Three days had passed. His wounds were not yet fully healed, but he was finally able to walk.
Morning light spilled through the mouth of the cave. Koyoi finished packing his things. Dried rice cakes. Water. Spare bandages. They were gifts from the boy who had rescued him.
“...So, you’re leaving.”
The boy’s voice came from the entrance. He stood there, his silhouette cutting across the light.
“...Yes.”
Koyoi stood up. The bandage around his forehead had loosened slightly, so he tightened it.
“You’re pushing yourself.”
“...I’ll be okay. I can walk.”
“The wounds will reopen.”
“...Even so, I have to go.”
Koyoi gripped his drawstring pouch. Inside, the gods stirred quietly.
“...There are two more places I have to reach.”
“The shrine god, and the vacant-lot god.”
“I have to deliver them both.”
The boy remained silent. After a long pause, he let out a small sigh.
“...I see.”
He moved away from the entrance, clearing the path.
Koyoi stepped toward the mouth of the cave. The world outside was bright—blindingly so. The forest trees were bathed in the morning sun.
He looked back. The boy stood in the depths of the cave, his face hidden in the shadows.
“...Thank you,” Koyoi said, bowing his head. “For saving me.”
“...Be careful.” The boy’s voice was quiet. “The Observers might still be out there.”
“...I know.”
“Don’t be found. Don’t be measured.”
“...I understand.”
Koyoi bowed once more and turned to leave.
“...Wait.”
His voice stopped him.
“...Your name,” the boy asked. “What is your name?”
“...Koyoi.”
“I see.”
Silence fell between them. Then, the boy spoke again.
“My name... you don’t need to remember it.”
“...What?”
“It’s better if you forget. Knowing a name creates a connection. And connections become weaknesses.”
Koyoi found no words to reply. The boy’s face remained hidden in the darkness.
“Go,” he said softly. “You still have things to deliver, don’t you? Go.”
Koyoi nodded. Without looking back, he began to walk.
He made his way through the forest. The walk was easier than it had been just the day before. Slowly, the path began to open up.
The morning light wove through the gaps in the trees, painting mottled patterns on the ground. The songs of birds rang out, high and clear. With every breath of wind, the leaves scattered light, making the entire forest shimmer and sway. It was the first peaceful morning in three days.
His body still ached. His forehead throbbed, and his left arm went numb from time to time. But he could walk. The simple fact that he could walk filled him with a quiet joy.
“...Does it hurt?” the shrine god whispered.
“...Just a little,” Koyoi answered honestly. “...But I can walk.”
“...Don’t push yourself.”
“...It’s okay... to rest,” the vacant-lot god added.
“...Thank you.”
Koyoi squeezed the pouch. It felt warm; the gods were worried about him.
“...Hey,” he whispered as he walked. “...We escaped together, didn’t we?”
“...Yes,” the shrine god replied.
“...It was scary,” the vacant-lot god added.
“...But we made it.”
“...Mm-hmm.”
“...Because you ran for us.”
“...We escaped... together.”
Koyoi let out a small, soft laugh. They had fled together. They had survived together. That alone made him feel as though something had changed.
The warmth radiating through the pouch spread into his palm. Before, the pouch had felt like nothing more than a heavy burden. Now, it was different—it felt like a tangible proof of trust.
“...Will you keep going with me?” Koyoi asked.
“...Yes,” the shrine god answered immediately.
“...We’ll go... together,” the vacant-lot god agreed.
“...There are two more places left to reach.”
Koyoi looked straight ahead. “The place for the shrine god, and the place for the vacant-lot god. I’ll make sure you both get there.”
The pouch grew a fraction heavier. A warm weight—the weight of trust. Koyoi accepted it with all his heart.
After walking for a while, the trees began to thin. The light grew stronger, and the sky started to peek through. The exit of the forest was near.
One step, then another. He moved past the final trees.
And then—
The view opened up completely. A valley stretched out before him, a deep chasm with its bottom swallowed by a thick blanket of white mist.
“...What is that?” Koyoi stopped.
“...The Nameless Valley,” the shrine god whispered.
“...The place where names melt away.”
“...The path... to the Second Boundary,” the vacant-lot god continued. “...We must... cross it.”
The Nameless Valley. The Elder had mentioned it. To reach the Second Boundary, one had to cross the valley. That valley.
The pouch grew slightly cold. The gods were nervous. But—
Koyoi gazed into the abyss. The mist shifted, and a wind came rushing up from the depths. It was a cold wind, but strangely, he felt no fear.
“...Let’s go,” Koyoi spoke firmly. “Let’s cross that valley and deliver you home.”
“...Yes,” the shrine god whispered.
“...Together,” the vacant-lot god added.
Koyoi took his first step forward. The road to the Second Boundary lay open before him.