fire.

   The snow melted, revealing a wooden latch. “Look at that, you’re amazing Kaaru!” If at all possible, the fire became a couple of shades redder. It circled around Kazuha rapidly, warming him up in the process.

   Kazuha put his hand over the latch, noticing the lock below it. He tried pulling on it, but it was tightly locked. “Didn’t Chihiro tell you it requires a key?” A voice came from behind him.

   Kazuha whipped his head around, unable to stop the smile from forming on his face. “You’re here!”

   “I’ve been here for a while.” Kunikuzushi approached them and said, “here, the key.”

   Kazuha took the metal key from Kunikuzushi’s pale hands, immediately moving to put it inside the lock. There was a clear click. Before he could open the latch, he paused, “I don’t know if Hotaru will have any ill intent towards us. Chihiro shouldn’t follow, and you don’t have to either. You’ve already helped me a lot.”

   Kunikuzushi crouched down next to him. “I think I’ll follow you down anyway. You’ll protect me, right?” He smiled.

   Kazuha chuckled, “Sure, I’ll protect you.”

   Kaaru was between them in seconds, but Kunikuzushi caught the flame between his hands. “Don’t interrupt the moment, you imbecile.”

   Kazuha rolled his eyes good-heartedly. There was something soft within the eyes of the demon king, he spoke in jest, but his words were sincere. Who is protecting who, exactly? Thought Kazuha.

   “Let’s go.”

   Kazuha tugged on the wooden trapdoor – the hinges creaked in high pitch, unoiled. Kaaru lit up the way for them, descending into endless darkness. There was an old ladder to carry them down, Kazuha turned to climb down first.

   The scent of dirt after it has been washed by rain was strong, the space between himself and the surrounding walls narrow. He could not hold his arm straight behind, or to the side of himself. The wood groaned underneath his feet, he worried it would snap.

   The tunnel down was suffocating. Despite the winter cold, there was sweat gathering on the back of Kazuha’s neck, making him twist in discomfort.

   Drip, drip, drip. The sound of water colliding against a puddle was steadily growing louder and eventually, Kazuha felt his foot touch solid ground. He let go of the ladder, turning around to face the narrow tunnel ahead. There was an echo, meaning just ahead there was an open space.

   He could see the soft glow of Kaaru’s flames in the distance and followed the light. He kept his left hand on the wall, mapping the tunnel in his head. There were sure footsteps behind him.

   The dripping was soon accompanied by the rush of water, Kazuha stepped inside an open room. It was dimly lit by Kaaru, who looked as if it was waiting for him to appear. The room was bare, with unmade stone walls and wild vines hanging off the ceiling. The only signs of human activity were the scattered wooden boards.

   Where Kaaru floated, there were the remnants of a doorway. As the two approached, he could see the downpour of water and the rushing stream running downwards. There were rotting support beams, but no visible path.

   Kazuha stepped into the water, shivering upon contact. He held his hands to the left side of the tunnel still, carefully walking forward to avoid slipping in the dark. He wished for the tunnel to come to an end if only to end Hotaru’s torment quicker.

   He inhaled harshly when there was suddenly no ground beneath his next step, almost falling down the drop. Strong hands pulled him back, “Be careful.”

   Kazuha nodded. Kunikuzushi held him with an arm around his waist, calling out, “He can’t see in the dark Kaaru, come back here.” The flame returned blindingly fast, the space around them suddenly erupting into a light so bright that Kazuha had to squeeze his eyes shut. “Not that bright, you fool!”

   Kazuha found something amusing in the way Kunikuzushi managed to find a new insult for Kaaru for each occasion, laughing a little. “It’s fine, it’s okay,” he patted Kunikuzushi’s hand, “Thanks.”

   Kunikuzushi sighed, “Don’t go falling again.”

   “Mn. I won’t. Let’s keep going.”

   Traversing down the tunnel – which was now lit up sufficiently by Kaaru – Kazuha looked for any signs of Hotaru’s soul, but it was just the three of them for the time being. Still, there was a certain kind of confidence blossoming in his heart now that he had Kaaru and Kunikuzushi beside him.

