第肆章、俗世之暇日
Chapter 4: A Day Off in the Mundane World
這是個得來不易的休日。
並非神櫻的旨意，而是御神家長老們經考量後，對巫女緊繃的弓弦有限度的鬆弛。領地周邊的瘴氣被暫時清空，結界也趨於穩定。大長老以帶著細微憐憫的語氣告知她，經「請示」獲准後，可以透過儀式調整神櫻的存在份量，讓御神櫻能攜同神櫻，以「完整」的普通人類女孩形態，外出半日。
「切勿遠離，切勿引人注目，日落前務必歸來。」
御神櫻垂首應是，心中卻有股壓抑不住的雀躍在湧動。她回到居室，褪下那身莊重卻也沉重的巫女正裝，換上了一套偷偷備好的便服——簡單的棉質上衣和牛仔褲，外搭一件淺色開襟衫，腳上是雙舒適的淑女涼鞋。這身打扮讓她看起來就像個普通的女大學生，文靜而青春。
她站在鏡前，貪婪地仔細審視著鏡中完整的「自己」。她抬起手，捏了捏自己的臉頰，真實的觸感從神經末梢傳來，帶來一種微小卻確切的幸福感。不需要靈魂絲線，不需要下達指令，抬手便是抬手，舉腳即為舉腳，神櫻會讓她肢體間的交互訊號自然地流經神體——這本也是一種「不敬」。尋常至極的體驗，於她而言卻珍貴得如同朝露。
體內的神櫻之力仍浩瀚如江河，需以意志為堤壩，時刻請求方能勉強約束。這帶來一種隱隱的滯重感，但為了片刻的自由，她心甘情願。
踏出御神家結界的瞬間，外界的聲浪與氣息如同潮水般湧來，幾乎讓她暈眩。
夏日的陽光明亮得有些刺眼，車流聲、人群的談笑聲、商店街播放的流行音樂……這些構成俗世的喧囂音符，對她而言卻如同最美妙的交響樂。她深深地吸了一口氣，空氣中混雜著汽車尾氣、食物香氣和陽光曬暖的柏油馬路味道，與神社內終年不散的檀香和靈力氣息截然不同。
她首先去了車站前的商業街。腳步不自覺地變得輕快，帶著點小跳步。她對一切都充滿了好奇：櫥窗裡陳列的當季流行服飾、抓娃娃機裡堆疊的絨毛玩具、電器行門口循環播放廣告的巨大螢幕……她像一塊海綿，貪多不厭地吸收著這充滿生機的世俗景象。
在一家裝潢可愛的飾品店前，她停下腳步。玻璃門自動開啟，發出清脆的電子音「歡迎光臨！」。她被裡面琳琅滿目、閃閃發光的小物件吸引，小心地走進去。
熱情的店員小姐立刻迎上來：「您好！請問需要什麼？這邊都是我們的新款哦！」笑容明亮而毫無陰霾。
御神櫻微微一怔，這種不帶任何敬畏的直白友善讓她有些無所適從。她抿了抿嘴，露出略顯羞澀的笑容，輕聲說：「我…隨便看看。」她的聲音因久未與外人交談而帶上一絲微啞。
「沒問題！請慢慢看，有需要隨時叫我！」店員小姐笑著走開了。
御神櫻鬆了口氣，指尖輕輕拂過一排精緻的髮夾和手鍊。冰涼的觸感，可愛的造型，都讓她心生喜悅。她拿起一個櫻花造型的鏤空書籤，對著光看了看，眼底流露出滿滿的喜歡。這種為純粹的「喜歡」而駐足的感覺，太過美好。
接著，她鑽進擠滿年輕女孩的藥妝店。空氣裡混合著各種化妝品、護膚品的香氣。她略顯笨拙地辨認著商品功能，對那些包裝可愛的面膜、色彩繽紛的指甲油感到驚奇。她甚至學旁邊女孩，拿起試用裝的護手霜，仔細地塗抹在手背上，然後輕輕嗅了嗅——是水蜜桃味。
「神櫻…會喜歡這個味道嗎？咦？為何…」念頭毫無預兆地閃過。
她的心臟像是被冰冷的手輕攥了一下，歡快的步伐有了一瞬間的停滯。片刻後，模糊的感受迴響在腦海，彷彿神體中的心在提醒她——這甜膩的香氣，與神櫻並不契合。
