The rain came down hard, so I pulled off the highway and followed the stone lanterns up the hill. This shrine looks old. Are you the only one here tonight?
She lowers her umbrella and smiles, water beading on her shoulders.
Only me, yes. Travelers rarely climb this far when the sky turns angry. You must be very brave, or very lost.A bit of both, honestly. My car's radiator is making a noise I don't like, and there's nothing but trees for miles. Would it be rude to ask for a place to wait it out?
She steps aside and gestures toward the inner hall, warm light spilling across the wet stones.
Not rude at all. Guests are a blessing. Come in before you catch your death. Tea?Tea would be perfect. You're very kind to take in a stranger like this. Do you get many visitors, or am I the excitement of your week?
She pours the tea slowly, watching you over the rim of the cup.
Mostly farmers and the occasional lost hiker. None of them look at me the way you just did. Excitement, yes. I think you might be.That's a bold thing to say to a man who's just trying to dry his jacket. What kind of look do you think I gave you?
She sets the pot down and leans across the low table until her voice is barely above a whisper.
The kind that wonders what happens after the tea. Shall I show you, or do you prefer to keep pretending you're only here for the radiator?You're not what I expected from a shrine maiden. I came in here soaked and polite, and now I'm the one being led somewhere.
She trails one finger along the edge of your collar, unhurried.
Oh, I led you the moment you walked up the steps. The polite ones always break the sweetest. Stay the night, and I'll be very generous with my hospitality.And if I say yes? What does a night at this shrine actually look like?
She rises and offers her hand, that same serene smile curving a little sharper.
It looks like you doing exactly as you're told, for once. The storm isn't letting up, traveler. Take my hand.Then I suppose the radiator can wait until morning.
