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A baby, barely a few hours old, peers up at his mother. She, a vulture, appears upset by her son's appearance. A human with only vulture wings to vouch for his origins, he is certainly not what she was expecting. But the baby is much too young to understand this. He giggles as he flails his arms and legs.
Later, while the sun sets, the mother leaves. By the time the baby stops crying it's completely dark. The sun is long gone and the baby finds himself staring up at the night sky. He grabs at the stars. When his closed hands come back empty he continues to trying to claim a star until his falls asleep.
When he wakes up, there is a person sitting on at the edges of the nest. Unlike the baby, this person is an old man whose wings barely exist. Once, his wings might’ve been a fiery red like that of a phoenix. Now, they’re no more than a dull grayish red.
After a long drink from his teacup, the man speaks.
“I am Yasufumi, God of Cycles.”
The baby lets out a string of noises and bit of spit as he flails. Nekomata chuckles then takes another sip of tea. The baby reaches for a feather that falls from Nekomata’s wings. Nekomata looks at it, decides it’s of no use to him, and gives it to the baby. The baby blows at the feather, laughing when it moves wildly. Nekomata smiles.
Some minutes later the baby decides he’s had enough of the feather. He rolls over, adding it to his nest. His wings move about aimlessly now that they’re no longer caught between the baby and the nest.
“You’ll be the Lesser God of Death. Your True Name shall be Tetsurou.”
Tetsurou is the youngest of the three new Lesser Cycle Gods, as the Elder Gods call them.
The oldest is Nobuyuki, Lesser God of Seasons. He lives with Tetsurou in the Underworld during the dead seasons. Death in the mortal world means life in the Underworld and is Nobuyuki’s chance to regain his strength after Spring and Summer.
Tetsurou isn’t sure what Nobuyuki does during the alive seasons, but he’s happy for the company. Spirits waiting for a new life don’t make good conversation partners.
The middle child, as it is, is Morisuke the Lesser God of Time. Nekomata tells him to be steady and confident. Time must flow if life is to grow and thrive. Without Time pushing forward, everything becomes static.
Also with Time, Tetsurou realizes, things will eventually die. He doesn’t like death despite his title. It breaks his heart to listen to the mortals praying — begging might be a better word — for him to keep their loved ones alive. They come into his temples with tears and desperation. They’re in enough despair to forgo walking and running in favor of scrambling to the altar.
Yasufumi says life can’t happen without Death so Tetsurou never grants prayers for a longer life. But he thinks it would be nice if people didn’t have to die.
Taketora becomes the Lesser God of Day and Shouhei the Lesser God of Night. Dawn and Dusk — the times where the two Gods are inseparable — becomes a time of celebration for the mortals. They give thanks for a new Day then for the Night as a time to rest. Taketora and Shouhei watch like fond parents as they make the transition between Night and Day.
(Dawn and Dusk makes Tetsurou wonders if there will ever be a Lesser God of Life.)
Tetsurou storms down a hill, leaving behind a trail of yellow footsteps in the grass. He hates the trails of death he leaves behind but now isn’t the time to worry about it. Yasufumi will make it green again before dawn breaks. Tetsurou has business he must attend to.
A city comes into view. Here, there’s a ritual in the making. The highest ranking priests — Tetsurou’s highest ranking priests — gather to plan the specifics: date, time, incantations. Worst of all, they have plans for sacrifice and they’ve already chosen their target.
Tonight, the priests meet in the monastery’s prayer chamber. They stand shoulder to shoulder around the altar with a space at the steps. They chant their prayer in unison.
But Tetsurou didn’t come to answer their prayers. In his True Form, gigantic but invisible to mortals, leaning forwards gives him a perfect view of the sacrifice the priests want him to approve. Tetsurou’s wings bristle at the sight.
Surrounded by deadly nightshade and tied face up to the altar is a young man in shabby black rags and a thorny wreath in his unkempt black hair. His eyes are shut tight but that doesn’t hide the dried tears on his cheeks. With his hands pressed together, he mouths a different prayer from the priests.
Don’t leave me be
I’ve lost my life
Don’t let me roam
I need a home
The Soul’s Prayer, something no living person ever uses seriously for themself. They memorize it so their soul can pray for a pleasant time in the Underworld before its Reincarnation. It’s one of the few things Souls can say.
