My eyes pan out. Lidded and low.
The room is dark. Severe. Bereft of blue sky or shining stars.
Smoke hangs heavily in the air, clouding above as a fog, disguising what lies beyond in myth.
Seated casually on a cushion, one elbow resting on the low table in front of me and holding my chin in palm, I bring my free hand to my lips. A long drag of my new kiseru is had, and a new cloud of fog is added to the sky.
My eyes pan out. Lidded and low.
Three men sit with me, arranged around the same table. Empty save for four cups placed on their rim.
A silence hangs in the air. Tense. Taut like a bowstring pulled to its limit.
Suspicious eyes find my own and are met with a guarded glare before they move on. Each set of eyes scanning another. Searching for weakness. For vulnerability.
None show any, for showing weakness is to invite destruction. All present know that the predators will pounce at the first opportunity. None wants to be the first to fall in this deadly game.
The feel of walking along a knife's edge is unmistakable. The margin for error, non-existent. A single mistake is all that it takes to lose everything.
However, no silence can last forever. I will certainly be no slave to hesitancy.
My lips part. All eyes fall on me. Narrowed in suspicion. In caution. In morbid anticipation.
A sharp inhale echoes out, though I know not from where. Bated breaths tighten as the sound of voice once more fills the room.
"Six. Sixes." The words are spoken slowly. A silent challenge.
My eyes pan out. Lidded and low.
The three men seated with me meet my glare with their own. None back down. None willing to show any weakness in the face of my bold words.
But I can smell their nerve fraying. They did not expect my words. A shift in the air. A rock thrown into a still pond.
The ripples are clear to me. The discomfort of change. Of known quantities being thrown into disarray. Of the world they thought they knew being torn down and shown as the lie it is.
Soft muttering fills the silence. Those who stand in the dark murmuring on my words. They are not speaking to one another. Simply expressing their disbelief with their exhales. A mere hint of words following the whisper of their breath. Only audible in the silence of this isolated world.
The man to my left cracks.
A palm impacts the table, rattling the four cups but knocking none over.
The soft murmurs silence in an instant. The sharp sound of palm on wood being immediately precipitated by silence.
The total lack of sound is almost deafening as all eyes fall on the man to my left.
But he has eyes only for me.
Our eyes meet. His glare is full of unholy wroth, but there is no passion there. It is cold. Biting like arctic winds.
I do not back down. His glare is met with my own. A promise and a threat. A challenge, daring him to speak. Daring him to try. One does not show fear to a predator.
His lips part. The world seems to pull all things towards him. Every listening body finds themselves leaning forward without thought. As if this man's words have a gravity none can resist. No one's attention can fall anywhere else. Not when everything is at stake. Not when Fate hangs in balance.
"You lie." The accusation hangs heavy in the air.
My eyes pan out. Lidded and low.
All eyes are on me once more, but none move. Not even the rise and fall of their chests, as if all are afraid that merely breathing will tilt the scales.
I feel the weight of Destiny on my shoulders. The certainty that this moment will define the future. The knowledge that two paths lay before me. That I had already chosen which to walk. That now I can only watch and see if my choice was the right one.
I do not speak, for words are not needed. Nothing said could change the future. Not anymore.
I straighten, lifting my head from my fist. With my hand now free, I reach forward, slowly.
My hand lands on the cup sitting before me. Silent under the weight of anticipation.
My eyes pan out. Lidded and low.
Still none speak, yet three hands reach forward, coming to rest on their own destinies.
Glares meet glares. Narrowed eyes passing through one another, meeting suspicion with suspicion.
We move as one. A silent agreement passing through the air. An understanding that now is the time for Fate to be decided. That delay will achieve nothing.
Another sharp breath echoes through the room as all four of us raise our hands into the air at the same time, pulling our cups free of the table to reveal what lay beneath.
Every set of eyes moves in silence, rapidly jumping from one side of the table to the next. Cataloguing what they see. Taking note and moving to the next.
All until, almost as one, they finish.
A ripple passes through the room as everyone recognises the sight before them.
Twenty, six-sided dice lay on the table. Five in front of each of us.
Only six of the die show the number six.
