Akiko turned the tamagushi so that the stem was towards the himorogi, and placed it carefully on the table, before taking one step back, bowing twice, clapping twice, and bowing again. She felt surprisingly calm again, and glanced at Shiraishi, who nodded.

Akiko walked over to the table at the side, bowing her head as she crossed in  front of the himorogi, and picked up the first offering tray, the one with rice on. She handed it to Shiraishi, who took it and placed it on the table in front of the himorogi. Between them, they put the rest of the offerings there, and then Akiko knelt again, on a mat off to one side, while Shiraishi started reading another norito, this one calling on Tamao to be calm and at peace.

As the words continued, Akiko found herself acutely aware of her surroundings. She could feel the uneven ground even through the tatami mat she was kneeling on, pressing into her knees. The heat from the fires fell on the skin of her face, making her cheeks flush red, and her vestments gradually became warmer against her skin. The wind in her hair seemed playful, scattering strands around so that they tickled her forehead, her cheeks, her nose.

The crackling of the fires seemed to fall into time with the cadences of the norito, and the scent of pine sap became stronger, combining with the smell of smoke. The sounds and smells of the city faded away entirely. Akiko glanced up, and the clear sky was studded with thousands of stars, the milky way stretched across it like a belt. She looked down again, at the dancing shadows within the rocks of the iwakura, and then at the shadows of the sakaki on the iwakura, playing across the go-shintai in its bag, making it look as if it was moving.

The mouth of the bag widened, and Tamao’s head, tiny, emerged, swaying in time to a rhythm that Akiko could not hear, but that the flames seemed to take up. He emerged entirely, coiling on the platform and raising his head, still swaying. Akiko could feel the rhythm now, beating gently in her blood, in her bones, making her spine tingle. Tamao looked at her.

And leapt.

The snake came straight towards her face, and then vanished. Akiko could feel something warm and heavy around her neck, though, and the rhythm was stronger now, throbbing in her guts. She suddenly realised that she had begun swaying in time to it, and she tried to stop.

She couldn’t.

“…kashikomikashikomimomosu.â€ As Shiraishi finished the norito Akiko’s arms reached down, pressing against the floor as she bent down. There was a surge of panic as Akiko realised that she was not moving her own body.

Then the rhythm washed through her, sweeping away all other thought, all other feelings, sweeping her up on to her feet, and then up further into the air, springing and spinning, dancing as the rhythm dictated. She could hear it now, the throb of great drums, the whisper of thousands of small bells, and then, over it all, the thin, pure note of a flute.

She was vaguely aware of leaping in front of Shiraishi and dancing before the himorogi, moving in ways that seemed natural, new, and long-practised, all at once. She spun to take the tamagushi back from the table, holding it up in one hand as she danced.

Her feet pounded the ground, weaving their own rhythm in with that of the drums, and light flashed from her footsteps, brighter and brighter, competing with the firelight, the stars shining ever brighter overhead as she spun round the himorogi, touching the poles holding the shimenawa, shocks coursing up her arms as she did so, the tamagushi now trailing light behind it as she swept it around her, light that hung in the air, shifting, in ribbons, ribbons that became curtains, curtains that surrounded the himorogi, Akiko, and Shiraishi, marking the edge of the sacred space.

Akiko moved even faster, her breathing still calm and unhurried as she swept the tamagushi through the air around the sakaki branch on the platform. It began to tremble and pulse, as if there was something within it, something trying to get out.

A shout burst from her lips as she leapt into the air, spinning, her fingers scattering light as the flute swept ever higher. She landed on the other side of the himorogi and leapt again, spinning through the air to land behind Shiraishi, and then spring up again, to land on the other side, thrusting the tamagushi towards the iwakura. A flare of light from within the rocks answered, visible even through the curtains of light that still flickered around them.

She was singing, she realised. Singing words she did not know, to a tune she had never heard before that was somehow utterly familiar. The tempo of the song got faster and faster, its melody soaring and plunging, but Akiko’s voice never faltered. This was her role.

She stopped, abruptly, sinking to her knees between the himorogi and the iwakura, looking at the table. The exhilaration still coursed through her, but she was entirely still, even her breath bated has she waited. The sakaki branch was pulsing more strongly now, light burning within it as the ripples of the bright curtains fell into step.

An arrow of light swept up through the branch, shattering it  and the platform with a crack. In its place was Tamao, coiled within the shimenawa, his scales shining red, green, purple, gold and silver in the light from the curtains, his eyes shining still more brightly than the stars.

Akiko fell forward, bowing her face to the ground once, twice. Sitting straight, she clapped. The first was a roll of thunder, the second the roar of an earthquake. She bowed once more, and straightened up to look Tamao straight in the eyes.

<em>I am not afraid any more.</em>

“Bright Child, hear and speak!â€

Tamao.