The mountain watched them leave.
Musha could feel it.
Even after the heartbeat faded beneath the earth, even after the trees swallowed the slope behind them, something remained.
A pressure.
A presence.
Like a hand resting lightly between her shoulder blades.
Hana pulled her down the mountain faster than Musha had ever felt her move.
Branches snapped against their sleeves. Wet leaves brushed Musha's ankles. Hana's breathing came hard and uneven.
"Slow down," Musha said.
"We're not slowing down."
"You're hurting my wrist."
Hana immediately loosened her grip.
"I'm sorry."
But she didn't stop.
Musha heard the fear in those two words.
Not the apology.
The fear.
"Hana."
No answer.
"Grandmother."
Still nothing.
Musha planted her feet.
Hana stumbled to a stop.
"I'm not moving until you tell me why you're afraid."
For several seconds, only the forest answered.
Rainwater fell from the cedar branches.
Drop.
Drop.
Drop.
Hana's breathing slowly steadied.
"You went somewhere you were forbidden to go."
"I know."
"You heard something."
"Yes."
"You touched something."
Musha hesitated.
"Yes."
Hana's voice dropped.
"What did it show you?"
Musha remembered the white light.
The warmth beneath the stone.
A woman's voice breaking through smoke.
She's my daughter.
Musha swallowed.
"My mother."
Hana said nothing.
Musha turned her face toward her.
"She was there."
Hana's breathing stopped.
"On the mountain."
A long silence.
"Before I was born."
Hana finally whispered, "Yes."
Musha's fingers tightened around her staff.
"You knew."
"I knew your mother had been there."
"You knew she was looking for something."
"Yes."
"You knew the mountain knew my name."
Hana didn't answer.
Musha's voice hardened.
"And you still told me it was nothing."
Hana flinched.
"I was trying to protect you."
"From what?"
Hana looked toward the mountain.
Musha couldn't see the expression on her face, but she could hear the tiny tremor in her breath.
"From the truth."
Musha almost laughed.
It wasn't a happy sound.
"Everyone keeps saying that."
Hana looked back at her.
"Everyone?"
"Katsurane."
Musha's hand moved unconsciously toward the pendant around her neck.
"He knows something too."
Hana's silence answered for her.
Musha's jaw tightened.
"Then why does everyone think I can't handle it?"
"Because you're eight."
"I know."
"Because you're still a child."
"I know."
"Because some truths don't make you stronger."
Musha stepped closer.
"Then why does everyone keep lying to me?"
Hana's expression broke.
Only for a moment.
Then she reached forward and touched Musha's cheek.
"Because your mother asked me to."
Musha froze.
The forest seemed to grow colder.
"My mother?"
Hana nodded.
"She came to me before you were born."
"What did she say?"
Hana's fingers trembled against Musha's cheek.
"She told me that if anything happened to her…"
Her voice cracked.
"…I was never to let you search for the mountain."
Musha's heart sank.
"Why?"
Hana closed her eyes.
"Because she was afraid of what would happen if you remembered."
Musha's breath caught.
"Remembered what?"
Hana opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Then—
Thum.
The ground trembled beneath them.
Hana's hand dropped.
Musha felt it through her bare feet.
The same pulse.
The same impossible heartbeat.
Her face turned toward the mountain.
The voice returned.
Not loud.
Not even a whisper.
It simply appeared inside her mind.
Musha.
She stopped breathing.
Hana stared at her.
"What is it?"
Musha didn't answer.
The voice came again.
Come back.
Musha's fingers curled around her staff.
Then it vanished.
Hana grabbed her hand.
"We're going home."
This time Musha didn't resist.
Not because she trusted Hana.
Because she had just realized something.
The voice hadn't sounded angry.
It hadn't sounded threatening.
It had sounded—
Lonely.
By the time they reached the village, the rain had stopped.
Morning had fully arrived.
But the village didn't sound like itself.
Musha noticed immediately.
The market was quieter.
The blacksmith wasn't working.
Children weren't shouting in the streets.
Even the dogs seemed reluctant to bark.
Musha slowed.
"Something happened."
Hana didn't answer.
"What happened?"
"Nothing."
Musha tilted her head.
"You're lying again."
Hana sighed.
"People are nervous."
"Because of the shrine?"
A pause.
"Yes."
Musha remembered the symbol from earlier.
The strange mark painted across the shrine gate.
"What does it mean?"
"I don't know."
Another lie.
Musha heard it instantly.
She stopped walking.
"Grandmother."
Hana turned.
"You're doing it again."
Hana's shoulders lowered.
"I know."
"Then tell me."
"I can't."
"Why?"
"Because if I tell you, you will ask questions."
"I already am."
"And the answers will lead you back to the mountain."
Musha's expression hardened.
"Maybe that's where the answers are."
Hana's face went pale.
"No."
It was the first time Musha had ever heard Hana sound truly frightened.
Not worried.
Not concerned.
Afraid.
"No," Hana repeated. "You must never say that again."
