Beyond its main buildings, Fushimi Inari Taisha was best known for the thousands of vermilion torii gates that lined the path up the mountain. The full route stretched roughly four kilometers and took two to three hours to walk there and back, and the Senbon Torii had even appeared in films.
Old gates faded toward deep crimson stood packed among newer ones painted in brilliant orange-red. Sunlight slipped through the narrow gaps between them, turning the whole passage into something breathtaking.
In the photos Ken had sent, dusk had already settled over the shrine. Red lanterns glowed like sparks beneath the darkening sky, casting the torii in warm light. Walking through them seemed less like sightseeing and more like a pilgrimage, surrounded by a weight of history no modern city could imitate.
To reach the shrine, they had to cross the railroad tracks. The quiet lane, the wooden houses that had nearly vanished from Tokyo, the clear blue sky, and the students cycling past with their bells chiming made the neighborhood look like a scene from a manga.
Its popularity was obvious the moment they arrived. Trains brought a steady flow of visitors from all over Japan and abroad. Women in kimono were everywhere, though many of them were tourists who had rented them for the day. That only added to the atmosphere.
Food stalls and small restaurants lined the road from the crossing to the shrine. Many cooked right out front. At the eel shops, customers could watch the entire process as the fish was grilled over charcoal, brushed with sauce, and grilled again. The breeze carried the aroma far down the street.
This was where Uncle Ken had made his new home.
The neighborhood had Kyoto's calm without losing the energy of a tourist district. It suited a man his age, someone who had worked hard for years but was not quite ready to retire with a cup of tea in his hands.
After parking nearby, Satoru and Shino joined the crowd flowing out of Inari Station. This time, Satoru did not hesitate. He reached for her hand, though what he actually caught was her wrist.
More precisely, the sleeve of her down jacket.
"After dinner, let's come back when it's dark," he said, looking toward the shrine.
"Mm..."
Shino nodded.
Following the route Ken had given him, Satoru led her past one open restaurant after another. Finding the right place turned out not to be difficult.
A booming voice reached them from halfway down the street.
"Hey! Satoru! Over here!"
The shout trembled with the emotion of seeing family again.
Across the road stood a man in a white apron, his sleeves rolled all the way up to show off the biceps he was clearly proud of. He had also gotten a haircut, an odd style that made him look like a schoolboy from the Showa era.
"Can you see me? Right here!" Ken yelled again.
"I see you! I see you!" Satoru shouted back before any more people could turn and stare.
In truth, he could barely make out his uncle from that distance. His eyesight was not terrible, but years spent staring at a computer screen while working as a game booster had taken their toll.
Ken had no such problem. His eyesight was exceptional. While Satoru could only see his silhouette, Ken had already spotted him.
And the girl being led along behind him.
Ken froze.
Emotions raced across his face before settling into a bizarre mix of pride and sheer disbelief.
Holding hands meant they were close.
Bringing her here meant it was serious.
She was blushing.
Was this... a meeting with the family?
A dozen conclusions struck him at once.
Ken was loud, blunt, and fiercely protective of his nephew. When the rest of the family had tried to pass responsibility around, he had been the one to take Satoru in. Granted, Satoru sometimes suspected that his uncle was simply a hopeless sister complex who loved his nephew by association.
Still, the boy had grown up.
Ken looked as proud as he did heartbroken.
"Well, look at you! You even brought a girl home! So you do know how to keep the family line going!"
Naturally, he bellowed the entire thing for the whole street to hear.
The crowd went still for a beat, then broke into suppressed laughter. Friendly, curious glances turned toward Satoru and Shino.
Satoru's face went rigid.
Shino had already vanished into his shadow, her face burning red. He was not the only one with pride to protect.
He hurried across the street with Shino in tow, ready to tear into the grinning fool.
Someone beat him to it.
"What are you shouting for?! I told you to wait outside for your nephew, not announce his love life to the whole street! And what's this about a girl and carrying on the family line? Ken Suzuki, have you been flirting with the younger Mita girl next door again?!"
If Ken's voice had been loud, this one shook the air. By the end of the sentence, it carried enough killing intent to make even a survivor of SAO flinch.
Ken went pale.
His entire face screamed, I didn't! It wasn't me!
A woman swept out of the restaurant behind him.
With that roar and her hands planted firmly on her hips, Satoru could have sworn he was back on Aincrad's Sixty-fourth Floor, facing a murderous tigress.
Except she was beautiful.
