The planks of the suspension bridge were black, sodden with too much water.
When Koyoi stepped onto them, the wood sank with a heavy groan, followed a heartbeat later by the creak of the ropes. Before the sound could be swallowed by the mist, it pierced deep into her chest. Rain pooled atop the boards and clung to her straw sandals; with every step, cold water licked the spaces between her toes.
The wood felt slick, its decaying fibers yielding softly underfoot, making the soles of her feet feel strangely hot by comparison. Koyoi pulled her drawstring pouch close and pressed down on the knot. A lunar chill seeped into her palm, while the wind brushed light against her back.
Asahi’s back was close.
His shoulders moved slightly with the swaying of the bridge—that movement was her only lifeline. Behind her, Kuon moved silently, matching his breathing and the rhythm of his steps to the oscillation of the bridge.
Countless scraps of white cloth were tied to the rope railings. Washed by the rain, they had turned a dismal gray, their knots tightened by the damp. As her fingers brushed them, the cloth felt cold, the moisture sticking to her skin. Perhaps someone who crossed this path before had tied them here, certain they would never return. Prayers were but light scraps of fabric, yet their knots felt impossibly heavy.
Koyoi steadied her breath and returned her gaze to her feet. The rushing water visible through the gaps in the planks was so close it made her head swim. To fight the vertigo, she braced her core.
"Don’t rush. Listen only to the voice of the bridge."
Asahi’s voice was low, slipping into the cracks in the rain. Koyoi nodded, aligning her stride with the bridge's rhythmic shrieks. The roar of the torrent rose from below, and white foam flickered through the gaps. The scent of the water was not sweet.
It was a mixture of metallic bitterness and rotting wood; a harsh, astringent taste lingered on her tongue. Every inhalation chilled her lungs; every exhalation wetted her lips. The wind nipped at her damp skin with a stinging prickle. Koyoi blinked once, shaking off the raindrops.
But as soon as one fell, the next arrived.
Kuon brought up the rear, his eyes tracking the tension of the ropes. His glassy eyes caught the droplets, glowing with a faint blue light. Koyoi could feel his presence behind her. The fear of being watched and the comfort of being protected warred within her, and the flame in her heart flickered with a small, sharp heat.
Kuon’s breath grew heavy for a single beat, then returned to normal. By that slight shift in weight, she knew he had seen something.
As they reached the middle of the bridge, the wind suddenly died.
The silence of that moment pressed against her eardrums. Only the thick thrum of the river remained, making her own heartbeat sound unnaturally loud. In the next breath, a sideways gale struck her cheek, the rain stabbing like needles. Her bamboo hat was yanked backward, exposing her neck to the chill.
The bridge lurched violently, and the boards beneath her feet shifted. Koyoi’s stomach dropped. When she reached for the handrail rope, the wet fibers slid through her grip, and the sensation in her fingertips vanished entirely.
Inside the pouch, the Wind God shrieked.
Warning.
Reflexively, Koyoi pressed the pouch tight. The Moon God's chill raced through the fabric, and the Waterway God trembled.
「…It's coming. Above… below…」
The voice was thin and cold. Before the words were finished, the roar of the torrent dropped. Deep beneath that muffled sound, something took a breath. Drawn in by that inhalation, Koyoi looked down—and saw it.
The water was swelling upward. Like a wall.
The edge of the wall shimmered with a round light, drawing the raindrops toward it. She felt as if she could hear the sound of the rain being sucked in, and she fought the urge to cover her ears.
The cold air thinned out instantly. Her lungs tightened as she tried to breathe. Inside the pouch, the Moon God shuddered and the Wind God gave a short cry. The Waterway God, though trembling with fear, seemed to be reaching out toward that same watery presence.
"Stop. Get back!"
Kuon’s voice was taut. In the next instant, the torrent leaped toward the heavens. Behind the arc of water, there was a shadow. At its center, a single eye glowed.
Whether it was the eye of the Rain God or the glow of a warding stake, she couldn't tell. Only the sensation of being seen remained, turning the sweat on her back to ice. The eye did not blink, yet it felt as if it were counting the tremors of her breath. Koyoi held her breath and exhaled as silently as she could.
