Author's note: Brought to you by popular request, and when I say, "popular request," I really just mean one request. If this looks familiar, it's because it is an extension of Chapter 4 from my one-shot collection, "The Willing Suspension of Disbelief." I also was thinking about releasing the entire part instead of dividing it into chapters, but I like the formatting better this way.
Two parts divided into three chapters each.
Part 1: The Bargain
The kingdoms of Tetsu, Shina, and Yamato may have differed immensely in many aspects, but the one thing about which they were unified and upon which they could agree was the existence of the Gods.
For these gods were not invisible, abstract beings whose wills were indiscernible, whose presences were unperceivable; these gods were very much real.
Throughout the centuries, every human, no matter where they lived or to which king they pledged allegiance, could always directly see the work of the Gods - a sudden blizzard in the south when the God of Snow's shrines were left unattended, plague and famine ravaging the villages who chose to ignore the God of Death, undisturbed sleep to those who remembered to pray to the God of Dreams before bed.
There were never any inconsistencies, no speculation of what may or may not be their will. Humans always knew the work of the gods.
To better interpret their behavior, some divinely blessed priestesses were able to distinguish the personalities of the Gods: the God of Love was enthusiastic, the Muse of Invention could not be as easily bargained with than her sister Muses of Production and of Creation, the God of Fire was evidently a friend of the God of Animals since the God of Fire could take the form of certain animals, the God of Death was seldom lenient.
Some priestesses were even able to identify their preferred names: Yuu, God of Dreams; Nobara, the God of Snow; Noda; the God of Time...
This is the tale of Natsume, the God of Fire, and the bargain he struck with Rei, the God of Death, for the soul of a mortal.
Natsume had a lot of powers, but what he didn't have was the patience to deal with people for a long period of time. Including Gods.
For some unknown, unfathomable, unwarranted reason, some (some, the minority of them, a select few, which did not include Natsume) of them wanted to be organized with their duties and announced divine conferences to be held thrice a year!
First, millenia ago, it was just a one-time event every decade or some, but then some of them (Narumi, thought Natsume spitefully) said they should meet at least once a year as humans and their needs multiplied. Now it was three times, all because stupid humans decided to divide themselves up into "tribes" and "villages" and "kingdoms" and so there was some overlap and boundary conflict.
"Are you familiar with the young woman in Kitamura, long black hair, about to fall in love with her childhood friend the blacksmith? Yeah? Why did you kill her?"
"I understand they worshipped sufficiently to honor all your inspiration in their pottery, but they made no advances in the medical field, and as your sister, I feel as though you should be on my side."
"You need to get their grandmother's spirit out of their house. She's giving the children nightmares."
"Do you really need that much land to build a healing ward? Do you know how many trees were cut, how many animal homes were sacrificed?"
To Natsume, his life was simple: make things hot when needed.
Straightforward, easy, elegant.
If it was hot, it was a Natsume thing. If it was hot because of the sun, it was a God of Sun thing. If it was cold, it was a God of Snow and whoever else she worked with.
And whenever there's fire, it's always just a Natsume thing.
Nobara: "I'm thinking about ending winter early in this region."
Natsume makes summer come early.
Natsume: "They accidentally knocked over a candle and started a house fire."
The God of Souls takes the spirits to cross over to the next plane of existence.
The villagers pray to find more kindling to keep their houses warm.
Natsume makes sure their wood lasts for the night.
He kept his acquaintance circle small, his friend circle even smaller. In fact, the only non-work related God he spoke to was the God of Animals, and that was just because Ruka reached out first, and he gave Natsume plenty of space. Because of their comradeship, Natsume tried to limit the number of wildfires and the animal lives they took, though Ruka understood sometimes fire was necessary for rebirth.
He didn't want to be bothered with diplomacy issues or mandatory meetings. He wanted to live his own life, under his own control and autonomy, free to do his work and not be bothered.
And Natsume simply could not imagine any other life for himself.
After a long, hard day of stoking family hearths and preventing forest fires, Natsume preferred to retreat to his favorite place to rejuvenate himself: Minamimura.
Of all the villages, of all the regions, of all the kingdoms, the temple was always well-kept, and the offerings provided were always a feast. That day, Minamimura did not disappoint: several bowls of rice, ceremonial sake, grilled fish, and handfuls of plums, tangerines, and apples.
Materializing into the sacred dimension, Natsume grabbed the essence of his dinner before settling down in front of the shrine devoted to him and laying out his spread. In his godly form, he technically could not consume anything physical in the human dimension, but it was not the physicality that mattered; it was the essence.
The pure intentions of an offering, the cleanliness in the preparation and handling of the food, the strengthening repetition of the ritual; those were the elements that provided subsistence to the gods.
And Minamimura never disappointed; it was his best-kept secret.
Few gods ever passed through Minamimura because there was not much action - life in the village was simple. It was not heavily populated so the gods were not naturally attracted to the area in the same way they were drawn to large cities with many prayers and many fates.
The people were pious with their daily prayers and their offerings, but they did not go to the extremes to catch the gods' attention as other places. In fact, Minamimura didn't even have a sacrificial altar - the villagers needed the subsistence of the animals to survive much more than any extra blessing they could ask for.
