Sometimes Uraraka wasn't sure why she still continued to light the lamps. Each evening at sundown she battled with an old fiddly tin matchbox and lit them one by one so that the path to the shrine was lit up and welcoming to any visitors that may come to pray. Not that she ever got any visitors, she thought with a sting as the wind blew out yet another match before she could touch it to the oil-soaked wick inside the lamp. They were nearly as tall as her, made from old black painted iron, with a glass case on top. The glass opened on one side to reveal the wick and the pool of oil beneath it that she had to periodically replace. She'd heard that many shrines had upgraded from traditional style flame lit lamps and switched over to electronic - some of them were even on a timer so that a Miko wouldn't even need to turn them on. She sighed with a wistful longing as she pocketed the blackened match and drew out another, pushing her short hair out of her face as the wind continued to whip it around. Her Miko attire wasn't well suited to this kind of weather either, her long white kimono jacket sleeves were pushed up past her elbow, but they still flapped about in the gale, and her long baggy red hakama trousers caught the wind and made it difficult to stand in one place without it trying to tug her legs in a different direction.

Lighting the lamps wasn't ever too much of a problem, except on windy nights such as this, or when it rained, and she had to be grateful that there were only five of them on either side of the path leading to the shrine from a long set of old stone steps snaking up the hillside.

Being at the top of the hill was one of the reasons it got so windy, and Uraraka paused for a moment as she looked out over the small village she could see in the distance at the bottom of the valley. They were often sheltered from the elements by this very hill. She could see lights blinking into life one by one around the village, and she presumed everyone would be tucked up inside their homes now, maybe cooking food together, cosy and warm and safe with their families... She slapped her palm flat against her cheek, No no, this won't do! She thought fervently, tearing her gaze away from the soft glow below and determinedly gripping the tin matchbox. The remaining light of sunset was fading fast and she had a job to do.

She struck the match against its box with renewed energy.

"Come on," she hissed into the wind, "- ah!" The match was snatched out of her hand by a sudden gust. She tore after it automatically - it was one thing if the wind blew them out, but if she wasted perfectly good matches by her carelessness she would only have herself to blame when she inevitably had to buy a new batch on her barely-able-to-afford-to-eat budget. Uraraka trotted after it as fast as her sandals would allow and lunged down to the ground to slam her free hand onto the tiny piece of wood triumphantly. She'd got it! Only after she stood up, match proudly clutched in her fingers like she'd somehow bested the wind itself, did she consider the bright grass stains now streaked across the front of her pure white top. And that she still hadn't actually lit a single lamp yet.

Uraraka inhaled a long, deep breath, held it for five seconds and let it out slowly.

"Hey! Don't think I'm letting you off that - eas... ily..." She announced as she turned back to the path and let her words trail off and die at what she saw.

All of them were flickering brightly.

Each lamp had a small flame dancing in its case.

Oh.

Oh - !

Uraraka bowed repeatedly and shoved the match and box in a pocket so she could clap her hands together with great enthusiasm, exclaiming brightly into the wind, "Thank you! Thank you whoever you are, Spirit!"

She gained no reply for her thanks, and her father would have gasped in mock horror at the hastily yelled gratitude instead of the formal acknowledgement of her appreciation that she should have performed at the shrine itself. She smiled at the thought, hurrying inside out of the wind.

She was certain she could feel eyes on her back as she shuffled away, but saw nothing when she had one last look before sliding her front door closed with a firm clack.

The small house groaned with the force of the gales outside, but it was a sound she had grown very accustomed to and she barely even noticed the way the front door and wooden window guards rattled in their frames. Uraraka remembered fixing the large wooden panels to protect the fragile glass in the windows together with her parents whenever fierce winds were forecasted. They would turn long, noisy nights like this into a game, sitting together by lamplight; her father telling her stories of spirits and demons and gods while her mother made them hot tea. Uraraka slipped off her sandals and pulled the match she had saved out from her pocket and smiled at it sadly. They would have lit the lamps together too; her father cupping her hands as she lit each match, so the tiny flames wouldn't get blown out, and all of them laughing as her mother's robes flapped about in the wind. Uraraka knew she should be grateful for the twenty happy, peaceful years she had with her loving parents, but the two years she'd had without them still hurt so much.

