Part 3: Chapter 12

Sadly, I do not own the anime: Noragami.

Time: Midday, several days later.

Stretched out in her bed, Hiyori had her left arm raised in the air. Frowning, she studied the back of the her hand, knowing that her flesh was cursed, that she'd killed her sisters. She'd tried to talk herself out of the idea, yet she'd known it was true as soon as her brother had mentioned she was a set of identical triplets.

I was normal until I got hit by that truck, she tried to remind herself for the hundredth time. And until I accidentally swallowed some phantom goo, I was just a normal girl with an inclination for slipping out of my body; I didn't feed on life, or spirits, or wishes, or anything of the sort. Nor will people die if I stand beside them, or sit besides them, or even if I were to sleep with them.

But I did feed, came the despairing retort of her inner mind as it tiredly and savagely continued the inner dialogue that'd lasted for over a week. That's how I became friends with Akira and Aimi; they 'felt good' to be beside. My tail was always there, waiting for a boost of spirit energy to jump-start it. Inside a womb, so close together for months, and with their spirits barely formed, I could have 'ate' those spirits. No, . . . not could, I did. Just like I can break a borderline by eating a single strand of it, I ate something vital to their spirits. And they died. Not only will I never have kids of my own, I killed my mother's children, . . . . I killed my poor sisters.

But, . . . . Her mind started a weary rebuttal of the rebuttal.

"Hiyori, put your arm down. You need some sleep." Her father was at her side, gently trying to push the arm she had raised down. She didn't hear and continued to study the back of the hand she had kept raised for every waking moment for several days. Her muscles screamed at such abuse, and she ignored that as well. In her staring she didn't blink, and her eyes were in agony over that abuse as well. It was something she also ignored. Pain couldn't reach through her despair.

"Honey, how can you blame yourself for something that happened before you were born? Such things happen. We can't change that." Her father again tried to reason with her, but he didn't know what she was. She'd heard them talking, wondering why she'd fallen into such a state. They'd raised her without the knowledge of her dead sisters so as to not have her live in their shadows. They hadn't wanted her to ask any, 'what ifs' when it came to them. They'd wanted her to live her life without visiting graves or feeling survivor's guilt. Her father and brother had expected some reaction when she'd learned, but this they didn't understand. And she knew their guilt at having told her was tearing at them. Still she couldn't bring herself to sit up, to smile, or do anything other than lie in her bed, staring at the hand she kept raised.

I wonder, she mused, whether that's the reason Eiko and I are so different; within the womb we both became very intimate with death. With her it was a car accident that killed her parents. She should've died there, but I guess Ianuaria intervened. Her parents did die instantly, but she remained within her mother's womb for several hours until the medical examiner found that by some miracle the baby was still alive. The gods aren't all knowing, nor all powerful. If I had to guess, Ianuaria had no clue what fate would befall her priestess until that priestess died. And either she can't, or refuses, to raise the dead. But Eiko, didn't die in the accident. Or if she did, Ianuaria revived her. And she then kept the baby alive for hours in a cooling body where the blood wasn't flowing. No blood, no air. She should've died within ten minutes of her mother dying.

Hiyori took a deep breath and sighed, and for a few moments watched the three phantoms that circled in the air above her. Brightly colored in a fashion that didn't quite match normal phantoms, she knew they were from Izanami. She hadn't bothered to read the messages they carried. Her gaze returned to her accursed flesh, and her thought again tore at her as she thought about to the sisters she would never see.

I killed them, . . . .

The tirade she was about to unleash upon herself came to a halt when a phantom, dark as the vampire she'd once fought, pushed against the glass of her bedroom window. Then, flowing like smoke, it seeped in through the cracks that only it could find. Seconds later it came to a rest beside her bed. It was as dark as the vampire, but there all similarity ended. It was more like a very large, mouse-shaped shadow than anything else. Its nose twitched as it sniffed her.

