“No one,” she said. “That is the way of the world. Gods die when their last keeper forgets.”
That night, Kaito climbed the mountain behind the shrine. The path hadn’t been used in eighty years. Halfway up, his human lungs burned, but the god part of him felt the ley lines hum underfoot like harp strings. shinseki no ko to otomori dakara
He turned. The air shimmered—a shape like a woman carved from rain and old roots. “Then I won’t forget.” “No one,” she said