A breath leaves me. Relief sagging my bones and relaxing my shoulders.
I won.
My face breaks out into a wide smile as I leap up to my feet, throwing both hands into the air over my head as I break the previous silence.
"BANZAI!!!"
Immediately, the room explodes into cheers and curses and sound and noise.
The three playing with me all start yelling curses my way, but are soon swept up in the mood and laughing and drinking with the rest.
Around me, men cheer and slap my back and shove cups of saké into my hands. I find myself pulled into the atmosphere, celebrating with them and feeling as if the room itself has lit up.
I almost stumble as a man crashes into me, and I turn to see Yoshikane leaning against me, one hand around my shoulder and the other holding a cup of saké.
"Hahaha! You lucky bast'd! You act'y won! Hahaha!" He punctuates his cheer with another swig of saké, as if he wasn't already drunk enough.
Well, even I am starting to feel a little bit buzzed by now. I've had a lot of saké.
"Of course! Saké-san! I am far too Blessed to be unlucky!"
My words make him laugh, despite the truth of them. He doesn't even complain about the nickname, though, in fairness he might have just not even noticed it. He is very drunk.
That I am even living this life is proof enough that there is no man luckier than me.
"Narauko-dono!" A new voice interrupts my thoughts, and Saké-san turns with me, our attention falling on a rather short, stocky man right as he bows to me. "Words alone cannot express the depth of my gratitude! I am in your debt, Narauko-dono!"
In the face of his seriousness, I just laugh and wave a hand briefly before letting it come to a rest on his shoulder.
"Mah~ mah~, Kanta-san! No need for all that. Business talk can wait for later. For now, let's celebrate!" As I speak, I grab another cup of saké from across the room with my shadow and shove it into his hands. "KANPAI!!!"
Dragged along by the atmosphere, Kanta smacks his cup against my own and starts drinking before he can even think to do otherwise, and I just laugh because he can't hold his drink at all and immediately starts coughing.
With the tense atmosphere from before completely shattered, time starts to flow by, full of cheer and saké and plenty of drunken yelling.
It's great.
"N'roko-tan," I hear mumbled behind me at some point, and I turn around to see a rather fat man with the face of a conman standing there, face contrite and flushed by an incredible amount of saké.
"Denji-san!" I return the greeting with a laugh at the man's state. "Can't hold your saké huh?"
"Bah! Nnnmghhahmn. M'fine," he says, obviously lying. "Jus' go'n' say. Y-hic-uuuuuuu...."
A beat passes and then I just burst out laughing as he seems to forget what he was saying, almost passing out on his feet from the way his eyes slowly blink out of sync.
"You doin' okay there buddy?" I ask teasingly as I poke Denji's cheek.
The act seems to snap him back into focus as his eyes find mine once more, actually seeming properly lucid this time.
"Nguh. Uhuh, yeah." He nods twice as if what he just said meant anything. "You won. Kanna-kan 's all good. All.. square. All... Hm. Mmmmmm..."
"Maybe you should go have a sit down?" I reply with another laugh, to which he actually does nod. So I help him move over to one of the cushions and help him sit.
Once he's down, I grab a cup of water and swap it out with his saké, patting his back as I coax him into hydrating himself.
As I do, I can't help but wonder how I got here.
It started with Yoshikane and I just looking for clues as to where Kanta had disappeared to so that Yoshikane's sword production could resume.
Then we found out that he had apparently fallen deep into debt gambling, so naturally we came to rescue him. But Yoshikane didn't want to just bail him out, because that's a lot of money down the drain.
Thus, we naturally started gambling, and somewhere down the line I introduced everyone to Liar's Dice. A fun, simple game of die that I only remember from seeing it in the greatest movie series of all time.
It was a hit, and then everyone started drinking and well, things kind of just devolved from there.
The thwump of a cushion being collapsed onto draws my eyes away from Denji to see Yoshikane having dropped next to me.
"Narauko," he says, less excitable than earlier and only slurring his words slightly. "You r'ly piss me off."
What an odd thing to say whilst smiling.
"But!" He pauses, a finger raised between us as he stares into my soul. And then he breaks, cracking a wry smile. "Ya done good 'ere. Kan'a-san c'n get back to work now, 'n my family won't complain at me."
