I think that I have broken a promise I made to myself.
All those years ago, under the shade of the one forest I call home, I promised myself that I would not allow this unearned, senseless pride of mine to fall into arrogance.
I must have failed, in that respect.
That is the only thing I can conclude when viewing the shapes of my thoughts during this extravagant procession.
I've never actually attended a funeral before.
Crazy, right?
It's not like people in my life hadn't died before. I'd just... never gone. Too apathetic to make the effort, I guess.
Still, there has always been this idea in my mind of what a funeral looks like, mostly informed by media, I admit.
A coffin or a grave, a crowd of grievers dressed in dark colours as they mourn under the rain—and that last part was especially important. It was always raining.
It's obvious why; because rain and storm clouds are depressing visuals for a sad event.
But death isn't viewed the same here, at this time. And funerals are, like most things involving Nobility, matters of politics.
In other words, it's anything but subtle. The sun is out too, and I'm glad to see Amaterasu paying her respects to those who have passed, even if I never doubted that she would.
Which leaves me watching this procession slowly march to its destination, about a week after the greatest day of my life. I'm not certain of the time exactly.
At the front of the parade is a hundred or so mounted warriors and Sorcerers marching in two lines, Sorcerers on the left and warriors on the right. I'm not certain if that has anything to do with how when one prays, your left hand should be slightly above your right because it represents the kami while your right represents the worshipper.
So it could be them subtly showing that their Sorcerers are above their warriors, or it could just be that someone would have to be on the left and I'm thinking too deeply about it.
Either way, behind the horses is an even longer line of standard-bearers, holding the symbol of the Himejima Clan high and proud as they march. Intermingled with them is a number of women carrying ceremonial swords, magatama and bronze mirrors.
Then there are even more standard-bearers showing four different sets of standards. Representatives from each of the other Principle Clans. There are enough of them together to match the amount from the Himejima Clan.
Behind them is a line of musicians, mostly playing a slow, solemn drumbeat.
The next part of the procession caught me off-guard a little bit, to be honest. Because following the drums is a line of men leading horses and hunting dogs and carrying various birds.
It took me a minute to remember that this is ye olden times, and having a horse is basically the future's equivalent to having a house or supercar when it comes to status symbols.
Either way, behind the animals is where the offerings are, carried by women from all five Clans as well as various commoner women who joined the procession as it passed by their villages.
The offerings have food and weapons, which I pretty much expected, but they also have various ceramics and even farming tools like scythes and stuff.
I feel like I'm learning a lot by being a part of this all, which is very cool.
Then finally we get to my assigned seat, where the Ritual specialists go. Shamans and Diviners and Sorcerers.
Directly after us is the palanquin-held coffin that should contain Suzaku-chan, were there anything left of her body. Instead, it only has cloths wrapped in her shape and a small fire where her head should be.
The cloths are white, just like my own and everyone else's is. It is the colour of purity after all.
Then it's a bunch of wailing women, Ritual lamenters who wail almost musically along to the beat of the drums.
Finally, the new Clan Head sits at the back on his horse, humble before the dead.
I'm kind of sceptical of the Diviners to be honest. Their whole thing is basically just vibes. Like, I get feelings about stuff too, y'know? I feel like they've just got good instincts more than any special knowledge or precognition, but eh, whatever. I could just be bias because I disagree with the notion of a predetermined fate on principle.
Regardless, culturally it's very important for purity to come before death here. That's why we are the last part of the procession ahead of the coffin itself, so that we can purify the road before the dead need cross it.
Usually, that means doing a lot of purification Rituals. You know, waving around purifying branches and talismans and such. Ritual dances and prayers and whatever Innate Techniques are fitting—and there are quite a few of those among the Principle Clans apparently.
I think that's what they expected of me, too; but I've realised something over this past week or so. However long it's been.
I've barely spoken to anyone, or done anything else, so I don't know. I healed everyone in the capital of course, put out the fires and ensured no one would starve or be left out in the rain.
