A thousand torii gates—known as the entrance to a "sacred domain." Normally, they stretched up the mountainside in endless rows of vermilion, like a tunnel leading to the gods themselves.
It was the kind of place where a heroine kick her way into a legendary scene.
But the ones before them now were crooked and faded to dull brown. The red lacquer had long been gnawed away by rain and wind.
The stone steps beneath were buried in snow, sloping too steeply to walk. Hoshino climbed up onto the lintel without hesitation.
"The mansion up there must be huge, huh?" came Kobeni Higashiyama's awed voice from his back.
"You trying to be funny?"
"Eh?" She blinked in confusion.
"You don't even know what a shrine is?"
"I do! It's in the Devil Hunter Manual!"
Devil Hunter Manual?
Wait, aren't shrines supposed to be everywhere?
Something didn't add up. Hoshino turned his head. "Where are you from?"
"Ky—Kyoto."
"Kyoto? Isn't Fushimi Inari Taisha there? How could you not have seen a shrine before?"
Kobeni's voice went timid. "Um… the manual says Fushimi Inari doesn't exist anymore."
"…What?"
"It's not me! That's what it said in the manual!" she said quickly.
After some pressing, Hoshino finally understood: in this world, shrines had gone extinct during the Warring States era.
Back then, the island nation was pure chaos—Contractors, Fiends, and Devils running rampant. Countless lives lost every day.
Only in the early 1600s, when the great war ended and Tokugawa established his shogunate in Edo, did the country finally enter two centuries of relative peace.
And buried in that history was an even stranger fact:
"Priests of the shrines could form divine Contracts and gain powers similar to Devils."
That didn't make sense.
Everyone in the organization knew that Devils were born from humanity's fear—negative emotion incarnate.
If supernatural power came from fear… then where did "divine" power come from?
From positive emotion? Ridiculous. If that were true, Devils wouldn't exist—and priests wouldn't have gone extinct.
Crack!
One of the rotten torii snapped under Hoshino's foot. He barely leapt away in time.
"P-please forgive us, great god-sama…" Kobeni yelped, clinging tighter to his shoulders, terrified of falling.
"I doubt any god would forgive someone who doesn't even recognize a shrine and still makes Contracts with Devils," Hoshino said dryly.
He didn't mention himself.
If gods really existed, the first one they'd smite would be someone like him—a thing caught between human and Devil.
"…hmph." Kobeni made a tiny indignant noise.
With one last jump, they landed in the courtyard.
Just like the mountain below, snow blanketed everything—no divine protection here. Half the main roof had caved in, the exposed beams jabbing upward like broken ribs.
Tattered paper streamers dangled from the eaves, yellowed with mold. When the wind lifted them, they shook and sprinkled snowflakes like glass dust.
On both sides of the path, half-buried guardian statues caught Hoshino's attention.
Traditional Shinto shrines always had messengers of the gods—animals or mythic creatures like komainu, foxes, nue, or crows.
But this shrine's "messengers" were… snowflakes.
Layer upon layer of snowflake carvings—different sizes, intertwined like gears in a clock.
"Excuse the intrusion," Hoshino said casually, bowing a little before searching for any trace of Himeno.
Judging from the torii outside, this place had once thrived.
Inside was sprawling too—three shrine halls plus a kagura hall.
He searched the offertory hall, the worship hall, and the kagura stage. No sign Himeno had ever been there.
Finally, he stopped before the main hall.
The honden—the heart of a shrine, where the deity's sacred object was kept. Offerings and holy tokens lined the space within.
The plaque above was miraculously intact, its lettering clear: Ice Shrine.
Kobeni tensed up immediately. "The manual says ordinary humans aren't allowed inside the main hall. Himeno-senpai wouldn't have gone in."
She wasn't wrong. If they were just sheltering from snow, the offertory hall would've been enough—no need to break taboo.
But Hoshino wasn't the type to skip something important out of superstition. He was going in regardless.
Kobeni squirmed, whining to be let down.
"Coward. Himeno-senpai's such a good person, and you'd abandon her?" he teased.
"That's—not it," she muttered. "You keep stopping and starting… it's bouncy."
Did she notice?
Hoshino narrowed his eyes and came to a sudden halt. The motion pressed her right against him.
Small, but definitely there.
"Ah—look! Look over there!" she blurted, panicking.
"Shh." Hoshino whistled innocently, making no move to set her down.
A few steps later, he slid the main hall doors open. A calm, almost sacred chill drifted out to greet them.
Dim light filtered through the cracks—enough to see what lay at the center of the room.
A katana.
Its blade was clear as frozen glass, blue light rippling within. Fractured frost patterns traced along its edge. The sheath shone pale white, the hilt wrapped in silk, and a blue ribbon hung from the pommel like a stream of ice.
Offerings surrounded it—fresh fruit, rice cakes, and other foods that looked like they'd just been placed.
Hoshino stepped inside. Tatami mats lined the floor, soft under his feet.
The walls were hung with a long ukiyo-e scroll. Even in the dim light, his sharp eyes caught the details.
A blizzard scene—humans, Contractors, Fiends, and Devils all clashing in chaos.
