After practice, You suggested everyone go eat sukiyaki together. The girls all agreed. They found a shop and sat down. There weren’t many customers, and the place had a warm atmosphere.
When the sukiyaki pot was brought out, the broth was bubbling. Beef, scallion segments, tofu, shiitake mushrooms were all neatly arranged in the pot. The sweet soy sauce fragrance mixed with the heat of the fat wafted upward.
The few of them sat around the table, chopsticks in hand, but no one moved.
Chihaya stared at the beef rolling in the pot, her gaze a bit unfocused.
She was thinking about today’s events. The moment You sat on the corridor with his eyes closed and spiritual power rippled out from around his body, she couldn’t clearly describe the feeling in her heart. It wasn’t surprise—from the day he casually gave them Divine Grace, she had already stopped being surprised by anything he did.
When she thought about it carefully, ever since she met him, this person never did things by the rules. When he first met Futaba, he directly said to her,
“Then just kiss me once.”
When faced with someone hitting on them, he said,
“These three are all my girlfriends.”
And now he casually said something as outrageous as
“worshipping myself as a god”
as if it were nothing.
It was one thing that his spiritual perception was fast, but his curse art learning was also absurdly fast. She learned “Purification” in three days. Futaba took five. Hitomi didn’t say, but from her expression it was about the same. Mai took a week. This was common sense, an unchanging iron rule of Shinto cultivation for thousands of years.
How long did You take? From calling spiritual power to successful spellcasting, less than half an hour.
He was very talented, or rather a monster, but it wasn’t just that.
She picked up a slice of beef, put it in her mouth, and chewed slowly. Admiration? A little. But more than that was an indescribable feeling.
She remembered the day they first met, in the Main Hall of Tsukuyomi Grand Shrine, when You handed them that bead.
“From now on, we’re a family.”
His tone was as casual as if he were handing out a bottle of soda.
At that time, she was simply shocked by the generosity of the Divine Child she had just met.
Later, this person—his way of thinking was completely different from what they had been taught since childhood. He never followed the rules, but every time it had unexpected results.
Everything he did seemed to tell her—he didn’t care about the things they cared about. He didn’t care about the value of Divine Grace, he didn’t care about the iron rules of cultivation, not even about the identity of “Divine Child.”
What did he care about? Family. That phrase
“we’re a family.”
Chihaya’s eyes grew a bit moist. She swallowed the beef, picked up her tea cup, and took a sip. The tea had already gone cold.
***
Futaba stirred the beaten egg in her bowl with her chopsticks, round and round, very slowly.
She hadn’t fanned herself much today. Her fan lay by the table, lonely. Her mind was still churning over that phrase from earlier—
“I worship myself as a god.”
Absurd. But he said it so naturally, as if all cultivators in the world should do this, just that no one had thought of it.
Futaba remembered when she learned “Purification.” Five days. She sat on the shrine’s corridor every day, facing the same piece of paper, guiding her spiritual power over and over. At that time, she thought it was only natural—this was what miko training was: worship the gods, calm the mind, practice over and over.
She never thought there could be another way.
This person seemed unable to be confined by “rules.” Whether giving away precious Divine Grace or breaking the iron laws of cultivation.
Futaba fished out a slice of beef from the pot, put it in her bowl, watched the golden egg yolk coat the beef, but didn’t pick up her chopsticks.
She remembered when she was watching Chihaya’s excitement this morning. She had called him “You” in her heart. What had she been thinking then? It was fear. For the first time, she had a feeling she didn’t dare to think about. She was running away.
She watched that piece of beef slowly cool in the egg yolk, the fat congealing into a thin white layer.
She didn’t like this feeling of losing control. She was used to smiling, used to hiding, used to standing by and watching others’ excitement, used to that feeling of ease. But now she felt like she was standing in the center of the stage, under the spotlight, with nowhere to escape. She could no longer face herself with equanimity.
‘I feel like I’m falling a bit?’
She pushed that thought down, recited
“The wise do not enter the river of love”
a few times in her heart, picked up the now-cold beef, and stuffed it into her mouth.
She frowned. The beef was cold, a bit gamey. She swallowed it, an indescribable taste in her heart.
Futaba picked up her fan, opened it, then closed it again. She didn’t like feelings she couldn’t articulate, but this time, that phrase
“The wise do not enter the river of love”
didn’t seem to work as well as last time.
***
Mai sat next to You, poking at the rice in her bowl with her chopsticks, one poke at a time. The rice had several holes poked into it.
