The inner sanctum of the Inaba shrine smelled of aged hinoki wood, dried sage, and the sweet, lingering incense of centuries of quiet prayers. Rain drummed against the wooden shutters, a rhythmic, mournful cadence that seemed to mourn with the ancient gods of the mountain. When Kenji collapsed onto the tatami, Maya felt a terrifying coldness seize her heart. The Oyabun—the indestructible dragon who ruled thousands of men with an…
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