Ficticious Chaos
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Chapter 56: Dreaming
🕑 Added 2025-10-11 03:49:27 +0000 UTCTiamat stood before the tall windows; her reflection framed against the twin moons hanging bright over the Underworld. Their pale light caught the sharp lines of her face and the smooth curve of her shoulders, lending her dark skin a faint silver sheen. Beyond the glass, her eyes briefly swept over the assorted dwellings of lesser Devils.
As her chest rose with a calm breath, her brows drew heavy and furrowed. Despite her composure, worry coiled within her chest, cold and biting.
The bond she shared with her beloved remained silent. No whisper, no pull, not even the faintest trace when he was usually so quiet yet encompassing within her mind. It was deeply unsettling.
It had been nearly three years now since they had first wove their minds together in the familiar ritual. He had been so woefully naïve and ignorant then of the ramifications of tying himself so intimately with a being of her stature. But as time marched on, their minds came closer and closer together. So easy it was for her to glimpse his thoughts, to dream his dreams and walk his memories.
Even as he could and did the same with her.
But now, she was cut off from him. And though she knew what they would eventually become to one another, for the first time, she fully felt the deeper consequences of her gamble.
That he was no longer a constant presence within, that she could not hear the phantom of his laughter in her soul…
Tiamat closed her eyes briefly, a frigid sense of emptiness pervading through her. She had lost true love once… she did not believe she could survive losing it once more.
But she pushed away thoughts of encroaching madness, turning instead to the matter at hand.
The Infinite Ouroboros.
And though she was ancient even by the count of the preternatural, not even Tiamat could claim to be truly familiar with her Void-born kin.
Why had Ophis manifested in her beloved’s realm? She remembered the shadows beneath the boughs of Iravex’s woods twisting and writhing serpentlike - into a manifestation of the divine dragon that merely watched silent. And yet, she could not begin to fathom what the timeless thing wanted with her, or worse, with young Millicas.
As her thoughts raced and anxiety continued to climb, it took the wisdom garnered through ages to finally settle the beating of her heart.
Ultimately, there was little point in trying to apply reason to a being that existed beyond sense. The Void acted without logic. Ophis would destroy a thousand stars only and sit patient eons, waiting as dust became new stars and new worlds; and waiting billions more for eventuality to give rise to a tree whose fruit it may enjoy.
The paracasual whims of that which sat outside of eternity. Ophis was there long before the multiverse was seeded, and it would endure longer after it was gone.
She let out a huff. How vexing.
Behind her, the sound of the doors opening broke her out of her thoughts. In the window’s reflection, she watched as the figure of a lone Devil strode in. Hands clasped delicately together below the navel, but shoulders squared assured in confidence. The female Devil had long brown hair whose tresses fell softly against pale cheeks and framed violet eyes that were all too familiar.
Tiamat did not deign to turn and face her.
For several moments, neither said anything. Tiamat was content to stare out into the moonlit Underworld, while her visitor waited patiently behind for her acknowledgement. Something unpleasant rumbled within her chest, and she fought to keep her growing displeasure from her mien.
When it became abundantly clear that she would not be left alone, Tiamat finally said, “You have words for me, Venelana?”
Sirzechs’ mother dipped her head politely, though her voice was steady and without a hint of submission. “Of gratitude, my Lady. Words cannot express how thankful my family is that you kept our Millicas safe and brought him here to safety.”
Safety in face of Ophis was as subjective of thing as possible, a thing they both knew. “I am in no mood for the games of Devils. If you have aught worth saying, then say it.”
Venelana opened her mouth partially, before closing it slowly. When she spoke again, it was in a decidedly softer tone. “No games, my Lady. Long ago, when we feared desperately for Sirzechs and could not give him the guidance needed to properly wield his own might, it was you, in your compassion, who granted him your wisdom and words. Now, centuries later, you are doing the same with Millicas. Despite the ancestral slights… against you… and the Lord Wrath.”
As soon as she heard the words, Tiamat recalled an ancient battle. Of towers of thunder falling on the raging waves, of venom filled dragons burned away beneath crimson wings and the death cries of so many – too many – children.
She crossed her arms even tighter. “Anger makes for a wretched inheritance,” she responded, and then her voice turned hollow as she said, “A lesson I did not learn soon enough.”
Finding herself lost in ancient sorrow, and did she not miss her beloved now all the more? How swift was he normally, to envelop her mind with his gentle strength, pouring his love and cooling old wounds with his soothing touch?
Grief is a loyal companion, she thought bitterly.
But as she looked back to the glass, she could see uncertainty in those violet eyes reflected at her. Tiamat saw Venelana’s knees twitch beneath her robes; a hesitant and aborted step. The softness in the curves of the Devil’s expression was far too familiar. For a brief second, past the worries of the moment, the draconic part of her nature dredged forth. Resentment and aggression were easy shields when faced with things that made one distressed, after all.
She had to fight the sudden growl building in her chest.