Before Musha could respond, a voice came from behind them.
"She's right."
Katsurane.
Musha turned.
His footsteps were measured, but something was wrong.
His breathing was heavier than usual.
His hand rested on his sword.
"Katsurane," Hana said.
He looked at Musha.
Then at Hana.
"What happened?"
Hana said nothing.
Musha answered for her.
"I went to the mountain."
Katsurane's face became still.
"I know."
Musha's brow tightened.
"How?"
"I felt it."
"You felt the mountain?"
"No."
His eyes narrowed.
"I felt you."
Musha didn't understand.
Katsurane stepped closer.
"Show me your hand."
Musha hesitated.
"Why?"
"Your hand, Musha."
She slowly extended her left hand.
For several seconds, nothing happened.
Then—
A thin white line appeared across her palm.
Hana inhaled sharply.
Katsurane's expression changed.
Not fear.
Recognition.
Musha noticed.
"You know what that is."
Katsurane didn't answer.
"Katsurane."
His eyes remained fixed on the mark.
"Where did you get it?"
"The mountain."
"What happened?"
Musha hesitated.
Then she told him.
The vibration.
The voice.
The light.
The memories.
Her mother.
She told him everything.
Except one thing.
She didn't tell him that the voice had asked her to come back.
She wasn't sure why.
Perhaps because she didn't trust him enough.
Perhaps because some part of her wanted to keep one secret for herself.
When she finished, Katsurane was silent.
Hana looked like she might cry.
Musha waited.
Finally, Katsurane asked:
"What did the voice call you?"
"My name."
"No."
His voice sharpened.
"What did it call you?"
Musha frowned.
"Musha."
Katsurane closed his eyes.
For the first time since she'd known him, Musha heard something she had never heard from him before.
Fear.
It was buried deep beneath his breathing.
But it was there.
"What?" Musha asked.
Katsurane opened his eyes.
"Nothing."
Musha's fingers curled.
"That's another lie."
He looked away.
Hana whispered, "Katsurane…"
He raised a hand.
"Not here."
Musha's head tilted.
"Why?"
"Because there are ears everywhere."
A cold silence settled between them.
Musha listened.
At first, she heard nothing unusual.
Then—
A footstep.
Far away.
Near the western road.
Then another.
Then another.
Musha's expression changed.
"Katsurane."
He looked at her.
"There are people outside the village."
"How many?"
Musha listened.
"One…"
Another heartbeat.
"Three."
Another.
"Five."
Katsurane's hand tightened around his sword.
Hana whispered, "Who?"
Musha shook her head.
"I don't know."
Then she heard something else.
Metal.
A blade being drawn.
Katsurane heard it too.
"Inside."
Hana didn't move.
"Katsurane—"
"Inside, Hana."
His tone left no room for argument.
Hana grabbed Musha's shoulders.
"Come."
Musha didn't move.
"Musha."
"Who are they?"
"I don't know."
"You do."
Katsurane's eyes narrowed.
"I don't."
The footsteps outside stopped.
All of them.
Musha's breathing slowed.
Someone was standing directly beyond the tea shop.
She could hear them.
Not moving.
Not breathing heavily.
Just waiting.
Then—
Three knocks struck the wooden door.
Tok.
Tok.
Tok.
Hana's hand tightened around Musha's shoulder.
Katsurane slowly drew his sword.
The blade whispered free of its sheath.
Musha had never heard him draw it that quietly.
A man's voice came through the door.
Calm.
Polite.
Almost gentle.
"Good morning."
Nobody answered.
The man continued.
"We're looking for someone."
Katsurane stepped toward the door.
"Leave."
A pause.
Then a soft chuckle.
"We were told you might say that."
Katsurane's grip tightened.
Musha listened harder.
There were more people outside.
Much more.
Hidden beyond the walls.
Behind the tea shop.
Across the street.
On the rooftops.
She counted heartbeats.
One.
Two.
Three.
Four.
Five.
Six.
Seven.
Eight.
Nine.
Her stomach tightened.
Ten.
Eleven.
Twelve.
She stopped counting.
There were too many.
The voice outside spoke again.
"We only want the girl."
Hana's breath caught.
Katsurane stepped fully between Musha and the door.
"You'll leave this village without her."
Silence.
Then the man said something that made Katsurane's breathing change.
"We know who she is."
Musha's heart began pounding.
The man continued.
"And we know what woke beneath the mountain."
Katsurane's sword lifted.
Musha whispered:
"Katsurane…"
The door shook once.
Not from a blow.
From someone placing a hand against it.
Then the stranger spoke softly.
"Open the door."
A pause.
"Or we'll come in."
Musha felt the white mark on her palm begin to burn.
She looked down.
The line was glowing.
And somewhere beneath the mountain—
Something answered.
Thum.
Katsurane heard it.
His face went pale.
The stranger outside laughed.
"Too late."
Musha's breath caught.
The voice beneath the mountain whispered inside her mind.
They have found you.
The door splintered.