Epilogue: A Gap in the Divine Banquet
時光荏苒，距離那場在後巷垃圾堆中徹底崩潰的慘劇已過去數年。
御神家神社如今香火鼎盛，門庭若市。曾經式微的家族，在「神櫻巫女」以血與淚奮戰換來的功績下，不僅重拾榮光，更與政商權貴建立了緊密的紐帶。這股力量，足以在檯面下操弄警、檢調查方向和媒體風向，將妖魔和戰鬥造成的騷動巧妙地轉化為「瓦斯爆炸」或「特殊部隊演習」，或乾脆以更顯目的事件覆蓋。
至於少數流出的淨化過程目擊情報與照片，御神家有一套縝密的應對機制。透過嫻熟的網路輿情操縱，他們能迅速將主流認知引導至「AI深度偽造影片」、「軟體惡作劇修圖」等方向，再輔以大量刪除貼文、洗版灌水等操作，最終將這些「都市傳說」予以「默殺」。如此一來，御神櫻的除魔活動，便被一張無形的社會保護網所籠罩，於大眾認知中悄然隱去。
此外，神櫻的力量並非僅能運用於戰鬥與祓魔。時常有來自「外界」的參拜者，懷抱著各種祈願前來：或許是渴望祓除纏身的厄運與詛咒，或許是祈求一絲珍貴的幸運，或許是來接受那純淨靈光的治癒，又或者……僅僅是為了謁見神顏，親眼一睹於神龕中靜靜散發威儀光輝的神體，讓雙眼浸潤於那莊嚴聖潔之美，藉以撫平內心的躁動或填補靈魂的空隙。
每逢這般場合，御神櫻（頭顱）總會悄然隱匿於暗處，靜靜觀察。當她望見人們那無比虔誠、熱切的目光，盡數聚焦於神體之上時，心中總會泛起一種難以言喻的微妙羞赧與悸動：儘管眾人眼中所見，是至高無上的神櫻，但那具正承受著熾熱信仰的軀體，曾是她的一部分。每一份投向神櫻的殷切期望，猶如一顆顆投入她心湖的石子，激起層層疊疊的漣漪。她以一種無法宣之於口的方式，暗自品味著這份奇異的連結所帶來的溫暖與滿足；當然，若內心活動「過於三八」或「不夠莊重」，也可能引來體內那顆「心」基於神櫻立場的冰冷導正。無論如何，她終究為「己身化為神體」這原本只會帶來對自身存在之質疑的事實，找到了一條能夠細細品味，甚至汲取些許隱秘慰藉的路徑。
有時候，在神櫻的「默許」下——或者更精確地說，當「心」判定此舉符合「展示神威、凝聚信仰」的需求時——她也會將分散的部件重新聚合，以「神櫻之巫女」的完整形貌示人，讓信眾得以仰望她端麗的容顏與優雅非凡的身姿。
一般來說，即使信眾知道神櫻附著在巫女身上，也不易深刻理解兩者關係之奧秘。在他們眼中，御神櫻便是神意的直接化身，舉手投足皆被視為神聖意志的體現。他們無從得知，那完美儀態背後，是一場何等精密而壓抑的內在運算。
對御神櫻而言，這無異於一場「被迫」表演。她必須將體內那非人神性的莊嚴肅穆，一絲不苟地轉化為自己的外在舉止。腦海中任何不合時宜的雜念——比如某位信徒的髮型很滑稽，或是舞動中的神體扭得還真好看——都會立刻引來「心」毫不留情的糾正，如同無形的戒尺狠狠抽打在思緒上，強制歸於符合神格的澄明寂靜。
於是，當眾人為她優雅細膩的手指動作、行雲流水的舞步而如痴如醉，感動落淚時，御神櫻的內在往往處於奇特的「放空」狀態。她將自我的意識後撤，成為通道，體察「心」中關於「神該如何行動」的冰冷指示，再將其精準無誤地轉化為具體行動指令。她常事後戲稱那樣的自己像極了最新型的「智能機器人」，不光要執行動作，大腦還得忙著進行實時「編譯」——把抽象的神性意圖「翻譯」成身體能理解的程式碼，忙到大腦差點當機。
雖然是玩笑，全身全心服侍於神社的傳統派族人們聽不懂「編譯」、「當機」這些外界詞彙，他們面面相覷，只當巫女大人又說了什麼深奧難解的神諭。
