The shrine felt heavier.
Not louder. Not busier. Just... heavier. Like the air had thickened, pressing gently against her shoulders whenever she walked the grounds. Like the stones in the garden had sunk a little deeper. Like the doors creaked more, now that no one else was around to oil them.
Yuzume hadn't slept much.
She still did the morning chants. Still swept the lantern path. Still placed offerings beneath the cedar tree. But everything took longer. Everything needed to be redone. Everything felt off.
On the fourth day, she burned the rice.
On the fifth, a wayward spirit got tangled in the windchimes and accused her of sabotage. She cried in the kitchen afterward, then tried to laugh about it through her tears.
By the sixth day, she forgot the prayer for the passing. Twice.
The spirits didn't say anything. They never did. But she could feel it. The way they drifted around her more slowly. The way they glanced toward the shrine, then back at her.
They were waiting for her to grow into it.
Just like he had said.
But it was harder than she thought.
She had done most of it before. Lit the incense, fed the koi, arranged the flowers, sang the farewell hymns. But back then, there had always been a voice behind her. A look. A soft breath of approval or that quiet little hmm of disapproval. Something to anchor her.
Now it was just her.
The tea didn't taste right.The lanterns looked too dim.The water didn't sparkle as much under the moon.
She tried smiling through it. She even tried talking aloud more often, like he was still beside her.
"That one's crooked again.""I know, I'll fix it."
But the silence never answered. Not even with a breeze.
And she was tired.
Not spirit-tired. Not veil-sick. Just... tired. In the bone-deep way of someone holding it all together because there's no other option.
That night, she sat by the river with her feet in the water, watching the ripples try to carry the moon away.
She picked up a pebble and tossed it.
It skipped once, then sank.
"I don't know if I can do this," she whispered.
The wind rustled the lavender nearby.
She waited.
Then nodded to herself.
"I'll try again tomorrow."