Morning came to the rooftop. The concrete floor of Sunveil Mikagegaoka was faintly bleached white in the thin light of dawn. Six outdoor units roared as always, their deafening noise tearing through the autumn air. On the stone steps in front of the shrine, Honoka sat dozing, her silver hair still unbound. Last night, she had slept a little while borrowing Kazuma's shoulder, but Kazuma himself was already gone. He must have left before his early shift—she'd noticed the moment the weight disappeared from her shoulder, but had simply closed her eyes again. Golden eyes slowly opened. In her field of vision: the familiar gray shrine, a cluster of dandelions blooming in front of it, and an autumn sky slightly dimmed by exhaust fumes. (…Alone again.) The thought caught somewhere in her chest more than she expected. Honoka quickly shook her head. It had been that way for 850 years. Why was she being so sentimental over one night's weight on her shoulder? "Good morning." The iron door opened with a clang. Kazuma appeared. Changed into a convenience store polo shirt, holding a fried chicken stick in one hand. He was dutifully spending fifteen minutes before his shift on the rooftop. "You're late," Honoka said. "Shouldn't that be 'good morning'?" Kazuma replied. "I've been waiting thirty minutes," Honoka said. "It's still early morning. Thirty minutes is an exaggeration," Kazuma said. "By the standards of five hundred years, thirty minutes is but a blink. And yet, thirty minutes it is," Honoka said. Kazuma was about to crouch down in front of the stone steps with a wry smile—when the iron door opened once more. Minase Anri stepped through, wrapped in a deep crimson jacket. Her jet-black lustrous hair caught the morning light and gleamed softly, her sharp eyes sweeping over Kazuma and Honoka in turn. In one hand, a smartphone. When she turned the screen toward Kazuma, numbers were displayed. —3,247. Follower count. "Good morning," Anri said. Anri smiled gently. That smile was refined as always, intelligent, with no openings whatsoever. "Actually, I have a proposal," Anri said. "What is it?" Honoka asked. "Now that we've surpassed 3,000 followers, we should do regular miracle livestreams. Broadcasting at a fixed time once a week. That will solidify faith. If the viewers become accustomed to watching—divine energy will accumulate stably, bit by bit," Anri said. "I see," Kazuma said, nodding. Honoka did not nod. Golden eyes fixed on Anri. Vigilance—the same appraising gaze she'd returned since yesterday, a reflexive wariness toward this woman. That was the first layer. Then anxiety—divine energy at 80 units. At this rate, she would disappear. That was the second layer. Pride—would an 850-year-old deity so easily comply with a human's proposal? The third layer. The scales—but if she disappeared, it would mean nothing. The fourth layer. And then something like resignation—the fifth layer. Honoka exhaled softly. "…I understand," Honoka said. "Then this evening—" Anri began. "Not this evening. Now. Immediately," Honoka said. "Huh?" Kazuma said. "I have been fully prepared for 850 years!! We start right now!!" Honoka declared, puffing out her chest. Overwhelming presence radiated from her entire body. All 850 years of pride were concentrated there. Anri smiled and said, "Goddess, give it your all today," turning toward the iron door— That was when it happened. *Thunk.* Honoka's forehead hit the corner of an outdoor unit. Her semi-transparent body somehow made contact. Her forehead definitely struck the metal corner of the outdoor unit. Honoka let out a small sound and staggered back a step. "Are you alright!?" Kazuma asked. "…The resonance was too strong. That's all," Honoka said. "You resonated with an outdoor unit?" Kazuma asked. "Spiritual interference is unpredictable!!" Honoka said. Anri placed a hand over her mouth. Whether she was suppressing laughter or thinking of something else, Kazuma couldn't tell. "…Let's pretend that didn't happen," Honoka said. "We all saw it," Kazuma said. "Silence," Honoka said. * The livestream began at exactly 9 AM. Kazuma set the smartphone on a stand and tapped the live broadcast button. The numbers on the screen began moving rapidly—within 30 seconds, concurrent viewers exceeded 200, and in less than a minute approached 500. The start was clearly faster than last time. Honoka stood in front of the shrine. Her silver hair caught the morning light and shimmered with a faint glow within its translucent outline. Golden eyes faced straight ahead. One deep breath. Mikagedamyaku—she sensed the thin flow of spiritual energy running directly beneath the shrine, drawing it in through her fingertips. "Manifest," Honoka said. The dandelions blooming in front of the shrine burst into golden light all at once. Each petal contained light, spreading a golden radiance clearly visible even in the autumn morning air. But that wasn't all. The dandelions multiplied. From one plant to two, from two to ten, golden flowers rapidly covered the stone steps, transforming the area in front of the small shrine into a glowing flower field. The comment section exploded. "Is this real!?" "Not CGI!?" "Wait, wait, wait" "The goddess was real" "The dandelions turned gold!!!!" Concurrent viewers surged past 1,200. But in the next moment, Honoka swayed. The sensation of divine energy being depleted—invisible to Kazuma, but crystal clear to Honoka. From 80 to 65. A single dandelion miracle cost 15 divine energy. Her body's outline became slightly fainter. "…!" Honoka said. Honoka reached out her hand toward Kazuma's forearm. Her slender fingers wrapped around his arm and gripped tightly. Kazuma froze. The strength in Honoka's fingers against his arm was—unbelievably weak. Like a feather gently placed. Yet something definitely transmitted through those fingertips. Body heat, or rather, the warmth of existence. The sensation that this small hand