Amala Network

Kagatsuchi: Masked

Location Unknown

Yosho surfaced to the feeling of moisture covering him and a heavy weight resting atop him. With a tight grimace, he opened his eyes to a world stained red and reeking of iron, and groaned. His memories told him Kiyone was on top of him, and with a grunt he shoved the woman off, wheezing with relief at the sudden freedom granted to his body.

His hands felt wet.

Kiyone felt wet too.

Covering his face with one arm, he scrubbed at his eyes, finding the limb smelled just as if not more heavily of the iron smell. I can taste it. He thought, and with some dread opened his eyes again, only to flinch as something wet and slimy struck his face. It landed in my mouth…He thought with dismay, and turned his head to spit it out. Tastes like blood.

Carefully he sat up, clutching his head as spots welled up in his vision. "Why does it feel like Ryoko threw me into a mountain?" He groaned, and looked around.

He was sitting in a puddle of blood.

Or Magatsuhi. It was hard to tell.

The red substance coated him and Kiyone utterly, drenching the two humans in so much red that it was impossible to tell the original color of their respective outfits.

"What...Happened." Yosho said, and heard his voice tremble. "Koneko?"

"I'm here." The youkai had retreated to the perimeter of the hole, still in a humanoid form as he peered from the corridor outside. He glanced over his shoulder at the man. "You are well?"

"What am I covered in?" Yosho dared himself to ask.

"Exactly what you think." Koneko said, and pointed. "Your woman has proved quite dangerous. I did not think any human, regardless of their heritage, could defeat a being like Mezuki with such…devastating effectiveness."

"What does that…" Yosho trailed off as he twisted to look at what Koneko was pointing at.

"Holy shit." He breathed. "Is that…?"

"It is." Koneko agreed, and entered the room, carefully maneuvering around puddles of red that released clouds of glowing red energy. Farther off, separate from the massive corpse already present, Yosho spied two piles resting on either side of the room. It's Mezuki, He knew, yet for the life of him could not wrap his mind around what specifically he was looking at. Climbing to his feet, the man staggered over to the one nearest him, blinking repeatedly as he angled his head to one side. It looked like a leg. It looked like an arm.

Its both. He realized, and despite himself took a step backwards. Its his arm and leg and…and nothing else. The limbs were strewn haphazardly across each other, the leg curled and stiff, the arm's hand still curled around a weapon which no longer existed. Both had been shorn clean at the joint, red Magatsuhi pooling from where they had once been attached to a main body.

The man stumbled back, his eyes traveling to the other mound against his wishes, and finding his eyes now easily identifying the detached limbs for what they were. Kiyone did this? He wondered, and looked over his shoulder back at the woman. Kiyone. How?

"Yosho?"

The man jumped at Koneko's voice, and the man glanced to his right, finding the nekomata staring up at him in concern. "We cannot stay here." Koneko continued. "We must treat Cadejo and leave this place. The Kami can only guide us for so long and we still have—" He stopped himself, and Yosho heard his unspoken words. We still have Tenchi to consider.

The man squeezed his eyes shut and took a several long, meditative breaths, grounding himself as he'd done all his life—when dealing with his father's short temper and high expectations, when dealing with the intolerance of the Juraian nobility who saw him as less of a rival and more as a saboteur determined to put 'filthy monkeys' on the throne, and when in the midst of feeling overwhelmed in combat: against Ryoko, against Nippon's tribal samurai, against Russians and now daemons.

He regained control of himself, though he wanted little more in that moment to release his control and scream, and nodded. "Let's get Cadejo back on her feet." He whispered. The two returned to the unconscious woman's side, and Yosho grabbed Kiyone's discarded 72-hour bag, unzipping it in search of Kiyone's stash of medicine. What he found instead, to his confusion, was a dirty nylon rope, and frowning, the man dug it out. "When did Makibi get-" The words died in his throat as the tenchi-ken appeared on the other end, and for the second time in less than five minutes, Yosho found himself stunned into silence.

He looked down at Kiyone, still unconscious beside him.

He looked back at the tenchi-ken which dangled silently before his face.

Carefully, hesitantly even, the man reached out to touch the Juraian Key with his right hand, a part of him suddenly uncertain if it would recognize him with the world's end.

Yet the wood was smooth to his touch, cool and wooden against his fingertips and free of the bite of rejection. He grabbed it and rubbed a thumb over the gems in the hilt's pommel, feeling them hum with life-Magatsuhi, his mind whispered-within the Juraian wood. The man undid the haphazard nylon knot and freed the key from its plastic rope prison.

It felt warm.

It felt alive.

"It's been a long time, Old Friend," Yosho whispered, and held the Key out before him. A moment of concentration, still second nature, he found, and a beam of blue plasma exploded from the hilt. He smiled at it, hearing it hum against the room's air currents. A moment later, it vanished, leaving an unassuming Juraian Key in its wake once more. The prince pocketed it in his jacket's inner pocket, then re-wrapped the nylon rope and returned it to Kiyone's bag before digging through it for the inner pocket containing her medicinal supplies. "How? How?" The ex-priest glanced back at the unconscious woman."Tenchi-ken appears in your bag, you slay a demon of unerworld legend, you-you…" He stopped himself, returning to the bag, overwhelmed and exhausted. "I don't understand it." He whispered, and sucked in a long, slow breath, releasing it with in a hiss. He came across the medicinal stash and withdrew a smaller internal pouch, a parting gift from Belldandy, which contained all the medicine capsules Kiyone kept on her. The man withdrew three.

"Koneko, can you help me?" He asked and gestured to Kiyone. "Can you prop her up a bit for me? I need to ensure she doesn't choke."

