Morning came early to the forest.
Pale light filtered through the gaps in the canopy. Dew soaked the leaves, and the air was cold and damp. As he stepped on the ashes of the campfire, a faint, lingering warmth remained.
Koyoi adjusted his wet straw sandals and checked the knot on his drawstring pouch. The Wind God stirred slightly within, seemingly unsettled by the morning dampness. The cords of his sandals were damp and prone to slipping, forcing him to retie them again and again. He wanted to cross the mountain before the rain came. A small seed of anxiety took root in his chest.
“...It’s going to rain.”
Asahi muttered the words while looking up at the sky.
The clouds were moving fast. A dull, leaden shroud was spreading from the western horizon. The scent of the forest had changed. The smell of earth and grass was now laced with the heavy scent of rain.
“Let’s hurry. I want to be over the mountain before it pours.”
“Okay.”
Koyoi retied the pouch to his waist and followed after Asahi. A damp breeze brushed his cheek—different from the dry winds of yesterday. Inside the pouch, the Wind God moved restlessly.
The humidity clung to his skin, making his hair stick to his face. Koyoi wiped his brow with his sleeve and quickened his pace. Above the treetops, the clouds raced by, blotting out the light. The forest grew a shade darker, and the shadows at their feet stretched long. The approaching rain dulled the world’s colors.
“...Rain... coming.”
“...Heavy... rain.”
“Heavy rain?”
“...Yeah. The sky... is crying.”
True to the Wind God’s words, droplets began to fall before noon. It started as a sparse patter but soon turned into a full downpour—a violent rain that lashed the entire forest with a relentless roar. Branches swayed wildly, and the undersides of the leaves flashed white in the gloom.
“Tch, faster than I thought,” Asahi clicked his tongue.
The mountain path quickly turned to muck. His sandals sank into the mud, and cold water seeped into his tabi socks. His pack felt heavier with every step, and his breathing grew harsh.
“Koyoi, you alright?”
“...Yeah, I’m fine.”
Koyoi pulled his straw hat low to shield himself. Visibility was poor; the rain was a thick curtain that obscured everything more than a few meters away. Their voices and even the Wind God’s whispers were nearly drowned out by the drumming of the storm. Koyoi clutched his pouch, but the spirit remained agitated, trembling within.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, making the forest shake. Koyoi huddled his shoulders and picked his way forward, testing each step. Mud splattered his clothes, and his socks felt like lead.
“Let’s find a place to wait this out!” Asahi shouted. If they kept walking, the rain would sap their strength until they were stranded.
After walking for a while, they spotted a small shrine by the side of the road. It was an old wooden structure with a door fallen off its hinges, but the roof was still intact. Faded talismans were stuck to the pillars, their ink blurred into smears by the rain. He could just make out the word “Protection.” This place, too, must have been guarded by someone once.
Spiderwebs hung from the rafters, glistening with trapped raindrops. Koyoi brushed them away gently. Only the sound of the rain filled this small, forgotten place of prayer.
“Over there!”
The two of them scrambled into the shrine, drenched and covered in mud. It was dim and dusty inside, but it was dry. Koyoi took off his hat and wrung out his wet sleeves. Cold water dripped onto the floor. He was chilled to the bone.
A small wooden fox lay overturned in the corner. Koyoi set it upright and placed it gently back in its place. He didn’t know the proper way to pray here, but he felt a sudden urge to fix what had fallen. The wood was damp and cold. Koyoi touched it with his palm as if to warm it, then quietly pressed his hands together.
“I’ll start a fire.”
Asahi gathered some dry wood from the corner of the shrine. It was stubborn and damp, but after several strikes of the flint, a small flame finally took hold. The scent of woodsmoke spread, lightening the heavy, humid air.
The flames charred the wet wood, crackling and popping. Koyoi held his hands over the fire, feeling the heat return to his frozen fingertips. With every flicker of the flame, the shadows on the walls danced. He could feel the Wind God shivering in his pouch, reacting to the sound of the storm outside.
“...What a storm,” Koyoi said, looking out the entrance. A curtain of rain had blotted out the forest. It sounded like a waterfall.
“...No,” came the Wind God’s voice from inside the pouch. “...This isn’t just rain. Someone... is being made to cry.”
“Who?”
“...The Rain God.”
Those words made Koyoi’s chest tighten. The path ahead led to the pain of yet another god. He looked up at the sky. Was this violent downpour actually the god’s tears?
“...The Observers?”
“Maybe,” Asahi said, his eyes fixed on the fire. “They try to control even the weather... by force, if necessary.”
The sound of the rain began to sound like a scream. Koyoi hugged the pouch tight. Outside, a faint flash of lightning lit the forest, and Koyoi felt as though another cry was hidden in that burst of light. If someone was crying, he couldn’t just leave them. He tightened his fists in front of the fire.
“We’ll head out once the rain lets up,” Asahi said quietly.
Koyoi nodded. Even if he couldn't reach the god beyond the rain yet, his heart was already there. His next destination was decided: someone was calling for help, and he had to go. He closed his eyes, clutching the pouch, and thought he heard the Wind God whisper a small, “Yeah.”
Asahi stood up and glanced at the rain. His gaze was distant, fixed on the path ahead. Koyoi steeled himself to look in the same direction. The rain was still fierce, but it would stop eventually.
The night would be long, but the path remained.
The heat of the fire lingered on his fingertips, and he transferred that warmth to his heart. Behind the sound of rain on the roof, he could hear the rivers swelling. Tomorrow, the road would be mud, but there was still a pass to cross.
Koyoi gripped his pouch, preparing to face the Rain God. The scent of rain soaked into his skin and his clothes grew heavy, but that weight became the resolve to accept the journey ahead. Beyond the rain, the silhouette of the mountain emerged faintly.
The road continues.