The sun rose to an eerie calm over Takamagahara.
Most days, the fields of the divine realm would be bursting with life, the delicate scent of cherry blossoms drifting over a calm, peaceful breeze as the denizens of the plain woke below. The sweet melodies of songbirds would sing to the rising sun as the golden orb’s rays shone over great pagoda that stood on the eastern edge of the high heavens. On the top floor of the palace of the gods, the great god Izanagi would wake and stride out to his balcony, surveying the serene beauty below as the land of the Celestials came to life.
Today was not most days. A muted dawn rose to find no scent of cherry blossoms, no peaceful breeze, no songbirds. Takamagahara was still and silent, its animals hidden in their dens and its people hidden in their homes. Celestials and animals alike knew something had changed overnight, could sense the waves of malice that lingered in the air. And above it all, at the top of the great pagoda that overlooked the rising sun, the father of creation was nowhere to be found.
Izanagi stood in his bathchamber, staring at his reflection in the mirror, memories of the previous night still replaying themselves in the deity’s mind. The source of those dark echoes still tormented his mind, his ears capable of hearing nothing but the haunting laughter of the phantom that had forever changed the nature of this world. The air grew colder, and the great god shivered. Through the mirror, he swore he could see the faint outline of a spirit behind him, wearing the dim features of Izanami, his departed wife.
Its face might have been Izanami’s, but it wasn’t the face that he knew. She’d only died yesterday, but any semblance of the beautiful maiden he’d once loved was a distant memory, forever replaced in his head with the monstrous visage he’d encountered in the land of the dead. She was a cruel mockery of the woman he’d known, her face charred, rotted, and wrinkled; maggots chewing their way into and out of her flesh. The greatest of the gods had fled in terror after just one look at her.
She’d been furious with him. Furious that he had planned to violate the laws of nature by rescuing her from the underworld. Furious that he had insisted on seeing her face one last time despite her pleas. Furious that he’d abandoned any love he had for her the moment he saw the abomination death had turned her into. Izanami had been so enraged that she’d commanded the souls of the departed to take his own, to force him to join her in that forsaken realm forever. It had taken every ounce of Izanagi’s strength for him to escape the underworld and seal both it and the monster that’d once been his wife with a giant boulder. Her last words to him were a promise, a vow to destroy every last bit of life that this world held and erase any evidence that Izanagi’s creations had ever walked this earth.
The great god pushed the thoughts to the side. He grabbed a small cloth and used it to wash his face, hoping to cleanse the stench of death and evil that still clang to it. He cleaned his eyes and nose, then froze as he heard the wailing of an infant behind him.
Three newborn children lay on the floor, each of them laying in the exact location where some of the residue from his face had landed. It seems his wife had given him one last gift: a trio of deities, born from the merged power of Izanagi and the forsaken realm.
He waved his towards the doorway, and in the next room, shoots of bamboo sprouted from the floor, twisting themselves as they grew into the shape of three cribs. He picked up the first of the children, a boy. This one had long black hair, similar to both of of his parents, and a stout face reminiscent of his father. As Izanagi lifted the child, he noticed the divine markings that covered the boy’s body, all of them glowing a deep, vibrant blue.
He smiled at the child. “You carry the ferocity of the world’s oceans within you,” he said, placing the child in the first of the three cribs. “You shall be called Susanoo, and all that lies within those blue depths shall be your domain.”
The second child was also male. His hair was still black, but shorter than his brother’s, and his features refined like his mother’s. As Izanagi picked the child up, the boy’s hair shimmered a bright silver, reflecting the light the same way the moon reflected the radiance of the sun. “You wield the light that holds back the darkness of night.” The great god placed the child in the second crib. “You shall be known as Tsukuyomi, and watch over this world from the tranquility of the night sky.”
The third and final child was a girl, with an appearance unlike either of her brothers. Her hair was already grown out to an unnatural length for her age, her locks white as snow. Her eyes and her divine markings were a blazing red, and the light of the golden orb outside intensified every time she smiled. He returned his daughter’s smile and placed her in the last crib. “You carry the light of the sun itself. You shall shine down on this world from the heavens, bringing its people hope and life.”
The young goddess beamed, and light flooded through the open windows. Izanagi felt a weight lift from his mind, the dark aura that had permeated the air just moments ago a distant memory.
“You are the great goddess that shines in heaven, Amaterasu-omikami.”
