The sliding door opened slowly with a soft sound of wood rubbing against wood. The paper lanterns inside the room gave off a warm orange light, creating soft shadows on the wooden walls. But it wasn't enough to make Tobio forget where he was.
The room was spacious. More spacious than he had imagined. Clean tatami flooring stretched to the far end, where a small altar stood with bronze lanterns on either side. The candles inside the lanterns burned without flickering, as if time itself had stopped in this room.
And in the center of the room sat a woman who was impossible not to recognize.
Yasaka.
Her long blonde hair was tied in a loose ponytail—not too neat, but it was precisely from that casualness that natural elegance radiated. Her yellow and black shrine maiden attire wrapped around her body perfectly, her collar neat. Her golden-yellow eyes now stared directly at the small group that had entered.
Behind her, nine golden-yellow tails moved slowly. Not like ordinary fox tails—these were something more, something that made the air around her feel denser, heavier. Each movement of those tails created subtle ripples in the room's energy, like stones thrown into a calm pond.
'So this is Yasaka,' thought Tobio.
In memories from his previous life—or whatever one called the knowledge he carried—Yasaka was always described as beautiful. But seeing her in person was different. Words weren't enough. Pictures weren't enough. There was a presence here that couldn't be captured by camera lenses or book descriptions.
He only said that in his heart. On the outside, he just stood behind Griselda, his face flat as usual.
Griselda stepped forward first. Her upright body bowed respectfully—not too deeply, because she was a messenger of Heaven, but enough to show that she respected the hostess. "Griselda Quarta."
Dulio did the same beside her, with the friendly smile that had become his habit. "Dulio Gesualdo."
Xenovia followed, though with slightly stiff movements. As a young Exorcist, she wasn't yet accustomed to high-level diplomatic protocol. "Xenovia Quarta."
Tobio only bowed slightly. Just being polite, nothing more. His eyes met Yasaka's for a fraction of a second—long enough to feel the weight of that gaze, short enough not to appear as if he were challenging.
Even so, he was drawn. Not a strange attraction, but honest curiosity. A being like Yasaka—a nine-tailed fox, the leader of the Kyoto Youkai—was rarely seen up close by ordinary humans.
'Hopefully not noticed,' he thought.
Yasaka noticed that. Her sharp eyes didn't miss a single detail—the way Griselda stood in a ready position, feet slightly apart, the way Dulio smiled friendly but his eyes kept moving, scanning the room, noting every door and window, the way Xenovia held herself back from being too conspicuous, her shoulders slightly tense, her hands gripping the edge of her robe.
And Tobio. Who only bowed slightly. A flat face. No excessive respect, but also no arrogance. Just... a presence she couldn't read.
'Interesting eyes,' Yasaka thought. Not just because of their strange shape—a small galaxy with a black crack. But because of what wasn't visible behind them.
"Welcome to Kyoto." Yasaka's voice was soft but clear. "It's been a long time since Heaven sent guests without prior notice."
Griselda wasn't affected by that soft tone. She knew behind Yasaka's friendly smile was a power that could destroy them if she wished. Not because she was afraid—Griselda had long stopped fearing death—but because she was wise enough not to underestimate a potential enemy.
"We came for personal matters," Griselda answered, her tone formal, each word chosen carefully. "Not an official mission from Heaven. Therefore, we did not submit prior notice."
Yasaka raised her thin eyebrows—perfectly groomed eyebrows, curved like crescent moons. "Personal matters? In my territory?"
Her eyes shifted to Tobio, slowly, like a cat observing unusual prey. "Or matters concerning that child?"
Tobio felt Yasaka's gaze touch him. Not an ordinary gaze—a gaze that tried to pierce the layers within him, past skin, past flesh, past bone, to something deeper.
'His soul,' Yasaka thought inwardly. It's unstable. Not weak—there's a big difference between weak and unstable. Like not whole.
She didn't say that aloud. But her gaze was enough to convey that she knew something was wrong with the boy before her.
"My name is Tobio Ikuse." Tobio decided to introduce himself before Griselda could answer. He bowed slightly—once again, polite enough, nothing more. Then stood straight, looking directly into Yasaka's eyes. "I'm here because I have nowhere else to live. My grandmother has passed away."
Silence.
Not an awkward silence, but a heavy silence, like the air before a storm.
Griselda turned quickly towards Tobio, her eyes narrowing—not angry, but warning. Too much information. Too fast. We don't know what she'll do with that information.
But Tobio didn't see her. His eyes were still fixed on Yasaka, not challenging, not pleading. Just... honest.
Yasaka looked at the boy longer. Not because of his words—the words themselves were not special. But because of the way he said them. Calm. Flat. Not seeking sympathy, not seeking pity, not seeking anything.
'This child is already accustomed to loss.'
She didn't ask further. Not because she wasn't curious—quite the opposite, her curiosity now burned brighter than before.
But she knew, as a leader who had lived a long time, that some questions were better left unanswered. At least not in front of many people. At least not now.
"Please sit," said Yasaka, pointing to the cushions neatly arranged on the floor. Those cushions were red velvet, with gold trim, looking expensive and comfortable. "It's more comfortable to talk while seated."
