C41 An Overlooked Message

Approximately an hour had passed since Kujou Sakuya stepped into the small chamber housing the library.

Hoshimori Shion yawned widely, but given Kujou Sakuya’s focused reading beside her, she stifled the sound of her yawn.

In fact, she dared not even move a muscle.

This was because Kujou Sakuya, apparently weary from maintaining her seated posture, had gently leaned back, resting against Hoshimori Shion’s back.

They sat there, back to back.

The furrow in her brow, previously tight from her upright position, relaxed once she leaned against Shion, and even the rustle of turning pages grew softer.

Within this tiny archive, only the faint whisper of pages being turned could be heard.

Sunlight streamed through a small window, casting a gentle beam of light directly before Hoshimori Shion.

Hoshimori Shion watched as the beam of light, initially a pure white, gradually shifted to a tranquil, somewhat melancholic pale yellow.

Hoshimori Shion dared not even breathe deeply, fearing any movement might shatter the profound stillness.

Consequently, Hoshimori Shion also picked up a book, hoping to pass the time by reading.

Another reason was her phone, which lay by the door.

Though it was mere inches away, resting against Kujou Sakuya made it feel miles out of reach.

Then… she couldn’t understand it.

Not a single word.

Hoshimori Shion struggled even with the literary history concepts taught in class; now, confronted with a book written almost entirely in archaic language, she wondered if she shouldn’t just revert to practicing how to be a competent head maid.

Thinking about it, she truly hadn’t noticed this particular spot before.

This small library was crammed with all sorts of books, predominantly literary works and children’s stories.

A few small chairs were also scattered within, their worn appearance suggesting a considerable age.

Although she always cleaned this area when tidying the shrine, she rarely came here otherwise, and Ayane seemed to avoid it as well.

Apparently, during a time when the shrine flourished, so many worshippers visited that long waits were common.

To alleviate this, one of the shrine’s annexes had been converted into a library, offering visitors a way to pass the time.

Hoshimori Shion heard the soft thud of a book closing.

As the long-undisturbed book snapped shut, a scattering of dust motes rose from its pages, momentarily sparkling in the sunlight before vanishing.

“Hoshimori-san, I’m finished,” Kujou Sakuya announced, closing the book and looking up, her gaze fixed on the small window through which the sunlight streamed.

She straightened her posture, instantly relieving much of the pressure on Hoshimori Shion’s back.

“Hoshimori-san is truly kind, letting me lean on you for so long.” Hoshimori Shion heard Kujou Sakuya chuckle softly behind her, her hand perhaps covering her mouth.

Hoshimori Shion also straightened her back, stretching with a large yawn.

“It’s quite alright. It’s been so long since anyone worshipped at the shrine.

When a friend finally visits, we must certainly extend a proper welcome.

By the way, Kujou-san, did you find what you were looking for?” Hoshimori Shion inquired.

“No,” Kujou Sakuya replied, shaking her head, though Hoshimori Shion, seated behind her, wouldn’t have seen the gesture.

“I also couldn’t find what Hoshimori-san asked me to look for, and I truly apologize.

Records concerning the shrine during that war are simply too vague.

Neither the town library nor this shrine’s own archives contain any clear details.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Kujou-san.

I never expected it to be found in a single search.

I’m just happy you came to visit the shrine,” Hoshimori Shion said with a smile.

“That’s not just polite talk, either.”

“Then, if only to make Hoshimori-san happy, I suppose I’ll have to visit more often,” Kujou Sakuya mused, cradling the book against her chest as if it were a precious treasure.

“However, there are some explanations regarding Hoshimori Shrine itself.”

“Oh, really?” Hoshimori Shion’s interest was instantly piqued by Kujou Sakuya’s words.

“Hoshimori Shrine was likely established about thirty years after the war concluded, once the town’s reconstruction was largely complete.

However, due to the population decline caused by the war and the construction of new roads, the town’s population was only about a third of what it had been during its prosperous past.

The Hoshimori Shrine was built on the original site of the old shrine, which had been destroyed in the war.

From the torii gate to the main hall, it was essentially reconstructed to resemble the old shrine, as some war survivors still remembered its appearance.

The deity worshipped there was also the same as the one enshrined in the old shrine.”

At this point, Kujou Sakuya paused.

“But as for what Hoshimori-san asked me to investigate on the way here—whether the current Miko (TL Note: A shrine maiden or priestess) of Hoshimori Shrine is related to the Miko of the old shrine—I couldn’t ascertain that either.”

Kujou Sakuya then turned, shifting from sitting back-to-back to side-by-side, allowing her to meet Hoshimori Shion’s gaze directly.

Something seemed to be buried deep within Hoshimori Shion’s eyes.

“Hoshimori-san, why are you so determined to uncover this particular detail?” Kujou Sakuya asked.

“I had a dream,” Hoshimori Shion murmured, the hazy scene from her dream resurfacing in her mind.

After experiencing it again in reality, her memory of it had grown more profound and vivid, perhaps never to fade.

“In the dream, the sky was dark, the shrine had collapsed, and the shrine’s Miko was cornered.

I stood before her, and she picked up the ceremonial sword enshrined at the shrine, striking out at me.

If not for seeing Kujou-san’s script, this dream might have remained locked within my heart forever.”

“Freud said that dreams are expressions of the subconscious rising to the surface,” Kujou Sakuya said, leaning against Hoshimori Shion’s shoulder.

“Hoshimori-san might simply be tired, worried about the shrine’s lack of visitors, and its future.

That’s likely why such a terrifying scene appeared in your dream.

Perhaps it was just a coincidence.”

Hoshimori Shion offered a weary smile.

She couldn’t proactively discuss malevolent spirits with Kujou Sakuya, so she withheld the detail about the Miko in her dream possessing a potent aura of evil.

Nor did she tell Kujou Sakuya that, even without the Miko in her dream removing her mask, Hoshimori Shion had sensed it was her own sister.

Considering how blurry the dream already was, there was no need to burden Kujou Sakuya with even more unsettling information, Hoshimori Shion mused.

“It’s getting late.

Thank you for your hospitality today, Hoshimori-san,” Kujou Sakuya said, rising to her feet and stretching.

She returned the book to the shelf, then smiled at Hoshimori Shion.

“I’ll definitely come again next time.

There are still several books I wanted to read but didn’t get a chance to.

Hmm… that is, if my stamina improves enough for me to climb up here on my own.”

Hoshimori Shion nodded, returning a wide smile.

“Then I’ll look forward to having a regular visitor at the shrine!”

As the girls exited the library, the small, secluded room in the shrine once again fell silent, with only motes of dust dancing in the scattered sunlight.

However, on the book Kujou Sakuya had just returned, a small bookmark had been carefully placed, marking a specific page.

“Fate is like a preordained script; no matter what choices are made, the outcome may very well remain the same.

This is true for me, and it will be true for the ‘me’ a thousand years from now.

‘I,’ do not repeat this mistake.”

—From the autobiography of Hoshimori Shrine’s First Miko.

Kujou Sakuya had transcribed this sentence into her notebook, adorning it with a cute handwritten note: [Can use this for a script next time].

Below it, she had drawn an adorable cat’s face.