The summit was a grotesque sight. What should have been a place of lush, burgeoning trees had been cleared into a perfect circle, exposing the raw, reddish-brown earth. The scent of freshly cut stumps still lingered, mixed with the acrid stench of iron and oil rising from the gouged soil. With every step, the earth gave a hard, hollow thud, and fine sand clung to the soles of his shoes. The sky hung low, with clouds churning in a violent vortex.
Several machines had been installed there. Black boxes mounted on tripods. Blinking red lights. Thick cables crawled across the ground, converging at a single point in the center. White powder had been strewn on the earth, forming a series of strange, overlapping circles. A low growl leaked from the machines’ innards, and the sound of vibrating metal echoed in the depths of his ears. Koyoi could feel it against his skin—the reason the wind refused to stop was that the air here was being suppressed.
The Observers were there. Five of them. No, six. They wore inorganic work clothes and wide-brimmed hats pulled low over their eyes. They operated the machines in silence, occasionally scribbling something into their ledgers. Their movements were mechanical, devoid of emotion. Their faces, hidden in the shadows of their hats, were invisible. They made no sound. They seemed less like humans and more like the embodiment of a mechanism walking on two legs.
And in the center. A black wind was swirling. It was a tornado. But not just a tornado. Something was inside. A beast-like, human-like, shapeless shadow. It thrashed about, trapped within an invisible cage. Every time it struck the bars of its prison, sparks flew with a sharp crackle, and a sound like a scream echoed out. The air took on a sweet, metallic tang, and the hair on the back of Koyoi’s neck stood on end. Every time a thin wail escaped from the heart of the wind, Koyoi’s chest tightened. That shadow wasn't just angry. It was crying out for help.
"Fixation rate, eighty percent," one of the Observers said in a toneless voice.
"Compressing fluctuations. ...Just a little longer until individual collapse."
Collapse. The god was going to break.
"Stop it!" Koyoi cried out. Asahi caught his arm before his feet could carry him forward.
"Wait. Charging in from the front will only get you caught."
"But, that child...!"
"I'll draw them away."
Asahi drew his sword. In the wind, the silver blade glinted coldly. In that light, Koyoi felt saved for a fleeting moment.
"You, get inside that wind."
"What?" Koyoi doubted his ears. Into that gale? Into the heart of that monster?
"You're the only one who can soothe a god. ...Use your pouch."
Asahi smirked. A fearless, daring grin.
"I'll clear the path. ...Trust me."
"Okay!" Koyoi nodded. He would trust him. Trust Asahi. And trust himself. The words of Shiori echoed in the back of his mind: Deliver them. That promise became the strength that moved his feet forward.
"Let's go!"
Asahi lunged. He was fast. Slicing through the wind, he plunged into the group of Observers. Before they could react, he struck the nearest machine.
Clang-crack!
Sparks flew, and the machine exploded. Black smoke rose, and red lamps began to flash in unison.
"Hostile interference confirmed."
"Shifting to elimination protocol."
The Observers turned toward Asahi all at once. From the tools in their hands, they unleashed something like shockwaves. The waves gouged the earth, sending soil flying. Asahi sliced through the air with his sword, closing the distance as if sliding through the gaps in the wind. A glimpse of eyes from beneath the hats caught him for a second, only for him to vanish from their sight in the next.
"Too slow!"
Asahi spun to dodge and kicked the second Observer back. His sword cut through the air, severing the cables. Sparks flew, and a part of the circle on the ground vanished. The wind raged for a moment, and a cry rose from within the black vortex. Without losing momentum, Asahi slammed his sword into a tripod-mounted machine. The blade bit into the metal with a high-pitched screech. The machine burst into flames, and one of the Observers tumbled backward.
The enemy’s attention was entirely on Asahi.
"Now, Koyoi!"
"Right!"
Koyoi ran. Into the vortex of wind. Toward the god. The soil beneath his feet was being sucked into the gale, pulling at his ankles. He braced himself, staying low as he advanced. Behind him, the mechanical roar grew louder, and the voices of the Observers receded. Asahi was holding them back. Being supported by that strength pushed back his fear.
As he drew closer, the wind pressure became terrifying. He felt as though his body would be blown away. Sand lashed his face. It hurt. He couldn't keep his eyes open. But he didn't stop.
...Don't come.
...Vanish.
He heard the voices of rejection. Voices of anger and fear. Screams of pain.
"I'm not afraid," he told himself. That isn't a monster. It's a crying god. It's only raging because it's in pain.
He plunged into the heart of the vortex. His vision went black. A roar. A sensation as if his entire body were being sliced apart. His skin tore, his hair was whipped, and the breath was stolen from his lungs. The depths of his ears ached. With every breath, sand entered his throat; he fought desperately to suppress the urge to cough. Walls of wind layered upon one another, pushing him back. Koyoi clutched the pouch to his chest and dug his feet in. The ground gave way, and his knees sank into the sand. Still, he reached out with his arms.
In the center, the shadow was there. A small shadow, huddled and weeping. With every breath it took, the wind made a thin, whistling sound. A moisture like tears struck his cheeks. The wind that once traversed the clear sky was now cowering in this cramped cage. Koyoi's heart ached at the sight.
Koyoi opened the pouch. A faint chill leaked from its mouth. The once-empty bag was now open to welcome someone. That opening looked like the entrance to a tiny home.
"Come here!" he shouted. Struggling to be heard over the roar of the wind.
"It won't hurt in here!"
"You'll be free in here!"
The shadow raised its head. Red eyes. Eyes stained with anger and sorrow. But deep within, he saw a light seeking help.
"...Save... me."
He heard a voice. A true voice.
"...It hurts."
"Yeah. I'll save you."
Koyoi reached out. Into the thrashing wind, he extended his hand. His fingertips were sliced. Blood flowed. He didn't care. The blood dissolved into the wind, vanishing as thin red threads. Koyoi prayed those threads would mix with the wind and reach the god.
"Come here!"
The shadow wavered. And then, slowly, it stretched out toward Koyoi’s hand. The black mist cleared, turning into a translucent mass of wind. In that wind, he caught the scent of blue skies for a fleeting moment. The scent of the free wind he had felt atop the mountain.
Koyoi’s fingers touched the wind. Cold. But a gentle touch. Though he felt as if he had been dipped in ice water, his heart was warm.
In the next moment, the wind swirled and was sucked into the pouch. The vortex stilled, and the roar receded. The world exhaled a quiet breath. The mechanical growl faded, and the red lamps went out, one by one. It felt as though the true wind had finally returned to the summit's sky. Koyoi fell to his knees, gasping for air. Sweat and sand mingled, leaving cold streaks on his cheeks.
"Koyoi!"
Asahi’s voice echoed from a distance. Koyoi nodded to the voice and clutched the pouch. The weight of the wind told him for certain that it was here. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the Observers retreating, clutching their machines. The summit, with its wind restored, was no place for them. Koyoi watched them go and let out a deep breath. The wind stroked his cheeks, and for the first time in a while, warm air filled his lungs. He etched that sensation into his heart and gripped the pouch once more. Sand flowed softly beneath his feet, and the sky grew a little brighter. It was a quiet color that signaled the end of the storm. Koyoi seared that color into his eyes so he would never forget it. A small relief spread through his chest. That was enough. The wind was quiet. Silence followed.