Sitting on the veranda, bathed in sunlight where the breeze came to rest, Lua watched the Great Maiden’s quiet tea ceremony. A considerable time had passed since she returned to the Shrine, yet the Great Maiden’s daily routine remained devout and peaceful. The afternoon tea hour, in particular, was Lua’s favorite moment. The meticulous purity in her every gesture simply had a way of calming the hearts of all who observed.
Suddenly, Lua noticed something peculiar. The Great Maiden always used an old porcelain teapot with a subtle sheen for her tea. However, she didn’t steep the tea leaves and water directly in it. Instead, the Great Maiden brought over another, much rougher-textured black earthenware pot that sat beside it. From this earthenware pot, she first poured clear tea water into the porcelain one. A gentle steam rose as the liquid shimmered within. Only then did she pour the tea from the porcelain pot into her own teacup.
It was strange. Why use two teapots? She could have poured directly into the cup or steeped the tea in the porcelain pot itself. It was as if she intentionally added an extra step. Unable to contain her curiosity, Lua cautiously spoke.
“Great Maiden, that teapot… is there anything special about it?”
Lua’s gaze fell upon the old porcelain teapot. The Great Maiden paused, her hand still holding the pot, and turned to look at Lua. Her smile was as gentle as ever, but for a moment, a flicker of ancient, profound sorrow passed through it.
“Indeed, Lua.”
The Great Maiden’s voice was calm, but it held a deeper resonance than usual.
“This teapot holds a very old story. But it is a story as difficult to hear as it is to tell. Are you certain you wish to know it?”
Lua hesitated. The weight in the Great Maiden’s expression was unnerving. But Lua knew that when the Great Maiden spoke of ‘difficult stories,’ they were often truths that a maiden, a protector of the world’s balance, had to know—truths that perhaps touched upon the very reason for their existence. Taking a breath, Lua nodded.
“Yes, I am certain, Great Maiden.”
The Great Maiden smiled gently again. She picked up an extra teacup that sat before her and offered it to Lua.
“Then, let us talk as we drink tea together.”
The warm teacup rested in Lua’s hands. Inside, the pale brown tea shimmered quietly.[B:1]
The Great Maiden’s gaze was fixed on a distant place. Her eyes looked back seven hundred years, to a time when layers of history had settled like dust. “In those days, Lua,” the Great Maiden’s voice was low, as if tracing old memories, yet it carried an inexpressible weight.
“There were far more maidens than there are now. Far, far more than you can imagine.”
Lua’s eyes widened. She thought the number of maidens was considerable even now, but the Great Maiden’s words implied that a countless host had existed in that distant past. The Great Maiden calmly continued.
“Easily hundreds. They were scattered across the world, upholding the will of the Divine, and each maintained a small balance in her own corner of the world.”
She shook her head.
“It wasn’t a closed system like now, where one is only drawn to the Shrine after hearing the Divine’s voice. Back then, children with spiritual insight were far more common. Those who could hear the heavens’ call and feel the earth’s whispers abounded. If one had the gift and met the basic conditions, there was no reason to refuse her if she wished to become a maiden. The Shrine itself required a vast complex of buildings to house so many maidens.”
Lua glanced around. The current Shrine consisted mostly of vast, empty spaces, apart from the main hall and a few auxiliary buildings. Lush forests and well-tended gardens stretched endlessly. As the Great Maiden said, these entire grounds were but a vestige of the maidens’ former prosperity. The Great Maiden’s gaze seemed to paint the shadows of past buildings and countless maidens into the empty air, lost in distant remembrance.[B:2]
The Great Maiden’s quiet voice drifted across the veranda. “But peace cannot last forever. After a long era of tranquility, the period of great turmoil came to this land.”
The tea in her cup rippled gently. Her gaze was distant, as if staring at a far-off horizon. “The energies of heaven and earth twisted, and darkness deepened in people’s hearts. Endless war, plague, and famine swept the land. The people groaned in agony, and in the end, the land was torn in two, birthing an age of profound conflict.”
The moment Lua heard those words, she instinctively understood. The ‘period of great turmoil’ was none other than the Nanboku-chō period—the Age of the Northern and Southern Courts. It was an era of utter chaos, when the nation was split by warring emperors and suffering was a part of daily life. Lua’s heart beat low in her chest. To think the maidens had stood in the midst of such a time.
“Those who came to the Shrine of their own will, Lua, served the Divine faithfully in times of peace. But in an age of turmoil, their hearts wavered, and they found it difficult to resist the temptation to misuse their powerful abilities.”
