6 :Confronting the Shrine (1)

Ren stood outside his house, cold night air nipping at his flesh. He'd spent the previous loops testing, failing, and verifying the horrid reality—there was no escape, no stalling the inevitable reboot. The shrine was his last lead, and tonight he was going to approach it.

He moved ahead, his pulse regular but forceful, bearing the burden of his tireless repetition. The road to the shrine was not long, but the quiet of the streets ensured that each step rang loudly. He had traversed these streets a thousand times before, but this was not like those times. This time, he knew that the world would wipe out what transpired tonight.

The grounds of the shrine were empty, bathed in the faint light of flame-lit lanterns. The cold wind swayed the trees, the leaves sharing whispers he couldn't decipher. The same old wooden hut was in front of him, modest but now bearing an overpowering presence.

Ren paused before walking on the stone pavement to the honden—the central shrine hall. He had noticed individuals pray here before, and although he never believed much in it, he chose to adhere to the common practice.

He reached into his pocket and produced a 5-yen coin, the only contribution he had. He took a deep breath and dropped it into the donation box, the metallic ring echoing in the silence. Next, he bowed low twice, clapped twice, and placed his palms together.

What do I even pray for?

A way out? An answer? A sign?

Why is this happening to me?

Ren's eyes closed, slow breath blown out before bowing again to bring the prayer to an end. For what seemed like an endless moment, only the rustling of his own breathing remained.

Then—

The shrine bell pealed.

Ren tensed. He'd never touched it. There wasn't a gale strong enough to make it shift. Yet, it did, the ringing voice echoing in the air as though a mere whisper from a sight unseen.

A cold shiver crept down his back. He spun around, looking. Nothing. No one. But the tension in the air had changed—something was different.

His heart began to pound as he made the decision to leave something behind, something that wouldn't erase. He dipped into his pocket and produced his pen. Kneeling beside the wooden pillar opposite the honden, he dipped the tip of the pen into the wood and inscribed a single word.

"Ren."

A plain name. A trial.

As he stepped back, the wind came suddenly through the shrine, giving him a shiver. He sensed that he just did something worthwhile.

He backed away and moved on, quicker this time. His senses roared for him to run away, but he didn't venture a look at his back.

Darkness crept.

6:42 PM.

Ren stirred in his bed, his heart racing. The familiar ceiling was before him, the suffocating cycle still in effect.

But his hands weren't shaking due to that.

It was due to the fact that the smell of incense was still on his attire.

Something had shifted.

For the first time, Ren had left a mark on the loop.