The Purification Ritual—a formal procedure for receiving and cleansing the women rescued from Shuten-dōji's captivity.
It was also part of Satsuki's plan—an opportunity to observe the condition of Shuten-dōji's feminized form, Suika Ibuki.
It had been nearly two weeks since Satsuki's battle on Mount Ōe and the subsequent transformation of Shuten-dōji. By now, if there were any abnormalities or changes, they would likely have become apparent.
"I understand, Miko Ayami. Please inform Lady Fubuki that I will head there shortly."
"Yes, my lady."
After responding, Miko Ayami did not immediately leave. She lingered at the doorway, as if hesitating about something.
Satsuki's room was separated only by a simple curtain, and from the shadow at the threshold, she could tell that Ayami was still there. Calmly, she asked, "Miko Ayami, is there something else?"
Ayami hesitated for a few seconds before speaking. "On my way here, I heard about what happened with you at Kyoto's gate."
"Oh?" Satsuki replied mildly. "And what of it?"
"I know both you and Lady Ruri possess extraordinary power. Even if that so-called 'Seven-Man Squad' seeks revenge, they are no match for either of you. However, if your position as a shrine maiden prevents you from acting freely, I would be honored to handle them on your behalf."
"I'm hardly the sort to be bound by formalities," Satsuki said with a faint laugh. "Besides, I've already killed one of them myself. But I appreciate the offer. I can deal with this matter personally. That said, while Yasaka Shrine enjoys great prestige now, your arrival in Kyoto ultimately means competing with the Onmyōji for influence. Every ounce of strength you have will be precious."
"We thought we would face much more resistance," Ayami admitted. "But two days ago, Lady Fubuki visited Lord Abe no Seimei, and to our surprise, he was extremely welcoming. He even hinted that he would petition the Emperor to establish Shinto as the state religion."
Shinto as the state religion?
Satsuki paused, momentarily surprised. Kyoto's situation was changing faster than expected—before Shuten-dōji had even taken action.
Abe no Seimei's conciliatory gesture was an unmistakable signal of cooperation.
This meant that even the Onmyōji now sensed an overwhelming threat and were seeking to unite every possible force to face it together.
And there were only two possible sources of such a threat:
The yōkai of Kyoto led by the reincarnated Hagorome Gitsune—or the Lunar Palace, which had stirred the world each time it acted.
Satsuki was inclined to believe the target was the latter. After all, this development was not unexpected—it was a result of her deliberate design.
She had openly revealed the Lunar Palace's true power to one of Kyoto's Onmyōji and had spoken plainly of her goal: "to remake the world."
Remake the world—in other words, overturn the existing order. Such words alone were enough to brand her as the enemy of all.
No sane organization would declare such an extreme ambition publicly.
But Satsuki had done so—and backed her claim with overwhelming power. Coupled with the Lunar Palace's recent actions across the war-torn lands of Japan, it was only natural that people now saw the Lunar Palace as a dangerous, extremist force.
Thus, its threat far surpassed even that of Kyoto's yōkai.
"To think that my plan to resurrect Kaguya would yield such an unexpected bonus…" Satsuki mused inwardly. "It seems my timetable is progressing far faster than anticipated."
Though inwardly pleased, her expression remained calm and composed.
"In any case," she said softly, "allow me to congratulate you. After so many years of persistence, your shrine's efforts are finally bearing fruit."
...
After exchanging a few more polite words, Miko Ayami bowed and departed.
It was understandable—Yasaka Shrine, the foremost among the Four Grand Shrines, had just achieved a monumental victory by eliminating the Great Demon King of Mount Ōe, a threat that had plagued Kyoto and the surrounding regions for centuries. They would undoubtedly be busy in the days to come.
Inside, Kaguya showed little interest in social affairs. Judging by her expression, she seemed far more intrigued by Ruri.
Thus, Satsuki went alone to the side hall of the Fushimi Inari Shrine.
By the time she arrived, her Tenseigan had already detected several powerful presences emanating from within.
When she slid open the door, her intuition was proven correct—the hall was filled with familiar faces.
Seated before her were several familiar figures.
There was Kagura Magenrou of the Katori Shrine, dressed in a twelve-layered kimono, wearing a celestial coronet, her long hair cascading down to her ankles.
Beside her stood En no Ozunu, the hermit sage, wearing a conical hat and holding a monk's staff, his blue-violet robes faintly glimmering under the light.