Lua was puzzled. She had learned that a maiden’s transformation ability required a detailed comprehension of the target. A clumsy transformation would be easily exposed. How could it be ‘misused’? Lua asked cautiously.
“But… doesn’t a maiden’s transformation require a deep comprehension of the object? If they transformed without that understanding, wouldn’t they be easily discovered?”
The Great Maiden nodded. “To blend into the world unnoticed, one must indeed have perfect fidelity, as you are learning. But… if the goal is not to blend in but simply to create chaos, the story changes entirely.”
She continued slowly, her words deliberate and clear. “To take the crude shape of a giant beast to shatter a castle’s walls, to take a human form but move like the wind to commit banditry, to become a great boulder and block a vital road… wielding violent power without comprehension was not difficult. The world was in chaos, and people grew numb to such calamities. When the power meant to understand and preserve balance is used merely as a tool for destruction… its impact is beyond imagination.”
Lua instinctively covered her mouth. This was a catastrophic possibility, utterly alien to the power she knew. She shuddered at the thought that destructive force could be wielded without true understanding.
“At first, one maiden succumbed. When she saw no consequence for her actions, two more followed. Then four, then eight… and just like that, a crisis erupted as most of the maidens surrendered to that temptation.”[B:3]
The heavens seemed to turn their back on the maidens. Voices of distrust and resentment against them erupted across the land. It was a natural consequence; their power, instead of saving the world, had become a tool to fuel the chaos. Of the hundreds of maidens, only one remained by the Great Maiden’s side to the end: Yukina.
Yukina was a young maiden, but her talent was unmatched. Her intuitive talent for seeing an object, grasping its core principles, and replicating it perfectly was simply unrivaled. No one surpassed her in comprehension, so she felt a natural revulsion for the other maidens who ignored understanding to wield their power recklessly. The way they used their gift was a stain on the name of the maiden.
However, Yukina was also tormented by a different kind of temptation: the urge to use her immense power to fix the broken world. A core principle dictated that maidens, due to their great power, must never step into the forefront. It was an ironclad rule that they must act from the shadows, never disturbing the Divine’s balance. But to Yukina’s eyes, this rule seemed a mere excuse for incompetence and cowardice. The world was burning; were they to just stand by and watch? Though her intentions were good, a powerful impulse to shatter that principle grew within her.
One night, as quiet moonlight filtered onto the Shrine’s veranda, Yukina knelt before the Great Maiden, Hana.
“Great Maiden… no, Hana-sama.”
Yukina’s voice was heavy with anguish.
“We cannot allow this to continue. The world is on the brink of ruin. Should we not… should we not use our power in a righteous way to correct this chaos?”
The Great Maiden closed her eyes, her breath calm. This torment was no different from that of countless maidens she had watched over for decades, even centuries. But in Yukina’s voice, there was a genuine pain and desperation she had not felt from the others.
“Yukina. I know your heart. I know well how fiercely you wish to save this suffering world. But such a wish, when it becomes excessive, can curdle into arrogance.”
Hana’s voice was gentle, but firm.
“A maiden’s power is for maintaining balance, not for forcing it. If we step into the light to change the world, we only become another cause of imbalance. It was true in the past, and it will be true in the future.”
“But, Hana-sama! Look at the evil the other maidens commit! They destroy without any comprehension! We… we must be different! With my level of comprehension, I can surely…!”
Yukina’s voice grew agitated, her eyes wavering. The Great Maiden slowly opened her eyes, her gaze meeting Yukina’s.
“A blade drawn with righteous intent will inevitably turn upon its wielder. No matter how extraordinary your comprehension is, an act that defies the Divine’s providence will only lead to ruin. Please, don’t… don’t become like them, Yukina.”
In Hana’s deep gaze lay the sorrow of one who had seen it all before, and a desperate plea for Yukina’s sake.[B:4]
That night, Yukina left Hana. Beneath the quiet moonlight, her departing figure was a shadow, both resolute and wavering. Hana could understand Yukina’s heart—the fierce desire to not turn away from a burning world, to try and save it with her own hands. Though she knew it was the wrong path, Hana could only pray for Yukina’s safety. Clutching her aching heart, she stared silently into the darkness where Yukina had vanished.
Months passed. The peaceful stillness of the Shrine was broken as tattered and broken figures began to return, one by one. They were the maidens who had left. They were in ruins. Their clothes were rags, their faces caked with blood and dirt. Their eyes swam with terror, despair, and a raw, uncomprehending confusion. They were so ravaged that even their powerful transformation ability seemed a meaningless thing.