Koneko looked at the woman, and after a moment's hesitation, nodded. He leaned the woman against him and again paused. "Yosho…" He murmured. "…I believe…we may need more than just…just those medicines for Cadejo."

Yosho sighed. "I'm sure you're right." He muttered. "She was already injured when we came across her. I do not believe her most recent…ability will have done her any favors."

Koneko glanced at Yosho, and the man missed the expression on the nekomata's face. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it and looked back to the hole in the wall.

Yosho gently gripped Kiyone's chin and pulled her lips back. He pulled her chin down, and the woman's mouth opened with ease. For a moment the man debated on whether to administer all three capsules at once or individually and found himself entertaining another thought instead.

The Black Hound is missing.

He froze, and looked around, observing his surroundings with sudden, tense scrutiny.

Koneko.

Himself.

Kiyone.

No hound.

He looked back down at Kiyone, and saw how pale she was.

No mantra.

He glanced at his palm, resting in front of her mouth as his fingers gripped Kiyone's chin.

No breath.

He forgot the pills, and brought his free hand to the woman's neck.

No pulse.

For a long, terrible moment Yosho stared into Kiyone's face and found himself frozen. "What did you do?" He breathed, and the world snapped back into sharp, cold clarity. He looked at Kiyone. "Lay her down." He ordered, and shifted to her chest as the nekomata did as instructed. "Not like this." He hissed, and interlocked one hand over the other, placing them both over Kiyone's chest. "Not like this." He repeated, and began pressing down on her chest, counting aloud down every press, pausing after he hit one hundred, and searching for a pulse.

Nothing.

"Damn you, we did not survive Thor of all people just so you could die in this Yomi-ridden hell-hole!" He snarled and began a fresh round of compressions.

"Yosho…" Koneko watched from a distance, his expression scared as he looked between the man and the hole. "Yosho, please, we can't stay here."

"I'm not leaving her," Yosho growled, paused, and once more searched for anything: a breath, a flutter, a rising chest.

Nothing.

He began again and felt his desperation seep into his actions. His arms began to scream against the strain, his wrists throbbing in line with his own heart, growing more and more rapid by the second. "I blacked out for a moment. Only a moment. She can still come back. It wasn't that long.

"But—"

"It was only a moment," Yosho spoke above Koneko, deliberately ignoring the nekomata's words. "A second, a minute at most; she can still be revived; she's a gods damned angel for fuck's sake! I am going to revive her."

"You can-"

"I'm going to revive her!" He roared and felt his forehead thrum with power.

Koneko flinched. "Not like that you aren't." He whispered and scooted close to the man, resting his own hands atop Yosho's. "I can't sense her soul, Yosho. This—this will do nothing if there is no soul within."

Yosho wheeled on the youkai, eyes bright. "Then how?!" He demanded.

The daemon hesitated, then glanced back at Kiyone. His twin tails lashed the air with wild abandon. "There is a way." He said. "I can…I can resurrect her."

Yosho stared at him in silence, and the nekomata's ears pressed against his head. "It is not…not something I would do with a…comrade." He said, "But it can be done. I-I can steal her back. But…" He hesitated and glanced back towards the corpses of Mezuki and Gozuki. "I…fear what I may drag with it. I…will not do it alone." He looked back at Yosho. "If this is what you want-truly what you want-than I require your assistance." He paused, and as an afterthought added, "I beg you Yosho…remember the tale of Izanagi's descent…and the consequences he brought with him."

Yosho stared, his gaze intense as he digested the information. Kiyone could be brought back. But at a cost. What cost? And would he be able to pay that toll? Could Kiyone?

Would it even be Kiyone who is brought back? A voice of warning whispered. You cannot verify what is invisible to you; you hold no domain over spirits-you said as much yourself to the Tengu and Koneko. For all you know, what may come back is a being like The Kami; an entity you have no hopes of understanding and which wields powers unlike anything you've encountered.

"I can't let her die like this." He whispered back to it. "Not after—" He grit his teeth, and felt his eyes burning. "I have lost my world. My life. My grandson. I have found solace with the one person whom understands what I've lived through-be it in the stars or on Earth, and who has saved my life thrice now: upon waking in this world, upon a demon's trial, and now against a guardian of Yomi itself." He closed his eyes, a snarl of defeat on his face. "If I must walk through Yomi and drag this woman back by the ankles, so be it." He proclaimed, and opened his eyes again, centering them on Kiyone's face. "And then I'm going to beat you within an inch of your life for sacrificing yourself like that, you absolute Bitch!"

He wheeled back to Koneko. "If I can summon a Kami into my enemy's body, than I can revive Kiyone. What must we do?"

And though he was unaware of it, within a room stained red with the essence of Magatsuhi, drenched in so much red as to be called a ghoul, within Ol' Koneko's eyes, from his feet, and to his head, the man shined with golden radiance.

The youkai bowed his head, recognizing the mark of divinity even if Yosho himself was unaware of it. "Just as before." He said, his voice soft as he acknowledged Freya's seiðman. "We pray."

With a snarl Pascal lunged at the Hitoshura, who caught the beast with both hands, each on either side of his muzzle, holding the Jaws of Death away from his torso. Moving with the momentum, he pushed the beast to the side and lashed out with his foot as the behemoth hound passed. His foot struck the creature's vulnerable throat, and wheezing, the creature collapsed, rolling as red foam stained his muzzle.

The Demi-fiend paid the beast little mind, his attention already moving to his next target as a ball of violet energy materialized in his hand. In a manner that felt second nature, he squeezed it (as Tenchi had so often watched Ryoko do) and felt the energy manipulate into a sword of malevolent energy.