In addition to these two, the reincarnated yōkai Hagorome Gitsune was also present, elegantly clad in her black ceremonial attire.
However, among all those gathered, the one who immediately drew attention was a young man seated at the center—dressed in formal hunting robes, wearing a tall black cap, and carrying himself with refined politeness. The color and pattern of his garments marked him unmistakably as the current Head of the Onmyōryō, Kyoto's most renowned Great Onmyōji—Abe no Seimei.
Yet even he was not the one who most captured the room's attention.
That honor belonged to a shrine maiden whom Satsuki had never seen before.
Like most miko, she possessed long, flowing hair and a slender, graceful form. She wore the traditional white and crimson robes of a shrine maiden, and on her forehead gleamed a golden sigil shaped like the sun.
Her expression radiated an almost divine gentleness—soft, compassionate, and pure. Yet her smile carried neither flattery nor pretense; it bloomed naturally, like a flower opening to the morning light. Her deep, tranquil eyes exuded a serene calm, soothing the heart like a warm spring breeze. But beneath that comforting aura lingered a faint, inexplicable sense of distance, as though she existed half a step removed from the mortal world.
Those eyes—those unfathomable, ancient eyes—were not the eyes of an ordinary human. Their depth, stillness, and otherworldly glow evoked the presence of something beyond mortal comprehension. To be gazed upon by her was to feel, unmistakably, as if one were being watched by a god.
And through her Tenseigan, Satsuki confirmed that this was no illusion.
Divine favor flowed around this shrine maiden constantly—more abundant and concentrated than even the semi-divine priestesses of Yasaka Shrine, who were born as children of the gods. The blessing surrounding her was immense, on par with that of an actual deity.
Moreover, this divine favor did not come from a single god—or even a handful—but from countless divine entities. The spiritual threads intertwined and converged around her like a brilliant celestial tapestry, a living embodiment of the boundless heavens.
If the priestesses of Yasaka Shrine were children born of divine-human unions—half-divine and half-political instruments—then this shrine maiden was something entirely different.
She was a being loved and chosen by the gods themselves, the true daughter of heaven—a vessel bearing the will of a million deities.
In all of Shinto, there could be only one who possessed such overwhelming divine favor.
A shrine maiden of the Ise Grand Shrine.
However, as Satsuki's Tenseigan pierced through the divine concealment cloaking the miko, she discovered something that made her pause in quiet amusement.
—The so-called Priestess of Ise standing before her... was, in truth, a man.
Can a shrine maiden be male?
Technically speaking, there was never a strict prohibition against it—it was simply that over time, through habitual thinking and later formal regulations, the title of miko became reserved for young, gifted, and beautiful virgins.
Yet this Ise Priestess radiated such immense divine grace that it was clear the gods themselves were exceedingly pleased with their chosen vessel.
One could only conclude that the gods of this world truly had a unique sense of humor—or perhaps it was simply because the Sun Goddess, Amaterasu Ōmikami, was female by nature.
When Satsuki entered, Fubuki's eyes brightened immediately. She walked over and warmly took Satsuki's hand before introducing her to the gathered assembly.
"This is Priestess Satsuki, whom I mentioned earlier."
Most of those present were already acquaintances. The first to speak was Kagura Magenrou, the Saigū of the Katori Shrine. Her expression carried a hint of surprise as she carefully examined Satsuki from head to toe.
"When Princess Sakura spoke of a priestess named Satsuki, I thought it was merely someone sharing the same name. I didn't expect it to truly be the Priestess Satsuki herself."
After her initial surprise, a faint trace of regret crossed her face. "To think our next meeting would be under such circumstances."
"You've met before?" Fubuki asked curiously.
"More than once—we're quite familiar with each other," Kagura replied with a small smile.
Nearby stood the hermit sage En no Ozunu, though he did not appear in his true form or title. Still, the aura of spiritual power radiating from him, along with the divine energy emanating from the golden bracelet on his right wrist—imbued with the essence of a oni-god—made his identity unmistakable to Satsuki's eyes.
In the Shinto hierarchy, his seniority was that of a living fossil. It was said that the current mentor of Abe no Seimei, Kamo Tadayuki, was a descendant of En no Ozunu himself. If he had arrived under his true name, his mere presence would have caused a sensation across Kyoto.
Clearly, while the sage did not wish to publicly announce his arrival, he made little effort to conceal it either. The others present—save for Hagorome Gitsune—were all his juniors and thus tactfully ignored the pretense.
