Chapter 11

 Chapter 11: A Visit to the Mountain God's Abode

Early summer in the mountains bursts with vivid green.
Sunlight filters through the treetops, casting shimmering rainbows across the gentle stream. The air hums with the soothing murmur of water, and the earthy scent of damp soil and wood brings a quiet peace.

Minato inhales deeply, filling his lungs with the mountain’s fresh breath.
This place feels like home.

Below, moss-covered stepping stones float evenly across the sparkling stream.
Adjusting the brim of his cap, Minato steps carefully. Fish dart away from the stones, swimming upstream with graceful defiance.

“Watch your step,” calls Seri, the eldest of the three divine weasel spirits standing upright on the far bank with dignified poise.

Trika, the dependable middle sibling, bounds across the stones behind Minato.
“Once we cross this river, we’re almost there.”
“Got it,” Minato replies.

And then there’s Utsugi the youngest, carefree and mischievous perched backward atop Minato’s backpack, nibbling on a financier.
“Mmm, so good!”
“Chew properly,” Minato warns. “Don’t choke like the mountain god did once.”

Seri folds his arms, clearly annoyed.
“You can eat whenever you like, but why here of all places?”
“Utsugi, get down. You’re making Minato carry too much.”
“It’s fine. He’s not heavy,” Minato defends him gently.

“You spoil him,” Seri sighs, exasperated.

With a final hop, Minato lands beside them.
Together, the group continues toward an old shrine nestled halfway up the mountain—a place once visited often, now long abandoned.

The spirits had come to guide Minato after hearing his resolve to see it for himself.
They’d arrived at dawn, leading him through untamed paths and perilous cliffs no human would dare tread.

Minato had braced himself for a tough hike, but this was beyond expectation.
He silently praises his own foresight for requesting hiking boots from home.

Their sturdy soles and ankle support are a blessing.
He vows to polish them with care once he returns.

Pushing through thick branches, Minato presses forward. His well-worn boots strike the hard earth with purpose.

Eventually, the green tunnel opens to a flatter trail likely an old path once used by villagers.
Relieved, Minato follows Seri through the thicket.

But the path narrows and steepens, strewn with massive boulders.
Minato grimaces. One side is a sheer cliff, scarred by ancient rockfalls.

No recent rain means no fresh danger... hopefully.

He climbs sideways, maneuvering around the rocks.
“Such a pain,” Utsugi chirps from atop the backpack, standing and stretching like it’s a joyride.

After a long, breathless climb, they reach a clearing.

“There it is,” Seri calls.

A small stone shrine stands quietly beside the trail.
Seri and Trika pat its sides to point it out. Utsugi leaps down and scampers toward them.

Minato climbs the two stone steps.
The shrine barely reaches his chest and is covered in moss. Fallen trees lean against it, and weeds run wild.

Nature has reclaimed it. Without human care, it’s nearly indistinguishable from the mountain itself.

Minato exhales not just from fatigue, but from something deeper.

Only humans feel this kind of melancholy.

“You don’t need to clean it. The mountain god doesn’t mind,” Seri says.
“Yeah, he prefers direct respect,” Trika adds.
“Don’t leave sweets here we’ll just eat them. Hand them over!” Utsugi grins, paws raised.

Minato chuckles dryly.
The shrine’s decay speaks of time decades, maybe centuries of neglect.

Inside, beneath a fallen tree, lie three round stones.
One is split in half.

Likely placed by humans long ago, revered as sacred objects.
They were never divine, but they held meaning.

Even if it was mere symbolism, people once paused here, folded their hands, and prayed.

If faith fuels the mountain god’s power, then perhaps this humble shrine helped sustain him.

Now, it’s just moss-covered rubble.

What would those ancient worshippers feel, seeing their sacred site like this?

Minato knows his desire to clean it is selfish.
But that’s okay he’s human.

He breathes in softly.
“Once we’re done cleaning, let’s eat together.”

“Yay!” the spirits cheer behind him, ever eager.

Minato sets down his backpack.

---

After a thorough cleaning, the shrine gleams anew.
They share a joyful meal and descend the mountain.

Minato walks lightly, flanked by the spirits. His backpack feels lighter, his steps brisk.

Utsugi skips beside him.
“Can you control the wind yet? Like whoosh like a wind god!”

“A little. It’s great for drying my hair,” Minato laughs.
“Hair? Seriously?”
“Not in winter though—it’s too cold.”

He tugs his growing bangs playfully.
The spirits groan, lamenting the wasted potential.

“Not much use otherwise,” Minato shrugs.
“What about gathering leaves?”
“Too tricky. I’m still training.”

He’d once scattered leaves everywhere trying.
Now, he mostly uses his gift as a glorified hairdryer.

As they chat, a sharp bird cry pierces the air.
Branches rustle. Small birds take flight.

A warning.

The spirits’ eyes sharpen. Their playful demeanor vanishes, replaced by fierce intensity.

Minato freezes.
Without a word, the three dash upstream, leaping over stones and vanishing behind a massive boulder.

Minato scrambles after them.

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