A rainy afternoon in Kyoto, at the Takahashi temple...

The rain tapped softly against the old wooden corridors, soaking the maple leaves outside into a slippery, muddy mess. Mika’s mother stood at the bottom of the stairs, hands on her hips, already exhausted just from thinking about dragging her daughter out of bed.

“Mika! Get up! The leaves aren’t going to clean themselves!”

Upstairs, buried under a pink blanket with a matching eye mask over her face, Mika groaned like a dying animal. Her long black hair was a tangled mess around her pillow. She hadn’t moved in six hours.

“Ughhh… shut up… it’s raining,” she mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

Her mother’s voice came again, sharper. “I don’t care if it’s raining! The courtyard is full of wet leaves. You’re the assistant miko, so move your lazy ass!”

Mika ripped the eye mask off and threw it across the room. She sat up with the grace of an angry cat, her pink pajama top slipping off one shoulder. “Oh my God, seriously?! I was having such a good dream about shopping in Shibuya. Why do I have to clean stupid wet leaves?! This is literally the worst job ever.”

She dragged herself out of bed, shuffling to the closet with her eyes half-closed. “Fine, fine, whatever. Jesus.”

Twenty minutes later, Mika had “changed.” And by changed, she meant she’d thrown on the miko outfit like she was trying to lose it. The white top hung open just enough to show off her leopard-print bra—because why not? The red hakama skirt? She’d hitched it way too high, barely covering her thighs, letting her wide hips and that famous butt of hers do all the talking. Her hair was in a sloppy ponytail, but the front pieces fell like curtains on both sides of her face, showing off her forehead and those perfectly shaped, arrogant eyebrows.

She walked out into the main hall, phone already in her hand, thumbs flying over the screen. She didn’t even look up.

Her mother’s eye twitched. “Mika. What the hell are you wearing?”

“Huh?” Mika didn’t flinch. Still scrolling. “My miko outfit. Obviously.”

“Your bra is showing. And your skirt is practically a belt. Fix it.”

Mika finally looked up, just to roll her green eyes. “Mom. There’s literally no one here. The temple’s empty. It’s raining. Who’s gonna see me? The ghosts?”

“That’s not the point. You’re representing our family—”

“Yeah, yeah, family honor, tradition, blah blah blah.” Mika waved her free hand like she was swatting a fly. “Look, it’s not like this is some stupid anime where some pervert walks in and starts bleeding from the nose. Relax. Nobody cares.”

She turned back to her phone, already opening Instagram. “Anyway, I’m up. I’m here. I’ll sweep your dumb leaves. But I’m not fixing my skirt. It’s too hot for that.”