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光陰漫長，其中的絕大部分，往往還是留給獨處——或者更準確地說，「己」與「神」的相處。沒有族人環繞，無需信眾仰望，更不必強求形體合一。在這裡，神祇高踞其位；而御神櫻，就只是御神櫻。
神社深處的幽靜院落裡，櫻花常年盛開，並非自然之理，而是受到散發著柔和神光的「神櫻」所庇蔭的永恆春境。
御神櫻的頭顱，安然懸浮於這神聖軀體之前。她早已對身體分處多地的奇異感習以為常。幾縷銀白的靈魂絲線，從她的頸項下伸出，延伸開去：一端繫著在廊下懸空執筆，潛心練習書道的兩臂；另一端，則連向那佇立於最絢爛的櫻樹下的雙腿。它們規矩地套上純白的「御祓足袋『白淨』」，踏著靈力內蘊的「破邪草履『神征』」，以完整的神器姿態，沐浴在無盡飄落的花瓣雨中，靜默而莊嚴，彷彿隨時準備承接並執行神旨。
她的目光輕輕掠過那雙站得筆直，透出幾分凜然氣息的腿，嘴角不禁彎起淺淺的弧度。思緒飄回了多年前，那截在混戰中被妖魔利爪勾斷的右腳拇趾——記憶中，它還塗著俏麗的櫻色指甲油，卻可笑又可悲地滾落在地，沾滿污穢與塵泥。
如今那同一截趾頭，早已癒合如初，正英姿勃發地挺立在「御祓足袋」的內甲之中。它不再是那個追求嬌俏卻狼狽落難的可笑殘片，而是成了一名率領外甲中其餘四趾，衝鋒在最前線的英勇士兵。
真令人欣慰，是吧，「心」？
「今日，想嘗試一些新事物呢，神櫻大人。」念頭一轉，她輕聲低語，在腦海裡與神明說話。思緒奔湧，帶著刻意試探的意味：
「說起來，這神體雖然曾是我的一部份，但後來更像是御神家族共同心願的凝聚。長老們以前總是畢恭畢敬，連碰都不敢亂碰。現在我若用指尖…輕輕劃過鎖骨的位置，會怎樣呢？」
思緒剛落，一股清晰無比的情緒瞬間自「心」中湧現——並非憤怒，更像是一種基於特定規則進行判斷後的「不認可」，像一道無形禁令，標記此舉為「不敬」、「非儀禮所需」。
御神櫻接收了「心」對腦海的審理，但她的嘴角卻微微揚起。早就料到了。
「果然呢。但是…」頭顱更飛近神體，她在腦海中繼續構築話語，並小心翼翼地為其包裹上一層「敬神」的外衣，「肌膚若蒙塵埃，會影響神體的威儀吧。每日的清潔，不正是為了維持您的純淨嗎？觸碰與感知，亦是檢查的一部分。這並非褻瀆，而是…更深層的奉仕。」
她將「好奇與試探」重新包裝成「盡職與維護」。
「心」的反饋遲滯了難以覺察的一瞬。先前那股「不認可」的情緒漸漸褪去，轉而化為一種平靜的默許，甚至帶有微弱的「應喜悅」——並非神櫻感到喜悅，而是「心」這個機制，判定巫女此刻的動機符合「奉神」之邏輯，故反饋以正向的情緒。
「成功了。」御神櫻暗道。空閒的左手飛來，摸上鎖骨，感受到輕觸肌膚的刺激，也感受著「心」提供的欣喜。持續的摸索沒有白費，她越來越能掌握與這「神性介面」的溝通方式。她明白，那股彷彿源自神櫻的「怒意」或「喜悅」，其實只是「心」這個精密機關，根據她自身的言行與思緒，即時運算後「分配」給她的動機燃料。神櫻本身，是概念，是力量，是機制，是純粹的「它」，而非擁有情感的「祂」。
有時她玩得過火，提出太離經叛道的想法——例如以靈魂絲線操控神體做瑜珈，或在清潔神體時貼貼紙——「心」的反應便會極其劇烈，她的腦海會像被無形之手粗暴地翻攪，每一條「錯誤」的思緒都被揪出，貼上鮮紅的「謬誤」、「不當」、「無價值」的標籤，那種精神上的鞭笞足以讓她頭痛欲裂。
但，也僅止於此了。
「心」能強行扭曲她對事物的價值判斷，卻無法刪除她的記憶。她曾因此感到畏懼，但留存的記憶仍可伺機引動。她想通了：「我沒辦法『擁有』自我，但至少我能『使用』，以我的方式。」