   They descended slowly, carefully avoiding any steep drops or jutting rocks waiting to trip them up. Kazuha could afford to set his mind on Kunikuzushi for a brief moment.

   The demon king certainly had a chilling reputation. However, he was greatly respected by many Inazumans. To some, this was a matter of fearing retribution for offending such a man, but for others, it was a matter of success.

   Years ago, Kunikuzushi was worshipped and hailed by the warrior clans that arose in the Civil War. All sorts of horrifying tales took place, going as far as whispers of human sacrifice to gain support from the demon king. However, according to the Tenshukaku records, Kunikuzushi never answered such calls, not publicly at least.

   Mostly, he indulged in the livelier politics of Inazuma City. Those with enough gold to last them a hundred lifetimes bartered their riches (if not their lives) for a taste of power. Yet, their stroke of luck never lasted long, and great misfortune would eventually haunt those who roll the dice.

   The young man beside him was a contrast to the cautionary tales so popular in Inazuma. Kazuha thought, he actually seems to be a nice person. He scolded himself but could not lie. In fact, the longer he pondered the more he realised that Kunikuzushi did not go out of his way to harm the common folk.

   Kazuha has a faint memory of his grandfather, already taken up by the years and long past his days of glory. As a young boy he was a valiant demon hunter, in his prime he was an incredible soldier and skilled swordsmith. When his hair turned grey, he put down the sword and distanced himself from the spiritual world.

   He made for a wonderful storyteller. His words spun tales like threads of yarn fitting together to make a warm scarf; they always left a thrill in Kazuha’s young heart and kept him snug by the fire long into the night.

   It was mid-winter and the snow trapped them like prisoners between wooden walls. Kazuha rather enjoyed winter when he was a boy – it was a time he spent dawdling away with his mother in her pine cottage. Come rising sun his feet would pound away on the snowy floor as he explored the vast woods with the hunting dogs; come night he would sit in his grandfather’s lap with sparkling eyes.

   His grandfather was a man of defined morals, certainly self-assured and confident. One night, when Kazuha was a boy of eight, his grandfather gazed into the flames of the fireplace and said, “Kazuha, do you want to follow the footsteps of your father?”

   Kazuha bit into his cheek, “I want to follow in your footsteps, not father.”

   His grandfather was full of warm laughter, the contagious kind that would never fail to bring a smile to everyone in the room. “A swordsmith?” Kazuha shook his head, and his grandfather brushed the bangs that fell over his eyes, “ah, young demon hunter Kazuha.”

   “Yes!” Kazuha bounced off his grandfather’s knee and imagined a dashing sword between his hands as he swung through the empty air, “I’ll be the strongest hunter in Inazuma!”

   “Not with that horrendous grip, surely?” His grandfather laughed, earning a smack on his knee. “Kazuha,” he smiled fondly, “what do you think being the strongest demon hunter entails?”

   “Killing a lot of demons.”

   “That’s a rather savage way of thinking, young man.”

   His grandfather placed his hand over Kazuha’s head, brushing back his hair lightly. “A starving dog might attack you in desperation to survive, but that does not necessarily make it evil. On another day, it might have been a trusted companion and a dear friend.”

   “I don’t get it,” Kazuha said when he was a young boy. But as the years flew by, he spent many nights thinking about his grandfather in solitude. I might understand, he thought, the first time he came across a demon crying as it tore the flesh of a baby lamb.

   Kazuha learned all the ways of exorcisms, gruelling as it was so that they had a chance to live on. Killing demons soon become his last option, each time he would disperse their pained souls he would think of his grandfather. Would he have done the same? Or was there an outcome I failed to find?

   He was hopeful for Hotaru and Chihiro – that felt like his duty. Hotaru still found a piece in herself that burst aflame for somebody else and that meant she could still cross to the afterlife with her sister. If only Kazuha could convince her father of the truth and let them go with the wind.

