Resonating Trust

She lowered her gaze to the white cloth in her hands. Carefully, she unfolded it again. A small wooden monkey—palm‑sized, smooth, carved as a netsuke—rested in her lap. Her lips lifted in a thin, involuntary smile before she hid it, wrapping the netsuke and tucking it back into the paper bag.

Her fingers found the charm she’d used during the practicum evaluation. The seams were frayed, torn, the spirit long gone. Her chest tightened beneath the sarashi. A reminder of failure. A reminder she couldn’t afford another. Remembering the night she bandaged Masaki made her jaw clench.

This trip wasn’t for her.

This was for Masaki.

Today, she had to convince a kodama to trust her.

If the spirit rejected her… Masaki would be less prepared for the world he was about to swear himself into. She couldn’t let that happen.

 - - -

She left the building and Matsumura greeted her again. “Before you face the willow, your spirit must be aligned.”

He guided her to the Harae hall. She sat in the middle and he circled her slowly, sprinkling salt in a ring around her. The grains should have fallen softly. Instead, the ground around the salt started to frost over. The priest’s brows started to knit.

He proceeded, lifted the sakaki wand and swept over her shoulders. The leaves trembled and the tips were frosted.

He stopped.

“Hanako,” His voice low,

“Your breath is uneven and your kyomei, resonance, is all over the place. Yukikaze is reacting to your bonno, defilement.”

Hanako tried to steady her breath but it sharpened when she heard the word defilement.

“Sensei…” Her voice was thin, almost like a whisper.

“I’m trying.”

“It’s not enough. Not for this.”

“I still need to do this for Masaki.”

“The sacred tree may reject you in this state. You can return on another date.”

“Is this why my other omamori are breaking? My defilement?”

“Likely, you are forcing your bonno and a typical charm will break under that stress.”

“Sensei, this isn’t something I can fix anytime soon and Masaki will need this very soon.”

“Then I cannot stop you.” He rose from his seat, setting aside the sakaki wand, “The sacred tree will see through you clearly.”

Hanako lowered her gaze, clutching the netsuke.

“I know.”

“Then go, whatever truth you carry. Let it be enough.”

Matsumaru led her toward the grove behind the temple in silence.

The lanterns lined the path and the evening grew colder with each step.

They arrived at the threshold of the grove, her mentor stopped at his tracks.

“The rest is on your own.” Matsumura lowered his gaze and backed away from the threshold.

Hanako was alone.

The willow of Tamayura stood beside the pond – a massive and ancient shimenawa wrapped around its trunk and shide draped along its branches fluttered without breeze. Offerings of rice, sake and folded white cranes lay at the base of the tree. The crescent moon reflected on the still pond.

Masaki, I wish you were here.

She took measured steps toward the offering stones and knelt, in seiza, in front. She placed the wrapped netsuke in her lap, hands trembling as she steadied her breath. She bowed her head.

She did not cross the boundary.

Not yet.

 The curtain-like shide and branches swayed without a wind; the rustling of the leaves sounded like a chorus of voices. The air around her shifted and she felt a gaze; she was accepted into its domain.

The rustling felt like a question, why she had come, what truth she carried.

It’s rejecting me already…

I’m not purified nor aligned. I’m not the right person to ask for this.

A ripple spread across the pond.

The willow branches dipped, as if they were leaning closer.

Matsumura’s warning echoed in her mind. “The sacred tree will see through you clearly.”

She felt her sarashi tightening her chest.

Masaki’s face rose in her thoughts. That unchanging steady calmness of his.

Even when she became the next Yukikaze, when everyone else stepped away from her, he stayed.

He never treated her like a monster.

He never treated her like a weapon.

He never treated her like anything but…

Her.

She reached for her sash, fingers brushing against where the black ribbon was. Sayuri said it’s her good luck charm for this month. Her bright warm smile eased her taut chest. For a moment her sarashi felt less like a restraint and more like a gentle embrace, steadying her.

Her voice came out small and shaking.

“I came … for your blessing. To protect someone.”

The leaves rustled again, not acceptance nor rejection.

The pressure in the air grew.

The truth.

Unexpectantly, another memory surfaced, the practicum. The moment she and Ryuji moved in tandem, no words exchanged, only instinct and trust. A bond born of necessity, not certainty. He was a mystery – ally or foe. She wasn’t sure. But in crisis they trusted each other to work their way through. A lingering, unsettling doubt remained but one thing came clear to her.

“Masaki is the one I trust. I just… I want him safe.”

The shide and leaves dipped lower, brushing against her head as if in quiet approval.

Hanako unwrapped the cloth to reveal the monkey carving. A single leaf drifted down,

landing on the netsuke. It dissolved into the wood, leaving a faint, warm glow.

A soft breeze touched her cheeks.

The rustling stopped. The branches were stilled.

The pressure in the air lifted.

When she blinked, the sacred tree stood exactly as it had before—silent, unmoving,

basking in the moonlight.

She took her time to collect herself and change back into her yukata. Matsumaru was kind enough to give her a space to walk alone after the ritual. She looked at the folded white cloth with a satisfied grin. She placed the netsuke in the paper bag.

Hope he will like it.

She stepped out of the misogi-ba. Matsumaru and Minami were waiting. No other escorts. Just the two men who knew her best in their own ways.

Minami glanced at her, a quick assessment, then bowed deeply.

“Did the ritual go well ojo-sama?”

“Yes, it did.” She could tell from the way he stood that he had more to say.

Minami glanced at the priest. “Kumicho would like you to return immediately for tomorrow morning’s meeting.”

Matsumaru’s expression soured, he too must have looked forward to catching up with her for the night. Especially how the meeting with the sacred tree went. She nodded at minami and bowed at Matsumaru.

“May you have safe travels back to Tokyo, Hanako-sama.” Matsumura bowed deeply in return, his voice warm with pride and regret.

Hanako and Minami bid farewell to the priest and walked down toward the readied car at the base of the shrine steps.

Minami checked the surroundings before approaching the vehicle. “Wanyudo-gumi and Yukihana-ikka had a skirmish in our shima.”

Hanako nodded in silence. She needed someone to investigate Minato further while keeping her and Masaki stay low, especially when she has yet identified the spy and its connection to Minato.

“Lieutenant Minami, I have a request. Can you keep this from Captain and my father until you have concrete evidence?”