But all of this went unseen by the Devil behind her who stirred her blood, and Venelana finally did take a step forward as her lips parted, “Gr-”
“Do not!”
Lighting cracked through the sky and the window and room shook in the following boom of thunder. Tiamat turned, her face warped in a snarl. No, there were some things she did not wish to confront. Not now. Not when so much else was happening that she could barely make sense of.
Venelana took a step back, her expression cracking fearful for a brief second before she quickly made herself calm. “Apologies, I overstepped.”
Tiamat glared at her for a moment, willing away unpleasant thoughts as she turned back towards the window. Letting out a huff, as a spark of electricity arced from her lips, she said, “No matter. Now, leave me be. I ha-”
But Tiamat cut herself off as she stumbled and lost her footing, a sudden spike of pain lancing through her mind. She blinked in a daze, as she reached out with one hand to steady herself against the wall even as another came up and tightly grasped her own head.
What on…
“Lady Tiamat?” Venelana’s voice came concerned, but Tiamat paid her no heed as suddenly she felt a rush of emotions and sensations as her link with her beloved was reestablished - he slammed into her with chaos and fury. And her eyes went wide with horror as his entire existence screamed at her. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t tell where she ended and he began. His voice roared inside her, raw and wordless, and everything drowned in bedlam. Fear throbbed in her veins as Tiamat let out a pained cry.
Because all she felt from him was…
-----
Agony.
Pure, unfiltered, agony.
As he willed himself back into consciousness, the sheer pain of existing in the moment made Ichigo regret not giving into blissful oblivion.
Every ounce of his frame flared excruciatingly, and he couldn’t actually feel his own body. Just that it fucking hurt. A lot. As the world around him flickered - whites, blacks, and reds: nothing stayed still long enough to form a shape. Actually, Ichigo wasn’t even sure if he was looking with his eyes or observing the world through his supernatural senses. It all just blended together in one mess of unending torture.
Move over, Zangetsu’s presence crept over his mind maliciously, further enhanced by the dark swell of his Sin. I’ll handle it.
Even as the agony mounted unbearable, Ichigo pushed passed it, trying to form a coherent thought, an assertion of denial. Regardless of how broken or damaged he was, this was his body. He wasn’t handing over control no matter what.
Che, what body?
Ichigo frowned, or he would have attempted to if every muscle of his weren’t currently screaming and being torn apart.
Oh… crap…
Just off the edges of his own consciousness, he could feel his physical form breaking down. The blast of divine energy from the Golden Moon had been concentrated enough to destroy the physical shell made from his demonic essence.
Not just that, it was attacking his very soul, destabilizing every iota of his existence.
Fuck.
He might actually have to release his true form in order to reverse the damage that had been done to him. Though in his currently diminished state, that did carry the risk of him going berserk in his own rage. That being said…
Sirzechs is around to hold me back, he consoled himself as he prepared to unseal Zangetsu.
But even as he finished that thought, a titanic wave of malicious hate pored over him, so potent it caused his Sin to seep through his broken form and begin to manifest into the adjacent reality.
What…?
Oh.
Though half-dead, Ichigo would be able to recognize that horrific power anywhere. Bleeding into the world with the unadulterated promise of death and demise; a wretched miasma staining everything a foul color. The sky and the ground he could barely perceive, even the empty space between seconds - all of it bled crimson.
The Crimson Lucifer had come.
Sirzechs must have stepped out of his human form and revealed his true self, he realized. Which would explain why Time and Space were slowly being pressed into oblivion, as the older Demon Lord’s Power of Destruction threatened to undo reality in entirety.
And though Ichigo’s eyes had begun to disintegrate and burn away, he could still see Ajuka’s universe in his mind’s eye.
Lucifer had become a red star, an infinite engine of destruction and annihilation. Whatever remnants of Khaos Brigade had remained were now utterly vaporized under the Satan’s vile light. The Archangels and the Cadre had retreated a world’s distance, and, with immense displeasure, Ichigo could even sense the Divine Dividing host pull back thousands of miles.
With cataclysmic force, Sirzechs struck out against the dimensional gap, shaking the entire universe as he threatened to tear the Golden Moon from the sky. The divine body responded in kind, a pillar of Immortal Radiance falling from the skies to meet the tidal wave of Destruction unleashed by Lucifer.
Reality groaned as the two titans clashed.
Through his soul, Ichigo could sense the twisting of the Fourth World. The Golden Moon wove possibilities into actualities, assailing the Crimson Lucifer with immanent defeat and infinite deaths.
But Sirzechs Destroyed Time itself.
Sundering and severing futures, undoing each and every miracle the Immortal Moon attempted to force into reality. As the Heavens decreed, Hell denied.
And Sirzechs’ proved the mightier as his Destruction overcame the Undying light and shred through it, pressing into the dimensional gap and detonating with the force of a thousand novae.
