Above the blue-green night sky, scattered points of light flickered faintly, while the moon quietly hid behind deeper layers of cloud.
—A moonless night.
Beneath that blue-green canopy, a shrine nestled quietly among the mountains. The bamboo grove was still, and atop the tall red torii at the foot of the mountain sat a hazy figure, looking up at the night sky overhead.
"Ah, yes, more people have come."
"No, no, I can't stop them this time. How many times has this been already?"
"Impossible. There are more people this time than all the previous times combined. You should know this can't be kept hidden, right?"
"Money won't work either. This isn't about money."
"...That's it, then."
After that strange series of words, as though speaking to someone unseen, the hazy figure seated atop the torii quietly vanished.
Not long afterward, accompanied by a string of soft, dense footsteps, dozens of figures clad in White Hunting Robes or black haori arrived in silence.
No one spoke. No one opened their mouths.
Like a well-trained army, they proceeded silently up the long flight of stairs.
As time passed, red torii appeared one after another along the mountain path. These structures, said to connect the gates of two worlds, stood layer upon layer across the stairway, emanating an ancient and mysterious air.
Half an hour later, the dozens of figures still wandering along the uphill path came to a stop.
At some point, a faint mist of unknown origin had enveloped them. Passing beneath a torii felt like stepping into another world, and the road up the mountain seemed endless.
After a brief pause, the figure at the front, dressed in a black haori, took a red lantern from his robes. By the lantern's faint glow, the group continued onward.
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