The Evening The Shrine Felt Less Lonely

Mutsuki surfaced from sleep slowly, the kind of thick, warm drowsiness where reality felt like a distant dream. Something soft brushed his cheek. A fingertip. Gentle, feather-light. Cool from the shade, tracing along the doodles the children had drawn on his skin.

A quiet voice floated through the still, warm air.

‘Sensei… wake up.’

His eyebrows twitched. His eyes fluttered open.

The first thing he saw was Youchan’s face leaning over him. Luminous in the fading sunlight, framed by swaying sakura branches. Long lashes, calm dark eyes, a serene expression, and a faint blush blooming on her cheeks as she realized he was awake and staring directly at her.

But she didn’t pull her hand away immediately. Her palm stayed against his cheek for another heartbeat, almost unconsciously, as if confirming he was truly there. Only then did she straighten, folding her hands neatly in her lap.

‘You slept very soundly,’ she murmured. ‘I… didn’t want to wake you too abruptly.’

Mutsuki sat up groggily. Papers crinkled. Dozens of taped drawings fluttered off his jacket. His dress rustled under the weight of kid-made crafts lovingly glued all over him. The courtyard smelled of sakura, grass, and the faint tang of paint and ink.

He lifted a hand to his face. Something felt wrong. He froze.

‘…What’s on my face?’

Youchan was polite, but she couldn’t hide the smile tugging at her lips.

‘Whiskers,’ she answered gently. ‘Pink ones.’

He shot to his feet, suddenly wide awake, and bolted toward the shrine basin.

‘No, no, no…’

He splashed water on his cheeks. Rubbed. Scrubbed. The whiskers glowed stubbornly back at him from the reflection.

‘WHY WON’T IT COME OFF?!’

Youchan approached delicately, sleeves gathered so they wouldn’t get wet.

‘Ah… they used Tanuki–Kitsune–Kappa collaborative ink,’ she said, almost apologetically. ‘It’s very durable.’

He stared at her in horror.

‘How long is “durable”?’

‘Three days. One for each kind of magic…’

Mutsuki dropped to his knees. ‘I’m doomed.’

She knelt beside him, giggling softly, and offered a pristine handkerchief embroidered with tiny sakura.

‘Here,’ she whispered. ‘At least dry your face.’

He took it, fingers brushing hers. The simple contact steadied him more than the cloth did.

‘Th… thank you.’

‘Of course.’

He dabbed at his face, then finally looked around.

‘Wait… where are the kids?’

‘Their families picked them up,’ Youchan said softly. ‘I handled dismissal so you could rest.’

He froze.

‘You mean… parents saw me? Like this?!’

‘Possibly.’

‘Possibly?!’

‘One or two,’ she said with a teasing tilt of her head, ‘found it… charming.’

He covered his face with the handkerchief. ‘I’m going to die.’

‘No,’ she corrected, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. ‘You’re just… approachable.’

He peeked at her between his fingers. ‘Approachably humiliated.’

‘Approachably soft.’

That stopped him cold. He could almost swear he’d had a half-dream earlier where Youchan said she liked ‘soft’ people.

‘Mmm… that’s me,’ he muttered without thinking. ‘I can be soft… with the right person.’

Youchan blinked rapidly. Once in surprise at her own choice of words, and again at his answer. They stared at each other, neither daring to breathe too loudly. A breeze rose, lifting sakura petals around them in a slow swirl of pink. From the pond came the soft trickle of water and the lazy drift of koi. Somewhere, the shrine bell chimed a faint, distant note.

Youchan gathered herself first and rose gracefully, smoothing her sleeves.

‘Come,’ she said gently. ‘Before night falls, we need to reinforce the shrine’s defenses. You promised to help.’

He pushed himself up, tucking the handkerchief into a pocket.

‘Right. I did.’

Youchan led him to the first stone pillar at the edge of the inner grounds. The barrier around it hummed faintly. Dim, tired, like an old lantern starving for oil.

She pressed her hand against the weathered stone. Mutsuki placed his beside hers, close enough that he could feel the warmth of her skin through the faint buzz of magic.

‘We begin with synchronization,’ she murmured. ‘Breathe with me.’

Her calm, even tone cut through the leftover panic from his whisker crisis. He drew in a slow breath. She matched it. Their exhale left in near-perfect unison. Silver magic stirred at his fingertips, mingling with the soft, blue-green shimmer of hers. The pillar responded with a low glow, light slowly threading up its length like veins awakening.

‘You’re good at this,’ he said quietly.

‘Thank you. I’ve tended this shrine since I could walk,’ she replied. ‘My mother taught me. And her mother before her.’

‘A long tradition.’

‘A heavy one,’ she admitted. ‘But… I don’t mind being needed.’

Silence settled, comfortable and humming with power. 

Then she added, with a small sideways glance, ‘For someone who was “just helping me out,” you seem more adept with barrier work than some priests who’ve done this for years, Sensei.’

He let out a soft huff. ‘Genius. Remember?’

‘Oh, of course.’ Her lips curved. ‘Excuse my incompetence, Sensei.’

‘No, no, as you were. You’re doing amazingly, my disciple.’

Their shared laugh rippled through the barrier. Their combined magic flowed further outward, invisible threads weaving into the shrine’s wards. For a moment, there was only the glow of the pillar and the quiet sound of their breathing. Then Mutsuki broke the silence.

‘Do you also do this for other shrines? Other temples? Other magical sites?’