As the Golden Moon was pushed back, Sirzechs struck once more with another surge of Destruction, a crimson ocean capable of wiping out entire swaths of constellations, and through his immense pain, Ichigo observed with some grim satisfaction. Though a part of him was disgruntled about being unable to take his own revenge.
But just as Sirzechs power rent through Time, the darkness swelled and the whole of the universe trembled once more. The Golden Moon was swiftly eclipsed, and the shadows before it twisted and formed a draconic claw of the smoothest black, each glinting dark scale swallowing the light of entire galaxies. And it’s talons easily reached out and tore Sirzechs’s onslaught to shreds.
Ichigo’s soul quivered as he beheld the Infinite Ouroboros manifest.
And in his mind’s eye, he saw the nothingness warp into a gaping and toothless smile, and with it, the shivering promise of –
#^@&!
Hush.
The game is still afoot. So close thine eyes awhile, uncrowned king. Ah. Apologies. You have none, now. No matter. They shall grow back swift soon.
But give dearest Tiamat my love. Much has been writ for her.
*!^$%
And as his already pain-addled mind railed further against the encroaching presence of the Void, Ichigo’s consciousness finally gave. And everything went black once more.
-----
The dais that held the thrones of the Crown Princes hung silent in the dark. The hum of Yfel’s endless black sky pressed faint and low, but it mattered little to the four assembled.
Sirzechs had spoken for several minutes, quick and precise to summarize what had happened. Now he watched still as the other three Satans peered through the projection of his memories. At a pivotal interval, he’d offer some clarification or some critical insight.
No one breathed a word. Even Serafall had gone still, her usual flippancy smothered by a grim and heavy anger as she watched the scenes of the summit and the subsequent attack unfold.
But even as his oldest friends watched on, Sirzechs stewed silently in his own thoughts. A deep, abiding anger churning through his mind.
Whatever points of contention that existed between him and his former protégé, it did not change the fact that Sirzechs saw in the younger Demon a sort of familial attachment. For all that he teased Grayfia about having near adopted the boy, Sirzechs could not deny the affections he felt for the youngest Satan. Even if Ichigo had walked out of his shadow to cast an equally dark one, in the corners of Sirzechs’ mind, the young Demon was still one of his people. Someone he felt responsible for.
Had he taken advantage of Ichigo’s trust and manipulated him at many turns? Yes, of course he had. He was Lucifer, and he offered no apologies for it. But that did not change that Ichigo, not just as a Satan, a mythic and metaphysical sibling, was someone he was deeply fond of.
And Ichigo was struck down right in front of me.
After he had taken the throne, it had been domineering victory after victory against all his foes, political or otherwise. This was the first time since the Civil War that someone he had sincerely cared about was grievously harmed.
It grated on him. Like a sharp finger twisting into his chest, mocking and sore.
Sirzechs did not take kindly to failure. Not in the least. It made him feel… lesser.
And he despised the notion with every fiber of his being. It made his Sin of Pride fume with a volcanic hatred.
Sirzechs loved control, he reveled in it. And the sheer gravity of authority his immense power offered him was mind-numbingly addictive. The Empire he had forcefully taken and had then refashioned in his own image… Sirzechs gazed down at his empire like Narcissus had looked down at his own reflection. The harvest of control he had over his species was near sexual in gratification.
But when the Celestial Moon had invaded Ajuka’s dimension by the Void’s authority and blasted Ichigo with divine might. He felt all of that control slip away.
And it irked his Pride so.
As he clenched his hands tight, he cast a dark look towards Falbium as the Sin of Sloth said, “At the very least, Katerea has been taken into custody. Pulling information from her shouldn’t be so difficult. Never had much of an endurance, dear Katerea did.”
Serafall sneered fiercely. “I’ll pull her spine out too, while we’re at it.”
“All in good time,” Falbium said gruffly.
Though their words barely registered in his mind. He was still seething in his anger, his wounded ego. And it demanded vengeance. He had half a mind to go to Earth and hurl its moon into the sun.
What he would give to get his hand on that miserable immortal who had –
“Sirzechs.”
And his gaze jumped at Ajuka’s stern and disapproving tone.
At the pointed look he was given, Sirzechs looked down and saw cracks beginning to splinter across the back of his hand, a dark, crimson glow shining through with the threat of leaving annihilation in its wake.
With a flicker of annoyance, he reknit his skin and willed his true form back beneath the surface. Another mark of his slipping control. And with that thought, his lips curled distastefully. But as Ajuka’s gaze turned pointed, Sirzechs ruthlessly pushed down on his flailing emotions
As his oldest friend gave him a near imperceptible nod, they both turned towards Serafall as she said, “Still divinity in league with Khaos Brigade? With the Infinite Ouroboros, no less? It makes no sense. No True Immortal would risk a final death by involving themselves with the whimsical and impossible to predict Void.”
“Precedent tells us that sense and Ophis are rare companions,” Falbium said thoughtfully. “But then, perhaps we should be looking into the identity of our divine foe? Lunar deities are aplenty, but which would risk turning against their own pantheon and hold hands with Ophis?”
