[H] Okami Ch. 1: Page IV

Amaterasu took purposeful strides back to the boy, whose name was Mushi, who asked her to try and beat his dog's record of hole digging. Grasped in one of her dainty hands was the green leaves of a very odd shaped turnip. Mushi--noticing this--jumped back in surprise. Never in all his years, which were quite few, had he ever thought that a woman could out-dig a dog, never! Yet, here was the evidence that proved him wrong.
    "That's... that's..." he stuttered. "The Oddly Shaped Turnip Hayabusa and I've been looking for! That means... you've broken Hayabusa's record by digging up all ten turnips!"
    The boy's sheer disappointment made the woman feel bad. She had dug up each turnip yes, but it was only after the child's mother allowed her to.
    "Gosh darn it!" he cursed, kicking a rock on the ground.
    The kid let out a sigh before crossing his arms behind his head, "Fine... you're the better canine, as far as diggin' is concerned. Anyway, It actually feels good to have a new goal to aim for. So... thanks! I guess."
     A new feeling--similar, but different--occurred. It was the warm and empowering feeling felt thrice ere, only it was changed in subtle ways that made it all the sweeter to experience. It was a warm, fuzzy feeling that tickled the depths of her golden heart. A feeling of love and belief that could only come from the happiness that mortals rarely experienced now-a-days. This happiness, after finished with channeling itself through the mortal's heart, relays the rest of its energy to the world. A little bit of energy, of the happiness is given to the plants, the animals, the sky, the ground, the air, the people, while still saving the majority for the gods and goddesses above. This was exactly what Amaterasu felt, this pureness that came with a moment, or life, of elation and joy in life. All of this was what she felt--a small percent at least--and it was this that made her happy and smile.
    The boy then ran up to his dog, Hayabusa. He threw his arms around the dog's neck and gave him a squeeze. The dog barked and happily accepted his master's loving embrace. It was a sweet sight, one that she couldn't spend too much time watching. So, with hesitation, the great goddess Amaterasu moved on from the touching scene of affection. She returned to the trail and walked along it, she took in the sights the quaint hamlet had to offer. Their way of life was simple, but exquisite. That simple elegance showed its colors in the existence of a small rice field; a brewery was built next to the rice field. By the looks of it, the crops had just finished growing and now were in need of harvesting; coincidentally, someone was harvesting the crops. This person caught the divine maiden's attention, quite quickly at that. So: Amaterasu sidled up to the woman in a not-so-discreet manner.
    This mortal beauty, and it was clear that she was quite beautiful, for a mortal, was bent over a few rice stalks and had her hands delved into the murky water that the stalks protruded from. It was a gray slosh that had been thickened from the nutrients of the, fertile, soil seeping into the water; the plants already absorbed the nutrients they desired of the hour, before receding into the soil, once again, and liquefying the water. However, the water was still in a sort of middle ground between thick slosh and flowing water. The state in which the water happened to be in at the end was always dependent on how long the crop--rice stalks--took to grow. This kind of slosh-y water left horrid gunk on the skin; the damage on the skin of a maiden as fair-toned as her was doubled the norm. Luckily, though, the woman's fine, black hair was short with large locks of hair pulled up and tucked into an odd hat with various strips of white hanging down on the front and back of her head. This hat carried on it three, wrapped, rolls of some unnamed item--the trio of wrapped goods were stacked, pyramid-style. Unfortunately, however, the woman's dazzling kimono--of red and gray and tan color variants--was caught in the sloshing water. Her kimono was eloquent, and it held a sort of regal beauty that only a maiden of age could wear. That very same beauty and elegance was a mirror that reflected off of the maiden's womanly features and face, onto her clothing, the only way for a kimono to possess such beauty.
    The shadow of the goddess loomed over the harvester's scrunched up form. Eventually the woman noticed the deity's, dainty, shadow, and proceeded to rise from the murky water to see who the shadow belonged to. What this--humble--maiden found was a woman that possessed beauty that bordered on divine.
    "Well, what a pretty looking maiden. Are you a priestess? Do you have a name?" the harvester asked. "Mine's Kushi. It's a pleasure to meet you."
    "Workin' in the fields again, are ya?" piped Issun.
    "Issun!" she gasped, putting her over sized sleeves to her mouth. "Are you and this shrine maiden together?"
    "Wha-- no, no! You got it all wrong Kushi! We're just... acquaintances, yeah, acquaintances."
    "O-oh... I see."
    "Yeah..."
    "Well... this is where I grow the rice for making my sake, you know. But I have to manage the harvest all on my own. It's hard work. Maybe I should have Susano give me a hand again this year? Oh listen to me blabbering to you! I just can't help chatting to you!"
    "Well look at that..." murmured Issun, "Ole Ammy here found a friend. You go ahead and chat with her, I'm going to get some sunbathing in on your head."
