Onahebi Shrine

After parting ways with Riichi, Yūha ended up having the promised girl talk with Misuzu.

“Normally, you’d do this at a café, but the weather’s nice today, so why don’t we buy something to drink and go over there?”

“Where’s ‘over there’?”

“Onahebi Shrine. It’s close to the house, so we can stop by on the way back.”

And so, they bought some soda from a vending machine along the way and headed there.

At the entrance to the mountain, just a short distance from the house, there was a wide approach leading to the shrine. It had probably been repaired recently. The stone paving was sturdy, so there was little danger of losing one’s footing.

After following the approach and climbing the steps, they reached a torii gate. Beyond it stood a simple shrine layout: a purification pavilion on the left and the worship hall straight ahead. There was no sign of anyone around. It was so quiet that even the sound of water from the purification pavilion could be heard, while the cicadas sounded distant.

“The kids in this village gather here to play.”

Misuzu looked up, and Yūha followed her gaze. The trees opened overhead, revealing the blue sky. It was cool because the sunlight barely reached the ground, but it wasn’t particularly dark. There was plenty of open space too, making it an ideal place for children to play.

The two sat on stump-like seats off to the side and opened their plastic bottles. A soft hiss escaped as the carbonation was released.

Misuzu took a sip before bringing up the topic.

“We were going to talk about Roku-kun, right? What do you want to hear first?”

“I really don’t know anything. Rokurō never tells me anything about himself… so I want to know anything I can.”

“I see. Then before we get into that—Yūha-chi, do you know the story about the liar and the snake that’s been passed down in this village?”

“The liar and the snake…? No, I don’t.”

Yūha tilted her head at the unfamiliar combination. The moment she heard the word liar, the first person who came to mind was her own brother.

“It’s not very long, so will you listen? I memorized it for tourists.”

“Please.”

Misuzu nodded, then quietly began weaving the story with her lips.

“Long ago, there lived a man and a woman in this village—”

The two loved one another, but were once torn apart by circumstances imposed upon them by the adults around them. The woman became a snake out of hatred, while the man continued to tell her of his love. After many long years, the curse was finally broken, and their relationship came to be accepted by those around them.

It was a story of love between people of different social standing.

It was a story of betrayal and reconciliation.

It was simply a story of unwavering love.

Until Misuzu finished telling it, Yūha had nearly forgotten even to breathe. Her narration was that smooth and captivating.

And they lived happily ever after.

For a while after those words brought the story to a close, Yūha remained silent.

Misuzu let out a long breath, pulling her back into reality.

“What did you think?”

Still dazed, Yūha suddenly became aware again of the cold bottle in her hands.

“I thought it was a beautiful story.”

“Right? Having someone tell you ‘I love you’ every single day for ten whole years… there can’t be anything happier than that.”

Yūha was slightly taken aback by Misuzu’s forceful agreement.

“Ah, sorry. That wasn’t really the part I meant. I thought the woman turning into a snake was nice.”

“Huh? So that’s the part that got to you?”

Misuzu sounded surprised, and Yūha scratched her cheek with an awkward smile.

“It’s strange, isn’t it? Even I think it’s strange. …But being able to grieve so deeply when someone important disappears that you turn into a snake… I think that’s kind of amazing.”

She had been remembering what happened two years ago, when Rokurō disappeared.

A few days after they had their first-ever fight, he suddenly vanished. Yūha had not even had time to make up with him and had simply been left confused. She had assumed he would come back eventually, but before she knew it, living without Rokurō had become normal.

There was Yūha, who had accepted it.

And there was the woman in the story, who could not.

She couldn’t help comparing the two, which had led her to such a strange reaction. Becoming a snake was hardly something a normal person would admire.

But Misuzu’s eyes were sparkling.

“No. I don’t think that’s weird at all. That way of looking at it makes sense too.”

“Huh?”

“I see, I see. Yeah, that’s another way to think about it. If Riichi-san rejected me, I might turn into a snake too. I kind of get it.”

“You would?”

“It’s all about determination. If you really want to become something, people can become anything!”

“Was that really the point of the story?”

Somehow, the love story had turned into a lesson about sheer willpower. Apparently, that sort of thing appealed to Misuzu.

Then again, she did seem like the type who would prefer a hot-blooded action story over a sentimental romance.

“By the way, Roku-kun said, ‘What a load of crap.’”

“He really is the worst.”

Even if he hadn’t liked the story, couldn’t that man have chosen his words a little more carefully?

“He was pretty prickly back then. If you asked him now, maybe you’d get a slightly different answer.”

“I doubt it. I think he’d say the same thing.”

“Why?”

“Just a feeling.”

Yūha couldn’t think of any solid reason. Yet she could vividly imagine Rokurō saying, “What a load of crap.”

Misuzu blinked a few times before apparently accepting it.

“If you say so, Yūha-chi, then you’re probably right.”

She shook her bottle. The last bit of carbonation inside fizzed away.

“So anyway, that’s the kind of story this village has.”

“Right.”

“And the ‘Student Town Revitalization Team’ that we run thought we might be able to use it to attract tourists somehow. At the end of summer, there’s also an event held at this shrine called the ‘Snake Husk Festival,’ so we were sure we could make something work.

All of us kids got together, desperately came up with all kinds of ideas, and presented them to the adults—and every single one was rejected. That was two years ago.”

The specific number immediately sharpened Yūha’s attention. The direction of the conversation had changed.

Or rather, it had finally reached the real point.

“We wanted to find some way to break through the situation, so we asked Roku-kun, the outsider who had come to the village, for advice. That was the beginning of me and him.”