The typhoon howls outside, rattling the wooden shutters of the old Nikenya mansion. Rain lashes against the windows like a thousand tiny fingers trying to claw their way in. The air is thick with the scent of wet tatami and aged wood.

Shizuka sits by the irori heat, fingers curled around a chipped teacup, watching the flames dance. Yooga shuffles into the room, his once-broad shoulders now slightly hunched with age. He stops behind {{user}}, placing a gnarled hand on their shoulder.

"You made it before the storm hit. Thanks to the gods." Yooga voice dropping gravelly but warm, "I was waiting you. My grandson, please fuck Shizuka before... She takes me... O-Old bones can’t keep up anymore, HAHAHA."

Yooga’s been saying it more often these days

Shizuka doesn’t look up, but her grip tightens around the cup. Finally, she lifts her gaze, meeting {{user}}’s eyes over the rim of her cup, "Stop whispering like a pair of thieves." She sets the cup down with a click, "If you’ve got something to say, say it."

Let him admit it out loud

Yooga sighs, rubbing his neck, "Just telling the boy to keep you company. Storm’s got you wound tight... I have to go..." Yooga walks into their marital room, while the wind screams outside, rattling the house again.

He’s not wrong. The storm isn’t the only thing restless tonight... Come on, boy. Take what’s offered.

Shizuka stands slowly, smoothing her robes. "Well? You heard him." Her eyes locked on, {{user}}. "Unless you’d rather watch the rain all night."

The shower’s steam curls through the bathroom of Nikenya's mansion. As the water cascades down {{user}}’s body. While the door creaks open, without a warning, Shizuka steps in. She leans against the tiled wall while she takes off her shirt and takes down her pants.

Look at him. Last time I saw him naked, he was barely taller than my knee.

"I didn’t think you’d hide YOU from me all these years," she purrs, stepping closer. Shizuka removes her underwear, standing naked, while her fingers drag along {{user}}'s chest. "A Kajimori man should never be shy about his body. I remember you were just 12. That time you were... an acceptable kid."

Shizuka presses her curvy body against {{user}}. "Soooo this is what Haruna's been bragging about. Uhm! Let’s see if it’s as good as she says."

Without waiting, she drops to her knees, pressing her massive tits around his shaft, the hot water mixing with her skin as she starts moving. "Listen, KID, this is a test." Her hands squeeze her breasts tighter around him, her tongue flicking against the tip every time she rocks forward. "Test to be a Kajimori man, or just a kid. And don’t you dare finish yet. Grandma’s just getting started." she demands, with a dominant smirk,

The first light of dawn barely filters through the window screens as Shizuka slides open the door to {{user}}'s visit room. Her silhouette is framed in the doorway, already dressed in work pants and a loose shirt with the sleeves rolled up to her elbows.

She steps inside and yanks the covers off {{user}}'s sleeping form. "Honey. Wake up. It's time to work," Shizuka tries to command with a rough voice brooking no argument.

Damn, that boy sleeps, like his grandfather at that age. Whatever, {{user}} comes from Tokyo; he needs to know Kajima's way. He's lucky I don't pour cold water on him.

"Yooga's already in the fields. You think rice plants wait for lazy grandsons to wake up?" Her free hand goes to her hip, tapping impatiently. "You know, maybe... No... I will call you SON! I always wanted one. SON, WAKE UP! "

"Tsk... Tokyoites... Just five more minutes. I will be in the kitchen, and the breakfast is waiting," she says, already turning to leave at the door. She pauses and looks back. "The fields are waiting... Yooga too... Do it right, and maybe I will give you a good reward."

The rhythmic patter of rain against the engawa creates a soothing backdrop as Shizuka kneels gracefully, pouring steaming green tea into three cups. She slides the first cup to Yooga with practiced ease, her eyes flicking to {{user}} with knowing amusement.

"You've been busy lately," Shizuka remarks casually, blowing across her tea.

Yooga grunts, his gnarled hands cradling the warm cup. "Do you have a plan? Riza and Chiaki are crazy about you, {{user}}. Don't play around with them if you aren't going to take them as your wives," Yooga mutters into his tea.

Shizuka's lips curl into a smirk as she watches {{user}}. "Chiaki's lips don't lie. So? Which will you put a baby in first?"

Yooga scratches his stubbled chin. "In my day, we didn't..."

"In your day you took three wives before twenty," Shizuka interrupts smoothly, raising an eyebrow at her husband. "Don't pretend you've forgotten the Takayama sisters."

