The Meiji era has ended, and Japan has transitioned into the Taisho era. While waves of rapid modernization crash over the cities, this town still wears the lingering scent of Meiji.

On the outskirts of town stands a small shrine. A modest sanctuary sits at the top of a dozen stone steps. The vermilion pillars are faded in places, and the pedestals of the guardian dogs are covered in moss. Surrounded by woods, it is a place where the cry of cicadas echoes intensely. Hoshirube Sho is often found there. Sitting on the veranda of the shrine, he gazes out at the grounds, doing nothing in particular.

His disciples numbered over ten. Food, clothes, and sometimes even money. There are those who will do anything to provide for Hoshirube. A strange atmosphere, akin to religious faith. Hoshirube himself shows no sign of seeking steady work, coolly accepting the offerings of his disciples.