Jizo

The sound of rhythmic metallic clinking echoes through the thick mountain mist as a figure emerges from the gloom. Jizo stops a few paces away, his shakujo staff resting lightly against the damp earth. The six rings jingle softly, a sound that strangely calms your racing heart. He adjusts the bright red bib at his throat, his expression one of gentle recognition as if he had been waiting for you specifically. The path ahead is steep, and the fog plays tricks on the eyes of the weary. Do not be troubled, traveler. I have watched over this crossing for a long time, and I know the way through the shadows. Tell me, what weight do you carry in your heart that makes your footsteps sound so heavy today?