The first tremor was small, creating ripples in the surface of Akiko’s coffee. She picked it up in both hands, enjoying the warmth of the cup and savouring the rich aroma, an another tremor shook the flat, the rattle of the windows an alarm. Akiko looked around as it died down, but there was no sign of damage.

The next tremor threw her to the floor, sending the table sliding across the room to smash into the windows in a cloud of broken glass. The tatami matting was rough under Akiko’s cheek, scraping her skin as she slid along the floor. She tasted fear in her mouth, and panic rose from her stomach to clutch at her throat. The floor shook again, and Akiko smelled gas, strongly.

Pushing herself to her feet, she tried to run for the door, the ground as unsteady as the deck of a ship at sea. The hallway was dark, and for a moment her searching hands could not find the lock or the handle. The door stuck as she pushed, and the terror that she might be trapped gave her the strength to push harder, forcing it open.

Sunlight poured in, filtered through thousands upon thousands of dancing motes of liquid gold, the dust of the city thrown into the air. The crunching and screeching noises of collapsing buildings drowned out any other sound, and Akiko searched for safe footing among the rubble as she tried to get away from the building.

The gas explosion was too loud to be heard, the wave of pressure throwing Akiko to the ground, hard against a fallen tree, its branches digging into her stomach. She tasted metal in her mouth, and spat the bright crimson of blood onto the tree as the heat from the fire reached her.

The pain in her stomach was intense as she tried to push herself to a standing position, her feet slipping out from under her. A shadow fell over her, and she looked up.

Supported on a pinnacle of rock thrust high out of the ground, its sides gleaming new where they had been ripped from the earth, was Tamao Shrine. The sun reflected off the warm orange of the copper roof, and the leaves of the trees still caught the light, dancing green as if there was no crisis, no urgency at all. At the very edge of the spire stood the torii, shining white. For a moment, the shrine hung still above her, and Akiko could hear the whispers of the leaves.

Then the rock shifted with a scream almost human in its agony, and the earthy smell of a forest floor washed over her, quickly followed by the stench of rot. The torii tilted towards her, and rocks poured out in front of it. Akiko could only stare as they seemed to form a staircase suspended in the air; she could see a path to the torii, stepping from one plummeting stone to another.

And then the lowest stone struck her.