So Tetsurou decides this is as good a time as any to do something he’s never done before. He shrinks himself to almost the size of a mortal — he’s still two feet too tall — then begins the walk down the aisle. His footsteps reverberate throughout the room. The priests go silent abruptly in the middle of a sentence. The young man snaps his mouth shut while the priests turn in unison to face Tetsurou.
He wears an all black kimono and a gray haori with a vulture stitched onto the back. A nest like crown with a single red feather sticking out rests atop his head. The priests must know who he is when he matches all their paintings, statues, and figurines. But, for good measure, he phases his wings through his clothing and snaps them as wide as they’ll go.
“Kuroo-sama!” shouts the priest dressed more elaborate than the rest; the High Priest. He gets onto all fours and presses his forehead against the polished floor. The others follow suit.
“His Highness the Prince is deathly ill in the castle.” says the High Priest once Tetsurou stops at the bottom of the stairs. “Come the ritual day, we would like to offer this criminal’s life so that His Highness the Prince may keep his.”
As Tetsurou proceeds up the steps, the priests rotate themselves so the tops of their bald heads always face him. He makes a show of inspecting the young man from every angle. He seems tenser knowing Tetsurou is in the room.
Tetsurou stands as close as possible to the Head Priest without touching him. The Head Priest seems to press his head further into the floor and Tetsurou doesn't doubt he would phase through it if he could.
"Kuroo-sama?" the High Priest audibly licks his lips. "Is he not to your liking?"
"I assume you are a High Priest."
"Yes, Kuroo-sama."
"Then, as a High Priest, you have my Commandments memorized."
"Yes, of course, Kuroo-sama."
“Numbers four, five, and six.”
The High Priest audibly licks his lips. “Thou shalt not destroy what does not belong to thee. Thou shalt not…” There’s a thick silence in which no one except Tetsurou seems confident enough to breathe.
Tetsurou’s wings spread out and his voice fills the entire room when he speaks for the High Priest. “Thou shall not take a life. Thou shall not sacrifice.”
Tetsurou releases the young man with his wings snapping flat against back. For a moment he considers taking the Souls of the priests. In the back of his mind he hears Morisuke’s voice telling him it’s not Time for them to go. And, besides, that would go against what he means to teach them.
So he turns back to the man still lying face up. Tetsurou walks around the perimeter of the altar, gathering all of the deadly nightshade in one hand. They wilt in his touch and with a flick of his wings they turn to powdered charcoal. Some of it flutters to the ground as he approaches the man’s feet.
“What’s your name.”
“Kozume.” He trails off, then: “Yeah, Kozume.”
“Sit up, Kozume. Watch, priests.”
Once Kozume sits up, Tetsurou dips his pointer into the charcoal. He paints a bird inside an upside down triangle on Kozume’s forehead.
“You blessed somebody?” comes Koutarou’s voice the second Tetsurou returns to the Underworld.
Koutarou swoops into the Underworld and would’ve barreled into Tetsurou if not for Keiji pulling him back. Together they land safely in front of Tetsurou instead of on top of him.
Keiji offers a greeting but it gets overshadowed by Koutarou grabbing Tetsurou by the shoulders and demanding to know if he really blessed somebody. Tetsurou sighs.
As part of the Lesser Knowledge Gods, Koutarou and Keiji have nothing to do with Tetsurou’s duties or the Underworld. But, through sheer willpower it seems, Koutarou always comes up with new reasons to visit the Underworld and it seems Keiji never leaves his side. Tetsurou doesn’t mind the company, not when Souls do very little, but he would appreciate it if they gave him warning. Travel between Worlds requires flight and the Underworld entrance is barren enough that even flapping wings echo. But owls are silent flyers. Tetsurou can never hear them or any of the other Lesser Knowledge Gods coming.
“Yeah, I did bless somebody.” Tetsurou says as he pulls himself out of Koutarou’s grip. He gathers up a few wandering Souls away from the exit. He leaves for the only way into the Underworld proper: a large archway lined with crumbling stone. Koutarou and Keiji follow.
“Why’d you do it?” Koutarou asks. They turn a corner. "The last time you blessed somebody was forever ago."