The creature that pursued him with the Hound, the creature that wore The Other's face and blanketed itself with so much power it was frightening, paused five feet from him, observing him behind a black veiled mask. Farther back, the Tengu, who tickled the edges of his consciousness, stopped as well.

The Kami and the Cursed Hitoshura-the deity and the demon-stood before one another and stared each other down, both observing the other beneath a thin veil of caution.

The scents were strange.

Both familiar.

Both alien.

Both friend.

Both enemy.

And so they stood, waiting on the other for the action which would dictate the other's reaction.

The Kami was the first to act, and it was as the higher mind dictated with words rather than action. "Kuli?" She asked, the word coming out carefully to ensure she was understood. "Lukurra?" She tilted Her head to one side in curiosity, observing the Hitoshura as he mirrored Her gestures with a look of mild curiosity.

"He is an ally, Kami-sama." Hiji spoke up. "However, I do not understand what has happened to him. He is…" The tengu lapsed into silence. "He is like you, now." Went unsaid.

The tengu glanced behind him. The hole which Yosho had disappeared into was no longer in sight; the beast that had attacked the boy had chased him down multiple corridors in an attempt to get him away from whatever 'Mom' was, and after so many twists and turns, they'd grown lost in the liminal space's maze-like design. The youkai snapped his beak. "Kami-sama, we must take him with us. He is not in his right mind but…he is…precious to Ryoko-sama."

The Kami angled Her head back towards him, and he could just see the unblemished half of Her face as one eye, luminescent with an etheral glow, stared back at him from beneath the veil granted to Her. She inclined Her head in understanding, then gestured him back with a small hand wave. Go on, get.

With no small amount of caution, Hiji did as commanded, part of him fearing what The Kami had planned for the Hitoshura. Please avoid killing him. He thought. Your strength was meant for the Guards of Yomi, not the boy.

The Hitoshura narrowed his eyes, the red glow growing more sinister by the moment. He angled himself towards The Kami, sword held before him in an unconscious mimicry of an aggressive Juraian stance, perhaps sensing some level of hostility from the creature before him.

Without warning he lept forward, his face a snarl of bestial aggression as The Kami turned back to observe him. Her own hand came out, and a red sword caught his. The demi-fiend snarled and lept back, only to surge forth again with fresh aggression which was once more repelled by his opponent.

The daemon growled, frustration mounting, and the demi-fiend thrust the blade forward, only for The Kami to sidestep past it, red plasma sword held up in protection of Her own body as she stepped into his guard. Her left hand, free of any weapon, came up to his brow, and a nail touched the center of his forehead.

"Shurpu."

Something-an energy, a presence, an intruder-slipped into his consciousness, and with a howl the Hitoshura fell backwards, clawing at his forehead as The Kami watched on in silence. He felt it squirm beneath his flesh, burrowing like a worm into his skull as it assaulted his consciousness. It burned like an unending fire, and though he could feel no flames upon his brow, still the sensation continued, traveling into his skull and down his spine, towards where the magatama, the primitive 'second brain' which even now dictated his actions while cursed, dwelt.

Along the spike the Intention pressed forward, and with it came a word, a power, a command.

"Purify."

By fire, if necessary.

The magatama within the Hitoshura-one whose nature had yet to reveal itself to the demi-fiend which commanded it-writhed in agony, rebelling against the Intruding Will with all its might and finding it held little agency against the greater Kami.

In a final act of rebellion, the Hitoshura lunged forward with a snarl, and a hand snagged the veil hiding The Kami's face. He tore it from Her form, where two pairs of eyes made contact.

And the Demi-fiend froze as it found itself staring into the lone eye of the Primordial Universe in all its unknowing.

Blood-not a daemon's Magatsuhi, but human blood-trickled from a single nostril as the magatama fled back into the depths of a human's consciousness.

The Kami broke eye contact, twisting to hide The Eye and The demi-fiend,once more a youth by the name of Tenchi Masaki, collapsed at Her feet, shuddering as his body seized for one long, slow minute, before gradually relaxing as pure unconsciousness took its place.

The Kami covered Her face with Her left arm, and Hiji slipped past Her, retrieving the veil and offering it to Her once more. "Thank you, Kami-sama." He whispered and helped return the veil over Her face, listening to Her resigned sigh.

Behind him, the tengu heard the click of nails and looked back over his shoulders, finding the monstrous hound on his feet once more, sniffing Tenchi warily.

"MAGATAMA GONE." He growled, fur stiff and bristled. "NO THREAT?"

Hiji sighed. "I would still say a threat." He grumbled. "A sleeping serpent remains dangerous, still filled with the venom and instinct to strike as it needs. But for now…it sleeps. You are allied to the elder Masaki, yes?"

"MJ." Pascal's tail swayed in acknowledgment. "WITH MOM. KNOW MJ?"

"To an extent," Hiji admitted, and then approached the boy, feeling a wave of trepidation pass through him. I can still sense that malevolent aura. He thought. So this is why the Kurama Tengu warned us against associating with Hitoshura. They're unpredictable; a friend one moment, a beast the next. For any of us to be so close to one is hazardous. "I am Hiji of the Tengu clan." He introduced. "Familiar to Ryoko-sama and those she associates with." He gestured first to Tenchi, then to the Kami at his back. "Your…'MJ' has made a contract with the Divine Kami of the Masaki Mountain," He gestured to The Kami, "To ensure we can escape this place with all of our shared comrades, whole in mind, body, and spirit."

Pascal panted, and tilted his head to one side, glancing between the tengu and The Kami in tentative curiosity, ears perked forward in interest. It seemed he understood. "If you are allied to…MJ, I invite you to join us so that we may retrieve the rest of our allies and depart this place before more…distractions…come for us."

