Sayo awoke before her alarm. The morning light filtered through thin paper curtains, delicate and pale. Her fingers still clutched the paper crane as though it had become a part of her body overnight. For a long moment, she lay still, watching the pattern of light shift across her ceiling. The dream—the goddess, the flame, the haunting gaze—still hovered like mist in her thoughts.
She sat up slowly, startled to find the paper crane whole, undamaged. Not even crumpled.
Her mother knocked gently on the door. "Sayo? You're up already?"
"Yeah," she replied. "I couldn't sleep well."
Her mother opened the door slightly, peeking in with a cup of miso soup in hand. "Bad dreams again?"
Sayo hesitated, then nodded. "Just... strange ones. Not bad exactly."
Her mother smiled with quiet sympathy. "Maybe you've been reading too many ghost stories. You always did have a vivid imagination."
Sayo didn't argue. What could she even say? That she'd met a goddess in her sleep and held a crane that refused to burn? That she'd felt a memory stir in her chest that didn't belong to this life?
She dressed slowly, her fingers brushing against the paper crane nestled safely in her bag. She wrapped it in a soft handkerchief and tied it shut before slipping it into the small pocket of her school satchel.
Downstairs, breakfast was quiet. Her mother chatted about errands and her father's promotion while Sayo barely heard a word. Her thoughts were already elsewhere.
---
The walk to school was quiet. Cherry blossoms, still in bloom despite the late season, drifted like snow through the morning air. Kyoto always felt like a city balanced between centuries. The present buzzed in the distance, but here—on side streets filled with moss-covered shrines and aging paper lanterns—the past never truly left.
She reached the school gate just as Ren was walking in.
"Sayo," he said, falling into step beside her without greeting.
She glanced at him. His tone wasn't surprised, but there was a quiet urgency in it.
"I dreamed of fire," he continued.
She stopped.
He turned toward her.
"It was a village," he said. "One I've never seen before. Burning. People running. There was a woman—she looked like you. And a crane. I tried to catch it, but it turned into ash in my hands."
Sayo stared at him. "I had the same dream."
Ren looked both relieved and unnerved. "Then it wasn't just me. There's something weird going on."
She nodded. "After class. Meet me at the west gate."
He didn't ask why. He just agreed.
---
School passed in a blur. Sayo couldn't focus on history or grammar or even the bento box her mother had packed with sweet pickled plum. Her thoughts circled endlessly around the dream, the paper crane, and now, Ren.
She caught glimpses of him across the room—his eyes distant, his hand clenched in a way that made her think he might be hiding something, too.
By the time the final bell rang, she was out of her seat before the teacher had even finished dismissing them.
Ren was waiting.
"I know a place," he said. "It's old. There's a bookshop behind the covered market. I think we can find something there."
---
The market was half-abandoned, the stores a mix of forgotten antiques, herbal medicine shops, and old vendors who no longer chased profit but stayed out of habit. They passed beneath a rusted sign in kanji that read: "Tomiko's Book Nook."
Inside, it smelled of paper and dust. Hundreds of books lined every shelf, and more were stacked in precarious towers across the floor. At the back sat an old woman with a blue shawl wrapped around her shoulders.
Ren bowed. "Obaasan. Do you still keep the section on forgotten shrines?"
The woman raised her head slowly. Her eyes narrowed.
"You again," she muttered. "Always asking about things better left buried."
Ren gave her a half-smile. "We just want to learn."
She didn't argue. Instead, she waved a wrinkled hand toward a corner near the back.
Sayo followed him, stepping carefully around scattered tomes and old calligraphy scrolls.
"What is this place?" she whispered.
"My grandmother brought me here once," he said. "She told me there were books even the temples had forgotten."
They reached the section. A shelf full of myth, legend, and handwritten journals. Ren pulled down a worn volume with a silk ribbon tied around its middle. The title was faded, almost unreadable.
Sayo opened it slowly. The ink was brittle, the characters sprawling and old. But one word jumped out clearly:
Yomi.
The land of the dead.
She turned the page. There, sketched in faded brushstrokes, was an image of a shrine burning beneath a red moon. Paper cranes flew from its flames.
She gasped. "That's it. That's what I saw."
Ren leaned in. "It says something here… about lovers caught between realms."
He pointed to a passage. Sayo read aloud:
"Two souls, bound by fate but sundered by fire. One carries memory, the other carries guilt. Only by finding the shrine again can they return to what was broken."
She looked up. "Ren… I think this is about us."
He didn't speak, but his eyes held hers.
"Izanami," Sayo whispered. "She said I must choose. But I don't know what that means."
---
As they stepped outside the shop, a strange wind passed between them. Warm. Scented faintly with ash and flowers.
On the street ahead, a single crane flew past.
Not a real one.
A paper crane.
Sayo broke into a run. "Come on!"
They chased it through alleys and side streets, winding deeper into the old city than either had ever gone. Finally, it landed at the foot of a tiny stone stairway, half-covered in ivy.
Above it stood a forgotten torii gate.
Beyond it: a shrine.
Not large. Just a small wooden structure nestled in overgrown bamboo. But unmistakable.
Sayo stepped forward. Her heart pounded.
Ren caught up beside her, breathing hard. "This is it, isn't it?"
She nodded. "It has to be."
They entered together. The shrine was silent, empty. At the center sat a small stone altar. Upon it: a folded paper crane. Not white. Not black. Red.
She picked it up.
A whisper filled her ears: Remember.
Suddenly, the world tilted.
---
Fire.
A village screaming.
She stood in a kimono, her hands bloodied. Someone shouted her name: "Hotaru!"
She turned.
A boy stood across the flames, his face half-burned, reaching for her. "Don't leave me again!"
She ran.
But just before she reached him, the world shattered into embers.
---
She collapsed back into herself, gasping. The crane fell from her hand, turning to ash.
Ren was staring at her. "I saw it too. My name… my name was Akihiko."
Sayo clutched her chest. "What's happening to us?"
He shook his head. "I don't know. But I think we were meant to find this place."
She looked up at the altar.
A second crane had appeared.
This one gold.
She reached for it.
The sky above the shrine darkened.
And somewhere, deep beneath the earth, a pair of divine eyes opened once more.