As night fell and the city was cloaked in darkness, Daimon found comfort in the solitude of the garden. Away from the technological chaos of his war room, he stood before a small Shinto shrine nestled among the cherry blossoms, a reminder of the traditions that had shaped him.

The shrine was simple, made of wood and stone, and it symbolized a world beyond his empire of shadows. Here, Daimon, the feared leader of Kurohebi, came to connect with the kami—the spirits honored in Shinto belief.

He lit a small lantern, the flame flickering in the darkness, casting a soft glow around him. Bowing deeply, he clapped his hands twice, a ritual to call the attention of the kami. His voice was a quiet whisper in the still garden, but it carried the weight of his hopes.

"Great spirits, guardians of my ancestors," he murmured, "give me the strength to uphold our traditions in these changing times. Guide me with honor, so I may lead with wisdom and courage."

Standing there, surrounded by the old cherry trees that had witnessed generations, Daimon felt connected to his heritage. Shintoism emphasized respect for nature and balance—values that resonated with his approach to life. It celebrated purity, simplicity, and harmony, a contrast to the complicated and often ruthless life he led.

He poured water over his hands from a small bamboo ladle, a ritual to purify his spirit. The act brought him a sense of peace, a small break from the constant pressures of leading Kurohebi.

Daimon then placed a simple offering of sake and rice at the shrine, a gesture of respect and gratitude to the spirits. He knew that in his world, the lines between right and wrong, honor and dishonor, were often blurred. But in these quiet moments, he sought clarity and a return to the core values he had been taught since childhood.