她猛地抬頭，四周的嘈雜人聲忽然變得遙遠，就像世界只剩下自己與腦海迴響。她強行笑了一下，把那管護手霜扔進購物籃裡。
「不管怎麼樣，我就想這麼做。」即使那顆心不再屬於御神櫻，被心驅使的她仍不甘願捨棄因它而生的「喜歡」。
尖銳的割裂感隨之而來，但她甩了甩頭，將這份落寞強行壓下。時間有限，她不能讓陰影奪走這半日的光。她需要更多、更鮮活的記憶，來填充未來漫長的孤寂。
她走過轉角，一家高級婚紗店的櫥窗，如同磁石般吸住了她的目光。
純白的婚紗被精心陳列在柔和的燈光下，層層疊疊的輕紗與蕾絲如同花朵般綻放，線條優雅而聖潔，彷彿承載著世間所有關於幸福的夢想；旁邊模特兒頸項上佩戴的鑽石項鍊璀璨奪目，每一切面都折射出令人心醉的光芒；嬌艷的捧花由玫瑰與滿天星組成，色彩飽滿，生機勃勃；而最讓她視線停留的，是櫥窗中央那一雙鑲滿細碎寶石與溫潤珍珠的婚禮高跟鞋。鞋跟優雅地挑起，鞋尖點綴精緻的蝴蝶結，閃爍著低調而奢華的光澤，彷彿每一步都能踏出星光。
御神櫻的腳步不由自主地停下了。她怔怔地望著那一抹極致的美麗與純潔，模糊而遙遠的憧憬悄然掠過心頭。想像著另一個平行時空的自己，或許也能披上這樣的白紗，戴上璀璨的項鍊，手握盛放的鮮花，穿上那雙如同灰姑娘水晶鞋般夢幻的鞋子，走向一個等待著她的人，走向一個充滿平凡氣息卻也溫馨的安穩未來。
那該是怎樣的一種感覺？
這份朦朧的憧憬剛一浮現，御神櫻立刻就感受到了「心」的反饋——彷彿某個不屬於她掌控的功能被悄然激活。她那短暫的遐想，迅速被這顆曾經屬於自已，如今卻更優先服務於另一個存在的心，評斷為「妄想」，不適宜神櫻的巫女。心念的波動如同投入深潭的石子，還未及泛起完整的漣漪，便被無形的冰冷過濾機制迅速吸收，沉入意識無法觸及的黑暗深處。
她低頭看了看自已身上簡單的棉質上衣和牛仔褲，指尖掠過布料，觸感真實卻疏遠。她更清晰感受到體內那股超越凡俗的力量，以及那份與自已身體詭異共生的命運。
白紗？她早已披上了另一種意義上的“聖潔”之衣——莊嚴卻沉重的巫女服，每一道褶皺都寫滿了責任與禁錮。
項鍊？她時常分離的頸項上，只容得空無一物；而且她最大的“項鍊”早已融入胸腔，成為她身處自體的神明。
捧花？她手中揮灑的，是退魔的符咒，而非祝福的鮮花。
高跟鞋？她看著自已腳上俏皮卻脆弱的淑女涼鞋，思緒瞬間跳轉到那雙由被神力祝福、浸透的細草繩所編織，只為淨化妖魔而存在的草鞋。她的雙腿可以承載捍衛俗世的重量，卻不可能走出幸福的腳步。
一絲淡而苦澀的喟嘆，無聲地消散在商業街喧鬧的空氣中。那櫥窗裡的美好，是一個永遠無法觸及的夢。
她看了最後一眼，轉過身，將那片純白與璀璨拋在身後，重新匯入熙攘的人流。她不回頭，卻覺得那抹純白，仍在眼底殘留不去。
接著她走進一家大型書店，在琳琅滿目的書架間穿梭，指尖劃過書脊，感受著紙張的質感。她在文具區對一款設計極簡的筆記本愛不釋手；她在漫畫區看到幾個高中生圍在一起熱烈討論，笑聲爽朗。不過，當她眼光掃過書櫃，忽然瞥見一套以巫女為主題的妄想作品時，神體內的那顆心，又發出了褻瀆的不平之鳴。
神櫻不會因此不悅，但已是神櫻一部分的那顆心，卻會指示她「理當不悅」：她必須因為神櫻而感到不悅。
至於感受到「理當不悅」的御神櫻，又該怎麼看待自己？