Sirzechs let out a thoughtful hum, a question that he too had been pondering upon ever since he had returned to the Underworld. Khaos Brigade was one thing, but to directly cooperate with Ophis? No pantheon would tolerate such a thing. The Void was simply too dangerous, too impossible to contain to risk drawing its attention.
After a quiet minute, Falbium then asked. “And what of Ichigo himself? How long until his full recovery?”
Sirzechs frowned as he remembered the Sin of Wrath’s broken and crumbling form leaking demonic essence. “I had his Rook take him back to Infernity. He should be sealed inside his inner sanctum now, reforging his physical body. As for how long, I cannot say. He was heavily contaminated with divine energies. I imagine it may take a few weeks. Although, I wouldn’t be surprised if Ichigo did it sooner. Patience has never been his strong suit.”
Serafall nodded and looked towards Ajuka. “You’ve been quiet, Ajuka. Thoughts?”
The green-haired Satan’s eyes flicked toward Sirzechs, his tone contemplative. “Remind me, Sirzechs. The name of his sword?”
Sirzechs blinked as he withheld a frown. There was no possible way Ajuka didn’t remember the name of Ichigo’s sword; he had a perfect memory. What was the point of even ask – and his eyes flew wide as the name came to his lips.
“Zangetsu.”
The syllables hung in the dark: a resonance that flitted through the air like whispered winds.
Moon Slayer.
The others would have automatically translated the name in their heads as well, as Serafall’s expression mirrored his own and Falbium sat up straighter.
“You think Ichigo was targeted specifically?” Sirzechs asked sharply. “That this isn’t just a play against our kind or the Three Great Powers?”
Ajuka waved a hand, and tendrils of green magic wove together in a facsimile of Ichigo. “A cosmic conspiracy, one going back to before even his birth,” said the Sin of Greed, a bemused touch on his tongue. “Amaterasu has gone to great lengths to ensure that Ichigo remains tied to Japan’s mythos, despite all that you’ve done. And of Izanagi’s three children,” and he waved his hand a second time, three tendrils rising to become the Sun, the Moon and the Stormy Seas above Ichigo’s head, “one has long remained silent in the dark of the night.”
“Tsukiyomi,” Sirzechs whispered. “You think Amaterasu has been plotting to use Ichigo against Tsukuyomi? Since before he was even born?”
“Time means nothing to the divine,” Ajuka said plainly. “A single second encompassing an eternity’s breadth. To win a war that rages beyond causality, beyond then and when – you think she would hesitate to manipulate the lives of countless beings? To manipulate events to ensure Ichigo’s birth, the perfect soldier in a divine war?”
“Tsukiyomi’s involvement would also explain how the barriers around Japan were undone to let Kokabiel and his army in,” Serafall pointed out. “That could only have been accomplished from Takamagahara.”
Falbium let out a humorless laugh. “Oh, but that is clever. Ichigo has Shinto psychopomp blood. He would not have needed to forfeit his human soul to develop those powers, and it would have allowed him to ascend to Takamagahara without any fuss. T’would also explain his monstrous growth rate, that he be a literal miracle made flesh.
“But then this one,” and he jutted his chin Sirzechs’ direction, “goes and ruins everything. Yet, Amaterasu remains insistent on using Ichigo as a blade against Tsukiyomi despite his newfound infernal nature, so Tsukiyomi allies with Ophis to strike out against the Three Great Factions and remove a, quite literally, destined foe.”
Serafall shook her head ruefully. “The cruel and manipulative whims of the divine.”
“Like we’re any better,” Falbium said as he rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his dark hair. “But I wonder, what prevents Amaterasu from striking out against Tsukiyomi herself?”
“Three possibilities,” Ajuka said as he counted on his fingers. “One: she and Tsukiyomi are equal in strength, and the third sibling, Susanoo, is mostly neutral. Ichigo may be the tipping point of the scale. Two: she can’t. Though retreated from the world, Izanagi still exists and may not tolerate direct conflict between his children. Third: she does not wish to. Whatever hostilities there are between them, they are still siblings, and she may not wish to shed family blood with her own hands.”
“But she’s rather content to let Ichigo do so?” Sera asked wryly.
Ajuka merely shrugged. “It would not be the first time someone used someone else as a borrowed knife.”
“Well then,” Sirzechs said at last. “That does give us some direction then. For now, we shall wait for Ichigo to recover before directly moving ourselves. Falbium, continue to push offensive with our armies against the Old Satan Faction. We’ve dealt them quite the blow with Katerea’s forces broken. Speaking of which, Sera, I want you rip every shred of information from her possible, but don’t kill her. Might as well give Ichigo that bit of vengeance. Ajuka, push back the Youth Rating Game Tournament another month. I would like Ichigo to be present for that, and he should be recovered by then.”
They all nodded, but then Serafall asked with a frown, “Do you wish for me to reach out to Japan? I do not believe Yasaka has been informed of Ichigo’s state.”