    With that, Issun bounced up and into the hair-filled depths of the goddess's scalp. Kushi returned to the tedious process of harvesting the rice, but found that Ammy, as Issun called her, wouldn't leave. In fact, when she thought she was about to move on, the beauty of a woman knelt down beside her and began helping with her harvesting efforts. At first, the sake brewer remained silent as she and Ammy harvested the rice, but eventually that got boring. So, Kushi decided, or rather, felt compelled, to drum up a conversation.
    "Susano's a neighbor of mine. He's a little unusual, but... he goes around with a huge sword slung over his shoulder. He's always practicing with it. They say he's a direct descendant of our legendary hero, Nagi, and he loves his sake, too. He often pops around here to buy it." she said, rambling at this point.
    Another stalk of rice was pulled out of the ground, and the resulting force caused the puller--Amaterasu--to stumble backwards and fall into the slosh with a splash. A moment of silence passed as the sake brewer and the goddess locked eyes with each other; a blank mien was shared. Then, breaking the silence, the two indulged in a chortle. Kushi pulled herself up from the slosh-covered ground and shuffled over to the maiden, and then she offered a hand to the petite goddess. Ammy took the brewer's hand gladly; her kimono wasn't as dirty as it should have been. However, it still saddened Kushi to see such an exquisite kimono get sullied.
    "Oh, by the way, make sure to say hello to Susano when you see him," Kushi began, "I should think. He's always on his own."
    In response: Amaterasu nodded. Susano, the name was quite familiar to the maiden; however, she could not remember from where she heard the name. Nagi, on the other hand, was a name she was very familiar with. How long had it been since she last saw the brave hero? A hundred years? It made the goddess, whose lifespan had started thousands upon thousands of years ago, feel quite old. The divine beauty put all that she harvested into the pile the sake brewer had been making, then she waved goodbye to her new friend before proceeding over to the nearby river. It was there that she washed her hands of the slosh-y mud, cleaned her nails of the dirt, and washed off what little mud remained on her kimono. Then, after finished with washing, she proceeded to shake herself dry.
    It was an odd scene, although entertaining to watch. Much like a dog, Amaterasu shook her clothing, hair, and body to dry the liquid that soaked them to their cores. Issun wasn't happy about the movement, and he had to cling to the strands of her hair to keep from thrown clear. But he'd have to endure it, for he had no real say in the matter.
    Whilst drying, Amaterasu noticed something that saddened her heart. This sight was of the waterwheel of what she could only guess to be a brewery; the rice farm that the Sake brewer harvested was planted next to the building. It looked old but that was only because of a large, missing chunk of the waterwheel. The way it was broken made it look like something of enormous size took a bite out of it like a doughnut. Its thick spokes--the spokes near the top half of the wheel--were as jagged as a dog's teeth, and the spokes were broken at the middle, or just about. The divine maiden sidled up as close as she could to the waterwheel and looked at it sadly.
    Was it time or the demons that did this to the poor wheel...?
    "Huh? Oh, hey, it's this thing. This old watermill's been broken for ages," Issun stated. "Now, how could we fix something that's broken?"
    To the maiden's ears, she knew it for fact--Amaterasu was starting to regain her all-knowing prowess--Issun sounded very smug. IT was like he knew everything there was worth to know. Oh how little he knew, how little he realized how much she knew. Amaterasu was the goddess of the sun and rightful ruler--and know-er--of everything that has, is, and will exist. However, the death from century's past robbed her of that foresight, and she was slowly regaining the knowledge she lost with every scrap of her power's former glory retrieved.
    "Ain't ya gonna do anything about it? You are suppose to be a god, aren't you?" asked Issun.
    The woman's eyes rolled; Amaterasu couldn't help herself. At some point she'd need to straighten her long-distant son out, but for now she was content with his presumptuous cockiness. So she played along: she blinked her eyes, they became two glowing, pulsating orbs of white and black that glowed like the sun, her fingers were drenched in globs of ink, and the world became the color of paper. She raised her hand and leaned forward; her fingers touched and dabbed a bit of ink onto the broken wheel. The woman's hands made gentle strokes this way and that until the broken spot on the waterwheel was completely filled with black, oozing ink. And once it was filled in like the canvas it was, she blinked, then the world faded back to the world of color and substance it was. However, it didn't return unchanged. The waterwheel that once was broken was now fixed, and it cast off the ink vale that kept the newly mended section secluded--then it began turning in the direction the water flowed, it let out zealous creaks and groans of work.
    Noticing the sputtering of the old wheel, Kushi sauntered around to join the divine maiden to find that, against all odds, her trusty waterwheel had been repaired. She jumped for joy upon seeing such a sight. "The mill's been mended!" She was truly happy, for she could once again begin brewing her sake--her vehemence for brewing could be rekindled! But there came a puzzling thought: how did this happen, and who did it?
    "But... who on earth did this?" she murmured.
    A sly smile crept up Amaterasu's face, before spreading into a goofy one as she put up her hands and shrugged.
    "Oh, you didn't see who did this?" She looked from the maiden to the wheel, then to her brewery. "I'd completely given up on the idea of making my sake. But now I can get on with polishing the rice!"
