The story Hoshino told contained no love.
Since it involved ancient times, it was practically myth and legend. Talking about love would cheapen the story and, in turn, further cheapen Yae Sakura. That was not something Hoshino wanted to see.
Like an observer, she calmly sketched out the story's outline, every word cold and detached.
The deity understood that perfectly well.
The miko had lived for a very long time. Personally experiencing events that became myths and legends—nothing was sadder than that.
Her younger sister had fallen ill and been offered to the gods as a sacrifice.
God, how long ago had that been? Even the ancient snow mountains of Kjerag would not use something as bloody and barbaric as human sacrifice. It did nothing whatsoever for the faith gods required; it was nothing but self-indulgence.
The deity wanted to complain.
The elder sister, a miko, returned from outside and saw her younger sister's corpse. Her blood had already been drained, and all that remained was for her to complete the final ritual.
"Then what happened?"
The deity was completely hooked. She grew curious about this history that had already taken place, even forgetting to breathe, while Hoshino adjusted her pacing, unwilling to create the awkward situation of finishing the story before the character had been unlocked.
"Then? I slaughtered the village."
The deity's heart lurched. This was the first time the miko had used the first person, enough to show how deep her hatred ran, how it had not faded even after all this time.
The air filled with murderous intent.
"I walked into the shrine and raised my blade against the clay statue of the god. I wanted an explanation from her. Why had the gods allowed something like this to exist?"
"What did he say?"
"The god