The light rain was still falling, and a gentle breeze carried moisture, misting the air. I held an umbrella, walking to Kusanagi's left. Many people were sheltering from the rain under the eaves, and most of them, like me, looked on with admiration.
Although the girl wore geta, she walked quickly. She held up her black skirt with one hand and kept the other flat for balance. I tried hard to keep up with her pace, struggling to hold the umbrella high, not wanting her to get wet.
Beautiful and cool Japanese girls certainly get a lot of Return rate (return glances). Mr. Kuroki's concern about his daughter living alone makes sense.
"Hey, why aren't you asking me where I'm taking you?" she asked, turning her head after a while.
"My intuition tells me you're going to a crowded place, maybe a famous historical site or something."
I smiled at her, unsure if my guess was right, but I just felt that her attire was very suitable for appearing in an ancient city or an old temple.
"Miss Nozawa is quite clever," the girl said, sounding somewhat surprised. "We're here."
It was a quick walk, about ten minutes.
Despite the light rain, the vivid red of the grand architecture immediately caught the eye, and the crowd surged here.
Tourists from all walks of life held umbrellas, taking photos. From afar, one could see the bold, imposing characters of "Fūjin Raijin Mon" (Thunder Gate). This was Senso-ji Temple, Japan's oldest temple in Tokyo, still existing in the Edo style.
The bright red had a feeling reminiscent of ancient Chinese temples, ostentatiously displayed in the center of the main entrance. The characters for "Thunder Gate" were in Chinese script, and on both sides stood tall divine statues. Visitors vying to take photos with these statues also hoped for divine blessings.
"To truly learn Japanese, you must first understand the local culture and history—what it was like in the past, what it has experienced, and what its future holds."
I had never thought of these things. Learning indeed requires deep understanding; being superficial always means being a dabbler, without true talent. I didn't expect Kusanagi to understand this principle at such a young age, and I couldn't help but look at her in a new light.
The girl passed through the Thunder Gate, her voice, though covered by the crowd, remained clear and indifferent.
"Remember, what I teach will not be repeated a second time."
She truly had the demeanor of a teacher.
"Legend has it that at Senso-ji Temple, in the 36th year of Empress Suiko's reign (628 AD), two fishermen on the Miyato River caught a 5.5-centimeter Golden Kannon Statue. Nearby residents then pooled funds to build a temple to enshrine this Buddha statue. Subsequently, the temple suffered numerous fires and was destroyed several times. In the early Edo period, Tokugawa Ieyasu rebuilt Senso-ji Temple, transforming it into a large complex of temples and a place of recreation for the citizens of Edo."
The girl's glossy short hair had grown a little, falling onto the collar of her black brocade dress. She accommodated my Japanese, speaking slowly and enunciating clearly.
"That sounds impressive."
"It has a long history, enduring through the ages," she raised an eyebrow. "Speaking of long history, isn't China the most noteworthy?"
I racked my brain for Japanese words. "Miss Kusanagi, China is indeed a country with a very long history, vast land, dense population, and ancient cities spanning thousands of years. Have you heard of the Four Great Ancient Cities of China?"
"No, are they more impressive than Senso-ji Temple?" The girl's eyes sparkled with interest.
I curved my lips. This vigorous thirst for knowledge was indeed the unique charm of a young girl.
"The Four Great Ancient Cities of China refer to Huizhou in Huangshan, Anhui; Langzhong in Sichuan; Pingyao in Shanxi; and Lijiang in Yunnan. These ancient cities are different from Japan's Senso-ji Temple; they represent the characteristics of different regions and the styles of different historical periods. The ethnic flavor of these places is particularly strong, inheriting Han Chinese customs and culture, and can be considered iconic scenic spots in China."
The girl listened intently. I felt a little embarrassed under her gaze and cleared my throat: "If there's an opportunity in the future, Miss Kusanagi can come to China and visit these ancient cities."
"That's a good suggestion," her eyes lit up. "But I don't speak Chinese, how would I go?"
I was about to say she could go with family and friends, but the meaning in her eyes was clearly: besides you, is there a better choice?
So I changed my words, only able to say: "If there's an opportunity in the future... I'll take Miss Kusanagi."
"The Three-Chapter Agreement needs to be updated to version 2.0," Kusanagi's eyebrows arched, looking triumphant and carried away.
Why do I always dig myself into a hole? This little ancestor acts on every whim; what can I do but go along with it?
The two of us continued to walk forward.
