Demonically Good
They had crowded around her: green imps, red imps, yellow, blue and black. Even some of colours she'd never seen before had clustered around their Master's latest victim to tease and quip. Baikokudo had been forced to shove them aside as he lead her through the calcified cavern.
At the very mention of Orochi's name, the two gatekeepers had hurriedly pushed aside the imposing stone doors, opening the way forward.
And there it had been. The Moon Cave, a fortress of demons, imps and others alike, rivalled only by Oni Island and the interior of Wawku Shrine. It was centred around a lift mechanism, powered by a bored looking green imp at a lever, and doors and corridors split from the centre in a multitude of directions.
In a word, the imp had lowered the duo and their chorus into the basement, a smaller, but still spacious room that funnelled into a single corridor. She had been lead through twists and turns, clambering up narrow stairwells and through cramped tunnels until she had reached it.
A Shrine to the fire God Moegami lay in the very belly of the beast.
Baikokudo glared at her pointedly. "It's traditionally where the sacrifices pray, for forgiveness. The ceremonial robes are by the Shrine. As you can see, they haven't been used in a while, but they should suit you just fine. Enjoy."
And with a sharp quip and sarcastic glare, he had shut her only escape route.
Lika turned to stare at the statue. It was at least twice the size of her, wings gesturing, outstretched upwards towards the heavens. Sorrow overwhelmed her. This was it. There would be no Amaterasu or Shiranui to save her, not even Oki or Kai would know. To them, she would still be in Kamui, screaming about the prophecy, about how it was unfair.
It seemed ironic how staring in the face of death made her put things in perspective. Now she no longer had a choice about fulfilling the prophecy.
She slipped into the sacrificial robes. It was simply a pure white kimono, freshly cleaned and pressed despite the years with a yellow strip that ran across her shoulder to her waist, and a blue skirt. The clothing clung to her, as if as desperate as she was to escape their fate.
Tears threatened at the corners of her eyes, stinging them. And for the first time in years, since she had seen the Ark of Yamato rise out of Lake Laochi and enter the heavens, she fell to her knees before the Shrine and prayed.
She prayed to Moegami, to Amaterasu, to Itegami, to Gods she had only ever read about: Gekigami, Kabegami, Tachigami.
But her prayers, no matter how fervent, no matter how desperate, no matter how pleading, were not answered. She gave a sigh, half of resignation, half of desperation, and lit a small candle beside the Shrine with a stick of burning incense.
There was a crash. She stood up with a start. A loud, angry curse came from a room next door, one separated from hers by a wall of ice.
A hiss, as a brand of fire struck the wall, melting it, and yet another imp strode in. This one was short, clad from head to toe in olive greens and earthy browns, with a simple apron around his waist. The kana 'ri' decorated his demon slip.
The imp approached, and peered at her. It administered a vicious poke to her ribs.
Lika hissed, shooting backwards. There came what sounded like a snort from behind the slip, and then a hoot, and then a high-pitched sound of affront.
"No need to act like that."
She started back, and gave her wounded sides a rub. The imp ignored her shock, and began to circle her loosely, occasionally pausing to poke her in the ribs with his long wooden ladle. The end dripped with some unmentionable liquid that he managed to smear across her furs. The smell of troll fat and ogre liver reached her nostrils, and she gagged.
The imp paused in front of her, and cocked his head to one side.
"Well you're a skinny one aren't you?"
"Pardon?" She recovered from her temporary speechlessness.
The imp shrugged dismissively. "The Master prefers his sacrifices plump, a little bit of meat never does him any harm. But you," he punctuated his remark with another short sharp jab to the ribs. "Are all skin and bone. The Master will use you to pick his teeth. And what am I supposed to cook to go with you, hmm? The Master needs something to fill him up for the next 100 years."
Did she detect a hint of sarcasm at the ends of his words?
Lika held his eye line, and the imp returned her stare in kind. She was the one who looked away first. Satisfied, he gave a quick nod.
"What does it matter to you anyway? Come, come, have something to eat." He gave her a once over and nodded again. "You're making me hungry just looking at you."
He disappeared back past the ice wall at a trot, and Lika hurried after him into the main cavern, careful not to bump into or meet the eyes of the dozens of curious imps spread around the cave, staring at her retreating back with warily curious eyes.
They had every right to be wary. She wondered how many of their kind she had faced in Kamui, as well as Namahages and ogres. But she was certain it had never been this many, and certainly not all at once.
She stood no chance of escaping, of that Orochi had made explicitly clear.
Orochi.
The name stared a bizarre mixture of feelings in her, of both revulsion, and pity. He had ordered that no harm come to her, yet he was soon to devour her himself. She suspected the imps knew little to nothing of his mercy, not yet.
"Over here!" The imp chef waved from across what she assumed to be the kitchen quarters, brandishing his ladle like a sword. He quickly ushered her towards him, much to the bemusement of the on looking imps. Lika bowed her head, hoping and praying that they would ignore her and find someone easier to pick on.
For once, her prayers held weight, and as she moved towards the fat bronze caldera in the corner of the room, their eyes turned to pry elsewhere.
It was pleasantly warm in the kitchen, and the air surprisingly clean, in spite of the ominous column of orange-yellow smoke that rose from the boiling pot. The wood squealed, protesting under her feet, and another imp glanced up from two kilns, shocked.
"Ajimi! What, who is this? Why are you bringing her in here? The Master wouldn't like it if he realised..."
"My love for Orochi is rivalled only by my love of serving him hearty food." He made a sweeping gesture at Lika. "Does this look hearty to you?" Ajimi gave the imp a pointed glare as he hoisted himself up onto the platform above the steaming broth and ladled it into a generous wooden bowl.
With a nimble grace, he dropped from his perch and thrust it at her. "Just for you. My speciality, ogre liver and fried black demon horn."
She could've imagined that he grinned, he could've imagined that her face fell. Instead, their masks remained blank, impassive, so she settled for mumbling a brief thanks before sitting at a low slung table.
The chef returned to his position above the pot and continued to stir at his concoction, humming away quite happily, ever so occasionally turning half an eye on his latest customer.
She decided that it wasn't nearly as bad as it sounded. It was even quite nice if you ignored the chunks of troll fat and the odd eyeball that bobbed around lazily in the stew. It was certainly better than winter rations in Kamui, either way. Finishing the stew, she decided that it was probably better than Oki's cooking too.
She politely pushed it away. Ajimi swung down to her side. "It's good, isn't it?"
Lika nodded in what she hoped was an enthusiastic way. The imp seemed almost disappointed by her reaction, or rather, her lack of.
"You don't speak much, do you?" She nodded glumly, it wasn't that she didn't want to, or that she couldn't, but that she wasn't particularly in the mood to talk. "What's your name then, sweetheart?"
She muttered it softly, as though it was a disease, or a demon. "My name's Lika."
The bell began to toll in the background, each ring louder, more deafening, more condemning than a death sentence.
She felt her palms begin to sweat, her muscles grew taught, the nerves in the pit of her belly began to clench.
Now it was her turn.
The bell rang out, eight times. One ring for each head. Baikokudo stuck his head into the kitchen with a malicious smile. "Somehow I knew you'd find your way in here. Now, the Master wishes to see you." He gave a mock bow.
She turned back to the head chef. He shook his head, a strangely human gesture of pity. "Thank you, Ajimi."
And she left, swept out of the kitchen by Baikokudo and into the lift. Only this time, they were travelling upwards, to where the beast awaited her.