The lanterns flickered before she even touched them.
That was the first thing she noticed.
Usually, she had to coax them to light: a small chant, a warm breath, a patient flick of her fingers. But this time, as she approached the courtyard, the tiny flames rose on their own, glowing with a lazy shimmer, as if the shrine itself had decided to take care of it.
Yuzume stood there, blinking, then rubbed her eyes.
Maybe she'd lit them already and forgotten. She'd been a little scattered lately.
Shrugging it off, she moved to the water basin and dipped her hands in. The coolness used to ripple across her skin like silk. Now it felt heavier. Not cold, exactly. Just... dense. Like she was swimming through air thicker than it should be.
She didn't mention it.
The day went on in its usual rhythm. Riku was in the back, fiddling with the storage room, reorganizing the charms, or at least pretending to. She could hear the occasional thump or soft curse when something didn't cooperate.
Yuzume swept the walkway. Tried humming a tune. Forgot halfway through and hummed another. She dusted the altar stones and offered a quick prayer, short, sweet, barely above a whisper.
By midday, she was sitting in the shade beneath the peach blossom tree. It was still blooming, somehow. A stubborn tree, full of petals that refused to wilt.
Riku joined her, carrying two small cups of plum juice.
"You okay?" he asked as he handed her one.
"Of course I am," she said, too quickly.
"You've been a little... off."
"I'm always off. That's my charm."
He smiled. "I mean, more than usual."
She looked away, sipping slowly. "I think the shrine's just being needy lately. Spirits have been restless. Or maybe I'm restless."
He raised a brow. "You? Restless?"
"I can be restless."
"Only when you lose at dice."
She pouted. "That was one time."
"It was three."
She bumped her shoulder into his. He laughed, and for a moment, everything felt normal again.
Later, they cleaned the prayer stones together. She pointed out the ones carved long ago, some so old their meanings had been forgotten.
"Do you think I'll forget things?" she asked suddenly, fingers tracing a worn symbol.
"What?"
"Like... memories. What if they fade, like these carvings?"
Riku paused. "Why would they?"
"I don't know," she said, shaking her head. "Forget I said anything."
But the thought lingered, quiet and strange.
When evening came, they lit incense together. The smoke curled upward like silver ribbons, vanishing into the twilight.
Yuzume stared at it a long time.
She didn't say what she was really thinking.
That sometimes, when the wind brushed her skin, it didn't feel like it used to. That the lanterns had lit themselves. That the river water hadn't shimmered. That the veil shimmered even when it wasn't full moon.
She didn't understand it, and that scared her.
So instead, she smiled, leaned into Riku's side, and said, "Tomorrow, I'm making dumplings. You're helping."
"Do I get to eat them too?"
"If you're lucky."
And the night closed around them, soft and quiet, like a blanket pulled up over old dreams.