They sat in a semicircle facing Yasaka. Griselda on the far right, her body as upright as a statue. Dulio beside her, one leg crossed, looking more relaxed but his eyes still alert.
Tobio in the middle, sitting in a not-too-formal position—legs crossed, hands in his lap. And Xenovia on the far left, her back perfectly straight, like a soldier under inspection.
A youkai servant in human form entered without a sound. Her face was neither too young nor too old—perhaps in her thirties—with black hair neatly pinned up. She carried a wooden tray with a green ceramic teapot and small cups that looked ordinary.
The aroma of green tea filled the room. Warm. Soothing. A familiar aroma, one that reminded Tobio of his grandmother—of mornings in the village, when Ageha brewed tea while waiting for breakfast to be ready.
Yasaka poured tea for them one by one. Her slender hand held the teapot with precise movements—tilting slightly, stopping exactly when the cup was three-quarters full, then straightening again. Not a single drop spilled.
When it was Tobio's turn, she poured longer than necessary. Not because she accidentally did—Yasaka didn't do anything accidentally. But because she was observing the boy's hands.
His hands didn't tremble. No signs of nervousness. No sweat on his palms, no fingers pressing too hard. Only the calm hands of someone already accustomed to tense situations—perhaps too accustomed.
And Yasaka noticed something else.
The boy was drawn to her.
Not a vulgar attraction—his gaze wasn't wild, wasn't disgusting. But there was curiosity there, honest and innocent curiosity, like a child seeing a shooting star for the first time.
'Interesting,' Yasaka thought again. 'Usually humans—especially children his age—would be scared, or nervous, or try too hard to please me. But he's just... looking.'
"So," Yasaka began after all the cups were filled. Her voice was still soft, but there was a different tone—a tone indicating that the pleasantries were over. "What are your plans after this? You can't possibly stay in Kyoto forever."
Griselda answered without hesitation. "We will leave after picking up Xenovia here. Tobio will come with me—to be watched over and protected."
Yasaka nodded. A small nod, almost invisible, but enough to show that she accepted that answer.
Her eyes shifted to the window. Outside, the sky was beginning to change color—from blue to orange, then purple on the western horizon. Night was beginning to fall.
"It's getting dark," said Yasaka. "Why don't you stay here for the night? Many Youkai roam at night. It's safer if you're inside the shrine."
Silence.
Griselda and Dulio were silent. The offer was tempting—very tempting. Staying in youkai territory would give them time to observe, to gather information, to understand the situation better.
But on the other hand, this was potential enemy territory. Accepting the offer meant being under Yasaka's control, at least for one night or more.
Xenovia was slightly surprised. Her eyes widened just a little, because as an Exorcist she was trained not to show excessive emotion.
But in her heart, she wondered. Yasaka, the leader of the Kyoto Youkai, offering accommodation to angels and an Exorcist? This was unusual.
Tobio thought this was an interesting opportunity. Because when else could he stay overnight in a Youkai shrine? When else could he bathe in hot springs in a place like this? With an innocent tone—truly innocent, without hidden intention—he said, "Is that alright? I mean, I only have 15 thousand Yen."
Silence again. But a different kind.
Yasaka smiled. A genuine smile, one that made her golden-yellow eyes sparkle like the morning sun. "Fufu~ You don't need to pay anything. Consider it my kindness."
'Usually people would be wary,' Yasaka thought. 'Or question my intentions. But this child... doesn't. He just thinks like an ordinary person—about money, about costs, about simple things.'
Dulio laughed softly—a short laugh that came from his nose, almost like a snort. "You... your priorities are unique."
Griselda sighed softly. In her heart, she acknowledged that this was a strategic decision—staying here meant they could observe the Youkai from within, and also show that they weren't afraid. But Tobio, in his innocent way, had brought the discussion to the simplest thing.
"This isn't a transaction," said Griselda, her tone flat. "Just accept it."
Xenovia was confused. Truly confused. They were in youkai territory, before Yasaka, discussing money. That's not relevant, she thought. Safety is more important.
But she didn't say that aloud. She just sat quietly, observing, trying to understand the strange dynamics before her.
Yasaka stood up. Her movements were graceful. "There are several guest rooms for overnight stays here. The servants will guide you."
Griselda and Dulio bowed their heads slightly. "Thank you for allowing us to stay," said Griselda, her tone formal.
Tobio looked out the window. The sky was completely dark now. Stars were beginning to appear one by one.
And he felt tired.
Not ordinary tiredness. Not tiredness after a day of walking or after lack of sleep. This was a deeper exhaustion—exhaustion that seeped from his bones, from his marrow, from something he couldn't point to with a finger.
'Maybe it's my cracked soul problem,' he thought. 'Isn't there anything in this world that can repair a soul? Or at least strengthen it?'
He yawned long. His eyes felt very heavy. His body began to sway slightly—not falling, but unstable.
Yasaka wasn't offended seeing Tobio yawn before her. Instead, she smiled gently. "You're tired. That's natural."