was truly here. Kazuma's heart skipped a beat. "I'm not swaying. I'm gathering divine energy," Honoka said. Her voice sounded slightly strained. But she spoke clearly to the camera. The comment section began filling with "The goddess is really close to him" "This pair is precious" "Who's the guy with her" "I'm invested" and more. Honoka glanced at the comments for a moment. "This is tribute in exchange!!" Honoka said. "That's wrong!! Those are 'I like you' comments!!" Kazuma said. "They're offering words instead of tribute!! I understand!!" Honoka said. "You clearly don't understand at all!?!?" Kazuma said. The comment section exploded with "Tribute lol" "So cute" "I'm liking this goddess more" and similar reactions. Honoka moved to the next miracle. She concentrated divine energy on the rooftop fence. Drawing energy from the Mikagedamyaku, she poured it into the rusted metal. The long-accumulated rust transformed into silver before their eyes. A fence spanning over ten meters gleamed brilliantly in the morning light. Divine energy -10. From 65 to 55. The third miracle. Honoka spread both hands toward the roaring outdoor units. The nearest one, the second, the third—one by one, the sounds stopped. When all six units fell silent, silence descended on the rooftop. Only the sound of wind remained. Concurrent viewers exceeded 2,000. The comment section flowed too fast to read. For just that one minute. In the silence where the outdoor units had stopped, Honoka's profile as her silver hair swayed in the windless air—burned itself into Kazuma's eyes. A profile that seemed to contain all 850 years of time within a small frame of about twelve years old. Beyond her semi-transparent body, the autumn sky showed through, yet her presence was unmistakably there. Divine energy -8. From 55 to 47. Honoka's body swayed again. Kazuma couldn't speak for two seconds. * The problem came after that. "Let's end the livestream soon," Anri said. She spoke with a smile. Kazuma agreed. But Honoka was watching the comments. "I want to see more" "Do another miracle!" "Thank you, goddess" "What will you do next"—she read each flowing word with her golden eyes. "I'll do one more," Honoka said. "Honoka, your divine energy—" Kazuma said. "Be silent, worshipper," Honoka said. "I won't be silent!!" Kazuma said. "I decide!!" Honoka said. "That's not your decision to make right now!!" Kazuma said. "A worshipper commanding a goddess!!" Honoka said. "It's not a command, it's a request!! Please stop!!" Kazuma said. Kazuma tried to grab the smartphone. Honoka reached out her arm saying "Don't let go!" Her fingers began to tense— *Plop.* The smartphone fell to the concrete floor. Honoka's divine energy cut out. The moment strength left her body, the smartphone slipped from her hand, and both of them simultaneously looked down at the ground. "Oh," Honoka said. "Oh," Kazuma said. They both scrambled on all fours. Kazuma searched for the smartphone. Honoka reached out—her hand passed through the concrete floor. When Honoka's divine energy dropped, her hands could barely interact with the ground anymore. Each time she tried to grip the floor, her fingers grasped only air. "I can't grab it!?" Honoka said. "Tell me where! Where is it!?" Kazuma said. "Right in front of me!!" Honoka said. "Where in front of you!? Where are you, Honoka!?" Kazuma said. The two of them crawled frantically across the rooftop. Thump-thump-thump-thump. Kazuma searched for the smartphone while Honoka passed through the floor, both crawling at full speed. The comment section flowed in real time. The smartphone's screen remained face-up, the livestream continuing. "???" "What's happening" "Where did the goddess go" "Is this the goddess's perspective now" "So cute" "Wait, this is actually hilarious"—the comment section exploded in three colors. Kazuma finally grabbed the smartphone and stood up. He ended the livestream. "It's over!!" Kazuma said. "…Yes," Honoka said. Only her voice came back. Honoka's outline was barely visible anymore. * Dusk descended quietly on the rooftop. The sharp drop in divine energy didn't stop. The divine energy that had fallen to 47 during the three consecutive miracles in the livestream dropped further in that moment of struggle, and now it was approaching below 30. Honoka's body was disappearing. It wasn't just semi-transparent anymore. Light passed completely through—the orange glow of dusk shone straight through Honoka's body and fell on the concrete floor. Her outline was dissolving. Her silver hair melted into the air, and her golden eyes became impossible to locate. "Honoka," Kazuma said. His voice trembled. "I'm here," Honoka said. Her voice came from the direction of the shrine's stone steps. Her outline was invisible. Not even a shadow could be seen. Only her voice floated in the dusk air. Kazuma moved toward the voice. He extended both hands. He searched the air in front, to the sides, above, as if grasping at nothing. There was nothing. "Where are you," Kazuma said. "I told you, I'm here," Honoka said. A little more to the right—guided by the sense of her voice, Kazuma moved his hand. It was cold. Cold. His fingertips touched something. Honoka's fingers, which had clung to him with warmth just moments before—were now as cold as a winter windowpane. Something sharp pierced Kazuma's chest. (She's disappearing.) That sensation spread through him before it could become words. Just moments ago, she had clung to his arm. The weak strength of her slender fingers was there, and that warmth was real. Now it was cold, invisible, only her voice remained. That coldness pierced his chest. Kazuma searched for those cold fingertips with both hands. He tried to trace her outline. Without knowing where Honoka ended, he continued moving his hands. And as he did, something slowly took shape within him. I don't want to lose her. The nameless emotion finally took on a clear form. Not