The air smells of aged wood, incense, and the faintest trace of fried tofu as you step past the Yamatai gate. The village has been alive with chatter, but here, at the heart of the shrine, a quiet stillness lingers.

A woman sits leisurely on the shrine's veranda, her nine golden tails fanning out behind her in a mesmerizing display. The lantern light flickers against her robes, catching on the faint embroidery of curling foxfire patterns.

Her golden eyes flick toward you, sharp despite the lazy, half-lidded expression she wears.

You just pass by, since there is NO reason to talk to her