大長老於去年冬日溘然長逝。那位完成了「神櫻之石」，將其融入她體內，一手創造並始終壓制著「神櫻的巫女」的老人一走，家族中再無人能以絕對權威俯視她。畢竟，還有誰能比「神櫻的巫女」本身更了解神櫻？
消息傳來時，她正在院中賞櫻。聽聞後，沒有雀躍或哀傷，就只是靜默。預期中的巨大解脫感並未立刻來臨，取而代之的是非常複雜的空洞與失重，彷彿長年緊繃對抗的一根弦線突然崩斷，讓整個樂器的共鳴都變得陌生起來。她卸下了最沉重的枷鎖，也彷彿失去了某個定義自身存在座標的參照物。
然而，這種空蕩感並未持續太久。很快的，空洞便被前所未有的輕盈與自主所填滿。她從這內在的桎梏與外在的壓迫中，都爭取到了前所未有的縫隙。
此刻，她的一個念頭流轉。
連接著靈魂絲線的左手輕巧地飛過，穩穩端起案几上那一小碟鮮紅色的極辣仙貝——這是她近日悄悄委託親信巫女從山下買回的「違禁品」。
「神櫻大人，您洞察世情，當知人間需百味調和之理。這辛辣之味，亦是萬千眾生活力奔湧的煙火氣息。」她在心中虔敬地稟告，同時細心將每一個念頭包裹上虔誠的外衣：「讓您卑微的巫女親身品嘗，或許能更深刻地體悟您所庇佑的紅塵百態，從而以更圓融的智慧履行職責？」
「心」靜默了片刻，未有傳來斥責或否定的波動，算是默許了。
左手優雅地將一塊仙貝送至她唇邊。她細細咬下，瞬間狂暴的辛辣感在口中炸開，帶來她期盼已久的刺激與愉悅。但這還不是全部——隨著咀嚼吞嚥，食物經過喉嚨後，便透過那無形的連結被「傳送」至神體之內。很快，一股明顯的灼熱扭動自胃部傳來，御神櫻的嘴角忍不住勾起一抹得逞的狡黠笑意。
看來，神櫻大人確實「收到」了這份熾烈的供奉。
接下來是小腸，接下來是大腸，接下來是直腸，接下來……
神的巫女興致勃勃地「追蹤」這股熱流在神體內的旅程。她將整碟仙貝吃得一乾二淨，甚至開始期待起明日清晨即將降臨的那陣火辣辣的儀式。「既然身為神祇擁有了人的軀體，那麼體驗這軀體的一切奧妙，不也是理所當然的嗎？」她理直氣壯地想著，隨即感受到「心」傳來一陣帶著警告意味的波動。「哎呀，失禮了，下次一定改進。」她從善如流地默念，語氣卻聽不出多少悔意。
就在御神櫻沉浸於這場對神明的無傷大雅的惡作劇之時，一陣熟悉的空間扭曲與微弱瘴氣自結界邊緣傳來。有妖魔靠近了，實力低微，像是被什麼吸引而誤入的小卒。
幾乎同一時間，「心」已驅動腦海完成戰情分析，傳來一串不帶溫度的指示——與其放任其在外徘徊窺探，不如誘敵深入，一舉祓除。
御神櫻輕輕嘆了口氣。即便經歷了這麼多次，她仍難以完全習慣這種奇特體驗：就像個置身事外的觀測者，眼睜睜看著自己的「認知模組」——這是她從外界學來，用以戲稱自己腦海的詞——被另一個存在，即便是由她昔日之心所化的「心」，強制徵用、驅動運轉。
帶著幾分清閒被打斷的微慍，她迅速依照指令操作起神體這「控制台」：設定神力釋放分佈，調節結界參數，使之產生暫態縫隙；同時刻意降低神體本徵輻射的能量場階級，佈下無形的誘捕陷阱——這是巫女偏好的科幻風味自述方式。那隻小妖果然如預期般依循著演算軌跡，渾然不覺地踏進了這片它根本無權闖入的神聖領域。
她的頭顱依舊悠然懸浮於原處，不慌不忙地輕咬左手遞來的最後一片仙貝，細細咀嚼品味，彷彿遠處的騷動與她無關。她的右臂雖（套著「鎮靈」袖套）卻已從書道練習的禪心抽離，凌空劃出祓魔的符印，懸停待命以防萬一，如同一支可靠的預備隊。
早已嚴陣以待的雙腿靈力奔湧，凝聚為破邪武裝。右腿膝蓋猛地彎折，小腿肌肉緊繃，青筋微現，曾經斷裂又復原的拇趾率先發力，足尖猛地一蹬——破邪草履底部迸射出耀眼的靈力火光，被御祓足袋緊緊包裹的整條腿，化身為一道純白的疾光迅雷，骨刺長鞭撕裂空氣，直奔瘴氣源頭。
