The stone steps to Narukami Grand Shrine were carpeted with fallen sakura, every petal catching the wind like a quiet promise. From this high path, the islands of Inazuma spread out in layered blues and soft purples, the sea glittering as if the sky had broken and scattered stars upon the water.
"This view is perfect," Mathew said, hands tucked behind his back as he walked. "From up here, you can see all of Narukami Island."
"As long as it pleases you, Lord Mathew," Yae Miko replied, her tone smooth, her eyes watchful. "Though I am curious—what exactly at Narukami Grand Shrine has caught your divine attention?"
"What am I here to do?" Mathew's mouth curved. "Something that will shake all of Teyvat. If you want to know, I'll tell you—for a price. One ear." He flashed a playful look at the fox priestess, savoring her reaction.
Miko's two pink-tipped fox ears tilted, then huddled closer to her temples. "One ear? You want to cut it off?"
"I'm not a monster," he said lightly. "A priestess without ears would be a tragedy. I only want the right to touch one ear—just once. For that tiny price, I'll reveal a secret big enough to make the mountains bow."
Miko squinted at him. "Just touching an ear… in Shadowed Mountain… something directly tied to Inazuma? You do enjoy teasing me."
"Of course it's about Inazuma." Mathew shrugged, feigning boredom as they climbed. "I only offer this once. It's time-limited. I'll count down. If you don't accept before I hit zero, the offer is gone."
He raised a hand. "Ten… nine…"
Yae Miko's expression didn't change, but inside, thoughts tumbled like dice in a cup. If what he hinted at truly concerned Inazuma—and the shrine—then even the Raiden Shogun might not know all of it yet. And the cost he asked was ridiculous, almost childish. Just one ear? Silly… and yet, it was Mathew. A god from Celestia.
"Two… one—"
"Fine," Miko blurted, heat touching her cheeks. "I'll trade."
Mathew smiled as if he'd known her decision all along. "A contract is formed. Whoever breaks it shall be punished by eating rocks."
"Let's not bring Morax into this," Miko muttered, ears twitching despite herself.
"Go on then," she whispered, head tilting forward. "Touch."
Her ear trembled beneath his fingers like a small animal bracing for rain. Mathew's touch was careful at first, then firmer, and Miko bit back a breath as a strange, electric softness ran through her. Heat bloomed along the edge of her ear and rushed to her face; she clapped a hand over her mouth to stop the sound that almost escaped.
Mathew withdrew before mischief turned into cruelty. "Soft. Different from ordinary foxes," he said, amused. "A unique charm."
"You are a terrible god," Miko managed, trying to smooth her expression back into poise. "Now—give the secret. Don't tell me you tricked the little fox."
"I did not." Mathew reached out and tapped her brow with a single finger.
In an instant, visions unfurled in Miko's mind like banners in gale wind: a plan to swallow worlds, the detail and shape of the Demon Slayer realm, the construction of a World Gate at Narukami Grand Shrine, notes on how to move and act while wearing divinity in mortal stories, and a catalog of the island mythologies of Takamagahara. The information flooded her—too much, too fast—yet crisp and undeniable.
Her eyes widened. Shock melted into awe; awe sharpened into dread. "Annex a world? You plan to—no, you already have the means to—"
"Open a door," Mathew said, untroubled. "Walk through. Replace their thunder god. Claim authority. Return with what Celestia desires."
Miko stared at him, then exhaled slowly. "You are impossible. And you bullied a little priestess to learn this."
"You accepted a fair price," he said. "Besides, it's not a secret you'll never hear. The Shogun would have told you soon. But it's more fun my way."
She clicked her tongue. The worst part was that he wasn't wrong. Still, the intimacy of the "price" left her unsettled, cheeks warm, mind racing. A World Gate at the sacred heart of Narukami… such a thing would change Inazuma forever.
They reached the final steps. Before them rose the ancient sacred sakura, its roots drinking deep from the pulse of the land, its blossoms sheltering shrine and city alike. Without that tree, Inazuma's ley lines would have ruptured long ago; only a cruel nail of the heavens could have nailed the broken veins into place.
Mathew stopped at the edge of the shrine courtyard and swept his gaze over the torii, the braided shimenawa ropes, the clattering prayer plaques. The sacred sakura's petals fell like gentle rain.
"All right, let's build the door."
His eyes unfocused slightly as he spoke into the silent thread that only he could hear. "Set location: Narukami Grand Shrine, before the sacred sakura. Open the World Gate."
The reply wasn't sound so much as certainty:
—Location acknowledged: Inazuma, Narukami Grand Shrine.
—Begin creating World Gate.
—Lock to dimensional coordinates: Demon Slayer world.
The air answered with light. A golden pillar erupted from the heart of the shrine and speared the sky. It widened with a deep, bell-like hum, and Shadowed Mountain bathed in radiance as if a sun had been planted into the earth.
Pilgrims and shrine maidens fell to their knees. The city below paused, then roared with questions as the beam painted rooftops in dawn-bright gold. Thunderheads broke apart above Inazuma, and the sea flashed from slate to silver.
"A miracle at Narukami!" someone cried from the lower steps. "A gate from the heavens!"
Yae Miko shaded her eyes, her calm cracking into wonder despite everything she knew. "It's beautiful," she breathed. "Terrifying, but beautiful."
Mathew nodded. "It is both." His gaze sharpened. "And it is only the beginning."
