The valley stretched out before them.
The bottom was invisible, swallowed by a thick white fog that blanketed the entire ravine.
"Do we have to cross this?" Koyoi stood at the edge of the precipice and asked the air.
"Yes," the Shrine Deity answered.
"The Nameless Valley," added the Deity of the Clearing.
The Nameless Valley. That was what the Village Head had called it. Or rather, he had said it was a place where names did not exist.
"Names dissolve here," the Shrine Deity warned in a low voice.
"Dissolve?"
"The power of the boundary is concentrated here," the Deity of the Clearing explained. "Names become blurred."
Koyoi looked down into the depths. The mist swirled slowly, bubbling up from the bottom. A cold wind brushed his cheek.
"I guess we have no choice but to go."
"Yes."
"Be careful."
Koyoi took a step forward. A narrow trail wound down the slope of the valley. The footing was treacherous; the earth felt damp and slick beneath his feet.
◇
Some time passed. The fog grew thicker. Earlier, he could see twenty meters ahead; now, his vision was limited to barely ten. The silhouettes of the trees were blurred, and the sound of his own footsteps seemed unnaturally loud.
"It’s so quiet," Koyoi whispered, almost to himself.
There was no birdsong. No chirp of insects. Only the heavy, still mist.
"Sound is swallowed here," the Shrine Deity said.
"Nothing echoes."
Koyoi stopped and looked around. He was no longer sure which direction he had come from. Above, the sky was completely obscured by the white veil. His sense of direction was failing.
"It’s okay," he told himself. "I just need to keep heading down. Go down, then cross over."
He started walking again.
◇
His head began to feel heavy, his thoughts growing hazy. He knew he was descending, but something felt wrong.
His name... what was his name?
"Ko..."
He tried to speak it aloud, but the word wouldn't come.
"Ko... yo..."
His tongue felt tangled. He knew this name—it was his own—but he couldn't force it out. Something caught in the back of his throat.
"What is this?" His voice trembled.
"Do not name yourself!" the Shrine Deity commanded.
"What?"
"You must not give your name," the Deity of the Clearing added.
Don't give my name? My own name?
"Why?" Koyoi asked.
"If you speak your name here..." The Shrine Deity’s voice dropped. "It will be Recorded."
Recorded.
The word sent a chill down Koyoi’s spine. He thought of Shiori-san. She, too, had kept records, capturing the world in her notebook. But her records were warm, meant to ensure things weren't forgotten.
In contrast, the "Record" of the Observers was a means of capture. A way to keep things from escaping or changing. The same word, but the meaning was worlds apart.
The Observers. Those who record. Those who measure.
To speak his name was to be Recorded. To be fixed in place.
"That is why names dissolve," the Deity of the Clearing said. "The valley is protecting you."
By blurring names, the valley allowed travelers to slip through the cracks of the Records. That was why it was the Nameless Valley.
Koyoi exhaled slowly. The haze in his head and the silence in his throat were the valley’s protection. It was frightening, but it wasn't the enemy.
"I understand," Koyoi nodded. "I won't say it."
◇
He descended further. The fog grew even denser. Visibility was now less than five meters; if he stretched out his arm, his own fingertips looked blurry. It was a white, silent world.
He felt himself slipping away. Not just his name, but where he came from and what he was doing—it all became ambiguous.
"I am—"
He caught himself. He wanted to confirm his existence, or he might simply dissolve into the white.
"The pouch."
Koyoi gripped the drawstring pouch at his chest. It was cold, but it was there.
"I'm here. I am right here."
"You are," the Shrine Deity answered.
"We are with you," the Deity of the Clearing said.
Their voices anchored him. Even without a name, he existed. As long as he could hear them, he wouldn't disappear.
"Thank you," Koyoi rasped.
"Just a little further," the Shrine Deity whispered. "The exit is just ahead."
Once he crossed the floor of the valley, there would be an exit. Koyoi walked on, one step at a time, through the mist. Even if he forgot his name, his legs still moved. As long as they were with him, he could keep going.
◇
He didn't know how long he had been walking. His sense of time had dissolved along with everything else. He simply kept descending toward the bottom of the valley.
Eventually, the mist thinned slightly. His vision expanded to maybe six meters.
"Almost there," the Deity of the Clearing said.
Then, a shadow appeared ahead of him. A human shape, standing perfectly still.
Koyoi froze. An Observer?
He couldn't make a sound. He mustn't give himself away.
The shadow moved and turned toward him. He couldn't see a face through the fog, but someone was definitely there.
"Who are you?"
A man's low voice echoed through the silence. Koyoi couldn't answer. He mustn't.
"Answer me."
The shadow took a step closer. "What are you doing here?"
The pouch at Koyoi's chest turned ice-cold. The deities within were trembling.
"Do not give your name," the Shrine Deity breathed.
Koyoi bit his lip. He couldn't answer, but he couldn't run.
The shadow took another step. They were now less than three meters apart.
"I will ask one last time. Who are you?"
The mist swirled. In the white world, two existences faced each other. Koyoi gripped the pouch tight. He couldn't say his name, but he was here. That much was certain.
You must not give your name here.