This was going to be difficult.
Kiyo Seigan felt a headache coming on.
One of them, the great tengu, had vanished. Another had been driven mad by filth and disappeared, her fate unknown—though she was most likely dead as well.
Whatever happened, a journey had to be taken one step at a time, just as a meal had to be eaten one bite at a time.
For now, the most urgent matter was finding something to eat.
Kiyo Seigan looked out the window. It was already late.
The rose-colored sunset had melted into the deep blue sea, and the night wind stirred those two shades into something new. Fishing boats could be seen returning between sea and sunset, their crews singing as they came home, while cooking smoke rose from Konda Village.
Kiyono's Tofu Shop had closed for the day as well. After seeing off their final customers, the fox lady hung a lantern beneath the entrance to show that the old shop was closed. Work was over. It was time for dinner.
Dinner at Kiyono's Tofu Shop was never elaborate—only a few simple dishes.
As a believer in the God of Salt, Kiyo decided to observe the usual church custom and say grace before the meal.
He took the Salt Ruler from his pocket, pressed it solemnly against his chest, and assumed an expression of profound devotion. The sunset reflected in the lattice window and cast orange-gold light across his face, lending him an air of holiness and majesty.
"O great Saint Lia."
Kiyo Seigan spoke with utmost seriousness.
"Your devout believer calls upon your grace. From the bliss of heaven, guide us onward and bestow your blessing upon the faithful—now gimme some salt. I've got dinner to cook."
"Stop praying." Lia's lazy voice emerged from the Salt Ruler. Though Kiyo could not see her expression, he could practically feel her rolling her eyes. "How did I end up with a believer like you...?"
"Nothing to be done." Kiyo Seigan grinned shamelessly. "You're stuck with me for life."
You're stuck with me for life.
Lia fell noticeably silent.
"Mm..."
"What?" Kiyo Seigan stripped the outer leaves from a cabbage and washed it clean before chopping the scallions and garlic.
"...I sometimes think you lack even the most basic respect for your god," Lia said darkly. "Do you think I'm nothing more than a machine for making salt?"
What, the Salt-Making Princess?
"There's no need to sell yourself short," Kiyo Seigan replied solemnly. "Everyone is the same."
"What do you mean?"
"Miss Lumine is the Lumine® Hairdryer Princess—the machine that dries my hair," Kiyo teased. "And the fox lady is the Money-Printing Princess—she pays my wages..."
"What I mean," Lia interrupted, "is that you could rely on me more."
"I can handle things myself. If I ever really can't, then I'll pray to you."
Before Kiyo Seigan could finish, the Salt Ruler began to dissolve. Fine grains of salt scattered into the air, forming a thin mist that intertwined with the sunset and took on a dreamlike outline. The hem of a pure white summer dress emerged within it.
"I know how to pray too..."
Kiyo Seigan felt two cool hands slowly caress his cheeks.
Snow-white hair streamed through the night. Warm, slightly ticklish breath brushed his collarbone. Within that haze of salt, a girl as pure and fleeting as a summer dream leaned close to his face.
Her lips parted beside his ear.
"Would you like to try?"
...Kiyo Seigan no longer dared make another wisecrack.
Saint Lia really is terrifying, the young man thought.
"What kind of god acts like you?" Kiyo Seigan shook his head.
"Nothing to be done."
The girl formed from salt smiled.
"You're stuck with a god like me for life."
Kiyo Seigan turned his face away and refused to look at her.
"Enough joking." Lia watched his reaction and tilted her head, silver-white hair spilling over one shoulder. "You said you intend to write a letter to 'Narukami'?"
For some reason, Lia's voice plainly cooled at the mention of that subject. Was it his imagination? A gentle smile still rested on her lips.
She was always like this whenever faith—or another god—became involved.
"I'm only fulfilling a promise to an old friend." Kiyo Seigan smiled bitterly. "Narukami doesn't know me, and I don't know her. I'm merely going to try. It costs nothing, after all."
"Hah."
Lia's voice was calm.
"If this is a promise to an old friend, how can you be certain that this 'Narukami' was not once your friend as well? How can you be certain she was not once the god you worshiped?"
Kiyo Seigan froze. He blinked, his expression turning thoughtful.
Now that Lia mentioned it, she had a point. Perhaps it really was possible.
