We left before sunrise.
The cold hung Low over the fields, touching the rooftops with frost. Rin walked beside me, quiet, her breath clouding in the morning air. She wore a light blue haori over her kimono, tied at the waist with a faded sash. Practical. Simple. A change from her old elegance.
Something had hardened in her while I was gone.
And something in me recognized it.
***
Shuji saw us off with a quiet nod and a folded map he'd marked in ink.
"Start with the river towns," he said. "If the shikigami are moving, people won't name them—but they'll describe what they saw. Listen carefully."
Rin tucked the map away.
As we turned to leave, he called out again.
"Don't ignore the dreams. Not yours. Not hers."
"I haven't had any since I left Genzo," I said.
Shuji's eyes narrowed faintly. "You will."
We passed through the village without drawing much attention.
A few faces I recognized nodded politely. Others looked away.
Everyone could feel it.
Something in the world was beginning to turn.
***
The first town was small—no more than a dozen homes beside a stream, nested in the valley below a worn shrine.
We asked gently. Listened carefully.
No one had seen Tatsuya. But a merchant woman spoke of her son waking in the middle of the night, convinced there was a figure outside their home with no shadow. Another farmer mentioned whispers from the rice fields before dawn.
No one said the word.But Rin and I both felt it.
Shikigami.
And something else, they were moving farther from the center. Spreading. Reaching.
***
That night, we found a small inn on the edge of a quiet town.
The walls were thin. The rice paper screens shifted in the breeze.
Rin sat across from me, brushing dust from her sleeves, eyes downcast.
"You've been quiet," I said.
She didn't look up. "I hear him when I sleep."
"Tatsuya?"
She nodded. "Not words. Just… his presence. Like he's standing at the edge of a dream I can't enter."
I wanted to tell her I understood.
But I wasn't sure I did.
Not yet.
So I said, "We'll find him."
She finally looked up.
And for the first time since I returned, she smiled—not because she believed me, but because she needed to.