He knew the way to her house. The back alleys with stray cats and quiet streets. Streetlamps guiding his path through the night.

He knew how to climb up to her window without making a sound. How a single jump would have him at her windowsill, the balls of his feet balancing on the edge.

He knew how to gently pry it open. Careful to not make a ruckus lest he wake her or her family. It could be tricky on cold nights and he took his time, in no particular rush.

He knew what floorboards would give his presence away. In fact, he waited for a moment, closing the window behind him and resting in a crouch on the floor. Then, he took a step, suddenly more focused on his surroundings than the boards beneath his feet. He moved instinctively.

He knew that the room would be clean and everything in order, no worries about tripping over things in the dark. She always cleaned up her room when he came to visit, even if there was nothing to really tidy up. It came as no surprise to him that her room would like it always did. Pristine.

He knew she'd be curled up on her bed, one hand tucked beneath her pillow and another resting on her collarbone. Her comforter would be pulled up to her shoulder and he couldn't stop himself from tucking it underneath her chin. A cold wind could have easily swept into her room when he entered.

He knew she'd still have it. Restored to its former glory and sitting on her desk. He was glad she had taken care of it, not that she wouldn't have, but to see it sitting there made him dimple. His first shrine from his first follower.

He didn't know that she had left a stack of coins right by it. Neatly placed and out of the way, it was a sore thumb. He picked one up, tossing it in his hand as he inspected the familiar engravings. Five yen. A stack of five yen.

A stack of wishes. Ones he hadn't heard in his time away. One for each day she had been unable to reach him, to see him.

He picked up her journal, fully knowing she'd hate to have him look through it again, but he knew she would have written it down somewhere. Each and every wish.

He only found one, however. One wish with a promise to place said wish and a coin by the shrine each and every day until his return because she believed he could still hear her. That he'd still be around to grant her wishes.

She was wrong. And he smiled at that thought.

He placed the coins back in her purse and kept only one before flipping it in the air and pocketing it. Then, he kissed her cheek and smiled once more as she stirred only slightly before returning to her restful slumber.

He only ever needed a single coin for a single wish.