   Kaaru enveloped a room with golden light. It was impressive, with tall ceilings arching to meet the heavens. The walls were stacked with rows of bookshelves still brimming with books unread. A dark maroon rug lay in the centre of the floor, and a desk carved from aralia wood sat above it with scattered quills and pages adorning the tabletop.

   Yet the most eye-catching objects in the room were the seemingly endless stacks of paintings. They were emotive, beautiful, and haunting still. It was as if someone had spilled their worst fears in form of ink and etched it on paper.

   Kunikuzushi silently approached a pile of drawings, observing them with an indescribable emotion. Kazuha pulled his eyes away, noticing a doorway leading into another room. There was a curtain, tawny and old, hanging heavily from the doorframe. 

   The second thing his eyes caught are the rusted chains glinting against the firelight. Kazuha wasted no time guessing, he knew who they were made to keep. He made his way over and lifted the curtain, sending specks of dust into the air.

   Noticing his motion, Kaaru swiftly made its way over. With light now cascading over the room, Kazuha pulled in a resigned breath. There was a straw mat, torn with stains all over the surface, in the far corner of the room. The room itself was dull, with cold stone walls leaving no room for comfort.

   A lone bedside table sat by the bed; it was entirely empty. But there was a heavy presence in the room, and it felt much like it was breathing in all the air from the space. Kazuha pressed his hand against a silver pouch on his left thigh and upon feeling the fabric took it between his fingers.

   “Kaaru, leave the room.” He looked over to the burning demon, “I don’t want to accidentally pull you into this.” The fire demon was hesitant, hovering in front of Kazuha like an unsure pup but pulled away eventually, leaving Kazuha in suffocating darkness.

   Kazuha also unrolled a page of poetry from La Gardenia and recalled the words, before putting it back in his pocket safely.

   La Gardenia was a famous book of poetry written by a group of individuals well-loved by the previous goddess of Inazuma. Down the years it gained traction with an endowed man who was written into history as Asta. He performed poetry for the spiritual audience so much that it became common practice.

   But the number of copies of La Gardenia was limited after the war. Kazuha counted himself among the lucky few who had even a page of the work. The poem was a re-telling of an ancient tale – Aria, Sonnet, and Canon - the three moon sisters who once dwelled in the Lunar Palace.

   Kazuha took the silver pouch and placed it gently on the floor only a foot away from himself. His page of La Gardenia held a simple purpose – entice and trap. The words spilled naturally, like ink to paper.

   He knew Hotaru was listening. He had recited the very words to many spirits and felt the shift in the air when their attention was captured.

   Hotaru was no demon herself, just a vengeful spirit. If she had never come into contact with Chihiro it was very likely she would have continued wilting in the shade quietly until she slipped away from existence.

   The silver pouch glowed faintly; Hotaru had approached. When Kazuha finished reciting the words the pressure in the room dissipated and left behind solemn silence. The pouch held a saddened soul, Kazuha picked it up with great care.

   “Hotaru,” Kazuha whispered, “I promise I’ll set you and your sister free. It’ll be over soon.”

   Kazuha stood up and fastened the pouch to his belt. He left the dark room and blinked a few times to adjust to the light. There, by the table, Kunikuzushi had sat down to sift through paintings and drawings. Kaaru was flickering gingerly and only lit up after sighting Kazuha.

   “She was a talented artist, no doubt she could have made a name for herself,” Kunikuzushi announced. “But now she must leave.”

   Kazuha glanced down at the silver pouch, “The underworld…” He hesitated but continued after a thoughtful look from Kunikuzushi, “what is it like? Will they find peace?”

   Kunikuzushi nodded. “One day, if you’d like, I will show you.”

   The demon king stood up and came to face Kazuha, with Kaaru slowly following his lead. “It’s a home for many. Some even choose to stay.” Kazuha looked up; shock clear in his eyes. “Whatever assumptions you had, dispel them. The underworld is nothing like they tell you.”

