Training Interrupted by a Demon

Ayaka sat cross-legged in the courtyard, her ceremonial sleeves spread out like she actually knew what she was doing.

Kitsura, her ever-present spirit companion, floated nearby with arms folded. “Focus. Channel your breath. Feel the divine energy flow through you—”

“I am focusing!” Ayaka huffed, cheeks puffed like a squirrel. “Can’t you tell? I’m radiating maidenly vibes right now!”

Kitsura tilted his head, unimpressed. “You look like you’re about to sneeze.”

Ayaka squinted, straining as if sheer willpower would summon sacred energy. A faint spark flickered at her fingertips.

“Oh! Oh! Did you see that?”

“Yes. Congratulations, you’ve mastered static electricity.”

Before Ayaka could snap back, a slow, sarcastic clap echoed across the courtyard.

“Bravo. Truly divine. I’ve never seen anyone fail so spectacularly at sitting still.”

Ayaka’s shoulders stiffened. She didn’t even need to look—only one person would heckle her training like it was a comedy act.

The demon lounged against the shrine wall, legs crossed, a casual grin plastered across his face.

“You again?!” Ayaka shouted, pointing accusingly.

He waved lazily. “What can I say? I was bored. And your shrine has great entertainment value. The last maiden who trained here? Radiant, graceful, inspiring. You?” He tilted his head, smirking. “More like a pigeon trying to do yoga.”

Ayaka flushed crimson. “S-stop comparing me to birds!”

Kitsura bristled, voice firm. “Leave. You don’t belong here, demon.”

The demon chuckled and strolled closer, hands tucked into his coat pockets. “Relax, I’m not here to cause trouble. Yet. Think of me as… an audience member. Or maybe a critic.”

“Critics are supposed to be constructive,” Ayaka snapped.

“Fine,” he said, crouching so their eyes met. His tone dropped into something mockingly earnest. “Here’s some advice: if you want to be taken seriously as a shrine maiden… stop tripping over your own sleeves.”

Ayaka smacked her forehead. “That’s not advice, that’s bullying!”

The demon burst into laughter, sharp and bright, echoing against the courtyard stones.

But then, just as quickly, the laughter cut off. His smile remained, but his eyes—those gleaming red eyes—narrowed into something darker.

“Still,” he murmured, voice low. “It’s fascinating. A clumsy maiden born into the greatest bloodline… It’ll be fun to see what you become.”

Ayaka blinked, unsettled. For a heartbeat, the playful trickster was gone, replaced by something predatory.

And then he straightened, grin back in place. “Well! Don’t disappoint me too much, little shrine girl. I’ll be watching.”

With a flourish of his coat, he vanished into thin air—leaving behind only the faint smell of smoke.

Ayaka sat frozen for a long moment.

“…Kitsura?” she whispered.

“Yes?”

“…Did I just get insulted… or recruited?”

Kitsura sighed. “Both. Which is worse, I haven’t decided.”

Ayaka slumped forward, burying her face in her sleeves. “Ughhh, why is my life like this?!”