The next day, Tsukimidai lay under an eerie stillness, as if color itself had been drained from the world.
Though the sky was cloudless, no warm sunlight reached the ground. A grimy gray film coated everything, bleaching the landscape to the pallor of bloodless skin. It was the hour of the morning market, yet the streets were empty; even the lingering echoes of daily life had vanished into a void.
The shop curtains did not stir, and no steam rose from the houses. The town sat in silence, like a small animal holding its breath before a predator.
"...The colors are gone. It’s like the world is dying."
Koyoi whispered from the inn’s window, watching the landscape fade like old archival film. The vibrant greens and rustic browns were now charcoal blurs, their outlines wavering. The lake had lost its reflection, turning stagnant, and the obsidian roof tiles had degraded into a dusty gray.
For a moment, she thought she heard the flapping of wings, but it was immediately swallowed by the heavy silence. Koyoi pushed open the door and stepped into the frozen alleyway. At the street’s edge, a child sat huddled, tracing patterns in the dirt with ghost-like fingers. When Koyoi moved to speak, she stopped in terror—the child’s shadow against the stones was translucent, fading away.
"The land's Shinki—its root life force—is being ruthlessly siphoned," Kuon said from behind her. He looked toward the murky sky, his glass left eye blinking with an eerie blue light. "That profane ritual at the summit isn't just taking the Moon God. It’s stripping the very laws of this land for fuel. At this rate, the town will be a mountain of ash before dawn."
Koyoi felt a chill reach the depths of her lungs. The water from the communal well felt unnaturally thin and lifeless. With every step, the soil beneath her feet felt like a hollowed husk. Her chest tightened as a rhythm distinct from her own heart beat violently against her ribs. The gods in her drawstring pouch were screaming; the glass 'Vidro' eyes of the spirits clicked anxiously.
『…It hurts. I’m scared. My body is dissolving into the light…』 『…So sad. No one is here. It’s dark… so cold…』
The Moon God’s thoughts pierced her mind with more clarity than the day before. It was a deathbed monologue—the words of one ready to let go.
『…It’s okay, Koyoi. I don't want anyone else to get hurt. It’s fine if I disappear. Please… just run. Go to a place with happy light…』
"No. I won't let you say that," Koyoi choked back a sob. "There isn't a single god who deserves to just disappear. Please... don't give up."
Hot tears fell onto the cold cobblestones. They were not her own, but the infinite loneliness the Moon God had accumulated over millennia, watching the world from the farthest reaches of the night.
Koyoi remembered being lost in a thick fog as a child. A single, strong beam of moonlight had guided her home. To her, the moon was not merely a lamp; it was the outline of the world, showing lost souls where they belonged. Without it, every traveler would be a permanent stray.
She huddled on the ground, her internal flame struggling against the torrent of sorrow.
"Koyoi."
Asahi’s hand was heavy on her shoulder. His fingertips were stained with mud and blood, but his warmth was the only truth left in this desaturated world. "Don't let those emotions swallow you, or your soul will be taken to the other side."
"...But I can't stand those voices."
"I know. I can feel the chill, too," Asahi said, his voice clumsy but firm. "That's why we’re going to drag that thing out of its cage and return it to where it belongs."
Koyoi wiped her tears and nodded. Asahi’s back, seen in the gathering gloom, looked like that of a guardian striving to support a broken world.
As night approached, the sky turned from gray to ultramarine, then to a suffocating black. When the moon rose, it was malevolent—stained a muddy, bruised red like a bloodshot eye. One by one, the town's lights flickered out. Behind bolted doors, the people waited for the end.
"It's time," Kuon said with mechanical precision. "Tonight, we end the arrogance of the Observers and this cursed moon."
The three set out into the silence. They slipped through the town like ghosts, aiming for the summit's bloody glow. A single dog let out a soul-shredding howl from a distant ruin, echoing the town's collective anxiety.
The forest path was like spilled ink, branches overlapping like claws. Yet Koyoi felt no fear. The gods in her pouch pushed her forward with invisible hands, and the Moon God’s gasping breath began to synchronize with her own heartbeat.
Halfway up, the red moon tore through the clouds, casting a path of blood-like light. It held no mercy, only the scent of agony. Koyoi tightened the laces of her waraji until her skin turned red and stared into the abyss.
"I'm coming," she whispered into the dark. "I'm almost there."
The wind died as the Wind God held its breath for the coming storm. The earth was chilled, and the atmospheric pressure felt heavy enough to crush her, but the flame in Koyoi’s heart burned a fierce, pale blue.
No words were needed between them. Asahi checked his blade; Kuon shielded his "Star-Reading Map" against his chest. Their footsteps overlapped into a single, rhythmic march that sounded like victory.
The path was as sharp as a razor, and the smell of damp earth turned sweet and cloying—the scent of a god’s blood. Koyoi did not falter. She followed her own long shadow into the darkness, casting aside all doubt. The summit was still far, but she could feel the god’s soul through the fingertips of her own.
"I will return with the god," she vowed to her own soul. "Even if it costs me this life."