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Daifuku Week 2016 - for the prompt "beginnings"


Once, there was a ghost.

No, not a ghost. He knows he isn't a ghost, but he isn't sure what he is, either. A name, perhaps. He is a name—or he had one—but as he drifts between the gray eternities of become and un-become, he realizes that a name would be foolish. A ghost he is, and ghosts, as long as they exist, have no use for names.

Once, there was a vagrant.

No, not a vagrant. She knows she is as much god as the rest of them, but they still kick her to the dark gutters outside heaven. Their teeth chew up and spit out the curse that curls up in her shadow. "Binbōgami," they hiss, "you must never touch us." So the vagrant, flicked off like a beetle from a forehead, lands among the ghosts she can never touch.

Once, there was a weapon.

He becomes weapon the moment he hears the divine syllables "Kokki," and precious, frightening warmth presses its lips to his cold unbeing. He knows he is a weapon, because when he re-forms as Daikoku, there is a vast, crudely-carved chunk of the world missing. He looks at the cracks in the huge crater—still seeping corrupt gases—and he smiles.

Once, there was a master.

She becomes master the moment his memories take shape inside the chaos of her own mind. The memories of his truncated life play out before her eyes in the time it takes to snap open a fan. It hurts. It hurts her more than anything, and as familiar as she is with her own curse, she realizes that the curse of happiness cut short might be worse.

Once, there was a servant.

Hell would serve itself a banquet if he becomes her hafuri, so he learns to limit his service as Kokki. But as Daikoku, he serves her eternally and absolutely; his wild, lovely goddess will never feel abandonment as long as he bears her gift. It is this promise that delivers him through the agony of losing Daigo. It is this promise that pushes him to his knees before the Yatogami—so he can keep serving her without hating every inch of himself.

He serves her because she has only him.

Once, there was a lover.

Even though it's not because of her that he died, even though she makes him swear to raise her if she reincarnates, she worries that she can't be enough. She is the imposter, the luckless—so how much can she love, really? He tucks her close, tickling her forehead with his scruff, his breath, and calls her silly—his silly, bewitching, perfect lady. In short low words, he tells her that in his eyes, she is the everything and the all.

She loves him because he has only her.