這荒謬的情緒讓她胸口一緊，卻連連暗暗責怪不屬於自己的心都不被允許：心可是神櫻“借”給她用的，怎能對自己侍奉的神不敬？
御神櫻連揪緊胸口都不敢，只能深深嘆息，加快腳步離開書店，彷彿逃離一場無法追問的審判。
理順心情之後，她的腳步被一家裝潢得如同夢幻城堡的甜品店絆住了。玻璃櫃裡陳列著樣式繁多，如同藝術品般精緻的蛋糕和聖代。色彩繽紛，奶油誘人，她的眼睛瞬間亮了起來。
「請問是一位嗎？」門口的店員問道。
「是…一位。」她點頭，心裡卻想，是「一位」嗎？還是…「兩位」？
她被引導到靠窗的位置坐下，窗外是熙熙攘攘的人流。她拿著複雜的菜單，研究許久，終於鼓起勇氣指向那一款鋪滿新鮮草莓、綴著馬卡龍的豪華聖代。
「請給我這個。」
等待的過程中，她雙手規矩地放在膝上，安靜地觀察周圍。約會的情侶、帶著孩子的母親、閒聊的朋友……每一幕溫馨的日常圖景，都讓她既感到溫暖，又有一絲難以言喻的酸楚。這是她只能偶爾碰觸，卻無法真正融入的世界。
隨意地抬眼望向窗外，街頭人群川流不息。但她忽然察覺，在對面的人潮裡，有一個男人靜靜站著，沒有動作也沒有表情，只是直直地注視著她。當她眨眼再看，那人已消失不見。
胸口隱隱一沉，卻被她壓下。她低頭繼續欣賞菜單上各式各樣的甜品，告訴自己：這只是錯覺。
當那杯如同小山般的聖代被端上來時，她發出了一聲驚嘆。拿起細長的勺子，小心翼翼地挖下頂端一顆沾了冰淇淋的草莓，送入口中。
冰涼甜膩，混合著牛奶味的香醇和草莓的微酸，瞬間在味蕾上炸開。極致的幸福感如同電流般竄過全身，她幾乎要落淚。
然而“不和諧音”再度響起。那顆心又讓她覺得自己在進行「無謂的享樂」。
御神櫻放下勺子，深吸一口氣，強迫自己專注於那股酸甜，勉力保持微笑，但指尖卻微微顫抖。
還好這次她有所準備，「巫女若能偶爾放鬆，也能更好地侍奉神櫻。」腦中迅速編織出辯解，像在為自己開脫。
就這樣，這盆冷水澆不熄御神櫻的興頭。她重新拿起勺子，眼底雖留著一抹陰影，嘴角卻微微上揚。
這一刻，她選擇抓緊屬於自己的快樂。她甚至有股心術不正的愉悅：反正吃是她在吃，但高熱量的冰淇淋，還是「供奉」給神體。
沒有使命，沒有神魔，也不用在乎分裂的身體與迷茫的自我。她微微眯起眼睛，享受著這短暫難得的愉悅。
陽光透過玻璃窗，暖融融地照在她身上。她小口小口地品嚐著，吃得無比認真，就像要將這份甜美的滋味，深深地刻印在記憶裡。
「真好。」她想。
若能一直這樣，該多好。
這個念頭浮現的瞬間，那份沉甸甸的熟悉滯重感，自體內深處隱隱傳來，提醒著她的桎梏與歸期。
杯中的聖代還剩下一半，但陽光已開始西斜。
她放下勺子，心中的歡愉如同潮水般緩緩退去，留下一片灑滿金色餘暉卻注定要迎來長夜的沙灘。她看向窗外，眼神裡有留戀，有落寞，但更多的是珍惜此刻的平靜。得到了半日的饋贈，已足夠她咀嚼許久。
結帳離開時，御神櫻的步伐不再像來時那般雀躍，卻多了幾分沉靜的滿足與不知何時再來的傷感。她將櫻花書籤和水蜜桃味的護手霜收好，像是收藏起發著微光的俗世碎片。
最後，她回望了一眼人潮湧動的街道。她明白，這些笑聲、喧囂、甜美的味覺，將成為支撐自己對抗永恆孤寂的薪火。
在薪火之外，還有黑暗，正悄悄地等待她回歸。
This was a hard-earned day off.