An impact slammed into the bridge from below. The planks let out a splintering crack, and the entire structure bucked upward. Koyoi’s body was thrown into the air; her hands nearly lost their grip. Her stomach lurched, and she felt as if cold water were rising into her throat.
Asahi dropped to one knee and seized the rope. The tendons in his hands stood out, the wet fibers biting into his flesh. The frayed rope chafed the skin of his palms, the sting reaching him before the chill of the rain.
"Get back! Don't let go!"
His roar forced Koyoi into motion. As she tried to retreat, the planks shifted again. The gaps widened, bringing the white foam below even closer. Cold spray lashed her face, stinging her eyes.
The moment she put her weight on the edge of a board, the wood yielded with an ominous snap. Just as she began to lose her footing, a pale moonlight illuminated the path. It wasn't a dazzling glare, but a faint light that carved out the sharp outlines of where to step.
Koyoi placed her foot along that line. Step, she told herself. If she faltered now, the whole bridge would break.
Kuon pushed her from behind. His strength forced her center of gravity back into place. Koyoi missed a breath, a small sound escaping her throat. Her ribs ached.
The knot of the pouch pressed into her chest, the hardness turning into a dull throb. It hurt. But that pain was proof she was still alive.
When they finally tumbled back onto the bank, the earth received them with the solid weight of reality. Her knees sank into the mud, the cold seeping into her bones. Koyoi gasped for air, trying to brush away her wet bangs, but her fingers were shaking too hard to manage.
Asahi looked back once to confirm the bridge was still holding. From the speed with which his gaze returned, she knew they were at their limit.
Kuon wiped the corner of his mouth; a thin, red streak ran through the rainwater on his face. He spoke while keeping his eyes fixed on the bridge.
"…It won't let us across. It is a rejection. Be it the Rain God's despair, or the binding will of the construct."
Koyoi tried to look across the bridge, but the mist blocked her view. She couldn't see anything, yet the presence remained. She felt as if a heavy shadow stood upon the distant cliff. The light of the eye blinked once, and with the next flash of lightning, the silhouette dissolved.
The shadow vanished into the mist as if it had never been there. Even after it was gone, a cold pressure lingered. It weighed on her chest, making her breath shallow.
"…But it's right there."
Her voice was hoarse. Frustration choked her throat. Asahi exhaled a wet breath and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. His knuckles were white.
It looked as though he were gripping his own rage.
"Nothing for it. We detour. Upstream or down—we find a shallow spot."
Kuon tucked his compass back into his robes and tracked the flow of the river. Koyoi readjusted her pouch, steadying herself with the hard sensation of the knot. The rain showed no sign of stopping.
But they couldn't stop either.
The three of them returned to the narrow path along the river, their footsteps softened by the mud. The stones beneath them were slick; occasionally, the dull clack of dry stone mixed in with the squelching earth. As those sounds increased, the terrain began to change.
There has to be a ford somewhere.
Telling herself this, Koyoi kept her mind’s eye fixed on the shadow beyond the mist. As the shrieking of the bridge faded behind them, the breath of the river drew closer. The water was still angry, its voice harsh as it hammered against the rocks. Yet, within that violence, a lighter sound occasionally mixed in.
The difference between where the current shattered against boulders and where it spread thin over sand.
Kuon walked as if picking up those subtle differences; Asahi led the way, choosing only the firmest footholds. Following them, Koyoi clenched and unclenched her cold fingers to make sure the feeling had returned. The chafing from the rope fibers stung her palms, the rain only sharpening the pain.
Inside the pouch, the Waterway God was still trembling. That tremor remained because the other side was still very much alive.
Koyoi exhaled, quietly steadying the flame in her heart once more. She cast one last look at the mist behind her, etching the position of the bridge they couldn't cross into her memory, and then looked forward.
In that moment, the sound of the river grew just a fraction lighter. The sound of bursting bubbles felt closer. It sounded less like stones and more like gravel.
Maybe there is a shallow place.
The moment she thought it, a small warmth returned to the depths of her frozen chest.