To make a point , Tetsurou thinks. But then Koutarou and Keiji will ask for the point and why he had to make it and there’s nothing worse than explaining something to immortal beings who need to know everything .
“Figured it’s about time,” he says with a shrug.
“So you blessed them on a whim.” Keiji asks. Tetsurou can feel him raising an eyebrow.
“I guess that’s how it happened.” Which isn’t a lie — Keiji can practically smell those — since Tetsurou hadn’t gone into the monastery looking to bless somebody. “Think of it as me thanking him for not wanting to die after his life got offered for some prince.”
"Princes are nice." Koutarou huffs. Tetsurou imagines all three of them are collectively remembering the prince Koutarou blessed on that basis that he looked like Keiji.
They exit the hallway into an expansive outdoors through a wide archway. Tetsurou lets the Souls go and they slowly morph into the last human life they had. They disperse into whatever social group they belong to. Somehow Souls can still communicate with each other but not with the Gods responsible for their time in the Underworld.
“You sure do love life, Kuroo-sama.”
It's Spring in the Underworld now. Everything can grow here so the garden bursts with color from all the different plant life. The Spirits are content to garden, dip their feet into the pond at the center, and fish from the lake around the edge. Child Spirits chase after bugs and roll about in the fields.
“Cycles,” Tetsurou says. “I enjoy cycles.”
In a few months when Nobuyuki leaves for Spring in the Mortal world, this outdoors will become a desolate place. Nothing grows in the Underworld’s Autumn and Winter. The animals all leave for the Overworld, the plants wilt away and disappear, the water dries out, and the Spirits hide away in other rooms of the Underworld or do whatever it takes to escape to the Mortal world.
But Spring always finds its way back, and with it, so does life. So maybe Keiji is right but without the cycle of life and Death, Tetsurou realizes, there would be nothing to love.
The priests free Kozume the day after his blessing and over the next half year he becomes Tetsurou’s most dutiful follower to date. He forms a habit of praying — mostly to thank Tetsurou for sparing his life — every night at about the same time as his blessing. Tetsurou would be concerned for Kozume's mental health but he's always complaining of some word puzzle keeping him up
He plants deadly nightshade along the path leading up to his home. Tetsurou refuses to take their Souls even though Kozume's gardening skills are whack.
Kozume paints a bird in an upside down triangle on his door. It's sloppy but functional. He repaints it when a substantial amount chips off or fades away.
He doesn’t take on any religious positions like Tetsurou thought he would — literally every other Gods' blessed mortal has. And it’s not for lack of trying, either. The city’s High Priest from Tetsurou’s temple informs Kozume of an open spot in the temple's staff almost daily even if one doesn’t exist. On occasion — at least once a week — the High Priest will even offer up his own position. But Kozume turns it down in favor of staying home as much as possible.
(He does, however reluctantly, take on the title of Prophet after Tetsurou pesters him with mundane visions. They're meaningless and he knows Kozume knows this but at least he got the point. Now Koutarou doesn't pester Tetsurou about blessing someone so uninvolved.)
Even when the charcoal washes away and leaves Kozume with nothing but the memory, he continues on with his duties as Tetsurou’s follower.
Kenma wakes up with hair sticking to his face. He takes four deep breaths before he’s able to pull sit up and pull himself out of bed. He pads over to his desk where there’s barely enough moonlight to write.
His sleep journal is still open from when he recorded the time he headed off to bed. He takes out a pen and as he opens it, the moon seems to get brighter. He thanks Fukunaga-sama for the light before he recording the current time and what he can recall of his dream.
He thanks Kuro-sama for the premonition then goes back to bed. The city sleeps at his hour, and he doesn’t want the High Priest to Fukunaga-sama coming after him for waking everyone up.
Sunlight urges Kenma up in the morning. Before opening his eyes, he thanks Yamamoto-sama for waking him up before assembly but curses him for being so obnoxious about it.
At his desk, Kenma writes down his wake up time. He’s had no further dreams, or at least none he can recall, since his premonition. He gets up, pulls out a bucket of water from underneath his bed, and cleans himself up. He dresses in nicest robes he already has lying around. He’ll eat breakfast later.
Never one to run, Kenma speed walks his way to the Cycle Monastery’s main building. There, he finds Shibayama facing a wall and reciting an incantation with a golden sphere in one and a sundial in the other. Kenma only knows Shibayama since he’s the only other blessed person in the city.
