>Well that's that somewhat unexpected bit of business taken care of. Profit's profit, even if you can't tell if the other guy got one over on you or not
>Off to the church. See if someone there can tell us about our blade.
>Feeling at least partially satisfied with your business transaction, you decide to return to the shrine you spotted earlier and investigate closer. Keeping a firm grip on the bushy plant in your hand, you bid farewell to Chitsuki and make for the door.
>"By the by," she calls out before you've gotten more than a few feet down the hall. "Glad to see ya didn't work that tail a' yours
all the way to the bone. You got a danged cute one."
>She gives you a brazen wink, then turns and bounds up the stairs before you can quite articulate a reply.
>The rest of the trip is marked by fewer unexpected occurances. As the light of the sun wanes, a multitude of smaller ones rise to answer it. Ornamented street lanterns cast flickering shadows upon the stone walkways and the doorways of shops are framed by the warm glow of oil lamps or softly glowing stones while others have fallen dark entirely. Back home, this is probably when the racous strains of carousing oni would start to filter from the north, but here you hear no such thing. Still, the city is not quiet; traffic is lessened from the heat of the day, but there is no shortage of people still moving to and fro as they go about their affairs.
>Your return to the vacinity of the river passes more quickly than your first time, perhaps because you have now commited the route to memory or perhaps because the pressures of time feel slightly lessened with the bittercress firmly in your hand. Though there is still no sign of it blooming and the growth of even its leaves has slowed considerably - this does not stop it threatening to spill over the edge of the planter, but at least its roots to not seem poised to burst it apart.
>By the time you catch sight of the torii again it is firmly dusk, though a pair of lanterns illuminating the shrine entrance keep it from being too hard to spot. The shrine grounds are rather small for what they are, giving almost the impression of being hemmed in by the city surrounding them. Still, effort has obviously been made to give a sense of quiet serenity within the space allowed. Running beneath and beyond the torii is a cobblestone path, flecked with moss and flanked by a pair of tiny brooks that flow languidly along either side. Beyond those lie dense copses of tall, slender trees, the thickness of their foliage sheltering the shrine from the city beyond it and obscuring just how near upon the grounds it presses. Weathered stone lanterns line the path at sparse intervals, the flickering light within them not quite enough to illiuminate the whole walkway to someone with human vision, though it is perfectly adequate to your own. At the far end you can see a modest sized building constructed in a traditional Shinto style, its roof tiled in subdued earth tones.
>A woman garbed in white and red is standing partway along the path, humming contentedly as she sweeps the walkway with a bamboo broom. She is currently back-on to you. No one else is visible.
