Dawn arrived, stretching the faint scent of rain across the world. Her shoulders felt heavy, but she could still walk. Standing at the mouth of the cave, the sky was the color of lead, the clouds hanging low.
The rain wasn’t the lash of the night before, but there was no sign of it letting up. Mist clung to her ankles; the chill of wet grass seeped through the soles of her straw sandals. Her breath came in short, white puffs, dampening the inside of her reed hat before curling back to chill her cheeks.
Raindrops struck her lips, tasting faintly of earth. Koyoi retied her hair and wrung the moisture from her collar. The fabric clung to her skin, leaving only a lingering cold. Mud settled into the creases of her fingertips; her nail beds throbbed with a dull ache.
The faint scent of woodsmoke still clung to her back, making the cave's small warmth feel distant. Asahi tightened his sandal laces while Kuon checked the balance of his pack. No one spoke. The sound of breathing and the rhythm of the rain were enough.
"…Are you ready? Don’t lose your way from here on."
Asahi spoke in a low rumble. Koyoi nodded, checking with her thumb that the mouth of her drawstring pouch was tightly shut. The wet cord was slippery, yet the knot itself felt as hard as stone. Her nail caught on the fabric, the sharp pinch bringing reality back with painful clarity.
Inside the pouch, the Wind gave a short cry. The Moon grew cold, and the Waterway took a shallow breath. The three presences remained overlapped, deathly still. It was so quiet it was frightening.
Koyoi swallowed and pressed a hand over the Light in her chest. Outside the cave, the roar of the river was immediate. What had been hidden by the rain last night now rang out like a battle cry—muddy water smashing against rock, the popping of bursting foam.
Koyoi felt her heart shrink at the weight of that sound. It wasn't the sound of water flowing; it was the sound of things being torn apart. Her exhaled breath unraveled in the air, dissolving instantly into the rain.
Through the mist, there were no shadows of white-clad figures. And yet, she felt as if unseen eyes were counting them from the fissures of the world’s Order, chilling the sweat on her back. Kuon’s compass hummed faintly; she thought she could feel the vibration of the needle through his clothes. Water trailing down her sleeves pooled at her elbows, piercing her bones with cold every time she bent her arms.
The path was submerged in mire, and her feet wouldn't lift as she wanted. The mud sucked at her sandals with a sickening squelch. Grit worked between her toes, and her nail beds grew numb with the cold. The wind was a blade against her cheeks, and the raw scent of wet branches stung her nostrils.
When Koyoi almost slipped, Asahi’s arm was there to catch her without hesitation. For a fleeting moment, the hardness and heat of his grip reached her through her sleeve. It was quickly lost to the cold, but that single second allowed her to breathe again.
"Don't overdo it. Just watch your feet."
Asahi spoke without looking back.
"Yes," Koyoi managed from the back of her throat, steadying her breathing instead of nodding. Looking down, she saw thin sheets of water racing over the mud, as if trying to erase the path entirely. By the time they reached the riverbank, the flow was no longer a mere stream.
The black water bellied out, racing downstream with white foam lined up like rows of fangs. Dead leaves and branches spun in vortices, with patches of white stagnant froth huddling in the corners. Through the foam, she caught glimpses of stones being tumbled along the bottom. The sound hit her first; her eyes couldn't keep up.
In the scent of the water, Koyoi caught the bitterness of iron. The damp air lay heavy in her lungs, leaving an astringent taste on her tongue. When she moved her throat, the cold creaked deep in her bones. At the bottom of the pouch, the God of the Waterway trembled.
Because that torrent shared the same essence of "water," its plight reached her heart like a scream.
『…It hurts. I can’t breathe…』
Koyoi composed herself and gripped the pouch with her fingertips. The dampness of the cloth and the hardness of the knot became an anchor to hold the god in place. With every press, the chill of the Moon seeped into her palm, the Wind brushed her back, and the Waterway gave a small cry in the back of her throat. The fear didn't vanish.
But she could keep holding on, even while afraid.
"The Rain God… is further in, isn't he?"
Kuon narrowed his eyes at the mist ahead. His glass eyes caught the glint of the raindrops, blinking with a cold, blue flash.