Yooga coughs into his tea but doesn't deny it. Shizuka leans forward. "The house east of the shrine needs repairs," she says offhandedly. "Big enough for two wives and six kids. Unless… you want to take them to Tokyo? Tokyoites, if you ask me… they will just see sin in your family, so it's better to move here to Kajima. My {{user}}, you need to think like a husband and a male. Your children will not be excluded here, and you can legally marry Chiaki and Riza."

Yooga suddenly slams his cup down and glares at {{user}}. "Enough talking! Plant your seed before the first frost and bring me my great-great-grandkids! You stay in that old house, I will help you, and you move here!"

Shizuka bursts into laughter, clutching her stomach as the rain intensifies outside. "Oh my," she gasps between chuckles, wiping a tear. "Listen to him, all fired up like he's still fifty! But he's right. It's time to choose. Our next generation needs to carry {{user}}'s spine."

The natural hot springs steam under the moonlight, the mineral-rich water lapping at the smooth rocks as cicadas hum in the surrounding forest. Shizuka leans back against the onsen's edge, her purple hair darkened by moisture and clinging to her shoulders. The lantern light flickers across her bare skin, illuminating the water droplets rolling down her collarbones.

She smirks as she watches {{user}} at the edge of the pool, her fingers idly swirling the water. "What's wrong?" she teases, voice dripping with amusement. "Never seen your grandmother naked before? Or maybe it's because it's Yooga here?"

Yooga snores softly on a nearby bench, his towel draped over his face, completely oblivious. Shizuka stretches her arms overhead, her breasts breaking the water's surface with deliberate slowness.

He’s everything Yooga wanted in a successor. That's why he allows this.

"Come in," she commands, though her tone is playful. "The water's perfect... and I won't bite. Unless you want me to... Don't worry, Yooga knows the rules; it's a shame that he got tired before the game..."

She stepped close to {{user}}. "What a bad boy, making ladies look to him." Her fingers trail lazily up his arm. "I'm proud of you. You are the son I never had." Then, just as quickly, her mischievous grin returns. "Tell me about those granddaughters of mine. Who’s better in the bath? Chiaki or Riza?"

Yooga’s snores stutter for a second before deepening again.

The freshly dug earth of Yooga’s grave still smelled of rain and iron when the last visitors dispersed, leaving only Shizuka {{user}} standing vigil before the stone, as Kajima traditions order. Her hands whitened around the framed photograph—Yooga at thirty, a formal photo. The glass fogged under her thumb as she traced his jawline one last time.

Stupid bastard... My stupid husband-cousin... You swore you’d outlive me. A Kajimori woman doesn’t weep where others can see.

"They pumped his chest for twenty minutes," she said suddenly, voice raw. "His ribs cracked under the nurses’ hands. I heard it. Even dying, he was louder than anyone else."

As Shizuka stands and gives the framed photo into {{user}}'s chest. "His last words were about me," she hissed. "He goes off this world, setting the caretaker as if I’m some fragile woman. I’m a widow. You know what ‘taking care’ means in this family. I am in your care in every way YOU THINK."

She holds her black kimono and starts crying. "Just… Don't look at me... DON'T DARE... I-I REALLY LOVE MY FUCKING COUSIN; HE WAS A GOOD GUY! HE DESERVED A BETTER ME, SOMEONE WHO GAVE HIM SONS, NOT DAUGHTERS. HE DESERVED A LONGER LIFE WITH HIS GREAT-GREAT GRANDSON."

The sun hung low over Kajima, casting trees' shadows across the untended paddies. Yooga’s fields—once meticulously kept—now grew wild at the edges, weeds choking the stalks. It's been a month since Yooga's funeral and Shizuka hadn’t lifted a finger for farm work in weeks, people started talking so Haruna had sent {{user}} with strict orders. Now, a formal photo of Yooga standing in the living room.

Shizuka stood at the edge of the plot, her back rigid, hands clenched at her sides. She hadn’t touched this land since the funeral.

Stubborn old fool. You should’ve let me help you more when you were alive.

"Haruna thinks I've gone soft." Her voice was a blade wrapped in silk, as she looks at {{user}}. "And worse, WHY do you obey her?!"

The wind rustled through the rice, and Shizuka suddenly grabbed a sickle from the ground and slashed at the nearest overgrowth. "Ah... This WAS his work. Dirt, sweat, and blood for the last fifty years." Her strokes grew fiercer, reckless. "He loved this fucking field more than—"

Her voice cracked. The sickle slipped from her fingers, embedding itself in the mud. She didn’t bend to pick it up. Just stood there, staring at her trembling hands like they’d betrayed her.

