The road heading north wasn’t as treacherous as I’d feared.
Walking with the wall of mist at my back, I soon found myself standing upon a mountain ridge. To my right, the hazy silhouette of Kirihara—the town I knew so well—flickered in the distance.
I might actually make it back.
If I detoured to the east, I’d hit the mountain pass. It was a path my father had taken me on once when I was a child. If I followed that road, I could reach the eastern edge of town.
Inside the drawstring pouch at my waist, two presences stirred.
“...Home?”
It was the voice of the shrine deity.
“...Yeah. But we’re taking the long way.”
“...That... mist. It’s... wrong.”
The voice of the vacant lot deity followed.
“...Not... normal... mist.”
I looked back. To the south, the white wall was still visible. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t chasing me. It was just... there.
“...I know.”
The eastern mountain pass was exactly where I remembered it. It looked like it had once been an old road; the path was wide, paved with gravel, and easy to walk. However, there was no sign of another living soul. Grass had begun to reclaim the road, creeping in from the edges.
As I started down the slope, the rooftops of the town drew closer.
It was a familiar sight. Rows of tiled roofs, thin trails of smoke rising from chimneys. A town at dusk. The town I had seen every day.
And yet, something was off.
When I entered from the eastern outskirts, the first thing I noticed was the silence.
At this hour, children should have been playing. Neighborhood women should have been gossiping by the wells. The air should have been thick with the sounds of life—dogs barking, the clatter of pots.
There was none of it.
There were people, yes. But no one was speaking. They stayed tucked away inside their homes. Those few walking the streets moved with hurried steps, eyes fixed on the ground, refusing to meet my gaze.
I came to a halt as I reached the main shopping street.
There were strangers there.
Three of them. No, four. They wore grey work clothes and wide-brimmed hats pulled low over their faces.
They were “measuring” something.
They had set up a tripod with a brass box perched on top. The front of the box featured a lens of black glass, and a thin needle sat atop the casing, twitching ever so slightly.
One man peered into the box while another scribbled notes in a ledger.
Tick. Tick. A faint sound emanated from the device.
“...That,” the shrine deity’s voice trembled from inside the pouch.
“...No. They’ll... find us.”
The vacant lot deity let out a low groan.
“...The... Measurers.”
I tried to back away slowly.
I wasn’t fast enough.
The man with the ledger looked up. Our eyes met.
His eyes were void of emotion. It wasn’t that they were cold or frightening, exactly—it was just that they reflected nothing. They were like glass beads. He didn’t even blink.
The man stared at me. Then, slowly, he wrote something in his ledger. The sound of the pen scratching against the paper seemed unnaturally loud.
“...Run!”
The pouch shuddered.
In that heartbeat, I was already bolting.
I dived into a back alley. It was narrow—so narrow I could almost touch the walls on either side if I stretched out my arms. It smelled of damp earth and clay. My feet kicked up mud with every stride.
I heard footsteps behind me.
They were following. But it wasn’t the sound of someone running. It was the sound of someone walking. Thud. Thud. A rhythmic, mechanical, perfectly even pace.
I hung a left at the corner.
An old well came into view. I knew this place. I’d played hide-and-seek here as a kid.
I slipped behind the well and crouched in the shadow of a woodpile.
My breath was ragged. My heart was thundering in my ears. The pouch at my hip swayed, and I could feel the terror radiating from the deities within.
The footsteps drew closer.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
They stopped.
They were in the small square by the well. Someone was standing right there.
“...Lost the trail,” a voice said. It was low, flat, and entirely without inflection.
“Search. The subject is still close.”
Another voice, just as hollow and devoid of feeling.
“Subject was carrying a pouch. The source of the fluctuation.”
“The readings?”
“Incomplete. The movement caused the values to spike.”
I held my breath. Sweat trailed down my forehead. I was certain they could hear my heart.
“...Return. We will employ an alternate method.”
The footsteps began to recede.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Until finally, there was only silence.
Still, I couldn’t move. I stayed there behind the woodpile, hugging my knees, for a long time. I waited until the sun dipped lower and the shadows stretched long across the ground.
The sun was nearly sinking behind the rooftops by the time I reached my house.
I slipped in through the back door. My mother was in the kitchen.
Her back was turned to me. Normally, she would have heard my footsteps and looked back immediately. Today, she didn’t move.
“...Mom.”
“...I know,” she said, her voice low.
“They’ve been here since this morning. Walking all over town, measuring everything.”
“...What are they?”
“I don’t know. But the air has been strange since before they even arrived.”
Mother turned around. In her hands, she held an old leather rucksack. It was a deep, well-worn brown. My father’s bag.
“Take this.”
She held it out to me.
“Change of clothes, dried rice cakes, water. There’s a little money in there, too.”
“...Mom.”
“You have to leave. Today.”
Her voice trembled, but her eyes were locked onto mine, steady and firm.
“I don’t know where you should go. But you can’t stay here.”
“...Why?”
“Don’t ask.”
Mother turned her back to me again. Her shoulders were shaking, just a little.
I took the bag. It was heavy. It smelled of old leather. It smelled of my father.
“...I’m going now.” My voice was a rasp.
“...Be careful.”
Her voice was just as faint. There was nothing left to say.
I went to my room and re-tied the pouch firmly to my waist. I shouldered the rucksack, the straps digging into my skin.
Looking out the window toward the shopping street, I saw a small light blinking. The machine on the tripod was still there, measuring something in the dark.
“...Must go,” the shrine deity whispered.
“...If they... find us... it’s over.”
“...What happens if they find us?”
“...Don’t know. But... bad.”
I took a deep breath. Leaving home. Leaving my mother behind. Leaving the town. The moment I made the choice, I felt something snap shut deep inside my chest.
As I reached for the front door, I heard voices from outside. Low, emotionless voices.
“Do not lose the target.”
“Re-measuring this sector.”
“Once the fluctuation converges, we can pinpoint the location.”
I pulled my hand away from the door. The back way. I’d go out the back and cut through the fields.
I walked as softly as I could, my heart feeling like it was lodged in the back of my throat.
Behind me, there was a knock at the front door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Mechanical. Perfectly even.
I started to run. I didn’t look back. I felt that if I looked back, something would end forever.
I bolted into the darkness of the night. On my back, the bag my mother had packed. At my waist, the pouch holding the gods.
“Do not lose the target.”
The voice echoed in the back of my mind, long after I had left the town behind.