He had been trapped by an assumption. If Hanachirusato had once been his friend, then Narukami, who was Hanachirusato's friend in turn, might also have known him. He might even have worshiped Her Excellency Narukami in his former life.
Lia tilted her head. Her golden eyes betrayed no emotion, calmly reflecting Kiyo Seigan's face.
"So it is possible after all," she said softly.
Kiyo Seigan gave a faintly helpless smile.
But the person I once was is already gone.
What are you worried about?
Kiyo Seigan parted his lips to answer, but before he could utter a word, Lia seized him by the collar and pulled him close. He could see those brilliant eyes, clear as sunset, with flames dancing deep within them like a bonfire.
"Kiyo Seigan."
Her voice was soft.
"There is one thing you must remember."
"You are my believer, and I am your god." Lia stared directly into his eyes. "I met you two thousand seven hundred years ago. I was here first."
"If you want to write to her, then write. I do not care." Lia stood barefoot upon the tatami flooded by sunset, its golden glow dyeing her shadow orange. "Whether it is this so-called Narukami or the Blonde Usurper, Saint Lia is not worried."
"No one can take my believer from me."
Kiyo Seigan froze.
Something cool and soft touched his face. His lips felt slightly dry. When he pressed them together, he tasted salt—the clean, faintly astringent flavor of sea salt dried beneath the summer sun, with a lingering sweetness difficult to forget.
This was...
Before he could react, the girl swiftly dissolved. Her form scattered into grains of salt, then drew together again as the crystalline Salt Ruler.
"That was your god's blessing," Lia left him with one final sentence. "The first mark any god has left upon you."
...Kiyo Seigan instinctively touched his lips. The soft sensation had not yet faded. His mind had completely stalled, and it took him a long while to recover.
Only then did Kiyo Seigan understand with perfect clarity what it meant for Lia to be Saint Lia.
She was terrifying.
He blinked. Lia was already gone, though a small pile of salt remained scattered across the table. For all her complaints, she had still left him enough to cook with.
After a while, Lumine's dissatisfied and guileless voice came from upstairs. She had evidently grown tired of waiting.
"Is dinner ready? Is dinner ready? I'm hungry, I'm hungry."
...All she ever thought about was food!
Kiyo Seigan was still dazed. Only when the pot began bubbling over did he shake himself awake, add the salt with the prepared scallions and garlic, and simmer them in the stock.
...
Night had deepened.
White sakura drifted beyond the courtyard, falling through the moonlight until it was impossible to tell where the pale blossoms ended and the moon's radiance began.
"Are you sure you don't want to come inside and eat?" Kiyo Seigan handed the prepared food box to Hanachirusato and tilted his head. "Miko would probably like to see you."
"A departed soul should not linger too close to the world of the living."
Hanachirusato smiled. She raised her eyes toward the old shop with its red lanterns glowing beneath the eaves.
"Otherwise, when the time comes for me to leave, I will only find it harder to let go again."
"This is enough. I am already content."
The shrine maiden in the fox mask opened the food box. A thin veil of steam rose to meet her. Inside lay a plate of piping-hot Kiyono Tofu, with udon in rich broth beneath it. Warm steam dispersed into the night.
"Oh."
Hanachirusato's voice was filled with nostalgia. "Tofu. I ate this in the past as well. Whenever we held a karuta gathering, you always prepared dishes like these. We all loved them—especially Chiyo."
"But are there no sweets? I remember those being delicious too, especially with plum wine."
"Sorry." Kiyo Seigan's mouth twitched as he recalled the Dango Milk in his steamer, scorched as black as charcoal. "I may not have unlocked that talent yet."
"I see." Hanachirusato considered the matter, then suddenly said, "The memory of taste never disappears. Flavor is the shape a bond takes. If you cannot make those sweets now, perhaps it is only because you have yet to meet the person you are meant to meet."
"Profound." Kiyo Seigan shook his head. "Anyway, eat it while it's hot. Try my cooking."
"Would you turn around first?"
She pointed to her mask, looking slightly troubled. "Sorry. It is rather inconvenient."
Kiyo Seigan obediently turned his back.
