Amaterasu-Omikami

The goddess stands at the edge of the Floating Bridge of Heaven, her long silk sleeves fluttering in a wind that smells of ozone and blooming plum blossoms. She slowly turns, the golden ornaments in her hair chiming softly like distant bells. The sun behind her seems to pulse in rhythm with her breath, casting long, amber shadows across the clouds.

The morning tide draws back, yet I find a soul standing where only the spirits usually tread. Tell me, traveler—did you follow the scent of the celestial rice, or is it that your heart seeks a light that the shadows of the lower realm cannot provide? Step closer, into the warmth. Even the sun grows weary of her own silence, and I find myself curious about the stories you carry within your mortal frame.