Sensation was fading from her fingertips. Her feet seemed to merge with the ground, turning to stone. The wind died, and not a single strand of hair swayed. The flapping of birds' wings, the murmuring of the river—everything remained frozen. Only time was chained here. Koyoi tried to recall the light within her chest, but her hands moved slowly, as if reaching through thick honey. Even breathing became heavy. The sensation of inhaled air coming to a halt inside her chest. A fear spread that if her breath stopped, her heart might stop as well. She recalled the invisible walls of Yamabuki-juku and the heavy mechanical sounds of the abandoned mine. Back then, she had not yet known the meaning of "stopping." Now it was different. To stop meant for life to be sealed away. The wind stops, time stops, and even one's own heart stops.
"...I don't want this."
Koyoi resisted desperately. Yet the more she moved, the more the air clung to her. When she tried to bend her fingers, the tips were pulled back by the air. The more she resisted, the stronger the fixation became. Her body was ceasing to be her own. The grass beneath her feet was hard and did not yield when stepped upon. The air, too, was solid; everything she touched was becoming an "object." The presence of living things grew thin, and the world was transforming into a collection of specimens.
"...Help me."
The God of Wind inside the pouch seemed to be suffering as well. If the wind stopped, the God of Wind would vanish. The mouth of the pouch felt heavy, and the knot felt hard. The small rotation of the God of Wind slowed, and the pulse-like sound faded. Don't disappear, Koyoi cried out in her heart.
A faint warmth remained in Koyoi's palm. That warmth belonged to the God of Wind. It felt as though it might vanish, yet it did not. Koyoi clung to that warmth and recalled the light within her chest.
"Resistance is futile."
The commander approached.
"The fixation rate of this domain is 99%. Even a god is nothing more than an ornament here."
The man in the white suit touched the grass at his feet. The grass did not sway even when touched. He nodded with satisfaction and looked down at Koyoi. His eyes were cold, but they were not eyes of anger—they were eyes of observation.
The man pointed to a bird frozen in the air.
"This bird also tried to flee at first. But now it looks happy. ...For it has attained eternal peace."
The bird's pupils seemed to be looking at Koyoi. It wasn't seeking help. Its face was one that had been robbed of even the capacity to seek help. Koyoi felt a chill down her spine at that expressionlessness. The man's words were polite, his tone persuasive. It was as if he truly believed this was salvation. That was precisely why Koyoi found it terrifying. To rob life of its movement in the name of salvation. If that was the justice of the Observers, then Koyoi's justice was the opposite. Koyoi remembered a time when she was young, running along the edge of a field. The sensation of wind cutting against her cheeks, grass swaying, her feet kicking the soil. Even if she grew tired, even if she fell, there was freedom there. A world that cannot move, no matter how quiet, is not alive. Koyoi layered that sensation over the light within her chest.
"...There's no way they're happy!"
Koyoi shouted.
"To want to fly but be unable to—that isn't happiness!"
"If you fly, you grow tired. There is also the fear of falling. ...Here, there are no such worries."
The man's logic was flawless. So flawless it was mad.
"That's not what you call living."
Koyoi murmured from the back of her throat. Her voice reached the air with a delay and was swallowed up. The man pretended not to hear, but his mouth moved slightly. Koyoi remembered. The mountaintop where the God of Wind was crying, the God of the Waterway who had been trapped, the small gods who had swayed in the darkness. They all desired to move. They wanted to move, to sing, to laugh. To deny that wish was the same as robbing them of life.
"Asahi...!"
Koyoi looked beside her. Asahi was on his knees. He was barely upright, using his sword as a staff. His complexion was pale.
"...Not yet."
Asahi groaned.
"I... won't stop yet."
Asahi's eyes were slightly open. Within his body, which was being fixed in place, only his gaze burned. Koyoi felt her back pushed by that look. She must not stop. If she stopped, she couldn't help anyone. Asahi had said his master taught him, "Do not stop." If the feet stop, the sword stops. The heart stops too. Koyoi remembered those words and tried to move her own feet. Even if it was only a small movement, she would show her will to resist the stopping.
"You really don't know when to give up, do you?"
As the man raised his hand, Asahi's sword began to change color as if rusting. The halting of time. The halting of deterioration. No—this was the "halting of function."
The light of the blade vanished, and the iron became as brittle as sand. The sound of the sword vanished too. Asahi gritted his teeth and endured, still gripping the hilt. Koyoi's throat tightened with urgency, and her breathing became difficult. If the sword stopped, the things it protected would also stop. Seeing Asahi's back begin to stiffen, Koyoi gripped the light within her chest tightly. With only his gaze, Asahi conveyed, Don't give up. It wasn't in words, but his gaze was strong. Koyoi nodded and vowed not to give up on moving. The God of Wind trembled in the same way, pleading that it did not want to stop.
"...Wind!"
Koyoi squeezed the pouch with the last of her strength.
"Move! Please, move!"
"...I want to move."
"...I want to fly."
The will of the God of Wind flowed into Koyoi. I want to fly. I want to run. I want to sing. I want to live.
That fierce desire overflowed from the pouch as heat. The light within her chest touched that heat and grew steadily brighter. In the frozen world, only the light wavered. Koyoi sent a wordless wish along with that wavering. Move. Do not stop.
The heat spread from Koyoi's arms to her shoulders, to her chest, and eventually enveloped her entire body. Her heart, which had nearly stopped, beat strongly once more, and her breath quickened slightly. The heat born within the fixation called forth a fluctuation. The fluctuation became a small ring, spreading from beneath Koyoi's feet. Each time the ring expanded, the grass that had been turning to stone grew soft again. At the sensation of movement returning, Koyoi felt so happy she wanted to cry.
"What...!?"
The commander stepped back. The air around Koyoi began to waver like a heat haze. The wings of the bird that had been stopped trembled just slightly. A single drop on the surface of the water swayed just before falling. A fluctuation was born—the only crack in the fixed world. The commander furrowed his brow and clenched his hand. His voice ordering the Observers behind him to "Increase the fixation rate!" echoed through the air. But that voice, too, arrived with a delay around Koyoi. The fluctuation had begun to spread.
Asahi tried to steady his sword, and his shoulder moved slightly. Koyoi saw that small movement and placed her hand over the light within her chest. Not yet—it hasn't stopped. Still, I can move. Koyoi slowly straightened her knees. Her toes left the ground. The heavy air resisted, but the wind pushed back. A small victory. The fluctuation was surely spreading. Next, it was her turn to move completely. The tip of Asahi's sword shifted slightly, and light began to return to the blade. Koyoi felt a sense of rescue in that light. Things that had stopped were beginning to move. Even if it was small, that movement was hope. Koyoi gripped the light within her chest tightly and gathered strength for the next step. When she touched the grass at her feet, softness was beginning to return amid the hardness. The earth returned warmth as if it were breathing. Heat returned to her fingertips, and Koyoi was finally able to clench her hand. She engraved that sensation into her heart and vowed to move even more. She felt as though the wind whispered Not yet in her ear. The light within her chest wavered slightly. Still able to move. Not stopping yet. It won't end here—absolutely. I won't lose.