The crowd suddenly stirred, and a foreign tourist bumped into me. He apologized repeatedly, but his gaze was fixed on Kusanagi beside me.
"Can I take a picture with her?" The foreign man, a meter eighty tall, exclaimed, raising his camera. He pointed at Kusanagi, "The Japanese girl is so pretty..."
"Sure, no problem." I took his camera, gestured for him to stand next to the bewildered Kusanagi, and told her: "This foreign friend thinks you're very beautiful and wants to take a picture with you."
"..."
"Cooperate a little, show some spirit."
Kusanagi's mouth twitched helplessly.
"Come on, quickly, quickly, look at the camera, say cheese~"
I aimed the lens at them. In the frame, the girl's unruly, upturned eyebrows curved slightly. Her dark brocade dress exuded a beautiful exotic charm, and the indifferent aura around her softened considerably. Only her stubborn face still showed a rebellious feeling.
In the rain, she possessed an indescribable charm. Her eyes were fixed on me, unblinking.
What a rascal, so prim and proper beautiful.
My heart inexplicably skipped a beat, and the camera shutter clicked quickly, capturing her face.
"Thanks! Arigato (thank you)!" The foreign tourist thanked me repeatedly, and upon seeing the photo, he praised it continuously, giving thumbs up from time to time.
That photo made Kusanagi look especially beautiful. Seeing the foreigner about to take the camera away, and realizing I wouldn't see it again, I suddenly felt a bit lost.
"Wait! Hold on!"
Kusanagi, seeing the photo was taken, bent down to brush off the raindrops from her clothes.
I secretly took out my phone, snapped a picture of the photo on the foreigner's DSLR screen, and saved it to my phone.
Although it wasn't as clear as in the camera, I could still see about eighty percent of the full image, the girl's fair and slender appearance.
It was really well-taken, with long eyes and a straight nose, and a taut jawline like a knife, clearly defined in black and white at the chin.
It's just that the foreigner next to her was a bit distracting, standing too tall beside her, making her look thin and small. Out of my love for beauty, I selfishly cropped her out alone and trimmed it a bit. Now, only Kusanagi was in the frame, and it looked much more pleasing to the eye.
"What are you looking at?" Kusanagi's voice suddenly rang in my ear.
"Nothing!" I quickly put away my phone, turning my back to her to swipe away the album interface. Strange, why did I subconsciously want to hide it from her?
"No slacking off, focus." Kusanagi tidied her dress and motioned for me to follow her further inside. "It's very big inside, don't get lost."
"Okay." I suppressed the stirring in my heart and hurried towards her. The phone in my hand seemed to hold a secret, and I felt a private joy because of it.
This was the picture of Kusanagi I took, the only one.
She and I walked through the Thunder Gate and further inside. At the main entrance, on the left and right, stood the majestic Fūjin and Raijin generals, guarding Senso-ji Temple.
I felt very curious. "Miss Kusanagi, how do you say Fūjin and Raijin in Japanese?"
"They are read as Fūjin and Narukami, two gods worshipped by people to pray for favorable weather and bountiful harvests." Kusanagi seemed lost in thought. She raised her gaze, finally settling on the worship path that stretched deeper into the temple.
Inside the gate, there is a stone-paved worship path about 140 meters long, leading to the main hall where the Kannon statue is enshrined. This is a famous tourist destination for Japanese national culture, with an endless stream of visitors from all over the world.
In the southwest corner of the temple is a five-story pagoda, second only to the five-story pagoda of To-ji Temple in Kyoto, making it Japan's second tallest Buddhist pagoda. To the northeast of the temple is Asakusa Shrine, with an elegant design, exquisite carvings, and a solemn atmosphere.
"There are numerous festivals here every year, with celebrations throughout the four seasons. That time of year is usually especially lively." The girl raised an eyebrow, pointing to the stone-paved path ahead. "We'll go in this way shortly."
"Okay."
It was my first time being led by someone, and my first time seeing such a shrine, so I felt very new.
Even though the unreliable underage girl walked ahead, she made me feel very secure.
The rain had stopped, and the air was crisp and fresh, with a hint of sweetness in every breath.
After passing through a long Nakamise-dori shopping street, there were so many tourists, like ants, densely filling the entire space. I clung closely behind Kusanagi, also keeping her at a certain distance from the surrounding people.
She seemed particularly familiar with this place. Not only did she know the culture and history very well, but she was also very familiar with the roads here, as if she had grown up here, even knowing the exact location of the large lantern on the Thunder Gate.
