Mio danced. Not the perfect, floating dance of a shrine maiden. She danced like someone who had bled, waited, and grown feathers in secret. She stomped, spun, and tore at her own sleeves. Feathers flew into the night.

Aki and Mio walked down the mountain path together, side by side. Aki’s jacket was gone, replaced by a worn haori she had found in the shrine’s remains. Mio’s feathers had fallen out overnight, leaving only faint white scars like lightning on her arms.

The bell had not rung in three years.

“Someone had to,” Mio said. “Even without the bell, the dance slows it. But tonight… the rhythm fails. I need the bell. I need you.”