---
They were guided by a youkai servant to the guest rooms in the eastern wing of the shrine. Wooden hallways with floors that gleamed from frequent waxing. Paper lanterns on the walls provided enough light to see, but not too bright.
Occasionally they passed small indoor gardens—carefully arranged stones, moss growing in the corners, water flowing from bamboo pipes.
Xenovia had already entered her designated room earlier. She chose the farthest room—strategic, with two exits in case something happened. As an Exorcist, she had been trained to always think of the worst-case scenario.
Tobio walked slowly down the hallway. Each step felt heavier than the last. His shoulders began to slump, his eyes half-closed.
He didn't feel pain—nothing stabbing, nothing burning. But the exhaustion was real, like a giant hand pressing down on him from above.
He stopped in front of the room designated for him. A wooden sliding door with a painting of cherry blossoms on it—beautiful, but Tobio had no energy to admire.
"I'm tired," he said, his voice soft, almost a whisper. "Even though I already slept."
He turned to Griselda and Dulio, who were still standing in the hallway. His half-closed eyes tried to focus.
"If I don't wake up in the morning, just let me be. I don't feel any pain."
Griselda stopped breathing. Just for a moment—but for someone of Griselda's caliber, that moment was enough to show how serious Tobio's words were to her.
"Don't say that," said Griselda, her voice low. "You will wake up."
Dulio heard that. There was no smile on his face now. No jokes, no casual tone. His green eyes looked at Tobio with an expression that rarely appeared—something between worry and helplessness.
'This isn't a joke,' Dulio thought. Tobio knew something was wrong. And he said it calmly, as if he had already accepted it.
"You won't be left like that," said Dulio, his voice soft but serious. "We won't let you be like that."
But in their hearts, they both knew.
This wasn't an ordinary wound. His soul was cracked. And usually, people with cracked souls don't survive. They break slowly, or suddenly, or in agonizing madness.
But Tobio was still here. Still walking. Still talking. Still joking about money and hot springs.
This was dangerous territory. Territory rarely touched even by beings of angelic class.
"Don't think that far," said Griselda, trying to end the conversation before sinking too deep.
Dulio added, "If there's a way... we'll find it."
Tobio heard that. He nodded—a small nod, almost invisible.
"Alright. I'll sleep now."
He opened the sliding door and entered the room.
The room was simple but comfortable. Clean tatami flooring, one low table in the center with a cold tea pot on it, and in the corner, a futon had been prepared, with white sheets and a light blue blanket. A window on the east side faced a small garden with a koi pond whose water sparkled under the moonlight.
Beside that futon, Xenovia was already sitting.
The blue-haired girl was still wearing her white robe, though her hood had been removed. Her long hair fell over her shoulders, slightly damp at the ends—perhaps from washing her face. Her brown eyes looked at Tobio as he entered, then shifted to the door behind him.
"Griselda-san and Dulio-kun are in the next room," said Xenovia, her voice flat. "If something happens, they can hear."
Tobio didn't answer. He walked to the empty futon—there were two futons in this room, one for Xenovia, one for him—and sat on its edge.
His body felt heavy. His eyes could no longer focus.
He took off his jacket and rolled it into something roughly resembling a pillow. Then he lay down on the futon, pulled the light blue blanket up to his chest, and placed the jacket over his eyes.
Darkness.
Not the supernatural darkness he felt when the limiter necklace was active. This was ordinary darkness—darkness because there was fabric over his eyes.
'Hopefully I won't sleep too long,' Tobio thought.
His breathing began to steady. His chest rose and fell slowly. Within seconds, he was asleep—a deep sleep, a dreamless sleep, a sleep that might mean he wouldn't wake up if his soul decided not to return.
Xenovia remained sitting on her futon. She looked at Tobio—at the pale face beneath the black jacket, at the chest rising and falling slowly, at the hands loosely clasped above the blanket.
'He just went to sleep like that,' Xenovia thought. In youkai territory. In a room with an Exorcist he had just met. Without fear.
That wasn't courage. That wasn't recklessness. That was something else—something she couldn't name.
She extinguished the oil lamp beside the futon. The room became dark, lit only by moonlight from the window.
Xenovia lay down on her futon, eyes still open, staring at the dark wooden ceiling.
Who are you really, Tobio Ikuse?
No answer. Only the sound of the boy's breathing beside her—slow, steady—and the sound of crickets in the garden outside.
In the hallway, Griselda and Dulio were still standing. They didn't go to their respective rooms. They just stood there, between two doors, in a heavy silence.
"His soul is cracked," said Dulio softly, his voice no more than a whisper. "We knew that from the start. But hearing him say it himself... is different."
Griselda didn't answer. She stared at Tobio's door—the door with the cherry blossom painting—as if she could pierce through the wood and see the boy behind it.
"We'll find a way," Griselda said finally. Her voice was firm, but there was something behind that firmness, something akin to desperate resolve.
Dulio only nodded.
Inside the room, Tobio slept. No dreams. Not seeing anything.
But on his chest, the golden necklace with the small cross symbol pulsed softly. Holding. Protecting. Reminding that behind this deep sleep, there was a world still waiting.