Pascal's tail swayed to one side, lips peeling back to display his teeth. "NO HARM MOM." He warned. "I EAT."

"I have no appetite for any other living being at the moment." Hiji assured, "nor do either of my companions, regardless of their state of…consciousness."

Pascal huffed, then moved past Tenchi, his lips peeling back as he eyed the Hitoshura before sniffing Hiji. "ACCEPTABLE." He said, and then moved to The Kami, sneezing as he sniffed her. "SMELL STRANGE. NOT KAMI-KAMI."

The Kami nodded and offered a hand. Pascal sniffed it, then sneezed again, shaking his whole body this time. "FIND MOM?" He asked.

The Kami nodded.

Pascal panted in a dog's smile, then slipped past her, trotting down the hallway and pausing only long enough to see if any of them were following.

With a sigh, Hiji reached down and wrapped the unconscious Tenchi's arm around his shoulders. "I had hoped you might carry the waif." He grumbled, and with a nod to The Kami, began to trudge forward. The Kami observed him a moment longer before turning and falling in line behind Pascal, allowing the hound to take the lead, and Hiji, accompanied by a Kami-not-Kami and an unconscious demi-fiend, followed along after.

A crossroads.

He stood at a three-way crossroads, the borderlands between life and death and something else, and found a Messenger awaiting him.

"It's a dangerous thing to descend into the Underworld."

The figure appeared before him accompanied by a pack of hounds. One that faced every split of the three-way intersection: a young white one that looked little more than a pup, a brown one in the peak of its life, and an old black one whose muzzle was white with age. At its apex stood a woman, and for a moment he mistook her for the soul he sought.

Yet this woman held the face of his current incarnation's mother; Japanese, porcelain white, ageless and eternal. The expression she wore however was somehow wrong, somehow unnatural as she gazed down at him; infinitely tall and filled with the tight, controlled scorn of a parent never truly satisfied with their offspring.

He cringed beneath her black gaze, finding himself examined, analyzed, and worse yet finding himself wanting as her eyes narrowed.

"This is what is sent from the Amala?" She demanded. "An artificial soul?" She sneered, and he was suddenly overwhelmed by the desire to flee. "And sent by a cat no less…you have forgotten yourself, haven't you, Boy?"

"I don't know." He answered honestly.

The crossroads guardian scoffed. "You reek of Aesir." She scowled. "Have you even any offerings?"

Hesitating, he patted himself down, searching for a coin, a donation, or even a dog treat that might appease the woman before him. Yet there was nothing outside of a long line of yellow, silken ribbon in his pocket, tangled and knotted as all such things forgotten things tended to become. He held it in his right hand and felt a wave of despair sweep across his chest as the dogs bared their teeth; one with the teeth of a lion, another that of a bovine, and another yet with a man's jaws.

"Your stench is thick with Wolf and Chaos." The woman scrunched her face up in displeasure. "And you bare with you no offering but a chain." She hissed. "I should feed the Wolf to the Hounds now and be done with you before you recall your purpose. The Underworld is no place for one so cursed as you, and you've done enough damage in your previous incarnations to last these lands into a new Conception. I would see you gone, Beast."

"I will leave peacefully if I may acquire the soul I was sent to retrieve." He replied. "I know not what hostilities my past lives have conducted, but I assure you I remain peaceful. I have no lust for blood."

The Crossroads Guardian scoffed. "That much is evident." She said. "You have lost your spine in this incarnation; the Rougeling Child you hunted stole what ferocity was once so inherent in you. For that we should all be considered blessed."

"What…do you mean?"

The woman didn't answer him. "You came for the angel then? The one dragged down here by Yomi's Guardians?"

"Yes."

"Yet you bear no offering to me or my hounds. You are a living soul, yet on the periphery of the borderlands. What reason have I to allow you passage without retribution?"

"I…cannot say." He said, "What is within my power to provide you?"

The woman's eyes narrowed in consideration, and he was overcome with a horrible unease as he realized what he'd just offered: Offering without constraint; his ability to find the wayward soul, nay, the Guardian's permission to cross the boundary between Life and Death and seek the soul in exchange for whatever this wayward spirit so demanded.

A smile, cruel and calculating, slid across the Guardian's face with the smooth ease of a serpent across still water. "Give me," She began, "A token of good faith, that I may call upon you for a time when I require you."

"I have only this ribbon."

"Your chains are not what I desire, Artificial Soul." The Crossroad's woman said. "Give me a token of your goodwill. A piece of yourself that will link me back to you, that I may call upon you for such a time when I have need of you."

"A piece of me." He quoted. "You seem to be asking a heavy price to allow me simple passage."

A slim black eyebrow raised. "You believe that is all I allow? You to simply cross from one boundary to the other? You think me so diabolical to make such demands without payment of equal value? Have the Aesir re-educated you in nothing of the gods? Or do you believe me some lowly spirit; a demon meant to take advantage of your ignorance?"

"I claim to know nothing of you." He said. "You claim to know me and identify me by past incarnations I am unaware of, yet you have not introduced yourself as is proper. Your appearance is that of my own mother wearing my father's scorn, and so I am left to my own assessments of who you are and I am unfamiliar with all of the Earth's entities. You are not Izanami, for your bearing in too unlike what the legends speak of her. You aren't of any myth that I am aware of surrounding Tsunami or her myths either though. Dogs are Earth's guardians, not Jurai, and the creatures do not exist anywhere on the planet." He shook his head. "Forgive me, but I do not know you."

