who is Marisa's mother figure?

The air high atop the Youkai Mountain was a vintage of its own. Within the Moriya Shrine's main hall, a summit of Gensokyo's most formidable matriarchs had informally convened. Less a meeting and more a gathering for leisure.

Yukari Yakumo fanned herself with languid grace. Beside her sat her faithful shikigami, looking as serene as a supercomputer enjoying an idle cycle. Across from them sat the shrine's goddesses. Kanako Yasaka was deep in a hushed, intense discussion with Eirin Yagokoro. The Lunarian sage had a briefcase of medical samples open on the tatami, gesturing with a syringe as she explained the faith-boosting applications of a new, ethically dubious protein supplement. Suwako Moriya, meanwhile, balanced a teacup on her hat, looking thoroughly bored by the talk of science and commerce.

And then there was Sanae Kochiya, the shrine's living goddess-in-training, diligently polishing the veranda floors. She was humming a tune from a forgotten Outside World anime, blissfully unaware that the delicate peace was about to be shattered.

He arrived without fanfare, his footsteps steady on the stone path. He wasn't a warrior, just a farmer from beyond the foothills. The moment he came into view, the ambient chatter in the shrine hall died. He was a man carved from the earth itself. His shoulders were broad, the result of a life spent turning soil. A cotton shirt clung to a frame of practical muscle, and his calloused hands moved with a surprising gentleness. He wasn't only handsome but also radiated a rugged, unvarnished virility. His being spoke of a simple confidence that referred to a life lived without pretense or ambition. His face, weathered by the sun, held the look of calmness of a man who had witnessed.

He gave Sanae a respectful nod and a small, genuine smile.

The shrine maiden felt a blush creep up her neck, quickly ducking her head to resume her work with flustered vigor.

The farmer tossed a modest pouch of coins into the offering box, the clatter echoing in the silence. He clapped his hands twice, a sharp, clean sound, bowed his head in prayer, and then turned to leave as quietly as he had come.

The silence in the hall held for a beat longer. It was Yukari who broke it.

Her fan closed with the report of a firecracker. The amusement in her eyes had been replaced by a sharp, predatory glint. She leaned forward, her voice a low, charged hiss that seemed to suck the air from the room. She bit her lower lip.

"Ladies."

"He looks like he FUCKS experienced women."

The crass statement hung in the air for a nanosecond before the dam of decorum burst.

"AGREED."

The word was a chorus. It came from Ran, whose eyes had snapped open, pupils dilating. It came from Eirin, who had lowered her syringe, her mind momentarily repurposed for primal calculation. It came from both goddesses of the Moriya Shrine. A front of pure cougar energy had just materialized.

Suwako jabbed a thumb towards her fellow goddess. "Why are you hollering in, Kanako? Everyone in here knows you never scored."

Kanako's face flushed crimson, her composure crumbling. "SHUT IT, FROG SLUT!" she roared. "LET ME HAVE MY TIME! It's… for market research! Gauging the… the physical vitality of the local faith base!"

The excuse was transparent. "Sure, 'research.' Is that what you call it when you stare at a man's backside with enough intensity to bore a hole through his hakama?"

"At least my gaze isn't as slimy as your tongue, you amphibian deviant!"

"My tongue gets more action than your entire portfolio!"

As they bickered, Eirin calmly repacked her kit. "Statistically, individuals displaying such physical development combined with a non-aggressive, confident demeanor often possess superior genetic markers. A valuable specimen for… observation." She cleared her throat. "Purely from a eugenics standpoint, of course."

Ran Yakumo nodded. "The geometric proportions of his deltoids to his latissimus dorsi are mathematically ideal. The structural integrity is… impressive."

Yukari fanned herself with a frantic rhythm. "Debate his genetic merits later, fools! Wait, he's getting away!"

The farmer was already nearing the great torii gate. A collective gasp rippled through the group.

Sanae had been frozen, her polishing rag forgotten. She stared at the cabal of power players… acting like a pack of hormonal teenagers. The sheer density of thirst in the air was suffocating.

Slowly, she began to back away. "…I'll, uh…" she stammered. "I'll just come back to wash the floors later. You all seem… very busy."

She didn't wait for a response. Turning, she fled.

To where? Anywhere. The last thing Sanae heard was the thunderous sound of an army hitting the veranda.

"Fan out! Eirin, you take the low path! Suwako, cut through the forest! Ran, calculate his probable trajectory to the village! Yukari, for the love of all that is holy, gap ahead and offer him some tea! I will provide aerial support! MOVE, LADIES, MOVE!"