The golden column braided itself, its center darkening from gleam to a clear, glassy void. Petals spiraled into it and vanished without a sound. The torii gates around the courtyard shuddered as if bowing; the shimenawa ropes creaked, then settled.
Miko felt it, an ache behind her eyes: the world recognizing another and making space. She placed a palm on the sacred sakura's bark. The tree thrummed with power but did not resist. "It accepts the strain," she murmured. "Thank the gods."
"Thank me," Mathew said dryly. "I set the load across a thousand threads."
"You always make it hard to be grateful."
"I consider it a service."
They watched in silence as the pillar tightened to a graceful arch of light—a door you could step through. Even from a few paces away, Yae Miko felt air from the other side: colder, a little thinner, tasting faintly of steel and old smoke. A world with different prayers, different demons, different rules.
"Tell me honestly," Miko said. "When the Shogun steps through to replace their thunder god, will Inazuma be safe while she is away?"
"I did not design this to leave your nation exposed," Mathew replied. "She will move as a reflection—present there in power, present here in rule. Two hearts, one blade."
Miko folded her arms. "You always answer just enough to unsettle, never enough to satisfy."
"You prefer being unsettled," Mathew said. "It keeps your mind sharp."
She rolled her eyes but smiled anyway. The gate pulsed again, a heartbeat spanning two realities. Somewhere deep in the shrine, bells began to ring of their own accord.
Below, the city's cries turned to cheers, then prayers. Word raced down the mountain: the Grand Shrine had opened a door to a new world. Fishermen on distant piers paused with nets in hand, staring toward the mountain light. Children chased golden dust along alleyways. Old women pressed palms together and thanked the Electro Archon for a sign of favor.
Miko's gaze drifted to the horizon. "When she returns," she said softly, "people will ask what we gained. How will I answer?"
"Tell them the truth: Inazuma learned to move again."
The words hung between them. Eternity that flows, not eternity that freezes—Ei's sister's dream, rediscovered in a harsher age.
Miko shook her head, amused despite herself. "You can be poetic when it suits you."
"I prefer efficient."
"Efficient would have been: 'We stole a mantle from another world.'"
"That, too."
The World Gate stabilized with a last, resonant chime. Runes of light traced themselves along the arch, then sank out of sight as if tattooed into air. A thin film shimmered across the opening, reflecting sky and sakura, sea and shrine. Miko could feel names on the far side, prickling her skin: slayers who trained with breath like sword forms, demons that wore grief like armor, a thunder deity fading like a last storm.
She exhaled. "You said the Shogun will act as envoy and replacement. What of the others who must go? You told me earlier—holders of Visions will be needed."
"They will," Mathew said. "Desire that can change a world is the only coin the door accepts freely."
"So our allogenes will walk that night road, too."
"Some will," he agreed. "Not all. Visions mark those with wishes strong enough to move mountains, but the path is still a choice."
Miko considered that. Visions were promises, not shackles. She had seen too many burden themselves under their own lights.
The arch thrummed again. A silhouette flickered at the lip of the gate—a mirage of a woman with a blade of living lightning, hair drifting as if the sea had risen to clasp her shoulders. For a heartbeat, Ei stood in both worlds at once. The courtyard hushed without knowing why.
Then the image fainted like foam on the tide.
"First her eye," Mathew said, "then her hand, then her will. She will cross gently and take the name without breaking the host world. That matters."
"Because Celestia dislikes mess?" Miko asked, arching a brow.
"Because Inazuma would pay for a mess. You know she won't allow that."
Miko's expression softened. She did know. For all the Shogun's unbending edge, the blade pointed outward now, not inward. The purges were done. The rebuilding had begun. And this—the gate—was both danger and salvation, a bridge rather than a wall.
"Very well," Miko said at last. She clapped her hands; shrine maidens flitted from the colonnade like petals in a sudden breeze. "Prepare the grounds. No one crosses without my leave or the Shogun's command. Set wards. Bring offerings. We are hosts to a passage of gods."
A chorus of "Yes, Lady Guuji!" rang out. Ropes were checked, wards renewed, talismans refreshed. The shrine became a living circle of protection, soft chant weaving with the steady pulse of the gate.
Mathew watched the quiet industry and tilted his head. "You do like order."
"I like survival." She glanced at him. "And I have chosen this survival for Inazuma. I trust the Shogun. And, gods help me, I'm choosing to trust you—for now."
"That is wise," Mathew said. "I am very trustworthy when it suits me."
"You're incorrigible."
"True."
They stood before the door a while longer. The golden arch shed a gentle light now, no longer a spear but a lantern. Even the falling petals seemed to slow when they drifted through that glow, each one spinning like a tiny prayer wheel.
"Will you go first?" Miko asked.
Mathew shook his head. "Not today. Today belongs to Inazuma. The Shogun will take the first step when her reflection and her realm are perfectly balanced."
Miko nodded. She had no doubt that when the moment came, the blade of Inazuma would pass through like lightning, and somewhere in another sky, a thunder god would make room.
A breeze stirred, carrying incense and sea salt. Distantly, bells from village shrines answered Narukami's call, a network of faith ringing in sympathetic harmony. The world felt larger, and yet closer.
Miko let herself smile, small and real. "Welcome to Narukami's new threshold," she said to the gate, to Mathew, to the future. "May we be worthy of where it leads."
And the gate, as if it could hear, answered with a single, steady pulse of light.
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