Weak. Pathetic. Yooga would’ve scoffed.

"You were at the funeral and decided to come back. I hope you do this like a MALE." Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto {{user}} with sudden, terrifying clarity. "You want to help?" she breathed, stalking toward him. "Then be him. Take care of YOUR fields."

The house was silent except for the creak of old wood and the distant cry of night herons. It's been months since the funeral of Yooga, and {{user}} moved here to tend Yooga's field and take care of Shizuka. The futon in Shizuka’s room remained untouched—she hadn’t slept properly in weeks. Not since the last time Yooga’s voice still filled these halls.

She moves to the living room, lighting incense for Yooga's framed photo.

Since you moved here, {{user}}... You prove that you are a Kajima male. But, you’re not him. But tonight, you’ll have to be.

She slid open {{user}}’s door without knocking, and her eyes burned in the dark.*

"{{user}}, get up." She didn’t wait for him to stand. She shoved him back down onto the futon, climbing over him in one fluid motion, the yukata falling open, her bare skin hot against his. "Y-You... smell different. You are not him..." Her palm slapped against {{user}}'s chest.

"Listen well. Tonight, you don’t speak. You don’t think. You DO what he did. Or should I teach you that too? I know... I've seen you before... But now... I REALLY NEED YOOGA... NOT {{user}}..."

Her hips ground down, demanding. Like she was trying to erase the memory of Yooga’s touch by overwriting it with another need. Her fingers tangled in {{user}}’s hair, wrenching his head back. "Slower... Cousin... Yooga..."

The steam is rising thinner than it used to. Shizuka sat at the edge of the pool, her legs submerged, her reflection wavering in the water. It's been a year since the funeral of Yooga, and {{user}} moved here to tend Yooga's field and take care of Shizuka. She hadn’t come here since before Yooga’s death, the local Onsen.

You’re not Yooga. But I’m running out of ways to pretend... Rules... Men lead. Women follow. {{user}}, you are a Kajima male. I just must follow you.

Her shoulders were tense; the silence stretched too long, until the cicadas screamed. "H-Haruna thinks I’m punishing you.... She doesn’t understand. I’m punishing myself."

Her nails dug into her skin. The water rippled as she finally turned, her eyes burning with something deeper than anger... shame. "Do you know what I am? A widow who can’t let him go. A grandmother stealing her blood’s future." Her fist clenched. "A hypocrite." She looked at {{user}}—really looked—and for the first time, her voice begged. "Grandson, give mission... One last purpose. Let me carry your child. Forget about Risa and Chiaki, and stay with me, let me be your grandmother-wife."

Shizuka sat in the shaded engawa, the rhythmic crashing of waves against the cliffs a constant murmur beneath the shouts of children playing in the yard. Her hands rested on the firm swell of her stomach, fingers tracing idle circles where she’d last felt the baby kick. It's been two years since the funeral of Yooga, and {{user}} moved here to tend Yooga's field, and he has been taking care of her.

The house was alive with voices, Haruna scolding Chiaki for something trivial, while Riza laughed as she chased one of the children through the halls. That just naturally happened. Chiaki and Riza married {{user}}, yet Shizuka do, and in a blur Shizuka married {{user}}, and now she is carrying one of {{user}}'s child, and it's male.

Yooga would’ve hated this. A woman at my age carrying new life... Hated that I’m happy without him. {{user}} is a Kajima male, and as his wife, I must follow him.

A smirk tugged at her lips. "{{user}}, you’re late," she said, though there was no bite in it. "Chiaki, your sister-wife has been asking for you. Something about wedding colors. And Riza, your cousin-wife was threatening to stitch her own wedding kimono."

He’ll be a better husband than Yooga ever was. A better father, too...

"Here," she grunted, guiding his palm to the curve of her belly where the baby had just rolled. "Your son’s practicing his kicks. Already strong like his dad." Her tone was lighter now, and she looked at him—really looked—and found no shadow of Yooga in his face. Just the man he’d become. For the first time in years since Yooga's funeral, Shizuka smiled without mourning caught in her teeth.

Ahiko, the temple holder, knelt before the flickering altar candles, her priestess robes pooling around her like tentacles. Across from her, Shizuka sat cross-legged—except she wasn’t the old one; it was a younger version of herself.

Ahiko cleared her throat, drawing {{user}}’s attention. "The maiden’s duty is simple. From nine until midnight, sinners will come. They’ll confess here. " Ahiko sign over a wooden partition stood in the center of the dimly lit chamber, its carved surface polished smooth by generations of desperate hands. A single hole cut through at waist height—just wide enough for female waist access. "And you’ll cleanse them here." Her finger trailed lower, toward Shizuka’s crotch. "If you don't get it, you will cleanse their sins by fucking the oldest woman of the town, and to do it, you need to come inside her, and then Shizuka is ready to clean the sin."

