I drag my feet on the tarmac as we walk down the street in the late afternoon gloom. I shoot in the dead leaves, torn from the plants of the buildings by massive gusts. The wind is strong these days, it doesn't weaken, nor does it force. It's like a typhoon that refuses to come.
I look at my feet, there are always more leaves, that get browner. Soon the street will be covered with them, and maybe the buildings will be naked.

I look at my feet, which I keep dragging. My soles are tired. Sora-sensei would scold me if she saw me doing this. Weaving shoes takes time. Not a lot, but time spent replacing things that are damaged because of lack of care is time that is wasted, where other things could have been done. Sora-sensei would be disappointed, annoyed... But I don't care, I don't have the energy.

I sigh, trying to get rid of my frustration. Hinami at my side sighs in echo, expelling the air from her lungs with an aggressive accent. She almost grunts. I, sigh wearily. I remain silent, my lips pressed together in an acidic line. I ponder, determined.

We turn the corner, stepping over the roots of the giant cherry tree that invades the intersection. You can hear the voices coming from the community hall. We bring in the rice cakes we made this morning. A lot more red bean paste has been added than usual. This is one of the fares that the travelers have brought with them in quantity.

We approach the entrance, the bamboo doors have been unhooked, leaving the door gaping. The warmth of the crowded room envelops us, its sounds filling our ears. Travelers and city residents are mixed together. They chat, they smile, they exchange joyfully, they make faces, they call out to each other at every opportunity. They already know each other. The reserved and ceremonial greetings of the first evening have faded, affinities are developing. Around one of the tables they argue about the road project to Zenshou, some inhabitants helped by newcomers have already started to clear a path and to label the passage to the next valley. They talk about rocks and wood cutting.

The carts arrived four days ago. Since then, time is slow. Since then, the wind blows. I am tired and worried. I wish they would go away.

I tuck my head into my shoulders, sneak over to a table to put my tray down.

- Don't you want to stay a while, Chihiro? Sora-san allows you to, but you and Hinami haven't had much to say to our visitors since their arrival. Aren't you curious?

I step back from the assembly with a smile and a negative head movement. One of Sora-sensei's friends asks her interlocutor to leave me alone. I'm shy, she says, and it's not nice of him to bother me when I'm bringing them food. They laugh.

The witch's huge grey kimono stands out in the crowd. I swallow. I refuse to turn in her direction, but I'm sure that her eyes are following me.

So, I go out as quickly as I came in. Hinami slaloms between the tables and exits with the same haste.

Outside, calm welcomes us, along with the coolness of the evening. I scan the buildings and streets around, and I catch my friend doing the same. We are looking for the same thing: a small, agile, hopping figure.

Shiro has disappeared. He's gone. Not far away, at times I feel him fumbling for my presence. Sometimes I think I see him, like a blurred movement at the edge of my vision.

I miss him.

He misses me too, but he is running away. He is running from the witch.

My feeling of helplessness and incomprehension rises in my throat. I kick a pile of leaves, when Hinami grabs me by the collar.

- Chihiro!

She must have called me several times, and I wasn't listening. She's as taut as a bow, her neck stretched towards the top of the big glass building, which she points out to me. It was a former office tower. An administrative empire, now a lush kingdom. The windows now serve as a huge greenhouse for the trees that have integrated the structure. Some of them are broken, the branches swinging through the openings. You can often hear monkeys, and you can see little spirits on occasion. Shiro likes to play with both.

- What is it? Did you see him?

- Shhhush

I keep quiet. I look at it, at the trees, at the little shadows that come off them and fly away in the gale.

- Don't you hear it?

- Don't I hear what? The monkeys?

- That's just it!

I turn my ear, there is only silence.

Then...

Cracking noises. Slight, disturbing... and the leaves scattering, so numerous... The sun passes behind the horizon. The tower becomes an almost threatening shadow.

- It's just the wind, Hina

The cracking that follows is prolonged, the sound fills in. Then there is a great crash. Wood splinter and breaks, glass explodes, metal twists. The tower buckles and debris rains down. I shout, Hina screams.
I feel myself being grabbed at the waist, thrown backwards, as the dust cloud rushes towards us. The tower collapses. Concrete beams and wrecked trunks smash to the ground, making it quakes, right where we stood a few seconds before.