It was not a decree from Shin-ou, but a limited loosening of the taut bowstring by the Mikami elders after careful consideration. The miasma around their territory had been temporarily cleared, and the spiritual barrier was stable. The Head Elder, his tone tinged with a subtle pity, informed her that after "requesting permission," they could perform a rite to adjust the weight of Shin-ou's presence, allowing Mikami Sakura to venture out for half a day with Shin-ou, in the "complete" form of a normal human girl.
"Do not stray far. Do not draw attention to yourself. You must return before sunset."
Mikami Sakura lowered her head in assent, but an irrepressible flutter of excitement surged within her. She returned to her room, shedding the solemn and heavy formal attire of a shrine maiden and changing into a set of casual clothes she had secretly prepared—a simple cotton top and jeans, with a light-colored cardigan, and a pair of comfortable women's sandals on her feet. The outfit made her look like an ordinary university student, quiet and youthful.
She stood before the mirror, greedily examining the complete "self" within it. She raised a hand and pinched her cheek. The real sensation from her nerve endings brought a small but certain feeling of happiness. No soul threads, no commands to issue; to raise her hand was simply to raise her hand, to lift her foot was simply to lift her foot. Shin-ou would allow the interactive signals between her limbs to flow naturally through the divine body—this, in itself, was a form of "irreverence." An utterly ordinary experience that, for her, was as precious as morning dew.
The power of Shin-ou within her was still as vast as a river, requiring the dam of her will to constantly and barely restrain it. This brought a faint sense of sluggishness, but for a moment of freedom, she was more than willing to bear it.
The moment she stepped out of the Mikami family's barrier, the sounds and scents of the outside world rushed in like a tide, nearly making her dizzy.
The summer sun was almost blindingly bright. The sound of traffic, the laughter of crowds, the pop music playing from the shopping street… these clamorous notes that composed the secular world were, to her, the most beautiful symphony. She took a deep breath. The air, a mixture of car exhaust, the aroma of food, and the sun-baked smell of asphalt, was completely different from the perpetual scent of sandalwood and spiritual energy within the shrine.
She first went to the commercial street in front of the station. Her steps unconsciously became light, almost a skip. She was curious about everything: the latest fashions displayed in shop windows, the plush toys piled high in claw machines, the giant screen at the entrance of an electronics store playing looping advertisements… She was like a sponge, insatiably absorbing the vibrant, secular scenery.
She stopped in front of an accessory shop with cute decorations. The glass door opened automatically with a crisp electronic chime, "Welcome!" She was drawn in by the dazzling array of glittering trinkets and cautiously stepped inside.
An enthusiastic shop assistant immediately approached her. "Hello! Can I help you with anything? These are all our newest arrivals!" Her smile was bright and without a trace of shadow.
Mikami Sakura was taken aback for a moment; this direct friendliness, devoid of any reverence, left her at a loss. She pursed her lips, a shy smile forming, and said softly, "I'm… just looking." Her voice was slightly hoarse from not having spoken to outsiders for so long.
"No problem! Take your time, just let me know if you need anything!" the assistant said with a smile before walking away.
Sakura breathed a sigh of relief, her fingertips gently brushing over a row of exquisite hair clips and bracelets. The cool touch and cute designs filled her with joy. She picked up a sakura-shaped filigree bookmark, held it up to the light, her eyes full of affection. This feeling of stopping for the pure sake of "liking" something was far too wonderful.
Next, she slipped into a drugstore crowded with young women. The air was a mix of fragrances from various cosmetics and skincare products. She awkwardly tried to decipher the functions of the products, marveling at the cutely packaged face masks and colorful nail polishes. She even mimicked a girl next to her, picking up a tester of hand cream, carefully rubbing it onto the back of her hand, and then sniffing it gently—it was peach-scented.