   Kazuha breathed out a sigh of relief. “Okay.”

   “Let’s leave,” Kunikuzushi said. They followed the same path and by the time they had ascended dawn was waking up and the snow had stopped falling. Kunikuzushi offered a gentle hand and helped Kazuha up, they both shut the latch quietly after climbing the ladder.

   “Let’s go speak to Chief Konda first, the sooner he knows the better. We can find Keisuke after so he can say his final goodbyes.” Kazuha dusted off his cloak and started walking in the direction of the chief’s home.

   Kunikuzushi agreed wordlessly. As they walked alongside each other back to the Konda home he commented, “You’re a talented demon hunter. The village is lucky that you answered their plea.”

   “Praise from the demon king, I’m flattered.” Kazuha laughed brightly and yet it was like his heart beat anew.

   Kazuha had gone through many trials as a demon hunter. Most often it was as simple as a couple of words to remedy a problem. The hardest part always weighed heavy on his heart – the suffering of those he embarked to help. Yet, it was a duty he was proud to carry out.

   “What do you think the chief will do after he hears the crimes his wife committed?” Kunikuzushi asked. Kazuha pondered for a moment, but his answer was brief.

   “My job here was to free the sisters, whatever happens next…” Kazuha glanced at Kunikuzushi, “that’s for the village to solve. Not me.”

   The two young men knocked at the door of the Konda home. It opened soon after, the chief ushering them inside. “I did not hear the two of you leave. Did something happen?”

   “Chief Konda, please sit. There’s something you must know.” Kazuha said softly, and the old man raced to the kitchen table.

   At first, disbelief crossed the old man's face. It sat there for a long time and the man seemingly forgot to breathe. He blinked and mutely whispered to himself, “My girls…” And the tears began to pour like rain from the storming clouds.

   He cried, and cried, and cried mournful tears. Kazuha explained it all, the chief listened noiselessly even in his grief. He wept like a soldier missing home when Kazuha presented the silver pouch and thanked them profusely with his hands clasped together to stop the tremors.

   Throughout Kunikuzushi wore an expression showing understanding but spoke no words, crossing his arms and looking outside. “My wife, she is…” The chief explained, “she has an unstable nature. Ever since her youth…But I had not dared to imagine…”

   They spoke into the early morning and Chief Konda promised to send off Hotaru’s soul properly, though he asked for a private moment with his daughter so he could speak to her one last time. Kazuha nodded, and he and Kunikuzushi set out to find Keisuke, Chihiro’s lover.

   They knocked on a dark door, and it swung open after a minute. An older man with dark hair stood on the other side, with tired eyes and unkempt clothing. “Keisuke?” Kazuha asked, and the older man nodded once.

   He let them in once Kazuha explained who he was and listened silently to their explanation. He buried his face in his hands and whispered, “She angry? That I never came?”

   Kazuha answered honestly, “No. But she will be if you don’t now.”

   The man laughed in a pained way but the look in his eyes when he finally looked up was unimaginably tender. “She was temperamental sometimes, and bull-headed. Never realised how much I liked that.”

   “Gods, I wish she were here to yell at me right now.”

   They held a funeral for the sisters with close family in attendance. Chief Konda requested that they attend and so the two young men watched the father bury his daughters once more from a distance.

   The snow had not begun to fall and the dark clouds that hung on the horizon scattered to reveal an icy blue sky. The air was cold, Kazuha rubbed his hands together and breathed into them. “I’m glad it’s over,” he whispered to Kunikuzushi, who smiled in return.

   “It was over sooner than I thought it would be.” Kunikuzushi looked on as Keisuke placed a bunch of daphnes on the frozen ground and let tears stream like rivers in spring, saying his final goodbye. “All things considered.”

   Kazuha sighed. He couldn’t help the warmth that blossomed in his heart at the thought and smiled faintly. “It might be a bad thing to say but if the two sisters hadn’t come across each other, this would not have gone as smoothly as it had.”