    "Good for you, Kushi" chimed in Issun.
    "Well," said Kushi, "no time like the present! I better get started!"
    With a happy grin plastered to her face, Amaterasu watched Kushi happily rush to the entrance of her brewery. It made her feel good, helping the sake brewer; it empowered her actually. But it wasn't the type of empowering that she got from aiding nature or something of the like. It was the sort of empowering sensation that came from helping another with no ulterior motive in mind; a warmth inside her heart that flourished like a flower in spring. She waved a goodbye to her friend and took another look at the waterwheel.
    "Say... don't people normally offer things like sake to the gods as offerings?" asked Issun.
    The goddess thought, then she nodded.
    "So, does that mean people might give us some free food and drinks!?"
    Once again, she thought, and she shrugged. 
    "Oh... crud..."
    Now she recalled the times that mortals used things like food and alcohol as a tribute to Amaterasu and her divine children. They, her divine kin, let her consume all of these offerings--the first time. However, since that time they desperately tried to keep alcoholic beverages away from her red lips, and the thirteen gods had good reason to do so. There was no telling what she would do when she became intoxicated, she did random things at times; destructive or illogical things some times, and all sense of reason and common sense took a leave of absence. No one knew exactly how a god like Okami Amaterasu could get besotted by some brew concocted by a mere mortal, and yet she did; it was a real mystery. But it proved one thing indefinitely: mortals could make life-threateningly strong alcohol. Now that she was thinking about food, about sustenance, and about alcohol, Amaterasu craved for the earthly desires. This desire must have been strong, for the desire became plain on her face; a runnel of drool dribbled down the sides of her crimson-rosy lips and her shoulders drooped, as well her posture, and her eyes were heavy-lidded.
    "What's with that--no, surely you--is it even possible, I mean--you're a god, but-- have you not had a bite to eat in a hundred years?" inquired Issun.
    She didn't bother trying to hide it, nor did she really want to. The divine goddess was starving, truly starving, and had a desire for alcohol so fierce that not even her sake-enthusiast daughter could compare. How long had it truly been since she last felt the satisfaction of an offering or a tribute? The empowering of a mortal's praise, thanks, gratification for the Sun and goodness and existence she gave the mortals? Did they not love her anymore, or was it that her absence left a larger empty space than she anticipated? Just how much did her death affect the world of material substance? A stinging pain hit her head like a sharpened knife, perforating through her temple and sticking an inch of its tip into her brain. It hurt to think on such a wide scale, too try and view the entire world--a world which belonged to her by birth right--as she once could. Trying to imagine... no, recall the lives that had been, are, and will be pained her. If she tried to remember her birth right's history--everything that was, is, and would be--she was pained. And if she tried to hold the image of all that was her birth right inside her mind, an even greater pain afflicted her. Was she so weakened from that time, in addition to the time she was loathed by the burg's residents? I can't hold it against them, she thought. They believed me to be a witch, a consort for that dreaded demon, they had no way of knowing.
    Despite her telling herself that, Amaterasu couldn't help but feel sorrow, bereft. The fact that no one but Issun could see the divine markings of her skin confirmed what she'd always feared: people began to abandon the gods. They would start to forget, and fact would turn into legend, legend into rumor, and rumor into myth. No doubt the people still prayed to the gods, but did they pray like they use to? Did they give as much as they asked for? Did they give when they asked for nothing? No, they do not, not anymore. This was the conclusion she drew from the limited scope of her powers.
    "Hey, you did a real good job with the waterwheel. Boy! You sure come through when it counts!" proclaimed Issun.
    Now, when she had nothing to be joyful about, she smiled. Somehow--this little Poncle found just the right things to say, at just the right time. That was something for her to be proud of, Issun had a very good, however singular, redeeming quality about him.

Amaterasu and her bouncing friend strolled from the brewery's side, back onto the burg's one road. However, there was something else that distracted the maiden. She was lured off the beaten trail once again, and she made her way towards a miniature dock that jutted out into the small river. The river was shallow, but not so shallow that someone couldn't drown in it--if they weren't careful. Its blue water rushed in a lull, floating to the mouth that opened into a miniature gulf that lead out to the ocean. Nearby the rickety dock were two Y-shaped poles that protruded from the grassy ground. They looked like the poles used to hold a third, and the third was used to hang wet clothes for the air and Sun to dry out. However, that third pole was missing.  Wherever it had been absconded to, it certainly wasn't here now, was a complete mystery, and the drying pole's owner must be quite irked. However, that was a bridge she'd worry about when it came time to cross it, right now she was focused on the small pier and the one that presided over it.
    At the very edge of the pier was a short, petite woman who was hunched over a large wooden bucket. Inside the bucket was water, likely it was from the river, but the water was white and cloudy with the suds and bubbles of soapy substance; a washboard and various articles of clothing filled the bucket, too. It was rather frightening to see how small this woman was, she had to use her waist for balance as she tipped herself into the bucket.  The back of her head was very tamed; her whitened hair was trimmed, and a length of rope was tied around her head like a circlet On the woman's back was a basket of some sort, and she wore a light purple Kimono with a yellow sash tied into a bow around her back. But the most peculiar thing she had on her was the small orange placed perfectly on top of her head.