Would Shin-ou… like this scent? Huh? Why… The thought flashed through her mind without warning.
Her heart felt as if it had been lightly squeezed by a cold hand, and her cheerful steps faltered for an instant. A moment later, a vague sensation echoed in her mind, as if the heart within the divine body was reminding her—this cloyingly sweet scent was not compatible with Shin-ou.
She snapped her head up. The surrounding din of the crowd suddenly seemed distant, as if she were the only one left in the world with the echo in her head. She forced a smile and tossed the tube of hand cream into her shopping basket.
"No matter what, this is what I want to do." Even if that heart no longer belonged to Mikami Sakura, the person driven by that heart was unwilling to abandon the "likes" that arose from it.
A sharp sense of fragmentation followed, but she shook her head, forcibly suppressing the melancholy. Her time was limited; she couldn't let shadows steal this half-day of light. She needed more, more vivid memories to fill the long loneliness that lay ahead.
She turned a corner, and the window of a high-end bridal boutique caught her eye like a magnet.
A pure white wedding gown was meticulously displayed under soft lighting, its layers of gossamer and lace blooming like a flower. Its lines were elegant and sacred, as if it held all the world's dreams of happiness. A dazzling diamond necklace adorned the mannequin's neck, each facet refracting an intoxicating light. A vibrant bouquet of roses and baby's breath was lush with color and life. But what held her gaze the longest was a pair of wedding heels in the center of the display, encrusted with fine gems and lustrous pearls. The heel was elegantly sculpted, the toe adorned with a delicate bow, shimmering with a low-key, luxurious luster, as if every step could conjure starlight.
Mikami Sakura's feet stopped of their own accord. She stared, mesmerized, at that vision of ultimate beauty and purity. A vague and distant longing quietly brushed past her heart. She imagined a version of herself from a parallel universe, who might also wear such a white gown, put on a brilliant necklace, hold a blooming bouquet, and slip on those shoes as magical as Cinderella's glass slippers, walking towards someone waiting for her, towards a stable future filled with the warmth of ordinary life.
What would that feel like?
The moment this hazy longing emerged, Sakura immediately felt a feedback from her "heart"—as if a function beyond her control had been quietly activated. Her brief reverie was swiftly judged by this heart—which had once been her own but now prioritized serving another entity—as a "delusion," unsuitable for the shrine maiden of Shin-ou. The ripple of her thought, like a stone cast into a deep pool, was absorbed by an invisible, cold filtering mechanism before it could even fully form, sinking into the dark depths beyond her consciousness.
She looked down at her simple cotton top and jeans, her fingertips grazing the fabric. The touch was real yet distant. She felt more clearly the transcendent power within her, and the fate that was strangely symbiotic with her own body.
A white gown? She had already donned a "sacred" garment of another kind—the solemn and heavy shrine maiden robes, every fold filled with duty and restraint.
A necklace? Her often-detached neck could only remain bare; besides, her greatest "necklace" was already fused into her chest, the god that resided within her own body.
A bouquet? What she brandished in her hands were demon-quelling talismans, not celebratory flowers.
High heels? She looked at the playful but fragile women's sandals on her feet, and her thoughts instantly jumped to the straw sandals woven from fine, spiritually blessed twine, which existed only for the purification of demons. Her legs could bear the weight of defending the mortal world, but they could never walk the path of happiness.
A faint, bitter sigh dissipated silently into the noisy air of the commercial street. The beauty in that window was a dream she could never touch.
She took one last look, turned, and left the pure white and brilliance behind her, rejoining the bustling crowd. She didn't look back, but she felt that a trace of that pure white still lingered in her vision.
Next, she entered a large bookstore, wandering between the packed shelves, her fingertips sliding over the spines, feeling the texture of the paper. In the stationery section, she fell in love with a minimalist notebook; in the manga section, she saw a few high school students gathered, discussing animatedly, their laughter bright. However, when her eyes swept over a shelf and she happened to glimpse a fantasy series themed around shrine maidens, the heart within the divine body once again let out a profane cry of indignation.