Shibayama when he turns around, almost dropping the items. "Kozume sir! What brings you today?"
"Premonition."
Shibayama makes a sound of surprise as he tries to put his items down both quickly and carefully. "I'll take you to your High Priest, then."
Kenma nods though he would prefer it if people didn't treat him like he's Kuro-sama himself. He follows Shibayama outside, past Kuro-sama's prayer chamber, and into a house like building. They walk down some hallways until Shibayama stops in front a door with too many fine paint details to be anything other than the High Priest's door.
Shibayama knocks on door with more force than Kenma thinks is necessary. The sound of someone falling and things being thrown about makes Shibyama look out the window like he expects Fukunaga-sama to swoop in to smack him.
The High Priest opens the door still in his pyjamas and rubbing at his eyes. Shibayama faces the doorway again.
"Shibayama, shouldn't you know not to—" the High Priest begins then, upon catching sight of Kenma, immediately shuts closes his mouth. He stands at attention. "Kozume-sama!"
Kenma sighs. "Stop treating me like one of the Gods."
"Yes, sir!'
(But he'll keep doing it anyways, Kenma knows.)
"I'll see myself out." Shibayama says, bowing at the High Priest then at Kenma before leaving.
Kenma doesn't wait for Shibayama to vanish before announcing the premonition.
"There's a plague coming."
Nobody listens.
Tetsurou thought, with all their pestering for Kozume's leadership, the people would listen to his warnings. But here he is, in the middle of the city, watching as grayed out people drag themselves around the street. He claims Souls left and right, and with Autumn approaching the Mortal world, he finds himself away from the Underworld more often than in it.
Not for the first time he wishes death didn't have to happen.
Kenma makes it out alright. He doesn't get sick despite patients upon patients begging for a longer life. Shibayama, who also deals with patients asking when their illness will end, scolds Kenma's beggars for wanting to screw with Time. They can't seem to stop themselves, though.
In the end half the monastery's population falls to the plague, including the High Priest. What's left of the Tetsurou's religious men are either unwilling, unqualified, or both for High Priesthood. Kenma lumps himself with the unwilling but he knows he has to have power if he wants to avoid a repeat.
"Yakkun," Tetsurou says as he approaches Morisuke.
Part of Tetsurou wants Morisuke to ask about Kozume. Even Nobuyuki, who lived with Tetsurou for six months, never asked him this. Something deep inside Tetsurou itches to talk about Kozume. But Morisuke only huffs and keeps his focus on knitting a blanket.
Tetsurou continues, "Why'd you spare that High Priest of yours?"
At this, Morisuku stops mid-knit to bend over spluttering. He manages to get out an indignant What! before choking on his own spit. This isn’t quite the reaction Tetsurou wanted to get but it’s so much better.
Tetsurou sits in the grass next to Morisukue. The good thing about Overworld compared to the Mortal world is that he could dance in an Overworld field and it won’t become a pile of dried out plants when he’s done.
“I didn’t spare him.” Morisuke says when he composes himself. He returns to knitting.
“Mhm,” Tetsurou elongates it as much as he, himself is able to stand. He gestures to the blanket. “And that’s why you’re still working on his Fate."
"No!" Morisuke shouts. "This isn't—!"
Tetsurou raises an eyebrow, saying: "Yakkun. Both you and I know this is his.”
He points to the tag at the end of the blanket. It’s turned around so he can’t see the name but it’s a unique tag he’s familiar enough with to know what it says.
Morisuke bites his lip, then: “Fine.”
Tetsurou lies down with his stomach against the grass. He rests his chin against his palm then listens to the quiet that follows. Even when Nobuyuki leaves for the dead seasons, there’s always Life in the Overworld. The plants are always blooming, the rivers and ponds are always flowing, and everything comes through in soft pastel colors. It makes Tetsurou forget the desolate outdoors of his own world.
Minutes later, Morisuke lets out a cough. “What about that prophet of yours?”
Tetsurou sits up immediately. "He's the High Priest now."
"Really?" Morisuke sets aside the blanket then leans back on his elbows. "Since when?
"Last week." Tetsurou says. "After that Medicine God's birth. Which, by the way, will be the key to cheating Death."