Even while staring at Ken like a wolf sizing up a helpless rabbit, she was beautiful.
No, she was stunning.
The woman who had reduced Ken, a hardened twenty-five-year-old who liked to claim he had "learned the meaning of sorrow," to complete submission was nothing like the hulking terror Satoru had imagined.
She had glossy hair that fell to her waist, fine brows, and gentle eyes. When she smiled, she looked like a celestial maiden from an old folktale. Even her thick white sweater could not hide her graceful figure. Beneath her long skirt, a glimpse of black tights drew the eye.
Ninety-two, sixty, eighty-eight.
Terrifying numbers.
For the record, Satoru could not determine a woman's measurements at a glance. Ken had supplied that information back when he still had no idea what kind of woman he was dealing with.
"Misa Wakaba lost her parents when she was young and inherited the family restaurant," Ken had once explained. "She's an incredible cook, and everything about her seemed perfect. I'm telling you, the first time I saw her, especially after estimating her measurements, I decided I was getting a job at her restaurant no matter what!"
One can of beer later, he had looked ready to cry.
"But I had no idea how terrifying she was! What's the word... Right, a yandere! No, scratch that. There's no dere. Only yan! Three times a day, I have a kitchen knife pointed at me. A real kitchen knife! If I so much as talk to the younger Mita girl next door, she drags me away like a corpse. And whenever I serve a female customer, I can feel her staring daggers into my back!"
Then he had raised both hands in triumph.
"So I escaped! All under the noble pretext of rescuing my nephew!"
So Ken had not been worried about his nephew at all.
He had been worried about his own survival.
Satoru had listened to the rant and quietly taken another drag from his cigarette.
"Ah, a world without Misa! So vast! So free!"
Unfortunately for him, one phone call from Satoru had brought that world to an end. Just as Ken had predicted, Misa had dragged him onto a train like a corpse.
Now, standing before her again, he seemed to shrink to a tenth of his size.
"I was just meeting my nephew! Look, there he is! He even brought his girlfriend!"
Ken pointed desperately at Satoru.
Misa turned.
Whether it was Satoru's imagination or not, the darkness around her vanished the instant she faced him, replaced by a warm, elegant smile.
"Oh, it really is Satoru. Thank you again for what you did last time."
Even her voice had changed. The thunderclap from moments ago was gone, replaced by a clear, gentle tone that seemed to belong to an entirely different woman.
"Uh, right. Hello... Aunt Misa?"
Unable to think of anything better, Satoru went with the obvious choice.
Her smile brightened.
"Oh my, that's a little embarrassing. Ken and I aren't married yet."
She covered her mouth with one hand and laughed softly, every gesture perfectly graceful.
Behind her, Ken opened his mouth as if he meant to resist his fate. Then his face went gray, and he thought better of it.
"But we will be soon. Isn't that right, Ken?"
The shadows returned to her face, and her voice turned cold.
Ken forced a smile more painful than tears.
"Yes, ma'am."
For some reason, Satoru felt a twinge of guilt.
"And who is this adorable girl?"
Misa turned back with another flawless smile and leaned closer to Shino.
"H-hello."
Still flushed from the scene outside, Shino peeked out from behind Satoru.
"I'm Shino Asada. I'm Suzuki-kun's... friend."
"What a lovely voice. You remind me of myself back in school. I was shy too. I can still remember sneaking glances at the boy who sat beside me."
Misa clasped her hands, then affectionately patted Shino's head.
"You never forget feelings like that. I'll be rooting for you."
Liar. You, shy? Demon of Inari.
Ken only moved his lips, making no sound at all, but Satoru managed to read them.
Then Misa, who had pulled Shino into an embrace, suddenly looked over her shoulder.
"Hm?"
How the hell did she hear that?
No, how did she see it?
Satoru jolted. For an instant, he could have sworn a Hannya mask had flashed across her face.
Both men stepped back.
"M-Misa," Ken said, his throat dry. "Why don't you take them inside? Didn't you start preparing everything hours ago?"
"That's right."
Misa nodded.
"I started as soon as Ken told me you were coming. You must be tired after the trip. Come inside. Dinner will be ready in just a moment."
She released Shino and hurried back into the restaurant with light, cheerful steps.
Satoru and Ken looked at each other.
"Uncle."
"...?"
"Stay alive."
"..."
"That was terrifying," Shino said, patting her chest.
"You could sense it too?" Ken sighed.
"Yes... Her chest was terrifying. I almost suffocated."
Shino sounded equal parts awed and envious.
"..."