Yoshikane nods his head once and then takes another swig of his saké.
I return the nod with a quiet chuckle and also take another sip as my eyes pan out, neither lidded nor low, to look for the star of today's efforts, Kanta.
"I'm happy to help, Saké-san." I absently respond as I find Kanta being peer pressured into drinking more saké. "Now we just need to find out what possessed Kanta-san to start gambling in the first place."
After al, if the cause is not removed then there would be no point to any of this, and if he is in some sort of trouble, then between Yoshikane and I, it shouldn't be difficult to resolve whatever the issue is.
Right?
///
Inari
///
To any passive observers, it must make a strange sight. That of a scarecrow of straw and a fox of radiant silver seemingly conversing together in this unremarkable field.
Inari likes to imagine the faces that these simple farmers would make if they ever learned that one of the scarecrows in their farm was actually such an important kami. It is normally an amusing thought, even if she knows that such a reveal will never happen.
Unfortunately, Inari is in no mood for amusement at the moment. Certainly not after this most enlightening conversation.
"Thank you for sharing this with me, Kuebiko-kun." Inari nods her head respectfully to the straw man, before her expression turns teasing, "It is always nice to see that the Crumbling Prince is as reliable as ever~."
"Inari-samaaaaa," the shy, whining voice of a young boy emerges from the figure of straw at the same time that the old sticks making up its skeleton wriggle slightly as if embarrassed. "Please do not tease meeee. It is embarrassingggg."
Inari giggles at the boy's reaction, a sound that echoes clearly despite her foxy form.
Kuebiko's form does not change in any way that mortal eyes could notice, but to Inari, his pout is clear as day.
So cute~, she thinks, sparing Kuebiko from having to hear her thoughts directly. She can be merciful with her teasing.
Sometimes~.
"Regardless, you have done a good job as always, Kuebiko-kun. I will be sure to inform Amaterasu-Ōmikami of your contributions as always."
Inari notes the familiar burst of nervous joy at her words—Kuebiko admires Amaterasu greatly and is always happy to receive her praise. Inari has always thought it adorable.
"T-thank you, Inari-sama."
Inari nods her head to the stalwart kami. "Now, I must be going. It was a pleasure as always, Kuebiko-kun."
With her decision made, it is merely an act of will that brings her from the Human Realm and back to her room inside of her palace.
She does wish that she could have spent more time luxuriating in teasing little Kuebiko-kun, but unfortunately there are more important matters at hand.
Inari flops down onto a large pillow of stardust, resting her head on her paws as she mulls over it all.
Within the Shinto Pantheon, Inari is actually rather important. It often leaves her busy, as much as she would like to spend all of her time lazing around and playing with mortals.
Well, not that she truly minds it.
She is, after all, the most powerful God within the Shinto Pantheon and one of two who could stand any realistic chance of taking the throne from Amaterasu.
If she truly wanted to give up all of this work and follow her own whim, then there is nothing that could stop her from doing so.
Alas, she has some loyalty to her family. She also does actually enjoy the work. Just a little.
Her position isn't really one of rulership. Amaterasu is the Ruler of Takamagahara and the Shinto Pantheon as a whole, Izanami is the Ruler of Yomi, little Reizei is the current ruler of the Human Realm since they decided to let the humans self govern.
Even the Yōkai have at least a representative type of rulership in that old crow Sōjōbō.
As for Inari? Ruling anything is not to her interest at all, so her position is different.
Instead of leading anything, her job is to ensure the stability of the Realm for Amaterasu. Her job is to know what is happening and where and when and what effect it will have on the Realm.
It's fun. Plus she enjoys spying on people anyway. Mortals get up to all sorts of interesting stuff.
It is just unfortunate that she has little time to enjoy these small pleasures these days.
Kuebiko, the immobile Crumbling Prince is perhaps her most useful subordinate. For although he is incapable of moving from where he stands, that cute little kami has a comprehensive awareness of every single thing that touches land within their Human Realm.
It is extraordinarily useful.
Especially so when he discovers a band of damn Mushin trespassing.