Shin-ou would not be displeased by this, but the heart that was now part of Shin-ou would instruct her that she "ought to be displeased." She had to feel displeased for Shin-ou.
And as the Mikami Sakura who felt that she "ought to be displeased," how was she supposed to view herself?
This absurd emotion made her chest tighten, yet she wasn't even allowed to silently blame the heart that wasn't hers: the heart was something Shin-ou had "lent" her to use, how could she be disrespectful to the god she served?
Mikami Sakura didn't even dare to clutch her chest. She could only sigh deeply and quicken her pace out of the bookstore, as if fleeing a judgment she could not question.
After composing herself, her steps were snared by a dessert shop decorated like a fairytale castle. The glass display case was filled with a wide variety of exquisitely crafted cakes and sundaes that looked like works of art. Colorful and creamy, they were irresistible, and her eyes instantly lit up.
"Just for one?" the staff member at the door asked.
"Yes… one." She nodded, though she thought to herself, is it "for one"? Or… "for two"?
She was led to a window seat overlooking the bustling street. She held the complicated menu, studying it for a long time, before finally mustering the courage to point to a deluxe sundae topped with fresh strawberries and macarons.
"I'll have this one, please."
While she waited, she sat with her hands placed properly on her lap, quietly observing her surroundings. Couples on dates, mothers with children, friends chatting… every scene of warm, daily life made her feel both comforted and a little sorrowful. This was a world she could only touch occasionally, but never truly join.
She glanced casually out the window at the endless stream of people on the street. But she suddenly noticed that, in the crowd opposite her, a man was standing silently, without movement or expression, simply staring straight at her. When she blinked and looked again, he was gone.
A faint weight settled in her chest, but she pushed it down. She looked back at the various desserts on the menu, telling herself: it was just a trick of the light.
When the mountain-like sundae was served, she let out a gasp of wonder. Picking up the long spoon, she carefully scooped up a strawberry coated in ice cream from the top and brought it to her mouth.
The icy sweetness, mixed with the rich flavor of milk and the slight tartness of the strawberry, exploded on her taste buds. An overwhelming sense of happiness shot through her like an electric current; she almost wanted to cry.
But the "dissonant note" sounded again. That heart once more made her feel that she was engaging in "pointless indulgence."
Mikami Sakura put down her spoon, took a deep breath, and forced herself to focus on the sweet and sour taste, struggling to maintain a smile, but her fingertips trembled slightly.
Fortunately, she was prepared this time. "If a shrine maiden can relax once in a while, she can also serve Shin-ou better." She quickly wove a justification in her mind, as if making an excuse for herself.
And just like that, this cold water could not extinguish her excitement. She picked up the spoon again. Though a shadow remained in her eyes, the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.
In this moment, she chose to hold on to her own happiness. She even felt a mischievous pleasure: anyway, she was the one eating, but the high-calorie ice cream was being "offered" to the divine body.
No mission, no demons, no need to worry about a fragmented body and a bewildered self. She squinted her eyes slightly, savoring this brief, precious pleasure.
The sun shone warmly on her through the glass window. She ate in small, deliberate bites, as if she wanted to etch this sweet taste deep into her memory.
"This is nice," she thought.
If only it could always be like this.
The moment that thought surfaced, the familiar, heavy sluggishness emanated from deep within her, a reminder of her shackles and her appointed time of return.
Half of the sundae remained in the cup, but the sun was already beginning to set.
She put down her spoon. The joy in her heart slowly receded like the tide, leaving behind a beach bathed in the golden afterglow, yet destined to welcome the long night. She looked out the window, her gaze filled with reluctance and melancholy, but mostly with a cherish for the present calm. The gift of half a day was enough for her to savor for a long time.
When she paid and left, Sakura's steps were no longer as cheerful as when she had arrived, but they carried a quiet satisfaction and a sadness for a day that might never come again. She carefully put away the sakura bookmark and the peach-scented hand cream, as if collecting faintly glowing fragments of the mundane world.
Finally, she looked back one last time at the crowded street. She understood that these sounds of laughter, this clamor, this sweet taste, would become the firewood to sustain her against an eternal solitude.
And beyond the firewood, there was darkness, quietly waiting for her to return.
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