I stood a little way back, a respectful distance, while Tatsuki stood in front of the altar, his head bent, eyes closed, and hands clasped in prayer.
The shrine was a small structure, not higher than my shoulder, and made of wooden boards and roofed with tile. One of the Midoriya - Tappei's grandfather, from what I had heard - had built it long ago, using wood from the local forest, and had hauled the boards up the hill using his own wheelbarrow. In the proximity of the shrine were a number of statuettes of deified ancestor figures from the town's prominent families, and an artist had been hired in a good year once to paint them to make them more life-like. But the rain of generations had poured upon the figures, until now there was only the faded shadow of color left on them.
Within the actual wooden shrine, snugly under the roof, sat four solemn wooden figures, which had also been carved by the elder Midoriya. These were the little gods themselves: beginning at the right, there was the lucky and mirthful god, Yebisu, followed by the kindly-looking Jizou Buddha, with his staff and wish-granting jewel; then there was Kannon, the boddhisattva of mercy and compassion, and lastly, the town's patron kami of agriculture and success, Oinari.
In front of the shrine was a small heap of offerings that previous visitors had left: there were mostly old and wood-rotted sticks of incense, as well as some shriveled flowers and crumpled pieces of paper on which devotees had written their prayer requests for the gods to see and perhaps answer, and which were cleaned away by civic volunteers every New Year's when they had accumulated to such a degree that they took away from the serenity of the place.
Presently, Tatsuki unclasped his hands, opened his eyes, and looked up, giving a little bow before turning around to walk where I was.
"What did you ask for?" I asked him, as he got closer, putting my hands inside the pockets of my pants to ward off the biting cold which numbed them.
"I didn't ask for anything," he answered, coming to stand at my right side. "I was giving thanks. I would have put some incense, but I forgot to bring some along. After all," he added, with a paternal tone, "they have power over the Earth."
"I see," I replied, nodding. There came a moment of silence, and I reflected on the thought that he had gone to the shrine to thank for my arriving and being with him for yet another extended period, and it made sense, seeing as he came from a family of temple-builders. The whole thing made me feel embarrassed, but in such a way that it was pleasant and somewhat exhilarating.
"What are you smiling for?"
"Nothing, just something I remembered," I lied, unable to rid my face of the smile.
"You're making fun of me, aren't you?"
"No..."
He looked bashful, and somewhat hurt, and he shifted his feet.
"You don't believe, or what?"
"Believe in what?"
"You know. The gods, and all that," he said, with a subtle - perhaps unconscious - nod of the head towards the shrine.
"Oh. I suppose I do. I've been to the temples, a couple of times. Last I went, it was to ask for a passing score on the university admission exams. I did fairly well, so I suppose they were listening. Besides, I wasn't laughing at you."
"You were-"
"Not at you."
"Then what?"
"We've been together for some time now," I began, feeling somewhat embarrassed, looking down at the ground, before raising my head to look at him in the eye, "and yet, you always do something to make me feel like when we first got together. You know, like when you have butterflies in your stomach, or you have your first kiss. When we came to the shrine, and I realized you came to give thanks for my being here... Well, I suppose it made me feel special. It feels really good, having somebody who likes your company that much. I wasn't laughing - I just couldn't keep from smiling."
He looked at me, seriously at first, and I could see his eyes clearly. Slowly, he smiled, and as he did, he put one burly arm around me, pulling me closer to him.
"Of course I do," he said, quietly, and it sounded more like he was saying it to himself than to me. "Of course I do. You think we could have been together for two years now, unless I liked your company just that much?"
I didn't answer. I just let my head recline against his chest, as he squeezed my shoulder. We stood like that for a whole, his face fixed on the shrine, though his eyes seemed to be staring at something beyond, as though he were in deep thought. Then I felt a tug, as he motioned me towards the stairs from which we had ascended up to the shrine, and I followed.