Before Hana could even ask what had happened, their condition screamed of a horrifying defeat. The Great Maiden understood everything from their eyes, and from the terrible aura of the world that clung to them. Yukina must have gathered followers and formed a militia to protect the suffering masses. But her ideals would have shattered against the colossal wall of reality. The other maidens had fared no better. They had clearly overestimated their power, only to be met by the unpredictable ingenuity and will of humans. They had learned the bitter lesson that human strategy and collective resolve could launch a terrifying counterattack even against a maiden’s power, and they had fled here.
The Great Maiden sensed that the Divine’s stern judgment would soon fall upon them. With a pained expression, she became the voice of the Divine and rebuked them.
“You have misused the power granted by the Divine and shattered the balance of the world. You have trespassed into the human realm and with your arrogance plunged the world into deeper chaos. Now, you cannot escape the Divine’s wrath.”
Their gazes were fixed on the floor, showing no hint of defiance. They only trembled in fear. The Great Maiden’s gaze finally came to rest on the battered Yukina.
“Yukina. Though you began with a righteous heart, you ultimately chose the wrong path. You must accept that your arrogance, in its quest to save the world, has instead left a deeper wound.”
The Great Maiden’s rebuke was a sharp blade piercing their hearts. But the maidens had never witnessed divine punishment firsthand. The greatest pain they knew was the nullification of their own power. They could not begin to imagine the true meaning or the horror of the sentence that awaited them. They did not yet know that the very ground beneath their feet was about to swallow them whole.[B:5]
A colossal shadow seemed to fall from the sky. The moment of the Divine’s stern judgment was at hand. The broken maidens who had returned to the Shrine froze, trembling in terror. An irresistible, overwhelming force washed over them, and before they could even scream, the body of every maiden began to dissolve into light.
When the dazzling, terrible light faded, nothing remained where they had stood. The maidens’ bodies were gone. In their place were only scattered piles of fine sand and small stones. Their forms had been broken down into the smallest of particles, to be scattered on the world’s winds, in its waters, and deep within its earth. It was a horrifying punishment: to remain conscious but without form, forever wandering the world without anchor or identity. An eternity of torment had begun.
Where all the other maidens had vanished, Yukina stood alone. She trembled, witnessing the unbelievable sight. She instinctively understood the horrifying implication of the others’ punishment. That was the Divine’s judgment. There could be no greater suffering than to exist forever, yet not exist at all. Knowing she would face the same fate, Yukina squeezed her eyes shut, her heart hammering against her ribs.
Then, a great voice echoed from the heavens once more.
“Yukina. Though you walked a misguided path, your heart was not moved by the selfish greed of the foolish. For this, you are spared eternal punishment.”
Yukina’s eyes snapped open. The verdict was unbelievable. All the others were gone, cast into endless torment, yet she alone was spared. Tears of regret and relief flooded her eyes.
“You shall become a teapot to hold and serve tea. You will humbly serve the world you sought to disrupt, and through this act, atone for your arrogance.”
At that moment, Yukina’s body began to glow. As her flesh slowly hardened into smooth, cool porcelain, the pain was immense, but she bowed her head, tears streaming down her face. A genuine gratitude for the Divine’s mercy filled her. Thus, she was reborn—an object of punishment, and a vessel for atonement.
The Great Maiden Hana observed the entire process in silence, her face a mask of pain, sorrow, and resignation. When Yukina’s forced transformation was complete, the voice from the heavens addressed Hana.
“She shall endure this penance for ninety cycles of ninety waxing and waning moons. You will watch over her and await the day her sins are absolved.”
The voice from the heavens fell silent. The Great Maiden carefully embraced the newly born porcelain teapot, which glowed with a subtle sheen. Then, she looked at Lua and whispered, her voice carrying an inexplicable sorrow and the weight of untold ages.
“Ninety cycles of ninety waxing and waning moons… as for precisely how long that is… even I do not know, Lua.”[B:6]
Lua felt her hand, holding the teacup, tremble slightly. The story the Great Maiden told was a truth far more terrifying than she could have ever imagined. Eternal punishment. The existential agony of being scattered across the world as sand or dust, with only a conscious mind left to wander endlessly. It was a despair deeper than death itself. Lua broke out in a cold sweat, seized by terror. She had never dreamed that the “punishment” she had vaguely heard of carried such a dreadful meaning.
And then, like pieces of a puzzle, the aftermath of that horrific punishment clicked into place. After all the maidens who left the Shrine were punished and had vanished, the current community of maidens must have been slowly rebuilt, as if rising from ruins. It also became clear why Mai, though much younger than the Great Maiden, possessed the longest history among the living maidens. Mai was likely the first of that rebuilt community. Born around the time the conflict of the courts ended, she, at roughly 650 years of age, must have been the initial seed to receive the divine call after that era of destruction and chaos.
