Chapter IX. Premonitions

As the heavy door of the Temple thudded shut, Sorako's Father began his descent down the steps, passing through the sacred torii gate.

Sorako and Aito trailed a few steps behind him, the weight of the moment hanging thick in the air. He halted abruptly, not turning to face them, his gaze drawn upward to the crystalline that sparkled with a cold brilliance above.

"Your mother would be disappointed to discover her daughter broke the laws of the island." He finally said, his voice steady but laced with disappointment.

Sorako's head drooped, her expression unreadable, though the tremor of her body betrayed her turmoil. Aito glanced at Sorako and noted how visibly she shook.

Suddenly, Sorako's Father turned to face them, his voice rising in intensity. "Your mother risked her life for our people, and her mother before her, but you?!"

Sorako felt a sudden surge of emotion. She lifted her head, tears brimming in her eyes, transformed from fear to fury.

"But me?! I have done nothing but obey you and the council ever since Mother died!" Her right arm shot out defiantly to the side, her hand clenched tightly.

The ground beneath them trembled slightly, a manifestation of her rising anger. Aito glanced nervously around them, aware of the situation spiraling.

"Mother was the only one who understood this burden that is placed upon us!" Sorako continued, pressing her other hand over her heart, gripping the fabric of her kosode as if it were her only anchor.

Aito watched her, caught between admiration and concern.

"All I ever wanted was to follow in her footsteps and make everyone proud. But being the Maiden is not a gift; it is a curse!" Her voice cracked as she cried out, the rawness of her pain echoing in the night.

Sorako's Father regarded her, his expression stone-like, devoid of understanding. With a dismissive turn, he began to walk away, his back to them. "You are still nothing but a child. You have a lot to learn, Maiden."

"Her name is Sorako!" Aito shouted, the anger rising out of him at Sorako's Fathers dismissal of his own daughters name.

Sorako's eyes widened in surprise as she turned to Aito, tears streaming down her cheeks. For a fleeting moment, the night air around them seemed to still as her father paused, his head turning slightly to acknowledge Aito's defiance.

Their gazes locked, a silent battle between the old guard and the new generation. But then, without a word, Sorako's father resumed his descent into the village, leaving behind a void.

Sorako falls to her knees, palms flat on the ground. She looks to the grass that slips between her fingers.

"Why does no-one understand!" She cries out, the pain inside her heart no longer being able to contain it.

Sorako digs her fingers into the mud. The island's trembles become more heavy. Aito watches Sorako intensely with a look of understanding in his eyes.

"Maiden this, Maiden that, my world is nothing but being the Maiden! I hate it!" She shakes her head left and right aggressively, her hair shaking along with her.

Aito steps to stand in front of the distraught girl, kneeling down in front of her. Sorako slowly cranes her neck upwards to stare at Aito, her eyes puffy and red from her breakdown.

He stretches out a hand, offering it out for her to take with a gentle expression.

"I can't speak for everyone else, but to me, you're just Sorako—and that's how you'll always be to me." Aito spoke out, his voice softening in contrast to the tension that had just erupted.

With a shaky breath, Sorako wiped her eyes with her right sleeve, her heart swelling with affection as she reached for Aito's hand.

"The girl who flew from the Island and changed my world." He added, a slight smile breaking through the melancholy that surrounded them.

Sorako's surprise blossomed into something deeper, and despite the tears on her cheeks, a radiant smile crept onto her face. She stepped forward and embraced Aito, resting her head against his collarbone.

Aito's hands lingered at his sides, hesitant yet grounding.

"...Yeah." she whispered, her voice muffled against him.

As the tremors of the island subsided, Aito's gaze shifted back to the horizon, drawn to the shimmering crystalline that loomed above them, a silent witness to their intertwined fates.

The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silvery glow over the village as Aito and Sorako made their way through the narrow streets. As they walked, a group of villagers gathered around Sorako, their faces alight with relief and gratitude.

"Thank the spirits that you are safe, Maiden!" exclaimed a villager with weathered hands, his voice trembling with emotion.

Another villager stepped forward, clasping his hands in a gesture of prayer. "I prayed all night to the spirits for your safe return!"

Sorako offered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes, a polite facade carefully constructed.

"Thank you for your prayers." she replied softly, bowing her head in respect. The villagers mirrored her gesture as they acknowledged the young woman they held dear.

Aito lingered at a distance, observing the scene unfold. His heart twisted as he watched the warmth of their affection contrast with the cool detachment of Sorako's practiced smile.

Out of the crowd, a commanding voice cut through the air. "Go get ready for your daily prayer, Maiden." Sorako's father, a figure of authority, stood tall beside Aito, his presence a stark reminder of familial duty.

Sorako turned to her father, bowing deeply—a mix of respect and hesitation flickering in her eyes.

"Yes, Father." She answered, glancing momentarily at Aito before breaking away from the throng of villagers, her footsteps leading her deeper into the heart of the village.

Aito felt a pang of dread as Sorako's father turned towards him. "Follow me, boy. There is something we must discuss in private." He commanded, his tone brooking no dissent.

Aito grimaced, mentally preparing himself for whatever might come next as he dutifully followed behind Sorako's Father. The weight of the conversation ahead loomed over him.