Uraraka glanced over at the photo of her parents, placed proudly on display on a shelf in the living room, next to a clay ornament of a fox and a dish full of daisies, her mother's favourite flower. They were smiling and holding hands in the picture, in front of a shiny new sign that read 'Uravity-Inari Shrine'. There had always been a small shrine on this hill, but her parents bought the land before she was born with the intention of making it larger and providing a true place of worship for the Spirit, Inari. Uraraka knew that they had done all the work themselves and even built this house for them to live in so that they could oversee the maintenance of the land properly. Though the shrine remained fairly small they restored it into something beautiful. Her mother would hand out Omikuji fortunes from the Shamusho shrine office nearby and her father performed various rituals and administrative duties to keep it all running. Uraraka had entered into this world as soon as she was old enough to understand and had been helping them as a Miko for many years, happy to help and join them in their calling. But then...

She shook her head of her melancholy thoughts and shuffled into her bedroom, flicking on the lights as she entered. At least the lights inside the house were electric, she thought gratefully, glad of the large generator her father had installed one winter, but there was still no heating system, so the house could get drafty and cold. She pulled her kimono jacket over her head, too lazy to undo it, and held it up to inspect the stains. A clear smear of green ran down the front. It would definitely need washing tomorrow. She grimaced at the thought as she folded it up neatly and placed it to one side, hanging up her hakama trousers for the next day.

Once she'd had a bath and put on a baggy top and shorts Uraraka made herself some rice for supper and knelt down on a cushion to eat it at the table.

"Thank you for this..." She started, letting the rest of the sentence hang in the silence, broken only by the sound of the fierce wind outside. She swallowed thickly and tried again in a stronger voice, "Thank you for this meal!"

It wasn't really much of a meal though, and her chopsticks soon made light work of it. A source of great entertainment for her, being without a television or radio, was imagining what kind of food she would buy if she was rich; what kinds of meals she would cook and flavours she would eat. But even her imagination was frugal, and she often ended up thinking of the simple kinds of dishes her mother used to cook. She smiled a little as she washed her dish in the sink. Before her parents'... accident the shrine had been quite popular with the villagers and visiting tourists, giving them a steady income - never making them 'rich' - but they had had enough money to live by comfortably. Uraraka dried her hands and rubbed them over her face, her expression hardening into something full of determination and fire as she pulled her hands away and gripped them into fists by her side.

"I'll work harder," she promised to the empty room, "I'll work harder than ever and get visitors back here. Everyone is going to know Uravity-Inari Shrine! We'll be on the tourist maps and in guidebooks and they'll all pay their respects to Inari and the Spirits." Uraraka nodded her head enthusiastically at her own words.

But that made her remember the lamps from earlier... She wanted other people to pay their respects at the shrine, and she hadn't even done it herself. Uraraka frowned at her own feeling of guilt then quickly opened the kitchen cupboards for something else to cook.

The gale was still raging outside so she flung open the front door quickly, her breath snatched away in the windstorm, and slammed it shut firmly behind her, careful to keep a firm hold on the bundle she cradled in her arms. Her sandals were not the best footwear for moving quickly, but she managed to make it across the grass to the path leading to the shrine and clacked her way down it as the wind whipped her hair painfully into her face. She let out a relieved breath when she was sheltered from the wind inside the Haiden, the building for worship, as even though the building was mostly open to the elements, inside it felt calmer and the wind didn't whistle through it. She wondered if it was because of the Spirits.

Uraraka opened her bundle carefully, revealing a simple dish of fried tofu, and placed it gently on a small table in front of the shrine's altar. The smell of the incense she'd been burning in there earlier still clung to the air. With well-practiced grace she reached over and pulled a rope cord, ringing a bell above the altar, bowed twice, clapped twice and prayed. (She imagined her offering would be much better received if she was still wearing her Miko clothes, but her hoodie and shorts would have to do.)