Five years passed since the birth of the three great gods. Life on Takamagahara resumed, and tales of that dark day on which the divine realm had fallen still became little more than ghost stories. The light that blessed the high heavens grew brighter with each passing day, and not a single being in the land of the gods was more beloved than Amaterasu.
The young boy known as Yami watched it all from outside the Celestial’s village. The comforting embrace of darkness was an old friend, and he was never once noticed throughout those years, the child little more than a shadow within the vast woods. He saw the reverence the Celestials displayed to the young sun goddess. Everywhere she walked, all those around dropped what they were doing, enchanted by her presence, doting on her and catering to her every whim. It was as if the little girl had cast a spell across the land, bewitching all who beheld her.
It was all as his mother had told him. The gods of this world were filled with hubris, forever fed by the undying praise and admiration they demanded from those below them. The goddess was still but a small child, yet already she was worshipped as Izanagi’s successor. The Celestials were almost excited about submitting to her rule, and any concepts of independence or free will were completely foreign to them.
They were all selfish elites. They all praised Izanagi, Amaterasu, and the other gods for the nirvana that was Takamagahara, but not a single one of them cared about the lives of those in any of the other realms. They rejoiced, celebrated, and lived indulgent lives, all while they kept the souls of the departed trapped in the nightmare of the underworld.
Yami had been trapped in that forsaken place for what felt like an eternity. He’d been there for so long that he couldn’t even recall when or how he’d become a spirit in the first place. The only memories he had from the days before he met the woman he considered his mother were memories of torment, anguish, and utter isolation. How many centuries had he spent in that horrid hell? How many centuries had the immortal Celestials lived joyous lives here, never once sparing a thought for the lost souls they kept trapped in the darkness?
His mother had saved him. She’d given him knowledge and purpose, had used all of her power to create an opportunity for him to escape from that awful prison. The souls of the departed had entrusted with their hopes and dreams. Even now they prayed for him to topple the unjust rule of the gods, to give the forsaken a chance to have real lives once again.
His eyes narrowed. Amaterasu’s reign would never come to pass. He would see to it that the three broken realms would become one again; that a day would come when Celestials, mortals, and spirits could live as equals, each with control over their own fates.
The forest rustled, and a young woman with rabbit ears, golden-blonde hair, and the markings of the divine burst through the underbrush. “You’ll have to be faster than that, Ammy!” she yelled. The woman’s body transformed into golden light, reshaping itself into the form of a rabbit that bounded deeper into the forest.
Amaterasu emerged from the bushes after her, the white-haired girl laughing without a care in the world as she chased the other goddess. Despite her young age, the sun goddess was swift, already faster than any grown mortal man. Yami could scarcely imagine what kind of monster she might grow into if left unchecked.
A wicked grin crawled across the boy’s face, and he stepped out of the shadows. Amaterasu ran straight into him, knocking them both to the ground.
The girl stood and brushed some of the dirt and dust off of her dress. “Sorry!” She reached down, offering the boy a hand, her face flashing him a smile that was too pure for any of the three realms.
Yami’s will clung to all of his mother’s teachings, to all of the bitter loneliness the spirit realm had instilled him with, his dark thoughts the only lifeline he could grasp to keep from being swept away by all the charm and charisma the girl’s smile held. At once, he understood why the Celestials treated this girl the way that they did. Her very existence carried an aura of hope and light. Her face looked reassuring, but to call it such would be an insult. It was more apt to say that the young sun goddess was reassurance itself.
The boy took her hand and let her help him up. “Thanks,” he said. His own smile was only half fake. “Sorry to interrupt your game.”
“Huh?” Recognition flared in her eyes as the goddess remembered what she had been doing moments ago. Her head darted back and forth, scanning the forest’s undergrowth for any sign of the rabbit’s tracks. None were there. “Darn.” She pouted and slumped her shoulders. “I’ll get you next time, Yumi!”
An unfamiliar sound came from Yami’s throat, and it took him a moment to realize that it had been a laugh.
The girl turned her attention back to him. “I’m Ammy.”
“Yami.”
Her smile grew mischievous as she reached out and touched his arm. “You’re it.”
She sprinted away before he could even process what had happened, bushes rustling and laughter ringing in the air as she fled into the forest. Yami’s hand brushed against the spot where she’d touched his arm, and his brow furrowed. He wasn’t sure what magic she’d just cast on him, but he wasn’t going to let her get away with it. The boy broke out into a run, chasing after the laughing girl.