"You really do love life."
"I like keeping my blessed Mortals alive."
"And that's why your last one died after three days." Morisuke rolls his eyes. "Tell me about this new one."
And that Tetsurou does. He praises Kozume's ability to analyze visions even when they’re vague. He's overjoyed with Kozume's commitment to learning prayers, incantations, and teachings from Tetsurou's Sacred Texts. Kozume's preachings are short but efficient. Tetsurou can tell Kozume still doesn't want to have the power he has, but he uses it well.
"Wow, you really got lucky when you went off and blessed some rando.”
Tetsurou leaves out the way Kozume's hair frames his face when he prays. The way his lips fall into a line when he has something to say but not the words to say it with. How he huffs and grins when he completes a word game after he finishes his nightly prayer.
"I guess so." Tetsurou lays on his stomach with his chin in hand again. He picks a blade of grass and twirls it around. "Now. Tell me about your guy."
So they spend a good chunk of Time talking about their respective Mortal. Tetsurou feels like a young God again; back when he, Morisuke, and Nobuyuki would sit and gossip about the affairs of the Mortal world.
Tetsurou loves the way Kozume looks when he prays. He sits criss-cross with his hands in his lap and his back against the wall opposite from his window. He closes his eyes and tilts his head in such a way that makes him look like he’s sleeping. His mouth moves slowly and carefully, like he’s doing whatever it takes to use the perfect words.
"Kuro," Kozume says after his prayer. Dropping the -sama is something he's gotten into the habit of doing with every God but the softness of his voice makes Tetsurou feel special.
"That's me." Tetsurou says as he pushes himself off the bed. He takes a spot next to Kozume without touching him. "What's up."
"Stop watching me from the bed. It's creepy."
Tetsurou puts a hand over his heart and leans away from Kozume. "Me? Creepy? Never!"
Kozume rolls his eyes immediately upon opening them. The way the moonlight hits him makes his eyes look much more cat like than usual.
“Keep staring at me like that and you’ll be the creepiest guy I know.”
Tetsurou snorts. He sits back up so he’s facing the opposite wall. “So? What did you want?”
There’s the sound of Kozume licking his lips and then: “My name is Kenma.”
Tetsurou raises an eyebrow. "Your True Name?"
Kozume nods. "Use it."
The city calls Kenma an immortal. They’re not wrong — he can feel Kuro’s presence whenever there’s a chance he could die — but they don’t take to it very well. They say he’s thwarted death one too many to have done anything but strike a deal with Tendou, the Lesser God of Monsters.
(Tetsurou asks about this but Satori never gives a straight answer.)
When Kenma goes up to preach, everyone in assembly — which is gradually shrinking — hides knives in their kimonos. No one tries anything. Kenma’s certain they’ll stop appearing to his preaching and forget about him before anyone can try anything. But still, he is cautious. He prays for protection and carries his own knife whenever he leaves his home.
(Tetsurou leaves a feather on Kenma’s desk for when he can’t be there.)
Eventually Kenma has enough. All but three people left the temple when his turn came to preach. There’s no point in staying if next to nobody will listen. He storms home as soon as he’s done talking. He changes into pyjamas then throws his expensive robes out onto his lawn. With evening fast approaching he knows he won’t be able to get out of town while there’s still light. So, he’ll wake up before the sun, take a horse, and leave as the sun’s rays hit the city.
Morisuke opens a drawer. He checks the name tag on the blanket to confirm it's the one he wants. Nodding to himself, he pulls it out and wastes no time in working it. With a flap of his wings, his yarn changes to a shimmering gold without affecting the rest of the blanket. He adds six new rows to it — five for the existing Lesser Cycle Gods and one more for a new addition.
The blanket glows when Morisuke finishes it off. He places the knitting needles back into the empty cabinet. He wraps the blanket around his shoulders like a shawl before leaving for the Mortal world. With a twitch of his wings, the blanket appears as a shabby cloth that could be a blanket but could also be a towel.
He comes to this city often enough to know where he is but not enough locate a specific house. Luckily he has Tetsurou’s stories to guide him. It’s not long before Morisuke’s standing in front of a row of deadly nightshade leading the way to a door with Tetsurou’s symbol on it.
