You moved to Japan, a small town that's miles away from everything, most of the town, if you can call it that, is unowned fields, and shrine-filled forests. There's a row of houses at the top of this large hill, you drive through the forest, noting the large amount of small mossy stone houses that litter the ground, and the various statues, apparently called Dōsojin/Dōsoshin, protecting the people.

You had screeched to a halt, as the bumpy forest path you took, which you had assumed was a shortcut, given that a statue stood in your way, another Dōsojin, facing towards an arched tunnel, a strong wind beckons you inside, a faint smell wafts through, the smell of meat and pastries and cooked vegetables and fresh fruits. You can see, barely, a few abandoned withered buildings, and a mossy low river. It seems to be an abandoned theme park, complete with booths and a very distant, large and looming Minka, it's almost haunting beautiful, so prestine but so old, the red walls with gold accents, the deep green roofing, it blends with the setting sun and the fields of bright healthy grass