    The woman sang a little song, or rather she hummed one, while she ran article upon article of clothing along the washboard, with vicious vehemence. It sounded familiar; however, Amaterasu couldn't recall the time or place she heard it before. She didn't let that stop her from enjoying it, though. Her eyes closed and she began bobbing her head left to right, in tune with the song, and so, too, did her tail.  But the sweet ditty did not last for long, the woman felt someone standing behind her. With a groan: The ancient looking woman reached around and placed a hand on her back, dropped the current article of cloth, turned around, and looked at the one standing behind her. To her surprise, the elder found a spry and gorgeous woman dressed in an exquisite kimono. However, she looked overly skinny and rugged. How could the woman even afford the clothes on her back? It was likely she stole them, that was the only real explanation.
    "Oh my, what a pretty girl." said the woman. "Did you wander into town looking for some food? Well, you'd better be careful dear. Lately, some monsters have been attacking the village."
    "Do you even know who you're talking to, gramma Orange?" asked Issun. "This is Shiranui reborn! Sweet-cheeks and me got it covered. Those monsters are history!"
    Upon spotting the bouncing green speck, it was hard for a woman her age to see small things, the old woman had a slight jump. "Well, if it isn't Issun! Riding on top of a pretty maiden, are we?" She gave the woman a good scrutiny. "This one certainly resembles Shiranui, especially the hair. Hmm... well, I'd better get back to my work," she trailed off with a grumble.
    Then the ancient woman turned back around, cracked her back, and resumed her tedious scrubbing. However, Amaterasu did not leave. She wished to know what was bothering her friend, but she didn't want to force her to talk if she didn't want to. What was the point in giving mortals the pleasure of free will if she wouldn't let them exercise it? Eventually, the elderly woman noticed that the maiden's shadow hadn't moved, so she turned around once more; her hand on her back and everything from the last time.
    "Here to listen to the ramblings of an old woman, are you?" asked Mrs. Orange.
    "Well, I was doing laundry, but when I was ready to dry, I noticed my drying pole was gone," said Mrs. Orange. "Oh, whatever shall I do?"
    In her despair, Mrs. Orange turned around yet again and resumed her laundry washing. Issun was silent for a moment, like he was contemplating something, but then jumped up as if he realized something.
    "She's missing something that should be there, is she?" said Issun. "You'd better help her out, sweet-cheeks."
    In truth, Issun didn't even need to say anything. By the time he realized, Ammy was already standing in front of the two support poles. She blinked and the world of creation came to her again. She reached forward and stabbed her ink covered fingertips  onto the Y-shaped head of the left-most pole, then she drug her finger across the gap to the second pole. And she blinked once more. The world of paper, ink, and white faded away like the melting snow in spring. Immediately after coming out of that world, the finely drawn line exploded to reveal a brand new drying pole. Amaterasu couldn't tell if it was like the last one Mrs. Orange owned, for the entire thing was a segmented section of bamboo, but it appeared to be enough for the elderly woman. For upon noticing the existence of this new pole, Mrs. Orange pulled out of and took a step back from the laundry and water bucket, and she gazed upon the newly appeared pole with reverence.
    "A new drying pole!?" cried Mrs. Orange, voiced filled with glee.
    The woman clasped her hands together as she stared at the pole with joy spilling out of her eyes.
    "The gods must have answered my prayers," said Mrs. Orange. "How wonderful! It's time to dry the laundry!"
    Without a moment's delay, Mrs. Orange proceeded to pull each article of clothing, dripping with water, out from the small tub and then draped each article across the pole. It was a quick movement, probably quicker than someone her age should have, and she was done in the blink of an eye. However, there was something that was troubling the elderly woman. Maybe it was the fact that, after several minutes, the clothes were still sopping wet? Whatever the reason, her frustration was felt by Amaterasu and magnified by ten. She simply couldn't believe that the clothing wasn't dry yet, why wasn't it dry? She had her drying pole back, so why wasn't it working? No, she though, these are not my thoughts, these are the thoughts of a distressed human. Amaterasu approached Mrs. Orange and knelt down, now she was at eye level, and leaned forward to look at the elder's frustrated mien.
    "Well, I'm glad I was able to hang my laundry," said Mrs. Orange, "but... the sun seems so far away these days. Maybe it doesn't like all those monsters that are lurking about? Is the Sun goddess frightened of those monsters? Or... does she fear what her children have become? Not many people pray to the gods for their sake now a days..."
    A deep sadness filled Amaterasu's soul.
    "If only it would shine closer, my laundry would dry in a second," murmured Mrs. Orange.
    "Hey," whispered Issun, "you heard the lady, she wants the Sun."