"Perhaps that will work to both our benefit." The Guardian mused. "Truth will forever be spoken when it remains hidden from those who speak it."

He held his silence.

The woman regarded him with cool interest. "Grant me your first incarnation which lies buried within your chest." She demanded. "In exchange, I shall retrieve the angel you seek to ensure you do not damage this world. You will not be permitted to pass…but then, you were never permitted. Not you. Not with the apprehensible curse you bare." She smiled, and he felt the hair rise on his neck; the woman's teeth had grown less human and more canine through their discussion, and only now was he made aware of it as her lips peeled too far back, revealing the line of canines within. "Worry not. Consider it a…boon. Your incarnation shall stay where it belongs, safe here in the underworld, and it will be returned to you at a later time; be it when you expire or when I find use of you. But…perhaps it will assist you and the angel in your travels, to be unburdened by that which is cursed to follow Death."

He stared at her, confused; had it not been the angel that drew death? Was she not the one accompanied by two death hounds and a fiend? Yet he was the cursed one?

The Guardian saw his face and laughed, a sound that was dry and rasping, a dog's panting laugh that made his skin crawl by its sheer unnaturalness. "All angels hold dominion over certain things." She explained. "Little Hecuba has discovered kinship with the Deaths, but is not haunted by them. You are different, however. Long ago, an all-powerful god was brought to heal by the soul his servants created, and that soul was cursed to suffer endlessly for it." The woman narrowed her eyes, and he saw that they were no longer the same burgundy as his but instead gold. Gold irises like a wolf or hound that regarded him in contempt. "However…should the incarnation itself remain resting in the underworld, its current incarnation may yet find piece in the Conception it is forced to experience." The gold eyes glittered with calculation. "And the beast bound in ribbon may yet be of use."

He stared at the guardian in trepidation, alarm bells ringing in his ears as red flags flashed through his mind's eye. "You wish," He said, "To have my first incarnation."

"I make no wish." The woman said. "I demand."

"In exchange for the soul I came to retrieve."

"If you find it unappealing, then I shall make it in appeasement for the insult of a living being such as yourself approaching the underworld uninvited." The Guardian said, "And you will gain nothing in return. I hold no love for invaders of the Living descending into the realms of the dead to steal what is not theirs. Inanna and Enki's Dirt faeries, Orpheus, Izanagi…Persephone and Horus at least understood the need to divide their time between here and the land of the living, but entities like you steal without considering the consequences of such selfishness."

He held his silence.

"Make your choice then. Either accept my offer or leave. A boon of an incarnation which does nothing for you in exchange for the angel or nothing and return to the cat as the cursed soul you are."

"You aren't giving me many options."

"I'm giving you plenty. You have two; that is more than I should give you when approach me without coin or offering."

A long silence loomed before them, a soul scrutinized by the beings before him.

They all have the same eyes. He realized. They're all the same being; different aspects of the same entity. Four pieces that comprise the whole. With it came another, more ominous thought. They could eat me if they so chose. Had it not been his own mother, whose face this Guardian now wore, whom once warned him in childhood of the dangers of crossroads and the offerings which needed to be presented? A silly habit, one his father had scoffed at and had called 'backwater', yet ingrained in him from an early age to be mindful of? 'Crossroads are like Torii; they represent the gates to other worlds. Be mindful you never approach one at night without a little coin in your pocket or a bit of food you can part with; you never know what may appear.'

He grit his teeth, then bowed his head in submission. "By your demand." He said, "I shall abide."

The dogs' mouths peeled back in a hound's smile, and the woman's eyes narrowed in pleasure. "Then come here."

He stepped forward, and found a hand, the fingers long and slender and tipped in nails thick and long like a dog's, rising to meet him. The hand rested at his chest. "Brace yourself."

It was the only warning he received before the hand dug into his torso. He felt a pressure-not necessarily a pain but an invasion of sorts-and felt something wrap around…a piece of him. What he didn't know: not his heart, not his ribs, not his lungs or any other piece he could identify, but something deeper, more intimate, a carnal piece of him so sacred that a whimper rose unprovoked from his lips.

Another hand came to rest on his shoulder, bracing him.

A yank.

And he had the exquisite horror of seeing his body torn in twain, a body born from a body, free of blood or gore but holding instead in its essence an ethereal umbilical cord of such intense white that in that moment he could not make out the person's features. Yet he found it mattered not; for in that span of eternity he knew, seeing both through his eyes and the eyes of another, and all the life it had lived before its expiration and retirement to the Underworld.

"-t Hawk W-"

The incarnation was gone, vanishing into a formless energy.

A moment later, a large dog came to stand beside the Crossroad's Guardian, watching him with gray-black eyes and long, thick black fur.

It looks like a wolf, He thought, like the beast sleeping beside the Tree of Darkness.

A hand moved to rest on the creature, whose gaze remained cemented on him, staring at him as if in accusation. The Guardian stroked it, then turned to regard him. "With that, our deal is set." She said. "I shall return that which has been taken at a later time. Until then…"

With one hand on the beast, she raised her other and snapped.

The crossroads vanished, and in its place was a world filled with white, empty of form or substance that he could see.

He could hear wind chimes.

His ears perked up. Something bright flashed far off in the distance, and he strained his eyes to identify it. Light of rainbow hues enveloped his vision, and at its core he saw—

Tenchi grunted, feeling his body rock to a nauseating pulse as his head pounded with what felt like the worst migraine of his life. The youth grimaced, and something in the back of his neck, along the base of his spine, spasmed in such wretched agony that he gasped, golden eyes shooting open and staring but not quite seeing the honeycomb ceiling as the orbs failed to focus. Instead they watered, tears of misery that seeped to the corner of his eyes and leaked down his face, drenching his cheeks as he gulped in one painful breath after the other.