But since then I've just been doing a lot of thinking. Meditating, I suppose.
Meditating on the Black Flash that I hit. On how I feel in its aftermath; what I've learned.
Kamo-Sensei kept bugging me to nerd out with him, but for once I didn't accede. My own thoughts were more important.
It took a lot of contemplating, but this procession has really helped pull it all together. Like a catalyst, y'know?
So I know the answer now. The conclusion to my week of meditation and my Black Flash induced clarity.
The reason that I do no Rituals or ceremonies to purify the path ahead is simple.
It's because I had it all backwards, until now. When I called my life a Blessing, it was because I thought myself Blessed to have been brought into this world. I love it here, after all.
But that's wrong.
It's the other way around.
The truth is that this world has been Blessed by my presence within it.
I am the Blessing. Anywhere I pass is made better because I exist.
How arrogant, right?
That's what I want to say. It's what some intellectual part of me says I should say.
I just can't; because it is true.
This world is Blessed by me.
So I don't need to do any Rituals. I don't need to chant or dance or employ any Techniques or effort of any kind.
I simply follow along with the procession and that is enough to Bless it, for I am here.
Grass, flowers and trees alike grow and gloss as I pass; their small lives rejuvenated by my presence and their spirits invigorated by my heart.
My Cursed Energy is no longer sneaky, I suppose.
I'm sure I will still be able to hide it once I've gotten used to this change within me, but right now, my presence flows freely without constraint, Blessing the world without restraint or prejudice.
Tilting my head, I turn up to face the sky.
It's blurry. Just a little bit. Fuzzy, almost.
It took me a while to actually notice it, but there is something about the sky that no longer looks the same. I'm curious about it, but my week of meditation has caused a few things to pile up, so I won't be able to explore whatever is going on with the sky for a while yet.
There is a lot to do.
Respecting Suzaku-chan's passing comes first.
We weren't exactly close, having only a few conversations, but I liked her. She was nice, and a little bit adorable. So the tears I shed for her are not fake, even if they feel a little bit hypocritical since Sukuna is the one who killed her.
Still, I saw the aftermath of that fight. She fought well. It was a respectable ending, and I am truly glad that Sukuna honoured her enough to put forth such an effort. I've never seen him do that before.
Even if he did make me cry.
What he did was very mean. Very, very mean.
It would be even more hypocritical to complain about it though, since I do the same to him, even if I didn't think of it as Cursing him until I looked him in the eyes and saw this same hurt reflected within them.
Because for every time that Sukuna tries to make me suffer, to make me Hate, I have done the same to him in reverse.
He destroys my sentimental belongings or cuts off my arms, I gift him with thoughtful presents and pat his shoulder. He Curses my kindness with the weight of countless murders, while I fill his life with small kindnesses and showings of Love.
We've both been trying to corrupt each other, though I don't think either of us really realised it until now.
Isn't that silly?
I suppose everything becomes a little bit silly if you think too deeply about it.
Eventually though, the procession does reach its destination. That being a giant tomb more resembling a key-hole shaped hill the size of two football stadiums.
They call it a Hi‑yoru oka. The implication in the name being that it is a place for Suzaku to retrieve the Soul of the deceased.
With this world being what it is compared to my last, I'm not actually sure whether that is metaphorical or if Suzaku-sama is actually going to retrieve Suzaku-chan's Soul.
...Who's idea was it to name the inheritors after the Sacred Beasts they inherit?
Regardless, the procession arrives, crossing the moat that surrounds the burial chamber on a temporary bridge.
A number of haniwa—clay sculptures—are arrayed around the chamber. Warriors, houses, dancers and animals of various designs.
Then it is the time for final offerings and lamentations to be made. The wailing women continue to musically cry, dancers twist their bodies in entrancing yet solemn manners that I am glad to witness. Food and weapons are lowered into the chamber ahead of the coffin.
Being an important person of importance as I am, I have to wait until these offerings have been made before I can make my own.
