When I woke, I heard the birds.
It was the peaceful sound of morning in Sakai, the Village of the Boundary. The chirp of sparrows, the soft skittering of tiny claws across the roof. The distant caw of a crow seemed to blur yesterday’s battle and farewells behind a thin veil.
Koyoi slowly opened his eyes beneath the covers.
He stared up at the unfamiliar grain of the wooden ceiling. The beams were thick, blackened by years of soot from the hearth. Morning light filtered through the gaps in the lattice at a sharp angle, catching dancing motes of dust.
Last night, he had slept heavily and without dreams.
The tension coiled deep in his bones had finally unraveled. The relief of having safely delivered the three gods had flowed from his spine to his fingertips, sinking him into the depths of sleep. Burying his cheek into the quilt—which smelled of sweat and earth—he felt a sudden, fleeting urge to drift off just once more.
As he pulled himself up, he noticed the drawstring pouch sitting by his pillow.
An empty pouch.
When he picked it up, it was startlingly light. It felt as airy as a feather, as if it held only air. And yet, a slight warmth still clung to the fabric. He felt as if the cold memory of the Water God, the quiet weight of the Signpost God, and the Shrine God’s bell-like presence still seemed to linger in the weave.
He folded his bedding and scooped water from a basin to wash his face. The icy sting against his skin jolted the last of the sleep from his mind. In the reflection on the water's surface, his face looked a little thinner, but his eyes shone with a strange intensity.
"...Good morning."
Koyoi spoke to the pouch.
There was no answer. Of course there wasn't; there was no one inside.
And yet, he felt as if the wind blowing in through the window offered a hushed reply. From the north, the west, and the east, the feeling of distant places echoed back. The Waterway, the Shrine, the Signpost. They were all greeting the morning in their own places.
"...I wonder if they're doing well."
Koyoi pulled the pouch to his chest.
There was a lingering loneliness, but it wasn't a sharp pain. It was a warm, gentle ache that spread slowly through him. The fulfillment of finishing his task softened that sadness.
When he finished dressing and stepped outside, the crisp morning air brushed against his cheeks.
A thin mist drifted through the village, softening the silhouettes of the houses. The creak of a well-bucket, the rhythmic scratch of a bamboo broom, the savory scent of miso soup—the village was peaceful, life flowing by at a steady, even pace.
Koyoi made his way toward the Elder’s house.
He had to talk about what came next.
The Elder was standing in the garden, gazing up at the sky. His posture was straight and silent, a quiet figure in an indigo surcoat, his slender hand resting on a staff. He looked as though he were staring into the distance, or perhaps testing the wind that blew from beyond the Boundary.
"You're awake, Koyoi," the Elder said without turning around.
His voice was as clear as the morning air.
"...Yes."
"It is a fine morning. The wind has changed."
The Elder pointed toward the sky. Thin clouds drifted through the high blue. The stagnant air that had lingered until last night had vanished, replaced by a pure, sweeping breeze.
"Because you delivered those gods, the stagnation at the Boundary has cleared somewhat."
"...Is that thanks to me?"
"Indeed. When a god returns to their proper place, the world finds its breath again."
The Elder turned slowly to face Koyoi. His eyes were a bit sterner today, filled with a sudden gravity. His gaze, peering out from deep wrinkles, seemed to pierce right through him.
"But this is not the end."
Koyoi straightened his back. He knew. It wasn't over. Somewhere out there, in places he couldn't see, there were still gods who were weeping.
"...I know. The Observers are still—"
"It is not just them."
The Elder motioned for him to sit in a garden chair. Koyoi took a seat on a nearby tree stump.
"The world is vast. It is more than just Kirihara Town or this surrounding area. Throughout this land, there are forgotten gods everywhere."
The Elder’s voice dropped low.
"Gods who are forgotten, fading, and hunted by the Observers. They move with organization. They seek to strip the gods of their power and force the world into stasis."
Koyoi gripped the pouch. He remembered the Water God’s words: 'There are many in this town.' Surely, in other towns too. In other mountains. Gods crying out, noticed by no one.
"Elder."
Koyoi looked up.
"Are you telling me... to go and gather them?"
The Elder shook his head slowly.
"I will not force you. It is a grueling journey."
He paused, his eyes heavy. "It will be longer and far more dangerous than the path you walked to get here. There is no guarantee you will survive. You are still a child. There is a path for you here, to live as a son of this village."
To live as a child of the village.
It would be a safe, gentle life. There would be meals every day, a roof to keep out the rain, and kind people all around. No one would hunt him. He wouldn't have to lose anything else. But...
Koyoi looked at the pouch. The empty pouch. The bonds remained there. Shiori’s feelings remained there.
She had given her life so Koyoi could live. It wasn't just so he could survive; she had entrusted him with the mission to "deliver."
And then, there were those words:
'We will meet again, at the time of the Kamiatsume.'
To keep that promise, he couldn't afford to stand still here.
"...I'll go," Koyoi said. There was no hesitation. "I am the Gatherer."
"The fact that I can hear them, that I can see them... it must be for this reason. It's something only I can do."
The Elder stared at Koyoi for a long moment. The silence felt like an eternity. Koyoi felt as though he were being tested—tested on the weight of his resolve.
Finally, the Elder gave a deep nod.
"I thought you might say that."
A small smile played at the corners of the Elder's mouth. His eyes held a mixture of nostalgia and pride, like a grandfather looking at a grandson, or perhaps a veteran looking at an old comrade.
"You are strong... stronger than I was."
"What?"
The Elder’s eyes drifted toward the horizon. "No, it's nothing. Well then, we must prepare."
He stood and went inside the house, returning shortly with a map and a bundle of travel gear. Sandals, dried herbs, a small canteen, and a single short sword.
"Your next journey takes you west. There are rumors of a 'Wind God' there."
"A Wind God..."
"Yes. Word has reached me that a deity governing the wind is on the verge of being captured by the Observers. The location is an abandoned village, about a three-day trek from here."
The Elder spread the map and traced the path with his finger. Over mountains, across valleys, a road heading west into parched lands where the winds blow hard.
"And beyond that, you should find the path that leads to the Kamiatsume."
The Kamiatsume—The Gathering of the Gods.
Hearing the word sent a surge of heat through Koyoi's chest. The promised place. The place where all gods would gather, and where all destinies would converge.
"Yes. I'm going."
Koyoi's answer was firm. He took the map. The feel of the old paper, the scent of the ink... the rough texture against his fingertips told him the weight of this new departure.
"Go with care. The path is steep, but I believe you can cross it."
"Thank you for everything."
Koyoi bowed deeply.
As he left the house, the morning mist had thinned even further. At the edge of the village, children ran past carrying firewood, and the well water sparkled in the sunlight. Koyoi adjusted his pack and checked the ties on his sandals. The bite of the new cords against his feet made the reality of the long walk ahead sink in. He pressed his hand against a small stone by the roadside and closed his eyes for a moment.
"...Watch over me."
His voice was a whisper, but he felt the wind catch it. No voice answered, yet a quiet light flickered to life deep in his chest. A light that wouldn't go out. He knew that as he walked, it would only grow brighter.
Guided by that light, Koyoi straightened his back.
A breeze blew.
It swept through the village and raced toward the west. The trees rustled, and the last of the mist tore away.
It was a wind announcing a new beginning.
With that wind at his back, Koyoi took his first step.