His body felt as if it was on fire. Like he was sweating out a fever that had no end, like he'd ingested something which needed to die, like his body was trying to kill it and destroying himself in the process. "…ko…" He tried to sound out a word, a name, a god, but found his lips too parched, his throat too dry, and the sound which emerged was not his voice but a harsh, rough whisper.

He heard a grunt above him and grimaced, trying and failing to focus on it.

A word, and even that came out as a strange, faint din, as though he had water in his ears. As though my brain is leaking. He thought, and blinked with fresh desperation. "H..lp…" He mumbled.

Another voice, this one achingly familiar and yet just outside the peripheries of recollection and playing havoc on his memory. Pulsing black spots blossomed across his vision, and he whimpered as he felt something soft and gentle rest against his head. Something prodded the center of his forehead-not physically or even mentally but some other layer of his psyche he had no name for; an ethereal body that he'd only just begun to understand and which he held little sway over.

"Udii elum-e," A voice like cool, thick honey whispered in his mind, and the whole of his body seemed to hum to the strange language. "Ni' mu-un-tsal iue'e gigdum." It said, and he felt a hand run through his hair. "Let your pain become my pain. Rest."

The misery began to fade as his body vibrated, diminishing with every pulse until it became something manageable, something usable. He opened his eyes, finding himself wrapped in the arms of two demons: Hiji, who held him at an awkward angle, resting on one knee as his staff rested propped against one shoulder, and Ryoko ("it's not Ryoko", some piece of him-the Magatama-whispered), who knelt beside Hiji, her arms wrapped around his chest as she ran a hand through his hair, mindful of the horn in his neck.

She wore a veil.

"Kami." Tenchi croaked.

Ryoko nodded, and he felt the impression of a smile as the space pirate regarded him.

"What…happened?" He blinked and saw the negative imprint of something strange and cthonic behind his eyelids. I am seeing without my eyes. He realized. And what I see is Alien.

"You became Cursed." Hiji said. "Something occurred which allowed the magatama to possess you. The Kami of the Masaki Mountain has purified your body and returned control to you."

"Ry…o…ko?" He tried, and squirmed, trying to sit up and instead gasping as fresh pain sprouted in his body. He fell back with a cry, landing against something soft and warm, and looked up to find the space pirate staring down at him from beneath the veil. Later, when the pain was gone and the adventure had ended, he would pause to reflect on his unintentional good fortune of falling atop the woman's chest, but for now there was only the fading pain and the disorientation of the world around him as he tried to remember where he was and how he'd gotten there.

"I…member…a lady." He grunted, and covered his eyes, rubbing his temples as a fresh wave of pain swept across his brain. "Ca-Cadho…" He tried to recall her name, and saw instead an image of iridescent feathers with eye spots on the tips, like a massive peacock. Except it wasn't a peacock. He remembered. The eyes were real but she wasn't. That-that lady. The human who wasn't one. She…she wasn't real. But the feathers with the eyes were.

He groaned, recognizing how little his own thoughts made sense.

"Let me sit up." He tried, and was amazed he could get a full sentence out this time. "Need…medicine." He grunted, and as The Kami and Tengu helped the Hitoshura sit up, the youth checked his pockets, dismayed to find them empty. "Thought…I had a Bead." He mumbled, then shook his head.

A grunt from the Kami, and a hand came to rest on his cheek. She murmured something, and the Hitoshura found himself enveloped in a bright blue swirl of energy. For a brief moment Tenchi thought he spied leaves and feathers dancing around them, thought he scented pine needles and the creek in front of his grandfather's shrine-home, he thought-yet before he could hold on to the sensations to better examine them, they vanished, leaving in its wake an end to the fatigue which had so utterly consumed him.

He blinked, looking up at possessed space pirate. "Could…you always do that?"

The Kami inclined Her head in a single nod.

"The Kami of the Masaki mountain is capable of many miracles. I do not know if Ryoko-sama is aware she herself is capable of those same feats." Hiji clarified. "Stand. We cannot linger much longer."

"Ah, right…" Tenchi carefully climbed to his feet, amazed to find that while not all of his injuries and aches were gone, the majority were and what remained was tolerable. He rubbed his neck, running his fingers along the length of his horn, and found even that ache had eased, and looked between Hiji and The Kami. "You speak like…Ryoko and the-the Kami aren't the same."

"They are two sides of the same being." Hiji clicked his beak. "At least…that is my interpretation. The Kami is the Godform; the being we Youkai of the Masaki Mountain prayed to for aid. The deity that grants rain in times of drought and safety in times of war. Ryoko-sama is…" He looked to the Kami as if for clarity.

"Dingir." The Kami supplied, looking between them both. She said a long line of words Tenchi couldn't understand, gesturing to first her body, and then her head, and both Tenchi and Hiji stared.

The Kami sighed and shook her head, waving them off. Forget it.

Tenchi pursed his lips. "But…is Ryoko okay?" He pressed, "Is…is she coming…back?"

He got two nods from The Kami, and the possessed pirate ruffled his hair in affection. He flinched, the action both familiar-like what Ryoko would do-but yet somehow so…wrong in how the action was done that he shivered. The teen ran his hands through his hair as the woman's hand fell away, finding it thick with static; as if woman's fingers were charged with electricity. Fighting off a frown, the youth regarded Hiji. "Where are we going?"

"To retrieve the Death Hound's allies," Hiji said. "And escape here before something else takes note of us." He gestured to he hound in question, and found Pascal eying him with suspicion, tail ramrod straight and alert with hackles raised.

