Kamisato Ayato watched Yae Miko speak with that calm, fox-like confidence that
could charm a hurricane into stillness. Her lies came so smoothly they sounded like tradition; her truths were wrapped so playfully they tasted like sweets. He felt no ripple in his heart—only admiration. As expected of the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, he thought. The plan was unfolding exactly as she had predicted, with such precision that he and his sister only needed to appear at the right moments and let Miko conduct the rest.
Beside him, Kamisato Ayaka fought to keep her composure. Her cheeks had colored a soft cherry-petal pink. To her, this felt like a tale leaping out of the light novels she hid under silk cushions—divinities walking through a torii of lightning, mortals trembling, and she herself standing as a "divine envoy." In Inazuma, she was the dignified eldest daughter of the Kamisato estate, the White Heron Princess of the city, polity and poise woven into every breath. Duties pressed gently but constantly upon her. In public, there was no room for whimsy. Yet here, under a sky that knew nothing of Teyvat, she tasted a secret thrill: she was part of a miracle.
Her daydream broke with a cry from the Kamisato Great Priest—a man with age-creased hands and eyes bright with faith rediscovered.
"Ah—so that's it!" he exclaimed, pounding a fist lightly to his breast. "Our ancestors remembered the divine names wrongly. For a thousand years the Kamisato family sent offerings to the heavens and heard nothing back—because we called to the wrong name. Of course… of course!"
A laugh caught in his throat, then a sob. Joy and shame braided together as he looked up to Yae Miko. "Then the true name of the Thunder God we sought… the one beyond our broken memories…"
"The one you meant," Miko purred, "is Yujian Myojin. And yes—Narukami is a goddess, not a god."
The Great Priest slapped his own forehead gently. "A goddess! All so clear now. We were careless across too many generations."
His voice softened, humble. "Lord Fox Immortal, may we know your true name—and the titles of the two who stand with you?"
Miko's eyes gleamed. "I am Yae Miko, Guuji and a descendant of the Goddess Narukami. These two are not dependents of the Archon. They are envoys who bear the Eye of God."
She tilted her chin toward the siblings.
Ayato stepped forward with the warmth of a hearth in winter. "Kamisato Ayato, at your service."
Ayaka bowed, voice soft but steady. "Kamisato Ayaka."
"Lord Kamisato Envoys!" The Great Priest bowed again, dropping to his knees; attendants echoed him like wheat bending in a gust.
From the Demon Slayer ranks behind Kagaya Ubuyashiki, a whisper slipped out—light as a moth's wing. "Eye of God…?" It came from Shinobu Kocho, though she hadn't meant to speak. The moment the words escaped, she froze, eyes wide. Oh no. She had not intended to interrupt a goddess.
Miko's fox ears twitched, the bell in her hand chiming with an amused jingle. She turned, smiling like a secret. "Oh? This little one seems very interested in the Eye of God."
Color drained from Shinobu's face. Kanae Kocho, ever the gentle shield, tugged her sister down with her. "Forgive us, Lord Fox Immortal," Kanae pleaded. "My sister can be impulsive. We meant no offense."
"I—I'm sorry," Shinobu whispered, bowing until her forehead brushed the boards.
Miko flicked her wrist dismissively, kind as a cat that has already decided not to pounce. "No need for panic. I am no evil spirit. In the Age of Gods, children like her were often favored—granted the Eye of God and turned into names that legends remember."
A ripple of surprise passed through the Hashira. Some stiff shoulders loosened. The Demon Slayers had steeled themselves for judgment; instead they found… possibility.
Miko let her gaze wander across them all—the calm gravity of Giyu Tomioka, the quiet power of Gyomei Himejima, the ember-bright presence of Kyojuro Rengoku, barely fourteen and already a spark in the wind. "Not only this girl," Miko continued, "but many among your Demon Slayer Corps bear hearts that could invite heaven's gaze. When a mortal's desire is strong enough—and pure enough—the Eye of God answers."
Kyojuro, unable to contain his curiosity, blurted, "Then… what is the Eye of God?" His voice rang clear, as if declaring an oath.
"Mind your tongue," hissed Shinjuro Rengoku, rapping his son's head with a knuckle.
"Ow!" Kyojuro winced, then grinned despite the sting. Even now, flames danced in his eyes.
Miko laughed, delighted. "It is fine. Questions are the doors to knowledge." She tipped her chin to Ayato. He unhooked the white, thread-woven Eye of God from his sash and presented it with both hands.
"Behold. In the Age of Gods, when a person's desire rose like a beacon—clear as lightning, unyielding as stone—the gods cast down their sight. The chosen received an Eye of God."
She lifted the Vision so all could see. Its surface glowed like moonlight soaked into silk.
"With it, mortals wield powers that echo the divine: onmyoji that shakes the earth, sword-force that splits rivers, the elements themselves—flame, frost, verdure—bending to purpose."
Murmurs surged through the gathered crowd. Even the stoic Hashira leaned almost imperceptibly forward. Eyes widened. Breaths held. The idea of a human becoming more sent shivers through spines honed by a thousand battles.
"Those who bear the Eye of God are called 'original gods'—for they hold the right to ascend."
"Become… a god?" The words burst from more than one throat at once, breathless, disbelieving. In stories, mortals climbed to the heavens. But stories had never stood in front of them with a white jewel in hand.
The square fell so quiet the wind sounded like thunder. Hearts thumped out a hush-drum rhythm.