Shiro has saved us. He makes sure we are unharmed, taking our faces in his hands in turn. We recover from the shock, in the falling dust. I am relieved to see him at last, but his face is blank, inexpressive. Worse, strange: his left side, the one that is always a bit in the shadows, seems to stretch over the rest of his skin, to devour it.

- We have to go away Chihiro, we have to leave. Quickly!

Her voice is cold. Hinami, between two panicked breaths, hiccups:

- Shiro, what happened?

- It's the witch's fault. She broke the magic. She put everyone here in danger. We must leave. Before...

A pale, graceful hand rests on his shoulder and interrupts him. The witch's head appears right above. She has a beautifully made-up face, beige paper lotuses holding her black hair in intricate buns. The vision is not just beautiful, it is horrific. Instead of a neck and an arm, her head and hand are extended by two snakes of white, smooth and boneless flesh. She ignore the fright she inspires in us and respond to Shiro with a polite smile :

- No one here is in danger, don't scare your young friends. It is what you are playing at that is dangerous, young Tsukaima.

Shiro starts to shake, in anger. I step in, despite the reverence and dread she stirs in me:

- Origami-sama, please...

A stone flies in the direction of the witch, cutting through my sentence. She withdraws her hand and with a brisk twirl of her fingers suspends the projectile halfway. Hina spits at her:

- Leave him alone, Oni-baba!

Shiro takes advantage of the diversion to flee in a wisp of breeze. The mage's suspended face is outraged for a moment:

- Such awful manners, young miss!

She stops for a second, her eyes caught by a glow appearing in the rubble. A fire is starting to break out.

- I will not reprimand you this time. I need to use my magic on a more important task at the moment. But trust that your guardian will be informed, and I advise you never to disrespect me again, little mortal.

She calms herself with a sigh, shakes her head. Behind her, the flesh eel undulates. She snake around, moving around us until we find ourselves surrounded:

- Aaaah... you are very lucky. Most of my colleagues would not be so merciful. I have such a delicate heart. The very idea of coercion spells pains me so much.

I swallowed, thinking back, not without fear for my friend, to the pigs in Yubaba's stables, and Zeniba's almost mean-spirited treatment of her nephew. An unexpected touch on my cheek snaps me out of my meandering. Origami's hand caresses it. Her palm is soft, venomously kind. She moves closer to me, her fingers threading through the strands of my hair, but always carefully avoiding my elastic.

- You are the more reasonable of the two, aren't you? Think carefully about what I told you the other day.

She looks sorry, resumes to her reptilian head movement:

- Your companion does not belong here. He is a thief, moreover. He will have to answer for his actions.
I swallow, Hina doesn't dare say anything more either.

- Magical contracts must be respected to the letter, especially in these troubled times. The young age of this Tsukaima does not detract him from his charges.

She sighs again, showing a sadness that seems most sincere.

- This is why I have exchanged messages with my coworkers in Zenshou and Karasutan. The island of the tengus is floating in the region, and when I go back there, your friend will have to go with me. It is not a choice for him, nor for you, nor for me. I'm afraid so.

I open my eyes wide at the end of her lecture. I want to be indignant, I feel Hinami is about to do so. But the witch face is distracted, turns away, and abruptly withdraws.

Sora-sensei rushes towards us, from the crowd that has formed a good distance from the collapsed building. She was looking for us, panicked. Our teacher falls to her knees in front of us. Her hair is a mess, her kimono is stained. She is scarlet-faced and has tears in her eyes.

- The Gods be praised…

Her voice is broken.

- I've been shouting for five minutes! Couldn't you answer so?! Do you have any idea how petrified I was!

Hina and I are speechless. The panic gradually fades from her tone as she examines us from every angle.

- It could have been very serious. Oh girls! The infrastructure security manager will hear from me, you can be sure!

She finishes her inspection by asking us a handful of questions which we answer laconically. She grabs each of us under one arm and straightens us out. We go home, without a word.

I turn around once, perhaps to catch a glimpse of Shiro. I only see the others, lighting lamps and torches. In the middle of the dead leaves, in front of the ruins, stands the specter of the witch in her grey kimono.