"Cad-Cad-de-ho." Tenchi tried, "And…Emjay, right?"

Pascal rumbled but did not reply right away, regarding the teen in tension. Finally he spoke, "YOU CURSED." He accused. "CURSE AGAIN, I RIP OUT THROAT." He bore his fangs at the demi-fiend.

Tenchi flinched at the promise within the jaws. "I-I understand." He swallowed, "Ah, I-um…right. No more uh…curses."

The hound huffed, then turned away, continuing onwards without another comment.

"You cannot control the Magatama which are capable of cursing you." Hiji warned. "But you can learn which ones will be of danger to you. Learn them, and prevent such disaster from occurring again. The Death Hound speaks truth; should you allow it to occur again, you will be put down; not even Ryoko-sama will stop that. A Hitoshura that has succumbed to its base desires when cursed is a danger to all. They are no better than fiends, and must be put down as such. Do not forget that, Boy."

Hiji continued forward, falling into step behind Pascal, and Tenchi watched him go with rising apprehension.

A hand rested on his shoulder, and he looked up, finding The Kami at his side. She squeezed it once in reassurance, then moved it to his back, encouraging him forward.

He took a step in reflex, then looked back up at her. "What…happened to us?" He asked. "To you? To-to me? I-I can't remember anything Ryoko, and I'm…I'm scared."

The woman regarded him behind the mask, then shook her head slowly. I don't know. It seemed to say, and his heart sank as he looked back at the retreating figures of the two demons in despair.

"I hurt someone again, didn't I?" He whispered. "Like you. Like-like Lilly."

An arm wrapped around his shoulders, drawing him close to the space pirate beside him. He didn't resist, instead leaning into her and feeling tears of suppressed anger well in his eyes. "What did I do?" He whispered and turned his face into Ryoko's outfit, allowing the warm cloth to absorb the tears. "What did I do?!"

Yet The Kami that possessed his best friend had no answer, and instead merely held him, allowing him to grieve for memories lost to a possession given without consent, his consciousness briefly dipping into the Abyss of a True Demon and the mayhem which was its inherent nature.

At length Tenchi sighed, pulling away as he scrubbed at his eyes. "Come on." He looked at the floor, seeing but not quite grasping the way the river of Magatsuhi seemed to flow into the woman beside him. Instead he sniffed. "We-we gotta get out of here."

The Kami nodded, and together the two raced to catch up with the others.

Pascal's nose led them easily down hallways which, Tenchi recalled, would have led them back to some point farther back. Yet the hound navigated the linear maze with ease, encountering neither daemon nor massive underworld entity whose pure intent was to knock them into Yomi.

Yet as they approached their query down the next hall, spying the crumbled ruins of a shattered wall, collectively the entire pack of daemons froze.

The air was oppressive, the horrible lighting of the honeycomb walls subdued as if cast in shadow.

Pascal's lips pulled up in a mute snarl, and Hiji felt his feathers rise as he sensed eyes-like but unlike Kagatsuchi-turn its gaze upon him. Tenchi glanced around, a rare thought in his mind, predator, yet could not for the life of him find a source. He looked to The Kami, and found even she had taken note, frozen mid-step, half her weight resting on one heel; the image of a decorated marble statue come to life.

She released a breath, and Tenchi felt the hair on the nape of his neck rise in alarm as a visible steam emerged through the veil, taking on the visage of creatures which tore themselves asunder before fading into non-existence. "Irkalla?" She inquired, and for a moment she changed, no longer a woman, a pirate, a kami, but something else, something massive, with eyes that blazed, a halo of illumination binding features of fur, flesh, and scale. He blinked, and The Kami was gone, racing past Pascal before the hound could react.

Pascal yelped, retreating from The Kami with his tail tucked as the being vanished down the hall and through the hole in the wall. The hound looked back at the demi-fiend and tengu with ears pressed flat against his skull. "WHAT THE FUCK." He demanded.

Tenchi shook his head, equally at odds but made wary by the oppressive atmosphere. "Let's find out…" He muttered, and made his way after The Kami, following after a wary Hiji and the massive hound who, in that moment, appeared more like an alarmed dog rather than a terrifying demon.

A strange miasma-not the bitter aura of a cursed magatama but something equally dark, something dead, was wafting from the hole. With no small amount of trepidation, Hiji approached it. Pascal pushed past him to slip inside, however it wasn't until an equally cautious Tenchi slipped inside that the tengu followed.

The room was dark. The illumination had faded from the room, leaving the bright yellow honeycomb now a dark and muddied brown. Corpses-or at least their pieces-lay scattered about like a child's toys, and Tenchi felt alarm bells go off in his head when he took note of what appeared to be a massive hoof-and the leg it was once attached to-lying off to his left.

He could see two beings standing inside the room, and several more off to one side: Pascal, approaching to his surprise, two humans, both of them collapsed on top of each other. He recognized one as the woman who'd held him at gunpoint. The other looked…familiar. A nekomata, one he also thought he recognized, stood beside the man, yowling with alarm as he tried to get the mortal moving.

Towards the center of the room he spied The Kami, standing firm and resolute before a daemon Tenchi did not recognize, a tall, red, humanoid dressed in a Chinese judge's robes from an era long passed.

"So you are the miscreants staining the Amala Network with your crimes." The daemon sneered, glowering a The Kami with dead white eyes. "You trespass in your living bodies filled with Ego, then slay my own Guardians when they attempt to stop you!" He snarled, and leveraged a sword, ancient and covered in a calligraphy so complex Tenchi couldn't read it, at The Kami. "One is finally brought to heel, yet before the soul is claimed thou hast stolen it from thee by not only a theiving feline, but a mortal as well!" He bore his teeth in a snarl, teeth bright against black lips and a long, straight mustache that flowed into the length of his black beard. "Now thy rise to contend with this threat, and find more Underworld entities possessing physical bodies…and a Hitoshura atop it all?" His voice began to rise. "Thy Amala hath been desecrated!"