But I distinctly remembered Kusanagi saying that she had only come to Tokyo in recent years. Why would she be so familiar with the layout and furnishings here?
Perhaps she often came with friends.
But a famous attraction like Senso-ji Temple is usually visited once, mostly by foreign tourists. Japanese people like Kusanagi probably wouldn't come again and again, would they?
Moreover, it's always crowded here, even on rainy days.
AI Model: gemini-3.0-flash
I was lost in thought when I looked up and saw Kusanagi had been pushed to the very front. Most of the tourists here were carrying large, heavy backpacks that completely obscured her slender frame. She was wearing cumbersome geta, and in an instant, a great distance had opened up between us.
"Miss Kusanagi! Miss Kusanagi!"
I called out to her, but there were so many people that I could only hear her voice responding; I couldn't tell exactly where she was. Finally, I spotted her soft, lustrous little head a few meters away.
"Excuse me, coming through. Sorry!" I instinctively switched to Chinese, pretending to be a foreign tourist as I shoved a path open and struggled to reach Kusanagi's side.
Surrounded by the pressing crowd, the young girl's face was already flushed, and she was panting slightly, her strength failing her.
In all this chaos, I had actually forgotten that she was physically weak and couldn't stay in such a noisy, hot environment for long.
"Miss Kusanagi, follow me." Without thinking, I grabbed her arm—and then, to make sure I didn't lose my grip, I held her hand directly. I awkwardly laughed it off in Chinese to the surrounding tourists, "Sorry, please let us through, thanks, thank you."
Kusanagi hadn't expected me to take her hand. She struggled slightly, her voice a bit panicked. "Hey, what are you doing?"
"I'm worried you won't be able to handle this. Let's get out of here first."
Ignoring her struggle, I shifted from just holding her palm to enveloping her entire hand so it would be harder for her to slip away.
Her hands had a long frame, with slender fingers curled inward. Her whole hand was white and icy cold; my hand couldn't easily wrap around hers.
These were the hands of a guitarist—long knuckles, relatively large. Even in the height of summer, her hands were very cold. Her fingertips lightly brushed against my palm, making it itch.
Seeing her struggle was futile, Kusanagi could only let me lead her forward.
Even the corners of her eyes were tinged with a flush. I didn't know if it was discomfort from the crowd or something else.
We soon emerged from the throng and finally breathed in some fresh air.
There were far fewer people here, only a few worshippers praying devoutly. Only then did I let go of Kusanagi's hand. My palm still felt a bit itchy—a tiny, subtle sensation that burrowed into my heart, making it flutter along with it.
"This is much better. Let's go sit over there for a while." My sharp eyes spotted an empty stone bench.
"Those stone benches over there are antiquities; you can't sit on them," Kusanagi said with a soft scoff, her voice carrying a hint of mockery. "Sit there, and the staff will chase you out."
"Ah, that fierce?"
"Yes, they'll chase you with brooms."
"Then... then let's not sit." I scratched my head sheepishly. It was my first time here, after all; I'd know better next time.
Kusanagi couldn't help herself; she pursed her lips and smiled. The wind caught her dark, soft hair. The flush at the corners of her eyes hadn't fully faded, looking both delicate and bittersweet.
This scene was like something out of a movie. This incredibly beautiful girl, her eyes full of emotion... I was almost dazed by such beauty and instinctively looked away.
It was too lethal.
Don't forget this demon's true nature. Don't be bewitched by this outer shell. She's just a naughty, stubborn brat.
Kusanagi lowered her lashes. The cool night breeze swayed her skirt before reluctantly drifting away.
I couldn't help but steal a glance at her. I never thought a girl could have such charm that even someone of the same sex would be captivated.
Also, she really was familiar with this place, knowing even the details about the stone benches. She must know Senso-ji Temple inside and out.
I couldn't resist asking, "Miss Kusanagi, you seem very familiar with Senso-ji Temple."
"What?" Kusanagi seemed surprised by my question.
"Even Japanese people don't necessarily understand the history of Senso-ji Temple so thoroughly. You give me the feeling that you've been here many times, walking every path in detail, to know the situation here like the back of your hand."
Kusanagi clearly hadn't expected me to see through her like that, and she was stunned for a moment.
She was silent for a while before finally admitting it.
"Yes, in a way, I have indeed been here hundreds or thousands of times."
There it was again—that feeling. It felt like she was shrouded in an impenetrable mist, trapped inside all alone, making one feel her loneliness and isolation.
