The morning sun had not yet broken the horizon, but the world was already shifting.
Aki walked through the old shrine forest, the pendant still glowing faintly against his chest. Hoshikiri followed silently behind him, her steps light, as if she didn't touch the earth at all.
The trees whispered as they passed—echoes of ancient prayers and forgotten names. Aki felt them, voices carried on wind and memory, brushing against his skin like silk and ash.
"Where are we going?" he asked without turning.
Hoshikiri's answer was quiet. "To the Gate of Trials."
He paused mid-step. "Trials?"
She nodded. "Every Chosen must face them. You saw the Celestial Thread… now it begins to test you."
Aki turned to face her. "Test me how?"
"The gods will not interfere. But the thread… it will reveal your greatest truths—and your deepest fears."
He exhaled slowly, his breath fogging in the cool pre-dawn air. "So this is my first step."
"Not the first," she corrected softly. "But the first you take with full awareness."
They arrived at a clearing, ancient stones rising like teeth from the moss-covered ground. At the center stood a stone gate—carved with constellations, half-buried in earth and time. It pulsed with a strange rhythm, like a heartbeat echoing through the sky.
"This is it," Hoshikiri whispered.
Aki stepped forward, and the gate responded. Light bloomed between the carvings, and the world shifted.
In an instant, the forest was gone.
He stood alone in a void of stars.
A single voice echoed in the silence—not Hoshikiri's, not the gods', but his own.
"Why do you still walk forward, Hoshino Aki?"
Aki turned. There was no source, only echoes.
The stars swirled, taking form—his own reflection stepped out, eyes hollow, expression empty.
"Why do you carry a legacy that was never meant to be yours?"
Aki clenched his fists. "Because I made it mine."
The reflection smirked, breaking apart into countless stardust fragments.
Then, another voice—his mother's, soft and aching.
"Will you break, Aki? Or will you become what they fear?"
He shut his eyes. The warmth of her pendant pressed into his chest.
"I don't know yet," he whispered. "But I won't run."
The light pulsed once.
The void shattered.
Aki collapsed to his knees back in the forest, gasping for breath. Hoshikiri knelt beside him, steadying him.
"You passed," she said.
"No," he muttered. "I survived."
She smiled faintly. "That's enough for now."
Above them, the first light of dawn broke through the trees.
And far above, in the Celestial Court, the gods watched—and said nothing.
But Tsukihikari-no-Kami leaned forward on his throne.
"He's changing," the god murmured.
Amaterasu's golden gaze remained fixed on the mortal world. "No… he's becoming."
—To
be continued—