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One step, two steps. The rocks don’t do much when she’s around them. They’re a solace, to her—one of the few things she can touch without them withering away.
Jirou Kyouka—the mistress of Autumn and commander of death was feared. The mortals stayed away from her. The gloves she wore could only last so long before they, too, crumbled to her touch. Bringing the season Autumn to the area where she lived wasn’t hard. Where she stepped, toadstools sprouted and the dirt paled. The touch of a finger on a tree turned the leaves from green to yellow to orange to red to brown to dead.
Her touch—the touch of the reaper—was her curse. As the mistress of Autumn, she brought the trees to their last breaths. Everything the mortals grew slowly died off as the pendant around her neck grew in power as the months passed. A press of her fingers and boom: life ended, game over. She wasn’t meant to reap souls—there’s already a god for that, destructive and angry as he may be, he’s no Jirou Kyouka. The Reaper—he’s known as Katsuki, to the other deities—doesn’t seem to hate Kyouka, but he doesn’t seem to like her much, either. The last time they saw each other, he cursed at her for “making him work so damn much” during the months of Autumn.
Before the creation of the seasons, even before the creation of the sun and moon—during The Beginning—the world existed in an eternal, summer day-like state. Crops grew without question, flowers rarely wilted, and the sun always floated gently in the sky. However, the humans did something to upset the gods—no one besides the gods is sure of what they did to deserve their punishment: the punishment of Autumn. Kyouka’s primary role in this world is to bring suffering. She herself is the embodiment of death and a mean to find an end.
She was made out of leaves and the slightest wither in a flower petal. The curve of the sickle as it chopped up vegetables—that’s what Kyouka was made from. When the gods declared her as complete, she explored the fields, looking for something to do, not noticing the trail of death she left behind. Toadstools grew where she stepped, and the trees and grass she had touched all withered away, wilting and going gray. Food stopped growing, as if her existence stopped them from doing it all together. The humans grew weary—they wanted rest.
The gods pitied the dying mortals, and created the three other seasons, and the sun and moon to create day and night. They made it so that the seasons’ powers were weaker without the help of the Solsinox Gem, a jewel that amplified seasonal abilities so that powers wouldn’t go haywire. Of course, Kyouka’s touch of death remained, with or without the Solsinox.
Kyouka was the only one with the touch of the reaper, the only one with an uncontrollable power of death. The other deities that had been created in her wake were nothing like her: none of them
So, when she was alone (which was mostly), she cried, cried, and cried.
Her only companions were the butterflies, now.
Time flowed hazily in this area. It was one of the few places where an Autumn Breakdown had occurred—places where the embodiment of Autumn sat and sobbed her sadness out into the ground—Himiko knew that much. The dirt was dry and thin, tinted gray. The trees were gnarled and dead. The only living things in the vicinity were bunches of toadstools and Himiko herself. Did it count as being living when you were a goddess of mischief and trickery? Did it count as being living when you couldn’t die? Himiko wasn’t sure, but she was sure she liked to have fun, and that was enough for her, in any case.
Tomura had told her—find Autumn, and snag the gem—what gem? And how exactly was she supposed to find Autumn when all she ever does is sob about how much she destroys? Autumn Breakdowns were the only hints at where the seasonal deity might be, but even so they pointed very faintly towards nowhere.
Oh well, Himiko thinks, grinning maniacally at the dusty earth. I’m sure I’ll run into her eventually.
The days faded into the nights much faster, and snow began to fall, which meant Kyouka was to give the Solsinox Gem to Winter. Winter was the most similar to Kyouka—both had a touch of death. However, Winter’s was controlled. Kyouka scrunched up her nose at the thought—her eyes tilted upwards with a silent plead, a silent, unasked why on her lips as she quietly placed the choker in Winter’s cold hands. As Winter touched it, the choker transformed into a band, and Winter gingerly placed it on her head.
It’s a very interesting sight, Kyouka thinks, to look at how the two seasons are so different. Kyouka wears nothing fancy, considering her job as a season. All she wears is a black cloak, fashioned to look like that of a reaper. Winter, on the other hand, looks elegant. Her black hair is let loose, softly pillowing in curvy waves at her shoulders. She wears a delicate white top, straps framing her neck but holes where her shoulders are, attachable sleeves falling gracefully from where they are placed. A rather dreamy skirt, like a cloud, floats at her hips, sheer black leggings underneath. She looks like the epitome of grace, and it’s overwhelming and lovely to look at. Kyouka’s rather jealous—how nice it must be to feel beautiful instead of tainted.
“It’s nice to see you, Autumn,” Winter says, her black eyes cold but welcoming. “You should visit the others more often. I’m sure they’d all like to talk to you… considering none of us know your name.”
Kyouka flinches. “My name is Kyouka,” she says softly. “And that’s a bad idea, Winter. I—”
“Momo,” Winter interjects. “Hello, Kyouka. I’m Momo. It’s nice to see you,” she repeats. “I think you’re long past introductions with the other two, though—Spring especially. You’ve never met her, because the Solsinox Gem doesn’t have to be passed to you from her, or be given to her from you. She’s the only one you can successfully evade,” Winter—Momo hums. She’s smart, Kyouka notes.
However, she has no intention of listening to the frosty deity’s advice. “I’ll think about it,” is all Kyouka says, before bursting into an explosion of colored leaves. Momo touches them, sighing, watching as the red, orange, and yellow leaves frost over as her fingers graze them. The border between Autumn and Winter has been crossed, and Momo has work to do.
Kyouka reappears at her home—a cave in a mountain filled to the brim with butterflies. They were the only mortal beings that wouldn’t wilt under her touch. The butterflies all flutter towards her, brushing her shoulders, her hair, and her favorite butterfly—a pink and blue one with black spots named Heartbeat—lands on the tip of her nose.
It’s familiar, it’s welcomed—and it brings a smile to her face. Now that the cursed pendant is gone from her skin, the death count feels smaller. She moves to stare at her hands, but grimaces when they look smooth. Perfect, moisturized and everything. Hands like Kyouka’s shouldn’t look like that. These are the hands of a killer—the hands of someone who has taken life so many times despite it being so simple to avoid in the first place. They shake, and the smile drips off of her face like water drips down the rocks and trees when it rains.
She’s back to how she usually is: wallowing in self-hatred—when she hears a screech come from the outside of her cave. She rushes to the entrance, poking her head so she can see everything in her general vicinity. Her eyes widen at the sight of a blonde girl face-first on the ground, groaning as if she’s just hurt herself.
“A-Are you alright?” Kyouka calls out. A smile appears on the girl’s face for a split second, before she stutters upwards and looks lost. “You know where you are, right?” She says. She really hopes she does, because Kyouka would hate to have to help and end up accidentally killing this girl.
“Yes, I’m fine, Autumn!”
That makes Kyouka’s golden blood run cold.
“If you know who I am,” she says lowly. “Why did you seek me out? I kill things just by being around them, you know.” She says. Kyouka’s tired. Tired of being sad, tired of being inadvertently responsible for deaths that aren’t even her fault. Except that they are—and if she was careful, maybe…
The girl interrupts her thoughts with a laugh. “You can’t hurt me, Autumn. You can’t kill a deity, after all,” the girl’s lips quirk into a smile. “Come on out, