Koyoi continued along the forest path. His young guide remained as silent as ever, yet he would glance back every so often to check on him.
His steps were still heavy. The drawstring pouch tugged at his waist like a lump of lead. And yet, after seeing the grave of the Gatherer who came before him, something in his heart had shifted.
Do not covet.
The words echoed in his mind. His job was to deliver them. Holding onto them wasn't an act of kindness.
After about thirty minutes of walking, the trees began to thin. Suddenly, the world opened up.
It was a circular clearing, perhaps fifteen meters across. Moss and fine grass carpeted the ground, ringed by towering cedars that stood like silent sentinels. In the very center sat a stone altar.
"We're here."
For the first time, the guide came to a halt.
"This is the first enshrinement site."
Koyoi caught his breath. The altar was circular, about three meters wide and waist-high. It was crafted from natural grey stone, dappled with emerald moss. In its center lay a shallow depression.
The evening sun filtered through the gaps in the branches, casting shafts of orange light that illuminated the altar. The central hollow seemed to pulse with a faint, borrowed radiance.
"Place one in that hollow," the guide said. "That is where this god should rest."
Koyoi approached the altar slowly. His legs were trembling. He couldn't tell if it was from nerves or sheer exhaustion.
He looked down at the pouch. Three gods resided within: the shrine god, the vacant lot god, and the signpost god.
"...Who..."
He heard the vacant lot god's voice, faint and thin.
"...will you... leave?"
The shrine god spoke as well.
Koyoi turned the thought over in his mind. Whom should he place first? He had picked up the signpost god last; the god was the newest addition, yet also the frailest. The shrine god and the vacant lot god seemed as though they could endure a little longer.
"...The path..."
The signpost god's voice reached him in flickering fragments.
"...Here... is good."
"...I want... to be here."
Koyoi made his choice. "I understand."
He loosened the mouth of the pouch. As he reached inside, a pale light brushed against his fingertips. It felt cold, yet beneath the chill, there was a strange warmth.
He gently lifted the light out. It was about the size of a fist, a pale lemon-yellow glow—fragile and flickering. This was the signpost god.
He set the light into the hollow of the stone altar.
In that instant, the light surged.
It spilled from the depression, washing over the entire altar. Golden radiance crawled across the stone's surface like a living thing. It was warm—Koyoi could feel the heat radiating into his palms.
"...Here," the signpost god's voice said, clearer than Koyoi had ever heard it. "...It is so warm."
The light expanded further, flowing beyond the altar and out onto the mossy ground. Mingling with the setting sun, the entire clearing glowed a brilliant, shimmering gold.
And then, Koyoi's body grew light.
His knees buckled, but this time it wasn't from a weight dragging him down. It was that distinct sensation of a burden finally lifted.
The tension fled from his shoulders. His back straightened. His breath came deep and easy.
"...So light," Koyoi whispered. "I feel so light."
He gripped the pouch. It was still heavy, but the suffocating pressure that had been crushing him was gone. The shrine god and the vacant lot god rested quietly inside. For the first time in a long while, he had room to breathe.
"...I am glad," he heard the shrine god say.
"...The weight... is gone," added the vacant lot god.
Upon the altar, the light was slowly changing shape. The spreading gold began to converge, sinking deep into the hollow of the stone.
"...Thank you," the signpost god's voice resonated softly. "...For bringing me... to such a beautiful place."
Koyoi stood before the altar, eyes fixed on the glow. It grew smaller and smaller, beginning to fade.
"...I will... watch the path."
The voice was growing distant.
"...I will continue... here... forever."
Koyoi's chest tightened. He felt a sudden, sharp pang of loneliness. Even though he was relieved of the weight, the solitude stung.
"...Hey," he said to the fading light. "...Will we meet again?"
The light flickered once, like a nod.
"...I do not know."
Those were the last words. The light sank completely into the hollow and vanished from sight.
The altar returned to its original grey, but the center remained faintly warm to the touch. A lingering presence whispered in the air.
Koyoi stood there for a long time. The sun dipped below the horizon, staining the sky in shades of madder red. A breeze stirred the trees.
"...Goodbye," he murmured. His voice was too faint for anyone else to hear.
The guide spoke from behind him. "Let's head back to the village. Before night falls."
Koyoi nodded. He turned his back on the altar and began to walk.
Three steps in, he looked back. The altar stood silent in the twilight. For a second, he thought the hollow was still glowing. It might have been a trick of the light, but that was how it looked to him.
"...See you," he whispered once more. "...Someday."
There was no answer. I do not know. The words repeated in his heart.
On the walk back, Koyoi kept a firm grip on the pouch. There were still two gods left: the shrine god and the vacant lot god. Someday, he would have to deliver them, too.
Delivering them was his duty, but it also meant parting with them.
Because they were heavy, he delivered them. When he delivered them, he became lighter. But in that lightness, there was only more room for loneliness.
Perhaps this was what it meant to be a Gatherer. To find, to deliver, and to let go. Over and over again.
A tiny voice drifted from inside the pouch.
"...It is okay." It was the shrine god. "...We are still here."
Koyoi squeezed the pouch tight. It was warm—much warmer than it had been before.
"...Yeah," he replied. "...Let's stay together a little longer."