Izanami has used the carrot a lot, but now it seems she's going to use a stick, Hiyori thought, wanting to sigh again, and just be left alone with her soul-destroying thoughts.

It surprised her when the mouse didn't attack or try to drag her off. Rather it sat there as if unsure of what to do. Then it raised a paw and Hiyori could see it carried a message. Unlike the three phantoms circling above her bed, this one poked at her with that paw; then it waited; then it said, "smells delicious,"; then it said, "message,"; then it poked her again. It repeated those three actions several times before Hiyori realized that while Izanami wasn't going to drag her back to the underworld, she was going to make sure her message wasn't ignored.

Hiyori continued to study the intruder, noting the way it moved. This was something she couldn't kill. She didn't exactly know how she knew it, but she did know that this phantom would endlessly regenerate. Chop off a leg, or the head, and like a vampire it would grow back. Not that she knew how to chop of either appendage with a creature that seemed to be made of dark smoke.

Frig! The girl thought, getting angry at a world that wouldn't leave her alone to mope.

"Frig!" she then said aloud, and her father jumped as his daughter spoke her first word in over a week.

"Sorry," she then said to her father, "but it seems I've put this off too long." In spirit form she sat up and took the message.

'Thief, I have a task for you. It is something that must be done within the next few minutes or it will be too late. For this I will reward you. I will tell you how a succubus is formed. I will also pay in the form of wealth you can use in the human world. Hurry.'

Hiyori read the message, then glared at the mouse that was still poking her.

Don't I already know how a succubus is formed, she mused angrily, frowning. But it seems Izanami didn't tell me everything, not yet. And a task that must be rushed? She's never done that before, nor has she ever offered to pay me with anything resembling money.

But I can't neglect my obligations, she told herself, wanting to scream her rage at the goddess who she knew had had nothing to do with her birth, or her sisters' deaths. Within a few minutes she was at a shrine, her hand on the altar. Then she stood before the goddess who, of all things, seemed to be pacing.

"Save the one who resides within the flames," the goddess commanded. "Give him this message. Heal him." A piece of paper, that she knew wasn't paper, was pressed into her hand by the skeletal fingers of the goddess. It was followed by three, small red berries much like those Hiyori recalled Ianuaria producing with her regalia.

Hiyori blinked, then took a leap backwards as the underworld disappeared, replaced by towering flames that erupted around her, rising far above her head to block out the sky. But for all the light given by those flames it was dark with black smoke.

It hurt, but these flames were nothing like the ones used by Lago. In seconds she came to a stop just outside a wall of fire, shocked by the hellish scene the forest fire formed. Someone's in there, Hiyori realized, wondering what sort of person the goddess would want to save. But how do I find them in . . . that! She took another step backwards, away from the raging inferno while around her the winds actually howled as the flames sucked in oxygen.

She took a glance at the paper she held. It read:

'Build the world, and he shall be brought low.'

Huh? World? How does one build a world, especially a human. But the whole 'he shall be brought low,' part makes sense. If the man builds the world, whatever that means, then someone will be . . . killed? Why? And do I want to do this if it means someone will be killed? Hiyori studied the flames for a few seconds. Yes, she decided, glad the choice was so simple and easy to make. I can always try to talk her out of killing that person later. Right now it's the man she sent me to save who's in danger of dying. If he isn't already dead. And I want to know how a succubus is formed.

She slipped the message into a pocket, grateful that the fire didn't seem to be burning her clothes. Now, she asked herself, looking back up, how do I find him in this?

A leap in the air told her the flames covered over a square kilometer. With the fire and smoke hindering her vision, the odds of finding him that way were slim. He's human, so my tail should be able to see him. But humans are so dim compared to the gods that it's like trying to see the stars during the noonday sun. The stars are there, but no matter how hard you look you won't see them. So what do I do?

