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A Man in Love with the Sea and the Ships that Sail
Miwa had ditched his shoes, the worn soles had come off a few miles back, so he had thrown them out in the trash can of a decrepit bus stop, one that hadn't seen a bus nor a passenger for many years. On top of losing his shoes, and somehow being able to accrue callouses and sores on his spirit feet, he was hungry, another concept that escaped reasoning, as he was, after all, dead. The path continued ever upwards through the mountains, towards what was hopefully some shrines. A glance over his shoulder revealed that the sky had begun to turn a shade of orange as the day came to a close. He picked up the pace. It wasn't safe for an unowned regalia to be out at night, he needed to be near a shrine, otherwise the phantoms would try to eat him alive. The bag of books weighed heavy against his back, but he wouldn't abandon it, to him, it was like carrying the holiest of holies. Sacred texts telling of bravery and heroism in the face of adversity. This was just a training journey for him, he'd be so much stronger when he went back to his hometown. He tried to keep the light thoughts coming, as to not attract phantoms.