The air in Aso thickened as dusk fell, draping the town in hues of molten gold and ghostly blue. The streets emptied early, as if the locals knew better than to linger after sunset. Sayo stood at the window of their ryokan, staring at the volcano that loomed like a sleeping god over the landscape. A low rumble rolled down its slopes, distant thunder that vibrated in her bones.
Ren was lying on the tatami floor behind her, scribbling notes and sketches across his notebook.
"Do you think anyone else remembers?" Sayo asked.
Ren looked up. "Other reincarnated souls?"
She nodded.
"If they do, they're probably too afraid to admit it," he said. "Or maybe they've already forgotten. That's what Izanagi said, right? That remembering is a choice. A risk."
Sayo turned to him. "But why now? Why are we remembering this time?"
Ren hesitated. "Because this is our last chance."
Silence settled between them, heavier than the dusk.
---
The next morning, they took a narrow mountain road east. The crane from the shrine had given them the name Yomotsu Hirasaka, the mythical entrance to the underworld where Izanami had vanished. Sayo had researched it online; though many versions existed, one legend claimed a hidden cave system near Mount Aso had once been revered as a gateway between worlds.
They reached a fork in the trail by midmorning. One path led to a waterfall popular with tourists. The other veered off into untouched forest, choked with vines and tangled roots.
They took the second path.
Birdsong faded. Shadows deepened. The forest closed in around them like a memory.
Hours passed.
Twice, they lost the trail.
By late afternoon, they stumbled upon a clearing. A single torii gate stood there, ancient and crumbling, wrapped in moss and spiderwebs. Beyond it, a slope led downward into a dark ravine.
Sayo stepped forward and the gate groaned.
They descended.
---
The cave entrance was hidden behind a curtain of vines and black stone. It breathed cold air, as if exhaling from the lungs of something sleeping deep inside the mountain.
They lit their headlamps.
The stone walls were carved with kanji—old, nearly worn smooth by centuries of erosion. Sayo traced them with her fingers. "These are prayers. Warnings."
Ren scanned the symbols. "Some are names. Look—Hotaru. Akihiko. It's us."
They walked deeper. The cave widened into a chamber.
At its center stood a stone door.
Painted on it: a black sun, surrounded by a ring of cranes.
Sayo reached into her coat and pulled out the golden crane. It pulsed faintly in her palm, then burst into soft golden light, scattering feathers of light across the stone.
The door opened.
---
What lay beyond was not a cave.
It was a city.
Not of stone or steel—but memory.
They stood on a bridge made of light, spanning a chasm of mist. Below them, shadows swam—scenes from lives long past. A girl singing beneath a sakura tree. A boy practicing calligraphy with trembling fingers. A soldier burning letters in a shrine.
Sayo clutched Ren's hand. "Is this the underworld?"
"No," said a voice. "This is the Between."
They turned.
Izanami stood there, pale as winter moonlight. Her kimono shimmered with ash and starlight. Her eyes were hollow wells, but they held no malice—only sorrow.
"You have come far," she said.
Ren stepped forward. "We need answers."
Izanami raised a hand. "Then come. But know this: truth cannot be unlearned."
They followed her across the bridge.
---
She led them to a floating temple—a palace of memory suspended between sky and void. Inside, the walls changed constantly, showing flashes of their past lives. A battlefield. A ruined temple. A room filled with burning scrolls.
"You were once priests," Izanami said. "Then rebels. Then lovers. Each life brought you closer to something neither of you fully understood."
Sayo watched as Hotaru and Akihiko played across the walls—falling in love, dying, finding each other again.
"Why us?" she asked.
"Because your souls are bound by a promise that predates time. A wish made under a dying moon."
Ren clenched his fists. "And now? What happens to us now?"
Izanami looked at them with something like compassion. "Now, you must face the Gate."
She gestured toward the far end of the temple.
There, a door of obsidian shimmered with flame.
"On the other side lies the truth of your beginning. But truth demands sacrifice. If you pass through, you may lose who you are now."
Sayo looked at Ren.
He nodded.
She stepped forward.
---
The door opened.
They were children again.
In a village no longer standing, beneath a moon that never rose again. Their parents were priests. Their lives devoted to a flame that guarded the world from shadows.
Then the war came.
Sayo watched as soldiers stormed their village, demanding the flame.
Akihiko—Ren—stood to protect her.
Hotaru—weakened the flame to save a child.
And the shadows came through.
A great demon, born of grief and fire, swallowed the temple whole. Only by binding their souls together—through sacrifice, through prayer—did they seal the creature.
But they died in the process.
Over and over.
Reborn, hunted, forgotten.
Until now.
---
The memory faded.
They stood back in the temple. Izanami looked pale.
"Now you know," she said. "The curse was never on you. It was on the promise. To return to that moment. To undo it."
Sayo trembled. "Can we?"
"If you choose. But only one of you may return. Only one can rewrite the flame."
Ren turned to her.
"No," he said. "We go together."
But Izanami shook her head.
"One soul. One wish. One life reborn to change the path."
Sayo stepped forward.
"I'll go."
Ren grabbed her hand. "We'll find each other again, won't we?"
She smiled. "Always."
Izanami nodded. The temple began to fade.
"Close your eyes," she whispered.
"And remember the light."