The road heading north wasn’t as treacherous as he’d feared.
Walking with the wall of mist at his back, he soon found himself standing upon a mountain ridge. To his right, the hazy silhouette of Kirihara—the town he knew so well—flickered in the distance.
He might actually make it back.
If he detoured to the east, he’d hit the mountain pass. It was a path his father had taken him on once when he was a child. If he followed that road, he could reach the eastern edge of town.
Inside the drawstring pouch at his waist, two presences stirred.
“...Home?”
It was the voice of the shrine god.
“...Yeah. But we’re taking the long way.”
“...That... mist. It’s... wrong.”
The voice of the vacant lot god followed.
“...Not... normal... mist.”
Koyoi looked back. To the south, the white wall was still visible. It wasn’t moving. It wasn’t chasing him. It was just... there.
“...I know.”
The eastern mountain pass was exactly where he 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 he 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 he had seen every day.
And yet, something was off.
When he entered from the eastern outskirts, the first thing he 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, chickens calling.
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 his gaze.
Koyoi came to a halt as he entered 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 god’s voice trembled from inside the pouch.
“...No. They’ll... find us.”
The vacant lot god let out a low groan.
“...The... Measurers.”
Koyoi tried to back away slowly.
He wasn’t fast enough.
The man with the ledger looked up. Their 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 Koyoi. 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, Koyoi was already bolting.
He dived into a back alley. It was narrow—so narrow he could almost touch the walls on either side if he stretched out his arms. It smelled of damp earth and clay. His feet kicked up mud with every stride.
He heard footsteps behind him.
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.
He hung a left at the corner.
An old well came into view. He knew this place. He’d played hide-and-seek here as a kid.
He slipped behind the well and crouched in the shadow of a woodpile.
His breath was ragged. His heart was thundering in his ears. The pouch at his hip swayed, and he could feel the terror radiating from the gods 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.”
Koyoi held his breath. Sweat trailed down his forehead. He was certain they could hear his heart.
“...Return. We will employ an alternate method.”
The footsteps began to recede.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Until finally, there was only silence.
Still, Koyoi couldn’t move. He stayed there behind the woodpile, hugging his knees, for a long time. He 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 he reached his house.
He slipped in through the back door. His mother was in the kitchen.
Her back was turned to him. Normally, she would have heard his 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.”
His mother turned around. In her hands, she held an old leather bag. Well-worn brown leather. It had been his father’s.
“Take this.”
She held it out to him.
“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 his, steady and firm.
“I don’t know where you should go. But you can’t stay here.”
“...Why?”
“Don’t ask.”
His mother turned her back to him again. Her shoulders were shaking, just a little.
Koyoi took the bag. It was heavy. It smelled of old leather. It smelled of his father.
“...I’m going now.” His voice was a rasp.
“...Be careful.”
Her voice was just as faint. There was nothing left to say.
He went to his room and re-tied the pouch firmly to his waist. He shouldered the bag, the straps digging into his skin.
Looking out the window toward the shopping street, he saw a small light blinking. The machine on the tripod was still there, measuring something in the dark.
“...Must go,” the shrine god whispered.
“...If they... find us... it’s over.”
“...What happens if they find us?”
“...Don’t know. But... bad.”
Koyoi took a deep breath. Leaving home. Leaving his mother behind. Leaving the town. The moment he made the choice, he felt something snap shut deep inside his chest.
As he reached for the front door, he 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.”
Koyoi pulled his hand away from the door. The back way. He’d go out the back and cut through the fields.
He walked as softly as he could, his heart feeling like it was lodged in the back of his throat.
Behind him, there was a knock at the front door.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Mechanical. Perfectly even.
He started to run. He didn’t look back. He felt that if he looked back, something would end forever.
He bolted into the darkness of the night. On his back, the bag his mother had packed. At his waist, the pouch holding the gods.
“Do not lose the target.”
The voice echoed in the back of his mind, long after he had left the town behind.