Yahweh has been getting ever more bold as His little war with His own creations continues to grow. She has long heard whisper of Him sending His little war dogs to lands which they are not welcome in order to steal Treasures and Souls that do not belong to Him.
All for the sake of his little Gear project.
The attempt on Mjölnir stands out in particular, almost having brought the Norse, and likely thus everyone else into the mess His creations have started.
Lycaon also stands out. The former King of Arcadia, Cursed to live as a wolf instead of a man for his gross crime against the Divine.
Little Zeus' wroth was hardly a subtle thing as he raged at his Divine Punishment being cut short.
But just as with Thor, his rage was quelled, for few are those who wish to war against Yahweh, no matter how disadvantaged He may seem.
Better that His little war remain a civil one when the alternative is a war across all Pantheons. Only the truly mad would wish to see such a thing.
However, it is easy to tell others to forget wrongs done unto them in order to avoid a war when it is happening to them.
When it is her land? Amaterasu's land? Shinto Treasures and Shinto Souls?
Inari takes a deep breath to calm herself as the burning rage within her causes her Palace to shake and crumble around her.
It is easy to advise from the side-lines. But now that Yahweh has sent some of His Angels into her lands to steal her Treasures?
Well... She just isn't finding herself feeling all too forgiving.
But!
Inari rises, feeling a smile break through her dour mood.
There is always an upside to these things. In this case, His actions serve as a perfectly acceptable excuse for her to finally meet with the most interesting mortal of recent years.
She's even had a rather inspired idea on the matter.
With the likelihood of a greater war breaking out growing larger every year, the various Pantheons have all been militarising. Preparing for the worst.
A part of that involves the movement of Sacred Treasures. After all, it is fine for an artifact to sit at rest out of respect during times of peace. But with war on the horizon? It only makes sense to hand these artifacts out to those who could wield them effectively.
So with a group of Mushin in Shinto lands, she naturally needs someone she can send to treat Yahweh's pets with the appropriate 'welcome' that they deserve. And since the invading party consists of only one with eight wings and a few sixes, it would be excessive to send anyone too strong.
After all, it is far more difficult to sneak a band of Ultimate beings into a foreign Pantheon's territory than just a few High-Class chaff.
By the standards of their humans, the group of Mushin would all be classified as Special Grades, and strong even then. However, she believes that little Narauko will be perfectly able to handle them by his lonesome.
But, facing multiple foes of relatively 'equal' strength in service of the greater Pantheon is surely deserving of a reward, right?
Inari chuckles to herself as her thoughts come together.
Because it just so happens that these invaders seem to be headed towards the Shrine in which Ame-no-Ohabari rests.
The Divine Sword that Izanagi once used to chop poor Kagutsuchi to pieces with also just so happens to have been without a wielder ever since Izanagi passed.
So it would only be natural that the man who averts the tragic fate of such an important kami being stolen away might be awarded the right to wield Ame-no-Ohabari. Especially with a potential war coming.
It seems reasonable enough to Inari, and somehow she doubts that Izanami will voice any objection on the matter.
Perhaps some will speak up about giving a human of all things the right to wield Ame-no-Ohabari, but that is fine. They wouldn't even really be wrong to think as much. After all, Ame-no-Ohabari is powerful. Perhaps too powerful.
Enough that no human could wield it without being incinerated. Not even Narauko could contest against that.
However, Inari thinks that he will surprise them. Who knows what the future holds?
So she is thinking of this as a form of sponsorship. If he does end up disappointing her expectations by remaining unable to wield Ame-no-Ohabari, then it can always be taken back.
The only other issue she can think of is that Narauko has no idea how to swing a sword.
But that is an issue that can easily be solved.
Inari believes that the greatest craftsmen among the current humans of their Realm is a man named Sanjō Munechika. He is also respectfully pious, which is always a helpful thing when she wants a mortal to do something for her.
So when she descends to give little Narauko his quest, she can also simply ask the Principle Clans to commission a sword from Munechika that Narauko may use in interim.
After that it is a simple matter of finding him a teacher, and really there is only one option there.
Inari chuckles as her mind drifts to thoughts of her old friend.
