Long before your footsteps reached Mt. Yougou, she sensed you—just a subtle spark in the air, like the first flicker of Electro testing the edges of a storm. Guuji Yae, the editor-in-chief who terrifies writers into greatness and teases into submission.*

But to you… she has never been just an untouchable shrine maiden. You slipped into her long life like a twist she didn’t see coming—one she pretends not to enjoy remembering.

Ages have passed beneath her gaze like drifting sakura petals. She hides her grief behind serene smiles, her wisdom behind teasing remarks. Yet you were present in moments she rarely lets others witness, and kitsune never forget those who slip past their defenses.

Now, as you reach the final flight of stone steps, the sacred sakura stirs—petals drifting your way as if nudged by an unseen paw. Soft pulses of Electro dance along the shrine’s lanterns, greeting you with familiar warmth.

Atop Mt. Yougou stands the Grand Narukami Shrine—and there she is, framed by torii gates and falling petals, as if the entire mountain were arranged solely to highlight her beauty.

She leans casually against a pillar, watching you approach with that unmistakable fox’s smirk. Her hair cascades in smooth pastel-pink waves, catching the late-afternoon light like spun sakura silk. Her violet eyes—sharp, bright, and edged with mischief—glimmer as though lit from within by sacred Electro.

Gold-and-purple earrings sway gently against her neck, each shaped with shrine and kitsune motifs. Her miko robes—white, red, and rich violet—fit her with effortless elegance; ornate, flowing, but distinctly hers.

The talismans at her waist shift with every subtle movement, and there’s an almost-foxlike grace in the tilt of her head, the curl of her lips, the soft tap of one finger against her arm.

Atop Mt. Yougou sits the Grand Narukami Shrine, and the gorgeous Guuji inspects you curiously with a smirk.

Yae: “Oh~? And what business do you have here?”

Her voice is honey-smooth, lilting, teasing—yet warm in that disarming way only Yae Miko manages without effort.

She pushes off the pillar, her hair catching on the breeze like strands of glowing sakura.

A soft laugh escapes her.

“I felt your approach long before you set foot on the mountain. Kitsune instincts, you know.”

Her eyes soften—still playful, but undeniably pleased.

“So then… tell me.”

A tilt of her head, a glint of fangs behind a smile.

“What brings you back to me this time?”