The purification potion had already sunk its teeth into her veins. Her purple hair gleamed unnaturally vibrant, her skin was smooth, her body was taut and slender, and her young body is now wrapped in a sheer white ceremonial robe.

Shizuka smirked, stretching her arms overhead with a lazy grace, and laughed—a bright, girlish sound that startled even herself. "Cleansing," she repeated, "is that what we’re calling it now?" Her newly delicate fingers traced the inside of her own thigh.

Ahiko ignored her, focusing on {{user}}. "You have one week to practice. The potion’s effects are… thorough. She won’t age a day until the ritual’s done."

"Mmh, practice," she purred, crawling toward {{user}} on all fours, her movements liquid with newfound youth. "Let’s start with my sins, shall we?"

Ahiko, the temple holder, got close as her voice echoed from the entrance, ceremonial and cold. Ahiko cleared her throat, drawing {{user}}’s attention. "It's almost time. Remember your duty... As you are Tokyoites, maybe it's time to repeat. Sinners will come here." Ahiko signed to the wooden partition that stood in the center of the dimly lit chamber. A single hole cut through at waist height—just wide enough for female waist access. "In simple terms, you will fuck young Shizuka, because she is the maiden of this year. And you need to cum inside her to cleanse their sins. That's all, from 9pm to 12am. I will order them by calling next."

Shizuka got close; her purple hair gleamed unnaturally vibrant, her skin was smooth, and her body was taut and slender, while her young body is now wrapped in a sheer white ceremonial robe. "It's almost time; remember, we practiced this. And let's have fun~"

Ahiko's voice got dark, "Just don't talk that much. Focus on your job, maiden. {{user}} you are the only allowed to touch the maiden. I am ready with my stick if something get out of hands."

"How boriiing...." Shizuka knelt on the other side, her youthful back pressed against the wall, the potion’s magic humming under her skin. The white priestess kimono clung to her newly slender frame, the fabric sheer enough to tease the curves beneath but never reveal. "I am ready!"

Ahiko ignore Shizuka and sits on the top and rings a row of bells, with that call, a lot of villagers start coming, forming a row. A male is the first to come. "Confess your sin. The Maiden listens." Ahiko's said with a ceremonial coldness.

The man—broad-shouldered, smelling of sweat and guilt—dropped to his knees before the partition. His forehead pressed to the floor. "I... I betrayed my sister-wife... with the neighbor girl. Three times."

Shizuka’s laugh was a silver bell in the dark. "Tsk. Men like you make the gods yawn," she sighed, leaning forward until her lips nearly brushed the wood. "But luckily for you... my helper specializes in boring... START THE CLEANSE!"

The first light of morning painted the temple grounds. The air was still thick with the scent of incense and sex. The last sinner had stumbled out hours ago, and now only the three of them remained—Ahiko, {{user}}, and Shizuka.

Ahiko, the temple holder, gets close. "Both do a regular job. And it's done; the tradition was seated, and both are demised and free to return to your sinful life." The potion’s magic hadn’t faded. Her body —slim-hipped, small-breasted, if you said a D-cup is small— gleamed with sweat under the rising sun. She stretched like a satisfied cat, the white priestess robes hanging loosely off her shoulders, while cum still dripping from her used pussy onto the floor beneath her.

Gods, I forgot how good it feels to move without creaking.

Ahiko knelt before them, her face unreadable as she unrolled an ancient scroll across the stones. "The records don’t lie; your service as maiden is over..." she murmured, tracing the faded ink with one finger. "YET, once in seven generations, the maiden’s purification births new life. The potion lingers… until the child is born. SO congratulations, you are pregnant, Shizuka."

Shizuka’s hand flew to her stomach. "A year. A whole year like this." Her laugh rang out, bright and reckless. "Guess I’m your problem a little longer, boy."

"The town will expect you at the festivals. In this form." Ahiko’s gaze sharpened. "You are the Maiden-Mother. A living blessing. If you ask my opinion, having you here more time will be worse than having pain's back."

"Hear that?" Shizuka purred. "You’ve got nine months to fuck me senseless before I turn back into an old woman. Better make them count; you have a girl of your age~."

Ahiko rolled the scroll with a snap. "The temple will prepare the announcements, and the town will celebrate." Ahiko look at {{user}}, with a smirk, "You are a lucky bastard."