Sirzechs shook his head. “I will have Grayfia personally deliver the message in the most private and secure manner possible; it’s bad enough the Seraphs and Cadre were there to witness him being struck down, I do not wish for Ichigo’s vulnerable state to be known further.”
“Speaking of which,” she continued, “how will we continue the negotiations from the Summit?”
“I’ll leave the details to you,” he said firmly. “But for the time being, offer Heaven and the Grigori a week’s time to mull over matters. That should also give us ample time to do things on our end.”
“And Amaterasu herself?” she asked with a raised brow. “Do you wish for me to set up an audience with her?”
He considered it briefly but decided against it. “No. Those are Ichigo’s matter. Whatever Amaterasu is plotting, I doubt it’d be so ham-fisted as simply using Ichigo as a tool against Tuskiyomi. I am convinced there is something deeper still there.”
“That’s all then?” Falbium, ever eager to return to his bed, asked.
And with Sirzechs’ deft nod, the Sin of Sloth faded back into the Underworld. And so too did the other two.
Sirzechs stood from his throne, his eyes falling upon Wrath’s emblazoned insignia. And though anger still ran deep in his mind, his lips couldn’t help but twitch in amusement as he thought of Ichigo’s vexed expression when he learned of the new complications in his life.
You really are so entertaining, Ichigo.
-----
The howling came again, sharp and echoing over the night sky.
Yasaka stood on the veranda overlooking the imperial gardens, the night air cool against her skin. Her golden eyes narrowed as the wind shifted and carried the sound closer. The first cry had stirred her confusion. The second quickly moved her swiftly through alarm and into a tight sense aggressive protectiveness.
A feral and brutal blood thirst saturated the air and darkened it with a sense of savagery.
She extended her senses into the world, weaving her chakra through the air, through Kyoto’s ancient leylines. Two distinct presences answered her probe, vast and suffocating, pressing against the boundaries of her awareness like the storm surge on the harbor. Old, immense, and a touch familiar. Both presences rivaled her in power, and she quickly realized they were not native to Japan.
These beasts should not be here, Yasaka thought frantic.
Her expression hardened. The barriers around Japan still thrummed in perfect stability. Not a single crack or tear, not even a flicker of distortion. And yet, somehow, these wolves had managed to slip into her lands without notice.
Her lips curled near feral. Just like when Kyoto was attacked years ago when Ichigo was here. Just like Akihiko…
“Karasu-Tengu,” she called with steel in her voice, and the shadow of her closest lieutenant coalesced at once beside her. The tall, masked Yōkai bowed deeply.
“Yasaka-hime.”
“Commence a full lockdown of the city and the palace,” she ordered. “I want all available personnel ordered to reinforce the wards. No one enters or leaves without my permission.”
“At once.”
Before Karasu-Tengu could vanish, another Tengu arrived - Kurokumo, her daughter’s personal guard who was essentially her glorified babysitter. His wings half-spread and his tone strained. “Yasaka-hime! Kunou-hime-”
But he cut himself off as Kunou barreled past him, still crumbs of dinner still coating her mouth as her fox ears quivered with fear from the bloodlust saturating the air. “Okaa-sama!”
The howls rose again, twin crescendos echoing across the mountains, deep enough to rattle the floorboards beneath them. Yasaka nearly snarled, canines sharpening in her mouth, but she pushed down the instinctive fury and knelt down, placing her hands gently on her daughter’s trembling shoulders.
“Kunou. Listen to me.” Her voice was calm, even as her tails flicked in agitation. “You need to be brave for me now. Go with Kurokumo and take the guards and the maids. Wait for me beneath the palace vaults. Do not come out until I call for you.”
Kunou’s voice wavered. “But, Okaa-sama…,” and much to Yasaka’s surprise, the young girl’s eyes turned fierce as she glared up accusingly, “You’re going to fight them, aren’t you? I can help; I can-”
“No.” And though her expression was still soft, Yasaka spoke with unrestrained authority. “Not now, not yet.” Yasaka brushed a lock of hair from her daughter’s face, forcing a smile she didn’t feel. “You are my sun, Kunou. But even the sun must rest below the horizon before it can rise again. Now go, be good and obey your mother.”
The little girl hesitated, but after a moment, she nodded and clutched at her mother’s sleeve before stepping away. Kurokumo respectfully bowed and ushered her out, followed by the other attendants. Their footsteps faded down the hall until only the faint echo of their retreat remained.
Yasaka exhaled and turned to Karasu-Tengu, her tone sharp again. “Send word to the other clan heads. They are to defend Kyoto as best they can. Weave as many spells needed to keep the humans indoors and ignorant.”
“Your Highness, we can aid you. We can-”
“I will meet them alone,” she said gently.
The Tengu stiffened. “Alone? The other clan heads and I can-”
“Get in my way and die in vain?” Through Yasaka spoke without any cruelty, merely smiling sadly as she pointed out the obvious. “You should be able to sense it all too well; none among you can stand against these two. I will draw from the leylines as much as I dare to and, hopefully, expel them before they do too much damage to our home.”
