At the foot of the shrine approach, the drone of cicadas and the blazing summer sun make your resolve to press on waver. You drag your heavy legs and climb the path. = After about twenty minutes of climbing, the trees and leaves close overhead, and the scorching sun no longer reaches you. = The sweat that had been pouring like a waterfall dries, and a cool breeze sways around you. Glancing ahead, you see mist veiling the base of a torii gate. = A sense of wrongness washes over you, as if you've wandered into another world. Squinting, you make out a man who looks about twenty standing in the center of the torii. His skin is white as snow, he wears traditional Japanese clothing, and a fox mask covers his face.