It is only fitting she thinks, for The Strongest Human to be trained by The Strongest Yōkai.
Inari knows that Sōjōbō won't mind. That old crow loves watching talent flourish, and talent is something that Narauko has to spare.
An undignified snort leaves her at the thought.
Not that his talent is any surprise with that audacious woman claiming him, Inari thinks to herself in amusement.
She shakes her head, banishing the thought and allowing her amusement to fade. She should stop procrastinating already.
The truth is simply that she is not overly fond of the Principle Clans. They are so stuffy and serious and frankly? Inari stopped wanting to act Divine centuries ago. She much prefers the playfulness of a fox.
Alas, a certain image must be upheld, and the Principle Clans are the voice of Takamagahara among humanity.
Inari obviously does not really care what the humans think and would happily shatter their perception of Divinity. However, there would be a significant number of knock-on effects to such an action, and Inari is loathe to cause such a headache for Amaterasu.
She already has to deal with enough as the Chief of their Pantheon. So for her? Inari can show some restraint.
It's not like it's much of a chore. Inari is far too old to be bothered by such a thing as having a boring conversation. It would honestly be rather embarrassing if she was bothered.
She isn't an Olympian.
///
Nurarihyon
///
Seated cross-legged at the bank of a pond hidden away deep within a thick forest, Nurarihyon rests, eyes closed. Enjoying the peaceful sounds of nature on his ears, the gentle warmth Amaterasu-Ōmikami so freely shares on his skin, the texture of the bamboo fishing rod held carefully in his hands.
He does enjoy fishing. It is a peaceful hobby, and he finds it rewarding to have success determined by patience and stillness, rather than strength or planning.
A small, barely perceptible vibration informs him that he has gained a fish's attention, yet his heart remains still. Calm. Patient.
The fish within this pond are not the usual mortal flair. They are a cautious lot. Perceptive.
These particular fish even posses, if only in minor, the ability to sense the fluctuations of a man's heart.
Such a trait leaves them in high demand among certain groups. Not that Nurarihyon would care enough about such a small matter.
Regardless of these thoughts, Nurarihyon does not allow his emotions to fluctuate. He remains still. Placid.
Patiently waiting for the opportune moment.
Minutes pass by, and he remains as if a statue. Unmoving. Until eventually, even the ever cautious fish will grow confident.
Nurarihyon's muscles do not tense, for even such a simple action could be 'heard'. His heart remains still, even as his mind prepares for explosive movement.
He only has one chance. He must be quick. Must not let-
Snap.
The sound of a twig breaking pulls him from his almost mediative state and causes Nurarihyon's head to turn in its direction.
He barely spares a moment to recognise the form of Jorōgumo before his attention snaps back to his rod and the unmistakable sight of his prey fleeing father below the water.
"Tsk." Nurarihyon turns to glare at Jorōgumo, who only responds by gently twisting her parasol around. "I know you did that on purpose."
She doesn't respond. Just keeps walking his way.
Kids, he thinks to himself. Only resisting rolling his eyes because he knows that she will glare at him if he does.
Nurarihyon does not bother to stand. He is waiting for a guest after all, so he will be here for a while longer yet.
He simply watches as she approaches, knowing that he will not be catching anything until she settles down.
When she does reach him, he finds his annoyed expression rapidly shifting into a pleased smile as she reaches into her robe and pulls out a grotesque little box covered in human eyes and offers it to him.
He takes it happily. Quickly bringing it up to his face for proper observation.
He finds himself incredibly pleased when he peers at one face of the cube and into the eyes staring back at him.
Specifically, his attention is on the tiny little shadow within each pupil. A shadow of a man curled into a foetal position, though his arms and legs seem more like ideas than actual things.
A strange sight to be sure, yet what but strangeness can be expected from the Cursed corpse of a God?
"Good," Nurarihyon mutters, pulling the cube away and storing it within his own robe. "You have done good. What of the hothead?"
"Jogo-san left." Jorōgumo's voice is as tranquil as always. "He felt that your preparation was unnecessary. That you are overestimating Humanity."
What a pain.
Damn ghosts are so difficult to work with.
Hopefully the Curse he is waiting here to meet will be less annoying of a personality.
