Kaonashi watched as Megami worked on yet another painting, this time of the bridge crossing the Kohaku towards a large field she'd cleared out in the forest on the other side.
There would be a city there, someday, she told it. She often spoke of cities, often wondered aloud how long it would take for others like her to come along. She doubted she was the only one.
Kaonashi doubted it too. She was too kind to be lonely, she deserved another human. It didn't know the word she'd used to describe herself, but it did understand the urges she was forced to suppress for so many years. It was not human, and so she could not properly enjoy its presence, no matter how hard it tried to provide for her.
She was shorter than it now. It didn't know why, but she had shrunk, and no longer did she bother cutting her whitening hair. She walked with a hunch now, carrying a stick to keep her standing, but she never went far anyway, so the cane often remained untouched at the side of her bed.
The wood house was old and showed its age in the creaks and groans that constantly came from it, and it knew that the bridge was unstable. It had been so long since she'd built anything, most of the newer additions were constructed by her companion now.
And yet, her skill with the brush had not diminished. Every stroke was purposeful, every color chosen was exactly what was needed. It once wondered why she had started painting its mask into the bottom right corner of every painting even when it was not in the area, and she'd simply told it that it was a signature.
It didn't know what a signature was, but it liked the thought that she cared enough to put its face into each of her creations, which now lined the walls of the house and rested in piles in a room built entirely for the purpose of storing them.
She painted often, sometimes landscapes, sometimes Kaonashi, sometimes her own reflection in the water. The supply of paintings were filling up the space now.
"Ah." it said, concerned over the rapidly decreasing storage. It would need to build another room soon.
The woman looked at it, smiling, her face noticeably wrinkled now, the edges more defined as her mouth lifted. She was not as energetic as she was when she'd given it the mask. Now, she was slow in her movements, and often it needed to touch her for her to notice its presence.
"What's wrong, Kaonashi?" she asked, her voice hoarse and hacking as she laughed. "I know it's just a mask, but that blank face of yours always makes me smile. I wish I could hide my emotion as well as you."
It knew that her happiness over the years had diminished. It pained her to move now, and despite her efforts to hide it, Kaonashi could see the sadness in her eyes. Why was she like this now? Was she sick?
The unchanging spirit didn't understand. It was the same as it had always been. It was not hunched, it was not wrinkled. It was full and solid now, its spindly arms and legs holding up a thick, tube-like body, the mask resting at the top over the mouth it still saw as disgusting.
She still never complained about its ravenous appetite. It could eat ten times what she did and she'd do nothing but laugh at its hunger and give it another serving.
It watched her carefully, taking in any slight movement of her face as it listened to her speak of its mask.
She had given it other gifts, but its face was the one it held closest to it. She gave it a name and face and made it more than a wandering spirit...She'd given it an identity.
For so long it wished to give back to her equally what she'd given to it, but now, it had learned that she had no desire for possessions. Earthly things didn't matter to her, and so it had no reason to continually try to repay its debt.
She'd told it not to bother on multiple occasions. She didn't want its handouts, she got everything she needed from her own work. All she'd ever asked of it was that it not leave her alone.
Loneliness was something both a spirit and a human could understand, it seemed. However, despite that, it still held its hand out to her, conjuring a small pile of seeds in its hand.
She loved growing wheat, before she had stopped because lifting the reaping scythe hurt her back. Wheat was her favorite plant, she once enjoyed strolling through the fields. Surely she'd accept this?
The woman smiled, shaking her head slowly. "I don't need it." she said.
"Ah…" Kaonashi replied, dejectedly pulling its hand back to its body. It knew that would be her answer, but it still felt sad at the rejection. It wanted to help her! She was so slow now, as if its own lethargy had transferred to her.
Was this a product of it living near her? Was it causing her to wrinkle and shrink? It was immortal, it had no concept of time, and so it had never occurred to it that she was influenced by the years.
She smiled, registering its sadness, and stood up, groaning as her bones creaked from the movement, and she set down her painting supplies, making her way slowly to it, before wrapping her arms around its body, burying her face in its chest.
"I don't need anything." she said quietly, smiling as she always did. "Just stay with me, Kaonashi. None of your gifts matter, it's you I want to have."
