"Look here, yeah you," Issun chirped towards the passing by people, standing on a small wooden stool set out for him by a kind woman. He glowed the usual vibrant green as always, and he had not changed physically. His hands carried excessive amounts of paper he had painted onto skillfully that were far larger than his body, but light enough to carry, "Come and read this, about the great sun god Amaterasu!"
Sei-an's commoners, though obviously busy on this bright and pleasant day, made time for the small artist. That was of course because he had chronicled the adventure that he and Amaterasu had had in vanquishing Blithe on this paper, sparing only details about how they had entered the Emperor's body, instead keeping where battle was waged vague. Issun found his calloused hands releasing papers at a tremendous rate. Mothers read the story to their children with the hope they would learn a life's lesson, old woman and men that survived the terrible mist read the scroll and reminisced upon the horrid green mist that they braved through, and men read the story with a glimmer in their eyes at how such an adventure happened right under their noses.
Though Issun cried out with great vigor as if this was his life's calling, his heart ached. Ached for Amaterasu, the big furball, the female wolf, the goddess. He missed the long days and nights spent traveling with her, snuggled in the glittering white fur. It was indescribably great experience and feeling being with her; not even secretly snuggling between Sakuya's sizable peachy breasts compared. There was a foreign feeling he had around the white wolf, one that seemed to pull at his heartstrings harshly.
But she was a god, and he was simply a Poncle. Was this romance, or just deep friendship? Issun was unsure; he had never felt quite like this. It ran deeper that his frugal love-at-first-sight moments with beautiful women, but it did not feel the same as the companionship he had with Kai. 'Am I into bestiality or something?'
"Ano...excuse me, but could I have one?" A small girl, with distinct asian eyes and a short black bob asked for a paper, snapping Issun out of his trance.
"Ah, here!" Issun chirped half-heartedly, snapping back into place at once. He passed the paper out to a few more people, before sighing. His mind drifted once again off to Amaterasu, remembering his dread when they had gotten the twelfth brush technique. It had been then that he had realized that the two would soon part ways.
When they had gotten the thirteenth, Issun secretly was far less excited than he should have been. And separating from her at the Ark of Yamato had been a frugal attempt at cutting the ties with her less painfully. But watching her whimper and look down at him at the large door closed up seemed like he was betraying her. But far later, he had felt the great rise of pride, when amidst the people he had gotten to pray, a proud and strong howl filled with strength echoed throughout what seemed to be the world.
"Why, if it isn't the pint-sized warrior." A familiar voice rang out with a strong French accent. Issun didn't even think, just automatically responded with, "Shut up, you half-baked proh- wait, what? Aren't you supposed to be in the Celestial plains with Ammy?"
Issun turned towards said half-baked prophet, noticing that he lacked that ridiculous winged hat of his. "Heh, I was wondering what was under that ridiculous hat. Heck, I didn't even think it could something as ridiculous as shiny yellow hair longer than most women I've seen. How's Ammy doin', that big furball?"
"I wouldn't know. Ma cherie went missing. Seems she's down here on earth again..."
"What!?" Issun piped, high pitched.
Don't expect this to be updated. EVER. Unless I get a change of heart.
Just wanted to post this and get it out of the way.
Fail writer is a fail writer.