The shrine rests near the village’s heart, just beyond the central square, tucked between a stand of gnarled pines and the steady murmur of the river. Its architecture is modest yet dignified: weathered wooden beams darkened by age, a gently sloping roof of layered cedar shingles, and painted eaves carved with stylized cranes and lotus blossoms. Faded paper lanterns hang from the beams, their once-bright reds and whites dulled by years of sun and rain, though each bears the same character in bold brush strokes - "守" (protection).
A short stone stair rises to the entrance, flanked by two guardian dog statues whose faces have been worn smooth by time, their features more suggestion than detail. A faint smell of cedar incense clings to the air, mixed with the salt tang of rice straw mats drying nearby.
Inside, the air is cool and hushed. The floorboards creak softly underfoot, polished by generations of barefoot villagers coming to leave offerings. Wooden plaques bearing the names of ancestors line the walls, each one meticulously brushed with ink, some centuries old. The central alcove is simple but reverent: a raised platform where offerings of rice, sake, and folded paper charms are carefully arranged, watched over by a single bronze gong that glimmers in the dim light.
At the far end, the Elder pauses, his face heavy with memory. With a careful hand, he pulls aside a screen and reveals a rolled length of fabric stored within. Unfurling it across the low table before the party, he speaks softly, his voice tinged with sorrow.
"This tapestry is our record. Eighty years ago the Oni came, and our people were nearly lost. The story is woven here, so that we may never forget… and never mistake their return."[ +- ] Tapestry
please excuse the AI art