Our rest over, we began our ascent from the valley floor. The earth beneath my feet was damp and slick. One step at a time, I picked my way up with caution.
The fog was gradually thinning. Visibility, which had been barely ten meters moments ago, had stretched to fifteen. When I looked up, I could see the faint, pale tint of the sky through the haze.
"Is the exit... close?" Koyoi asked.
"...Yes." It was the voice of the Shrine God. "...Just a little more."
We kept climbing. The slope wasn't particularly steep, but my legs were heavy. I had been walking since yesterday without stopping.
"The vacant lot..." Koyoi spoke as she walked. "The shrine... you told me your story earlier, didn't you?"
"...Yes."
"Will the god of the vacant lot tell me his story too?"
"...About me?"
"Yes. I want to hear it. What kind of place was it?"
Silence. I felt the pouch grow just a little heavier. The God of the Vacant Lot was lost in thought.
"...Alright." His voice was a faint whisper. "...A long time ago."
"A long time ago... I was protected."
The God of the Vacant Lot began his story slowly. Koyoi stopped walking, bracing her hand against a rock to listen.
"A tiny shrine. It stood in the corner of a town."
Koyoi closed her eyes. The god's words began to form images in her mind. A small shrine, tucked away at the end of an alleyway, quiet and unassuming. A moss-covered roof. Ancient stone steps. But it was kept spotlessly clean.
"Every morning... someone would sweep. They offered flowers. They pressed their hands together in prayer."
He had been cherished. A small god, but one the people held dear.
"I was happy." There was a trace of nostalgia in his voice. "Every day, someone would visit. I wasn't alone."
"That sounds wonderful," Koyoi said.
"...Yes. Very."
"...But."
His voice changed, growing colder degree by degree. Koyoi started walking again, listening as she made her slow way up the slope.
"The town changed."
Koyoi felt her body stiffen at those words.
"The old houses were torn down. New roads were built."
Redevelopment. Old streets demolished, new buildings rising in their place.
"At first... it was alright," the God of the Vacant Lot said. "They left the shrine, even though everything around it changed."
Koyoi felt a small wave of relief. At least they had let him stay in the beginning.
"But then?" she asked.
"...Yes. Gradually..."
"...But."
His voice shifted again, turning darker. The pouch felt colder against her as the god’s emotions bled through the fabric.
"The person who swept was gone."
The person who cared for him had disappeared—perhaps they had grown old, or moved away. There was no one left to tend to the shrine.
"Even then... I waited. I thought someone would come. That they would sweep again."
Koyoi’s heart ached. He had been waiting, believing with all his heart that someone would return.
"But one day..." His voice trembled. "...the shrine was destroyed."
The word carried a heavy finality.
"They said it was a nuisance. They said it was dangerous. They said no one needed it anymore."
A dilapidated shrine, removed because it was a hazard. A rational decision, perhaps, but a god had lived there.
"And so..." His voice turned hoarse. "Nothing was left."
"Nothing?" Koyoi asked.
"The shrine was gone. The rest was just an empty plot. A place where no one goes."
It became a vacant lot. The spot where the shrine once stood was now just empty ground.
"The weeds grew. Trash was thrown there. No one even looked at me."
Koyoi stopped in her tracks. The sorrow of the God of the Vacant Lot pulsed through the pouch. A forgotten place. A forsaken place.
"Even my name was forgotten. What kind of god I was... no one knows. I forgot, too."
He no longer knew what kind of god he was supposed to be. All that remained was a presence in a vacant lot.
"For years... I waited there. Thinking someone would find me. That they would worship me again."
It was just like the other shrine. For decades, he had waited, believing that someone would come.
"But no one ever came."
Koyoi clutched the pouch tightly. It was cold with the god’s grief.
"And then... I came?" she asked.
"...Yes. You found me."
Koyoi remembered the day she visited that lot. An old, empty space enclosed by a wooden fence. A circular patch of earth where no grass would grow. Something had been there.
"I was happy," the voice said. "I could finally leave. I could be with someone again."
"Are you lonely now?" Koyoi asked.
"...No." His voice brightened just a fraction. "I am with you. The shrine is here, too. I am not alone."
Koyoi managed a small smile. The pouch might be cramped, but he had companions now.
"...But." His voice grew faint again. "I can't forget."
"Forget what?"
"That... loneliness." His voice trembled. "No one came for so many years. That loneliness."
Silence followed. The fog drifted slowly past. The view was opening up even more; the sky was clearly visible above.
"I just..." His voice was a rasp. "I wanted someone to look. I didn't want to be forgotten. I wanted them to know I was there."
Those words pierced Koyoi’s chest. He just wanted to be remembered—a simple, humble wish that had gone ungranted. She pressed the pouch against her heart. It was cold, but the God of the Vacant Lot was right there.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "That we humans forgot."
"You are different," the God of the Vacant Lot said. "You found me. You brought me out."
"Yes." Koyoi fought back tears. "I won't forget. Ever."
The moment she said it, a sharp pang of guilt struck her. She wouldn't forget, but eventually, she would have to let them go. To deliver them meant to say goodbye. Would this promise turn into a lie? The anxiety swirled in the depths of her heart.
"...Yes," the god's voice felt a little warmer now. "...Together."
The pouch felt as if it had grown just a tiny bit lighter.