By noon, as the first rays of sun broke through the morning mist and began warming the air, mom and Tomoe finally emerged from their slumber. The house, which had been quiet and almost drowsy, gradually came to life — the familiar clinking of dishes, the soft tread of footsteps on wooden floors, and mom's calm, steady voice filled the space. She was always serene, even in these lazy morning hours.

I'd been up for a while. Sitting at the table, I watched as Tomoe stretched, still half-asleep, while mom glanced at the clock with a barely perceptible frown, as if blaming it for how quickly the morning had slipped away.

"Well, are we ready to finally head out and explore the city?" Senko asked with a smile, carefully setting the last slice of bread on a plate before looking over at Tomoe and me.

After a quick breakfast and some time to freshen up, we stepped outside.

Kyoto greeted us with cool, refreshing winter air, carrying faint scents of wood and crisp freshness. Unlike the north, there was no sharp, biting cold here — just a gentle chill. Somewhere in the distance, the soft chimes of temple bells mingled with the muffled voices of passersby, creating a strangely calm and rhythmic atmosphere.

As I looked around, the most striking thing was Senko herself. Disguised as a human, she blended seamlessly into the scene — even my Jogan couldn't see through her mask to reveal the fox ears or tail underneath. She was dressed simply but with a refined elegance. Her eyes, usually filled with an ageless wisdom, now appeared almost mundane, yet that did nothing to diminish her aura of mystery. She effortlessly disappeared into the crowd, but there was still a hint of something hidden about her. Maybe it was just an illusion, a trick of my own perception, but I knew exactly who she really was.

The city of Kyoto was bustling with its usual activity. People wandered leisurely to their destinations, tourists snapped photos of every detail they could, and cars and bicycles navigated the narrow streets. The four of us — mom, Senko, Tomoe, and I — strolled together, engaged in lively conversation. Tomoe, as always, was excitedly sharing her latest witchcraft studies, while mom, surprisingly upbeat and attentive, joined in, nodding and adding her own thoughts. Today, she actually looked like a proper mom — not the cynical, detached figure I was used to, but someone walking with us, indulging our whims, smiling without any of her usual edge. If I hadn't known who she really was, I might've taken advantage of the moment to ask her to teach me some magic… But I knew all too well about the devil lurking beneath her facade!

We wandered the streets, absorbed in our conversation, until we reached our first stop — Fushimi Inari Shrine.

As we approached the shrine's iconic red torii gates, I noticed Senko's pace slow, her gaze growing more focused. She might have been disguised as an ordinary person, but there was something about this place that seemed to stir something deep within her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" Senko's voice was light, but I could sense a hint of eagerness, as if she was genuinely curious about my answer. She looked at me with a playful smile, her normally calm eyes sparkling with a touch of mischief. "I've always loved places like this."

Only Senko would find joy in strolling under thousands of bright red torii gates and soaking in the atmosphere. A person — no, a Youkai — with her perspective would definitely feel right at home among these majestic gates stretching endlessly ahead.

"Well, to each their own," Tomoe muttered, casting a skeptical eye over the long stairs and endless row of crimson arches. "I'd rather be somewhere new…"

mom chuckled softly, as if this was something she'd heard many times before. "You've always been a restless one."

I, on the other hand, stayed quiet — not because I didn't have anything to say, but because I was totally absorbed. Fushimi Inari is a sacred place, and I could sense, or rather see, it from the moment I set foot on the temple grounds. My Clear Eyes showed me a world beyond ordinary sight. The entire area was enveloped in a lush green mist, almost as if it were breathing, pulsing with life. It wove through the gates, sank into the earth beneath our feet, wrapped around the ancient stone paths, and climbed the steps, blending into the temple above.

This wasn't just the aura of the place; it was the flow of life itself — something primal and ancient, part of a vast, unknowable whole. I'd felt similar energy before, from Kuoh to Tokyo, and now here in Kyoto, but this shrine was different. Here, it felt almost tangible, like a thick, rolling smoke at my feet, filling the air around me.

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I knew this energy all too well. It was exactly what the "Breathing and Walking" technique was meant to absorb. In this place, where it was so abundant, it felt like I'd been breathing stale city air all this time and had suddenly stepped into pristine nature. The contrast was so stark that each breath was filled with new sensations, a freshness and strength that was impossible to ignore.

My contemplation was broken when I heard Senko's voice nearby.

"Your son…" she murmured, clearly surprised.

"Don't ask me how, but yes, he can see a lot more than most people," mom replied casually, as if she'd already accepted this fact long ago.