And so, standing side-by-side with the new Himejima Patriarch and the clearly autistic Genbu, I watch as the coffin is lowered into its final resting place before placing my own offering carefully over it.
Ko-Gitsune.
That is the name of the sword that Sanjō Munechika forged for me.
We only made the blade, and it should have been a while before all the other parts were finished, but oh well. I finished it myself.
It's not the proper traditional finish that I'd have wanted, but I had all the relevant people explain the processes for all the parts to me over the last week and did it myself.
Shikatsumi-kun was helpful for providing all the wood, so that was nice. Using my attempt at creating a Spell system some more was also nice for giving me some ideas on how to improve it, but that's all for later.
I know that this sword was supposed to be my practice sword, commissioned by Inari-sama herself, but too bad. Suzaku-chan was there, it's relevant to her and meaningful to me, and my decision is already made regardless.
So I rest the sword over her coffin and watch in silence as the tomb is closed over her.
...I think this might be the first time someone I have had an actual personal connection to has died in this life. In either life, really, considering how apathetic I was to everyone back then.
I don't like the feeling.
Tears flow freely down my stoic cheeks as Suzaku-chan is sealed away from the world.
It's so beautiful.
All of it.
Thousands of people have come together. Every single member of the Himejima Clan is present. A large number from each of the other Principle Clans too.
All these people coming together in shared grief—and despite what I would have thought seeing this scene in a TV show or something, the grief here is real. Within near all of them, it is real.
These people cared for her as more than just a faceless superior.
I don't know much of anything about the Principle Clans, but Suzaku-chan was clearly loved. Enough so that over a thousand people mourn her together. I can feel it in the air, within each and every one of them.
It's so beautiful that I can't stop crying. It is so human.
I'm so sad right now. I love it so much. This emotion, the purity of it.
Before that talk I had with my father, perhaps I would have felt guilty over these feelings. But it's like he said, I am a Jujutsu Sorcerer, not a Human.
This contradiction is simply who I am now. That I can be so upset and yet so incredibly joyful to feel this horrible emotion.
More than that, I am sure that before accepting myself truly, I would have felt even more guilty for how I am admiring the swell of grief coming from my side.
Because for all the people present expressing their grief, there is one that stands out above all others.
Dōman no Genbu, the head of the Dōman clan that exiled Ashiya-san.
He was easily the most injured when I arrived. If I was any later, he would have definitely died, since he doesn't seem capable of Reverse Cursed Technique.
I'd genuinely never seen a body so mangled while remaining alive before, his fortitude is impressive. Naturally, he's in perfect shape now.
I don't know what kind of relationship Genbu and Suzaku had—the people not the animals, seriously who's idea was that?—but the grief he feels eclipses any other's. All I can really gather is that the feelings weren't sexual in any way, but that hardly narrows things down.
I don't think he really understands what he is feeling though. His Cursed Energy is like a tightly condensed whirlpool. Spinning and spinning and lashing out blindly, failing to see why it spins as it does.
Honestly, his feelings might be making me cry more than anything else. I hate that he has to suffer so, but I Love that I get to witness it as he does.
How horrible. I really can't call myself a good person at all anymore, can I?
I suppose it was naïve of me to imagine a 'good' Jujutsu Sorcerer in the first place. Not that I really knew what it meant to be a Jujutsu Sorcerer back then.
...Half a year. That's all it's been, roughly. Half a year since I left the old man.
It feels like a lifetime.
After the tomb is closed there is a feast, the Clan Head gives a speech and the Warriors all renew their vows of loyalty before finally more haniwa are laid around the tomb.
All the sculptures are simple things, which is fine. They are symbolic and meaningful, but even then...
I don't know.
Suzaku gave Sukuna such an incredible experience, and she was good to me as well.
I feel like she deserves more than that. So without bothering to ask for permission, I decide to add my own haniwa to the vista.
Crouching down, I press my hand against the earth, feeling the mud as it crumbles around my fingers, and I push my Cursed Energy out and into the world, a simple Spell in mind.
