It's been a very long time since I've written here. I missed Okami. I'm older now, and I'd like to think my writing's better, but I know the Okami fandom has dwindled. If you're reading this, it means you braved the other chapters that I wrote in all of my Fourteen-Year-Old-ness, and for that I am very grateful. I hope you enjoy it!

(This is take two. The original posting came up like a line of code. Whoops!)


Waka stole through the grasses and quarries and groves of the Celestial Plains like a thief in the night. Sweat brimmed at his forehead, matting down his shimmering golden hair. He paused for breath alongside one of the cherry blossom trees, grasping it for balance and digging his nails into the bark. His head was splitting and his eyes were watering, but his task was one quite literally of life and death. If he didn't warn the Celestials they would be slaughtered. The Oni would leave no one alive. Even the shimmering royal, with rosy cheeks and slick white hair, would be put to the sword.

He choked for a moment, tearing in air like he had never breathed. Where was she? Was she already dead? Her clothes, shucked carelessly at the pond, were they all that remained?

No. He couldn't think that way. If he was going to even attempt this rescue, he had to be optimistic and assume she had escaped, naked or not. He scraped his fingers down the wood of the trunk and pushed his weight back to his own feet. Amaterasu was not the only one who needed saving.

"Please, you must listen!" Waka begged the Celestial before him. He had seen her chatting with Amaterasu before and sought her out, as only one of a few familiar faces in this strange land. She eyed him suspiciously, the wings that sprouted from her head pinned back in trepidation.

"I must do nothing. My king and the Lady Amaterasu are the only two who could command me to leave my home, and perhaps not even they." She said it not harshly, but with a breath in her voice that told only of pity. Pity for the foreign lunatic who pleaded her departure. He had encountered this pity before, and would not be deterred.

"These orders come from Izanagi himself," he ignored her gasp at the informality of using the king's name, "We must depart, Céleste."

"My name is Kei."

"No, that's–" He huffed, "–nevermind. If you don't gather the other Celestials you will die. All of you will be exterminated. The Oni leave no survivors and take no prisoners."

She crossed her arms. Her hovering made him uneasy, but nothing made him more uncomfortable than futile begging. Kei looked off into the distance, her eye caught by something more interesting.

"Smoke?" She breathed. Waka turned and sure enough, great black plumes were cast up miles and miles away, in the direction past where Waka had run. He whipped back around and stared at her, willing her to color ran from Kei's cheeks. "Let's say you were telling the truth," she croaked, "If I gathered everyone, how would we escape? This is an airborne island."

Waka looked at her and saw the fury in her eyes, the acceptance of her own demise. Her steely blue eyes were those of a scholar, not a warrior, yet she was prepared to fight to the death all the same.

"If you can gather the Celestials onto my ship, I can fly us to safety."

Kei nodded and turned to leave, but turned for one last question:

"Where is the princess?"

Waka climbed two and three stairs at a time, racing up the palace stairs towards the royal chambers, his geta clacking on the marble. The guards were gone; Kei had made quick work of them. He had already checked a few other spots that Kei had spoken of, Amaterasu's frequent hideaways. Her room seemed unlikely as he had already been there, but it was worth a try.

He stepped into Amaterasu's room for the second time, delicately wading into her privacy.

"Amaterasu?" He whispered, knowing already there would be no response. He considered her bedchamber with a sad curiosity knowing that one way or another, the royals would not be returning to the palace past this night. She had papers scattered across the floor, the messiness a sharp contrast to the pristine, intentional decoration of the rest of the castle. The floor had random ink stains where he imagined she knocked over pots when becoming too entrenched in painting. The thought struck him suddenly. She was an artist. Stacks of etchings and paintings and scribbles lined the edges of the room, and in the center, among the mess, was her most recent project. She had crudely pasted several pieces of paper together to create a larger canvas. It had rippled blue and purple and red for the most part, a great sunset of colors washing over it, but in the center was his ship, careening out of the stars.

His chest clenched in agony, his lungs devoid of air. He pictured her nose scrunched up in concentration, pouring over this painting with the intensity of a master. He imagined colors smeared in her hands, on her clothes, in her silver hair. He envisioned her dead, with slashes in her side and blood sinking into the grass.

Waka stepped onto the ship on which he had arrived on this world. He was a clumsy pilot, but Moon Tribe technology was notorious for being convoluted. None of the dozens of Celestials aboard had any hope of flying it. At one point he may have felt pride over being the savior of a species, but now he only felt the stone sunken into his stomach and the grief pricking in his eyes. He entered the interior of the ship, and a few hundred faces turned to him in a mix of fear and agony and discomfort. The ship was big enough to hold all of them, barely, with a grand open floor and two layers of balcony above him, stairs spiraling between them. The blue glow of the internal workings of the ship lit up those golden faces, the mixture of colors casting a green filter. Waka was grateful for this, for he figured he was going to be green either way.

The murmurs throughout the crowd rippled back and forth, but Waka noticed Kei standing near the front with her features set in stone. She looked at him expectantly and he realized he was in charge by default, the only one familiar capable of leading them. He cleared his throat.

"Everyone," he called out, drowned out by the whispers of the crowd. "Everyone!" He yelled. A hush fell over the sea of green and gold. "I know you're all tired and scared. I know that to you I'm a foreigner," he said, and a mumble of agreement went through the Celestials, "but we have something in common tonight. If we don't get out of this place, we're all going to die," he caught his breath, shocked at his own words, and pressed on, "Right now your king and the people that went after him are fighting valiantly, giving us time to leave–" he couldn't tell them he had left their princess to die, "–and Amaterasu is fighting alongside them. For their sake, we must leave."

The crowd made no motion to murder him, which Waka felt was a win. He didn't know if the speech had uplifted them or shot their spirit, but if they stayed any longer...

The groups went back to speaking amongst themselves, a little less fear and a little more resolve in their eyes. Waka charged through them to the far end and positioned himself in front of the controls. He noticed he had been followed. Kei floated behind him, gazing out onto the plains through the bay window.

"You didn't find her?" She let it out almost like a breath. Waka said nothing and flicked on the ship's power.


I realized I enjoy a good cliffhanger! I hope you liked it. I won't do the hostage-holding of requiring a certain amount of reviews anymore, but if you were to leave one and let me know Okami still has some fans I would be immensely appreciative. I make no promises for updates, only that I assure you I will try. Until next time! Adieu!