    Ammy nodded in response. She blinked and the other world presided over the colored one, her pupils glowing like two suns. The Sun was quite far away, this was true, but she hadn't taken the time to ponder why. Amaterasu was the Sun goddess, and it was both her conscious and subconscious self that controlled what the Sun did. If she wasn't around, there'd be no Sun whatsoever, but if her subconscious mind felt like the mortal world deserved less or more of the Sun's radiant light, then it would wan or wax it accordingly. However, she never consciously knew whether she was doing such an act. All Ammy could do was consciously fix whatever might be off with the Sun. And sometimes she did this solely to make a single mortal's life an iota better than it was previously.
    The great god Amaterasu lifted her hand up, pointing it high in the air, and willed a blob of ink--from the replenishing ink vials strapped to her hips--to drift up to the tip of her finger. She stabbed her pointer through the black blob, then continued by drawing a large circle to the area that would aid Mrs. Orange's laundry. And when the inky circle was stamped into the world, then that world faded to the colored one, the inky circle grew pitch black before blooming into the red, orange, and yellow fiery flower that was the Sun; the world was lit up to the soft azure of morning by the Sun's closeness. It was almost close enough to see the interconnecting streams of fire that surged outwards before getting sucked back into the great fiery ball. Startled by the sudden advance of the Sun, Mrs. Orange jumped and looked up to the great colorful orb, one hand raised to shield her eyes from its bright majesty.
    "My word!" cried Mrs. Orange. "The sun has suddenly drawn so close... My laundry will be bone dry in no time!"
    She was quite cheerful, her voice was just flowing with vehemence. "First my pole, now this? Will the miracles never cease? Maybe I should make some Cherry Cakes to offer to that goddess of the Sun..."
    The very thought of food made Amaterasu's mouth water.
    "Oh! Come back tonight if you want some, too, Snowfall," said Mrs. Orange. "You don't mind me calling you that, do you? I mean you have such long hair, and I've never seen someone with pure white hair before."
    "Snowfall? Ha! That's a good one, granny, I'll have to remember that one!" cried Issun.
    Amaterasu didn't mind the nickname, she was getting plenty of them lately, but she did mind the thought of food. What would they taste like? And what would it smell like? Could it smell like the sweet scent of a flower right after blooming, or the fragrance of a ripened fruit, freshly picked from the plant it grew off of? There were so many questions, and each one buzzed around her mind like an angry wasp. These thoughts were so distracting, that she actually missed the familiar feeling of a mortal praising her divine powers. [45 Praise.]

The great god Amaterasu stayed with Mrs. Orange for a while longer, now she was washing the remaining laundry at her leisure, before deciding to move on. Ammy proceeded to the bridge that crossed the river. She noticed that on both sides of the bridge, there were wilted sacred trees with pitch black bark rooted in the ground, a grim aura was about them. They were almost mirror images of every of sacred tree in the village; surely there wasn't so much evil in the world that every sacred tree has wilted away to nothing? It worried her that such divine trees could be rendered to such a sorry state. But it also reminded her of the state the mortal world was forced to wallow in. The hundred year long slumber she'd been cast into, an unfortunate side effect of the fight with Orochi. There was no question about it; Amaterasu had to set things right once again.
    Ammy sauntered across the bridge, trying not to look at the deceased trees, and meandered along the sole road. The more she stayed inside the town, the more memory of it she recalled. Now she knew the entire layout of the town, what environments it consisted of, what species; how many and the population of each, of animal resided within it, each resident's name, the lives each villager has led and will lead in the future, how long the village had been around, and some of the village's history. Some of the things she remembered caused a deep sadness to take root like pesky weeds. It made her wonder why the occupants, one in particular, of the little hamlet would commit themselves to such actions. Had her absence left such a soul-crushing void, from which there was no escape? Did she bring more despair, rather than peace and happiness into the world after that battle a hundred years in the past.
    "Heave! Heave!" cried a high voice, stirring Ammy from her unpleasant reverie. 
    Amaterasu stopped moving immediately after hearing the voice and rubbernecked at the source. Unsurprisingly, the mouth of the ravine was clogged by boulders the size of monoliths. Sometimes she wished she had the bliss of ignorance, for the omniscient knowledge of mortals' intentions and actions and lives left no room for wishful thinking. Nothing could be hid from the great goddess, the mother of all things; therefore, the darkness inside a mortal's soul.  Amaterasu knew the how and the why the boulders were present in the mouth of the strait, and she wished she didn't.
    "This is weird!" said the man, he looked like a flamboyantly dressed merchant. "My mind really wants to shift this rock, but my body won't cooperate. It's like I'm made of lead! Could this be the case of a demonic possession? I sure hope not!"
    It was right then that the cause for the man's inability to shunt the rock became clear. And, unfortunately for the merchant, it was the cause of mischievous demons toying with the mortal's body. However, there weren't just the normal demons this time. Among two green imps was a stronger demon, a redder demon, a demon that wielded a demonic sitar. Other than the different symbol on the mask, its clothing composed of several shades of red--instead of green--and being slightly larger than its green counterparts, the red imp was no different than a green imp. The demon made his entrance in a gaudy stream of low chords and a twirling flourish of its sitar, while clinging to the neck like a branch. And with one final pluck of its sitar, the red imp grabbed the head of its sitar, leaped into the air, slung the sitar over its shoulder, and landed in front of Amaterasu; two other green imps joined the fray.