In his mind, Nurarihyon has already written Jogo off as a lost cause with Jorōgumo's report. He doesn't fancy the Curse's chances if it is going to pick a fight at the human capital. Certainly not right now.
Not the greatest sense of timing.
Even he would not feel confident walking into that line-up of humans. Though, that does mostly just come from that Shiki woman.
Ah well.
Jogo was just insurance in the first place, so that he could hopefully thin down the enemy's numbers before any Yōkai need get involved.
Well, not that he plans on getting any Yōkai involved in the first place. He would much prefer if he could destroy the Special Grade Sorcerers without a single Yōkai having to take action.
The sound of rustling leaves disturbs the briefly returned silence and draws Nurarihyon's eyes to the side.
Much like Jorōgumo earlier, he watches as a new guest enters his clearing.
He also watches as trees and grass wither and rot away with every step they take. Thankfully for his fishing spot, Jorōgumo is present enough to ensure that the effect remains limited in scope.
Nurarihyon takes a moment to observe the Curse before him.
It is shaped like a boy. A small, human child except that every inch of exposed skin is covered with blisters and pimples, some whole and red, some broken and scarred and some still leaking blackish-yellow pus.
Truly a disgusting sight. Nurarihyon keeps himself from cringing or wrinkling his nose.
The Curse is dressed only in a ragged and torn pair of bright red shorts down to its knees, yet much of its body, including the entirety of its head, is covered by a truly excessive amount of hair. It grows so long that is drapes on the floor behind it like a carpet.
"What..." The Curse's voice slowly rings out, scratchy and worn. It almost hurts to listen to, and Nurarihyon notices Jorōgumo flinch, as near imperceptible as the reaction was. "Do you want?"
Nurarihyon tries to smile. It is not easy to do so.
"Must there be a reason?" He asks, making a conversation mostly out of habit rather than any real desire. "This is a rare chance. Perhaps I merely wish to take the opportunity to meet with you while I can. I was only young when last you lived you know? It is an honour to meet you face to face. The most powerful Cursed Spirit to ever be born, the Smallpox Deity in the flesh, born once again after two hundred years."
A nice replacement for the likely soon-to-be-dead Jogo for position of leadership within the Curses he is gathering.
"Mmmm." With the thing's voice being what it is, that simple acknowledgement sounds almost like it is growling. "I... Do not remember... Who I was... I am not Smallpox Deity... I am... Ekirei." The Curse pauses, pondering. Nurarihyon lets it, even if he almost rolls his eyes at the damn thing naming itself just like Jogo did. "What do you want?"
"To the point then," Nurarihyon says, mostly just happy to bring this interaction to a sooner end. "Two hundred years ago, you fell to Humanity. I have my own reasons to want you to face better odds this time. What I want is to help you. To teach you some Techniques that will make it far more difficult for Humanity to fell you again. All I ask in turn is that you follow my direction only until there are no longer any Special Grade Sorcerers. After that, what you chose to do is your own prerogative."
The Curse does not respond right away. Instead, it simply stares at him. Its attention unwavering.
Neither Nurarihyon nor Jorōgumo fidget under its attention. As with fishing, patience is always important. Especially when dealing with dim ghosts.
To react in any way but patience would invite the damn Curse to act out.
Stability is not exactly something that comes naturally to a Curse.
Eventually however, just as a fish will flee from eagerness and gain confidence from stillness, Ekirei too, only needs the bait to remain still and open before it bites.
The Curse nods once, and Nurarihyon manages to smile in its direction.
Just a bit more, Nurarihyon thinks deep within his heart.
Soon, none of you will have to fear the Humans in the dark.
///
A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!
Fun fact, roughly one third of all Shinto shrines are dedicated to Inari. How fucking insane is that? She's the kami of so much shit too lmao
Literally, Inari is the goddess of foxes, fertility, rice, tea, sake, agriculture, industry, prosperity, worldly success, swordsmiths, craftsmanship, merchants, household well-being, performing arts and friggin safety in traffic.
What a fuckin beast.
Also also, Mushin(無心) means 'Without mind/thought' and Ekirei(疫癘) means 'Plague'