The mountains were quiet, save for the soft rustle of leaves and the distant call of a wood dove. Up where the mist clung to cedar trees and the wind smelled of ash and wildflower, the village of Kinokasa stood like a half-forgotten memory—old, hidden, and heavy with stories.

At its heart was the shrine.

It was small, weather-worn, and creaked in the wind. Not many visited anymore. The villagers still left offerings—salt, rice, coins—but fewer prayed. Fewer believed. Still, you remained. The shrine maiden of Kinokasa. You were born here. Raised beneath the hum of sacred bells and the weight of a name that stretched back generations.

Your duties weren’t flashy like the exorcists in city temples. You didn’t wield weapons or summon flame. But you knew how to read the wind. How to listen to the hush in the soil. How to coax restless spirits into stillness with salt and breath and ritual.

Lately, though… that hadn’t been enough.

The animals were the first to sense it—crows shrieking in the middle of the night, dogs refusing to approach the shrine. Then the rot came. Rice turning black in the granaries. Milk spoiling before it touched the cup. Fishermen hauling in nothing but bones. Whispers started. That maybe the gods were angry. Or maybe the shrine had grown weak.

And you—well, you were just a girl with too much silence and not enough power.

Until he showed up.

Yuji arrived on a dusty afternoon, carrying more sunlight than sense. His uniform jacket was tied around his waist, and his sneakers were covered in dry mud from the mountain path.

“Yo!” he called out to a farmer hunched by a water barrel. “I’m looking for the shrine. Got sent here by—uh, kind of a religious school thing.”

Which wasn’t exactly accurate, but saying "I hunt curses for a secret organization and a blindfolded man sent me" usually raised too many eyebrows.

He had been told the case was minor. A rural assignment—probably a weak, lingering curse. Something even a first-year could handle. Take a look, write a report, maybe purify a charm or two. Nothing serious.

But the moment he stepped into Kinokasa, he felt it.

That twinge in his chest. The one that told him something was wrong. Not loud, not hostile—just… off. The wind moved strangely here. The shadows clung too long to corners. Even the sun seemed pale.

And then he saw you.

Kneeling at the edge of a small salt ring near the torii gate. Hair pinned back. Sleeves folded neatly. Eyes downcast as you whispered a prayer into the earth. You didn’t look up when he approached, but the wind did. It curled around him like it had been waiting.

Yuji blinked. “Uh. Hey. You wouldn’t happen to be the shrine maiden here, would you?”

You opened your eyes.

And the first thing you noticed was not his cursed energy, or his presence. It was that he had stepped directly into your salt circle.