Three weeks.
That's how long it had been since she last heard his voice. Since the tea had been poured with trembling hands and soft corrections. Since there was someone beside her at evening prayers.
And the quiet hadn't left.
It wasn't sharp anymore. Not like the first week, where every breath had felt like it might crumble her. Now it was gentler... but deeper. A kind of stillness that wrapped itself around her ribs and settled there, warm and cold all at once.
Yuzume swept the garden path with steady hands.
The stones were smoother now. She'd spent an hour polishing them the other day because it felt like something he would've pointed out. The lanterns were perfectly spaced. She had retied all the charm gates. Even the koi had finally stopped glaring at her for forgetting their feedings.
"I'm getting better," she said aloud, planting the broom like a staff. "Admit it."
The only reply was the river.
She puffed her cheeks and glanced up at the sky.
"You'd be impressed, you know. No fire. No complaints. No cursed rice. The last farewell even got a thank you, and I only stumbled once in the hymn."
A spirit floated by near the garden bell, pausing just long enough to give what she liked to imagine was an approving nod.
She beamed.
Then her smile softened.
"It's just... quiet," she added, more gently. "Too quiet sometimes."
She placed her broom aside and crouched to adjust a loose offering bowl.
"I don't mind the spirits. I really don't. They're lovely. Floaty. Peaceful. But they're not much for conversation."
Another spirit passed, brushing her sleeve with a cold shimmer of air. She offered it a smile.
"It's funny. I used to complain that he talked too much. Always with the riddles and the 'think before you act, girl' nonsense. Now I catch myself pretending to hear his voice just so I don't talk to myself all day."
She sat back on her heels, rubbing her wrist.
"Maybe I'm finally becoming the guardian he wanted. But I didn't think it would feel like this."
The breeze stirred, lifting the ends of her hair.
She looked around the shrine, its soft glow cradled in late afternoon gold. Everything was in its place. The incense trays were set. The charms hung perfectly. The peach blossoms had begun to fall again.
It was beautiful.
And lonely.
She stood and brushed off her robes.
"Well," she sighed, stretching her arms toward the sky, "the spirits won't tend themselves."
One of the windchimes jingled. A small one, tucked by the entry gate. A spirit, perhaps. Or maybe just the breeze.
Either way, she smiled.
"Keep me company a little longer, okay?"