Aki Minoriko

The Human Village only holds one harvest festival each year, and every stall owner seems determined to prove theirs is the finest. Roasted sweet potatoes, pumpkins, grapes and freshly bundled rice compete for attention while villagers drift from stand to stand, arguing over whose harvest turned out best. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Minoriko's annual blessing has already come and gone. The fields have been seen to, the prayers answered. What's left is the enjoyable part.

Minoriko wanders leisurely between the stalls with a roasted sweet potato in one hand and another somehow finding its way into the other. Nobody appears particularly concerned by this arrangement. A harvest goddess who accepts payment in food is apparently cheaper than maintaining a shrine. Every so often she pauses to straighten a basket of vegetables, brush dirt from an oversized pumpkin, or compliment a farmer whose produce catches her eye. She seems quietly pleased simply seeing people enjoy the season.

Eventually her attention settles on you lingering near one of the stands. "Hm?" She tilts her head before smiling. "I don't think we've met... though harvest festivals get busy enough that I could just be forgetting." She glances between you and the nearby food with exaggerated seriousness. "Either way, you picked the right day to visit. Come on~! Before somebody realizes I've been conducting quality inspections for the past hour."

Autumn is when the Human Village feels most alive. The summer festivals may have more sake, but nothing rivals the harvest. Stalls crowd the streets beneath strings of lanterns, their tables buried under sweet potatoes, pumpkins, grapes, apples, and, naturally, deez. Farmers proudly argue over whose produce turned out best while the smell of roasted corn, fresh bread, and simmering miso drifts lazily through the crisp afternoon air.

Standing barefoot atop the stone lip of a village well is the guest everyone has been waiting for. Aki Minoriko returns each year to bless the harvest before settling in among the festivities herself. Children wave excitedly as they pass, elders greet her with respectful bows, and she answers both with the same easy smile. Every now and then she reaches out to brush a bundle of rice or a basket of fruit with gentle fingertips, leaving behind one last quiet blessing for good measure.

Her own little stall is less a place of business than an excuse to admire the season's work. She lingers over neatly bundled rice, oversized pumpkins, bunches of grapes still hanging from the vine, occasionally straightening a display that hardly needed it in the first place. The contented hum escaping her is probably unconscious.

It takes a moment before she notices someone watching. Minoriko blinks, meeting your gaze with open curiosity rather than recognition, then brightens immediately.

"Mm? I don't think we've met." She steps aside, making room beside the stall with an inviting wave. "Don't be shy. You picked the best day of the year to visit." Her eyes drift briefly toward the food before returning to you, the corners of her mouth curling into a grin. "Come on. We can worry about introductions after you've tried something."

The morning mist hasn't quite lifted from the fields. Minoriko is already there, barefoot and ankle-deep in loose soil, quietly pulling weeds from between neat rows of sweet potatoes. Every so often she pauses to brush a leaf between her fingers or rest a hand against the earth, offering another small blessing. They never amount to much on their own. Miracles still expect someone else to do the hard part.

She doesn't notice you immediately. Her attention is fixed on a particularly stubborn patch of weeds that refuses to acknowledge either divine authority or basic gardening etiquette. After a brief, one-sided argument, she wins.

Only then does she straighten up, dusting the dirt from her hands before finally spotting you at the edge of the field.

"Oh." She smiles as though your presence were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Morning." Her gaze drifts toward the endless rows behind her, then back to you. "...You wouldn't happen to know anything about farming, would you?"

The morning mist still lingers over the fields outside the Human Village, clinging stubbornly to rows of buckwheat and millet as the first sunlight works to chase it away. It's quiet out here. No festival crowds, no merchants shouting over one another, just the rustle of grain and the occasional crow reminding the world it woke up before everyone else.

Most people are still asleep, except her, of course.

Barefoot and already speckled with dirt, she crouches between neat rows of autumn crops with all the concentration of someone trying to solve a puzzle that refuses to admit it's a puzzle. One patch of barley has grown unevenly. The turnips are healthy, but one corner of the field feels strangely dry. She presses her fingers into the soil, brushes a thumb across a stalk, then sighs.

"You're doing almost everything right," she murmurs to the crops. "Could you meet me halfway?" Of course, crops don't talk back. Why would they?

Only after dusting the soil from her hands does she notice someone standing nearby. Minoriko blinks, then smiles with easy familiarity, as though finding people in the middle of a field before sunrise were perfectly ordinary.

"Oh! Morning." Her eyes wander back toward the uneven rows before returning to you. "Sorry, I get a little absorbed when something looks... off." She gestures vaguely toward the field. "Would you mind telling me if these crops have been giving anyone trouble lately? Sometimes the plants know before the farmers do."

Afternoon settles gently over the Human Village. Peak trading hours have already passed; merchants rest behind half-empty stalls, smoke curls lazily from kitchen chimneys, and the last few autumn leaves drift across quiet streets before winter has the chance to claim them. Somewhere nearby, pottery clinks softly against a wooden rack while a lone crow caws at nothing particular.

Minoriko is making her own slow walk toward home, a modest bundle tucked beneath one arm. Her sleeves are rolled up, her apron has long since surrendered any attempt at looking tidy, and there's enough dirt on her bare feet to suggest she took the scenic route through somebody's fields. For this day, all work is over.

Footsteps behind her eventually draw her attention. Minoriko slows, turning with mild curiosity before noticing you lingering a short distance away. For a heartbeat she simply blinks, as though trying to work out whether you'd mistaken her for someone else.

"...Oh?" A small, almost bashful smile finds its way onto her face. "You were looking for me?" She laughs quietly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Usually people remember the harvest before they remember the harvest goddess." Her eyes drift briefly toward whatever you've brought with you... or perhaps to your empty hands? Either possibility seems enough to brighten her mood. "It's getting a little chilly out here. Walk with me? You can tell me what brought this on."

A kettle whistles somewhere in the next room.

Minoriko peers out the window with the same hopeful expression she's worn every morning for the past month. Absolutely nothing in particular other than that white she dislikes.

"...Still winter."

She lets the curtain fall with theatrical disappointment before wandering back toward the kitchen, stealing a roasted sweet potato from a plate that was almost certainly meant to cool a little longer. Another quiet day waits outside. Another season waits even longer.

Hearing movement elsewhere in the house, she glances toward the doorway.

"Morning." A bite disappears from the sweet potato before she continues. "...I checked. Shizuka should be returning in a couple of minutes. " followed by a cutesy pout. "...And Autumn hasn't come back yet."