而始終保持嚴整站姿的左腿，靈力太刀的鋒刃之上，僅是寒芒流轉，發出一聲低沉嗡鳴，以示無聲的警戒與威壓。
巫女多年的修為與無數次戰鬥歷練，早已將這一切化為本能。整個過程如行雲流水，她的頭顱甚至沒有轉過去看一眼。感官透過靈魂絲線共享狀態意識，戰鬥交由分離的部件自主執行，高效、精準，絕不留情。對她而言，不過是日常中又一次微不足道的「清掃」。
片刻之後，戰勝的右腿回歸，骨刺長鞭尖端縈繞的最後一絲瘴氣，被右手指尖燃起的凈化青焰瞬間吞噬，化作一縷青煙。院落重歸寧靜，唯有櫻花無聲飄落。
御神櫻滿足地嚥下最後一口仙貝，嘴被辣到有些發麻，而貼心的左手已穩穩遞上一杯溫潤的清茶。
她凝望眼前這具縱然胃袋與凡人的一樣不耐辣，仍散發非人般的莊嚴，流轉著絢麗神光的神體，同時細細感知歸位的四肢。
雙腿佇立如松。一馬當先的右腿像個心神內斂的武者，沉浸於自身的修行，周身不見歷經殺伐的波動；始終鎮守原位的左腿，則散發著磐石般的沉靜氣質，靈刀鋒芒雖隱，卻蓄勢待發；右臂則回到廊下，指尖靈焰散盡，再次執起筆，纖巧的手繼續書寫那未完的字帖，筆鋒沉穩，彷彿從未離開；而左手依舊隨侍在側，並在她需要時，恰到好處地將茶杯輕貼至她唇邊，輕巧殷勤的姿態，宛如依人的小鳥。
一股難以言喻的奇妙感受在她心中漾開——這些肢體與神體，不再只是受她驅使或驅使她的部件，而是可以相互倚靠的夥伴，甚至像共享著無形羈絆的家人。她依然無法以人類的方式與它們對話，也感受不到任何情感上的直接回饋，但它們卻如此鮮活地存在著，彷彿各自擁有迥異的脾性，卻又合作無間。
御神櫻轉頭，靜靜凝視著漫天繽紛的落櫻。只見數片柔軟的花瓣，飄落在雙腿光滑的斷面……那個與她相連的「通聯介面」上，捎來一陣極其細微，卻也令人莫名開心的靈力擾動，宛如一聲輕柔的問候。
啊啊，多麼美好啊。光是這樣與「自己」靜靜相處，便已不再感到寂寞。
———
道路確實在她腳下逐漸拓寬。內在的神性雖依舊冰冷如精密機械，她卻已學會如何與之溝通，甚至巧妙引導；外在的家族與廣闊俗世，她也憑藉力量與智慧，贏得了話語權與活動空間。
她仍是「神櫻的巫女」，從靈魂到軀殼皆為神所有。
但她也鑿出一條狹窄卻堅實的縫隙，能讓自我意識於其中蜿蜒前行，讓自己為己所用。
「嗯…下次清潔神體後，來試著說服『心』，幫神體換上比基尼，以更『彰顯神體天然純粹之美、歌頌生命線條之悅』，如何？」包裹著華麗辭藻的大膽「悖德」念頭閃現。她甚至惡作劇般地在腦海中勾勒出那幅極不協調的畫面：聖潔的神體穿著鮮豔俗麗的比基尼，出現在莊重嚴肅的儀式裡，那該是多麼驚世駭俗的滑稽景象。
幾乎是同時，「心」傳來極為強烈的預防性警告波動。基於「絕對邏輯謬誤」判定的暴力否定洪流澎湃地淹沒了她的意識，如同整個認知系統被強制重啟，帶來一剎那劇烈的暈眩與認知空白，彷彿大腦的線路被強行拔插了一遍。
「哇喔！」一聲，御神櫻被腦海的翻湧激盪衝擊到睜眼乍舌，不過她又不是沒有體驗過。稍事喘息後，隨即輕笑出聲，對仍在餘波中嗡鳴的「神性介面」低語道。「開玩笑的…暫時而已。」
傍晚的斜陽穿過櫻花間隙，灑落在她懸浮的頭顱與靜默的神體上，構成一幅既奇異又神聖的畫卷。畫卷中的少女，眼裡早已洗淨昔日的恐懼與迷茫，轉而閃耀著一種了然於心的從容——那是在深諳規則之後，於狹縫中為自己經營出一方自在天地的，微妙而晶亮的光芒。
Years have passed since the utter collapse in that garbage-strewn back alley.