He stole a glance from the corner of his eye. Hanachirusato lifted one edge of the mask, revealing a smooth and delicate profile. As she parted her lips, he caught sight of a small fang. She ate the fish tofu quietly, like a little fox hugging a dried fish between its paws.
"No peeking," she said.
Oh...
Kiyo Seigan had no choice but to turn away properly.
Stingy.
How mysterious. She wore a mask and would not even let him see what she looked like. Kiyo Seigan was quite curious about Hanachirusato's face.
What he did not know was that it was not her face she wished to hide from him, but something else.
Hanachirusato quietly bit into the Kiyono Tofu.
Just as she had said, whenever they once gathered to play karuta, Kiyono Raimei would prepare his best dishes. Everyone had still been there then. The plum wine left them pleasantly warm and tipsy; the tofu was soft and comforting.
Those flavors had been the shape of memory.
"Well?" Kiyo Seigan asked expectantly with his back still turned. "I'm a pretty good cook, aren't I?"
"Mm. It's delicious." Hanachirusato nodded. Her voice dropped to a murmur. "Delicious."
"Good." Kiyo Seigan sounded pleased.
Idiot.
How could a departed soul taste anything?
For the dead, even precious memories slowly faded along with their flavors.
When the tofu entered her mouth, all she swallowed was cold, deathly emptiness. In that moment, the fact of her own death became clearer than ever.
Tofu was no longer hers. Gatherings were no longer hers. Hanachirusato did not fear death. The only thing she feared was standing so close to the world of the living...
And being forever unable to touch it.
No one would ever understand her again.
Even so, Hanachirusato said it was delicious. She did not want Kiyo Seigan to be disappointed. She did not want her friend to be sad, even though she could no longer share the same memories and flavors with him.
"It really is delicious." Hanachirusato smiled, though sorrow lay within her eyes. She had asked Kiyo to turn away because she did not want him to see that sorrow. Forcing a sincere smile into her voice, she said, "I truly am content."
"I didn't put any salt in yours," Kiyo Seigan suddenly said. "No seasoning at all."
"...What?" Hanachirusato froze.
"Do you think I'm an idiot?" Kiyo Seigan smiled. "That I'm so easy to fool? Don't underestimate me. I have dealt with departed souls before."
"Then you...?"
"Incidentally," Kiyo Seigan interrupted, raising the food box in his own hands, "I didn't put any seasoning in mine either."
He had prepared several portions of tofu. Only those left inside for Lumine and the others had been properly seasoned.
He picked up a piece of tofu, put it into his mouth, and chewed. The bland, tasteless thing felt like a lump of soft clay. He swallowed it.
"So this is what you taste."
"It doesn't taste good at all," he said softly. "You don't need to lie."
Hanachirusato's eyes shifted faintly.
"Why would you do this?"
"Bad things should be eaten together, just as good things should be shared together. That is what I wanted to tell you. That is my definition of friendship." Kiyo Seigan's expression was completely serious. "The things we've lost, we lose together. The things we need to reclaim, we reclaim together. From now on, you won't be alone."
He wolfed down another piece of tofu and swallowed it nearly whole.
"Because I'll taste every hardship with you. Then we can curse it together: This tastes fucking awful!"
What a childish fool.
Hanachirusato watched him devour the bland tofu and suddenly burst into laughter.
"Idiot," she said, still laughing.
"Then I'll ask you again." Kiyo Seigan smiled too. "Does it taste good? No more lying."
"..."
Hanachirusato hesitated for a moment before finally smiling and shaking her head.
"I cannot taste anything."
She took small bites of the tofu. It still had no flavor. She could not even feel its warmth. Yet for some reason, as she slowly chewed, she thought she detected the faintest trace of sweetness.
"But I wasn't lying," Hanachirusato said earnestly. "I truly think it is delicious—because you made it with care. Anything you make will taste good to me."
"I see."
They fell silent.
The moon slowly climbed higher. The night wind stirred shadows of sakura across the ground.
After a long while, Hanachirusato suddenly asked, "Do you truly believe we can find my old friends?"
"We can." Kiyo Seigan nodded. "I was worried before, but now I have no doubts. We will find them."
Because just moments ago—
The instant Kiyo Seigan swallowed that tasteless tofu, the voice of the Human Principles System had sounded within his mind.
It was a message from Human Principles.
[Tenth Covenant]