A Prayer in Darkness

Nothing. 

That's all there was to be found. Nothing. 

The perimeter had yielded nothing for either of them. They'd been searching for hours now—two, maybe three. They'd lost track of time. After all, it seemed like time slipped in places like this. Maybe that was part of the trap. 

Akio scanned the area again. No atypical signatures of Mantra had pervaded the area, as far as he could tell. No residual distortions. Just quiet.

Nothing. 

It was strange. If there was truly nothing here, then why had there been a veil to begin with? It made no damn sense.

The terrain was so unremarkable—so tame—that the two of them had decided to split up. Riku still had the talisman, so Akio wasn't worried about him attracting any trouble.

Not in theory.

And yet…

Something felt wrong. Unnervingly quiet.

There was no logical reason for there to be nothing, not after what happened on that rooftop.

***

Riku exhaled—long, tired, deflated. 

Somewhere on the other side of the shrine grounds, he was busy pretending not to be disappointed.

He'd circled the same garden path three times now. Still no signs. No distortions. No movement. Just his own thoughts, chasing each other like stray dogs.

His sneakers crunched against the gravel as he paused beside a half-broken lantern. The shrine felt old but oddly… maintained. As if someone had been here recently. But there were no footprints. No fresh incense. No lingering warmth in the stones.

He sighed again, letting his eyes drift to the weathered wood of the prayer hall.

"Silent God, huh…" he muttered, kicking a stray pebble that had absolutely nothing to do with divine intervention.

He glanced at the sky. Cloudless. Just like his thoughts.

He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking, but his legs had started moving on their own a while ago. The silence gnawed at him—not just in the air, but in his chest.

His mind drifted—again—to Tetsuya.

Tetsuya would've found something by now.

That's all that was on Riku's mind. Tetsuya would have probably figured it out. Said something. Done something. 

The shrine's stillness reminded him of that time. The one argument they'd had as kids that nearly ended their friendship.

"You're always joking, Riku. You don't take anything seriously."

That fight had lasted three days. Three long, awkward days. Tetsuya hadn't spoken to him once during those three days. Until the fourth.

When Riku tripped over the same rock he did when they first met. Tetsuya had cracked the same stupid joke. 

Just like that... everything had gone back to normal.

A small laugh escaped him now. Bitter. Quiet.

"Dumbass…" he muttered. "Guess I'm the dumbass now."

Even with Akio around, the feeling didn't fade. Even with everything that had happened… he felt alone. Alone in a way that silence doesn't explain. Alone like there was something missing in him, not just around him. The kind of loneliness that only comes from remembering what it was like to be understood—and knowing it's gone.

So much for moving on.

For a moment, the ache settled.

He stopped walking. His eyes drifted toward the torii gate.

And then, something occurred to him.

They had just started searching. Like scavengers. Like tourists in an abandoned ruin. No reverence. No process.

He then remembered what he told Akio about the Silent God. A deity that loved people. Gave gifts, resources, and so much more. It was because of humanity's ignorance that it had stopped speaking and giving, and it stayed silent, hence its current name. 

"...he gave them everything—light, language, fire, dreams. But they used his gifts for war. For lies. Thousands lost their way and their lives because they took his gifts for granted. So, he stopped speaking." 

The gifts from anyone, let alone a God, should never be taken for granted.

A gift, no matter its origin, is a moment where the universe chooses to give rather than take. To scorn it is to turn away from grace disguised in another's hands. 

To squander the blessings of a deity, is no different. That's when it hit Riku. That title...

"Echoes of the Silent God – A Collection of Forgotten Prayers."

The Silent God did not answer the cries of those it used to bless. Not after seeing the atrocities human could be capable of. So many prayers may have fallen on deaf ears, or "forgotten", because they didn't deserve to be answered. Those blessings weren't taken the way they should've been. 

The same principle applied to this instance. 

A shrine was never meant to be searched. It was meant to be entered. Properly.

Maybe the reason the Silent God had gone quiet... was because people stopped listening first.

Maybe… just maybe… if he showed even a single ounce of sincerity—

—Something would answer.

So, he did what no one else had done in a long time: He walked out.

And this time… he bowed.

He lowered his head, bowing once—slow and deliberate. The breeze stirred as he did, lifting the hem of his shirt and brushing through his hair like unseen fingers.

Then, he entered with his left foot forward. The traditional customs etched into his memory through observance. 