Thinking, she created a borderline, making it as big as she could, and placing it so that it was flat on the ground, smothering most of the flames in a small area. She stepped on it and looked around; not seeing the man amongst the still burning trees, she ran to the edge of the borderline, then let it fade. She created another, repeating the process.

She moved through the howling wind that was created as the flames sucked down air in the gaps the borderlines made. Well fed, those flames grew hotter, larger, and much more fierce, causing the trees to start exploding. Frig! I'm making it worse. And this will take forever. But what else can I do. I need the borderlines to temporarily block the fire so I can see. It's either this or nothing. Gritting her teeth, she raced through the flames, creating one borderline after another, trying to make the process so quick that the flames wouldn't become more of an inferno than they already were.

Where are the firefighters? Why aren't there helicopters dropping water? Why, . . . . Search, she commanded herself, trying to get past the despair caused by the futility of her search. I'm not going to find anything in this; he would already be nothing more than charred remains. Frig! But maybe the Izanami is protecting him.

Occasionally she took leaps that carried her well above the flames, and a little ways above the smoke. It didn't let her see much, but near the center of the forest fire she saw the flames were a little higher, and the upper layer of smoke was swirling around like water going down a drain. Landing, she turned towards the fire twister, racing towards it, hoping. As she drew closer the roar of the fire was replaced with a loud hissing. Seconds later she found the center of the area was free of fire, though the heat was still enough that she doubted the man could've survived.

This is close to where the goddess sent me, Hiyori realized. If I'd taken the time to look around then, . . . . Frig! And this is one of her shrines, she then noted, then rebuked herself. Of course it is. It's from and to her shrines that she can send me between the living world and the abyss.

But it seemed teleportation between her shrines wasn't the only thing the goddess could do in the living world. Within the thirty-foot clearing, where the altar should've been there was a fountain of water that soaked the ground, then hissed as the flames turned it to skin-searing steam. Within that fountain, kept alive by the continuous stream of cool water, was the man.

Seconds later, kneeling beside him, Hiyori saw he was unconscious and had a few minor burns, but otherwise seemed unharmed. Though that's not saying that he actually is unharmed. There could be damage to his lungs, or brain damage from lack of oxygen. But, there's nothing I can do about that.

Wanting to rush from the flames, she still took the time to open the man's mouth and crushed the berries Izanami had given her, letting the red fluid flow down his throat. When he'd swallowed the juice from the berries, she picked him up and tossed him over her shoulder. Borderlines then let her make a path through the flames that otherwise would've killed the man she'd been told to save. Outside the wall of fire, forcing herself to be calm, she took a moment to get her bearing, wondering where the nearest hospital was.

Our hospital is too far, she decided, finally determining just where she was. This is actually quite a distance from the city, so where do I carry him? Frig! And it's not like I can run or jump with him. If I were to do that his body wouldn't be able to take it. Bones would break from the jumping, and organs would rupture.

Standing, wondering what to do, she studied the flames, then the ground where she stood. It's soaked in blood, she noted. A lot of it. If it's from humans, then hundreds must've died. Or someone stole it from a blood bank. Gods, if it's from humans I really hope it's the later. He's not a serial killer, is he? Or a nutcase who kills people and drains them of blood for religious rituals? Frig! Just who did I save? He can't be serial killer; a serial killer would be all over the news.

Anyway, I can think about that later. Right now I need a hospital, and I need to find the closest one. She froze, thinking. No, not the closest one. I doubt Izanami wants him linked to this, whatever this is. She eyed the flames again.

Placing the man on the ground, Hiyori checked his pulse and breathing. Both seemed okay. Tossing him back on her shoulder she sighed and started walking. Despite her dark mood, once she was some distance from the fire she found she was enjoying herself. It was the first time she'd been outside in over a week, and despite her worry both her body and mind seemed to take great comfort in the fresh air and the pleasant, colorful scenery of nature.