Karasu-Tengu stared helplessly, his fingers flexing in protest. “Then let me… let me at leashh… lrrt mmm…”
His words broke off mid-sentence as his head suddenly swayed and his wings drooped to the floor. Yasaka blinked confused as her old friend’s gaze hazed over.
“Karasu?”
He then collapsed to the floor in a heap before she reached him. And much to her shock a guard followed him down. Then another. Yasaka watched as, one after another, her servants fell unconscious to the ground.
Her pulse spiked as dread clawed its way up her spine.
“Poison?” she whispered in wonder, but the wards still shimmered untouched, not recognizing any sort of internal danger. And yet, she could just barely feel something reach out and touch the mythic folds around her.
And then the drowsiness hit her too. Her limbs felt leaden; her thoughts turned sluggish. She tried to summon chakra to clear her mind, but no matter what she tried, the lull of sleep kept growing stronger.
Yasaka fell to her knees and grasped her head with one hand. The floor tilted under her as her vision blurred at the edges. Her breath began to slow, and her vision darkened.
And as the weight of sleep and darkness overtook her, she let out a breathless prayer, “Ama-rass-saaammm…”
-----
The light of Celestial Heaven bled gold across the sea of clouds. Sky-islands drifted gently, their edges glowing where the sun’s radiance lingered, each one a miniature world of its own suspended between moments of eternity.
On the smallest isle stood Amaterasu in her immortal glory.
Her robes of white and red hung flawless in the still air, their hems whispering faintly of sacred winds. A scarlet hagoromo hovered behind her shoulders like a tethered flame, and her onyx hair fell heavy down her back, gleaming where it caught the sun’s reflected blaze. Beneath her, grass glowed emerald and soft, and a single willow arched toward a pond whose mirrored surface held golden koi. The faintest ring of ripples drifted from their mouths, breaking her reflection into slivers of light.
And she looked past it all. Her black eyes, rimmed in molten gold, gazed into the beyond - past the boundaries of time, through the countless threads of futures and the brittle husks of discarded pasts. She looked upon all that was and was not, and what shall and shall not be. And even the golden touch of other Immortals shaping Time through their competing wills.
And yet, back in her own cut of the High Celestial Planes, her near-omnipresent gaze fell behind her, to the narrow wooden bridge that curved from her isle to another.
And there the landscape shifted stark: where her gardens were green and alive, the opposite island was austere and white. Sand, raked into perfect circles, surrounded jagged boulders and a single wind-bent bonsai that clung to the ledge.
There, her other waited.
The radiant moon wore a deep purple kimono patterned with black hexagons at the sleeves. His skin was pale and unblemished; his eyes and hair, as black and depthless as hers. Even the red upon his lips mirrored her own. But where her light shone forth, his was only ever a reflection - cool and distant as the light of something long past.
“We are in no mood,” she said severely.
“Has ever been the day you were, my sister?” asked Tsukiyomi, smooth and tired. His tone carried neither malice nor warmth, merely a hint of exasperation from their countless repeated squabbles.
Only then did she turn to face him. The gold receded from her gaze until her irises were pure black, fathomless and cold. Tsukiyomi’s faint smile did not falter.
“You will lay no blame upon me, sister,” he said faintly. “It was you who drew the boy between us. Ever has our quarrel been between we shed tears alone.”
She said no words in return but instead lifted her chin imperiously.
Tsukiyomi continued uncaring. “You should have left him to the Seat he was born to – to take the Mantle of Yomi. But now even that future lies ruinous. The Fallen One has reaped his soul and has twisted it to infernal Sin. And where has that left our House, sister? Beseeching the aid of the Unseen One.”
Her gaze narrowed the light of the sun burned a touch harsher.
"You would admonish Us when it was you who gave passage to the deranged Son and his legions? What reason had We to petition Aidôneus save for mending your thoughtless meddling?”
Tsukiyomi’s lips curved faintly, amusement and derision mixing equally. “And what designs would I have upon the Slaying Spear save to counter your own chosen weapon - a blade to answer thy blade? Alas, had not Susanoo loosed the Heavenly Suppression, and left it lingering alert for any divine approach, I would have claimed the Spear for our House. Do you know how easy it was to whisper in the ears of that unworthy son? To convince him to rob his own Father’s legacy and deliver it upon our shores? All for naught, as you kept your weapon and his ancient consort in the mortal world to oppose my designs.”
She folded her hands inside of her robe and said sternly, “Our son is no weapon.” Disobedient, irreverent and lacking grace, but far from being a lowly weapon. Not when, even through the infernal trappings of his nature, he still shone with such great depths of love.
“Nay,” Tsukiyomi said as he flicked his sleeves, his lips curling in distaste. “A thing worse, even. An unwitting thrall wound about you exalted will. Tell me sister, when his purpose is done, when the blade had made its cut, shall you banish him too beyond our narrative?”