At first glance, it was just carnage—corpses piled high, rivers of blood.
But looking closer, the details twisted: Devils killing Devils. Fiends killing Fiends. Priests killing priests.
There was no telling who was enemy and who was ally.
And on each end of the painting stood figures so striking that even a fool would know they were the protagonists.
On the right, a tall, pale humanoid Devil. Its whole body was packed with human faces, featureless and overlapping.
A black halo of stars orbited its head, drifting like a ring of cosmic dust.
Its right hand pointed forward—toward the left side of the scroll—its fingers crawling with smaller, twisted faces.
On the left stood a white-haired shrine maiden in red and white robes, ponytail high, gripping the ice-blue blade from the altar.
She mirrored the Devil's pose, pointing her blade straight at it.
The ribbon on the hilt danced wildly in the wind.
"Himeno-senpai…" Hoshino called softly. His voice echoed faintly in the empty hall.
No answer.
He called again. Nothing.
A spark of irritation flared.
"Damn it, where the hell is she?!" His voice rose, frustration spilling over. "We were supposed to meet here! What, am I just supposed to wait forever?!"
"My time's running out!" he shouted, kicking at the tatami. "Five years of experience, and she can't even keep track of one rookie!"
He turned, jabbing a finger at Kobeni. "And you! You're just as bad—how do you even manage to lose people you're following?!"
"It's your fault, you short-lived jerk! I wouldn't even be here if not for you!" Kobeni snapped back, leaping off his back to face him, cheeks blazing red.
"Oh?" Hoshino's mouth curled into a smirk.
"You—you saw me completely naked! I haven't even been on a mixer before, and you—" she stammered, clutching her collar. "And you hid my—my underwear! Said the wind blew it away! That stuff was bought with my hard-earned part-time coupons!"
She took a deep breath and screamed, "Gross! Disgusting! I'm reporting you to the police!"
"What?!"
Hoshino looked like he'd just heard the funniest thing in the world. He snorted.
"Hide your stuff? Don't make me laugh. You think anyone would pay for those sizes? The factory probably used leftover scraps from large-cup orders to make yours. You couldn't use 'em as an eye mask if you tried!"
"You—!"
Kobeni's ears burned scarlet. The heat from her head melted the snow in her hair, forming ridiculous little icicles.
"I—I curse you! You'll never find a Devil! Never!"
"Oh, so you want me dead now? I knew it! That whole 'accidental stabbing in the cave' wasn't an accident at all—you were trying to kill me for college money!"
Hoshino tilted his chin up, smug. "Good thing I'm smart enough to already have my payment. Know why I kept stopping earlier? Obviously, it was for—"
"Pervert!!" Kobeni shrieked, stamping her feet.
"Heh, don't thank me," Hoshino said with a lazy grin, pointing at her chest. "Just making waste useful."
"AAAAHHH! Disappear already!" Kobeni screamed, lunging with her dagger.
But before she even reached him, panic flashed across her face.
Her foot caught again, sending her flying—just like before.
She landed outside the hall in a heap.
Hoshino clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he almost fell over. "Ha! Left foot, right foot again—classic!"
Then, mid-laugh, something clicked. He slapped his forehead, straightened, and said with mock seriousness, "Wait. You're not here to be a Devil Hunter…"
He strode out of the hall, crouched, and tapped her head lightly.
"You're here to apply as Devil feed! Premium-grade pork, selected fresh for the slaughter! Hahahahaha!"
"…"
But Kobeni didn't respond. She just sat there, dazed, staring blankly at the snow.
Hoshino's laughter slowed, then stopped altogether.
What the hell am I doing? Why am I even saying this stuff?
Silence fell. The shrine went still again.
No one spoke.
Then—plop.
A clump of snow slid off the roof, shattering into silver mist on the steps. The shards glittered like tiny stars.
A gust of cold wind blew through, carrying a few stray flakes right into Hoshino's collar.
He shivered, snapping out of it.
When he turned back, the main hall stood as silent and pristine as before.
But now, it felt… wrong.
The three outer halls had been decaying wrecks—dust, cobwebs, rotten beams, snow drifting through broken ceilings. Centuries of neglect.
Yet the main hall looked spotless. Not a speck of dust. Like a whole crew of servants cleaned it daily.
The offerings were fresh—as if just picked from the trees outside.
The ukiyo-e scroll looked new, its colors untouched by time.
And yet, no one was here.
Everything was frozen in some forgotten moment centuries ago.
A familiar sniffle broke the quiet.
Hoshino turned.
Kobeni sat hugging her knees, face buried in them, eyes red.
She looked like a bird battered by a storm—fragile, miserable, broken.
"…."
Hoshino rubbed his face.
After all he'd said to her, of course she'd cry.
A normal guy would apologize now.
But an apology meant admitting he meant all that stuff.
Wouldn't that just crush her twice over?
He couldn't bring himself to hurt her more.
Hands on his hips, he sighed, forcing a wry smile, and held out his hand.
Sunlight caught his face, soft and warm.
"Come on," he said gently. "I'm not mad."