She hadn’t spoken much today. That wasn’t like her. But she was thinking about something. You did it again.
Sensing spiritual power, performing curse arts—both on the first try. Sister Chihaya said it was hard. She herself learned “Purification” in a week. One week, practicing every day, until her hands ached, until her eyes blurred, and she barely succeeded.
How long did You take? She was there at the time, she saw it clearly—less than half a minute.
Mai swallowed the rice she had poked into a mess. Her heart felt sour and swollen, as if something was stuck there, unable to come out or go down.
It wasn’t jealousy, but a more subtle feeling. You was so outstanding. When would he notice me and stop seeing me as a child?
She sneaked a glance at You. He was talking to Futaba, his profile softened by the shop’s lights.
She quickly lowered her head, her ears a bit hot.
It was always like this. Her older sister stood at the front, Sister Futaba watched the excitement from the side, Sister Hitomi observed quietly, and she was always the last to be noticed.
She picked up a slice of beef and placed it in You’s bowl, her movements very light, as if afraid of being discovered.
“You, eat more.”
You gave an “oh,” lowered his head, and ate that slice of beef. His cheeks were puffed out as he chewed happily.
Mai watched his profile, her heartbeat quickened by two beats. She quickly lowered her head, her ears a bit hot.
To cover it up, she picked up a piece of tofu, mixed it with rice, and took a bite. But she burned her tongue.
“Wuwu,”
she panted, her little face turning red. You saw this and quickly poured Mai a glass of juice.
***
Hitomi sat on the outermost side. The hot steam from the pot drifted over, blurring her vision.
She didn’t pick up her chopsticks. She just held her teacup and drank slowly.
She admitted that You had indeed surprised her more than once.
She remembered today’s events. When You said
“I worship myself as a god,”
she was truly shocked. How did this person come up with that?
She had grown up in the Nissho Clan. In all the texts she’d read, teachings she’d heard, and cultivators she’d met, no one had ever proposed such an idea. But he just did it as if it were the most natural thing, and succeeded.
Also, Hitomi thought of something earlier. Three days ago, Chihaya had said,
“You said, ‘We’re a family,’ and then gave us Divine Grace.”
At that time, she had just joined and didn’t really understand the weight of those words.
Today she understood a little. A person who didn’t care about external things, a person who held nothing back for “his own people,” a person who didn’t play by the rules but somehow always got it right.
Her heart was indeed beginning to waver. She didn’t know if this counted as a flutter of the heart. But at least, she was starting to get curious. Curious about what this person would do next.
‘If it’s him, being a husband might not be bad either.’
She was amused by her own thought. She put down her teacup, picked up a slice of beef, and swished it in the pot.
She needed more time. She didn’t want to be carried forward by the atmosphere, didn’t want to rush to a judgment just because
“everyone is like this so I should be too.”
She put the swished beef into her mouth and chewed slowly. The taste was good. Sweet and salty just right, the beef very tender.
But—she glanced at You. He was pouring juice for Mai, who had an expression of being burned. Chihaya looked worried on the side, and Futaba was watching with a smile.
A very faint smile curved at the corner of Hitomi’s mouth. How nice. No rush. There’s still time for me to get to know you better, You.
***
You picked up the last slice of beef, dipped it in egg yolk, and stuffed it into his mouth, his cheeks bulging.
He noticed that the others hadn’t eaten much. Most of the food in the pot was eaten by him alone.
“Aren’t you all hungry?”
Chihaya shook her head.
“Not really hungry.”
Futaba smiled.
“Just watching you eat fills me up.”
The broth in the pot was still bubbling. The hot steam blurred everyone’s faces.
You drank the last of the soup, put down his bowl, and sighed contentedly.
“Let’s go, go back and rest. We still have training tomorrow.”
The group stood up, paid the bill, and went out.
The night wind blew down from the mountain, chilly, blowing away all the warmth from the sukiyaki shop in an instant.
You walked at the front, his shadow stretched long by the streetlights. The four girls followed behind him, their shadows overlapping, indistinguishable from each other.
No one spoke. But something was slowly fermenting in each of their hearts. Not love, but something fuzzier, more ambiguous, indescribable. Like the broth in the pot, bubbling, unknown when it would boil over.
‘Amaterasu Omikami, please do not be too hasty. Give your miko a little time, let me truly make my own choice.’
Soon she would learn that her deity had not heard her prayer.