A red-headed shinigami emerged from the mists, steering a battered boat. Mokou waved at her, and received a cheerful wave in kind.
"Would you like to visit Higan one day?" Eirin asked.
Mokou meant to nod, but shook her head instead. "Better not risk it. Don't want to taint pure lands."
"A mere visit from a Hourai individual isn't enough to corrupt a true Pure Land."
Mokou kept shaking her head regardless, but she couldn't help curling up her lips. When exactly had Eirin begun to refer to her with the same term she used for Kaguya and herself?
It was nice to belong.
Perhaps she could have visited. She could walked amidst the flowers and ghosts waiting for judgement, and chatted up the workers of the Ministry of Right and Wrong. The thought was pleasant. The thought of acting upon it less so.
"It's not our place," she concluded, turning away from the river. "Let's go eat. Kaguya's probably waiting."
Eirin followed her back to the confines of their corrupt principality. The land of immortals.