It was three hours before she came to a small group of buildings that were little more than a village. There she waited at the bus stop until a nearly empty bus arrived. Feeling guilty at not paying, she boarded the bus and gently placed the man in the seat at the very back of the bus. Then she created a borderline that separated the back seat from the rest of the bus. Even when the bus became packed with people, no one tried to sit down in the seat she and the man occupied. They didn't even blink, or wrinkle their noses, at the girl who looked, and smelled, like she hadn't bathed in a week, and who was traveling with an unconscious man who reeked of smoke and gasoline.

Hours passed while she watched the scenery roll by, becoming increasingly worried about the man who remained unconscious. Her concerns though about him being a serial killer faded. Now that she had time to think, she realized there was no way he could be a serial killer; his spirit wasn't corrupted.

Studying him, Hiyori took in the black hair that was just a bit too long. It wasn't styled, but seemed to suit him. His eyes were a green that made her think of peaceful meadows and pleasant days. If she had to guess, he was in his late twenties, and that he hadn't shaved in several days. After the fire, and being soaked, his clothes were a muddy mess that smelled of gasoline and smoke. His face bore tiny wrinkles and creases that suggested he was a man who smiled a lot. His lips, . . . .

Hiyori looked away, realizing just how attractive she found the man to be. In her mind she pictured him the way he would look if clean shaven and dressed in clean clothes. Then she shook her head, clearing the image from her mind.

Deciding to check his pockets, she found out his name and that he was a software designer. She also learned that he was from the same city as her, or at least was now living there. Relieved she wasn't taking him hundred of kilometers out of his way, she returned the id and wallet to his pockets, then leaned away so she could study him again. Blushing, she again shook her head and looked away, returning her gaze to the scenery outside the bus.

Why have me save him? Hiyori wondered. Izanami was quite capable of doing that herself. The water to keep him safe. Or, since he was at her shrine, she could've teleported him to the underworld, then to any of her other shrines. A few moments in that place wouldn't have hurt him. Was this a trick to get me out of bed and moving again before my moping corrupted my spirit? Maybe, but there's more to it. She's actually intrigued by his ability to build worlds. And she wanted to save me. So she killed two birds with one stone?

During the ride the radio told her that a crazy person had committed suicide at an old shrine. They didn't mention which god the shrine belonged to, but they did explain how the crazy person had hijacked a truck of pig's blood that was being shipped from a factory farm to a processing facility where it would've been made into blood meal, a type of fertilizer. He'd then mixed it with some type of homemade napalm, and used a hose to spread it over several acres around the shrine. Then it'd been lit on fire with himself on the shrine.

While the radio admitted that some of it was conjecture, like the man lying on the altar when he lit the fire, Hiyori thought that was likely. But if he tried to commit suicide, why isn't his spirit corrupted? Because he wasn't seeking death? Maybe?

She looked at the man and recalled her own history of blood sacrifices. No, he wasn't seeking death. Nor did he want to die. He was just willing to offer his life in exchange for help from the goddess. I'm guessing he wanted vengeance. No, that would corrupt his spirit. He wanted justice. Or at least what he sees as justice. But I'm making more conjectures here than the radio did.

It was late at night when the bus finally came to a half in a bus station just within the edge of her city. Getting off, Hiyori watched the numerous, small phantoms that swarmed in the dark, taking note that while several of them appeared interested in her, none of them came sniffing around the man. Definitely not corrupted, she decided, almost rejoicing that she wasn't saving a serial killer.

Then the man finally began to stir and she nearly let go of him from both relief and embarrassment. Looking around, she hurried to place him on one of the benches beside the bus stop, then stood back to watch.

Again she noted that the phantoms seemed totally disinterested in the man.

Five minutes later she started to wonder if maybe she'd been mistaken about the man waking up. Then he raised a hand to run it through his hair. He sat up and looked around, appearing dazed.

