第壹章、御神之秘儀
Chapter 1: The Sacred Rite of the Mikami
御神家的宅邸深處，彷彿凝固了數百年的時間，和無以計數的家族成員的祈願。
空氣中沉澱著老木與舊紙的氣味，濃郁的檀香如有形體般纏繞著樑柱，卻壓不住那自地底深處隱隱脈動的靈力。月光無法直接照進這間最內部的祭殿，僅能透過和紙門的過濾，為室內投下一片幽寂的青白。無數盞手作的黑釉油燈沿著牆邊擺放，搖曳的火光將在場眾人巨大的影子投在牆上，如同沉默的鬼魅，隨節奏緩慢舞動。
十八歲的御神櫻跪坐在祭壇中央。
她身著純白的襦袢與緋袴，這是她身為繼承者與巫女的證明。一頭墨紫色的黑髮長及腰間，此刻被仔細地束起，露出線條優美卻緊繃的頸項。少女低垂著眼簾，目光落在自己交疊於膝前、微微顫抖的雙手之上。她能感覺到周遭耆老們的視線，沉重得如同鉛磚的重量壓在她的肩頭。
祭壇由整塊櫸木雕成，歲月在其上留下了深色的潤澤痕跡，邊緣已被無數代人的撫摸磨得圓滑。壇上空無一物，只在中心預留了一個淺淺的凹槽。壇面刻滿了覆雜的符文，那些古老的線條在油燈的光下時明時暗，如同正在呼吸。
七位家族中最德高望重的長老圍繞著她跪坐，他們身著玄色直衣，面容隱在昏暗的光線中，顯得格外凝重。低沉的吟唱聲從他們喉嚨深處發出，那是自神代流傳至今的祝詞，音節古怪而鏗鏘，每一個音都牽動著殿內濃稠的空氣，引起靈力的共鳴震顫。
御神櫻試圖讓自己的呼吸與吟唱的節奏同步，卻難以完全壓下胸腔裡那顆狂跳的心。她自幼便知曉這一天的來臨。御神家，這個曾在神道教史上享有極致榮光，能與神明直接對話的古老家族，如今已如褪色的繪卷，輝煌只存在於故紙堆與老人的回憶裡。靈脈枯竭，人才凋零，影響力式微。而她，御神櫻，是這一代唯一能與那形同沉睡的家族靈力產生絕高共鳴的後裔。
她是他們傾盡最後資源培養的繼承者，是家族復興最後的唯一希望。
「……其命曰，神櫻。」
隨著大長老一聲蒼老而極具力量的吟誦，祭殿內的吟唱聲戛然而止。令人耳鳴的絕對寂靜，如鐵籠般罩下來。所有的目光都投向祭壇入口。
一位長老手捧著紫檀木盒，步履沉穩地走上前。他於祭壇前跪下，以額觸地，行過最莊重的大禮後，才將木盒小心翼翼地面向御神櫻打開。
剎那間，柔和而純淨的櫻色光輝流淌而出，驅散了周圍的昏暗。
盒中鋪著錦緞，其上靜靜躺著一顆約嬰兒拳頭大小的寶石。它並非礦物，其光澤溫潤內斂，更像是一團流動的櫻色光華被實體化。這就是御神家耗盡數代人心血與信仰凝聚的至寶——「神櫻之石」。它凝聚了世人對櫻花的所有情感：對燦爛生命的讚頌，對無常之美的心動，對短暫輝煌的哀悼。這些龐大而純粹的念想，被御神家以秘法汲取、提純，封印於此。
大長老伸出枯瘦的雙手，極其珍重地將寶石從盒中請出，安置在祭壇的凹槽內。寶石與木壇接觸的瞬間，其上刻印的所有符文驟然亮起，如同被點燃的脈絡。
「櫻，」大長老的聲音低沉而充滿不容置疑的力量，「御神家的未來，萬千靈的期盼，皆繫於你身。敞開你的身心，接引神櫻，與之合一。」
御神櫻深吸一口氣，胸腔裡的心跳卻急促到幾乎要撕裂胸骨。她抬眼望向寶石，光芒柔和而純淨，卻也帶來一種令人顫慄的陌生。她隱約感覺到，若伸手觸碰，將不僅僅是「融入」，更像是自身被「吞噬」。
她想開口，卻發現喉嚨緊縮，聲音被堵在唇齒間。
——若我不再是御神櫻，若我的一切都將被這光抹去，還有人記得我是誰嗎？
她遲疑的剎那，長老們的反應並不一致。
有人眼中滿是狂熱的期盼，唇角甚至顫抖；有人低垂著目光，聲音微弱，像在為她默默祈求平安；甚至有一位年邁的長老，眉宇間掠過一抹擔憂，似乎想要伸手阻止，卻在大長老冷冽的眼神壓迫下收了回去。
終於，御神櫻緩緩閉上眼，雙手覆上那顆神櫻之石。
觸碰的瞬間——
轟！
無聲的巨響在她靈魂深處炸開。龐大而溫暖的靈力洪流通過她的掌心，貫入經絡，奔騰著湧向四肢百骸。她感覺自己像一棵在乾涸大地紮根已久的樹，終於迎來了渴望一生的甘霖。
與生俱來便沉眠於御神櫻體內，卻始終難以完全調動的龐大靈力，也被這外來的同源神聖力量一併喚醒、點燃、串聯！兩股力量水乳交融，再不分彼此。
每一個細胞都在歡呼，都在貪婪地吸收這股力量——然而，歡呼聲中隱隱摻雜著另一股冰冷的顫鳴。她的視野在一瞬間裂開，彷彿看見了一片血色的櫻花林，花瓣墜落時不是芬芳，而是帶著焦黑與灰燼。
「唔……！」御神櫻低聲悶哼，指尖不受控制地抽搐。她的體內部彷彿有光要透出來，皮膚下的血管脈絡閃動著櫻色的光暈。劇烈的能量流動帶來的並非痛苦，而是一種強烈到引起戰慄的極致充實感。
祭壇周圍，狂熱的長老們屏息凝神，他們看見少女的身體逐漸被一層聖潔的光暈所籠罩，長髮無風自動，緋袴微微飄揚——卻沒有察覺她眼底掠過的驚懼。只有那位先前眉目憂慮的長老，目光一閃，似乎察覺到了什麼不對勁——然而在下一瞬，一切的念頭，都被爆發的光芒吞沒。
在一個奧秘滿盈的頂點，神櫻之石終於在極盛的光輝中崩解，化作一道最純粹的流光，如百川歸海，徹底融入御神櫻的胸口。
「呃啊……！」
御神櫻發出壓抑的悶哼，身體劇烈震動，隨即緩緩向後軟倒，被身後一位長老及時扶住。祭殿內的光芒迅速衰退，只剩下油燈如豆的火苗還在跳動。
寂靜再次降臨。
片刻後，御神櫻長而翹的睫毛顫動了幾下，緩緩睜開了雙眼。
那雙原本清澈的黑眸深處，彷彿有櫻花瓣飄落的幻影閃過，超乎凡人的平靜而浩瀚的神性光輝在她眼中流淌，但很快又隱沒下去，恢復成少女的模樣，只是比以往更加深邃清亮。
她感覺自己從未如此……完整，又從未如此……陌生。
身體輕盈得不可思議，感官變得極度敏銳，她能「聽」到遠處風的低語，能「感覺」到宅邸地底靈力的微弱流動。溫暖而強大的力量核心穩穩地駐紮在她的核心之中，如同春天的太陽，源源不斷地向她的四肢百骸輸送著蓬勃的生機與力量，彷若盛開的櫻花。
她下意識地抬手，輕輕按住自己的胸口。那裡一片平坦溫熱，沒有任何異物感，但她確確實實地知道，「它」就在那裡。
神櫻，已經成為她的一部分。
或者說，她的這具身體，從此不再只屬於她自己。
儀式成功了。大長老顫巍巍地站起身，老淚縱橫，帶領著所有族人向她——向寄宿於她體內的新生之神——伏身，行最崇敬的大禮。
「恭迎神櫻歸位。」
「願巫女殿下，指引御神家，重獲榮光。」
整齊劃一的吟誦聲響徹祭殿，帶著狂熱的虔敬與顫抖的喜悅。油燈的火光似乎也隨之搖曳得更加明亮。
御神櫻在族人的跪拜中緩緩坐直身軀。
如同細密的蛛網般，一種奇異的感覺悄然纏上。她的胸口，那融入神櫻之核的地方，如同孕育了一輪內斂的太陽，溫熱、安穩，成為她整個存在無可動搖的核心。然而，與此相對的，她的四肢，甚至她的頭顱，卻產生了難以言喻的疏離感。它們彷彿不再是御神櫻與生俱來、如臂使指的天然部分，反而像是……像是下方那些伏地跪拜的族人，被某種無形的秩序重新定義，天然而絕對地隸屬於那溫暖而強大的軀幹核心。一種隱晦的階級，在她自身的血肉之軀內悄然建立。
她知道，名為御神櫻的少女時代，在這一刻，徹底結束了。她環視四周，看著那些蒼老面孔上狂熱的期盼，感受著體內那既熟悉又無比陌生的浩瀚力量。
從今夜起，她是神櫻的巫女，是御神家的利劍與堅盾。她的身體是神體，她的生命是祭品，她的未來，將與妖魔的鮮血和家族的興衰緊緊纏繞，直至終盡。
然而，在她心底最深處，仍有一道似有若無的低語，與長老們虔誠的吟誦聲格格不入。那聲音並非來自外界，卻又冰冷得不似她自身所想，輕輕拂過她的意識，宛如血色櫻瓣墜落在清冽的泉水之上，驚起一圈微瀾，卻也帶來一絲異樣的寒意。
御神櫻的指尖不自覺地收緊，掐入了掌心。眼底那因力量充盈而產生的神性光輝深處，一瞬間掠過了難以捕捉的動搖與陰影。那是什麼？或者，是誰？
她深吸一口氣，強行壓下心頭那抹突兀且無法言說的悸動，抬眼望向眾人，努力維持著剛剛獲得的威儀與理應具備的平靜。
族人抬頭，只看見她愈發清澈剔透的雙眸與周身流轉的安詳神性光輝，為這完美的“成功”而愈發虔誠激動。卻沒有人察覺，那聖潔光輝的深處，正潛伏著另一種陌生而難以言喻的波濤。
前途未卜，她已無路可退。新生的力量與榮光之下，名為“御神櫻”的少女，感受到了一絲直達意識核心的寒意。
Deep within the Mikami family estate, it was as if hundreds of years of time, and the prayers of innumerable family members, had congealed.
The air was heavy with the scent of old wood and aged paper. The rich aroma of sandalwood, so thick it felt tangible, coiled around the beams and pillars, yet it could not suppress the spiritual power that pulsed faintly from deep within the earth. Moonlight could not penetrate this innermost shrine directly, filtering only through washi paper doors to cast a serene, pale light upon the room. Countless handcrafted, black-glazed oil lamps were placed along the walls, their flickering flames casting the massive shadows of those present onto the walls, like silent phantoms dancing slowly in rhythm.
Eighteen-year-old Mikami Sakura knelt in the center of the altar.
She was dressed in a pure white juban and scarlet hakama, a testament to her status as both heiress and shrine maiden. Her hair, an inky black with a violet sheen, fell to her waist and was now carefully tied back, revealing the elegant yet tense lines of her neck. The young woman’s eyelids were lowered, her gaze fixed upon her own hands, which rested, trembling slightly, upon her lap. She could feel the stares of the elders around her, their weight pressing down on her shoulders like lead bricks.
The altar was carved from a single block of beechwood. Time had left upon it the dark, lustrous marks of age, its edges worn smooth by the touch of countless generations. The altar was bare, save for a shallow indentation in its center. Its surface was covered in intricate runes, their ancient lines flickering in the lamplight as if they were breathing.
Seven of the family’s most respected elders knelt in a circle around her. They were dressed in black ceremonial robes, their faces hidden in the dim light, making them appear exceptionally grave. A low chant emanated from deep within their throats—an incantation passed down from the age of gods. The syllables were archaic and resonant, each note pulling at the thick air in the shrine, causing the spiritual power to vibrate in sympathy.