She spoke aloud, softly, knowing it wasn't general practice to say a prayer out loud, but she'd already had a strange night so what was one more oddity to add to the list, "Thank you for earlier. That wasn't the first time you've lit those lamps for me, so thank you for continuing to help me, even though I haven't brought any visitors to your shrine," she added sheepishly. "My parents were always so good at all this, and I've not been doing a good job at all. I've always relied on so many people to help me, even spirits like you are good enough to support me." She sighed. "I'm sorry everyone thinks the hill is cursed. I still think I can prove them wrong though, if I just get one visitor, I can show them that this shrine isn't cursed at all! I just need one person to believe me!"

Uraraka was quiet for a moment, then she hastily wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Did you know some animals actually die of loneliness?" She said with a forced smile, hating the way her voice wobbled. "Anyway," she shook her head again, "I will just try and work even harder! Help keep me strong. Thank you."

With one more bow Uraraka turned around and left the small building, stopping suddenly as the overwhelming feeling she was being watched washed over her again. Was that a flash of animal eyes in the distance? She shuddered, squinting and blinking away her previous tears, but she couldn't see anything, so she just dashed back to her house through the driving wind once more.

Work began again with the dawn light. The wind had faded into a gentle autumn breeze sometime in the night, so the window guards could be safely taken down (they were heavier than they looked, so she huffed out a breath of relief when she had successfully heaved them all back into storage) and she had a path to sweep of all the leaf and tree debris that had been deposited on it. As she moved down the path with her broom Uraraka blew out the lamps, and soon it was looking neat, tidy and leaf-free again. She put her hands on her hips for a moment, satisfied with her work so far when the sun hadn't even fully risen yet, and looked out over the village below her; the sun was glinting off their windows and she could see chimney smoke rising from some of the houses. A crisp, cool and clear kind of autumn morning. She wiped the sweat from her forehead, enjoying the feeling of being cold to the touch but warmed up inside through hard work.

She would wash the stained kimono top from last night and then she'd have breakfast, she decided, putting away the broom. Luckily, she'd had plenty of spares to choose from this morning, as her drawers were mostly filled with clothing relating to shrine business. Uraraka stretched her arms above her head with a wince and a yawn as she entered her bedroom, ready to get this over with - she hated washing - and picked up the top. It unfolded as she lifted it and that made her pause. She tilted her head in confusion and flipped it around in her hands, holding it at arm's length to fully inspect it.

No stain.

But...

She brought her nose closer to the material. It smelled of something a bit like smoke - like it had been near a fire... And were those... animal hairs? Her eyes widened as she looked closely. It was difficult to tell, since they were also white, but she was sure that was fur - ?

Uraraka made a startled squeak at a sudden crash coming from outside, muffled slightly through the walls of her house, and hastily re-folded her top, scrambled to her feet and practically ran out of her room. A visitor? A visitor?

She nearly fell out of her door in her rush and had to quickly smooth down her long sleeves and hair before bowing slightly.

"Welcome to Uravity-Inari Shrine." She said with a buzz of excitement behind her words.

But when she straightened up there was no visitor. There was, however, a red fox frozen in mid-step on the path in front of her - with a mouth full of fried tofu. Uraraka's own mouth hung open slightly with words that she couldn't quite form, and she looked over to the Haiden building where her dish now lay in pieces on the floor. The fox still hadn't moved when her gaze returned to it, but its red eyes (should foxes have red eyes?) narrowed in an almost human-like manner as if to challenge her to say something. Then she blinked, and its eyes returned to the shade of yellow she would expect from a fox.

Finally she moved forwards, waving her hands in a shooing motion, and found her words, "Th-Thief! Hey, that doesn't belong to you! That's my offering for the Spirits!"

"No shit." The fox replied, around its mouthful of fried tofu. Uraraka blinked again. "What do you think I am?"