(And the villagers were a peaceful sort - the kind for whom the ritual of human sacrifices would never cross their minds. For that, Natsume was glad; he personally found the idea a bit.. off-putting.)
The village had been overlooked for centuries and would have not caught Natsume's eye had it not been for the new priest. Nonno Sakura had only been appointed about two decades ago (how humans counted time always baffled Natsume - he only needed to know when it was the hot season and when it was the cold season), but with each passing year he was in charge, the shrines were a bit more clean, the prayers a bit more sincere, and the offerings a bit more delicious.
Other gods could have been favored at Minamimura, but for some reason, Nonno had unofficially appointed the God of Fire as their patron god. Their prayers for him were just a second longer; their shrine for him just a centimeter bigger.
Oh, there was beef today, yum; that was Natsume's favorite. He could always rely on Minamimura providing his favorite dishes. Of course, in return, Natsume took special care to ensure they all survived through the winters, all always had enough fire to cook and clean with, and nobody was ever too bothered by the cold.
Pulling the essence from the offerings, Natsume settled down for a quiet dinner, watching the daily proceedings of the temple. Besides Nonno the head priest, a few temple maidens and some passing worshippers kept Natsume company during his meal.
It wasn't that he was lonely, per say… At least… that's what Natsume told himself. He liked to be alone. He liked not being bothered. He had his reasons for not inviting any gods, including Ruka, to join him at Minamimura; he hated small talk and the awkward silences that inevitably arose.
He couldn't imagine what it'd be like to be human, to need companionship and social interaction. He didn't need that; he didn't need any of that.
And so, like most days, Natsume sat in the temple and ate - alone, watching from a distance.
Natsume frowned as he felt out the current temperature - it was too cold; spring should have already arrived. Calling on the God of Wind, always happy to help, he passed a message along the North Wind to Nobara, the God of Snow.
The frosty backlash was instant. Something was happening to Nobara.
Scouring the land while trying to maintain a livable temperature, Natsume spotted his friend, Ruka, directing birds of all kinds to fly southward and guiding woodland creatures to warmer land.
"She's out of control," remarked Ruka when Natsume crept up on him. "They say she's having another bout. Narumi, Noda, Yuu, and others are already helping."
"Anything we can do?"
"Wait it out like last time."
Having learned what he needed, Natsume nodded and took his leave in order to do his part in preventing a mass decline in the human population.
For weeks, Natsume spread his heat as far north as he could, but with Nobara unable to control her emotions, his power, neither inferior nor superior to hers, was only barely able to contain the destruction of the ensuing blizzards, snowstorms, and avalanches.
As more and more villages became aware of the unnaturally long winter, the prayers to Natsume flooded him daily: survival of their crops, enough fire to warm their homes, an end to the godforsaken winter.
Pulled in all directions, his visits to Minamimura increased as the work began to take its toll. Each day, he required more and more rejuvenation, more and more essence to perform his basic functions. It was especially helpful that the villagers themselves were also praying fervently and donating rich, filling offerings to him.
And on one night, he stopped by the priest's home to amplify his blessing on his household.
Popping into his house fire, Natsume had only intended to linger long enough to ensure the fire would burn during the night, but a cry caught his attention.
A baby.
Natsume vaguely recalled that Nonno had a grandchild. It had been presented at the temple to the gods when it had one month of life, and much like the millions of babies before, it had received blessings accordingly.
For a moment, Natsume was puzzled as he tried to remember if he had blessed the baby. Humans rarely asked for the God of Fire's blessing on their lives and destinies, but had he blessed that baby? For the sake of his most devoted priest?
Natsume thought maybe he had; he thought Nonno might have asked for a "fiery spirit," and through a technicality, it had been Natsume's responsibility.
Oh, well, it had been blessed, and Natsume forgot all about it until he saw its ugly, snot-dripping wailing face.
The baby was much too close for Natsume's comfort. For millennia, he had watched from a respectful distance as humans lived their lives - cooked, dried laundry, swept, raised children, told stories, sang ballads.
Nobody ever got close to fire.
Natsume wondered what on earth and in heaven could possess them to leave a baby so close, especially unattended. Then the baby fussed, clearly agitated, before its pitiful cries abruptly ended with a violent shivering.
Oh.
The baby had the shivers.
Those rare times Natsume had to interact with other gods in order to do his work - humans catching the shivers was a delicate situation. In order to enact the cosmic laws, there had to be a balance, which was always precariously but dutifully maintained.
Gods were bound to their duties, sworn to be just and fair, even if humans couldn't accept their ideas of justice sometimes.
The shivers were a Nobara-spawned affliction - coldness seeping into the very bones of a human, the heart freezing, the body unable to produce any heat. Humans could only catch it by breathing in too much of Nobara's icy magic, letting her essence invade their bodies.
Theoretically, Natsume could heal humans who caught the sickness, rekindle the fire of life within them, but there was always a balance. The God of Death could not be denied his due. He was the one who ultimately decided which humans could recover and which would be forevermore living in his realm.
The baby's fate was in his hands.
Part 1: The Bargain