Hozuki Nozomi deliberately held back from confronting Tano Ichiro. Rushing in without information would only alert the enemy and potentially complicate matters further. Instead, he made a mental note to ask Miyamizu Hitoha about the Tano family's history with the shrine.
This was, after all, a special timeline—three years in the past. And he was currently inhabiting Mitsuha's body. That meant the ultimate responsibility for resolving the meteor crisis and saving Itomori Town would fall to Mitsuha herself.
He could guide her. Prepare her. Arm her with knowledge and tools. But in the end, she would have to act.
That strange incantation—"Eris's chest is padded"—would need to be passed to her at the appropriate moment. Mitsuha was the legitimate miko of Miyamizu Shrine. Yotsuha was still too young to form the necessary connections; one couldn't expect a fourth-grade loli to shoulder such weighty responsibilities.
Fortunately, Hozuki Nozomi had already placed numerous protective cards on Mitsuha's body, along with several cards containing sealed demonic flames. Once he taught her how to activate them, she'd have both offensive and defensive capabilities.
The larger problem remained: Itomori Town would be destroyed by a meteor impact when the comet fell. Even if the evil god's descent was prevented, the celestial event itself couldn't be changed. The only solution was evacuation—getting everyone out before impact.
Towns could be rebuilt. Lost lives could not.
With Teshigawara Katsuhiko's electric scooter making transport efficient, Hozuki Nozomi quickly completed the shopping. He collected Yotsuha, and together they carried the supplies up the shrine's long staircase.
Looking at it objectively, being a miko wasn't an easy vocation. Daily climbs up and down these stairs provided built-in exercise. No wonder Mitsuha had such an excellent figure—those stairs did wonders for leg muscles.
Ahem. Getting off track.
After storing the supplies in the small warehouse, Hozuki Nozomi and Yotsuha took a bath together and changed into traditional kimonos.
And he had to admit: Mitsuha in a kimono was stunning. The awkwardness of a high school girl melted away, replaced by a gentle, graceful elegance that seemed to belong to another era.
Then again, he was currently controlling her body. Was the outstanding reflection in the mirror a result of his own personality shining through? He'd have to wait until Mitsuha was herself again, wearing the kimono, to make a proper comparison.
After changing, Hozuki Nozomi joined Miyamizu Hitoha in continuing the braided cord weaving. Yotsuha assisted with auxiliary tasks—winding threads, organizing materials—while her sister and grandmother worked the intricate patterns.
Yotsuha watched them with longing eyes. "Grandma, I want to do that too."
Miyamizu Hitoha smiled kindly, her weathered hands never pausing in their work. "You're still too young, Yotsuha. To make these properly, you must listen to the sound of the thread. Follow that sound as you wind, over and over. Between the person and the thread, feelings will slowly develop."
Yotsuha's face scrunched in confusion. "But threads don't talk! How can I hear their sound?"
Hozuki Nozomi chuckled at her literal interpretation. "Grandma means you need to concentrate. Be patient. If you weave with a distracted, playful attitude, you might accidentally sever your own connections."
Miyamizu Hitoha glanced at "Mitsuha" with an approving smile and didn't contradict him. "That's right. The weaving of the braided cord must have a beginning and an end. You cannot give up halfway."
Her voice took on a storytelling quality, the cadence of someone passing down oral tradition. "Our braided cords condense a thousand years of Itomori Town's history. Listen carefully—about two hundred years ago, the bathroom of Yamazaki Goro's straw sandal shop caught fire. The flames spread. This entire area burned to the ground."
Yotsuha's eyes widened. "Everything?"
"The shrine. All the ancient texts. Everything." Hitoha's voice held the weight of centuries. "In folklore, it's called the 'Fire of Goro.'"
"Eh?" Yotsuha's expression shifted to sympathy. "They added 'fire' to his name? Goro must be so pitiful, being remembered like that for so long!"
Hozuki Nozomi couldn't help but interject. "The people whose houses burned down are the pitiful ones, aren't they? Take our Miyamizu Shrine—if those ancient texts still existed, we wouldn't be in this situation today."
Miyamizu Hitoha sighed, a sound heavy with generations of loss. "Yes. Even now, because of those lost texts, we've forgotten the true meaning of our rituals. Only the forms remain, passed down by rote." She looked at them seriously. "Mitsuha, Yotsuha—if even we forget the traditions that survive, Miyamizu Shrine will not be far from extinction."
Her voice hardened slightly. "I originally wanted that man to inherit the shrine. But that foolish son-in-law insisted on throwing himself into politics! It infuriates me just thinking about it."
Hozuki Nozomi wisely stayed silent on that topic. Grandma's feelings about Miyamizu Toshiki were complicated and deeply felt. She could have been enjoying her elder years, but instead had to shoulder the shrine's preservation alone. If she didn't take responsibility for training the next generation of miko, Miyamizu Shrine would simply... end.
Yet Miyamizu Toshiki wasn't entirely wrong either. He'd originally been a shrine priest who married into the Miyamizu family because he fell in love with the miko, Miyamizu Futaba. But the gods he served never answered his prayers. His wife eventually died of illness, and he broke completely. The shrine felt ethereal, unreliable. Instead of praying for miracles, he chose to strive through his own efforts. If he'd had money and status back then, perhaps he could have taken his wife to a city hospital. Perhaps she would have survived.
Listening to Hitoha's words, Hozuki Nozomi finally understood why the shrine's deity was so weakened. On the verge of disappearing entirely, with only a sliver of will remaining, it had barely any power to resist the evil god's invasion.
He guessed that the deity—the little girl named Mioko—now resided in the shrine's inner sanctuary. Using her limited divine power, she had created the bond between him and Mitsuha, hoping to save the people of Itomori Town.
The Fire of Goro two hundred years ago hadn't just destroyed ancient records. It had killed the crucial priestesses and priests who maintained the connection between the mortal and divine realms. Without proper sacrifices and rituals, the deity couldn't display miracles, and the people gradually forgot how to worship properly.
Relying on that last shred of formal tradition, the deity could only use the braided cords—the musubi—to connect the shrine maidens with their fated persons, emitting residual warmth through those bonds. That was why the women of Miyamizu were so special, why they occasionally experienced soul-swapping across time.
A thought occurred to Hozuki Nozomi. "Grandma, do you know anything about the Tano family's background?"
Miyamizu Hitoha pushed her glasses up thoughtfully. "Tano? Let me think..." Her eyes focused on some distant memory. "Ah, yes. The Tano family originally lived in the mountains. Their original surname was Yamazaki. Later, they came down from the mountains and integrated into the town, changing their name to Tano."
Hozuki Nozomi's eyes sharpened.
Yamazaki. The name of the man whose bathroom fire had destroyed everything.
The Tano family were descendants of Yamazaki Goro.
Which meant the destruction of the shrine's ancient records—the loss of two hundred years of accumulated knowledge, ritual, and divine connection—was inextricably linked to Tano Ichiro's ancestors.