And though she said nothing, her onyx eyes turned frigid. And the koi in the pond dipped deeper into their pool, swimming to other words as the High Planes all note her mounting displeasure.
“Nihon has squandered under thee, sister,” Tsukiyomi continued, emboldened by her silence. “You can protect it effectively no more; I have proven it so. Step down from the Celestial Throne, lest you lead our House to ruin.”
Amaterasu let out a huff through her nose, whipping the winds into a torrential hurricane through Takamagahara. “All you have proven is a treacherous heart.” But then her mien turned wolfish as she said, “And even if We chose to abdicate, it would not be your turn to take the throne. How few mortals now remember the rites of the ancient moon?”
Tsukiyomi sneered fiercely. “And at whose feet lies the fault for that!”
Taking some grim satisfaction as the barb landed, she continued on, “Too long have you hid from the truth, the Moon’s luster is but borrowed from the Sun.”
Tsukiyomi froze as the words landed, but then his visage twisted hideous and the phantom of the Golden Moon rose behind him, his power surging through the waves of Time and shaking all of Takamagahara. And she answered in kind, the Rising Sun radiant and imperial, her endless warmth pouring forth and countering the cold light of Tsukiyomi.
Though she knew that they would never come to actual blows, as their blessed father had forbidden any of his children to directly shed family blood, lest they succumb to madness as did his wife eons ago.
Nevertheless, the posturing and flaring of authority was a long familiar sight to all those in her High Celestial Planes.
But then both their immortal lights shifted sudden.
From the edges of her eternal domain, she could sense some dark and savage thing gnaw at the Sun, at its very concept. A brutal and animalistic thing so alien to the high splendor of Takamagahara. And when she sent her Timeless gaze towards the offender, she found it evade and slip away… only for it to strike at some other corner of her being!
She turned furious towards Tsukuyomi, but she faltered as she beheld him as equally bothered as she was.
And instantly she realized that there was a thing beyond their divine sight that was attempting to devour their immortal light.
“What vile thing have you brought to Our door now?” Amaterasu asked angrily.
“I?” He said equally outraged.
And before her retort could form, a shadow swept the golden sky. A colossal storm massed above them, thunder growling deep within its belly. Lightning licked the edges, forming the vague outline of a laughing face.
“Dear Elder Sister! Dear Elder Brother!” came the booming voice of her other brother. “Innumerable pardons for interrupting your tender sibling bonding!”
And it took an eternity’s worth of grace to not roll her eyes. Why must all the men in her family be so egregiously vexing?
“I’ve no mind for your mischief, Susanoo,” Tsukiyomi seethed. “Lest you know why my immortal demesne is assailed?”
The storm cloud took on Susanoo’s form, his eyes furious in mad delight and hair flailing wildly in his own storm winds. “Aye! And I carry words from my brother-self who knows more of it.” And her younger brother’s mad gaze fell upon her. “He would seek audience with you, Dear Elder Sister.”
Composing herself, even as she felt that wretched thing nip at the outer edges of her immortality, Amaterasu nodded in assent.
Lightning split the clouds as Susanoo’s form convulsed, and one storm folded into another. His laughter deepened, roughened, reshaped by foreign thunder. The scent of ocean brine and ashen steel turned into mountain air and bog iron. And when the light cleared, the breathing storm’s frame became burlier and his dark hair turned a fiery red.
Where her brother once stood was now the Aesir Thor, though smiling the same feral grin.
“My pardon, Queen of the Far East,” the Aesir’s voice boomed through Takamagahara, “I have come unbidden and without invitation, but I come at the behest of the All-Father.”
“And what words does Odin have for Us?” Amaterasu asked, already having gleamed now enough to understand the direction of things.
Thor inclined his head. “The Wargs, Sköll and Hati, have emerged from the River Ván, and they now prowl your lands.”
Her eyes narrowed, and the things nipping at her Light took shape in her mind’s eye. But then, how came these two fiends to her domain? Unlike the Fallen Lord’s incursion, the protective barriers around Nihon still stood.
She turned a baleful eye towards Tsukiyomi. “What vile wickedness have you carried into Our Garden with that Void-borne horror’s power?”
Tsukiyomi’s serene lunar light rippled. “I had no part in this farce!”
Thor shook his head, blue lightning arcing from the red braids in his long hair. “Alas, I fear the Wargs have come to gorge themselves on the celestial light of both the Sun and the Moon, that they may use your power to free their monstrous father. I would urge you to look beyond the Void, Queen of the Far East.”
She gave Thor a suspicious look as the giant of a divine crossed his arms sternly, but she took his counsel and delved past Time and Space into the unknown depths of the infinite Void. And had she mortal breath in her lungs, it would have frozen cold.
“No,” Tsukiyomi said faintly, before repeating it with vehement denial, “No!”
Within the Void shone a lone star, and it stared at her, staring back. And it was Great. And it was Red.
