Once they descended the steep stone steps of Kasumidai, the path curved as if drawn into the plaza.
Grass peeked through the seams of the paving stones, but all color had been drained from it. Gray-white stalks clung to the ground; when stepped on, they crunched like dry fiber. Low stone walls lined both sides of the road, and the lanterns lay where they had fallen, snapped in two. It wasn't that someone had broken them—they had simply stood here for so long that their supports had finally crumbled away.
Koyoi followed behind Asahi as they entered the plaza.
The moment they stepped inside, the air shifted.
Rows of stalls lined the space. Banners fluttered despite the lack of wind, and thin, steam-like wisps drifted upward. But as they drew closer, it became clear that it wasn't steam at all. They were shards of information, leaking through the seams of the Laws.
The shadows standing behind the stalls had no faces. The harder one tried to focus on them, the more their outlines blurred, turning faint as if retreating from sight.
“It’s... here, yet it isn’t,” Asahi said in a low voice.
Kuon lit his artificial eye, scanning the surface of the plaza. As the pale blue light brushed over the paving stones, ash scattered for a fleeting moment before settling back down to hide everything once more.
In the center of the plaza sat a low well. Countless handprints were etched into the rim of the blackened stone. Large hands, small hands. There were even marks smaller than Koyoi’s own.
Without thinking, Koyoi nearly reached out to lay her hand over one of them.
Inside her pouch, the droplet trembled with a cold vibration. Don’t touch it. Feeling as though she had been warned, Koyoi pulled her fingers back.
Circular engravings lined the rim of the well, but the final one had broken off. From that gap, a chill breathed out at steady intervals. The cross-section of the break was sharp—as if it had been bitten clean off.
“The core isn’t fixed,” Kuon muttered. “That’s why it’s chipping away.”
A weight like a leaden stone settled in Koyoi’s chest. If the center was unstable, the ground beneath them would never truly be still.
Kuon stepped back from the rim and held his Register at chest height. The blue light from his eye stretched down into the depths of the well. The light did not reflect; it was simply swallowed by the darkness. Coordinates flickered on the pages. The values jumped wildly, refusing to converge on a conclusion.
Asahi clicked his tongue. “...You’re telling me this is the center? The Laws are feeding us a lie.”
The hilt in his grip groaned as the metal let out a faint creak. Asahi wasn’t looking at the well; his gaze was fixed on the shadows of the surrounding buildings. The shadows stretched and shrank unnaturally, and the very outline of the plaza seemed to waver.
Koyoi took a step toward the well. The chill crawled up from her ankles. The droplet pulsed, a collision of cold and warmth echoing through her body.
“I don’t care if it’s a lie,” Koyoi said. “We just have to draw the true ‘Name’ up from the bottom.”
Kuon snapped at once. “Don’t call it. The moment you speak its Name, we’ll be the ones consumed first.”
It was his second warning. She had heard it last night as well. The fact that he felt the need to repeat it was proof that Kuon himself was teetering on the edge of the forbidden line.
Koyoi pressed her lips together.
She wouldn’t call it. But she would take it back. She would find a way to do both at the bottom of this well.
The wind died down. The banners hung limp, and the shadows of the stalls receded. The shadows of the three of them overlapped on the stone floor, merging into a single shape. Faint as it was, it still undeniably existed.
A faint breeze blew up from the depths of the well, ruffling Koyoi’s bangs.
It wasn’t cold. It carried a lingering, familiar warmth.
It felt like the final breath exhaled by something that possessed no Name.