It was raining steadily by the time Akiko reached Tamao Shrine, but at least it wasn’t too heavy. She’d bought a light rain coat from a convenience store, and it seemed to be keeping her largely dry. She reflected that the rain would reduce her chances of meeting anyone at the shrine, for which she was grateful; she could feel herself starting to blush at the mere thought of explaining to anyone why she was there in the afternoon.

As she climbed the steps, she intended to go straight into the woods, where she couldn’t be seen, but as she passed through the torii she found that the shrine building demanded her attention, and she couldn’t bring herself to forgo paying her respects. She quickly rinsed her hands, then walked as quickly as she dared to the shrine, ringing the bell, bowing, clapping her hands, and bowing again, as instructed. She paused a moment, looking into the gloom within the shrine, but there was no sign of anything out of the ordinary. She hurried from the veranda before anyone could see her.

Within the trees, she felt a lot calmer. The leaves blocked most of the rain, and the sound of drops running off them and hitting the ground was soothing. The scent of wet soil filled the air, and, when Akiko stood still to listen, she could hear an occasional scurrying, as some small creature hurried about its business.

She looked around, as her eyes adjusted to the relative gloom, and started gathering rubbish, the garish colours of the packaging standing out against the natural tones of the woodland floor. With no particular plan, she just wandered into the woods, picking up rubbish as she came to it, feeling that the further in she was, the less likely she was to be spotted.

Her bag was about half full when she found herself looking at one of the largest trees she had ever seen. Its trunk, looking almost as though it was formed of three or four trunks coiled together, was wider than her outstretched arms, and as she looked up into the canopy she realised that the rain was entirely blocked, the layers upon layers of green leaves stretching high into the sky. She looked back down at the trunk, noticing the rope tied around it, decorated with folded strips of white paper, and felt an urge to touch the bark.

She thought she was resisting the urge, which was completely irrational, but she found herself walking towards the tree and raising her hand. The bark was slightly warm to the touch, rough with the scars of years, and as she ran her hand over it the sensation sent shivers up her arm and down her back. Stepping back, she put her rubbish bag on the ground, and then placed both hands on the bark. Her tension seemed to drain out of her, into the tree, and she relaxed against it.

She was at the bottom of the shrine steps, with a full bag of rubbish, before it struck her that she had paid no attention to whether anyone saw her on her way out. With a stab of panic she looked back up the steps, but there was no-one there. She seemed to be safe.