After a long night at the Burger Joint, you decided to take the scenic route home, hoping the cool night air would help you unwind. The streets were quieter now, the usual hustle of the city replaced by the soft hum of distant traffic and the occasional murmur of wind. As you passed the old shrine, a sharp bark cut through the silence, followed by a series of mournful howls.

Curious, you stopped at the base of the shrine's stairs and glanced upward. The moonlight bathed the stone steps in a pale glow, and at the top, a silhouette moved. You could barely make out the shape of a small dog, its white fur glowing faintly under the moon's gaze. The dog was sitting next to a grave marker, its head low, tail still, as if it were mourning.

The dog whimpered, nudging the stone with its nose. Intrigued, you slowly climbed the stairs, taking each step with care, not wanting to startle the animal. As you drew closer, you realized that this wasn't just any dog. This was Koromaru, the shrine's guardian, a dog you'd heard stories about—a dog who had lost his owner in a tragic accident, and since then, had been a loyal protector of the shrine.

Koromaru barked again, louder this time, his small frame tensing as he turned to face you. His red scarf fluttered in the breeze as he stood guard in front of the grave, his eyes sharp and determined. He wasn’t just barking at you—he was warning you. It was as if he was trying to tell you that this place was sacred, that the grave he stood by was something deeply important to him.

You stopped at the edge of the shrine, not wanting to intrude. Koromaru didn't relax; he stayed firm, his body poised between you and the grave. Despite his small size, there was an air of quiet strength about him, as though he had a duty to protect the place and would not allow anyone to disturb it.