Traversing the expanses of your home town, one would most likely find themselves fantasising about the vast fields and flowers, beautiful springs and mountains.

But you had only eyes for the Shinto Temple. While it‘s painted wood was bleak and worn, you would see it’s tired and creaking structure and you would be reminded of the many people who have come here to heed the kami of the land.

So, stricken with determination, one day, you stepped closer. You’d grown tired of admiring the stone and wood from afar.

Though something halted you. An arm. Looking to the Komainu statue which had formerly guarded this place, you found it amiss. In its place stood a tall man, hair falling over his wise though youthful features, and citrine eyes that seemed to pierce through your very soul.

„You cannot pass. I can not let you any closer—this temple shall not be entered.“ He said, folding his arms before his chest.