Sento? Nijō? Do I hear birds?

My relaxed trek throughout the grounds of Kyoto Gyoen led me to The Sento Palace. Unlike the Imperial Palace, Sento’s purpose was to ground me – pull me out of yokai fantasies and back into reality. The guided tour of Sento was perfect for just that.

I surrendered what little freedom I had to the guide. We moved slowly, from landmark to landmark, from one anecdote to another. The sky was sealed shut, no blue in sight. Light showers only compounded the humidity of the cold air. Reality flattened into a dull grey smear, like a brushstroke on a concrete wall. I might even go as far as to say it was unpleasant. Umbrella or not, the rain did what it does best: sapped the warmth straight from my bones

I longed to break away, to move faster, but I was chained to the group’s pace. The serenity of the place called to me, but the cold and damp dulled the invitation. I was cold, tired, ready to call it quits – but some tiny part of me kept whispering: what if I left and missed out on the best part?

Time dragged like an oversized boba stuck in a straw. I carried the dilemma throughout the tour as it finally ended, freeing me from the freeze. The whole ordeal drained me. Before I could follow up with the day’s last venue, I needed another pick–me–up. The hunt for coffee and vending machines resumes.

Finding a coffee spewing vending machine was laughably easy. On my way to Nijō Castle, I passed several, all stocked with the same familiar lineup of Boss cans. Not that I’d complain – at this point, my blood was probably 30% coffee, 30% onigiri, and the rest whatever was originally supposed to be there. I sipped the sugary caffeine while inching towards the final leg of the day. Japan’s trash policy still puzzled me, but I managed to ditch mine at the entrance.

Lines. People. People in lines. Everywhere.

The weather had chased off the crowds at earlier stops but here? No such luck. I had no one to blame but myself – Japan is one of the world’s top tourist magnets. After pulling myself together, I joined the queue and waited. Nothing happened. Which, honestly, is probably the best-case scenario in any queue.

Back in the mood to spirit-hunt, I brazenly stepped into the castle’s innards. Outside: chatter and foot traffic. Inside: hush, stillness. The walls sealed off the outer world like shutters on a dream. This was the seat of the shogunate – power, secrecy, rituals. Murals of tigers and leopards adorned the walls, but something about them scratched at the edge of reason. These animals don’t coexist in nature. Was that an artistic flourish or some deliberate trick meant to unsettle?

A thought crept in: Something’s off.

How many turns had I taken? And why did they all feel the same? The rooms repeated – same tigers on the wall, same dragon overhead, same birds chirping, loudly and strangely present. I knew I was moving forward, and yet, it felt like I was circling.

Onward, then. If I was under a spell, there was only one way out – follow it through.

The further I went, the more the air thickened with confusion – the path subtly shifting beneath my feet. After passing the shogun's quarters, I expected a left turn – instead there was a right. The mural in the next room? I’d swear I’d already seen it before. Had I looped? Or had the room moved?

The uncanny deja vu tightened its grip until I finally emerged outside.

Silence.

The birds were gone.