   Hotaru had been denied her freedom for many years, shunned from the light of the sun until her bitter end. She was a young girl still, kind, and gentle when she was alive – taken from the world when she was thirteen. “Hotaru never had the chance to understand what happened to her. If it weren’t for Chihiro she would have never acted out and never moved on.”

   Hotaru had lost the use of her legs after an accident, and it was her mother who found the poor girl collapsed and injured in the fields. Perhaps in her own mind, she thought she was protecting Hotaru from the dangerous world; in reality, she hid her away to die.

   The village never knew the truth and Hotaru’s mother cried as though her daughter was missing, blown away like dandelions to distant lands. Somewhere along the way, their mother began to blame Chihiro for her elder sister’s misfortunate end.

   She failed to let go of the very anger she created and lost herself in the story she made. However, Kazuha refused to mourn the girls for too long. They had lived in agony, but they had peace now, for what it was worth, they may have happier lives another day.

   “You read her a poem from La Gardenia.” Kunikuzushi looked at him, “I didn’t think it was still in use.”

   “No, not anymore…There are no copies up for sale these days. I’m lucky to even have a page.” Kazuha briefly explained, “all the books were burned during the war and the rest were bought up by nobility.”

   Kazuha’s grandfather left it in his will for Kazuha to have. It was a precious object both in value and in meaning.

   Kunikuzushi looked thoughtful. The calming wind playfully mused his hair, and he shifted his hat to block it. “It’s a wonderful poem.” Kazuha agreed. The two of them paid their respects to Chihiro and Hotaru and shortly set off.

   “And that’s the village demon problem solved,” Kunikuzushi commented.

   “Good thing there was no demon after all.” Kaaru had been placed back in the lantern to avoid any incidents along the road, and Kunikuzushi seemed to be having a blast swinging the poor flame back and forth.

   “Stop that,” Kazuha chided, “you’ll make Kaaru dizzy.”

   Kunikuzushi laughed, “Is that so? Then, my apologies.” He was not at all apologetic, Kazuha noted. It was all shown in his tone which seemed to broadcast his high spirits.

   “Say, do you know anything about Kaaru’s background?” Kaaru swirled at the question and Kazuha gave the fire demon a breezy smile.

   “Not in the slightest. I don’t even know if it was a man or woman.” Kunikuzushi shrugged, “Probably some kind of pest.” Kaaru slammed against the glass at the comment. “Break that and you’re done.”

   Kazuha sighed at the familiar antics. “Are you gonna take Kaaru back with you?” Kunikuzushi shook his head. “Really? So…Kaaru can stay with me?”

   “Sure, gives me an excuse to be here.” Kunikuzushi handed over the lantern to Kazuha who handled it with care. Kaaru was burning away brightly between the two of them.

   “Does the demon king require an excuse?” Kunikuzushi laughed at that and shook his head again. “I thought someone of your status could do as he pleased.”

   “I suppose I don’t.” Kunikuzushi sighed dramatically and shrugged his shoulders, “But too many nosy shrine maidens and other nuisances start following me around like dogs. Then Yae Miko starts up her interview…”

  “It’s like some crazy fan club. What am I to do?” Kazuha chuckled and Kunikuzushi continued ranting, “Seriously, I can’t even hope to enjoy my dinner with these people swarming me like flies.”

   Good thing you don’t swat them, Kazuha thought, otherwise Yae Miko might take it a step further from just an interview. Then he had a second thought, between Yae Miko and Kunikuzushi, who would win?

   Kazuha asked, “Why not come in disguise if they bother you so much?”

   “Perhaps next time I will.”

   Tenshukaku was a day away if they continued across the countryside at this pace. They spent most of it chattering away like old friends after many years. The sun was looking down through the clouds and the snow glittered under its warm gaze.

   When they reached their destination, Kazuha was almost in a downcast mood. He had gotten used to having someone reply to his musings.

   “You won’t be going to Tenshukaku, are you?” Kazuha asked. Kunikuzushi gave the expected answer of a no with his signature smile. “Then,” Kazuha faced him with Kaaru in his hands, “I suppose this is where we part ways.”

