The three of them stood frozen before the invisible wall: Asahi, Koyoi, and the Wind God within the drawstring pouch. The town’s air was heavy, its currents bound like thin, tight threads.
Where the wind failed to reach, sound grew thin. Distant birdsong seemed to strike the wall and vanish mid-air. Koyoi felt a cold thorn prick his chest and adjusted his hold on the pouch. Each time the Wind God exhaled, the pouch trembled faintly. The vibration was weak—a silent plea for breath.
Even falling leaves hit the ground with a dull thud. The air was so thick that time itself seemed to crawl. For the first time, Koyoi realized the profound silence of a world without wind.
“...It feels like this wall goes on forever.”
Koyoi tried walking along the barrier. The road, the roofs of the houses, the narrow paths between fields—everything was severed by an unseen boundary. The town felt trapped under a giant glass jar, the sky itself appearing bruised and dull. Smoke from chimneys simply smeared against the boundary and stopped. As if even his own breath had nowhere to go, Koyoi instinctively gulped a breath.
The wind chimes were silent; hanging fabrics hung limp. A sense that all movement was being sucked away permeated the town.
“This isn't just a wall. The very properties of space have been rewritten.”
Asahi sheathed his sword, his expression dark with thought. “Breaking it physically is impossible. We have to find the ‘core’ maintaining this barrier.”
He pressed an ear to the wall, listening for a low mechanical hum. The sound grew sharper as they moved toward the center of town. He narrowed his eyes, gauging the direction.
“Once we find it, I’m taking it down immediately.”
He spoke with total conviction—less a word of encouragement for Koyoi and more a vow to himself. Koyoi unfolded the map at his waist and marked the town square. If they reached the fire watchtower, the flow would change. He had to believe that.
“...I can see it.”
The Wind God’s voice drifted from the pouch, clearer than before. “...Where... the fluctuations... gather.”
“The wind? What do you see?”
“...Over there. ...Up... in the sky.”
Koyoi looked up in the direction the Wind God pointed. There stood the old fire watchtower, rising above the center of the town. Near its peak, the air shimmered like a heat haze, distorting the light and the sky itself.
Koyoi strained his eyes. Beyond the shimmer, he saw faint threads of light vibrating. The Wind God was showing him where the town’s fluctuations were being harvested.
The tower had once been built to protect the town from fire; the irony that it now served as an instrument of imprisonment stung Koyoi’s heart. The plaza was deathly still, the withered leaves on the cobblestones frozen in place. Swallowed by the silence, Koyoi bit his lip.
“Asahi, look! Up there!”
Asahi looked up. “The watchtower... you’re right. The airflow is unnatural up there.”
“Is the core there?”
“Likely. Those bastards love high ground. They’re probably broadcasting a signal to lock down the entire area.”
The two of them hurried toward the center of the town. There wasn't a soul near the tower, but as they approached, that grating static grew louder. It made Koyoi’s skin crawl and his hair stand on end.
A dull ache throbbed in his ears. Inside the pouch, the Wind God let out a low growl—frightened, yet urging him forward. Townspeople had gathered at a distance, watching in hushed silence. Their eyes, a mix of hope and anxiety, pressed against Koyoi’s back. If he failed, the town’s time would remain frozen forever.
“It’s okay,” Koyoi whispered to himself. “I can do this.”
At the tower’s base, the Observers had installed their equipment. Several transmitter stakes were driven into the earth like nails. Koyoi could faintly see threads of light stretching from them toward the core in the sky. A fine white powder lay scattered on the ground, swirling in thin artificial drafts.
The powder was likely a ritual formula used to suppress the town’s fluctuations. As he stepped forward, a piercing chill rose from the ground. Koyoi held his breath and recoiled.
Every time the threads of light flickered, the surface of the invisible wall trembled for a fraction of a second. The core was pulsing. Koyoi gripped the pouch tight and whispered to the Wind God. The back of his nose stung with the smell of scorched metal and a cloying, sweet chemical scent—an odor entirely alien to nature.
“If we break those, will the wall disappear?”
“No, those stakes at the bottom are just stabilizers. The real prize is at the top.”
Asahi looked up at the tower's ladder. “I’ll climb. You stay here with the Wind God and scramble the fluctuations.”
“Scramble them?”
“The Observers rely on stability. Use the power of the wind to throw the readings in this area into chaos. That will weaken the core’s defenses.”
Asahi’s voice was calm, but his hand gripped his sword with white-knuckled intensity. This was the moment. Koyoi tightened his hold on the pouch.
“Are you scared?” Asahi asked curtly.
“...I am. But I’m going to do it.”
Koyoi’s voice was small but steady. Shiori’s smiling face flashed in his mind, a promise flickering like a candle in his chest. Even if he was terrified, he couldn't stop now.
“...Alright. Let’s try.”
Koyoi loosened the drawstring of the pouch. “Please, Wind! Go wild! Give it everything you’ve got!”
“...Leave it to me!”
A miniature tornado erupted from the pouch, swirling violently around the tower. Dust kicked up in clouds, and the machine lamps began to blink a frantic red. Fabrics across town snapped in the gale, roof tiles rattled, and the air began to scream.
As the cyclone spun, Koyoi’s hair whipped wildly around his face. He could barely keep his eyes open, but he felt the natural flow of the world returning. At the heart of the vortex, the white powder was swept away, and the ritual formula broke with a sharp crack.
Koyoi spread his arms, leaning his body to guide the currents. The Wind God’s presence was growing stronger by the second. His arms went numb and his shoulders felt like lead, but the Wind God’s voice pushed him: Not yet. Keep going. He gritted his teeth, wringing out the last of his strength.
His feet faltered in the swirling sand. If I stop here, the town will be locked away again. The thought sent a fresh surge of power into his limbs.
“Good! Just like that!” Asahi yelled, reaching for the next rung.
In that instant—
“Anomaly detected.”
A mechanical, toneless voice rang out. Three Observers emerged from the shadows of a nearby alleyway, clad in grey jumpsuits and brimmed hats. They held weapons resembling capture nets that glowed with a pale blue light as the temperature plummeted.
“...Tch. Right on cue.”
Asahi drew his sword. “Koyoi, don't stop the wind! I’ll hold them off!”
“Asahi!”
“Keep your eyes forward! Focus on your job!”
Asahi lunged toward the Observers. A new battle had begun in the heart of the storm. Koyoi didn't stop the wind; he kept his eyes fixed on the top of the tower. His heartbeat synced with the howling gale until the two sounds melted into one.
The town’s air began to move. Stagnant dust danced, and the shadow of the tower wavered ever so slightly. In that tremor, Koyoi saw the sign that the wind was returning. It was weak, but it was the movement of something undeniably alive.