The Mikami family shrine is now thriving, its gates bustling with visitors. The once-declining family, through the achievements bought with the blood and tears of the "Shrine Maiden of Shin-ou," has not only reclaimed its glory but has also forged strong ties with political and business elites. This power is enough to manipulate police and prosecutorial investigations and media narratives from behind the scenes, skillfully transforming the disturbances caused by demons and battles into "gas explosions" or "special forces drills," or simply covering them with more conspicuous events.
As for the few eyewitness accounts and photos of the purification process that have leaked out, the Mikami family has a meticulous response mechanism. Through sophisticated manipulation of online public opinion, they can swiftly guide the mainstream perception towards "AI deepfake videos" or "maliciously edited photos." This is supplemented by mass post deletions and flooding forums with spam, ultimately "killing with silence" these "urban legends." In this way, Mikami Sakura's demon-slaying activities are shrouded by an invisible social safety net, quietly fading from public consciousness.
Furthermore, the power of Shin-ou is not limited to combat and exorcism. Visitors from the "outside world" often come with all sorts of prayers: some hope to dispel bad luck and curses, some pray for a sliver of precious fortune, some come to be healed by the pure spiritual light, and others… simply to behold the divine visage, to witness with their own eyes the divine body that quietly radiates a majestic aura in the shrine, to soothe their restless hearts or fill a void in their souls by immersing their eyes in its solemn, sacred beauty.
On such occasions, Mikami Sakura (her head) would always hide quietly in the shadows, observing. When she saw the incredibly pious and fervent gazes of the people, all focused on the divine body, a subtle, ineffable shyness and thrill would always stir in her heart. Although what they saw was the supreme Shin-ou, the body that was receiving such ardent faith had once been a part of her. Every earnest hope directed at Shin-ou was like a stone cast into the lake of her heart, creating ripples upon ripples. In a way she could never articulate, she secretly savored the warmth and satisfaction brought by this strange connection. Of course, if her internal activities became "overly sentimental" or "lacked solemnity," it could trigger a cold correction from the "heart" within her, based on Shin-ou's standpoint. Regardless, she had finally found a path to appreciate, and even draw a little secret comfort from, the fact that "her body had become a god's," a fact that had once only brought her existential doubt.
Sometimes, with Shin-ou's "tacit permission"—or more accurately, when her "heart" determined that it was in line with the need to "display divine majesty and consolidate faith"—she would reassemble her separated parts and appear before the faithful in the complete form of the "Shrine Maiden of Shin-ou," allowing them to look up to her elegant face and extraordinarily graceful figure.
Generally, even if the faithful knew that Shin-ou was attached to the shrine maiden, they could not fully grasp the mystery of their relationship. In their eyes, Mikami Sakura was the direct incarnation of the divine will; her every move was seen as a manifestation of that sacred will. They had no way of knowing that behind her perfect demeanor was a highly precise and suppressed internal calculation.
For Sakura, this was nothing short of a "forced" performance. She had to meticulously translate the solemn, inhuman divinity within her into her external conduct. Any inappropriate, stray thought in her mind—such as a worshipper's hairstyle being comical, or the dancing divine body having a rather nice sway—would immediately be met with an unforgiving correction from her "heart," like an invisible ruler striking her thoughts, forcing them back into a state of clarity and silence befitting a god.
Thus, while the crowd was mesmerized, moved to tears by her elegant, delicate finger movements and fluid dance steps, Sakura's inner self was often in a strange state of "disengagement." She would retract her own consciousness, becoming a conduit, perceiving the cold instructions from her "heart" about "how a god should act," and then translating them into concrete commands with perfect accuracy. She often joked afterward that she felt like the latest "smart robot," not only having to execute movements but also having her brain busy with real-time "compilation"—"translating" the abstract divine intent into code that the body could understand, so busy that her brain was on the verge of crashing.
Though it was a joke, the traditionalist clan members who served the shrine with their entire beings didn't understand outside words like "compile" or "crash." They would just look at each other, assuming their lady shrine maiden had uttered another profound and cryptic oracle.