   “I’m afraid so. I have unattended work in the underworld.” Kunikuzushi replied, “but this was a fun adventure, Kazuha.”

   Kazuha huffed, “Your definition of fun might be a little skewed, Kunikuzushi. Thank you for accompanying me and Kaaru.”

   Kunikuzushi turned to leave, pulling his bamboo hat to shade his face from the sun. He stopped just as quickly and turned his head to look at Kazuha, “If ever you wish to read through the entirety of La Gardenia, I have a copy in my personal library.” Then he smiled and wandered away.

   “The…whole thing?” Kazuha lifted up Kaaru, “he has the whole book?!”

   Hereafter, Kazuha headed up to Tenshukaku. The same merchants Kazuha had helped were already bustling and advertising themselves with boisterous voices. Upon noticing Kazuha, they waved good-heartedly. Where was this kindness when you were yelling at me a few days ago?

   Inazuma City had come back to life after the storm and was full of people. There seemed to be an event going on as Kazuha heard distant cheering and clapping. He set his mind on reaching Tenshukaku, however, and gave no more mind to the noise.

   Tenshukaku was a grand place, with tall walls and soldiers patrolling each entrance. There was a flurry of hunters and shrine maidens coming in and out of its gates each day. Kazuha was relieved to see Kano pacing the lower grounds.

   Kazuha approached her and she brightened up like the morning sun after spotting him. “Good day, Kano. Are you well?”

   The woman crossed the terrace gracefully, even if her step was quick. The click of her shoes against the stone pavement was rhythmic. “Well as I could ever be.” Her golden eyes checked him over for any hidden injuries and she smiled faintly, “you were successful?”

   “There was no demon, only two wronged spirits.” Kano listened in understanding as Kazuha explained the situation in Konda Village. Her eyes held no pity, but kind-hearted sympathy.

   “I see. It’s often the case. Thank you for taking on the request, your hard work is always appreciated here.” Kazuha thanked her and the two began to stroll the lower grounds.

   Kano was a pretty woman, tall and dignified. She was older than Kazuha and many times had acted like the concerned elder sister to new demon hunters who were still grasping at the ropes. He was grateful to have found a friend in her.

   “I met someone very interesting.” Kazuha ventured, and Kano hummed. “He was there the entire time, so the success isn’t all mine.”

   “I’ve told you before to work with other hunters, but you’ve always rejected my requests. Was this one too handsome to push away?” She teased and Kazuha bumped her shoulder lightly. She giggled behind her sleeve, “I see, I’m right.”

   “Your imagination knows no bounds, Kano.” The two of them reached the main gate of Tenshukaku and basked in the golden sun, joking, and laughing.

   “I have a request that may suit you, Kaedehara.” Kazuha raised an eyebrow and the shrine maiden continued, “you’ll have to travel to Ritou.”

   “That’s quite far, what happened?”

   “Nothing too serious. It’s a personal request actually.” Kano bit back a smile but Kazuha noticed it anyway and suddenly became suspicious. “You see…a shipment for some incredible silks should land there in a few days’ time. I’m very worried about the safety of these materials, what shall we do if a water demon destroys the entire batch?”

   “Yes,” Kazuha mocked, “that would be a true devastation to the market.”

   “Right on,” Kano nodded, “So you’ll make sure they arrive safely? And you’ll bring some back for me to double-check?”

   “Of course, we can’t have any accidents occurring to these precious silks of yours, excuse me, of the Inazuman market.”

   “So, you understand! Very good, I’ll pay very generously. Safe travels, Kaedehara.”

   Kazuha saluted mockingly and took off with Kaaru in his left hand. He felt his mood rise inexplicably high as he mused about the past few days. He was certain his newfound friendship with Kunikuzushi would begin to raise questions with Yae Miko, but he could deal with that.

   For now, he had a very important mission to carry out; enjoying the port of Ritou and watching the ships cruise the seas with Kaaru under a sunny sky.