I feel like Michizane's display of Cursed Energy control is so much less impressive these days. Because the Spell manifests with ease, and the earth rises.
I'm probably making some faux pas, but I don't really care.
Who will stop me?
///
Dōman no Genbu
///
Genbu had never lost a fight before. Not really.
He had of course lost to his teachers, but in an actual fight or spar with a peer or enemy? Not once has he lost. Even before he inherited Genbu, most opponents struggled to so much as make him bleed.
Is that why he feels so... tense? Uncomfortable?
He feels like every muscle is tensed even when they are not. Like his bones are straining in every direction, trying to pull themselves out of his skin. He feels like there is a lump in his throat that doesn't want him to speak or breath.
He doesn't like the feeling.
He doesn't think he should be feeling like this during Suzaku's funeral. It feels disrespectful to be so distracted by his own feelings at a time like this.
Suzaku was...
She wasn't family. Maybe a few generations removed, their blood was mixed, but she was Himejima and he Dōman.
But...
Genbu doesn't really like people. He doesn't understand them.
People always say things and then seem disappointed or angry when he responds, as if he never had the right thing to say. So he tries not to spend time around people if he can help it. He does his job, fulfils his purpose and serves the Kami. That is all.
But Suzaku...
He didn't mind her presence at all. She was different. She never looked at him as if the words he spoke were wrong. She was always... patient. She explained things to him that he did not understand, and she did so in a way that he could make sense of.
She was the only human Genbu ever actively sought out. The only one he would choose to be around when he did not have to.
She was not family, but sometimes Genbu would watch the children of his Clan and wonder if she thinks them related. As if they were sister and brother.
He is unhappy that she is gone. He wants to do something about it, but what can he do?
He cared for her. That is why he feels so shamed to be distracted during her funeral by his own petty offence at losing a fight for the first time.
He has seen plenty of talented or experienced Sorcerers provide such shameful showings upon facing a defeat they felt was impossible. He did not think that he too would fall into such dishonourable trappings, but evidently he was wrong.
Why else would he be feeling this horrible, awful pain in his chest?
He just wants to throw a fit. A destructive tantrum. But he is not a child anymore, so he does not.
Even if he is the one who should have died.
If he was just stronger, she wouldn't have had to push herself so far. She wouldn't have had to fight by herself.
If he was stronger she wouldn't have died alone.
So instead of lashing out as every pound of his flesh wants him to, Genbu simply stands and he stares at the mound of stone and dirt and he holds himself as still as can be.
Not even the overbearing aura of the man by his side draws a reaction from him. Though perhaps it is the case that it is Narauko's presence that is keeping his emotions in check.
It is... calming. Warm in a way that only reminds Genbu of Suzaku.
So he does nothing but watch as Narauko steps forward to Suzaku's tomb and rises a haniwa in her honour.
The earth rises before the man in a great tide, towering over all others before it begins to mould itself. A near hush falls on the air as the pillar of earth sculpts itself before their very eyes into the shape of a giant Phoenix, wings spread in benediction.
That... is not proper.
Genbu hears Himejima no Sarute suck in a sharp breath when the shape of the haniwa is revealed, and he is not blind to the matching response from everyone else.
Genbu might not understand people, but Suzaku taught him enough to know what emotions are being expressed, and he can see the same thing from all of them.
Shock, surprise. Hesitance and unsurety. Disapproval and gratitude mixed evenly.
To leave such direct imagery of Suzuka... That is not something that is done. It is improper to an incredible degree. Coming from anyone else, this would be an insult grave enough to become an enemy of all five Principle Clans.
But this is not anyone else.
This is The Strongest Sorcerer. This is a man who holds the favour of the Ōkami. And more than any of that...
This is Narauko.
Even if they wanted to take offence, they could not. News has spread of his own fight as the capital burned. His title is accepted by all now.
But they do not want to take offence even if it is improper, because Narauko was not some stranger to Suzaku. He is not a political man making moves without sincerity.
And that changes things.