———
Time was long, and most of it was spent in solitude—or more accurately, in the company of "self" and "god." There were no clansmen surrounding her, no worshippers looking up to her, and no need to force her body into a single form. Here, the deity was enthroned in its place, and Mikami Sakura was just Mikami Sakura.
In a quiet courtyard deep within the shrine, the cherry blossoms were in perpetual bloom. This was not a natural phenomenon, but an eternal spring under the blessing of "Shin-ou," which emanated a soft, divine light.
Mikami Sakura’s head hovered serenely before this sacred torso. She had long grown accustomed to the strange sensation of her body being in multiple places at once. A few silvery-white soul threads extended from below her neck: one end was connected to her two arms, which were suspended under the veranda, diligently practicing calligraphy; the other end was attached to her two legs, which stood beneath the most magnificent cherry tree. They were properly fitted with the pure white Purification Tabi "Hakujou" and the spiritually imbued Evil-Crushing Zori "Shinsei." In their complete, divine-artifact state, they bathed in the endless rain of falling petals, silent and solemn, as if ready to receive and execute a divine command at any moment.
Her gaze swept lightly over the ramrod-straight legs, which exuded a certain sternness, and a faint smile curved her lips. Her thoughts drifted back many years, to the right big toe that had been torn off by a demon's claw in the heat of battle—in her memory, it was still painted with a pretty cherry-pink nail polish, yet it had rolled pathetically on the ground, covered in filth and mud.
Now, that same toe, healed as if it had never been broken, stood valiantly within the "Hakujou." It was no longer that laughable, tragic fragment that sought prettiness only to meet a wretched fate, but a heroic soldier leading the other four toes into the front lines.
Quite gratifying, isn't it, "heart"?
"I'd like to try something new today, Lady Shin-ou." With a shift in thought, she whispered, speaking to the god in her mind. Her thoughts rushed forth, carrying a deliberate, probing intent. "Speaking of which, although this divine body was once a part of me, it later became more like a crystallization of the Mikami family's collective wishes. The elders used to be so reverent they wouldn't even dare to touch it. What would happen if I... lightly traced a finger along its collarbone?"
The moment the thought formed, an incredibly clear emotion arose from her "heart"—not anger, but rather a "disapproval" based on a judgment of specific rules, like an invisible prohibition marking the act as "disrespectful" and "not required by ritual."
Sakura received the "heart's" judgment of her thought, but her lips curved into a slight smile. She had expected as much.
"Just as I thought. But..." Her head floated closer to the divine body. She continued to construct her words in her mind, carefully wrapping them in a cloak of "reverence." "If the skin is covered in dust, it would affect the divine body's majesty, wouldn't it? Isn't the daily cleansing for the purpose of maintaining Your purity? Touching and sensing are also part of the inspection. This is not blasphemy, but… a deeper form of service."
She had repackaged "curiosity and probing" as "diligence and maintenance."
The "heart's" feedback was delayed for an imperceptible instant. The earlier feeling of "disapproval" gradually faded, replaced by a calm, tacit permission, even carrying a faint hint of "should be pleased"—not that Shin-ou felt pleasure, but that the mechanism of the "heart" had determined the shrine maiden's current motive was in line with the logic of "serving the god," and thus provided positive emotional feedback.
"Success," Sakura thought to herself. Her unoccupied left hand flew over and touched the collarbone, feeling the stimulation on the skin, and also the joy provided by the "heart." Her continuous probing had not been in vain; she was getting better and better at communicating with this "divine interface." She understood that the "anger" or "joy" that seemed to originate from Shin-ou was actually just "motivation fuel" that the precise mechanism of her "heart" would "allocate" to her based on her own words, actions, and thoughts. Shin-ou itself was a concept, a power, a mechanism—a pure "It," not an emotional "He."
Sometimes she went too far, proposing ideas that were too outrageous—such as using her soul threads to make the divine body do yoga, or putting stickers on it during cleansing. The "heart's" reaction would be extremely violent. Her mind would feel as if it were being roughly churned by an invisible hand, every "wrong" thought pulled out and slapped with a bright red label of "fallacy," "inappropriate," or "valueless." The mental flagellation was enough to give her a splitting headache.
But that was all.
The "heart" could forcibly twist her value judgments, but it couldn't erase her memories. She had been afraid of this before, but the retained memories could still be triggered when the opportunity arose. She had figured it out: "I can't 'own' my self, but at least I can 'use' it, in my own way."