Despite the wrinkles that suggested he smiled a lot, his expression was a frown that seemed totally natural on his face, causing Hiyori to wonder if maybe she'd been wrong about the smiling part. The man ran his fingers through his hair again and looked down at his clothes. His nosed wrinkled slightly as he sniffed, and his puzzlement seemed to grow. Holding out his hands he studied them, then examined his body. He's probably wondering why he isn't burned, Hiyori mused. He certainly smells like he's been in a fire. Those berries of Izanami really works wonders.

Hiyori blinked and her hand flew to her pocket. Frig! I forgot the message! How do I give it to him; he wouldn't be able to see whatever the gods use to write their messages on, so I can't just hand it to him.

Thinking, and watching the man who appeared to have no desire to move from the bench, she walked over to peer at him from a closer viewpoint. He looked okay, but . . . . He looks like how I felt this morning, how I've felt for the whole week.

Again cringing at the vandalism, she gently used her left hand to turn the man's head so that he was looking at the metal seating of the bench. Then, with her right hand, she pressed the fingernail of her middle finger into the aluminum. She etched the words:

'Build the world, and he shall be brought low.'

He didn't see her, but he did see the words as they formed. Hiyori wasn't sure how to describe the myriad feelings the man's expression showed, but disbelief was certainly among them. It seemed that while he'd been willing to dying to ask for the aid of the gods, he hadn't expected a reply. If what she saw in his expression was right, then he probably hadn't even believed in the gods.

Task done, she sought the nearest of Izanami's shrines.

"How does a man build a world? And is that why he's so important to you?" She started asking question as soon as the underworld took shape around her.

Izanami waved a hand, and Hiyori looked to where she'd pointed. As so often before, she was within the same giant cavern that she'd come to recognize as her home away from home. While she could now tolerate the miasma of the underworld, it still irritated her, so her talks with Izanami often occurred within the cavern where blessed water made the air more tolerable. But now it'd changed. Within the mist she saw a stone had been carved in the shape of a chair.

She's trying to make me feel welcomed, Hiyori realized. She's trying to comfort me in my grief. Sitting down, thankful to the goddess, she waited.

"I have no interest in him," the goddess informed her. "But should you both remain alive, in a few years he will be of interest to you."

Hiyori blinked and recalled the way she'd been attracted to the man. "Are you saying we'll get married, she asked, not sure how she felt about the arranged marriage.

Now it was Izanami's turn to blink. "I'm not sure what gave you that impression. If I had to guess, mind you I'm no expert in match making, you two would not be well suited for each other. He likes to talk, while you on the other hand are comfortable with silence.

"Oh. Then why?" Relieved, she sat back down.

"In time. That path is yet only a possibility."

So cryptic, Hiyori thought and sighed, smiling a little as she did. Then she blinked as the goddess disappeared, only to reappear within a few feet of her.

"Thief, do you know how close you came to corrupting your spirit this past week?" A rotting hand covered in maggots reached out the caress the girl's cheek in another attempt at comfort.

Hiyori looked up, recalling that this was the first time the goddess had stood within the mist of blessed water. Does such water hurt her, Hiyori wondered. Or maybe she just didn't want to get wet?

"I killed my sisters," she stated bluntly. "How could I not grieve? Why didn't you tell me?"

The goddess was quiet for a few moments. "Thief, I do not know all that you know. I didn't know that you didn't know. As for the killing part, why do you think that?"

Hiyori opened her mouth to reply, but the goddess continued to speak.

"Thief, within the womb do you think only one of the children was a succubus? All three were. Or at least all three had the potential. But as you know, the world can be a brutal place. Every succubus is born from triplets, and few survive the test."

"Test?"

"How do you think the mother of such triplets would fare?"

Hiyori frowned. It was something she'd never considered before. "Not well," she finally decided. "Even a few days inside the womb wouldn't hurt the mother, but months? It would kill her. Especially if there were three of us stealing her life force."

"Your kind are not only rare because you cannot reproduce, but because even before you are born, the capacity for both love and self-sacrifice must already be instilled within you. Most of your kind die within the womb, killing the mother as well. Either they fight and all three die, killing the mother. Or they do nothing and the mother dies, killing them."

