Kyoto Station bustled with its usual morning chaos: businessmen in crisp suits rushed through automated gates, students in uniforms clutched onigiri and chatted sleepily, and tourists swirled around information booths with cameras and guidebooks. Yet in the middle of the crowd, Sayo stood completely still.
The gold crane rested in her coat pocket, and beside her, Ren adjusted the strap of his backpack, visibly tense but trying to seem calm. They had bought two tickets to Aso in Kumamoto Prefecture—an eight-hour journey by shinkansen and bus, with two transfers and more time than either of them had ever skipped school.
Sayo's mother thought she was attending a cultural exchange program. Ren had told his grandfather he was volunteering at a mountain temple. Lies, both of them. Necessary ones.
As the train pulled into the platform, Sayo's heart kicked against her ribs.
"This is it," Ren said. "No turning back."
Sayo nodded. "No turning back."
---
They watched Kyoto vanish behind them, a blur of concrete, mountains, and memory. As the landscape unfolded into rice paddies and distant forests, Sayo opened her notebook.
"You think you'll find something?" Ren asked.
She nodded. "I want to trace it. The dreams. The visions. I want to map what we remember, what we've seen—maybe it will guide us."
She drew a rough sketch of the shrine, labeling the trees and altar, then began adding the fragments of their shared dreams: the river with red leaves, the masked soldier, the burning pagoda. Each image haunted her.
"Do you remember the name Hotaru?" she asked, quietly.
Ren hesitated. "Only from the vision. But it felt real. Like it was once mine to say."
She looked out the window. "It was my name. I'm sure of it."
He turned to her. "Then who was I?"
Her lips parted, but no answer came.
---
They reached Aso late in the afternoon. The town was small and quiet, nestled between green slopes and dotted with steam vents from nearby hot springs. The volcano loomed on the horizon, regal and ancient, its peak hidden behind drifting clouds.
Their inn was modest—a wooden structure with sliding doors and tatami floors. They checked in without issue, claiming to be university students on a folklore project.
After settling into their room, Ren pulled out a worn map of the area he'd found online.
"There are at least seven shrines near the base of the volcano," he said. "But one of them—this one—" he pointed to a faded mark labeled Shōen-no-Miya—"has no photos. No official records. Locals say it's cursed."
Sayo circled the name. "That's the one."
---
The hike up to Shōen-no-Miya began just past an abandoned onsen. The trail was steep and overgrown. Brambles clawed at their legs, and the silence deepened the farther they climbed. Even the birds refused to sing here.
After nearly an hour, the trees opened up into a clearing.
There it stood.
The shrine.
Dilapidated and leaning to one side, its roof caved in, its altar buried beneath leaves and time—but unmistakably familiar.
Sayo felt her knees weaken.
"This is it," she whispered.
Ren approached first. "We've been here before. You and I. In another life."
Sayo stepped forward. The air pulsed.
She touched the altar—and the world fell away.
---
She was Hotaru again.
The smell of smoke. The taste of river water. Screams in the distance. She clutched a flute in her hands, blood on her fingertips. Someone ran toward her.
Akihiko.
He was dressed in ceremonial robes, younger, breathless. "You have to leave now!"
She shook her head. "The villagers—"
"We can't save them. If you stay, you'll die."
She grabbed his hand. "Then I'll die with you."
The sky roared. Fire lit up the treetops.
They kissed once, desperate, and then—
The world split apart.
---
Sayo collapsed.
Ren caught her just in time.
"What did you see?" he asked, breathless.
She tried to speak, but tears came first. She grabbed his hand, squeezing it so tightly he winced.
"We died here," she said. "Together. Trying to save others."
Ren was silent. Then he knelt and began digging at the base of the altar. After a few minutes, his fingers struck wood. He pulled out a small box—cracked with age, sealed with black twine.
Inside:
Another crane.
Red.
But this one pulsed faintly.
Sayo touched it—and memories surged.
A fire ritual. A sacrifice. She had thrown herself into the flames to protect something—no, someone. Her village? Her people? A promise?
"I think I was a shrine maiden," she said. "I made a vow."
Ren nodded. "And I was supposed to protect you."
The crane pulsed once more—and unfolded itself.
Within it, a word:
Yomotsu Hirasaka
Sayo gasped. "That's the entrance to the underworld in the Kojiki myths."
Ren looked at her. "Then that's where we're going next."
She looked down the mountain trail, suddenly more afraid than ever.
"Are we ready?"
Ren took her hand. "No. But we're going anyway."