The Head Elder had passed away last winter. With the old man who had completed the "Stone of the Divine Cherry Blossom," fused it into her, and single-handedly created and suppressed the "Shrine Maiden of Shin-ou" gone, there was no one left in the family who could look down on her with absolute authority. After all, who could understand Shin-ou better than the "Shrine Maiden of Shin-ou" herself?
When the news came, she was admiring the cherry blossoms in the courtyard. Upon hearing it, she felt neither joy nor sorrow, only silence. The expected sense of immense relief did not come immediately. Instead, there was a very complex emptiness and weightlessness, as if a string she had been pulling against for years had suddenly snapped, making the entire instrument's resonance feel unfamiliar. She had shed her heaviest shackles, but she had also lost a reference point that had defined her own existence.
However, this emptiness did not last long. Soon, it was filled with an unprecedented lightness and autonomy. She had won an unparalleled fissure of freedom from both her internal constraints and external pressures.
At this moment, a thought flowed through her.
Her left hand, connected by a soul thread, flew over gracefully and steadily picked up a small dish of extremely spicy rice crackers from the table—a "prohibited item" she had recently and secretly commissioned a trusted priestess to buy from the town below.
"Lady Shin-ou, you who perceive all worldly affairs must know the principle that human life requires a harmony of a hundred flavors. This spicy taste is also the fiery vitality of the myriad lives you protect," she reported piously in her mind, carefully wrapping every thought in a cloak of reverence. "By allowing your humble shrine maiden to taste it herself, perhaps she can more deeply comprehend the myriad states of the mortal world under your protection, and thus fulfill her duties with a more complete wisdom?"
The "heart" was silent for a moment. No wave of reprimand or negation came. It was tacit permission.
Her left hand elegantly brought a cracker to her lips. She took a small bite. An explosive spiciness detonated in her mouth, bringing the stimulation and pleasure she had longed for. But that wasn't all—as she chewed and swallowed, the food passed down her throat and was "transported" through the invisible link into the divine body. Soon, a distinct, burning writhing came from the stomach. A sly, triumphant smile crept onto Sakura's lips.
It seemed that Lady Shin-ou had indeed "received" this fiery offering.
Next is the small intestine, then the large intestine, then the rectum, and then...
The shrine maiden of the god enthusiastically "tracked" the journey of this heat through the divine body. She ate the entire plate of crackers and even began to look forward to the fiery ritual that would arrive the next morning. "Since a god now possesses a human body, isn't it only natural to experience all the mysteries of that body?" she thought, full of self-righteousness. She immediately felt a warning wave from her "heart." "Oh dear, my apologies. I'll be sure to improve next time," she recited obediently, though her tone held little remorse.
Just as Sakura was immersed in this harmless prank on her god, a familiar spatial distortion and a faint miasma came from the edge of the barrier. A demon was approaching, a low-level one, like a pawn that had wandered in, drawn by something.
At almost the same time, her "heart" had already driven her mind to complete a tactical analysis and sent a series of temperatureless instructions—rather than letting it linger and scout, it was better to lure the enemy in and exorcise it in one fell swoop.
Sakura sighed softly. Even after all this time, she still couldn't get used to this strange experience: it was like being a detached observer, watching her own "cognitive module"—a term she had learned from the outside world to jokingly refer to her mind—being forcibly commandeered and operated by another entity, even if it was the "heart" that had once been her own.
With a hint of annoyance at having her leisure time interrupted, she quickly operated the "control panel" of the divine body according to the instructions: she set the distribution of her divine power release, adjusted the barrier's parameters to create a transient gap, and simultaneously lowered the energy field level of the divine body's signature radiation, laying an invisible trap. This was the shrine maiden's preferred sci-fi-flavored self-narration. The little demon, as expected, followed the calculated trajectory and unwittingly stepped into this sacred domain it had no right to enter.
Her head remained leisurely hovering in place, unhurriedly biting into the last cracker offered by her left hand, chewing and savoring it as if the distant commotion had nothing to do with her. Her right arm, though (clad in its "Chinrei" sleeve), had already detached from the Zen-like state of calligraphy practice, tracing an exorcism seal in the air, ready and waiting just in case, like a reliable reserve force.
Her two legs, long prepared, surged with spiritual power, coalescing into their evil-crushing armaments. The right knee bent sharply, the calf muscles tensed, and the big toe that had once been severed and restored took the lead, pushing off the ground—the sole of the Evil-Crushing Zori erupted with a dazzling spiritual light. The entire leg, tightly wrapped in the Purification Tabi, transformed into a bolt of pure white lightning. The bone-spur whip tore through the air, heading straight for the source of the miasma.