‘Yes,’ Youchan said. ‘But I can only move from one place to the other via the portal. I am to stay within sacred grounds at all times to keep them safe.’

Mutsuki glanced at her profile, the way the fading light caught the strands of her hair.

‘Does that mean you can’t leave the shrines?’

She hesitated.

‘It is a choice,’ she said finally. ‘If I stay, the shrine remains strong. If I leave… its magic weakens.’

‘That sounds like being trapped.’

‘Bound,’ she corrected quietly. ‘But willingly.’

He watched her. The small, serene smile on her lips looked practiced — and just a little lonely.

‘I ran from my own duty,’ he murmured.

‘I know,’ she said, without judgment.

‘Does that make you think less of me?’

Her answer was immediate.

‘No. It makes you human.’

The words landed in his chest like a soft punch. His magic shifted in response. Gentler in tone, but stronger in output. The barrier pulsed brighter, light spreading in a confident ring.

They moved on to the next pillar, their footsteps naturally falling in sync. Twilight deepened above them, streaking the sky with indigo and warm gold. Birds settled into the treetops. Crickets began to test their evening chorus. The world around them faded into background.

‘How long have you worked in this shrine in particular?’ Mutsuki asked.

‘All my life,’ Youchan replied. ‘This shrine… is my entire world.’

‘That’s sad,’ he said before he could stop himself.

She laughed, soft and light. ‘It is home. And you? You’ve seen so much outside.’

‘It felt huge at first,’ he admitted. ‘When I was onstage… when people cheered… I could breathe.’

‘And now?’

He watched the light dim between tree branches.

‘Now,’ he said slowly, ‘I’m learning to breath differently.’

Their hands brushed. Neither of them moved away.

‘Youchan,’ he asked, ‘do you ever want to see what’s outside?’

Her step faltered a fraction.

‘…Maybe,’ she whispered.

‘That sounds like a yes.’

She blushed, looking away. ‘You ask difficult questions, Sensei.’

‘You answer them beautifully.’

This time, it was Youchan’s heart that misfired. She almost missed the next stone.

At the last barrier pillar, she placed her hand on the cool surface. He followed, his palm landing momentarily atop hers before he flinched back, fingers sliding to rest beside hers instead.

Her breath hitched. His heart skipped to match.

‘Your magic feels… gentle,’ she said softly, almost like a confession.

‘Probably your influence,’ he replied.

The barrier responded with a strong, steady glow. Their magic were compatible, as if made for each other.

‘There,’ she whispered. ‘It’s done.’

But neither of them moved their hand.

One breath. Two. Three.

Eventually, Mutsuki cleared his throat and stepped back, rubbing the back of his neck.

‘So… since the kids are gone and the barrier’s done… maybe you’d… like dinner? With me?’ he asked, uncharacteristically direct.

Despite his feminine clothes and glamoured features, Mutsuki’s heart in that moment was nothing but bluntly, stupidly masculine.

Youchan’s eyes widened. For an instant, her expression was so open. So unguarded and longing, that his pulse actually stumbled. Then she composed herself, lashes lowering as she spoke.

‘I can’t leave the shrine after dusk,’ she said gently.

‘Is it a rule?’

‘My choice,’ she answered. ‘The shrine is weakest after sundown. If I leave then, it becomes vulnerable.’

He swallowed. ‘You’re selfless.’

‘Responsible,’ she corrected softly.

‘Then… another time?’ he asked, hope threading through his voice.

She looked up, cheeks tinged pink.

‘I’d like that,’ she admitted, barely above a whisper. ‘Very much.’

She hesitated, then added, even softer, ‘But… if you’d like company on another night, I can prepare a meal here. You don’t have to eat alone.’

His breath caught. ‘Youchan… I’d love that.’

She ducked her head, flustered and pleased in equal measure. An action that made Mutsuki giggle.

‘Tonight I still have work to finish,’ she confessed, ‘but… I’d like to eat together another day.’

Mutsuki fought the irrational urge to dispel his glamour and show up as himself in that very moment, to see how she’d look at him then. But underneath that impulse lay a quieter fear. That his full, uncontrolled magic might hurt her.

‘Yes,’ he said instead, swallowing his impatience. ‘Let’s find a time that works best for us.’

If he could, he’d run down the mountain, buy out an entire restaurant, and teleport the feast back just for her. For now, he settled for walking beside her.

They made their way toward the torii at a very unhurried pace. The path wasn’t long, but the silence between them had turned soft and warm, like a shared blanket in the cold.

The air was cooler now. Petals drifted lazily down. The shrines, lanterns, and trees all seemed to watch them, quietly approving.

At the gate, Mutsuki stopped.

‘Um… Youchan?’

‘Yes?’

He shifted his weight, suddenly nervous.

‘Can… I have your number? For lesson planning. Kids emergency. And barrier stuff. And… maybe dinner here. And—’

She handed him her phone before he could finish, eyes pointedly focused anywhere but his face.

‘Here,’ she said. ‘But no messages past midnight. I might worry.’

‘Worry about what?’

Her response was barely a breath. ‘About something happening to you.’

His heart thudded hard enough that he wondered if she could hear it.

‘Goodnight, Sensei,’ she whispered.

‘Goodnight… Youchan,’ he replied, reluctantly turning away.

She watched his figure grow smaller down the stone steps, pale hair and pink whiskers fading into the deepening blue of evening.

Only when he vanished from sight did she lift trembling fingers to her lips, a shy smile blooming there.

She was flustered, hopeful, and very, very doomed.