The main hall and the rear hall are separated by a small grove of trees. The fact that such a small, relatively unknown shrine can occupy a small grove in Shinjuku, Tokyo, where land is incredibly valuable, suggests at least two things. First, Ichinenbun Shrine has a long history, existing at least before Shinjuku became a bustling area. Second, this shrine has powerful figures backing it, at least a prominent member of parliament.
Otherwise, the Ichinen Shrine would have been moved long ago, how could it have survived to this day?
Just as Duanmu Ci was following the priest through the grove, he suddenly saw a girl dressed in white clothes and red pants run out of the back hall in the grove, wearing red straw sandals, and run to the other side, disappearing under the eaves in an instant.
"This is a witch," Duanmu Ci thought to himself.
The shrine maiden, as an ancient religious profession, has an extremely long history, with legends suggesting its existence in prehistoric times. It is even recorded in detail in the *Zhou Li* (Rites of Zhou). During the Tang and Song dynasties, shrine maidens even held positions in the imperial court, after which their practice disappeared. In Japan, however, the tradition of shrine maidens has continued, although nowadays there are very few formally appointed shrine maidens in Japanese shrines; they are generally employed as part-time workers.
Duanmu Ci didn't pay much attention. Following the priest, he arrived at the rear hall. This rear hall was exquisite, unlike the grandeur of ordinary palace-style buildings. It was a building with drafts on all four sides; rather than calling it a rear hall, it was more like an enlarged "rear pavilion." The rear hall had no walls, only dozens of gauze and bamboo curtains hanging from the eaves for privacy, which fluttered in the wind.
Duanmu Ci stood outside and could even see what was happening inside the rear hall.
The furnishings in the rear hall were extremely simple: a plain white screen, a few tatami mats, and a knife rack.
Before the plain white screen, an old man dressed in white knelt, his eyes closed in meditation, his expression still, with nothing around him except a long sword placed across his knees.
It's as if he's a samurai who has sheathed his sword for a long time, yet he can still draw it and fight at any time.
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