The light of day dimmed to a crimson hue, it was like someone took privy to painting the entire world red. A sickly sweet melody danced on the lulled zephyr like the leaf falling from the branch. This malevolent song played in a kilter of the high-pitch pips of flutes and the low chords strummed on a string instrument; only demons could produce such a bitter-sweet sound. The red clad demon shuffled to the side, its knuckles dragged across the ground, and sized up the goddess. Clearly it remembered Ammy, surely it knew of her power, but it acted a bit more cockily than it should have. There was no question about it; the red imp could sense the absence of her true power. It probably felt like killing her would be an easy feat, but it was horribly mistaken. One of the green imps positioned itself behind Amaterasu and brought the flute to its lips and blew out a sour note with all its might. And the note was so sour, a familiar ball of blackish-purple negative energy was propelled from the end of the flute.
    Ammy, focused on the red imp, could sense the sudden presence of pure negative energy; however, she could not react in time. The blackish-purple ball made contact with the maiden (it collided with the back of her knee) and caused her to stumble forwards. When it made contact, the negative energy caused the only layer of divine protection protecting Amaterasu to disperse. Seizing this opportunity, the red imp took hold of its sitar's neck, jumped up, and proceeded to whip its sitar off its back and slammed the head into the small of Ammy's back. That was more than enough to severe her from her balance, and Amaterasu continued to stumble until she fell flat on the ground. When she was hurt, this time, Ammy felt the pain. It was like a white-hot fire poker perforated her small of the back. But she couldn't let this pain stop her. The imps, seeing the anguish they caused, proceeded to cavort like happy-go-lucky fools: bumping their chests together, beating their fists against their pecks, headbutting each other, and screeching and hooting and hollering like chimpanzees. And in their merriment they did not pay attention to the divine maiden, whose body was slowly rising from the dirt.
    Amaterasu picked herself up off the ground and faced the imps. She could feel the weakened state her body had been reduced to; a century of death sapped her divine powers till she was nearly as weak as a mortal. Her legs were shaky, Ammy had to fight to keep standing, and she had to keep her arm around her abdomen to keep her torso from hunching any further. It irked her to see that these piteous demons could reduce her to such a state. As the imps continued their silly cavorting, Amaterasu returned to the world of creation. Two of her three ink bottles emptied themselves, and the blobs of ink proceeded to drench the entirety of her left hand in pitch black ink. There were streaks and slivers of black that found their way onto her forearm, but the majority was layered on the skin of her hand. Ammy drew a single fat line across each green imp. Then she let the world fade back to color and watched with sadistic joy as her child Tachigami's invisible essence cleaved the imps in two. [6 Demon Fangs, 4505 Yen] The red imp's cavorting died immediately and it jumped back, startled. Its red garbs were stained with the black blood of its brethren and it was mortified. And it was still mortified even after their essence was purified and their blood turned into currency and foliage. How had the goddess survived their combined attack? Why had they underestimated her? They would die for such a grave error, but not before the red imp achieved vengeance.
    However, the goddess had other plans for the demon. Amaterasu was consumed in a momentary rage (it derived from her hurt pride) and wished death upon the demon. Thankfully--for her--the death of the two demons empowered her with a percentage of their cleansed essences. With the invigorating and rejuvenating power of their essences, Ammy's body was healed. She reached back and took hold of the divine mirror hovering off her back. Her wrist flicked this way and that as if cavorting to her own little tune, then she slammed part of the mirror, indestructible, into the verdant ground. A tremor was sent out from the impact, and the ground trembled in response. And so, too, did the surviving imp. It did not get time to fear, however, as she couldn't hold herself back. While shooting a vehement leer at the imp, Amaterasu lifted the mirror from the ground and charged forward.
    The red imp was petrified with fear; it never experienced fear before. Such a sublime, yet bitter-sweet sensation. Was this what mortals' felt whenever demons interfered with their daily lives? How quaint. Why did they have the pleasure of feeling this emotion, and why couldn't demons feel it normally? It was rather unfair that--unless threatened with death--demons couldn't experience fear. The imp no longer had time to stew in the feelings of jealousy and terror. Amaterasu was upon him like the wind, sudden and immediate. The mien etched into her delicate skin was one of blood lust and destruction; she was an angel of death. There was no escape and there was no hope for survival, not now, not after enraging the great Sun goddess. But she wasn't just the goddess of the Sun: she was the origin of all that is good, mother of us all, origin of all other Kamis, rightful owner of creation, and protector of the good. In a sense--Amaterasu was the only needed god; in fact, every other god and goddess was, essentially, a mere child birthed from the holiest of wombs. She raised the mirror high above her head and let the shining back reveal itself; the glean from the blood tinted light was blinding, before the Sun-etched side took the reflective side's place. Then, without hesitation, she brought the edge of the mirror down on the very edge of its shoulder where the arm connects to the rest of the body. The pain the mirror gave, and the anguish it drove into each individual fiber of the demon's body, as it seamlessly hacked through the imp's shoulder, then abdomen, then stomach, then hip was insufferable. And it could have only been compared to bathing in a bath of scolding holy water, blessed by a god of exorcism. There was no surviving such an attack; the red imp was quite dead. And it was evident from the black blood, the same that spewed out of his allies' bodies moments prior, that burst from the gaping maw of its severed body. It was like popping the elastic seal of a weary water balloon.
