After school.
Miroku couldn't go home.
The reason, of course, was the planning meeting for the Spring Grand Festival.
She'd tried to make her escape during lunch, but Himegashi had already locked in her schedule, and her homeroom teacher had also reminded her to participate.
Apparently, there had never been an escape route to begin with.
Life was harsh.
The meeting was being held in a large lecture hall in the special building at Shiramine Academy.
The room was normally used for joint classes in ritual ceremonies and the history of the ritual exorcists, but today the desks had been pushed to the sides and replaced with rows of long tables.
A schedule counting down to the Spring Grand Festival was written on the blackboard. A floor plan of the area around the Imperial Palace covered one wall. Thick stacks of documents sat on the tables.
Just looking at it made her tired.
Miroku stopped at the entrance.
“Can I go home?”
“What are you saying before we’ve even gone in?”
Himegashi shoved her from behind.
“It hasn’t started yet. I can still make it.”
“Make what?”
“My shift.”
“Give it up.”
How heartless.
A large number of students had already gathered in the lecture hall.
Upperclassmen from the ritual exorcist program. Students specializing in ceremonial rites. Attendants selected from the various prestigious families. And this time, candidates participating in the offering dance.
Shiramine Academy was a school for training people with an aptitude for being practitioners.
Along with general subjects, they studied ceremonial rites, sorcery, barrier techniques, the history of the ritual exorcists, and methods for dealing with inhuman beings. Many went on to serve as ritual exorcists or practitioners for the various families after graduation.
When it came to the Spring Grand Festival, the academy itself became one large source of personnel.
And among them—
“Oh.”
There was a familiar face.
Her younger sister.
Since they attended the same Shiramine Academy, of course she would be there. Still, their grades and school buildings were different, so they had surprisingly few chances to run into each other on campus.
Her younger sister was checking documents detailing the stage layout with several other female students.
She noticed them and looked up.
“Sister.”
“Good work.”
“You actually came.”
“What’s with that phrasing?”
“I thought you’d run away.”
“How rude.”
Since she had, in fact, been trying to run away, she couldn't argue too strongly.
Her younger sister's gaze shifted past Miroku.
Himeuo, Himegashi, Yozuru, Shigure, and Miyabi.
Yoshitsune entered the lecture hall a moment later.
At that instant, her younger sister's expression changed ever so slightly.
It was such a tiny change that only Miroku, who had lived with her for so many years, would have noticed. Her back straightened, and she adjusted the documents in her hands.
“Lord Kayō.”
“Good work.”
Yoshitsune was the same as always.
He smiled gently, just as he did with everyone.
“Is dance practice tough?”
“Yes. But I’ll do my best not to cause everyone any trouble.”
“Don’t push yourself.”
“Thank you.”
That was the entire conversation.
Her younger sister looked happy.
Yoshitsune was kind to everyone, as usual.
As far as Miroku was concerned, it would be convenient if the two of them worked out like this.
Her younger sister was Yoshitsune’s bondmate candidate.
Yoshitsune was the next Emperor.
And Miroku was a candidate to become her younger sister and Yoshitsune’s aide.
That was how everyone around them had viewed the arrangement for years.
Miroku herself had never found anything particularly strange about it.
Her younger sister would take her place beside Yoshitsune, and Miroku would support them.
Although.
Miroku was planning to quit even that support role.
“What’s with that face?”
Miyabi asked her.
“What about it?”
“You look like this has nothing to do with you.”
“It doesn’t.”
“The Kannagi family is involved too.”
“My sister can handle it.”
“You should handle it too.”
Even Shigure was giving her a reasonable answer for once.
Miroku pretended she hadn’t heard.
The planning meeting began.
The Spring Grand Festival.
It was one of the four seasonal grand festivals conducted by the Emperor, a festival celebrating the arrival of spring and peace throughout the year while praying to the gods for the nation's tranquility.
The festival itself lasted several days.
The first day consisted of ritual purification and exorcism.
From the second day onward, the various families presented offerings, performed court music and dance, held horseback archery demonstrations, and presented sacred food. On the final day, the Emperor conducted the grand festival ceremony.
There were many areas where ordinary people were permitted to attend, and during the festival, even the streets around the Imperial Palace were wrapped in a festive atmosphere.
However.
From the perspective of those running the festival, it was hardly an elegant affair.
Preparing the festival grounds.
Directing attendees.
Managing the ritual implements.
Maintaining the barriers.
Watching for inhuman beings.
Assisting the ritual exorcists.
The list went on forever.
Behind every glittering festival stood a massive number of people needed to make it happen.
Students from Shiramine Academy took on part of that burden every year.
Miroku flipped through the documents she had been given.
She searched for her name.
There it was.
Miroku Kannagi—assistance with patrols inside the festival grounds, checking ritual implements, and responding to emergencies.
Every assignment was awful.
In other words:
If something happens, get to work.
That was what it said.
Shigure, sitting beside her, leaned over to look at the documents.
“What’d you get?”
“Miscellaneous errands.”
“I’m assisting with security.”
“Sounds about the same.”
“Don’t lump us together.”
Yozuru was assisting with the barriers around the festival grounds.
Miyabi was assisting with the ceremonial proceedings.
Himeuo and Himegashi were also involved in their respective families’ offerings, so they had been assigned separately from the ordinary attendants.
The Five Great Elder Houses each participated in the grand festival in a different way.
Some families handled the ritual implements and court music and dance.
Some offered martial arts demonstrations.
Some were responsible for barriers and protection.
The roles passed down from ancient times had not changed much even in the modern era.
As for Yoshitsune, his role didn’t even need to be written in the documents.
He was the next Emperor.
He wasn’t one of the people supporting the festival. He was someone who would eventually conduct it.
Thinking about it again, Miroku found it remarkable that she had become childhood friends with someone from such a distant position.
At five years old, she hadn’t thought about anything like that.
They had simply played together.
Fought.
Gotten scolded.
Before she knew it, more than ten years had passed.
“Kannagi.”
The teacher’s voice came flying at her.
“Are you listening?”
“I’m listening.”
“Then what is your patrol area this year?”
Miroku lowered her eyes to the documents.
“…The east side?”
“The west.”
“Close.”
“Not even remotely.”
Laughter broke out around them.
The teacher pressed a hand to his forehead as if fighting off a headache.
“Please, just take it seriously on the day of the festival.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“Don’t do your best. Do it.”
She couldn’t promise that.
Still, once the festival began, Miroku would do her job.
She thought it was a pain.
She wanted to run away.
Even so, it would leave a far worse taste in her mouth if someone got hurt because she had slacked off.
In the end.
That was simply the kind of person she was.
The meeting ran fifteen minutes longer than scheduled.
To Miroku, that was a serious problem.
The moment the closing remarks ended, she shoved the documents into her bag.
“Later.”
She stood up.
“You’re leaving?”
Himeuo asked.
“My shift.”
“Right now?”
“Right now.”
“You’re busy.”
“Money doesn’t grow if you don’t work.”
An obvious truth.
Shigure looked at Miroku with bewilderment.
“Do you really need that much money?”
“I need it.”
“The Kannagi family is pretty rich, isn’t it?”
“The family’s money is the family’s money. My money is my money.”
“Oh…”
For some reason, he sounded impressed.
Miyabi looked exasperated.
“What if you put that determination toward your studies?”
“No.”
“Don’t answer so fast.”
Miroku slung her bag over her shoulder.
“Well, see you tomorrow.”
She raised a hand.
Himeuo waved back, and Shigure followed with a “Good work.”
Himegashi reminded her, “Don’t forget tomorrow’s documents.”
“If I remember.”
“You’re definitely going to forget, aren’t you?”
Pretending not to hear, Miroku left the lecture hall.
Once she left school, Miroku had her own life.
Time unrelated to the Kannagi family, the ritual exorcists, or her childhood friends.
Miroku herself considered that perfectly normal.
She shoved her gym clothes into a station locker, transferred trains, and traveled several stops.
Unlike the area around Shiramine Academy, the neighborhood in front of the station was lined with large shopping complexes and restaurants, and the evening streets were crowded with office workers heading home and students.
Miroku liked this jumble of an atmosphere.
The ritual exorcists.
The Five Great Elder Houses.