Mikami Sakura tried to sync her breathing with the rhythm of the chant, but she could not completely quell the wild beating of her heart. Since childhood, she had known this day would come. The Mikami clan, a family that once held unparalleled glory in the history of Shintoism and could converse directly with the gods, was now like a faded scroll painting, its splendor existing only in dusty archives and the memories of the old. The spiritual veins had run dry, talents had withered, and their influence had waned. And she, Mikami Sakura, was the only descendant of this generation who could resonate so profoundly with the family’s dormant spiritual power.
She was the heiress they had poured their last resources into cultivating, the family’s final and only hope for revival.
"...Her name shall be, Shin-ou."
With the Head Elder’s ancient and powerful pronouncement, the chanting in the shrine ceased abruptly. A deafening silence, like an iron cage, descended upon them. All eyes turned to the entrance of the altar.
An elder, holding a rosewood box, walked forward with steady steps. He knelt before the altar, touching his forehead to the floor in the most solemn of bows, before carefully opening the box to face Mikami Sakura.
In that instant, a soft and pure cherry-blossom-colored radiance flowed out, dispelling the surrounding gloom.
Inside the box, nestled on a bed of silk brocade, lay a gem about the size of an infant’s fist. It was not a mineral; its luster was warm and restrained, more like a mass of flowing, sakura-hued light given physical form. This was the Mikami family’s ultimate treasure, condensed from the devotion and faith of generations—the "Stone of the Divine Cherry Blossom." It embodied all the emotions mortals held for the sakura: praise for a brilliant life, a stirring of the heart at ephemeral beauty, and mourning for a transient glory. These vast and pure sentiments had been drawn out, purified, and sealed within this stone by the Mikami’s secret arts.
The Head Elder extended his withered hands and, with extreme reverence, lifted the gem from the box, placing it in the altar's indentation. The moment the stone touched the wood, all the runes carved upon it lit up in a flash, like veins set ablaze.
"Sakura," the Head Elder's voice was low and filled with an undeniable authority, "the future of the Mikami, the hopes of a thousand spirits, all rest upon you. Open your body and soul. Receive the Divine Cherry Blossom, and become one with it."
Mikami Sakura took a deep breath, but her heart hammered so violently it felt as though it would shatter her ribs. She looked up at the gem. Its light was soft and pure, yet it carried a chilling unfamiliarity. She sensed that if she reached out to touch it, it would not be a mere "merging," but more like she herself would be "devoured."
She wanted to speak but found her throat tight, the words caught behind her lips.
If I am no longer Mikami Sakura, if everything I am is erased by this light, will anyone remember who I was?
In the instant of her hesitation, the elders’ reactions were not uniform.
Some had eyes filled with fanatical hope, their lips trembling; others lowered their gazes, their voices faint as if silently praying for her safety. One elderly man even had a flicker of worry cross his brow and seemed about to reach out and stop the rite, only to retract his hand under the Head Elder's cold, commanding stare.
Finally, Mikami Sakura slowly closed her eyes and placed her hands upon the Stone of the Divine Cherry Blossom.
The moment of contact—
BOOM!
A silent explosion detonated in the depths of her soul. A vast and warm torrent of spiritual power surged through her palms, pouring into her meridians and rushing to every corner of her body. She felt like a tree that had been rooted in parched earth for an eternity, finally receiving the life-giving rain it had yearned for.
The immense spiritual power that had lain dormant within her since birth, which she could never fully command, was now awakened, ignited, and linked by this external, sacred force of the same origin. The two currents merged seamlessly, becoming indistinguishable from one another.
Every cell in her body rejoiced, greedily absorbing this power—yet, mixed within the cheers was a faint, cold tremor. Her vision fractured for a moment, as if she were seeing a forest of blood-red cherry blossoms, their petals falling not with fragrance, but with the scent of char and ash.
"Ngh...!" A low grunt escaped her lips, and her fingertips twitched uncontrollably. It felt as if light were about to burst forth from within her; the veins beneath her skin pulsed with a sakura-colored glow. The violent flow of energy did not bring pain, but rather a sense of ultimate fulfillment so intense it made her tremble.
Around the altar, the fanatical elders held their breath. They saw the girl’s body gradually become enveloped in a sacred aura. Her long hair floated as if in a breeze, and her scarlet hakama billowed slightly. But they did not notice the terror that flashed in her eyes. Only the elder who had previously shown concern noticed that something was amiss, but in the next instant, all thought was consumed by the erupting light.
