A shadow was watching. Beyond the veil of mist, a humanoid figure stood perfectly still, its gaze fixed on him.
“...Who are you?”
The question echoed once more. The voice was low. Authoritative. Yet... he felt no hostility.
Koyoi bit his lip. He couldn't give his name. He mustn't. If he spoke his name here, it would be recorded. It would be fixed.
The drawstring pouch felt as cold as ice. The gods within were trembling. But they didn't make a sound. They were holding their breath right along with Koyoi.
The silence stretched on. The mist drifted slowly by. Time felt unnaturally long, as if it had ground to a halt.
“...You will not name yourself, then?”
The shadow’s voice changed. The pressure had vanished.
Koyoi said nothing. He simply gripped the pouch tighter.
The shadow took a step back. The distance between them grew.
“...Those who bear no name may pass.”
Koyoi’s eyes widened at the words. Pass?
“...To name oneself is to be bound here,” the shadow continued flatly. “...Only those who pass through without a name can cross the valley.”
Finally, Koyoi understood. It had been a test. A test of whether or not he would reveal his name.
“...And you?” Koyoi asked softly. “...Who are you?”
“...I am the one who guards the threshold,” the shadow replied. “...I have no name. So long as I remain here, I cannot hold one.”
The Guardian of the Threshold. The Sentry of the Nameless Valley.
“...Go.”
The shadow stepped aside, clearing the path.
“...Once you cross the valley floor, you will find the exit.”
Koyoi bowed deeply. He didn't know what to say, but he wanted to convey his gratitude.
“...Thank you.”
The shadow said nothing. It slowly faded into the mist until, at last, it vanished completely.
◇
There was a small clearing at the bottom of the valley. Boulders were scattered about—ancient rocks clad in thick moss. The mist was thinner here; visibility extended to about ten meters.
Koyoi sank onto a rock. His legs were shaking. The tension was finally bleeding away.
“...That was scary.”
His voice was hoarse.
“...That was really, really scary.”
“...Yeah.”
The voice of the Shrine Deity came from within.
“...We were scared, too.”
The voice of the Vacant-Lot Deity added.
The pouch began to grow warm again. The gods were relieved as well.
Koyoi drank some water from a bamboo flask. The cold liquid soothed his parched throat. He was alive. He was still alive.
For a while, he just sat there. He regulated his breathing and steadied his heart. The mist flowed slowly. From somewhere in the distance, he could hear the sound of running water.
“...Hey,” Koyoi whispered to the pouch. “...What was the shrine like? Before?”
“...Eh?”
The Shrine Deity’s voice sounded bewildered.
“...Your old home. The shrine, before I found you.”
Koyoi leaned his back against the rock.
“...Can I ask about it?”
Silence. Then, the Shrine Deity spoke in a small voice.
“...You want to hear about the old days?”
“...Yeah. I want to know.”
Silence again. The pouch grew a little heavier. The shrine was reaching back into its memories.
“...A long time ago...” the Shrine Deity began slowly. “...Many people used to come.”
◇
“...Children running around,” the deity continued.
“...Old men leaving sake. Old women leaving rice.”
Koyoi closed his eyes. The deity’s words formed images in his mind.
A tiny shrine. A small structure nestled halfway up a mountain. There were stone steps, a roof, and a bell.
Children running about. The sound of laughter echoing. An old man pressing his hands together in prayer. A young person offering sake.
“...It was lively,” the Shrine Deity’s voice carried a certain warmth.
“...Every day, someone came for me. They said... thank you.”
“...Were you happy?” Koyoi asked.
“...Yes.”
The Shrine Deity’s voice trembled.
“...Very.”
◇
“...But,” the deity’s tone shifted. It grew colder, bit by bit.
“...Little by little, they stopped coming.”
Koyoi listened in silence.
“...From every day to every week. From every week to every month. From every month to every year.”
The Shrine Deity’s voice cut off. After a moment, it resumed.
“...The young people left the mountain. The village got smaller. The old men and the old women... they all went away.”
Koyoi felt a tightening in his chest. The depopulation of the countryside. The young leaving, the elderly passing away, the people vanishing. The mountain shrine was being forgotten.
“...The last person to come see me,” the deity’s voice was faint.
“...Was an old woman. She said, 'I can't come anymore.' She said, 'I'm sorry.'”
The Vacant-Lot Deity remained quiet. Koyoi, too, found himself unable to speak.
“...And then,” the Shrine Deity’s voice grew even smaller.
“...No one ever came back.”
◇
“...Were you lonely?” Koyoi asked gently.
“...Yes.”
The Shrine Deity’s voice.
“...Very.”
Silence. The mist drifted slowly. The distant sound of water was barely audible.
“...Every day, I waited.”
The Shrine Deity continued.
“...I wondered if someone would come today. I wondered if someone would come tomorrow. But no one came.”
Koyoi gripped the pouch. It was warm. He could feel the deity’s emotions flowing into him. The loneliness. The isolation. And yet, a tiny hope that had never quite died.
“...For years and years, I waited.”
The deity’s voice was shaking now.
“...I believed that someday, someone would come.”
“...And then,” Koyoi said. “...I came?”
“...Yes.”
The Shrine Deity’s voice brightened.
“...You came for me.”
Koyoi remembered the day he had found the shrine. A broken-down little thing. In the middle of the mountains where no one ever went. The pouch had been lying there.
“...I was so happy,” the deity said.
“...I thought, 'Finally, they've come.' I thought, 'I've been waiting for you forever.'”
“...That's why...”
The Shrine Deity’s voice paused for a beat. Then, it spoke with clear conviction.
“...That's why I stayed there, waiting.”
The words pierced Koyoi’s heart. For years, for decades. In the middle of a mountain where no one ever came, the deity had just... waited. Because it believed. It believed that someday, someone would come.
Koyoi felt his eyes grow hot. He knew he shouldn't cry, but the tears threatened to spill over anyway.
“...Thank you,” Koyoi whispered. “...For waiting for me.”
“...Mm.”
The Shrine Deity replied peacefully.
“...I'm so glad I met you.”
The pouch was warm. He could feel the deity’s heart—the relief and joy after a long, long period of solitude.
Koyoi held that warmth close, taking it all in.