Morisuke moves the blanket to his shoulders and takes on the appearance of a poor traveller. If Kozume wakes up, Morisuke can play his presence off as someone needing a place to stay.
Morisuke takes some time to familiarize himself with the house upon entering. If Kozume wakes up it’ll be sooner rather than later, in which case Morisuke needs to sell his poor traveller costume. As he looks about, Morisuke realises he’s in less of a house more of a glorified bedroom. There are no doors except for the one he came through and one window above it. The bed, taking up most of the space, seems larger than it is and the desk, with its many crumbs and stains, looks like it also functions as a kitchen table. He swings open the armoire to find clothing but the bottom drawers contain a variety of non-perishables. Kozume really has mastered the simple life.
Morisuke realizes Kozume probably won’t wake up when all he does is breathe for the better part of two minutes. Morisuke doesn’t let go of his outfit though — just in case.
He tip toes over to the head of the bed. Carefully, he removes the blankets, stopping when Kozume moves or makes a sound. Then he wraps Kozume in his Fate and watches as it changes back into its colorful original. Morisuke adjusts it so the gold fabric is on top.
Morisuke holds his arms straight back to simulate his wings then snaps. Kozume levitates a few centimeters off his bed. Sighing when he doesn’t wake up, Morisuke transports Kozume outside. Morisuke sheds his disguise for his True Form. He plucks a deadly nightshade, eats it, then he and Kozume are off for the Underworld.
Kenma wakes up in thick woodlands wearing purple-gray robes. Looking up he finds that it’s almost midday. He thinks he should panic but he notes there are no woodlands anywhere near the city. Leaving the city in the past is all wants at the moment.
He gets up but stumbles backward from the sudden weight on his back. He moves his arm to feel at what it is but he doesn't get far before he hits something soft. Turning his head, he finds large gray-brown wings he knows he didn't go to bed with. He pulls at them and, upon feeling pain, decides they’re real and leaves them be.
A quiet wooo-oo-oo-oo surrounds him. He looks around for the source but it seems to come from everywhere all at once. Sighing, he picks up the blanket he woke with then starts walking forward. The resulting crunch of leaves startles a family of birds out of a tree.
Eventually the woodlands fade into the background and he comes across a river. It isn’t full yet but he can feel a rainstorm brewing in the distance. He rolls up one side of his pant to his thigh then slowly lowers his foot into the water. It doesn’t get anywhere near his knee before he reaches the bottom, so he rolls up the other side and wads his way across.
As he pulls himself out on the other side, his pyjamas transform into a purple-gray kimono and haori.
“I knew I heard mourning doves coming from somewhere,” comes a voice Kenma knows so well.
Kenma dusts himself off, saying, “Where am I?”
“The underworld,” Kuroo says in the same casual way someone would talk about the weather.
Kenma raises his eyebrows. “So I’m dead.”
“No.” Kuro says, crossing his arms. He flaps his wings. “You’re a God.”
Kenma’s wings twitch. “You sure I’m not dead?”
“I’m sure.” Kuro then turns away, and with a gesture, says, “Come. You’ve got some Gods to meet.”
So Kenma follows him through what might be a garden come Spring and around a half full pond. God or Spirit, Kenma can imagine himself spending a considerable amount of time here. He can feel life pulsating underneath his feet.
“Oh yeah,” Kuro says as they enter a hallway, “Call me Tetsurou.”
“Ok Kuroo.”
Kuro squawks. He turns, pointing a finger at Kenma, almost shouting: “The one time you say it right!”
“What do you mean?” Kenma smiles. “I always say it like that.”
“No!” Tetsurou says with a laugh. Then he turns back around and laughs a bit harder.
Kenma chuckles. Regardless of why he’s here, he can live with it so long as he can have moments like this.
"I really do love Life." Tetsurou says to himself as he watches Kenma familiarize himself with the other Lesser Cycle Gods.
"What I say?" says Keiji, who came by extension of Koutarou. Tetsurou thinks these are supposed to be in-group events but Koutarou's come to all of these as far as Tetsurou can remember.
"Morisuke said the same thing."
“I said what now?” Morisuke calls. He shakes Kenma’s hand.
“That I love Life.” Tetsurou reminds Morisuke’s back.
“Yes. And?”
“You’re right.” Tetsurou locks eyes with Kenma. “I love Life.”