Dawn had yet to break when Ji Bai followed Thoma along the winding path toward Mt. Narukami. The mountain was wrapped in mist, the damp leaves glistening in silence. No birds sang. No insects stirred. The entire forest held its breath.
He carried his scrolls on his back, his old brush in hand. But his heart was heavier than either.
"You feel it too, don't you?" Thoma finally asked, his voice hushed.
"The mountain is breathing," Ji Bai replied quietly. "But it's not peaceful."
It wasn't his first time climbing the sacred mountain, but this time everything felt… different. The earth beneath his feet trembled faintly, and the air hummed with a subtle static—a divine pressure neither hostile nor welcoming, simply watching.
When they arrived at the shrine gates, Lady Yae stood waiting. Draped in ceremonial robes, she did not smile with her usual slyness. Her gaze was sharp, unreadable.
"You've come, little artist," she said, her voice soft but clear. "We've no time to waste."
Ji Bai bowed deeply. "Lady Yae. What's happened?"
She gestured toward the inner shrine, where faint pulses of violet light shimmered between the trees. "The flow of divine energy has shifted. Since your audience with the Shogun, the inner sanctum has trembled three times. Lightning arcs through the sacred mirrors. Even the fox relics have begun to crack."
Ji Bai's expression darkened. "Why?"
Yae Miko fixed him with a penetrating look. "Because you've drawn the gods' attention. And now, something ancient is answering."
"A response?"
She nodded slowly. "You channeled divine resonance through your painting. You may not understand it yet, but the gods do. The Shogun has not named you… but the mountain already has."
As if summoned, a sudden breeze swept through the shrine. The sacred sakura trembled. One lone petal drifted from the highest branch, spinning in the air—until it landed gently in Ji Bai's palm.
He stared at it as it began to sink into his skin, vanishing without a trace.
His breath caught.
"You're not just an artist anymore," Yae said, her voice quieter now. "That power—what the ancients called 'tongshen'—is waking in you."
Ji Bai was silent for a long moment, eyes on his hand.
"Then… what do I do now?"
Yae Miko gave a rare, serious smile. "You keep painting. Until even the gods can no longer look away."
Above them, thunder cracked once over Mt. Narukami.
Not as a threat.
But as an answer.