"Purchasing a building that can serve as both your shop and your home would be the most practical option," Miss Li Hua said, lifting a dumpling with her chopsticks. "It reduces overhead and keeps your operations… visible."
Miss Hazel nodded slowly, her gaze drifting toward Zinnia, who was currently more interested in dismantling her pastry than eating it.
"Do you think we should make plans to move out too?" Victoria whispered to me, leaning close like we were plotting a heist instead of real estate.
"It's not a bad idea," Mr. Mumei-shi added mildly. "The supplementary treatments were remarkably effective. There is already demand." He gently stroked Zinnia's hair as she nibbled, crumbs falling onto his sleeve without him seeming to mind. "It has been over a week. Your skill will find a market."
Danpung, seated quietly beside him, poured him tea without being asked.
I leaned closer to Victoria and whispered back, "Is no one going to explain who this man actually is?"
"We should also begin the process of registering the business and acquiring the necessary licenses," Miss Li Hua continued, as though the presence of a mysterious white-robed man in her shrine was the most natural thing in the world.
Miss Hazel gave a soft hum of agreement. "I suppose… it's time."
The morning unfolded gently, the kind of morning that felt earned.
Most of the shrine was quiet—patients gone, lines dissolved, only the echo of what had been. When I stepped into the courtyard, I stopped short.
Crows.
Dozens of them.
They perched along the railings, the roof tiles, even the stone lanterns. Black feathers, black eyes, perfectly still.
And in the middle of them sat Zinnia and Mr. Mumei-shi.
They were painting.
Ink, brushes, sheets of paper spread neatly between them like a miniature studio.
"…Where are her butterflies?" Victoria whispered beside me. "And why are there so many birds?"
The sunlight poured into the courtyard, making the black feathers gleam like polished obsidian.
"Lady Heiwa, look!" Zinnia called happily, lifting up her paper. On it was a careful painting of birds in flight—dozens of them, swirling around something unseen. "Do you like it?"
"It's… lovely," I said honestly, though my eyes kept drifting to the absence of Sparkle.
Mr. Mumei-shi looked up and smiled. "Would you like to join us? Painting, calligraphy—it is good practice for the mind."
No one said no. Somehow, we were seated before we could reconsider.
As I dipped the brush into ink, Victoria muttered, "So. Again. Where are all these birds coming from?"
"They're Sparkle," Zinnia replied casually, not even looking up.
My brush froze mid-air.
"…Sparkle?" I echoed.
Mr. Mumei-shi hummed softly, stroking a fox that had somehow appeared in his lap. "Forms are… flexible things."
Before I could ask anything else, Zinnia suddenly looked up. "Mommy's back!"
A crow landed neatly beside her painting, just as voices echoed from the shrine gate.
Miss Hazel and Miss Li Hua returned carrying baskets—market baskets.
"We managed to secure the permit," Miss Li Hua announced. "But only for tea. Pharmaceutical licenses are significantly more regulated."
"That's fine," Miss Hazel replied, already unpacking herbs and dried leaves. "Tea is enough."
"We'll begin searching for a location over the next few days," she added.
Lunch felt… strange.
Not bad. Just heavy with presence.
Zinnia ate with her hands, beef sauce smeared across her cheeks. Miss Hazel gently brushed silver hair behind her ear as she ate. Victoria and I tried our best to be polite, though everything tasted unfamiliar—new spices, new methods, new traditions.
Everyone else ate like they were remembering something.
Even Mr. Mumei-shi closed his eyes once or twice between bites, as though tasting a past that didn't belong to this century.
It felt less like a meal.
And more like history sitting down at the table.
The afternoon dissolved into gold.
Zinnia returned to her drawings, Sparkle now back in butterfly form, drifting lazily around her shoulders. The crows were gone. The fox was gone. Mr. Mumei-shi was gone too, at some point, without anyone noticing him leave.
Victoria lay beside me on the wooden veranda, rolling slightly as the heat soaked into her bones.
"This feels like a filler episode," she murmured.
I watched the butterflies catch the light.
"Yeah," I said softly. "But those are always the ones where the real plot hides."
And in the warm quiet of the shrine, with gods, witches, demons, soldiers, and sages sharing space like it was normal—
I had the unsettling feeling that we were only practicing for something much larger.
Jissen. Not peace. Just rehearsal.