Oviparous
2/16/17
Though steam billowed as a constant reminder, the played spouts of water did little but unnerve him. He loathed, loathed, loathed baths, but as did she. She was having fun at least, fondly wiping her ink about and rinsing the bathing visitors. Godlike proficiency and heartfelt reunions aside, there was a watery ophidian coiled devotedly around clasps of light. His mortal eyes spotted the subdued rays surrounding his perch so briefly he had only to question his own accuracy. An oath was shed between wolf and sprite in silver fur when the musk of night humidity fell. In return Issun paid no fear to the jets of water painted by her sacrosanctity, her murky mop which he privately venerated so. Even in later seconds he still lurked without distrust, wearily preening casts of her loose hair. Her top wasn't as oily as the Celestial Brush, in fact it was dry. It was all the better, but nobody really asked Issun. Certainly not her; she knew well enough her flaws, was self aware enough to admit sulkily that the only part of her that ever should be wet was her tail. Good, she too despised a wash.
I would sooner bathe him with my own velvet, she cooed merrily, licking her nose. She was given no reply, but he stopped his slight dandling and that was a remark on its own.
It was fine that her noise didn't capture her altiloquent ward's eye. She could live without another of his incidental comments. He would provide plenty when he felt like it. Following his gaze as she guessed it, she sat on stone during the late littered skies, tail curling as she listened to nightly sounds. The bump of bamboo shoots and the chorus of frogs made the boy sat on her crown for once still, not uttering a phrase; just trapped in stars and a spotted yellow daze. He would have remained that way for awhile, she knew, had the silence not been broken shortly thereafter. This diverting the pair's attention from imprisoned constellations and quixotic reflections, as it was not Issun who ruptured it.
She with an age laced beak spoke to the Goddess, not much concerning him at first. He was quite attached to his somnolent, contemplative state. Amaterasu could feel the weight of his tiny feet shift, pointedly focused on an obscured, intangible fawn canvas. The tip of his brush to the misty water source before him no more, that she could sense. Practice could come later! There were very pressing issues to address, noted by his russet eyes. Wandering was he, a self-proclaimed artist sensitized to detail?
He hadn't missed the troublesome, niggling peculiarity belonging to members of the Sparrow clan. It wasn't that they were walking, talking, hospitable, and sentient servers that ate at him so. No, what bothered him, especially beside the vapors of the hot spring, wasn't even the hazardous flames that earlier licked the sparrow employee or the competence of said employee. All of his attention was void of obstruction, aside from that crone's prattling itself. Not even the big furball could continue taking her new fat friend to heart. Hey, she couldn't punish him for the thought alone! Especially if it was true!
Ammy sure was lucky Sasa Sanctuary was a mixed bath. Why else would a wolf be allowed in for a plunge, pray he that she never does? Quietly exhaling his sore breath intake, Issun resisted an irritable sigh. Why was this chubby…big boned bird wearing a towel? In fact, why did any of these birds wear anything at all? It was a darned good question, his intentions aside. If he were a bird he would be like the little ones, breezy and free. Could they even fly, besides that annoying little brat, Chun? He doubted this one could. Even their leader looks sported, for lack of sport, an obese physique. Ammy's diet could even be put to shame! Though he was no mood to bring it up. She'd done her part too well, it would be a shame to dampen her spirits. Or suffer the damp repercussions himself. She had her own methods, most he could respect. It was hard not to like his arrangement with her, if not the majesty herself.
Back on track and most importantly – what could those sparrows possibly be hiding under all of that clothing? Certainly there couldn't be anything other than more feathers, right? Right? Peering closer, into the fluffy, mountainous fracture having eroded from white, Issun scowled broodily. Could it be…how was it she could babble so with those two weights wearing her down? Could she – oh no, it was impossible!
"Aah! The water's fantastic!" The hen lilted. At least, he reckoned they were a hen. This unctuous creature sang like a drake! For the record, his inner name calling graduated to more vulgar terms than sheer cock. Ducks sounded far less melodious than roosters, that was just a harsh truth. Slumping against Amaterasu's ear and piquing her canny inquisition, Issun fervently struggled to remember the word that scurried to the back of his mind, a locution that was still relevant to drakes and cocks, but other flying non-mammals. The lupine was onto him, he knew. Somehow, she knew he was thinking something coarse.
Just how tightly had this…this hen shrouded herself? Birds didn't have them, they were…oh, what was that darned term already? Tugging on the knot in his cape, the Poncle fretted. Not even hens had boobs! He wasn't an idiot, and certainly it wasn't socially acceptable to irritate the jolly…hen. However, the silence was as thick as her chest, and that big furball wasn't reading his cues to walk away!
She wasn't even looking anymore! Ooh, sometimes that hardheaded beast just drove him insane! How, by all the Gods, had a sparrow of all egg-laying creatures, a set of mammaries that almost rivaled Sakuya's own? What use did a bird have for breasts? Was she mammalian or not? If he could only summon the words to ask! Spit them out!
A shame really, since with time he was awarded with a question of his own. "Please, would you mind not staring QUITE so much!?" She apprised, her soapy feathers ruffling crossly. Perfect, now she probably thought he was a pervert. It didn't stray far from the truth, but come on!
"Doh!" Issun spilled apologetically, averting his scrutiny. To Amaterasu's sudden engrossment, the Poncle flushed, his veil glowing utterly cerise.
Just what has gotten into him? Well occupied by gnawing hunger, Amaterasu steered away from the bathhouse and bamboo thicket, trotting indoors. Mercy might be a divine character trait, but in all honesty she did not act in order to spare him…
Author's Notes: Oh boy, If you've missed talking multiple times to every NPC this must be unrecognizable. I highly suggest that if you have Okami, thoroughly explore Sasa Sanctuary. No regrets had! A lot of Issun's thoughts are my own reaction after seriously overthinking and analyzing the environment, but can you blame me? I love this game and think about it a lot! Despite the upload date, this piece is actually almost three years old. This final draft might be a real mess as a result, but please do let me know what you think!