Since leaving Tsukimidai, the sky hadn't relented for even a heartbeat.
Low clouds pressed down, and the dampness formed a thin film on her skin. With every step, Koyoi's cuffs grew colder, and her own breath curled back under the brim of her straw hat. The scent of wet earth carried a metallic tang, sharp as rusting iron.
Though it smelled of rain, a burnt bitterness lingered on her tongue, leaving her throat feeling strangely parched. The mountain stream had swollen since yesterday, rushing between stones in a white froth. The sound of water striking rock thrummed deep in her stomach.
Koyoi tucked up her hem, testing the slick stones with her feet and shifting her weight with care. Each time her wet sandals sucked against her skin and rubbed her ankle bone, a dull ache radiated through her. Her toes were frozen, and her nails tingled with numbness.
Asahi halted. The pre-storm wind howled through the branches, as if hollowing out the forest.
Koyoi felt the wind's echo as she pressed her fingers against her drawstring pouch. The cloth was cold and stiff. Though the rain hadn't yet begun, her shoulders felt soaked already, and she pulled her collar tight.
"...Don't come any closer. This wind isn't just a storm."
Asahi's throat clicked as he caught his breath. Sweat, not rain, trailed down Koyoi's cheek, and she had no time to wipe it away. Instead of nodding, she set her mouth in a firm line and steadied the light in her chest.
A single drop fell on her nose, cold as a needle.
In the next heartbeat, the rain became a wall of sound. The drumming against her hat intensified, and the scent of mud grew thick. Her sleeves turned heavy, and water wicking up from her hem chilled her thighs.
Muddy water welled up, clinging to her sandals. The roar of the stream deepened as stones tumbled nearby. With every shift of the rocks, her feet felt shaken. The ground began to sink, soft and treacherous.
"Hurry. We need to reach the rock before the ground gives way."
Asahi led them upward without looking back, choosing his path carefully. Koyoi narrowed her eyes to keep him in sight, her breath coming in short bursts. Her foot slipped, and she scrambled to brace herself against a tree. The wet bark was coarse, its coldness stabbing into her palm.
Every lash of rain stole the heat from her skin.
Inside her pouch, three presences rustled with small, agitated sounds. Kuon brought up the rear; though the wind whipped his cloak, he didn't break his stride. He ignored the wet hair plastered to his forehead, his gaze moving incessantly.
His glass left eye caught the raindrops, flickering with a cold blue light. He flared his nostrils, his breath thinning. His steps were uncannily precise, never losing purchase in the mire.
"This isn't the smell of rain," he said, his words like ice. "The laws of nature are rotting."
Koyoi tested the air. A taste of iron lingered in her mouth. Asahi gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on his wet hilt.
He dug his fingers in, defying the slickness.
"Is this the work of an Observer?"
"Likely. They mean to pin us down with the rain."
"They’d even twist the rain itself?"
The three voices were eroded by the downpour, reaching Koyoi as fragments. She didn't answer. Instead, she used her sleeve to wipe Asahi’s hilt. The wet fabric clung to the wood, and her fingertips felt dull. Each time she wiped, water seeped back onto her palm, draining her warmth.
Even so, the slipperiness vanished, if only a little.
Deep within the pouch, the Moon God trembled. It wasn't fear, but a vibration—like glass on the verge of shattering—as it strained to listen. The pulse traveled through the cloth to Koyoi’s chest, weaving a second beat into her heart.
‘...Tears. These are tears...’
‘Someone is still crying.’
‘...The water is trying to flee. It is frightening here.’
Koyoi steadied her breath, speaking above the rain.
"Is there... still a god in this mountain?"
The Wind God spun violently inside the pouch with a sharp whoosh. Rain lashed them from the side, the wind shifting with jarring suddenness. The brim of Koyoi's hat yanked upward, exposing her neck to the cold. It felt as if the very logic of the mountain had been seized and swung around like a toy.
Koyoi felt the light in her chest throb once with heat. The warmth was quickly overwhelmed by the chill, but it didn't go out. Even as her fingers shook, she didn't let go of the pouch.
‘It is not rain. This is rage.’
‘It is being forced to fall. The sky is carving away its own flesh...’
Before the words finished, the water at their feet stirred unnaturally. The stream hesitated, then surged back in a churning vortex. Deep underground, boulders seemed to grind together. Koyoi stopped, straining her ears.
Beneath the rain, another rhythm joined the fray. Heavy. Slow.
With every footfall, the pit of her stomach vibrated. The three within the pouch fell silent, then let out a collective gasp.
"...Asahi, Kuon. Stop."
Asahi looked back, rain pooling in his brow.
"What is it? If we stop, we’ll slide."
Koyoi bit her lip and pointed ahead.
"Something... something big is coming."
Kuon pulled out his tracking disk and held it to the sky. The gold needle trembled with maddened energy. Kuon’s breath hitched for a beat before returning to its rhythm.
"Too many reactions. The entire space... it's being compressed into a single divinity."
Beyond the white wall of rain, a massive shape like a moving cliffside shifted. Its silhouette was as indistinct as mist, yet at its center, a single eye glowed with piercing clarity.
The eye didn't blink. The sensation of being watched crawled over Koyoi's skin, and the sweat on her back turned to ice.
Black cracks spider-webbed around the eye, dripping turbid water in long threads. The water didn't soak into the ground; it seemed drawn back toward the sky, swirling around the shadow. It gathered, forcing itself into a coherent shape. As raindrops were sucked into the mass, the air felt thinner.
The scent was like wet iron and something scorched. Every breath made Koyoi’s lungs creak. She bit her lip to still her trembling. Asahi drew his greatsword.
The blade cut through the rain, the chill of the crossguard sharpening the scent of metal.
"An Observer’s mud doll? Or have they kneaded a god into this shape?"
Trembling, the Moon God whispered that he was wrong.
‘...No. That is the Rain God.’
‘The last remains of the child who once protected this mountain.’
Lightning tore the sky white. In that split second, a single black stake was visible in the shadow’s chest. It was blacker than the rain, swallowing the surrounding light; the sight sent a sharp pain through Koyoi’s eyes.
She knew then—that was the Fixed Wedge.
She remembered the coldness of empty, moss-covered shrines. If they were no longer called upon, they would vanish. Before that happened, they had to be called back. With every step, the giant pulled the stream’s water toward itself.
Raindrops were drawn into its arms, layering like heavy armor. Being near it stifled her breath. Koyoi’s knees threatened to give way, but the Wind God gave a sharp cry, the Moon God grew cold, and the Waterway God offered a small response. Those three presences pushed at her back.
Koyoi hooked her fingers into the drawstring. The wet knot slipped. She searched for the edges with her nails, pulling as if biting into the damp cloth. Pain shot through her fingers, and sensation returned.
The rain made her eyelashes heavy, but that single eye remained vivid. At the bottom of the pouch, the Waterway God gave a small chirp, as if counting the giant's breaths. The moon's chill flowed into her palm. Asahi shifted half a step forward, acting as her shield.
Kuon tucked the disk back, measuring the distance with his glass eye. He didn't look away from the giant.
Their breathing was ragged. The light in her chest was small.
But it wouldn't go out.
"Let’s save them," Koyoi said. "We can’t leave that god like this."