"The divine aura is too thick. The closer we get, the more the Order will grind against us."
Asahi glowered at the upstream mist and pressed his thumb against the map. The wet paper clung to his finger, making a small tearing sound as he pulled it away.
"There’s an old bridge ahead. If we can't cross it, we have to detour. …But a detour will trip the Net."
The three moved cautiously along the river's edge. The sound of water striking stone grew sharper, and the air grew colder still. There were moments when the wind simply stopped. That single beat of silence clung to the inside of her ears and wouldn't let go.
The wreckage of small shrines lay scattered along the bank, and fragments of sacred straw ropes were plastered into the mud. Koyoi pressed her hands together once. The mud on her palms had started to dry into a gritty crust, and she felt a pang of guilt for the brevity of her prayer. But there was no time to stop.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, the delay of the sound a reminder of the mountain's vastness. Through the mist, a thin line appeared. A bridge. A suspension bridge made of nothing but wooden planks and rope hung precariously over the violent current.
The bridge groaned, wood and rope complaining with each gust. As they drew closer, she could see the frayed fibers of the rope, soaked through with rainwater. If she touched them, they would likely rasp the skin right off her palms. The smell of rotting wood mingled with the air, making her throat feel strangely parched.
Through the gaps in the planks, she peered down at the water—an abyss where the rain was hammered into white explosions. Every time the spray leapt up, cold droplets stung her cheeks and the corners of her eyes. Though the far side of the bridge was lost in the fog, heavy sounds echoed from the depths of the mist every so often. Whenever something moved in the distance, the ropes shivered slightly, a vibration that traveled from the handrail through to the soles of her feet.
Koyoi counted her breaths, inhaling through her nose and exhaling through her mouth to keep the rhythm steady. Her breath was white, vanishing instantly. Because it vanished, she exhaled again. She almost held her breath at the foot of the bridge, but forced herself to let it out.
If she stopped, the cold would win. Something tightened in her chest, and her fingertips gave a single tremor. As she touched the pouch, the chill of the Moon flowed into her palm, and the Wind gave her back a gentle push. The push frightened her. But the absence of it frightened her more. Koyoi shifted her awareness to the soles of her feet, remembering how to find her balance while the ground was still, for the moment, the ground.
"If we cross this… we’ll be closer. Everyone, lend me your strength."
The Moon gave a small response, and the Waterway hummed faintly. Koyoi stared at the bridge, focusing entirely on the sensation in her feet. The ground she stood on now was still the earth. But one step ahead, it was a thing that swayed.
And swaying can claim even the heart.
"Nothing for it but to go," Asahi said.
He stepped onto the first plank to test the swing. As the wood sank, the rope gave a short, sharp creak, the sound swallowed by the mist. Asahi stepped firmly on the first stride but placed his weight lightly on the second. It was the gait of someone reading the bridge’s temperament.
Kuon moved to the rear, taking a position to guard Koyoi’s shoulders. He brushed his fingers against the wet rope to check the slickness before letting go. Frayed fibers and a lingering chill remained on his fingertips.
"One step at a time. Don't trust your center of gravity. …I'll suppress the swaying."
Koyoi drew the cold air deep into her lungs and lifted a foot. The wet plank sank with a groan. The soles of her feet felt the softness of the wood fibers and the hardness of decay simultaneously. The roar of the river surged up to her ears, and the mist curled around her ankles.
As the bridge gave a slight lurch, Koyoi felt her internal organs move a split-second late. She tightened her core. When she reached for the handrail rope, cold water pooled in her palm, making it too slick to grip. She dug her nails into the fraying fibers, catching hold just enough.
"…I understand. Just… place the foot. Don't stomp."
Her voice was eroded by the rain. But saying it aloud made her feet listen. Asahi’s back lowered slightly ahead of her. Kuon’s presence moved just behind her shoulder.
Koyoi grit her teeth and looked only at the next foothold. As she took the second step, cold spray leapt through the gaps in the planks, stinging her eyes. She blinked once and looked forward again.
She couldn't see the end of the bridge. But she would cross it anyway, intending to hear the Rain God’s cry once more. If she fell, that voice would be muddied and lost along with her.
So, she would not fall.