Amaterasu’s “magic” bounced back and forth between the two children as they chased each other across the forest for hours. An unpleasant pleasantness filled Yami as he tagged the goddess and reversed direction, once more taking on the role of the perused. His face felt twisted and uncomfortable. It all felt so very unfamiliar, yet so very natural.
That pleasantness he felt was happiness, he realized. His face wasn’t twisted – he was just smiling. His mother had given him meaning while he’d been trapped in the forsaken realm, but this was the first time he’d felt as if his life mattered.
Yami’s conflicted thoughts were so distracting that he didn’t even notice when he exited the forest and reached the edge of the gods’ floating realm. He tried to stop himself, but the realization hit too late, and he stumbled over the edge, his eyes widening as they took in the sight of the mortal realm that sat hundreds of miles below. A hand caught him and pulled him backward. He looked up to see Amaterasu’s face staring back at him.
“Are you okay?” she asked, offering a hand.
He nodded, taking her hand and pulling himself back to his feet.
The boy watched as she stared out over the edge, her eyes contemplating the human world as it lazily spun below. He followed her gaze, and his eyes studied the world below. Though they shared the same view, he felt the distinct sense that the two of them saw very different things. Where he saw mountains, hills, rivers, and the occasional human settlement, her eyes focused on something much deeper. Even from hundreds of miles away, it was as if she could see every single individual life that walked the mortal realm.
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, it is,” he said. His answer was only a half-truth. He knew that whatever beauty the goddess saw was a sight that only she could ever comprehend.
Amaterasu sighed. “They all live such easy lives.” She smiled. “I’d like to live there one day. I wouldn’t have to worry about any powers, or taking after father.”
Yami felt a spark within him, though whether it was a spark of doubt or a spark of hope was beyond him. Perhaps his mother wasn’t completely right. Perhaps this goddess was different from the arrogant beings he’d been warned about. “You don’t want to be like your father?” he asked.
He saw her frown for the first time. “It doesn’t sound fun, right?” she asked. “There’s so many of them. Leading them all would be really hard.” She sighed. “I know I have to do it. Someone has to protect them from the monsters.”
The boy’s stomach sank. “Monsters?” he asked. He knew well what she meant, but that feeling of doubt within him demanded that he make sure.
“Yeah, they’re like ghosts. Father told me about them. We have to always keep them trapped, or they’ll hurt people.”
His eyes bored into the side of her head. “But what if they don’t want to stay trapped?”
She didn’t even hesitate to answer. “Then they shouldn’t have hurt people.”
Her words cleared away the fog that had clouded his mind. He looked back down at the world below. “Then you all shouldn’t have hurt us, either,” he said, his voice little more than a whisper.
The girl screamed as he pushed her, sending her flailing over the edge of the floating realm.
Indigo light shone from Yami’s irises. All across his body, that same glow ignited in lines along his skin, their shape arranged in a twisted mockery of the gods’ divine markings. As the goddess’s voice faded out of earshot, he stepped over the edge after her. His hand waved, and tiny, primitive shards of metal answered his call, erupting from the ground and arranging themselves before him in the shape of a small platform.
The metal disc sank downward, ferrying the boy towards the mortal realm below. As it grew closer, he could make out the small crater that marked the spot where she’d landed. He stepped off the platform and approached her.
The goddess still lived, her body battered and bruised. Her divinity had kept her alive, but at her age, it was capable of little more following such a fall. Sparks of golden-white light, the only remnants that remained of her divine aura, flickered around her body as she laid on the ground. She was helpless in every sense of the word, incapable of doing little more than crying and pleading, her body as vulnerable to death as any mortal.
Amaterasu’s tear-filled eyes stared into his soul. “Why?” she asked.
Yami couldn’t bring himself to meet her gaze. He focused on the ground in front of her, his hand waving again as shards of metal formed a suit of crude, jagged armor around him. A large halberd materialized in his hand as he stopped in front of her.
He raised the weapon. “I’m sorry,” he said. His words weren’t a half-truth this time.
They both squeezed their eyes shut as the boy swung the halberd towards her neck.
Yami’s eyes shot open an instant later as he heard and felt metal clanging against his own. A tall man wearing an elaborate headdress and the mask of a bird stood before him, the newcomer’s katana holding back the boy’s axe from its intended target. The would-be killer leapt backward, and the stranger followed after him. The swordsman arcing his blade in swift, precise strokes, keeping close enough to prevent Yami from making proper use of his polearm.
