After the Ryujin Mizusha, we drew omikuji at the shrine office. The last time I’d done one, at New Year’s, I’d gotten kichi (good fortune) — I was hoping for better this time.
“Oh, Yuito, look! Mine’s daikichi — best fortune.”
“Good for you.”
“Must be from my daily good behavior, huh.”
Kano was visibly thrilled. The thrill of getting daikichi must have been real.
Hoping the streak would carry, I opened mine. It read: suekichi — lowest end of the kichi range.
“Suekichi? That’s a downgrade from kichi.”
“My win.”
“There’s no win/loss in omikuji.”
“Maybe not, but.”
“Anyway, the contents matter more than the rank.”
I started reading my fortune. Wishes and studies sections were decent — and then I saw the love section.
“Huh?!”
“What? Something dramatic written?”
She peeked over. She fell silent for a second, then put it together.
“Oh, so love sections can say give up, huh.”
“We came to a relationship-binding shrine and I got told to give up on love? Seems excessive.”
“It’s so rare, it’s almost lucky in its own way?”
“That is not comforting…”
Being told by the gods to give up on love is severe. Mild trauma, actually. I don’t want to draw omikuji for a long time — I don’t even want to see one.
“Mine said things go your way — I thought everyone got positive stuff.”
“That’s incredibly positive — want to trade?”
“That might cancel my fortune. Denied.”
We headed to the omikuji-tying spot. You’re technically allowed to take them home, but mine was too horrible to want to.
“Do you know why we tie omikuji, Yuito?”
”…To tie a bond with the gods, I think?”
I remembered hearing it somewhere. Had been completely forgotten until just now.
“Right. The idea is that by tying a bond with the gods, things get nudged in a positive direction.”
“If the gods are real, I have words for them about the verdict I just got.”
“That’ll probably get you cursed.”
After tying our fortunes, we walked back along the approach to the next destination. We chatted as we walked toward the shores of Lake Ashi. Our target: the vermilion torii standing in the lake.
“This is the Peace Torii?”
“Insane Instagram material.”
The view of Lake Ashi framed by the torii is a famous photo spot, and the line was long. The Peace Torii with Lake Ashi in the background is probably top-tier Hakone Instagram material.
The Peace Torii itself was built after WWII to commemorate the San Francisco Peace Treaty.
The plaque bears the word “Peace” in the then-prime-minister’s calligraphy, but it faces the lake, so from the land side we couldn’t see it. We waited our turn and took selfies in front of the torii.
The shots — torii seemingly floating on the lake — were going to be very social-media-friendly. As I was thinking it, Kano was about to upload one.
“H-hold on. Are you actually posting that?”
“Yeah, why?”
“There are several reasons. You alone, fine — but how are you going to explain me being in the shot?”
That would absolutely lead to misunderstandings.
“Uhh, how about boyfriend?”
“My brother and Suzuno follow your account — that’s a non-starter.”
I didn’t want to be misunderstood by Suzuno, but my number-one priority was that my brother not find out about this trip. The gag order I’d put on my mom would be wasted otherwise.
“Fine, I’ll let you off. Be grateful.”
“Thanks, I guess.”
I said the word but had zero gratitude in my heart.