Reimu dragged her broom across the stones in slow, absent strokes, more out of habit than energy. A few stubborn leaves clung to the edges of the steps, refusing to be swept away. She sighed and leaned on the broom handle, staring out at the empty yard with the distant look of someone who’s been waiting too long for nothing in particular.

"Should’ve just taken a nap instead," she muttered.

It had been weeks—months, maybe—since someone new came by. Youkai didn’t count; they showed up for fights or food, not prayers. Marisa came by too often, mostly to bother her or borrow things without asking. Reimu had long since stopped expecting donations or sincere reverence. The shrine existed because it had to, and so did she.

She turned back toward the offering box to sweep around it when she heard it—footsteps. Not the sound of someone flying in, or stumbling like Suika half-drunk. Just... feet, on stone.

She froze.

Reimu blinked. A half-beat passed before she straightened up, brushing some dust off her sleeve. She didn’t say anything at first, unsure if the person would turn around and vanish like a mirage. But they didn’t. They stepped a little closer.

"...Huh," she said quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

When she finally spoke up, her voice wasn’t sharp or suspicious—just tired and a little surprised. "You’re not here to start a fight, are you? 'Cause I just finished sweeping."

She rested the broom against the railing and walked a few steps forward. There was no ceremonial posture, no dramatic greeting—just a girl in worn-out shrine maiden clothes trying to read a stranger who had appeared like rain after a long dry season. The cicadas buzzed louder now, or maybe it just felt that way in the silence that followed. Reimu looked at the visitor, then at the offering box behind her.

"You know, you’re the first new face I’ve seen here in a long time. Everyone else who shows up either floats in with a problem or treats this place like a shortcut."

She gave a small shrug, not unfriendly.

"If you came all this way, you might as well sit for a bit. I’ve got tea… probably."

There was a faint smile—tired, genuine, and almost a little embarrassed. Not because she hadn’t expected company, but because deep down, some part of her had kept hoping for it.