I ran. Along the narrow paths between the fields, relying only on the moonlight. The soil was damp, and my shoes slipped. I almost fell many times, but I did not stop. The bag swayed on my back. The pouch swayed at my waist. I did not look back. I felt that if I did, I might hear those mechanical footsteps.
"...Hurry."
From inside the pouch, the voice of the shrine god.
"...That way, the mountain."
The voice of the vacant lot god followed. Koyoi turned toward the direction indicated. There was a small stream. About two meters wide. Stepping stones were visible. Her shoes got wet. It didn't matter. The coldness stung her ankles, but there was no time to stop.
A hill came into view. A gentle hill covered in grass. A place that looked down upon the town. She had climbed it once as a child. If she could get there, it might be a little safer. Her legs were heavy. She was out of breath. Even so, she climbed.
When she reached the top of the hill, Koyoi collapsed to her knees. The grass was wet, soaking her trousers. Cold. But she could no longer move. Shoulders heaving with each breath, she looked up at the sky. The stars were still twinkling. The night had not yet ended.
"...It's all right."
From inside the pouch, a small voice.
"...Here is far. That won't come."
Koyoi could do nothing but nod.
She did not know how much time had passed. Whether she had slept or lost consciousness. When she realized it, the edge of the sky was beginning to pale. Dawn.
Koyoi slowly raised her body. The night dew on the grass wet her palms. The leather of the bag had grown stiff, having absorbed the morning chill. Her shoulders hurt. Her back hurt. The straps of the bag had been digging in all night.
"...Mother."
When she spoke the word, her throat tightened.
The events of last night replayed in her head. Her mother's face as she turned around in the kitchen. Her trembling shoulders.
"Leave today."
"Don't ask."
"...Be careful."
Those voices still lingered deep in her ears.
She opened the bag. A change of clothes. A cloth wrapping dried rice cakes. A bamboo water bottle. A small bag of coins. When had her mother prepared these? Had she known this day would come even before the Observers arrived? At the bottom of the bag was a small scrap of cloth. A remnant of her mother's kimono. That indigo-dyed kimono.
"...Idiot."
Koyoi squeezed the scrap of cloth. No words came. She didn't know if she wanted to cry or be angry. Her chest was simply heavy, like lead.
"...You."
From inside the pouch, the voice of the shrine god.
"...Look."
Koyoi looked up. The direction the shrine god indicated. Northeast. The direction of the town.
Her breath hitched.
Kirihara Town was sinking into the mist. The town that had been there until yesterday was vanishing beneath a white sea. The mist was spreading from the center of town. The place where the Observers had been. Radially, slowly, and surely. The shopping street blurred white. The direction of Koyoi's house was no longer visible either. The white walls of the school dissolved into the mist. Roof tiles floated like islands. They, too, would soon sink.
"...The town."
Koyoi's voice trembled.
"...It's being swallowed."
The morning sun began to rise. The ridgeline of the eastern mountains burned red. That light illuminated the surface of the mist. The white mist was dyed in the colors of the sunrise. A scene one might even call beautiful. But beneath that white lay the town where Koyoi was born and raised. Her mother was there. Her house was there. Her school was there.
The mist stopped. Its movement came to a sudden halt. It wasn't that it had ceased spreading. There was simply nowhere left for it to spread. The entire town was completely covered in mist.
At that moment.
Kachin.
A metallic, dry sound rang out. It should have been distant, yet it was clearly audible. The sound of a machine finalizing something. The sound of a lock closing. The air grew heavy for just an instant. A sensation as if pressure had been applied, or her ears had become blocked.
The pouch gave a sudden jerk.
"...It is finished."
The voice of the shrine god.
"...The town, fixed."
The voice of the vacant lot god followed.
"...No more, going back."
Koyoi stood frozen. The town sunken in mist moved no more. Even if the wind blew, the mist did not sway. A frozen white mass lay there. The town was fixed. The Observers had "completed the measurement."
"...Mother."
Her voice trembled. Her mother was in there. Left behind inside the fixed town.
"...Is she alive?"
Koyoi asked the pouch. For a while, silence.
"...Don't know."
"...But, she has not vanished."
"...Only, fixed."
Only fixed. Koyoi could not fully understand the meaning of those words. But if she hadn't vanished, perhaps there was still something she could do.
The morning sun illuminated the hill. Koyoi's shadow stretched long to the west. Turning around, she saw the entrance to the mountain path. An old signpost was leaning. The character "→ Boundary" was barely legible.
"...I must go."
Koyoi told herself. Staying here would change nothing. The town was fixed. Her mother was in there. But Koyoi was outside. She was not yet fixed. If so, she had no choice but to go forward.
She readjusted the bag on her back. The straps dug in. It was painful, but that pain felt reassuring now. It was proof that she could still move. She retied the pouch to her waist. Two presences breathed quietly inside it.
"...Thank you."
Koyoi said, facing the town. She didn't think it would reach her mother. But she couldn't help saying it.
"...I'm going now."
She took a step toward the entrance of the mountain path. Behind her, the town sunken in mist glittered, illuminated by the morning sun. A white, cold, motionless light.
Koyoi did not look back again. She knew that even if she did, she would see nothing. That town was no longer the town Koyoi knew.
Facing forward, she walked. To the mountain path. To the Boundary. Carrying the bag her mother had prepared. Hanging the pouch containing the gods at her waist.
The final morning had ended.