The moment he passed beneath the gate, the world felt… different. As if the Shrine was finally willing to acknowledge him. The breeze slowed. 

There, just ahead—partially hidden behind a curtain of trees—sat the temizuya, the stone basin for ritual cleansing.

He approached it without words.

Lifting the ladle with his right hand, he scooped the cold water in a single, measured motion.

He washed his left hand, then switched hands and cleansed his right. A bit of the water trickled down his wrist, strangely grounding.

He tilted the ladle vertically, letting the remaining water wash over the handle, dripping down like a miniature waterfall.

At this point, he didn't know if he was doing it right. But even if he wasn't, what more did he have to lose? Not much. 

He returned it to its resting place.

And that's when he heard it. A sound.

A soft, muffled giggle.

His eyes flicked to the basin. For a split-second, the reflection in the water shimmered—not with his face, but a flicker of something else.

A skull. Grinning. Half-submerged.

He blinked. It was gone.

Riku furrowed his brow. "...Great. Now I'm hallucinating."

Still, he shook it off.

Riku exhaled softly, as if something had left his lungs that had been sitting there for years.

The offering box stood at the shrine's center, still and silent. He stepped forward, reaching into his pocket—and pulled out the coins he hadn't used back at the vending machine.

Guess I really didn't want that soda... Thank God.

He dropped the coins into the box.

The clink echoed louder than expected. Like the sound cut through something—not air, but memory.

Riku bowed. Deeply. Then clapped his hands. Twice. The sound reverberated into the still air.

Then silence.

Eyes closed, head bowed, Riku whispered his prayer—not aloud, not even in full words.

What did he even want?

To do well on that Physics test? To have a successful school year? To get into a good college? What even mattered anymore?

Riku stood still for a moment, hands together, head lowered.

And then, quietly—not in words, but in meaning—he began to pray.

Please... I know you don't listen to the people anymore. We've squandered your blessings and have torn each other apart with them... and maybe I don't deserve to even stand before you like this, but for once, I just want to ask...

Please… bring him back. Even if you don't answer me, even if you don't listen to people anymore—Tetsuya was the one who made me believe someone could.He was the only one who never gave up on me. I don't want to be the only one who remembers him.So… if there's anything left in you—any part that still hears...Please. Just this once.

He remained there—eyes shut, fingers trembling slightly.

Then—The wind stopped.

Not slowed.Stopped.

As though the air itself was holding its breath.

A creak echoed from within the shrine hall.

Riku's eyes snapped open.

The shadows shifted. The prayer board behind the offering box seemed to fold inward, distorting like a curtain caught in slow motion. Not tearing—unweaving.

From that unraveling void came… something.

A figure, or maybe a mask, draped in thousands of old omikuji papers—wishes, fortunes, regrets.

Its limbs were made of burnt incense sticks, barely holding shape.

Coins jangled faintly with each step, embedded in its flesh like lost offerings.

Its face was featureless, save for a slit—wide and vertical—like a closed eye.

Riku stumbled backward.

The figure moved—not in steps, but in judgments.It reached forward.

Riku's breath caught.

The thing's touch didn't feel like a hand—it felt like a curse.A ringing entered his ears. Screaming. Not from him. Not from anything living.

Voices. Forgotten prayers. Echoes.

"I'm sorry."

"Please make them stop."

"He's innocent, I swear."

"I didn't mean to—"

"Why didn't You answer?"

"Where were You?"

The Silent God—or what remained of it—was not a deity of wrath.It was a graveyard of unanswered longing.

And Riku had just knocked on the tombstone.

The apparition reached him—and struck.

Pain exploded in his chest, and he was thrown back. His vision blurred—crimson and static. He couldn't breathe. This pain wasn't ordinary. That much he could tell. This was... different. Almost as if all the air in the world couldn't restore his breathing. He felt as if his lungs had vanished. 

Not removed. Just gone. 

So, this is how I die? he thought. Praying to some God that answers to nothing? Just because some fools didn't know how to be grateful?

His vision had blurred almost completely, and he felt the looming presence hang over him. 

Suddenly...

Chains. Glowing, rune-etched chains snapped into view, binding the spirit mid-step. The apparition convulsed, shrieking soundlessly as the ethereal links wrapped around it like divine scripture made steel.

Riku gasped, body still half-slumped against the gravel.

Riku didn't know what would happen after, but all he knew was that his time had been extended. And that alone gave him enough reason to slip into unconsciousness.