The Lantern Keeper of the Forgotten Shrine
There is a place deep in the mountain forests where the moss grows thick, and the paths twist like sleepy dragon tails.
The village cats call it the Forgotten Shrine.
They say it belongs to yokai — mysterious spirits who play tricks on travelers.
But no cat in the village had seen it for many years... until Hikari came along.
Hikari was a small tabby cat who dreamed of becoming a great lantern-maker like her grandmother. She loved light — how it danced on water, how it chased away the dark.
One misty evening, Hikari wandered into the woods to gather fireflies for her newest lantern. But the forest was not like the paths near home. The trees here were ancient, whispering in a language only the wind could understand.
Soon, the path disappeared beneath her paws.
She was lost.
But just when her heart began to thump like a festival drum, she saw them — tiny blue lights floating between the trees.
Hitodama. Spirit lights.
They bobbed gently, as if waiting.
With no other choice, Hikari followed.
They led her to a crumbling torii gate, half-covered in ivy. Beyond it stood a small shrine, its wood worn smooth with age. Lanterns — dozens of them — floated like gentle stars above the stone steps.
And waiting at the top... was the Lantern Keeper.
He was tall and slender, cloaked in shadows, with a mask shaped like a smiling fox. But his voice, when he spoke, was warm like summer rain.
"Little one," he said, "why have you come to the forgotten place?"
Hikari bowed low, remembering her grandmother's teachings.
"I am lost," she whispered. "And I do not wish to trouble the spirits."
The Lantern Keeper chuckled softly.
"You carry respect in your heart. That is a rare light."
He told her that long ago, cats would leave offerings here — stories, songs, small kindnesses. But as the world grew busy, the shrine was left behind.
"My lanterns are dim," he sighed. "Without visitors, even spirits grow lonely."
Hikari's whiskers twitched.
She reached into her satchel and pulled out her unfinished lantern — a simple frame of bamboo and paper.
"It is not much," she said shyly, "but would you like to hear its story?"
And so, she told him. Of her village. Of her grandmother's laughter. Of dreams lit brighter than stars.
With every word, the shrine began to glow.
The hitodama swirled joyfully.
The Lantern Keeper bowed deeply.
"You have rekindled what was fading," he said. "For that, I will guide you home."
They walked together beneath the floating lights, back to where the forest grew gentler.
As the village rooftops came into view, Hikari turned to bow... but the Lantern Keeper was already gone.
Only her little lantern remained — now glowing softly from within.
Even now, some say if you walk near the old forest on a misty night, you might see a single light bobbing in the dark.
Guiding you.
Watching.
Remembering.