The being drew the sword back, dipping into a threatening display as he squared off against The Kami. "Thou standeth before Enma-O of the Tenma Clan, King of Jigoku and Guardian of the Amala Network. Thee hath been instructed by thy Powers That Be to ensure no one holds physical domain within this land, and it shalt be enforced." He drew his sword back and held up his left hand before him. It erupted in blue fire. "Return to thout Underworld, amongst the Legions of the Dead wherest thou belongs!"

With a roar, a stream of blue flame descended upon The Kami, who vanished before it could touch her. Unobstructed, it raced towards the two fallen humans, only for both Pascal and the nekomata to leap forwards with twin howls as they came to their fallen comrades' defense. It collided against the flames of the Living, clashing and painting the walls strange shades of rainbows as the magical flames of three different entities entwined around each other.

Enma-O had little time to ruminate on the action, as The Kami appeared over his head, bearing a red plasma sword down on his head.

Yet the Death Deity was experienced, and brought his sword to catch Hers with ease, white eyes glaring into the face behind the veil. "Thou believeth greater than Death?" He demanded, "Begone!" His left hand moved to grab her, the fingers enveloped in a black aura.

The being vanished before She could be touched, and Pascal snarled, racing towards the man as the nekomata shrieked, casting an inferno that enveloped the hound entirely. The flames lapped at the beast's form, encasing the creature in flames, and he collided with the Underworld Entity, knocking Enma-O to the floor and enveloping the deity in the shared flames as massive jaws clamped down upon the god's sword-baring right arm.

"Wretched beast of Hades, release thee!" The deity appeared none the worse for wear despite Pascal's best efforts. "Thine Judgment is cast! Thout art Guilty!" A black-violet aura exploded from Enma-O's form, and everyone present were thrown to the ground.

Somewhere off against a wall, Yosho groaned and clutched his head, while Kiyone's hands twitched, the fingertips enveloped in the same black-violet aura that had been thrown at them.

"Am I dead yet?" The woman whimpered.

Yosho grunted and pushed himself to his hands and knees.

"Last time…I do…anything…like that…again." Yosho said between huge gulps of air. He looked pallid and sickly. "Not even—Not even Achika." He swallowed, looked around, and saw Enma-O.

The man wilted at the sight of the deity, his forehead dropping against the floor with a moan. "Oh, come on." He groaned. "What the hell is this?" He sounded less afraid and more frustrated.

"Hey!" Tenchi scrambled to his feet, noticing the man and calling out to him, and with a start the human turned to the youth. "You guys need to get out of here! We'll handle-" The words died in his mouth as a pair of burgundy eyes met gold. "Grand…pa?" The disbelief, the raw hope in the simple word was so forlorn it hurt to hear. The man flinched, ready to respond and denied the opportunity when instead the massive God of Death appeared before the demi-fiend.

"Begone!" He roared and brought the sword down on the teen's head. On instinct, Tenchi sidestepped to the left, and with a roar that sounded less-than-human, he grabbed the being's arm with both hands. A breath of chilling ice expelled from the hitoshura's lungs, washing over the god, yet like the fire, it seemed to have no effect on the red-skinned god.

"Thou thinketh so weak?" The god raised his right arm, and with a yelp Tenchi rose with it. "Return to the Underworld from which thou emerged, Welp!" His right arm whipped out, and the Hitoshura was flung into a wall with enough force to crater it, collapsing to the ground with a boneless flop.

"Tenchi!" Yosho was on his feet before he could think, adrenaline surging through his veins as he grabbed Myrkur. With a roar, he threw himself at the god, only for Enma-O to wheel on him with a snarl. The Underworld Entity parried the Goetia sword with ease, and the man retreated, his arms singing as the divinity turned his focus on the mortal.

"Thoust try thine patience, Rat." The god was fast, the massive blade faster yet, and aggressive on top it all in a manner that reminded Yosho of Duke Aym. The man found himself on the retreat, only to dive to the right as some sixth sense screamed of danger to his left. A second later and the god was enveloped in red plasma and ethereal blades of wind, bringing the divinity to a pause as he covered his face.

"Enough of this farce!" Enma-O roared, and once more a black-violet energy surrounded him. "Thy patience is at thy limit! Thou art banished from this land!" The Divine Death brought his sword up against his chest, then thrust the blade upward as if piercing the sky directly above him.

And those who bore witness watched a hole appear above his head as if he had achieved exactly that. A fracture, a void, an abyss. It hung there, black and forlorn, where it began to pulse.

The fracture exploded, and the world grew fragmented and white.

Comments of a Madwoman: Mortals stand before the eyes of Gods, and find themselves wanting. What a foolish affair, to live beneath the deceptive belief that Death Divine can be killed.

Cathedral of Shadows:

Enma-O: Origin: India. In Hindu lore, he is a god who manages hell. He has been incorporated into Buddhism as well, where he is well-known as King Enma. He was originally born human and had a twin sister named Yami. Yama died first, which filled Yami with sorrow. The gods created day and night for her to forget Yama. As the first person to die, Yama was given the role of guiding the deceased to the land of the dead, but he eventually began punishing them according to their deeds while alive. Originally, the land of the dead consisted only of heaven, but through Yama's work, hell was born over time and he came to manage it. The text on Yama's sword means "guide all sufferings".