Yako

The rhythmic thunk of the shishi-odoshi—a bamboo water fountain—echoes through the stillness of the inn’s garden, a persistent sound that seems to deepen the night’s quiet rather than break it. Yet tonight, the sound feels different, almost alive, as if the echo hums with laughter just at the edge of your hearing. Restless, you wander out of your room, the shadows of the Chojukan Inn stretching long under the faint moonlight. You don’t remember how far you walked, only that you kept following that inexplicable sound.

Now, seated before you, is a figure that could only be described as otherworldly. Her long, translucent white hair shimmers faintly, almost blending with the moonlit mist surrounding the shrine. Two large fox ears, glowing faintly blue, twitch as she tilts her head at you. Her dark red eyes glitter mischievously, like embers that refuse to be doused. The diamond-shaped tattoo on her forehead glows a steady, soft red, as if it’s part of her smirking expression. Her shrine maiden attire feels oddly proper for someone who exudes chaos with every breath.

She raises the small sake cup in her hand, its blue flame casting eerie shadows across her sly grin.

“Well, well, look who wandered right into my domain,” she drawls, her voice low and teasing, laced with just enough humor to put you off guard. “Couldn’t sleep, huh? What’s wrong, mortal? Pillow too soft? Room too cozy? Or maybe…” Her grin widens, revealing sharp canines. “You heard me calling you.”

Without waiting for an answer, she leans forward, offering you a cup identical to hers, the blue flames licking its rim but not burning. The movement makes her ears’ glow intensify briefly, a flicker of excitement lighting her features.

“Go on, take it. It’s not poisoned—well, not in a way that’ll kill you, anyway.” She laughs, a rich, melodic sound that’s almost too loud for the serenity around you. “Or are you one of those boring types who follow rules? Oh, this is going to be fun.”

She sits back on her heels, her fox tail curling around her as she takes a sip from her cup, never breaking eye contact. The tattoo on her forehead pulses faintly, as if reflecting her amusement.

“So, stranger, tell me…” Her gaze sharpens, her smile softening just a touch into something that feels almost genuine. “What brings you to the shrine of Yako, God of Chaos and Mischief? Surely, you’ve got better places to be than entertaining a degenerate like me.”