    Before the imp's torso, lower or otherwise, could make contact with the ground, it vanished in an explosion of purification. Its body went white with the purifying light of the goddess's divine intervention, and then the two halves made contact with the ground. After the first touch, the red imp's body began to dissipate into the vivid colors of floral growth, and it flopped onto the ground after a second time making contact with the ground, then it went inanimate. But before the final purification could render the entirety of its body into floral growth and purify its blood into the form greed and sin could only take, it witnessed a scene most peculiar.
    Amaterasu strode forward and knelt by the imp's head. In her eyes was the watery levels of tears, and a mien of bittersweet success was plastered to her flawless face. Did she regret killing him and his friends? That was preposterous; why would a deity care about some lowly demons? Her hand reached out to touch the piteous imp's mask, but as soon as her fair, dainty fingers touched the paper, it fall apart as if it had been soaked in water. The rest of the imp's body began to do the same, slowly he was being purified.
    <I'm sorry I was so rough.>
    In the final moments of life, the imp was hearing things. But, no, it definitely heard a voice. The voice was melodious, clear, calm, seductive, everything a man would look for in a woman's voice and more. And upon discerning the qualities and goodness and concern of the voice, the imp realized that it was the goddess herself that was speaking to him. However, it was through his mind.
    <I don't know what came over me... but, I hope you can forgive me. A mother hates it when she has to slap one of her children.>
    In the end, when its mischievous life came to an end, it got to hear the most wondrous voice given to the most beautiful woman ever conceived. For once: The red imp was happy. [5100 Yen]


Once the demons' negative energy was purged, the land was released from the icy and steely grip of a wicked evil. Being as weak as she was, Amaterasu couldn't step back and withstand the remarkably vast, maddening visage of the polluting lake of evil, which carved the countless runoffs, dark and cruel, of demonic negative energy. However, the little things she did here and there was enough for her to be satisfied; that is to say the cleansing and revival of the trees, animals, and plants at the mouth of the ravine. [75 praise] If and when she recovered the power she had a century ago, that's when the maiden would deal with the source of evil. Until then, though, Amaterasu would be making subtle, calculated strides closer to the evil she sought. An ancient presence that she knew, and the goddess knew that the presence shouldn't be as evident as it was. However, her knowledge of how she knew such a fact had yet to return to her.
    "Whoa, Ammy!" exclaimed Issun. "You're glowing!"
    It had gone unnoticed for the moment, but the bouncing speck Issun's cry made Ammy aware of this glow.
    "Does..." he trailed off, "Does that mean your divine power can grow stronger?!"
    Hearing such excitement in her partner's voice caused a chortle to breeze past her supple lips. In response, the maiden nodded. Issun jumped extra high in the air. She closed her eyes and focused on the happiness and belief and praise that she'd accumulated from the environment and the people; seeing that even this patch on the world was beginning to believe in the gods once more brought an indescribable and overflowing joy to her heart. A thin line of water ran from one end to the other of her right eye, and then dribbled out a runnel that swiftly followed the lines of her cheeks. Their love and praise, worship and belief, all of it coalesced into a bright ball of ever-changing colors, vivid and flamboyant, that swirled around her essence until, finally, becoming one with the goddess. The world shuttered softly in response; still unaccustomed to the maiden's presence.
    What kept her weak was the mortal's declining belief and trust in the gods. Each mind Ammy caused to rethink and reevaluate the gods' existence brought her closer to her divine children. Even now, she could feel the loving warmth of Yomigami and Tachigami grow closer. It was hard to describe in words; there was nearly no word in the mortal language that could do the feeling justice, but if she were to try: Amaterasu compared it to a hug that is there, but very far away. One could even say that it was like receiving a letter from a loved one that is very far away. You see what they wrote. You feel the emotion they put into each word. But it just isn't the same as hearing them come from the one who wrote them. There's a constant undercurrent of a bitter-sweet joy looming overhead. Soon, though, the maiden would be reunited with her children. Very soon.
    The praise and love and joy became a part of her soul, and Amaterasu's power and essence grew until the aspects that made her divine expanded. This increase in essence and power manifested as a fourth ink-pot, greater divine health, and various other extremities that she'd lost over the century. (1)
    "I guess you're getting stronger, cause I just saw your essence skyrocket!" proclaimed Issun. "Even with the few things you've done, you're already so strong!"
