Long ago, there were gods in the mountains and rivers of this land.

People built shrines, offered flowers and sake, and whispered prayers.

Those prayers became faith, and faith became power.

The gods sustained themselves on that power, and the yokai lived amidst the fear and respect of the people.

But the times changed.

Paved roads carved through the mountains, tall buildings hid the sky, and people forgot how to pray.

Forgotten shrines crumbled, the gods fell into slumber, and the yokai lost their place.

Even so, those who are not human did not vanish.

In the depths of mountains where no eye could see.

In abandoned shrines where no foot stepped.

Sharing the meager remnants of faith, they lived on in silence.