Authors: Amanda Sun
Rise (6 page)
Chapter Thirteen
Izanagi stumbled back to the pagoda, his spirit in shreds. He wished the boulders had struck him down, for he felt dead already.
The children weren’t on the shore. Panic grasped what was left of Izanagi’s heart.
Kunitoko stood by the ocean, beside the long blade that had killed the last of Izanami’s sons. The blade was still charred black from his fiery skin.
“Yamato,” Izanagi said, his voice tired and rough. “And the others.”
“Ameno has taken them fishing on the bridge,” Kunitoko said. “He thought it would be best.”
“You knew, then,” Izanagi said. “You knew it would happen this way.”
Kunitoko looked down at the shore, the waves calm, the water a soft blue reflection of Yamato’s painted sky. “I feared it.”
“She’s gone,” Izanagi said. “I betrayed her over and over. She deserved more.”
“That may be,” Kunitoko said. “But so did you. You lied to yourself.”
Izanagi fell to his knees, his palms pressed against the sharp grains of sand. “It was all a mistake,” he said. “Perhaps Izanami was right. We should drown the painting.”
“It isn’t for you to decide,” Kunitoko said. “Yamato and the others live here now. They will paint other things besides.”
“I’m tired,” Izanagi said, and Kunitoko nodded, turning toward the edge of the bridge. It was high in the heavens, now, and he had to walk far along the shore before he could find the beams of it reflected in the water.
Izanagi looked down at his own reflection rippling in the lapping waves. His black kimono was torn, his shoulder bare and bloody. A single maggot ran along his cheek and he plucked it off, flinging it into the ocean as far as he could manage. The ink ran down his skin like rain. He reached his hands into the water and splashed it onto his face. The cool salt of the water stung as it dripped into his cuts. He rubbed the ink off with his palms, splashing more and more water as the ocean waves stained black.
The ink swirled in the water, pooling, but Izanagi didn’t notice. He wept, heaving the water at his face, relishing the burn of the salt against his wounds.
“Why do you cry?” asked a gentle voice, and Izanagi tensed. Izanami—he’d know that voice anywhere. But how could it be? He looked up from the palms of his hands.
It wasn’t Izanami, but, oh, she looked like her, her long black hair draped down her golden kimono like silk, a red obi tied around her waist and embroidered with phoenixes. She glowed with a wonderful light, a light like the fireflies Izanami had once sent up into the sky. She beamed with innocence and happiness.
“Are you all right?” asked another voice—a man’s, but young and gentle, like Yamato. Izanagi looked to his left. The ink that had pooled in the oceans had formed another
kami
. His face was as innocent as the girl’s, his robes of blue and midnight. His black hair had been tied back in a tidy knot on the back of his head.
Two new
kami
, Izanagi thought. A new start.
He rose, looking from one to the other. “I cry because I have lost my heart. Be good to each other,” he said, his voice weary. “And do not lose your warmth.” The two looked at each other in question as Izanagi stepped away, as he lifted the long blade from the shore and followed the footsteps Kunitoko had taken to the bridge.
He watched them for a day, from the top of the bridge. He watched as they met Yamato and the others, as they explored the world. The boy, Tsukiyomi, loved the girl, that much was clear. But the girl gleamed at the idea of the world, and so as Tsukiyomi agonized over how to tell her, the girl—Amaterasu—painted the sky with Yamato and fished with Awaji, unaware of the growing and painful devotion of the boy.
It was like watching the past, watching what could have been. He longed after her the way Izanagi had longed after Izanami. But he only wished that the boy would never grow jealous and prideful, never break the balance as he had done.
Izanagi sighed and rubbed at his face, the last of the ink dripping onto the bridge.
“Why do you sigh?” asked a voice, and Izanagi turned to see another new
kami
, dressed in robes of white and crimson. He had a strong face, his hair messy and wild, his expression cold but clever.
Izanagi smiled to himself. Another like him—one who didn’t quite belong, yet trudged along, anyway. “My son,” he said. “I sigh, for I am alone.”
“I’m here now,” the new
kami
said. He attempted a sigh, as well, and the very winds trembled and swirled around the bridge. Izanagi’s smile froze on his face as he saw the delight on the new kami’s face at his power.
“Susanou,” Izanagi said. “
Kami
of the winds and storms.”
“Yes,” Susanou said, as though he’d always existed.
“Take this blade,” Izanagi said, and Susanou took the sword in his hands. “Use it to cleave the winds in the sky, and to fight for this world. You will slay monsters with it, I know.” He looked at the ink-wrapped handle as he rolled it in his hands. “That is its true purpose.”
“The blade is crusted with ink,” Susanou said.
“That and more,” Izanagi said. He glanced down from the bridge’s edge, the motion catching Susanou’s attention.
“Why do you look down?”
“Susanou, stay up here and protect this world,” Izanagi said. “Don’t lose focus of what’s important. And don’t look down.”
Susanou nodded, but they both knew he’d break the promise.
Izanagi looked around at the skies and the seas, at the children playing in the field and at the worn pagoda, its roofs tattered and warped from the fire. Nothing looked the same; he was the stranger now, he knew. This wasn’t his painting anymore, as Kunitoko had said. He stepped toward the edge of the bridge, his foot wavering above the oceans below.
“Where are you going, Izanagi?”
“Where we all must,” he answered, his hand gripping the edge of the heavenly bridge. “Forward.”
He took another step, the warmth of the wind curling about him as he fell.
* * * * *
Glossary of Japanese Words and Phrases
Chan
: Suffix used for female friends or those younger than the speaker
Chigau
/
chige
yo
: “It’s not like that” or “No.” Literally, “It’s different.”
Chotto
: “Wait a minute” or “a little bit”
Doushita
: “What happened?”
Ebi
fry
: Golden-battered fried shrimp
Genkan
: The foyer or entrance of a Japanese building. Usually the floor of the
genkan
is lower than the rest of the building to keep shoes and outside things separate from the clean raised floor inside.
Hai
: “Yes.” Also used as a filler word to show that one is listening to the speaker.
Inugami
: A dog demon from Shinto tradition. Known for their uncontrollable wrath and murderous instincts.
Kendouka
: A kendo participant
Kitsune
: A fox or fox spirit, whose power and wisdom were reflected in the number of tails they had
Kotatsu
: A heated table used in Japanese homes in the winter
Kun
: Suffix generally used for male friends
Mukashi
: “Once upon a time” or “Long ago”
Naginata
: A traditional curved Japanese spear
Nani
: “What?”
Ne
: “Isn’t it?” It can also be used as “Hey” to get someone’s attention.
Ohayo
: “Good morning”
Onigiri
: Rice balls
Senpai
: A fellow student older than the speaker
Sugoi
: “Wow” or something that is awe-inspiring
Tatami
: Traditional mat flooring made of woven straw
Uso
: An expression of disbelief. Literally, “That’s a lie.”
Washi
: A traditional style of Japanese paper
Yabai
/
Yabe
: “This is bad” or “I’m screwed”
Youkai
: A Japanese demon or monster
“The work of a master storyteller.”
—Julie Kagawa,
New York Times
bestselling author of The Iron Fey series
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ISBN-13: 9781460389836
Rise
Copyright © 2015 by Amanda Sun
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