This wasn't the first time she had said that. But why did she care more for it than she did for seeds? It was a useless spirit, only able to conjure things she didn't want. Why did she accept itself when she wouldn't take the seeds, or the knives, or the skins that it gave her? She needed those things, but she wouldn't take them. They had a purpose, yet she chose it over them. It didn't understand her.
Even after so long by her side, it realized that it still knew very little about who Megami was.
She could have left a long time ago, gone away from her home to wander as it had. She was an animal after all, and it could tell that she'd desired a mate many times, but she'd never acted on it.
Even when it expressed that it would follow her should she leave, she still stayed behind. Was there a reason for wanting to be near this house?
It was just wood and tools, and she didn't care for possessions. What possible sentimental value could there be in this place? It couldn't understand that, but it never questioned her.
She was its goddess, her word was law in its mind. If she wished to ignore her urges and live like this, then it had no right to correct her.
It knew. Even before it saw her unable to leave her bed, it knew that now, she was past her chance of finding a mate.
Now, she was bedridden, unable to do so much as move her hands. It knew that there would be no more paintings anymore. She had performed the last stroke of the brush.
It stood at her bedside, holding a spoon full of food taken from a bowl in its other hand, feeding her as she laid in her bed.
Her hair had started to fall out now, wiry strands that felt rough in its fingers when it cleaned them from her pillow. Her face was pulled back and pale now, almost as white as its mask. Even her hands were bony now, lacking the flesh that she'd once had. Even if she wished to, it didn't think she could actually lift a brush anymore. She was too weak now.
She smiled, her mouth almost void of teeth now, the gaps in her gums larger than those in Kaonashi's.
"It isn't your fault." she said, and it tilted the mask in questioning. She made the effort to shake her head and sighed, resting her head on her pillow and looking up at the slowly decaying ceiling of the house. It didn't know how to maintain wood, so for years the house had been falling apart, much like its friend.
"Ah?"
She tried to laugh, but the only sound that came out was a choked cough. "This is normal for us mortals." she said, smiling. "So don't blame yourself. It's just my time to go, I guess."
Go. Go where? She hadn't even been able to stand without its help for years, and if she tried to go anywhere now, she'd collapse before even getting out of the room. What did she mean by 'go'?
Her smile didn't fade. "You're fading again. It's been a long time since I saw that." she said, nodding slowly, and it turned to look at its own body.
...What had happened? Its body no longer was as solid as before, and it couldn't see its feet.
Its body was as it had once been, when it first gave itself a structured form. The shroud was dark as it went up, but it faded, and by the time it reached the ground, it was completely transparent.
Why had it changed back to this? Why had it lost its solidity?
Megami caught its attention with another hacking laugh. "Sorry to leave you like this." she said. "But I don't think I can stay any longer. I have to go back to my own world, I think."
Her world? Was she returning now? Was this why she was acting like this? Was her body growing weaker to prepare for that?
"Ah?" it asked, its mind whirling as it tried to process the information. Where was she going? What was her world like? Could it come too?
It tossed the spoon and bowl to the side and grabbed her hand with its own, staring at her with an intensity that it rarely showed.
"Ah." it said. It wanted to come too.
She smiled, shaking her head as her hand loosely gripped its own. "Sorry, this is a place only humans can go to." she said. "I'm afraid I'll have to entrust the house to you. Think you can handle it on your own?"
On its own? It didn't want to be alone again! It held her hand tighter as its mind went frantic. "Ah!" it said, pleading for her to stay. "Ah!"
She didn't respond this time, and as it calmed itself, it realized that her grip had loosened, so that her hand was held up only by its own.
It stepped back, letting her hand go and watching as it fell to the bed. So that's what she meant. It understood now.
Even in death, Megami was still smiling. If she could be so happy at the end, then it would be happy for her as well.
It didn't feel happy. She had left it. His friend was gone now, though it could still see her body. It knew that she wouldn't move again.
But it could. It could realize her dream of creating a city here. It recalled her once mentioning that there was no better place to take a bath than just the Kohaku. Maybe that would be its goal now.
It would give her a final gift, one great enough that she would always be with it, though now it knew it was alone once again.
It would build her a bath house.