"Master Sage," Satsuki said with a faint, knowing smile, her words carrying their usual subtle sting. "What a surprise to meet you here. How are those two attendants of yours—Zenki and Goki—doing these days?"
The remark struck right where it hurt. The Katori Shrine had only recently been visited by the Wheel Yama King, leaving its retainers in disarray.
As expected, En no Ozunu's smile stiffened. "Ah... they're... doing well enough," he replied awkwardly.
At that moment, the so-called Priestess of Ise—the very same who radiated divine grace like sunlight—stepped forward.
With just a few measured steps, Satsuki could discern how different this shrine maiden was from those of Yasaka or Katori. Her posture was perfectly balanced—her head held high, her shoulders relaxed, her movements fluid yet controlled. Every step carried both grace and readiness, a sign of long, rigorous training. The sacred poise and sanctity of the miko tradition manifested in her every motion.
Even Satsuki had to quietly admit: aside from the issue of gender, this was perhaps the most archetypal shrine maiden she had ever seen.
"Lady Satsuki," the shrine maiden said softly. "Good day. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. I am the Priestess of Ise—you may call me Kyouhime."
The choice of word—hime—was telling.
In ancient Japan, hime was a title of noble distinction, reserved only for royalty or those whose status equaled that of a high priestess. Only princesses or those of divine rank could rightly use it.
Among the women Satsuki had met, the only one who openly called herself hime was Princess Inukimi.
Fubuki and Kagura Magenrou could have done the same, but neither of them truly embodied the traditional image of a shrine maiden—the former being more of a warrior, and the latter harboring a streak of rebellion.
Only Kyouhime—gentle, radiant, and surrounded by the blessings of a thousand gods—perfectly embodied the divine archetype.
Even if, in truth... he was male.
What a tragic irony.
Still, for Kyouhime to address her with such respect, calling her Lady Satsuki, was an unmistakable acknowledgment of her status.
The Priestess of Ise was unlike any shrine maiden cultivated by other shrines. In every generation, there existed only one individual qualified to bear that title.
She—or in this case, he—was trained and educated according to the most orthodox rituals and traditions of the miko lineage. Moreover, the Ise Grand Shrine enshrined none other than Amaterasu Ōmikami—the leader of the Amatsukami and the foremost among the Three Noble Children.
To the common people, Yasaka Shrine's influence and the contributions it made to humanity earned it the title of the foremost among the Four Grand Shrines.
But within the Shinto hierarchy itself, the position of the Priestess of Ise stood on an entirely different level—transcendent and unparalleled.
The Priestess of Ise was the only shrine maiden in existence who possessed the divine authority of investiture—the ability to formally confer divine rank or recognition upon others.
And with that single statement, Satsuki's standing shifted dramatically. Her outward identity was no longer that of a mere shrine maiden.
However, such distinctions held little meaning for Satsuki. Titles and honors did not interest her in the slightest.
Thus, even as those around her expressed faint surprise at the Priestess of Ise's gesture of acknowledgment, she remained calm and unbothered. Her expression betrayed neither joy nor humility as she simply returned the greeting.
"Good day. I look forward to working with you, Lady Kyouhime."
Her serene composure took many by surprise. After all, recognition from the Priestess of Ise was a divine honor that most shrine maidens could not hope to attain in their entire lives. Yet this young, unaffiliated priestess received it as if it were nothing at all.
After a brief exchange of courtesies, the gathering turned to the true purpose of their meeting. Abe no Seimei, standing at the center of the side hall, spoke in a slow, melodious tone, his words carrying the rhythm of a ritual chant.
"I believe everyone here understands the reason for this gathering in Kyoto."
At his side, Hagorome Gitsune added with her usual graceful composure, "Indeed, today's occasion coincides with the purification ritual for those poor girls who endured hellish torment under Shuten-dōji. But such a simple ceremony would not warrant the presence of such distinguished guests. I'm sure we all know the true purpose behind this meeting."
Her words were true—everyone present represented the highest echelons of the Shinto world. This was a gathering of power so great that, united, they could easily have crushed the Great Demon King of Mount Ōe themselves.
It was clear that their presence here was not for ceremony, but for strategy.
And the target of their attention was just as clear.
Aside from the Lunar Palace, there existed no other organization capable of posing such a grave threat to the entire Shinto order.