That makes this sight fall under a different light entirely, because none who see it can doubt that this is anything but a genuine show of affection and honour. The sword of blatantly high quality he left as offering only exacerbates that.
Genbu can see it in the Himejima clansmen the most.
None of them have the right to honour Suzaku so deeply. They have not the right to depict Suzaku in a ceremony as this.
So even if it is improper, they are glad that someone who has such a right did so.
And so for the second time in the history of their Clan, a Matriarch is buried under the wings of the Vermilion Bird.
In that moment, though he cannot comprehend why... Genbu's legs falter, and he falls to his knees and he cries.
His shame at the display causes him to fall forward, curling into the grass as he kneels, his hands uselessly grabbing at the earth as if doing so will somehow bring her back!
He looses track of time.
The day goes on.
The ceremony continues around him.
He is left undisturbed. He doesn't know why.
But eventually, only once his tears run dry, Genbu figures something out himself for once.
I miss you so much.
///
Bezaliel
///
"Are you certain?"
Adriel regards him with calm solemnity.
"I am."
He remains his gaze matched to her own for a moment longer before eventually sighing and nodding in acquiescence.
They stand on the edge of this Realm, ready to return to their Lord's embrace from this unholy land. Yet it is here, before they could cross that line, that Adriel spoke to him her choice.
He does not agree with it. He wishes he could change her mind. Wishes that she would take a different path.
But his prayers on the matter have been met with silence, and so Bezaliel can only believe that this is a part of God's plan and stand aside so that Adriel may walk the path destined for her.
Yet... Despite that, there is some part of him that feels...
Doubt.
Not a significant amount of it, but the burgeonings of it.
This mission has changed them both, he knows this.
The change in Adriel is most clear, of course.
She has not yet Fallen, for which Bezaliel is eternally grateful. Yet he fears that she teeters on the edge with the path that she intends to walk.
The change within Bezaliel is much smaller in comparison. A seed of potential standing next to a tree fully bloomed with the certainty of a decision already made.
What Bezaliel feels is not so intense as her. No. He merely feels...
Curious.
He does not despise the man who caused their mission to falter into disaster as Adriel does. Instead, he only feels curious of what he saw.
The manner that the human—Narauko was his name—manipulated his shadow, it has intrigued him. It did not feel as simple as it seemed.
There was a connection there. Something deeper than the mere movement of darkness.
It eludes him what he noticed exactly, however. It feels akin to a puzzle, and Bezaliel wants to figure out the answer.
He desires this discovery too much, he knows this. Lust is a Sin not exclusive to being sexual in nature, and Bezaliel has no desire to fall into its temptuous embrace.
Yet still that curiosity remains.
"Will you return?" Bezaliel asks, if only to distract his wandering thoughts.
"I do not know," Adriel replies, her eyes full of a resolve that makes Bezaliel hesitate to try and turn her down a different path. "Perhaps."
"You will always have a place among your brothers and your sisters, Adriel. Is there anything that you would like me to tell Michael for you?"
Here, Adriel does hesitate, though only for a brief moment before that resolve returns.
"Tell our brother that I will learn the methods of these Heretics. Tell him that I will return, but only once that heathen no longer draws breath. Tell him how I will study their ways and learn how to destroy them. Tell him that I will bring justice to our fallen sisters!"
A heavy breath leaves her with her words, and then, after a moment of silence, the fire in her eyes cools and Adriel turns away, her final words coming out much softer.
"Tell him that I am sorry."
With that, Adriel departs without another word, and watching as her silhouette grows smaller in the distance, Bezaliel can only mourn the failure that this mission has become.
It is I who should apologise, Adriel.
Sighing once more, Bezaliel turns and he too departs this Realm, sparing only one final thought for his Sister.
May God be with you.
///
A/N: He~llo! Dear readers!
And so the second arc begins!! (This would be the prologue of act 2 btw)
and it begins with a bunch of sad stuff!! Yippeee!!
I mean what else did you expect after all the shit that happened. Also, legit nearly brought myself to tears writing the genbu bit lmao