Chapter Text
The cicadas are singing as Tam climbs the mountain, their sound filling his ears until it almost drowns out the thunder of a waterfall nearby. The path beneath his feet is worn smooth with time and lined on either side with crumbling stone, so even in the near-perfect darkness of the night he can feel where to step. Around him, the heat is stifling.
He’s been walking for at least an hour, he thinks. Perhaps longer, since the sun was bright when he set out. He won’t make it back to the nearest town tonight, much less Tokyo. It’s alright—he’s slept in worse conditions before.
The path under his feet turns into small stones, and he just manages to think that the waterfall might be getting louder before the trees open up around him and spit him out into a clearing. Tam blinks for a moment, disoriented, as his eyes slowly adjust to the light of the moon and stars—he can faintly see the outline of the waterfall, glittering under silver light. It tumbles into a stream by his feet, and a beautifully arched bridge carries the path to the other side. When he lifts his gaze upwards, he can see a huge torii gate perched on top of the cliff, partially obscured by the trees.
A small smile works its way onto his face.
Whoever maintains the shrine must do work here more frequently, because the path is clear of fallen leaves, and as it gets steeper it transitions into smooth stone steps, similarly free of any debris. The air smells faintly and inexplicably of the ocean.
He pauses in front of the torii gate, cracked with time but recently repainted maple-leaf-red. The wind rolls in from the west, bringing that same strange mix of scents, saltwater and ancient trees. For a moment, he swears he can hear Linh’s voice, and then it’s gone.
Tam blinks and finds himself halfway through the gate, a hand absently placed on one column. Beneath his fingers, it’s cool against the summer air. He shivers and pulls away, stepping fully onto the shrine grounds.
It’s relatively simple in design, just the torii gate, chōzuya, and haiden. A few crumbling stone lanterns line the path. He crosses the grounds carefully to the chōzuya—there’s no ladle, so he makes do by dipping his hands in the water.
That finished, he walks to the haiden and bows once, then again. It’s been years since he last stepped foot in a shrine, his parents much too occupied with keeping him and his twin up-to-date with the modern world—but, well. It’s not a memory that leaves easily. He claps his hands together, bows again, and asks for permission to stay the night.
Since he’s not immediately teleported, bitten, knocked out or otherwise, he assumes the shrine’s local deity has deigned to grant his wish. He’ll investigate who exactly tomorrow, along with any reliable means of communication, and therefore connection with his sister. For now, he finds a clear spot on the veranda, just next to a tree, then leans against the trunk and tries to fall asleep.
When he wakes, he wakes to a ghost.