We walk silently through the town, the night settling in. When we get home, Sora-sensei sends us to bed. She returns to her desk and her notebooks. We climb the stairs, the moss on the steps muffling our steps. I look out the upstairs window. Here we are away from the big buildings of the city center, but we can still see their glow. Outside, they multiply the lights and illuminate the streets more and more intensely. They will probably inspect the whole night, or evacuate everyone to the lower houses.

Riri, Midori and Mine are already dozed off. I can hear the boys playing loudly in the next room. I unfold my futon in silence, smoothing its folds. I need to think. My thoughts are obsessed with the accident, Shiro's repeated warnings, and the witch's ultimatum. I feel trapped. I go to hand Hinami's futon over. But she is already busy, filling a bag. I whisper:

- Hinami, what are you doing?

- The only thing we have left to do, Hiro. I get us ready to leave.

I remain pensive for a second, then in turn, hesitantly, I grab the bag she hands me. Leaving... four days ago, it would never have crossed my mind...

***

O

n this particular late afternoon, the main square was full of people. The crowd was compact, simultaneously swarming and sensible, their bums seated on the still soaked asphalt of the street. All the tasks had been completed quickly, with impatient excitement, or postponed until later. The kitchen fires were covered, the farm implements tucked away to dry, the rhythms of work silenced.

The attention of all of us was focused on the huge wagon, with its wheels wedged just in front of the storage building. An overhang of planks on trestles extended forward, splitting the human tide in two. The other children, like us in the front rows on the right-hand side, jostled for a glimpse of what was going on behind. Nakamura-san and the travelers stood out like shadows on the canvas screen. They were a mute, meaningless, frustrating spectacle.

The man put an end to the impatient murmurs, pushing aside the cloth. A second person - a human from the troupe - revealed himself behind him, then pulled the curtain back down right after. I linger, his face reminding me of something. This impression was confirmed by a murmur that spreads:

- It's Sahaki-san! He has returned!

Hinami leaned towards me:

- It's weird, he looks much older than the last time we saw him, don't you think?

- Shush, pay attention girls.

Sora-sensei was sitting right behind us. Having brought and set us up in an orderly fashion in front of her, she was organizing her writing materials on the floor. On a wooden tray she took out a blank notebook with rough pages, a brush, a bamboo pen and a pot of ink. All the while keeping an ear out for all of us. A clearing of the throat drew my attention back to the boards, the two men had come to the middle.

- My friends, since we are all here and comfortably seated, we can begin. Some of you have already recognised Sahaki-san. He left the city three months ago and he is the first to ever return. I will let him tell us about his journey. Sahaki-san...

Nakamura-san faded away:

- Hello everyone, I'll just give a sober account, and then one of my travelling companions, Origami-sama, will take over. We will probably stay here for a while, if you agree to host us. Then , we will then be delighted to reply to all of your questions. As I doubt we'll have enough time today to answer them all.

He swallowed, then began to speak, without respite. Their departure, with four other people, had been very difficult. They had felt painfully torn away from the city as they went into the forest. Beyond the undergrowth and the mountain paths, they had found roads, villages, real cities, civilisation. We hung on his every word, as he described spirits, beasts, mages, kami, walking alongside humans in the great avenues. He spoke of commerce, temples, flying islands and magic, magic! He paused, his euphoria ebbing. His tone became sadder, the light on his face dimmed. He conceded, gravely, that none of them found their loved ones. The Disappeared have disappeared, they were told.

A great mournful silence spread over the square. Some gulped, swallowed sobs, stifled their anger. Riri squealed in front of me. She missed her parents so much. Shiro patted her gently on the shoulder.

Sahaki explained that at first they had refused to believe it. They had been chasing great minds for months, looking for information, but to no avail. In the process, they learned a lot about the Collapse. He evaded the subject, arguing that 'Origami-sama' would be better able to tell the story of the destruction of the world.

- Then we went our separate ways. I agreed with the others that it was important to renew contact with you and to propose the opening of a route to the other cities.

Another pause, another look of seriousness, a frown on his face.

- I could never find my way back. I walked through the valleys, looking for the markers left behind. But to no avail. At first I blamed my bad memory, or a mysterious shift in the landscape. I chose to call upon the Kami of the temples of Zenshou, the first town we passed through. They agreed to take me seriously only because other people from here had come to make the same request months, even a year before. The story went around the region and soon teams of nomadic traders, cartographers and enumerators were involved in your search. Then, I met Origami-sama. With her help, we discovered that our city, Kokonashi, the city of nowhere, was indeed there but inaccessible, protected from intrusion and view by powerful magic. Magic that distorted the space outside, but also the flow of time for you.