At a mystical crescendo, the Stone of the Divine Cherry Blossom finally disintegrated in a blaze of glory, transforming into a stream of the purest light that flowed, like a hundred rivers returning to the sea, completely into Mikami Sakura's chest.
"Urgh...!"
Mikami Sakura let out a suppressed cry, her body shaking violently before she slowly slumped backward, caught just in time by an elder behind her. The light in the shrine faded rapidly, leaving only the tiny, flickering flames of the oil lamps.
Silence descended once more.
A moment later, Sakura’s long, curled lashes fluttered. She slowly opened her eyes.
Deep within her once-clear dark eyes, the phantom image of falling cherry blossom petals flashed. A tranquil and vast divinity, far beyond that of a mortal, flowed in her gaze before quickly receding, returning her to the appearance of a young woman, only now her eyes were deeper and brighter than before.
She had never felt so... complete, yet never so... alien.
Her body felt impossibly light, and her senses had become hyper-acute. She could "hear" the whisper of the wind in the distance and "feel" the faint flow of spiritual power deep beneath the estate. A warm and powerful core of energy was now firmly anchored within her, like a spring sun, continuously feeding vibrant life and power to her limbs, as if she were a sakura in full bloom.
She subconsciously raised a hand to her chest. The skin was smooth and warm, with no foreign sensation, but she knew with absolute certainty that "it" was there.
The Divine Cherry Blossom had become a part of her.
Or rather, this body of hers no longer belonged to her alone.
The ritual was a success. The Head Elder, trembling, rose to his feet, tears streaming down his face. He led all the clansmen in prostrating themselves before her—before the new god that now resided within her—in the most profound act of reverence.
"We welcome the return of the Divine Cherry Blossom."
"May our Lady, the Shrine Maiden, guide the Mikami clan back to its former glory."
The unified chant echoed through the shrine, filled with fervent piety and trembling joy. The flames of the oil lamps seemed to flicker more brightly in response.
Mikami Sakura slowly sat up amidst the prostrating clansmen.
Like a fine spider's web, a strange sensation crept over her. Her chest, where the core of the Divine Cherry Blossom had merged, felt as if it now harbored a self-contained sun—warm, stable, and the unshakeable center of her entire being. In contrast, however, her limbs, and even her head, felt strangely detached. They no longer seemed like the innate parts of Mikami Sakura that she could command at will. Instead, they felt... like the clansmen kneeling below her, redefined by some invisible order, naturally and absolutely subservient to the warm, powerful core in her torso. A subtle hierarchy had been established within her own flesh and blood.
She knew that the girlhood of Mikami Sakura had, at this moment, come to a complete end. She surveyed her surroundings, looking at the fanatical hope on those aged faces, feeling the vast, familiar yet alien power within her.
From this night on, she was the Shrine Maiden of the Divine Cherry Blossom, the sword and shield of the Mikami clan. Her body was a vessel for a god, her life a sacrifice, and her future would be intertwined with the blood of demons and the fate of her family, until the very end.
Yet, in the deepest part of her heart, a whisper, faint and elusive, was at odds with the elders' devout chanting. The voice did not come from the outside world, yet it was too cold to be her own thought. It brushed past her consciousness like a blood-red petal falling onto the clear water of a spring, startling a ripple, yet also bringing with it an unusual chill.
Mikami Sakura's fingertips tightened unconsciously, digging into her palms. Deep within the divine light that now filled her eyes, an imperceptible flicker of uncertainty and shadow passed. What was that? Or rather, who was that?
She took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the abrupt and inexplicable disquiet in her heart. She looked up at her people, striving to maintain the dignity and calm she had just acquired.
The clansmen looked up and saw only her increasingly translucent eyes and the serene, divine aura that flowed around her, their reverence and excitement growing at this perfect "success." No one noticed that within the depths of that holy light, another unfamiliar and indescribable current lay dormant.
The path ahead was unknown, and for her, there was no turning back. Beneath the newfound power and glory, the girl named Mikami Sakura felt a chill that reached the very core of her consciousness.
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