Oh spirits of the air, earth, and sea... grant us your divine power.
He still remembered the day he had first set eyes upon her. Her pelt sparkled with a thin coating of frost, shot through with vibrant crimson swirls. Her eyes glittered, holding sundrops reflected on snow, telling of a thousand sunrises caught in her irises. The divine instrument on her back twirled, scattering snowflakes and tiny licks of flame from its surface. The she-wolf held herself like a queen; she knew her place in the world. Her mere image radiated power - the power of a goddess.
Perhaps it was all just a stupid fantasy. Perhaps it was never meant to be.
The moment Amaterasu's tail disappeared from sight, around a corner and into the belly of Wawku Shrine, Oki collapsed beside Shiranui, falling into a lake of the she-wolf's blood. Her once-beautiful white fur was stained scarlet, streaming from her many wounds. Her breath came in labored, ragged gasps; her eyes had lost their usual luster.
She was clearly dying. Oki squeezed his eyes shut, feeling her blood seeping into his fur as he curled around her. He had Shiranui's blood on his paws, both literally and metaphorically. It was his fault.
Shiranui let out a soft whimper, shifting slightly. One golden eye drifted open. Oki gently licked away the blood that surrounded it, revealing the crimson markings on her fur that came not from gore; they marked her as a goddess. It was a mark she had always carried.
The she-wolf shifted closer to him, closing her eyes and resting her head on her front paws. It was a completely new kind of agony, to be forced to watch, but unable to help. It felt as if somebody had plunged claws deep into his chest, tearing out his heart, letting his blood mix with Shiranui's.
Shiranui sighed again, her breath catching in her chest. Oki buried his muzzle in the whisper-soft fur on the back of the she-wolf's neck. She looked so small, so exposed. He had failed to protect her; now they would both pay the price for his mistake.
A small noise sounded in the darkness surrounding them, and Oki sat up. The thick mane of fur on the back of his neck bristled aggressively, only to fall flat as a tiny figure, no taller than his front paw, emerged from the shadows. He had been told that the she-wolf's companion would find them.
Shiranui lifted her muzzle and made a small, hopeful noise. Oki could sense a bond between them and instinctively knew that she would be okay. At least, she would be okay long enough so that he could see her again before she died.
He sat back for a moment to clean the she-wolf's blood from his fur. He almost didn't want to; part of him wanted to keep Shiranui's blood as a memory.
But he knew it would only cause him more pain. So he licked the blood from his fur, cleaning it thoroughly, leaving no trace.
Oki rose and walked slowly off the clock-like platform, shoulders hunched. He cast one last look back at Shiranui, still sprawled across the glass, bathed in crimson, and his heart ached fiercely. Gods and mortals didn't mix. At least, not usually.
Perhaps it would be up to him to break the rules.