"You don't know how?" Senko sounded both shocked and slightly irritated. "No, wait, that's not what I meant…"

I was surprised she noticed. Even though Senko was my mom's friend, I wasn't about to flaunt my ability to interact with life energy in front of her. That's exactly why I'd used "Breathing and Walking" a few times during our conversation last night, to gauge her reaction. She didn't seem to notice it then — but now?

mom just shrugged and gave a small smile, saying, "He's punishing me for not teaching him magic."

"You didn't teach him magic?" Senko's surprise deepened; it was clear she hadn't expected that answer. "Alright, I won't press, but…"

"You know me," mom replied with a soft smirk, as if that alone explained everything.

"He's your son…" Senko muttered through clenched teeth, her tone surprisingly restrained.

"It's fine," I cut in, trying to break the tension. "We… have a unique relationship. Honestly, it's easier this way."

That was the truth. I'm not entirely sure how I would've turned out if I'd had a different kind of mom — a more nurturing one, maybe. In my past life, I'd already had someone like that, and even though I rarely think about my former life these days, replacing or forgetting her wasn't easy. With someone like Mikoto, there's never a dull moment, and her unique parenting style has taught me plenty. For all her quirks, she's always provided what I needed. When I told her about Akeno, she understood right away that the girl wasn't ordinary, accepting it without hesitation and even stepping in to protect me when I went to Akeno's birthday party.

"By the way, about what you mentioned earlier," I added, steering the conversation back to the strange green mist, "let's just say it's a witch's quirk of mine."

Senko looked at me like I was some rare creature she'd only just encountered, even in all her centuries. I guess that, even to her, someone interacting with life energy so easily was a bit unusual.

Unlike Senko, mom and Tomoe exchanged glances filled with knowing amusement. They'd gotten used to my "witchy" tendencies long ago, and it didn't seem to surprise them much anymore.

"You know what this is, right?" Senko asked.

"Prana," I replied calmly. "I'm a diligent self-taught student…," I trailed off with a grimace as Tomoe pinched my side, "and I'm not a bad pupil, either."

"More like a terrible one," Tomoe snickered.

Prana. That term has always fascinated me. My favorite theory about it originates from Sumerian-Babylonian mythology. It claims that heaven and earth are like spouses, with prana rising from the earth and mana descending from the heavens as expressions of their love. Their union brings balance, and through this eternal dance of prana and mana, all supernatural beings are born. According to ancient lore, we are their children, the offspring of heaven and earth.

If you delve into the details, prana is like the planet's breath — a life energy that permeates everything, from people to supernatural beings. But there's a critical difference: the prana flowing through nature — the earth, plants, air — is one form, while the prana within living beings transforms into life energy, known as Ki. It's this life energy that makes us alive.

Using pure prana is no small feat. It's harder to master than any other type of energy, and those who can control it earn the title of sages. The very art of wielding Ki and prana is called Senjutsu. To master Senjutsu is to become one with nature, to feel the planet's breath and guide its flow.

Honestly, I could say I have a basic version of Senjutsu. Thanks to the "Breathing and Walking" technique, I can tap into this breath of life, which lets me absorb prana. That's actually what Senko noticed… I have to admit, I'm a little disappointed it took her this long to catch on. It seems that at my current level with "Breathing and Walking," my connection to prana is so limited that it only caught her attention because we're in a place practically overflowing with it. Yeah, I'm so far from a true Senjutsu master that I can't even be called a novice.

"I think even your mother doesn't know everything about you," Senko said with a smirk, her voice carrying that playful edge that made me just a little uneasy.

mom looked up, her expression calm, but I caught a flicker of curiosity in her eyes.

"What do you mean?" she asked, like we were just having a casual chat over tea.

That you know I can see prana but have no clue I can actually absorb it… Not that I'd ever say that out loud. Like mom said, this is my little payback.

I pretended to think it over for a moment before replying with mock seriousness, "I heard somewhere that the key to a healthy relationship is keeping a little mystery in your life." I threw in a wink, like I'd just shared some profound wisdom I actually believed in.

Senko didn't miss a beat, leaning in and whispering loud enough for both mom and Tomoe to catch, "That's so dumb it's almost charming. But you know what? I'll play along."

"You really think that'll work on me?" mom narrowed her eyes, the familiar spark of challenge in her tone.

"Of course not!" Senko laughed, waving her hands like she was trying to dispel any tension. "I wouldn't dream of it."

"Knowing you, I think it might actually work," I smirked, throwing a look back at mom.