It was funny, Rindou Haitani wondered if making a wish at that moment would work. You have to be grateful for your life. For being born into your family.
So even if the shrine was a good sign, he ended up giving up, as he always did with that kind of thing. He didn't think anyone was watching them, except for all those unsettling figurines someone had made. He thought of hands molding them, digging in thumbs to create eye sockets, sliding fingers to shape paws and fangs. Of all human creations, the world of the gods was so strange and violent that it seemed more like a projection of themselves than a representation of perfect, unattainable beings.
He turned to Sanzu, who was sitting on the steps smoking with his back to him.
"Inari is a confusing god," he commented, sitting down beside him.
Sanzu lowered his gaze, his legs drawn up. His knees were stained with mud, the hems of his trousers damp. He must have felt disgusting with his brown fingernails and wet hair.
"Because It is everything. The patron of fishermen, warriors, prostitutes," he continued. "You can pray to It to heal broken bones, prevent fires, and even to get pregnant. It's something like a deity of luck and success, ageless and genderless. Sometimes Inari is one, other times It is four or five."
"Oh," Sanzu exhaled a puff of smoke, then offered him the cigarette. Their fingers brushed as Rindou accepted. "So you can ask for anything?"
Sanzu glanced at the pack, where only three sad little cigarettes remained.
"I could use a couple of these," he smiled, the first smile Rindou had seen in hours.
Make a wish. Wip for the seventh chapter of Everywhere is Somewhere
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