On the veranda, Aki, who had come to visit the Great Maiden only to overhear the entire story, was also in shock. Aki was a scholarly maiden. In her studies of ancient records, she had occasionally encountered theories that the human population had once been drastically reduced by some unknown catastrophe before rebuilding to its current scale. Aki had regarded those stories as little more than ancient myths or legends. But now, hearing the Great Maiden’s tale, she began to suspect that those ‘theories’ were the tragic truth of the maidens’ own history. A chilling thought crossed her mind: that this monumental event that befell the maidens might have impacted the history of humanity itself.
The Great Maiden watched Lua sip her tea in silence. Then, she carefully picked up the teapot she had shared with Lua. Her touch was incredibly gentle and affectionate. As she stroked the smooth surface of the old porcelain, her eyes held both the regret of ages and a profound love.
The Great Maiden’s fingers glided over the teapot. She gave a faint, distant smile and looked directly into Lua’s eyes.
“Now, do you understand why I always keep this teapot by my side?”[B:7]
The question echoed in the stillness. At that moment, a small movement came from the side of the veranda. Aki, who had been listening in secret, cautiously revealed herself, her face a mixture of apology and embarrassment.
“Great Maiden… I apologize. I did not mean to… but I heard the entire story.”
Aki bowed her head low. The Great Maiden gazed at her for a moment, then waved a hand gently. “There is no need to apologize, Aki. It is a story all must know when the time is right. Your hearing it now may also be the Divine’s will.”
At the Great Maiden’s generous words, Aki finally lifted her head. In her eyes, alongside the shock of the tale, flickered the maiden’s scholarly inquisitiveness.
“Great Maiden, you mentioned ‘ninety cycles of ninety waxing and waning moons’ earlier. Does this perhaps mean 90 multiplied by 90—a total of 8,100 lunar months?”
Aki’s voice was cautious, yet confident. The Great Maiden nodded silently. Aki let out a small sigh, her mind already racing. As if entranced, she traced the air with her fingers, making swift calculations.
“8,100 months… if an average lunar month is 29.53 days, that is roughly 239,200 days… which, converted to the solar calendar, is 655 years and a few months.”
Aki took a sharp breath, her eyes wide.
“If the period of great turmoil you spoke of was in the 1380s, just before the reunification of the courts in 1392… then 655 years from that point… that time isn’t years in the future—it’s a time that has nearly arrived. Perhaps… perhaps the punishment is already over, and she has returned to her maiden form!”
Aki’s voice trembled with excitement. Her gaze fell upon the Great Maiden’s hand, still cradling the teapot. Lua gasped, stunned by the calculation. The hope that the terrible punishment, the long agony, might finally be over washed through her.
With a trembling voice, Aki asked her final question.
“Great Maiden… if she were freed… what would be the first thing you say to Yukina?”
The Great Maiden looked from Aki to Lua, and a small, chiding smile touched her lips.
“The teapot is right here, yet you ask me? You foolish girls.”
But her eyes were infinitely warm and deep. The Great Maiden drew the teapot into her arms, holding it like a cherished child.
“What would I say? I would simply say… ‘I have missed you, Yukina. I have longed to be with you again’… and I would hold her tight.”[B:8]
That night, the Great Maiden went to her rest as usual—a short, deep sleep, as was the maidens’ custom. In the early morning, as the blue pre-dawn light filled the room, she opened her eyes. In her hazy consciousness, she felt a warmth beside her—a small, precious body heat she was not accustomed to feeling.
The Great Maiden slowly turned her head. There, in the faint light, a figure both familiar and strange lay sleeping peacefully beside her. Neat features, dark hair cascading calmly, the sound of peaceful breaths. It was no longer the cold touch of porcelain. The teapot was gone, and in its place was Yukina.
Aki’s calculation had been correct. The long, long penance of ‘ninety times ninety moons’ had finally come to an end. A smile of regret, longing, and profound relief spread across the Great Maiden’s face. More than six hundred years. A time of suffering and atonement had at last restored her.
The Great Maiden carefully reached out and gently embraced the still-sleeping Yukina, feeling the warmth and the soft rhythm of her breath. This was the moment she had awaited for so long. Now, everything was in its rightful place.
‘It seems the time has come for that Maiden Life Guide Aki wrote.’
Holding Yukina gently, the Great Maiden closed her eyes again. Enveloped in a warm and peaceful aura, she drifted into a deep sleep. The dawn of a new era was breaking.[B:9]