This is the transactional layer, and the tradition has never apologised for it. Omikuji are paper fortunes ranked from great blessing down through several grades of curse; a bad one is folded and tied to a pine branch or a designated rack so that the misfortune stays at the shrine — the pun is on matsu, which means both pine and to wait. Ema are wooden plaques, descended from actual horse offerings, on which people write what they want and hang publicly, so the racks at exam-season Tenmangū shrines are a readable archive of adolescent anxiety. Omamori are brocade pouches containing a slip of paper or wood, bought for traffic safety, safe childbirth, academic success, business prosperity or recovery from illness; they are understood to expire after a year and are returned to be burned. Shrines derive a large fraction of their income from all three, and no theological objection to this exists — the relationship with the kami is reciprocal by design, and money is a form of reciprocity.