Although the power Yami’s mother had granted him rivaled that of the Celestial gods, the difference in age, skill, and experience between the two combatants was like night and day. Yami’s instincts told him he was utterly outmatched, so he did the only reasonable thing and listened to them. He swung his halberd down, and a wave of dark energy shot from it, aimed square for the wounded goddess. The masked man had no choice but to disengage in order to reach and block it in time. At that moment, Yami rearranged the metal around him into a large sphere lined with indigo runes. The ominous orb rose into the air at his command and flew off, carrying the boy away to safety.
Within the palace of the gods, Izanagi paced the main hall, walking back and forth with a sense of purpose and worry that only a concerned father could have. Amaterasu never failed to return home before sunset. Today, though, she was nowhere to be found, even as the golden orb crossed halfway below the horizon.
A knock rang from the pagoda’s giant bronze doors, and the great god rushed towards the sound, flinging the doors open. A masked man stood on the other side, clad in golden armor marked with the insignia of the Moon Tribe. He held a wounded and shaking Amaterasu in his arms, and the great god could sense that his daughter’s aura was faint and delicate, as close to fading as an exposed candle in a storm.
Izanagi called for Yomigami, and the god of rejuvenation rushed into the room. Upon seeing the sun goddess, Yomigami took her from the stranger and carried her back into the palace to see to her wounds.
The great god nodded to the masked man. “I owe you a debt of gratitude, warrior of the moon.”
The other man removed his mask and headdress, revealing a slender face and long, golden hair. “Minamoto no Yoshitomo,” he said. “You should save your thanks for my son, Ushiwaka. Were it not for his gift of prophecy, I fear I’d never have known the danger the young goddess was in.”
“Then I thank you both,” Izanagi said. “Consider you and yours to forever be friends of Takamagahara. If ever you find yourselves in need, my door is always open to you.”
Several years later, the words of his promise to Yoshitomo echoed through Izanagi’s head as he watched a wounded, sobbing boy crawl from the smoldering wreckage of the lunar vessel that had crashed into the surface of the divine realm. The boy had long, golden hair, and in one hand, he held the same mask Yoshitomo had worn that fateful night, the feathers of its attached headdress stained a dark crimson. The child’s body convulsed, and his eyes widened to reveal an endless reflection of the void, sailing between flashes of possibilities and eventualities.
There was no mistaking it. Izanagi turned to where the brush gods were watching the scene and waved for Yomigami. “Take the boy inside and treat his wounds. Ensure that he is well taken care of.”
Amaterasu was already there, kneeling in front of the fallen child, holding his hand as she spoke words of hope and reassurance. She followed behind Yomigami as the god of rejuvenation picked up the boy and carried him into the palace.
Izanagi approached the metal wreckage, a shiver coursing through him as he touched the otherworldly, bluish-grey metal. He could feel it – the whispers of his wife’s power, evidence that this craft had witnessed a tragedy unlike any other. Just those echoes were enough for him to know the fate of the child’s people. Yoshitomo and the Moon Tribe were gone, the first victims of the genocide Izanami had promised back when the great god had slighted her in the underworld.
The great god slammed a fist against the metal craft. Bitterness welled in him as he rued the fact that he couldn’t make good on his debt. Had he been on the moon when Izanami made her move, had he even just stationed one or two of the brush gods there, this whole tragedy could’ve been avoided. He hadn’t, though, and in that, he’d had failed Yoshitomo and his people. The child whose prophecy saved Amaterasu was now an orphan, doomed to forever be haunted by the demise of those he’d held dear.
Regret transformed into resolve, and Izanagi left the wreckage behind, striding towards the palace. Nothing he could do now would ever be able to make up what he owed Yoshitomo. Still, the warrior’s son had survived, and Izanagi would make sure that the boy had the chance to grow up and carry on the Moon Tribe’s legacy.
It was, after all, the least he could do.
Author’s Note: This was a piece I originally wrote back in January 2015, the last of three prequel stories that form the background for my take on the world of Okami. It ties together the additional Shinto-inspired elements I added in Birth of Darkness and the expanded background on the Moon Tribe cataclysm I focused on in Blood Moon.
Of the three Okami prequel shorts I wrote, this is the one I was least happy with. Connecting all of these different plot threads in a way that led to the main story of Okami led to a lot of bouncing around and the original writing was nowhere near as tidy as I’d like. I ended up rewriting almost the entire piece to clean things up and really hone in on Izanagi and Yami’s perspectives.