"Hundreds or thousands of times?"
An unimaginable number. "Since when?"
"When I was only a few years old, I already visited this place in books."
She walked forward with her hands behind her back, her slender spine always held very straight, her gait full of pride. "When I was very young, I especially loved picture books. Do you know what 'lianhuanhua' are? Those kinds of booklets with many buildings, flowers, and plants drawn in them."
I caught up to her and said softly, "I know."
"I loved those booklets. I'd sleep with them every night and never let them go. My favorite was a picture book called 'Tokyo Senso-ji Temple.' It illustrated all the stories about the temple in detail. Every night before bed, I'd pester my mother to read it to me, to coax me to sleep. I was always so happy listening to it. I even searched for the history of Senso-ji Temple online; by the time I was ten, I could recite it all perfectly."
The girl lowered her head and continued walking.
"Later, my mother disappeared, and all the picture books disappeared too. I cried and threw fits for that 'Tokyo Senso-ji Temple' book, but unfortunately, no one answered me. The most ridiculous part was that less than two years later, my father married someone else. He even said, how could something seen in a book compare to the real thing?"
"What he meant was, how could my mother compare to that woman?" The girl let out a cold laugh, her tone incredibly sarcastic.
"Since then, I never looked at picture books again, and I never came to Senso-ji Temple. Not until today, with Miss Nozawa."
"Why?" After hearing such a story, my voice sounded a bit strained.
"Because Senso-ji Temple is the only place I've been familiar with since I was a child. If we went anywhere else, I was afraid I'd show my weakness." Kusanagi regained her casual expression and curled her lips into a smile. "Otherwise, what would I do if I led Miss Nozawa astray?"
I knew she was putting on a brave face. I couldn't feel happy at all seeing her smile; my heart suddenly felt a sharp, aching bitterness.
As a father, Mr. Kuroki really owed his daughter too much. Only two years after her mother passed—before her bones were even cold—had he even considered Kusanagi's feelings?
My mood felt like it was plummeting off a cliff. At the same time, I was filled with indignation, feeling that Mr. Kuroki was truly terrible, yet I had no status or standing to criticize him.
I couldn't turn a blind eye to the pain in the girl's heart. I really wanted to do something for her. Even if I couldn't change anything, I desperately wanted to do something.
Ahead was the Kannondo, the Main Hall of Senso-ji Temple.
Legend has it that the Kannondo is a place for the wishes of past and present lives. Many people come to worship and burn incense. At the incense burner in front of the Golden Kannon Statue, there was a large crowd of devout worshippers. No one was playing around; everyone burned their incense calmly. By the stone statue with the fountain, some extremely fervent worshippers would even drink the spring water, hoping to realize their wishes and seek the protection of the sacred water.
A wild idea flashed through my mind.
"Miss Kusanagi, look at me." I tightly gripped her sleeve. "Now, don't blink."
Kusanagi didn't understand, but she still nodded, her puzzled gaze locked on me.
I ran to the incense burner, made a devout wish, and tossed in a coin just like everyone else. Then, I stepped back bit by bit until I reached the stone statue with the fountain.
The worshippers gathered around the fountain were chattering away. I took a deep breath, picked up the ladle, and, under everyone's astonished gazes, drenched myself from head to toe.
"OMG... what a crazy person!" a worshipper nearby cried out.
"To think there's such a way to worship!"
One ladle wasn't enough, so I took another. The icy spring water poured down from my head. My hair, clothes, shoes, and the bag I was carrying were all soaked through.
The water flowed over the bridge of my nose, past my collarbone, down my chest and back, before splashing heavily onto the ground.
Kusanagi was naturally stunned. She covered her mouth, unable to react for a long time, before finally lifting her skirt and rushing over.
"Hey! What are you doing?!" The girl's eyes widened in shock and urgency. She didn't understand why I had suddenly done this. "You're soaked to the bone!"
"I drank the spring water, and I drenched my whole body in it. Now the sacred water will surely protect me and make my wish come true." I felt the icy water dripping from my eyelashes and chin.
"What wish?" Kusanagi was dazed. She looked at me, unable to guess what I was up to.
I couldn't imagine how she, at only a dozen or so years old, had processed these emotions. More than physical illness, this was a kind of psychological devastation; it must have been incredibly painful and helpless.
"The gods will protect you, Miss Kusanagi."
Ignoring the water on my forehead, I told her earnestly and urgently, "The gods told me to tell you that someone will love and protect you in your mother's stead. That is my wish."