The Emperor.
None of them meant much here.
No one bothered to care which family someone belonged to.
She waited for the light at a crosswalk.
Beside her, two people who looked like college students were discussing where to go drinking that night.
A parent and child walking ahead were talking about dinner.
An office worker staring at a smartphone.
An elementary school student heading to cram school.
An elderly person carrying shopping bags.
Ordinary people.
An ordinary day.
What Miroku wanted was probably something like this.
The light turned green.
She started walking with the flow of people.
No one knew Miroku Kannagi.
It felt good.
“Good morning.”
“Mornin’. Kannagi, you’re cutting it close today.”
“School ran late.”
“That’s unusual.”
“Against my will.”
She arrived at her part-time job twelve minutes before her shift began.
It was a small Western-style restaurant on the first floor of a mixed-use building.
Because it was close to the station, it was busy with nearby office workers at lunch and people stopping in after work at night.
It had around thirty seats.
She had started working there near the end of her first year of high school.
She changed out of her uniform into a black shirt and apron, then quickly tied back her hair.
She looked in the mirror.
No matter how you looked at her.
She was nothing more than an ordinary high school part-timer.
Good.
Very good.
“Kannagi.”
A voice came from outside the changing room.
“Yes?”
“Table five needs water.”
“Coming.”
She went out into the restaurant.
The atmosphere changed instantly.
The clink of dishes.
The voices of customers.
The sound of frying pans from the kitchen.
The smell of butter and meat in the air.
Miroku loaded water onto a tray and headed for table five.
“Sorry to keep you waiting.”
“Thank you.”
They were a middle-aged couple.
That was all.
No one told her to put up a barrier.
No one told her to pacify a god.
Or protect the Emperor.
Or work for the country.
All they wanted was for her to carry water.
Take orders.
Serve food.
Clear away the plates when people finished eating.
It was easy to understand.
Miroku liked that simplicity.
“Kannaagi! Order for table two!”
“Coming!”
The manager called to her from the kitchen.
At table two, two high school girls in uniform were studying the menu with serious expressions.
“Have you decided?”
“Oh, sorry. Which one is bigger, this or this?”
“The hamburger steak.”
“Then I’ll get the hamburger steak.”
“Me too.”
“What sauce?”
“Oh, wait. What should I do?”
They began agonizing over it again.
Miroku waited without rushing them.
At school, they had been discussing things like the national sacred rites and the next Emperor.
Now, the serious debate taking place in front of her was whether to choose demi-glace or Japanese grated-daikon sauce.
It was peaceful.
She really hoped it would stay that way.
Around seven in the evening, the restaurant suddenly became much busier.
Groups of office workers.
Families.
People dining alone.
The tables filled one after another.
Miroku carried out dishes, cleared empty plates, and ran to the register.
“Omurice for table seven!”
“It’s in!”
“Table three is ready to pay!”
“Got it!”
It was busy.
But she didn’t dislike it.
The more she moved, the more time passed.
It kept her from thinking about unnecessary things.
More importantly, every hour she worked went straight into her paycheck.
Wonderful.
“Kannagi, take your break.”
At the manager’s words, Miroku checked the clock.
It was almost eight before she knew it.
“Okay.”
She retreated to the back room and sat down in a chair.
“I’m tired…”
“That’s not a sound a high schooler should be making.”
The college-aged woman sitting across from her laughed.
She was a senior coworker who had been working there for a long time.
“You had school today, right?”
“I did.”
“And then you came to work? That’s impressive.”
“I want money.”
“Can’t argue with that.”
The woman opened the lid of a pudding she had bought at a convenience store.
“What are you going to use it for?”
“Moving out.”
“What?”
“Eventually.”
“You scared me. I thought you weren’t going home tonight.”
“I’m going home tonight.”
“Then you’re saving up to live on your own?”
“Something like that.”
“After you go to college?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Where?”
“Somewhere far away.”
“That’s vague!”
She laughed.
Miroku smiled a little too.
Conversations like this were easy.
Her father.
Yoshitsune.
The Kannagi family.
Her coworker knew nothing about them.
Miroku didn’t need to explain anything.
“What about you?”
“Me?”
“After graduation.”
