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Summary
Kazuha was a god, and a well-loved one at that: in his endless wanderings, he had helped countless people, and those people pledged their faith and loyalty to him in turn. They built temples, wove prayers, and organized celebrations, and while Kazuha did not particularly enjoy such shows of reverence, he figured the festival celebrating his five hundred years of life would be one worth attenting, if nothing else, to make his followers happy. What he could not have foreseen was that a certain someone from his past would make an appearance, or that a once bittersweet memory could be so violently soured in the span of a single evening.