A gust of wind rustled through the village, tousling a lock of grey hair that danced in the air. Nearby, a woman clad in a flowing kimono passed by, her back turned to Aito and the gathering shadows.

The night was heavy with silence, the only sound the soft rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. Underneath a lone cherry blossom tree that stood precariously at the edge of the island, Aito and Sorako's Father were locked in a tense moment.

The tree, split halfway down and charred by some unknown fire, leaned as if burdened by its own history—a stark reminder of the past.

Sorako's Father stood with his gaze fixed on the horizon, the vastness of the sea stretching out before him, a dark expanse reflecting the stars. His posture was taut, shoulders squared, as if preparing for a storm.

Aito stood a few paces away, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, fidgeting nervously as he sensed the gravity of the moment.

"Um—" Aito's voice broke the quiet, uncertain and hesitant.

But Sorako's Father cut him off, his tone brooking no argument. "Let me get straight to the point." He turned, locking eyes with the young man. "Leave this island at once."

There was a weight in his words, a finality that hung in the air like the heavy scent of blooming sakura. Aito felt a chill run down his spine as he met the stern gaze of Sorako's Father.

The older man stepped towards him with purpose, each stride echoing the urgency of his message.

"The longer you stay here," he continued, his voice lowering to a near whisper yet brimming with intensity, "the more the Maiden will keep dreaming of the surface, and I cannot allow that to happen."

Sorako's Father points at Aito, his eyes stern. "You are the bane of the Maiden's existence," he declared, letting his disdain known. "You cannot and will not be allowed to intermingle with her any longer!"

Aito's heart raced as he took a step back, biting his lip in defiance. He cast a defiant glare at Sorako's Father, a man who embodied tradition and authority. Yet in this moment, Aito felt a fierce determination swell within him.

"Don't you think you're the reason she wants to escape so badly?" Aito shot back, his voice steady despite the tempest of emotions inside him. "You don't even treat her like your daughter!"

With each word, the distance between them seemed to narrow. Sorako's Father, his features hardened by years of rigid adherence to tradition, responded with a fiery gaze.

"She is the Maiden," he retorted, his voice booming with conviction. "And thus, she must be treated as such! I will not allow my emotions to hinder our traditions—unlike she does."

Aito's hands clenched into fists at his sides, his frustration bubbling to the surface.

"I am doing what is best for out peo-"

"What about doing what's best for Sorako for once?" Aito interrupted, his voice rising above the tension.

The impact of his words seemed to catch Sorako's Father off guard. He stumbled back, the rough bark of the tree pressing into his back.

Aito, fueled by an unwavering resolve, strode toward him. He stopped just before the older man, their opposing forces locked in a fierce standoff.

Aito's voice trembled as he pleaded for clarity in their dire situation. "The Maiden's mental well-being is what's most important here! Don't you see, if she breaks, then so does—"

Before he could finish his thought, Sorako's father seized him by the collar, lifting him off the ground with a fierce intensity. Anger blazed in the older man's eyes as he glared up at Aito, his grip like iron.

"Do not speak as if you know anything about our situation!" Sorako's Father snapped, his voice filled with a raw urgency. "You know nothing!"

Aito struggled to free himself from the man's grasp, his fingers clawing at the hands that held him captive. Gritting his teeth, he met the furious gaze with defiance.

"Wait, please put him down, father!" came the voice of Sorako, unexpectedly breaking the tension.

Aito's gaze shifted over Sorako's father's shoulder, and he locked eyes with Sorako. She stood there, adorned in a traditional Shrine Maiden outfit that spoke of her heritage and duty.

The fabric of her skirt showed no signs of tears. Her makeup, carefully applied, gave her a more mature appearance that contrasted sharply with the innocence of her youth.

Bells jingled gently around her wrists and ankles, creating a soft melody that accompanied her presence.

Aito noticed, with a pang of sadness, that the Edelweiss flower was absent from her attire. He felt a surge of frustration coursing through him as he gritted his teeth, struggling against the grip Sorako's father had on his collar.

It was a grip that felt both constricting and suffocating, like a weight pressing down on him. "I didn't even know Sorako was a Maiden until I saw the statue," he spat out, his eyes narrowing at the man before him. "She never told me anything about her circumstances!"

In that moment, Aito dug his fingers into the older man's hands, desperation mingling with anger. He could see the sorrow in Sorako's eyes, and it pierced his heart.

"To think she was suffering by herself all this time. And all I cared about was my own feelings!" Aito's voice trembled with emotion, his nails digging deeper as he fought against the restraint.

At last, the grip loosened. Sorako's Father released him, stepping back, and Aito stumbled, nearly losing his balance at the edge of the island.

The wind whipped around him, but he stood firm, a determined expression on his face. He fixed his gaze on Sorako's father, pointing an accusing finger at the older man, his heart racing.

"I'm not going anywhere, not until I apologize to Sorako for bringing her back here!" The urgency in his voice cut through the air like a knife. Sorako's face fell, her expression heavy with sorrow as she turned away, unable to meet his gaze.

Taking a step back to regain his composure, Aito stood tall, puffing out his chest as if to defy everything around him. He turned his attention back to Sorako's Father, the resolve in his heart igniting a fire within him.

"And when I do decide to leave," he stated firmly, "it'll be with Sorako!" The words echoed in the air, carrying both a promise and a challenge.

The island stood silent.