Just as the bewildered group on the docks began to process the whiplash of divine judgment and imperial summons, a light, teasing laugh drifted through the air. Yae Miko, who had been observing the entire, chaotic spectacle with the detached amusement of a spectator at a particularly thrilling stage play, glided forward.
"Well, now," she purred, her violet eyes sparkling with a mischievous, knowing light. "That was certainly more excitement than Ritou has seen in a century. It seems your arrival has already caused quite the stir, little one." Her gaze was fixed on Ren, a new, profound, and deeply intrigued respect in her foxy eyes.
She then turned to a still-shaken Ganyu, her smile turning warm and genuinely welcoming. "My dear, I will not hear of you staying in some dreary, common inn, especially not after such a… stressful welcome. I have already had rooms prepared for you, the Traveler, and your little marvel at the Grand Narukami Shrine. You will be my personal guests."
Her gaze flicked back to Ren, her smile widening. "Besides," she added, her voice a conspiratorial whisper, "I am now most interested in having a long, long talk with our brave little diplomat here. He seems to be full of the most delightful surprises."
The offer was an act of profound political and personal significance. To be a personal guest of the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine was to be placed under the direct, unassailable protection of one of the most powerful and influential figures in all of Inazuma. It was a clear, public declaration of her favor.
The journey up the winding, scenic path to the Grand Narukami Shrine at the peak of Mt. Yougou was a welcome, peaceful antidote to the chaos of the port. The air grew cooler, cleaner, and was filled with the gentle, rustling sound of the sacred sakura trees and the faint, sweet scent of their blossoms.
The shrine itself was a place of breathtaking, serene beauty. Under the benevolent, watchful gaze of the great, glowing Sacred Sakura tree, Yae Miko hosted them for a private, exquisitely prepared meal. The food was delicious, the atmosphere was peaceful, and for the first time since arriving in Inazuma, Ren and his companions finally felt a sense of genuine, welcome calm.
As they ate, the conversation was light and cheerful. Miko and Ganyu reminisced about old times, their easy, familiar banter a testament to their long, if infrequent, friendship. Lumine and Paimon, for their part, were simply happy to be in a safe, beautiful place, eating delicious food.
It was then that Ren decided to share his own "souvenir."
"I got to see something amazing," he said, his voice full of a quiet, childish wonder. He pulled the small, rectangular photograph from his pouch and placed it on the table. "I took a picture."
Ganyu, Lumine, and Paimon all leaned in to look. They saw the picture: the small, joyfully smiling boy in the foreground, and the serene, beautiful, and divine figure of the Raiden Shogun floating in a strange, twilight-purple world behind him.
"Wow!" Paimon squeaked. "You got a picture with the Raiden Shogun! Paimon can't believe she just stood there and posed for you!"
"It was… a private meeting," Ren said simply.
Ganyu and Lumine stared, their surprise immense, but their understanding limited. To them, it was an incredible, almost unbelievable, feat. Their Ren had somehow, in that strange flash of light, been granted a private audience with the reclusive, all-powerful ruler of Inazuma. The sheer political and diplomatic weight of such an event was staggering. It was a sign of the Shogun's immense, if strange, favor.
But Yae Miko… Yae Miko saw something else entirely.
She picked up the photograph, her long, elegant fingers holding it with a delicate, almost reverent, care. Her playful, teasing smile vanished, replaced by a look of profound, utter, and complete astonishment. Her violet eyes, which always held a glint of ancient, foxy cunning, were now wide with a look of pure, unadulterated shock.
Because she was not just looking at a picture of the Raiden Shogun, the divine, unfeeling puppet who ruled Inazuma.
She was looking at a picture of Ei.
Her Ei. Her dear, lonely, stubborn, and grief-stricken friend who had locked herself away from the entire world, who had not been seen by another living soul, not even by Miko herself, for five hundred years.
And this child… this strange, impossible, wonderful little boy from another land… had not just met her, not just spoken with her. He had come back with a photograph, a perfect, impossible, and eternal moment captured from a place that no one was ever supposed to enter again.
She looked at the small, quiet boy, who was now happily munching on a piece of dango, and she understood. This was not just a marvel. This was not just a prodigy. This was a miracle. A small, walking, talking miracle who had, in the space of a single afternoon, accomplished what she, with all her centuries of cunning and devotion, had failed to do: he had reached the heart of a lonely god.