“I haven’t decided yet. I don’t want to job hunt.”
“I understand.”
“That’s not very comforting coming from a high schooler.”
“I want to live without working.”
“I understand that.”
They both nodded.
It was a highly productive conversation.
The senior coworker took a bite of pudding, then looked at Miroku.
“But Kannagi, you’re pretty serious, all things considered.”
“What makes you say that?”
“You never skip a shift, and you do your job properly.”
“It’s for the money.”
“Sure, sure.”
She clearly didn’t believe her.
Miroku drank from a plastic bottle of water.
“And another thing…”
Her senior coworker continued.
“You sometimes stare into the distance like you’re seeing something really far away.”
“Presbyopia?”
“At sixteen?”
“Then it’s your imagination.”
“I’m saying, if something’s bothering you, I’ll listen.”
Miroku fell silent for just a moment.
I died two years from now.
I was falsely accused.
Before I knew it, I’d returned to two years earlier.
My father is hiding something.
Something went wrong with the tower sealing the god.
If she told her that, the best she could hope for was a recommendation to see a doctor.
“I’m fine.”
So Miroku smiled.
“Nothing’s really going on.”
“Okay.”
Her senior coworker didn’t ask any further.
Miroku was grateful.
Before closing.
The restaurant had finally begun to quiet down.
The last customer paid, then left through the ringing doorbell.
“Thank you very much.”
Miroku bowed.
The door closed.
Silence returned to the restaurant.
Miroku cleared the remaining glasses and wiped down the tables.
Today.
She hadn’t encountered a supernatural anomaly.
No god had appeared.
No one had died.
She had gone to school.
Attended the planning meeting for the Spring Grand Festival.
Listened to her younger sister talk about dance.
Chatted about stupid things with her friends.
Worked a normal shift.
That was all.
Miroku wrung out the cleaning cloth.
Maybe it was because she had died once.
A day this ordinary seemed just a little more precious than it had before.
“Kannagi, you can clock out.”
“Okay.”
She checked the clock.
Ten o’clock.
Another day had ended safely.
That alone was enough.
While changing in the dressing room, Miroku checked her smartphone.
She had several notifications.
One from her younger sister.
A flood from the childhood-friends group chat.
And a notice from school about the Spring Grand Festival.
She opened the group chat.
Apparently, Shigure had somehow burned a restraint talisman during practice, and dozens of photos capturing the moment had been sent around.
Yozuru had even taken the trouble to edit them.
“Ten Days Until the Spring Grand Festival: Will Shigure Takamatsu Survive?”
It even had absurdly elegant calligraphy.
“What the hell are these idiots doing…?”
She couldn't help laughing.
Shigure himself had been sending messages in rapid succession:
“Delete them!!!”
Himeuo tried to calm him down, Miyabi dismissed it with “Serves you right,” and Himegashi sent the perfectly reasonable question, “Why were you burning a restraint talisman in the first place?”
Apparently, things were just as usual even when she wasn't around.
Miroku stared at the screen for a while, then closed it.
She checked her younger sister’s message too.
“I’m practicing the dance again tomorrow morning. Don’t complain when I wake you up.”
“No.”
She answered immediately in the empty changing room.
She marked the message as read and put her smartphone away in her bag.
When she left the restaurant, the night breeze brushed her cheek.
It was cold, as if the warmth of the day had been a lie.
She joined the flow of people heading toward the station.
No one was looking at her.
No one knew she was the daughter of the Kannagi family.
Or what she could do as a ritual exorcist.
Or that she was a candidate to become the next Emperor’s aide.
Or that she had been prophesied to die at eighteen.
No one here knew.
And that was fine.
More than fine, actually.
Every hour she had worked today brought her a little closer to the day she could leave home.
She wouldn’t inherit the Kannagi family.
She would quit the ritual exorcists.
She would become an ordinary civilian.
The spring of her sixteenth year.
She still had two years.
“…All right.”
She murmured it softly and started walking toward the station.
She had school tomorrow too.
Her younger sister would practice her dance from the morning onward.
Preparations for the Spring Grand Festival would continue.
She would go to work.
These perfectly ordinary days.
This time.
She wanted them to last as long as possible.