Story:

"No."

The word fell like a blade.

Chitose stood at the head of the table, face carved from the same stone as her broken gate, and her silence broke into a verdict.

"No. We are not evacuating."

"Chitose-sama—" Shiro started, tears still wet.

"The Yamato Shrine is the remaining light in the dark for all of Yamato," Chitose said, and her voice carried to every corner of the hall, over every breath.

"When the realm shattered into warring provinces, this mountain still stood for the whole land. When the Black Rose crawled east for years, this mountain still stood. When the Vampire Lord broke our gate, this mountain—broken—still stood."

"That is not a tradition of ours. It is our function. We are the light. And a light does not abandon its post because darkness has made an appointment."

She looked around the hall—miko by miko, face by face.

"If we teleport away today, we will be safe at the back, in warm rooms, and the demon army will pour through this undefended province of Yamato like a tide through a broken dike—"

"And every village behind us, every road, every province, every soul that trusted this mountain to hold, will learn that the shrine's light ran. And ten thousand demons will know this land's holiest ground answers fear with absence. No."

Her jaw set. "We cannot abandon our role when facing darkness. That is the whole of the role."

"Then your role is a graveyard," Nobunaga said bluntly.

The hall froze again.

The Demon King of the Sixth Heaven stepped forward, arms crossed, and did not soften one word.

Chitose did not want to argue with Nobunaga. It was in every line of her—she had no more argument left for outsiders; her strength was budgeted for other things.

"You are free to leave," she said simply. "All of you. The tunnel sounds like a wise idea—for the ones who don't belong to this mountain. Take Murasame with you; she should heal somewhere with a roof that stays on. The Taimanin owe the shrine nothing. Neither do the Oda."