Miko smiled and, with a graceful flourish, returned the Eye to Ayato. "A right is not a promise," she said. "It is a road. Not all desires call to heaven—greed, vanity, the hunger for endless life—these will never draw a god's gaze."
Kyojuro's brow furrowed, and he spoke carefully this time. "Then… the wish must be something good? Something for others?"
"Clever boy," Miko said, pleased. "Yes. The gods are moved by good wishes for the world. A doctor who vows to spend a lifetime saving lives; a scholar who seeks knowledge to lift others from darkness; a guardian who dedicates every breath to defending the weak; a judge who wields the law to protect the helpless. You must carry this vow across your entire life, and only then does heaven truly see you."
She let the Kagura bell sing a silver note. "Should such a vow be fulfilled—if the doctor helps end a plague through a life of labor—then that mortal is qualified to ascend. The Eye of God is given to help fulfill the vow, not to replace it."
A stunned silence. Then a dawning kind of reverence—different from fear, gentler than awe. This was a path they could walk.
Kyojuro drew in a sharp breath. "No wonder the blessed of old were heroes. That's only right."
Shinjuro's hand came down again, more gently this time. "Not so loud. Respect," he muttered, but even he couldn't smother the small, reluctant pride tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Miko giggled, a bright fountain of sound. Then her expression returned to businesslike grace. "Back to the matter at hand."
She turned so that both the Kamisato and Ubuyashiki families, the Hashira, and the priests could see her clearly. "From this day, the Goddess Narukami's gaze will rest upon this land. When your children fight the evil that devours mankind—when they truly fight for all that is good—heaven may cast its sight. And then… the Eye of God may descend."
A tremor went through the crowd like a bowstring loosed. This was not merely hope; it was invitation.
Ayato stepped forward smoothly, voice as calm as a lake at daybreak. "To guide what is to come, we will teach you how to discern wishes that call heaven, and how to keep your hearts unswayed. We will also pass down techniques mortals can use—disciplines born in distant lands—arts that do not consume your life force and carry no curse."
Ayaka added, gentler still, "You will not stand alone." She glanced at Shinobu and Kanae with sisterly warmth. "Some of you already carry such vows in your hearts."
Kagaya Ubuyashiki lowered himself until his forehead touched the earth. "Then we, the Ubuyashiki and our Demon Slayer Corps, will devote ourselves wholeheartedly. If our long struggle can be turned into a bridge to the divine—if our children may gain strength to end this curse—then our family's sin may at last find its end."
The Hashira bowed as one. Respect. Faith. Resolve. Even those least prone to visible emotion—Giyu with his river-still face, Gyomei with his quiet tears—let something sacred move across their features.
Miko's smile thinned to a blade of purpose. "There is one more thing." She lifted the white Eye of God once more, letting its pale glow wash over the assembly. "When a Vision appears, do not guard it like treasure in a vault. Find the one whose vow summons it. It belongs to the heart that called it down."
The Great Priest pressed a hand to his chest. "We will remember."
Miko inclined her head, then turned her gaze to Shinobu Kocho. "Child," she said, voice like a lantern in snowfall, "your curiosity is not a sin. Keep it. But marry it to compassion. One day, your question may become a vow that saves lives."
Shinobu's lips parted, eyes shining. She bowed deeply. "I will remember, my lady."
Miko let her attention shift to Kyojuro. "And you," she teased lightly, "burn so brightly I can see it from the other side of the gate. Let that flame be for others, and it will never go out."
Kyojuro straightened, fists to his sides. "Yes!" he barked, then flushed at his own volume. "Ahem—yes," he repeated, softer.
Laughter stirred, easing the tension further. Even Shinjuro's shoulders loosened.
Ayaka, moved by impulse, stepped beside Miko. Her voice was small but clear. "If any of you feel lost—if you doubt whether your wish is selfish or pure—come to us. We will help you shape it. The Eye of God does not demand perfection; it demands devotion."
A hush fell again—this time warm, like a quilt laid over tired bodies.
Miko raised her bell high; the chime rippled like water over stone. "Then let it be known. The heavens have opened their ears. Fight for all the good in the world. When you do, the world will answer."
Lightning flickered faintly across the torii's veil, as if in assent.
Kagaya breathed out a tremor-laced sigh. The Demon Slayers straightened. The priests wiped their eyes. Somewhere in the crowd, a child whispered, "I want to be kind enough for the gods to hear me."
Miko's fox tail (unseen, but felt) might as well have swished with pleasure. She had given them a dream that was not a lie—a path grounded in vow and deed. And when dreams align with truth, mortals do the rest.
Ayato secured the Eye at his sash again. "We will begin instruction at the shrine," he announced. "Foundations first—breath, focus, discipline, and simple arts any mortal can learn. We will not sully your lives with curses or shorten your days with foolish sacrifices."
Ayaka nodded. "And we will help rebuild the Raijin Shrine into a house fit for this new covenant. Your prayers will bear the right names."
The Great Priest bowed so low it seemed he might never rise. "We, the Kamisato priests, and we, the people of this land, give thanks."
Miko's eyes half-lidded in contentment. She turned, bells chiming, and glanced toward the faintly shimmering gate where Mathew—silent arbiter, law of heaven—watched from beyond. He had granted her a script; she had turned it into worship.
And the people? They would turn worship into action. That was how worlds changed.
"Children of this land," Yae Miko said, one last time, voice ringing like a bright, soft bell, "hold fast to vows that bless others. In doing so, you invite heaven's gaze—and perhaps, one day, an Eye of God will answer."
Thus was the promise planted: a seed of divinity in mortal soil, waiting for vows to bloom.
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