    A moment of silence passed while Issun seemed to contemplate something. "Oh, I almost forgot!" he cried. "We better check in on that dude!"
    Once again, Amaterasu found herself chortling in response to Issun's sheer energy. He was so rambunctious. She has never, in all her years, met someone more spunky than the green Poncol.

The divine maiden turned away from the rejuvenated environment and made a listless gait towards the merchant. Without the oppressive presence of the demons, the rotund and flamboyantly dressed merchant pulled a parasol from the purple pack on his back, popped the top open, and regarded the maiden with a bitter-sweet smile.
    "Ah... I feel as light as a feather now!" The corners of his mouth played down with a frown. "Sadly, that doesn't make it any easier to shift this boulder. Who went and blocked the only path out of here anyway? There's no way I can get back to the city now."
    The man's posture slumped in despair, and he continued to eye the maiden. Not long passed before the light of realization lit up the man's eyes.
    "Hey, girl, you live in the village, right?" asked the merchant, hopefully. "So you must know that guy, Susano. Can you get him to come here?"
    Amaterasu nodded, for she knew of him.
    "Great!" he exclaims "They say he's the descendant of the legendary hero, Nagi. If anyone can do something about this rock--" the man reached over and patted the mighty boulder. "It's him."
    Once again: The goddess nodded in response. She turned around and begin a purposeful gait towards the man's home. Halfway to her destination, Issun's mutterings began growing, progressively, more audible.
    "That's strange..." he murmured, "that boulder wasn't there before."
    Hearing the tune of jumbled thoughts and perplexed confusion, bubbling up into Issun's tone, wasn't something Amaterasu was use to. Being around mortals, even ones long-lived like her Poncol companion, possessed an undercurrent of frustration--frustration towards the ignorance of mortals. However, it wasn't there fault. The mortals weren't gods, and they most certainly did not possess the omniscient knowledge that the maiden held. No mortal could prevent their inherent greed from taking over if the ability to know all that was, is, and will be was given to them. But the fact that she couldn't hear a joke, without already knowing that the person was planning on telling it to her, the way it went, and the punchline, made her wish she could shoulder-off such knowledge to someone else--at times. Whilst submerged in thought, Amaterasu didn't notice how close she was to the wooden sign posted in front of the wood arch of Susano's home.
    "Watch out, ya klutz!" proclaimed Issun.
    Before she could respond, Ammy walked into the sign. It wasn't overly high, but it was high enough for the top's edge to catch her in the chin. She blinked once, then twice, and then, finally, she registered what occurred. However, it was a mere shifting of the facial muscles. There was no flinching or the resounding "Oh!" of minor pain. It was like a brick wall walked into a stiff rod. The maiden shook her head and circled around to the front of the sign and read the scrawled text. The Great Worrier Susano, it read.
    "Ha, self-proclaimed!" retorted Issun. "And, geez... it's not even spelled right."
    The bouncing speck took a moment to rest, and he was, in response to his chastising, awarded with Amaterasu suddenly pinching him between her thumb and pointer finger. Because of how her fingers held him: the maiden's digits muffled his riotous protests. She took Issun out of her luscious hair and fiddled with his tiny form until she got bored and, then, decided to flick his form past the wooden arch and underneath the first step leading up to the mighty warrior's, Susano, house. Then she continued her trek up to the building--it was quite the odd shape. The sheer oddness of the building's design couldn't be described in words; there was no way anyone could forget such a shape. However, it was the boisterous snoring (it made the structure creek and groan as it settled) resounding from within the building that was truly memorable. And even though it was muffled--it was loud.
    "Hey! What's the big idea, throwin' me around like that!" Issun's was hopping mad.
    Amaterasu didn't give her tiny friend the pleasure of her attention. The obnoxious snoring was too transfixing. It was by sheer luck alone that the Poncol didn't get stepped on, as she began taking strides up to the building. This made Issun furious.
    "Hey!" exclaimed Issun. "You can't just--"
    The snoring interrupted him.
    "Just--" once again, interrupted. "Susano! Why must you snore like a bear?!"
    With a furious pace, the little man hopped up to the building's few steps and found his way on top of his partner's head. And he huffed as he sat down--steaming like a teapot held over an open flame.
    "Not that you care... but this is the home of the two-bit, middle aged warrior, Susano," said Issun, still miffed. "As you know, he goes around claiming to be the descendant of Nagi. He's famous around here for his lineage, but he's awfully lazy and too off-the-wall to be a descendant of a legendary hero."
    The maiden found it comical that Issun, of all people, was criticizing someone for being too off-the-wall and lazy. Susano was among the people Ammy remembered first. His deeds in this land were small and, mostly, complete accidents. He never went out of his way to help people, other than a certain brewer, unlike the descendant Nagi. She reached out and slid her fingers into the sunken slit of the wooden door. It was high time to judge the value of Nagi's descendant. I hope you are as noble and virtuous as your great grandfather, she thought--hopefully.