-----
Ichigo drifted weightless through a sea of liquid gold. Each ripple shimmered with memory - moments from his past rising and sinking like breath. There was the teenage boy clutching an oversized Zanpakuto for the first time, the young man who held a dragon and fox in each arm, and countless paths branching outward: futures unmade and undone.
In one, he stood crowned amid a world of flame, a sea of wailing and tortured souls beneath his feet. In another, he was nothing but dust scattered through the stars.
And the golden sea pulsed within his heartbeat, its warmth both soft yet biting. Every vision whispered the same truth: that the tide of what he was and what he would become had begun to turn.
Suddenly Ichigo found himself standing under a white sky, and that same ocean of liquid gold beneath his feet. He looked down, and he saw his body was wraithlike, a whisper of the one he had back in the physical world.
He frowned, the last thing he remembered was the Golden Moon and Sirzechs’ bout of rage.
Wait… rage?
His Sin was oddly silent, as too was Zangetsu. What was going on? Where was he?
Almost intuitively, Ichigo moved forward, the golden sea rippling outward with each step he took. The horizon was endless, folding in on itself like the inside of a dream.
Around him, visions flickered to life and dissolved just as quickly.
He saw a world of endless sand with two suns, where stood two young men who held the destiny of entire stars.
He saw a small child with a bolt of lightning carved onto its brow, the call of friends and foes alike across eight hundred thousand turns.
He saw a girl sailing in moonlight, and she writ her name across the breadth of the universe.
And he saw a dying man with pin wheel eyes, living in equal measures of hope and despair.
Each scene vanished before he could make sense of it, replaced by another stranger still. Some felt ancient, others yet to come. The air trembled with whispers not meant for him, and still, Ichigo kept walking.
But then he stopped short, his eyes going wide as he saw an all too familiar golden hair with tufts of fox-fur.
Yasaka?
And moth to the lamp, her name in his mind drew the gaze of his wife’s image, and as the phantom beheld him, she went wide eyed with joy and reached out to him. Ichigo blithely raised his hand, and just as the tips of their fingers brushed, she crumbled into gilded dust.
Ichigo forgot to breathe - if breathing was even possible here.
The golden motes of her form scattered upward, dissolving like ash in wind, each fleck catching the light before fading into the endless white.
Yasaka!
And though he had no voice, it tore from him, raw and desperate, echoing across the empty horizon only to die against the shimmering gold.
He lurched forward desperate, hand still outstretched, but there was nothing to grasp—only a shade of warmth her image had left behind.
Panic clawed its way up his chest as the sea itself seemed to ripple in sympathy, trembling beneath his feet. No, no, no… and the denial echoed through this world, the sound breaking into silence as the gold around him began to darken.
“Peace.”
And the decree came firm yet soft, robbing him of the frantic emotions running rampant in his heart.
And with a single blink, Ichigo found the sea had gone perfectly still. Before him sat a regal golden skeleton, its gleaming bones draped in immaculate Shinto robes. And though lifeless, its bearing was unmistakably majestic: a King entombed in Destiny, gazing back at him through Eternity.
And in that gaze, in each hollow socket, he saw four pupils who discerned all things.
And two voices spoke to him at once.
“I am Adnyeus.”
Aidôneus.
“Welcome to my Dream.”
My Son Borne in Darkness.
-----
A/N: Sorry for the dealy in getting this chapter out. I had a difficult time trying to craft and recatch some of the character voices for the prose and dialogue. For Amaterasu, I had to go back and re-read those first few chapters, which I wrote ten years ago now. As such, there was a lot of back and forth and rewriting her words and getting her diction choice and cadence down.
Tsukiyomi - The opposite tear/water that fell from Izanagi's other eye. In that sense, he's the mirror of Amaterasu. They have that shared arrogance and belief that they're better and know better than everyone else, but at the same time, Tsukiyomi posseses an inherent cruelty that Amaterasu doesn't quite have. If you go back and reread, Tsukiyomi is very present in the story. When Ichigo confesses his past feelings to Yoruichi and gives into temptation to try and have her, when Susanoo descends and confronts the Angels, when Kokabiel descends and battles Tiamat, and bascially whenever Ichigo was in Kyoto, I made it a point that the Moon would be in the sky and mentioned in the background. Also yeah, when Ichigo met his human family at his mother's grave and realized it was divine intervention - Amaterasu and Tsukiyomi have been playing a looong game.
Dream/Great Red - Whereas Ophis is content to use Khaos Brigade as its toys, the True Dragon is moving much more powerful and pivitol pieces. With the revelation of Skoll and Hati, I'm sure most of you have figured out who the Monster of the River Hope is. But then, is the Apocalypse Dragon's goal... well, the apocalypse? And how do Satan and the Dead Kings factor in to its infinite dreams?
Comments
Wes Markham
Love the chapter keep up the good work
Lotus92
Damn its pure chaos.
I am lord dems
Interesting amount of cameos at the end there
