Chihaya closed her laptop.
“Eat out or order takeout?”
“Let’s eat out.”
Futaba smiled.
“Chihaya, you and Hitomi have been in the room all day. Don’t you want to go out for a walk?”
“Me too.”
Mai raised her hand.
“I want to eat at that sukiyaki place from last time.”
“Sukiyaki again?”
You glanced at her.
“It’s tasty.”
Chihaya thought for a moment.
“That place is a bit far. It takes twenty minutes to walk there.”
“That’s fine.”
Mai jumped up from the tatami.
“Taste is what matters most.”
Chihaya looked at Hitomi.
“Hitomi? What do you want to eat?”
Hitomi finally pulled her gaze away from the hydrangea. She glanced at Chihaya, then looked away.
“Either is fine. You decide.”
Hitomi’s voice was still soft.
“Then sukiyaki it is.”
You stood up.
“That place last time was really good.”
The group tidied up a bit and prepared to go out.
You walked to the door and looked back.
The four girls stood behind him. Orange sunset light streamed in through the window, hitting them, casting long shadows that overlapped.
“Let’s go, let’s go.”
He pushed open the door.
The night wind blew down from the mountain, chilly, rustling the bamboo in the courtyard.
The group filed out. You walked at the front, leading the way.
Chihaya and Mai walked hand in hand, the two sisters chatting about something. Futaba walked in the middle, her eyelids half-lowered. Hitomi walked at the very back, head down, looking at her toes.
Hakone’s night was very quiet. Only the sound of wind, the rustle of bamboo, and the gurgle of a distant stream. Hitomi’s hair tips were blown by the wind, brushing against her cheek. She reached up and brushed them behind her ear.
‘Nissho Hitomi, Nissho Hitomi, you need to think clearly. You can’t charge forward and then back off. Being half-hearted like this, how can you be worthy of Amaterasu Omikami’s divine grace?’
You and the girls arrived at the restaurant and sat in the same seats as last time. When the sukiyaki pot was brought out, the broth was bubbling. Beef, green onion segments, tofu, shiitake mushrooms, all neatly arranged in the pot. The sweet soy sauce aroma mixed with the heat of fat rose up.
The group sat around the table, chopsticks in hand, about to start eating.
***
Tokyo, Chiyoda Ward, Nagatacho.
The atmosphere in the Prime Minister’s Official Residence office was not good.
The Prime Minister slammed a document heavily onto the desk. With a smack, the entire office shook. He stood by the window, back to his secretary, looking at the night view outside. Tokyo’s night was brightly lit, but he wasn’t in the mood to appreciate it.
“Why is there an Imperial Household Agency miko absent without reason?”
His voice was so loud that even the secretaries in the hallway could hear.
“Three days. A full three days. No leave requested, no email submitted afterward. This is dereliction of duty. Wasting taxpayer money!”
He turned around and stared at the secretary standing at the door.
“Fire her.”
The secretary stood still, not moving. His face wore a perfectly appropriate expression of deference.
“Yes, Prime Minister. You are absolutely right. This is indeed a rather inappropriate behavior, and one could even say that to some extent it constitutes a minor but not negligible violation of public sector disciplinary norms.”
He paused.
“But I believe it may not be necessary to take such extreme measures as termination. Allow me to remind you, Prime Minister, that this miko’s identity may have a certain particularity that you must pay close attention to.”
The Prime Minister snorted angrily.
“And who is she?”
His tone held a “I’d like to see what background she’s from” impatience.
“I don’t even dare to be absent without reason.”
The secretary nodded slightly, his expression unchanged.
“Yes, Prime Minister. You are a model of Japanese politics, that is indisputable and needs no further elaboration from me. But this miko who did not appear at her post on time—her surname is Nissho.”
The Prime Minister’s eyebrows twitched.
“Nissho?”
“Yes, Prime Minister. Nissho. That Nissho.”
The secretary did not elaborate. In Japan, mentioning the surname “Nissho” would immediately make anyone with a normal mind think of one thing—Amaterasu Omikami.
The Prime Minister’s expression changed, an anger of offended pride.
“Damn it!”
He slammed the desk.
“These Shinto family clans have never taken the nation and government seriously! Do they treat government work like child’s play?”
He walked to the window, back to the secretary.
“I’ll make them understand that this country runs on the cabinet and rule of law, not on faith!”
The view outside was good. The Nagatacho skyline, with the dome of the National Diet Building visible in the distance. But the Prime Minister had no mood to appreciate the scenery. He was waiting for the secretary’s response.
The secretary did answer.
“Yes, Prime Minister. You are right. The country certainly runs on your governance and the vast civil service system doing some small, unknown, but indispensable work behind the scenes. On that point, I believe no one would raise any substantive objection.”
“However, as your chief secretary, I must remind you—Amaterasu Omikami truly exists, and so does Takamagahara.”
The Prime Minister turned around, his face full of scorn.
“So what? Human-God Separation. That’s the iron rule established since the Heian Period.”
He leaned back, crossing his arms.
“Why doesn’t Amaterasu go dismantle the US military bases in Okinawa?”
The secretary’s expression was impeccable, but his eyes carried a well-hidden hint of disdain.
“Yes, Prime Minister. Your familiarity with history amazes me. However, the Nissho family, as the clan serving Amaterasu Omikami, has considerable influence in Kyoto and even the Kinki region.”
He paused, making sure the next sentence would hit the Prime Minister’s sore spot precisely.
“Allow me to remind you, Prime Minister—the midterm election is coming soon. And the Kinki region is our key voting base.”
The Prime Minister’s fingers stopped tapping.
“As for this Miss Nissho Hitomi, she is a core member of the Nissho family.”
The office fell silent for a few seconds.
Then, the Prime Minister’s expression changed.
“Haha.”
He let out a loud laugh, sat down behind the desk, the anger fading from his face, replaced by a warm, kind, even somewhat benevolent smile.
“Young people—it’s normal to have personal matters. I even used to skip class back in the day.”
“Suzuki—”
“Yes, Prime Minister.”
“Go tell the Imperial Household Agency to write off this Miss Nissho’s attendance record.”
He thought for a moment and added another sentence.
“No, just keep her on the payroll. No need to attend work. After all—”
He spread his hands, revealing a sincere, politician’s smile.
“Shinto faith is an excellent cultural tradition of Japan. It is the cornerstone of Japan. We must promote and take care of it more.”
The secretary bowed slightly.
“Yes, Prime Minister. Everything as you wish.”
He took a step back.
“I’ll take my leave now.”
“Go on, go on.”
The secretary turned, walked out of the office, and gently closed the door.
The Prime Minister’s office returned to silence.
On the corridor, Secretary Suzuki changed his expression. Speaking on the phone, he scolded the person on the other end with clear anger, “Damn it. Who let the Prime Minister know about such a trivial matter as an Imperial Household Agency miko taking time off? The Prime Minister shouldn’t know about these things. When the Prime Minister knows about something like this, it makes things difficult for us. Remember, the Prime Minister only needs to know what he should know.”
A crow cawed outside the window, its voice echoing over Nagatacho.
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