Another morning had arrived.
Sunlight spilled over the eastern ridge, painting the wooden corridor floor a pale gold.
The dew on the bamboo leaves had yet to dry, and with each gust of wind it fell with a soft rustle, pattering onto the moss beside the stone lantern.
The cicadas hadn’t started their chorus yet.
The courtyard was quiet, broken only by the murmur of a distant stream.
You sat cross-legged on the corridor, the silk cloth spread out before him.
The silver-threaded patterns glowed softly in the morning light—thick roots, delicate branches, like a tree lying fallen across the fabric.
He took a deep breath and pressed his palm onto it.
Spiritual power surged from his palm, flowing into the roots.
This time, something felt different—perhaps thanks to yesterday’s sustained practice, the stability had noticeably improved when accelerating through the root section.
Yesterday, pushing harder had made his spiritual power feel like it was about to scatter.
Today, that sense of collapse was much weaker.
The energy circulated through the roots, back and forth.
It probably wasn’t anywhere near the speed of “one instant” yet, but at least it no longer dispersed midway.
Unfortunately, guiding spiritual power required total concentration.
At least for a beginner like him.
He couldn’t split his attention to time himself, so he had no idea how close he was to the 0.36-second target.
But dwelling on that was pointless.
Just practice.
Practice makes perfect.
He closed his eyes and continued guiding his spiritual power—accelerating through the roots, decelerating, then accelerating again.
Repeating the process endlessly.
Before he knew it, time had slipped away.
He poured his entire mind and body into the seemingly monotonous flow of spiritual energy.
***
The girls were chatting nearby.
At first, they kept their voices low, afraid of disturbing You.
But as the conversation picked up and they got absorbed, their volume gradually returned to normal.
Still, nobody deliberately lowered their voice.
Fortunately, You was far too focused to notice what they were saying.
It started as casual small talk.
Mai said the sweets from yesterday were delicious and asked Chihaya if she could have the innkeeper send more.
Chihaya replied that those were a gift, not a menu item—if Mai wanted more, she could buy them herself.
Mai pouted but said nothing further.
Someone brought up curse arts.
Probably Mai—she saw how seriously You was practicing and casually asked,
“Sis, when spiritual power makes a turn in a healing spell, is there any technique to make the transition smoother?”
Chihaya thought for a moment and answered.
Then Futaba chimed in with a smile.
And then Hitomi spoke up too.
The topic took off.
Chihaya explained that the Mochizuki family’s approach was to decelerate before the turning point and accelerate after it, like taking a curve in a car.
Futaba said the Tsukuyomi family did things differently—they didn’t decelerate.
Instead, they split the spiritual power into two streams: while one took the turn, the other pulled ahead from the front.
Hitomi said the Nissho clan had an even simpler method—they never turned at all.
Their spiritual power moved in straight lines because their spell structures were designed to require no turns in the first place.
Mai’s eyes lit up.
“That’s possible?”
As time passed, their conversation grew deeper.
From spiritual power distribution to spell pattern structures, from incantation rhythm to the timing of release.
Each family’s approach was largely similar, yet subtly different—and each had its own logic.
These girls were the finest miko of their respective houses in this generation.
They might not have loved curse arts, but they were certainly masters of them.
When it came to these technical topics, everyone had plenty to share.
They moved from “purification” to “healing,” and from “healing” to each family’s general-purpose curse arts.
While it was out of the question to exchange high-level techniques or the core secrets of each house, simply discussing the finer points of common curse arts was enough to keep them going for quite a while.
Especially for Chihara, Mai, and Futaba—though the Nissho clan belonged to the same Shinto circle, their status had always been somewhat aloof, and they didn’t interact much with other families.
This exchange felt genuinely rewarding to them.
Even Hitomi found that the Mochizuki and Tsukuyomi families had some ingenious ideas she could apply to optimizing her own curse arts.
Even Mai occasionally chimed in with a word or two.
Her skill level wasn’t as high as her sister’s or Futaba’s, but she was far above an ordinary miko.
She said that when she practiced “healing,” her spiritual power wasn’t fine enough and always got stuck at the third branch.
Chihaya taught her a method—first practice splitting spiritual power, dividing one stream into two, then merging them back into one.
Repeat this over and over, and the spiritual power would naturally become finer.
Futaba nodded.
“That’s a good method. The Tsukuyomi family does something similar, but we start by practicing compression—squeezing spiritual power into a single line, then releasing it.”
Hitomi listened, looking thoughtful.
“The two methods emphasize different aspects. The Mochizuki family trains division and reunion. The Tsukuyomi family trains compression. Our Nissho clan trains expansion—first spreading the spiritual power wide, then drawing it back together.”
“Then what if you combined all three approaches?”
Mai blurted out.
The three of them turned to look at her simultaneously.
Mai shrank back slightly under the scrutiny, feeling a bit nervous.
“I was just saying…”
Chihaya pondered for a moment.
“Theoretically possible. But in practice, it would require a deep understanding of all three methods.”
Futaba smiled.
“Mai-chan, that’s quite a bold idea.”
Hitomi smiled too.
“Though it’s not impossible. The curse arts of the Shinto world were developed by each clan exploring from different angles. If we can learn from one another, perhaps we really could refine better techniques.”
Time flew by.
The sunlight crept from the corridor floor onto the walkway itself, shifting from pale gold to bright white.
The dew on the bamboo leaves had long since dried.
The cicadas began their chorus, wave after wave, grating on the nerves.
Chihaya glanced at the clock on the wall.
Her expression froze.
Eleven forty.
She remembered sitting down for tea at just past eight.
More than three hours had passed.
Chihaya’s heart skipped a beat, a wave of intense self-reproach washing over her.
Her task was to teach You-kun curse arts.
How had she ended up chatting with Futaba and Hitomi?
And leaving You-kun to practice on his own?
She stood up quickly and walked over to You.
You sat with his eyes closed, palm pressed to the silk cloth, lips moving slightly as if murmuring something.
His brow was faintly furrowed, utterly absorbed.
Chihaya cleared her throat.
“Alright, You-kun, you can take a break now.”
You didn’t respond.
She called again.
“You-kun?”
Only then did You open his eyes, his gaze slightly unfocused, as if still immersed in practice.
He looked around and noticed the sun was already high.
“Ah, it’s already noon.”
The moment he spoke, he realized his throat was dry and his body was tired.
Chihaya didn’t answer.
She sat down beside him and placed her hand on his back.
A faint glow emanated from her palm as spiritual power seeped into his back and circulated through his body.
A few seconds later, she let out a relieved breath.
“Good. Your spiritual power hasn’t reached its limit yet.”
She withdrew her hand, sat down in front of You, and bowed her body forward slightly in a sincere bow.
“I failed to fulfill my duty as your instructor. This is my negligence. I sincerely apologize.”
You was caught off guard and quickly waved his hands.
“It’s fine, it’s fine. Chihaya, you’re being too serious.”
Chihaya didn’t straighten up, keeping her head slightly lowered.
“But I must point something out, You-kun.”
Her tone grew serious.
“You are a descendant of Tsukuyomi-no-Mikoto. Your first priority is to ensure your own health. You cannot lose track of time while training in curse arts. I told you yesterday that excessive spiritual power circulation is harmful to the body.”
You quickly nodded.
“Got it, got it. I’ll be careful next time.”
Chihaya raised her head and looked into his eyes, as if trying to confirm whether he truly understood.
Feeling a little guilty under her gaze, You added,
“Really. I promise.”