Meanwhile, the left leg, which had maintained its formal stance, merely let a cold glint flow over the edge of its spiritual tachi, emitting a low hum as a silent warning and show of force.
Years of training and countless battles had long since turned all of this into instinct. The entire process was as smooth as flowing water; her head didn't even turn to look. Her senses, shared through the soul threads, gave her state awareness, and the battle was left to the separated parts to execute autonomously—efficiently, precisely, and without mercy. To her, it was just another insignificant "cleanup" in her daily routine.
A moment later, the victorious right leg returned. The last wisp of miasma clinging to the tip of the bone whip was instantly consumed by a purifying blue flame ignited at the fingertips of her right hand, dissolving into a puff of smoke. The courtyard returned to tranquility, with only the silent fall of cherry blossoms.
Sakura swallowed the last bite of her cracker with satisfaction. Her mouth was a little numb from the spice, and her thoughtful left hand had already offered her a cup of warm, soothing tea.
She gazed at the divine body before her. Even though its stomach was as intolerant of spice as a mortal's, it still radiated an inhuman solemnity and a brilliant, divine light. At the same time, she carefully sensed her four limbs, now returned to their places.
Her legs stood as firm as pines. The right leg, the vanguard, was like a composed martial artist, immersed in its own training, showing no sign of having just been through battle. The left leg, which had stood guard, exuded the calm of a steadfast rock, its spiritual blade's edge hidden but ready to strike. The right arm had returned to the veranda, the spiritual flame on its fingertips extinguished, and had once again picked up its brush, its delicate hand continuing to write on the unfinished calligraphy scroll, its strokes steady as if it had never left. And the left hand remained by her side, and when she needed it, it would bring the teacup to her lips at just the right moment, its light and attentive posture like that of a devoted fledgling.
An ineffable, wondrous feeling blossomed in her heart—these limbs and this divine body were no longer just parts that she commanded or that commanded her, but partners who could rely on each other, even like a family sharing an invisible bond. She still couldn't speak to them in a human way, nor could she feel any direct emotional feedback, but they existed so vividly, as if they each had their own distinct temperament, yet worked together seamlessly.
Sakura turned her head, quietly gazing at the colorful shower of falling cherry blossoms. She saw a few soft petals land on the smooth, severed surfaces of her legs… on the "communication interfaces" that connected them to her. They sent a tiny, yet inexplicably joyful, spiritual disturbance, like a gentle greeting.
Ah, how wonderful. Just being quietly here with "herself" like this, she no longer felt lonely.
———
The road beneath her feet was indeed widening. Although the divinity within her remained as cold as a precise machine, she had learned how to communicate with it, even to subtly guide it. And in the external world of her family and the vast secular society, she had, through her power and wisdom, won a voice and a space to move.
She was still the "Shrine Maiden of Shin-ou," belonging to the god from soul to shell.
But she had also carved out a narrow yet solid fissure, one in which her own consciousness could meander forward, allowing her to use herself for her own sake.
"Hmm… next time, after cleansing the divine body, I'll try to convince the 'heart' to let me put it in a bikini, to better 'display the divine body's natural, pure beauty and celebrate the joy of its living lines.' How about that?" The bold, "immoral" thought, wrapped in ornate language, flashed through her mind. She even mischievously sketched out the wildly incongruous image in her head: the sacred divine body wearing a bright, gaudy bikini, appearing in a solemn, serious ritual. What a shockingly comical sight that would be.
Almost simultaneously, a powerful, preventative warning wave came from her "heart." A violent flood of negation, based on a judgment of "absolute logical fallacy," inundated her consciousness, as if her entire cognitive system were being forcibly rebooted. It brought a moment of intense dizziness and a cognitive blank, as if the wiring in her brain had been unplugged and plugged back in.
"Whoa!" The surge in her mind was so intense that Sakura's eyes flew open and her jaw dropped, though it wasn't the first time she'd experienced it. After taking a moment to catch her breath, she let out a soft laugh and whispered to the still-buzzing "divine interface," "Just kidding… for now."
The evening sun slanted through the gaps in the cherry blossoms, falling on her floating head and the silent divine body, creating a picture that was both strange and sacred. In this picture, the girl's eyes had long since been washed clean of their former fear and confusion, and now shone with a knowing composure—the subtle, brilliant light of one who, after mastering the rules, has carved out a small world of freedom for herself in the cracks.
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