The crowd became a little less quiet, dozens of murmurs blended together, making the air hum. Magic? The scratching of wood on paper fell silent behind me as Sora-sensei stopped her note-taking. I turned towards her, feeling the back of my neck tickle. Her gaze was not on me though, no, but in front of me. Set on Shiro's back, which was stiffening as the talk went on.

- Origami-sama is a very powerful mage. After weeks of work and days of walking, she was able to detect the spell that was hiding you and break it. And here we are.

As if this last sentence was a signal, Nakamura-san stepped down from the stage, and Sahaki-san strode backwards to the curtain on which a huge figure was sneaking. Shiro clambered back abruptly, onto my lap. He tugged at my sleeve, twisting my tunic between his fingers. A disturbing mixture of distrust, anxiety, almost fear, flowed from him to crawl up my back. His hair stood on end and poked my cheek.

- Chihiro, we have to go.

- What? What's wrong?

- She broke the barrier!

Sahaki-san pushed aside the drapery. I then stared at the one for whom my friend had so much antipathy : the witch. Her appearance brought silence among us. She looked like a paper doll ready to fly away with the first sigh, to melt under the first drop of rain. She pulled back her huge crumpled hood and a curtain of fine black hair flowed down her back to her feet like a waterfall of ink. She began to hem her outfit, revealing a white arm, delicate as a glass rod. She was a huge, fragile statue, carved from the purest jade, wrapped in countless layers of silk paper. She meticulously rolled up the last of her sleeves, bowed ceremoniously in greeting. Her back remained perfectly straight, she had the grace of a young tree bending in a breeze.

Her smile was charming, her milky skin shimmering with a benevolent halo. Her painted eyes, on her flat face, inspired trust...

She was elegant and theatrical.
A fish-headed spirit also appeared. It stared at us from its left profile, with only one round eye visible, its mouth stretched skyward with a haughty air, its gills open, its branchias spread out in a corolla around its lack of neck. He came to sit behind his koto, at the edge of the stage. At the first notes played on the strings, Origami-sama unfurled a pair of fans.

- Mukashi mukashi

The accents of the voices of Japanese theatre flowed from his narrow throat with accuracy. Their high-pitched tremolo made Hina's teeth grind. The singer's gaze wandered among us, pausing in our direction. Shiro's breath caught in his throat, he became perfectly still. We were so far away from her, two small dots in the crowd, yet the spirit was sure she was staring at us.

Suddenly dozens of sheets of paper flew out of the witch's collar, her operatic voice and the koto's tune filling the space as a mask of white folds covered her face. Then the pages flew up in swirls down the avenue corridor. They folded with the noises of ruffling feathers and spun above us. Little by little, they formed streams and images.

This was too much for my friend, who leapt to his feet and disappeared across the square and behind the buildings.

***
T

hat day, as he was running away. I should have followed him immediately. But I sat in the square, reprimanded by Sora-sensei. In the evening, Shiro had returned. I should have listened to him, I should have understood him. We would have gathered the essentials and gone into the forest. I hadn't dared. I thought of Riri, of Sora-sensei, about me : small and vulnerable in the middle of all these big trees. Then the witch had also come to find us at dinner. Shiro had run away again.

Yet, we are planning to run now, strengthen by our resolve, our bags on our backs and our best shoes on our feet. A four day difference, it shouldn't be a big deal…

But now that I stand outside under the dark sky with Hinami, I am left with bitter remorse.

The leaves fall by the hundreds, black on grey in the half-darkness. Their discreet tip-tap when they touch the ground is the only noise that reigns in the absolute stillness. Even the wind died down. The air is stagnant, heavy and moist. In the distance we hear the din of another tower collapsing. In the red and yellow shine of the rising flames, concrete walls and dead trunks are crumbling. The smell of decay, mixed with the smoke, clogs our throats and thickens. We cough. Someone shouts:

- Fire!

We turn to one end of the street and then the other. Hina faces the city and I face the rice fields... and on both sides, rise the rumours of the blazes.