The coarse sand shifted beneath Mokou's feet as she walked down the final slope. She shielded her eyes and looked ahead at the wide open plain, stretching all the way to the mountains in the far horizon.
A few shrivelled plants had pushed through the dust and the cracked earth. It was the most greenery Mokou had seen in months.
It was easy to spot the only other person nearby, even if they were little more than a black dot in the distance. Mokou wiped the sweat off her brow and walked into the desert to meet them.
Although she must have heard Mokou's approach, Eiki remained kneeling in the dust, hands clasped in prayer, her Rod of Remorse laid horizontal on her legs. Her uniform was the plainest Mokou had yet seen: a simply cut blue dress with short white sleeves and black shoes. Even her crown had lost most of its ornaments: only a single loop of ribbon remained.
Mokou came to a halt next to her. She looked around, ignoring the sudden gust of wind that whipped both the dust and her hair into a frenzy. Some parts of the ground had an almost bluish tinge to them. She wondered, but didn't ask.
High above, the stream of souls, a cloud formation that mostly resembled a floating river, moved sluggishly but inexorably forward, twisting and rising before vanishing beyond the ashen sky.
"Did I ever tell you that I was once a jizou?"
Eiki's voice was little more than a whisper in the wind. Even so, it had a stone-like solidity to it.
Mokou considered the question. "It's possible." It didn't sound familiar, but it felt right.
Another flurry of wind swept across the desert.
"Hmm." Eiki's mouth barely moved as she spoke. "I can't remember what I meant to add to that."
Mokou sat down next to Eiki. She leaned back, staring up at where the sun was obscured by the passage of souls. "So. You went back to the Ministry?"
"Yes. I'd rather not discuss it."
Mokou nodded. She wasn't here to judge. "Am I right guessing sentient life's coming to an end?"
"You ask very difficult questions today. I'm not supposed to divulge that information, but you already know the answer."
"You're right." Mokou took a deep breath. The oxygen in the depleted air was enough to sustain her, but only thanks to Eirin's drugs and millennia of practice. "What could possibly live here now? With no new humans, there can be no new gods or youkai. It's just small stubborn beasts and us ancient relics now. And I'm sure all who can will get bored soon enough and leave. One way or another."
"I'm really not at a liberty to say. Not yet."
"I know. It's fine." Mokou looked at the empty horizon next to the mountains. Far away, beyond the dried sea, she thought she saw a lone tree.
She turned back towards Eiki. "How are you holding up?"
Eiki unclasped her hands and blinked at Mokou. "I'm sorry?"
"It can't be easy, I mean. The way things are, there probably isn't much to do for an enma. Or a jizou, for that matter."
"Not all of the world is a wasteland yet."
"I know. Still."
Eiki finally turned to face Mokou. A deep scar like a crack in a slab of stone ran across the right side of her face. Though whatever had caused the wound ought to have blinded her, both of her eyes appeared unharmed. Their gaze was as piercingly luminous as ever.
The more things changed.
"I thank you for your concern," said Eiki.
They fell silent as the wind washed over them once more.
"As it happens," Eiki continued. "Your name has come up fairly often at the Ministry recent times. Yours and those of your associates."
"Is that a good thing?"
"I believe so. And quite curious, as well. My colleagues avoided mentioning you for a very long time. Until recently, the words 'people of Hourai' hadn't been uttered in official Ministry context for over forty thousand years."
Mokou snorted. "That's all?"
Eiki smiled. "And before that, they hadn't been uttered by someone other than myself in more than fifteen hundred thousand years."
"That's more like it."
"This isn't set in stone, so please don't take it as the plain truth. We discussed the possibility of relocating the three of you elsewhere once this world becomes otherwise devoid of life."
"What world were you thinking of? Hell?"
"You wouldn't like that." It took Mokou a moment to decipher the sudden sheen in Eiki's eyes as sadness. "Rather, we spoke of a world beyond the Ministry's jurisdiction. You aren't within the scope of our judgement as it is, after all. Should we find a dimension willing to receive you, you will almost certainly be able to continue your existence more comfortably there than here."
Exist rather than live, Mokou noted. When had she slipped out of the order of living things? Or had Eiki merely meant it as a synonym?
Either way, she didn't ask. "Do we have a choice in the matter?"
"If it comes to pass, it will be a favour, not an order. You are free to both negotiate with us and to refuse altogether." Eiki clasped her hands again. "It isn't a pressing issue at present moment. I brought it up now to give you more time to make your decision should the choice be offered to you. Share this knowledge with your friends when you next see them."
With that, she returned to her prayers.
There were many things Mokou could have asked. What else had been said about them at the Ministry? Did Hell even exist any longer? What exactly was Eiki doing here in the middle of nowhere? Who was she praying for, and why?
Instead, she asked nothing. She re-arranged her legs, leaving them casually half-crossed, and voiced the most concrete thought to cross her mind. "I know I have committed an abundance of sin."
"Yes, you have." Eiki's eyes flickered half open. "How could you have not? All living beings accumulate sin, and you have lived for so much longer than most."
Ah. So Mokou was still a living creature, after all.
"With that said... your path forward is clear. You will inevitably find yourself burdened by karma, but that doesn't prevent you from doing more good than ill. Make amends, and then move forward with the lessons you have learned. Do good deeds to outweigh your sins. Be kind. This is... the good deed you can do right now."
Eiki's eyes shut once more. The audience, if it could be called such, was at an end.
Mokou stood up, but she couldn't bring herself to leave. She watched the praying enma, watched the flutter of her eyelids and the near imperceptible movement of her lips.
Then she knelt back down and wrapped her arms around Eiki.
The gesture was enough to distract Eiki from her prayer. She jerked her head upward. "Mokou?"
"It's nothing." Though the air was hot, Eiki's body was like ice. Mokou held on tighter. "I just wanted to say... thank you."
It was a single expression trying to make up for hundreds of thousands of years of quiet resentment and lectures ignored. But perhaps it was better than nothing.
Eiki sighed and placed her hand on Mokou's left arm. Though the rest of her remained as cool as ever, her fingers were warm. "No. Thank you, rather."
Mokou let go. Now that the moment had passed, she felt a little foolish. They would meet again, after all. Probably.
Actually, she didn't feel that foolish. "I'll tell the others what you said."
Eiki nodded. "Thank you. Travel safely."
Mokou left her to her prayers.
It only took the Ministry two more decades to contact us. I had half expected them to invite us over, but instead, they sent a delegation of three enma, all midnight-coloured uniforms and sombre expressions.
We listened to their offer in silence, then politely declined. When we explained our reasoning — that generous though it was of them to allow us to dwell in a livable land once more, it was ultimately just delaying the inevitable, and in the grand scheme of things not by that much — they looked at one another like they had expected the response all along and got up to leave. The tallest of the three told us we could always change our minds, in a tone that suggested she knew we wouldn't. She then followed the others into the wasteland as if they intended to travel the entire distance back to Hell on foot.
I don't believe I'm longer capable of feeling regret now that my emotions are as diluted as smoke scattered into space. Even so, I sometimes wonder if we made the right choice. A temporary reprieve is still a reprieve, and we'll have all eternity to get used to dwelling in dust.
So it goes.
Whatever the case, we never saw a single representative of the Ministry again.
Perhaps it was by chance that Eiki wasn't with them. Or perhaps she had already crumbled to dust, or whatever it is that happens to former jizou when their time comes. I didn't ask.
I sometimes think back on that strange person who worried about my karma, who worried about everyone's karma, and who showed her boundless love with endless warnings and scoldings. That person who had no reason to care for me and did so anyway.
Wherever she went, I hope she found peace.