"Oh." Hiyori gulped, again recalling that sometimes it was best not to know something. If she hadn't learned she was one of triplets, she wouldn't be here grieving. Frowning, and hesitant, she asked,"So how does a succubus survive?"

"All three must die of their own free will."

"But, . . . " She shook her head, confused.

"No, you are not one of three who were conceived. Or, in a way, you are all three."

"How?"

"Knowing the mother can only carry a single fetus to term, all three choose to die. Their spirits merge, and they choose one of the fetuses to live in. Only in such a way can a succubus be carried to term. And only in such a way can the mother survive."

"So all three of my mother's children died?"

"In a way," the goddess agreed. "Yet, in a way, all lived."

Hiyori sighed, and rubbed at her forehead, feeling tired. "I'm not sure if knowing my mother lost three children instead of two makes me feel better," she said. "Who came up with such an accursed test? I would curse them, but I doubt it would be wise to curse the person who created me, or at least designed me."

A skeletal grin appeared on the goddess' face. "It's the way of nature. Who, if anyone, designed it I don't know. It's merely called a test because before the world broke that's what it was named."

"The world broke?"

"Now that he's safe, give this to the man you saved." Izanami handed Hiyori a large envelope. Inside she felt what she thought might be papers that would form a pile half-a-centimeter thick."

"What is it?"

"Things I require of the world he's to build."

"It's always more questions," Hiyori muttered, suppressing a grin. "Will you really kill the person he asked you to?"

"When the time comes, I will leave that up to you," Izanami stated.

"Me? Kill?"

"You will decide how to punish the man who raped and murdered his daughter, and then his wife."

Frig! Hiyori closed her eyes.

"But that won't be for a few years. Since you find the justice I would deal to be so abhorrent, I will leave what to do up to you. After all, it will be you who will benefit from the world he will build. At least I hope that's the case.'

Hiyori kept her eyes closed, recalling that she'd passed the duty of killing five gods and regalia off to Bishamon. She hadn't been able to act.

"Whether that's to kill, or to ensure he's found guilty by a human court, or . . . . I will let you decide."

Hiyori opened her eyes. "So I don't have to kill him? I can do like was done for Yua: make sure the police discover his crimes, and that he's sentenced?"

"Child, you will decide."

"Oh! Good."

"Deliver the envelope while within your body. Nor should you open it. Child, please trust me on this. Eventually you will know everything, but not yet."

Hiyori nodded. "I'm starting to learn my lesson," she admitted. She closed her eyes. "While I don't like not knowing, I will trust you. Just so long as eventually you do tell me."

The goddess leaned close, her eyes just inches from Hiyori's. "I tend to forget human frailty. Humans are born, I blink, they die. I hope you are the exception. For the next seven days, rest. Then training will continue."

She stood back. "Dig at the base of altar. A phantom will mark the spot. Three inches down."

"Huh?" Hiyori looked around, seeing only the darkness of the night and the stars that twinkled above. It seemed her latest conversation with Izanami was over. And for once it seemed the goddess had been in a rush.

Dig? She walked around the altar of the shrine Izanami had sent her to. Finding a colorful phantom, she brushed it to one side and dug into the damp, dark black, soil with her fingers. A few minutes later she studied the four coins she'd found. In good, though hardly perfect condition, all four had a sun inscribed in the center, with several symbols and writing outside of that.

Oh! So this is what she meant by wealth. Not much, just four yen, . . . . Wait, the Meiji period? Hmm, . . . .

Taking great care not to drop them, she placed the coins in her pocket. Then, for the second time that day, she stood and looked around, wondering where she was. Several leaps, and a few seconds of running across some telephone wires brought her to a wide street. A look at the signs there made her sigh. Then she took the first leap of her long trip home.

I didn't kill my sisters, she thought, free of the guilt that'd been eating at her soul.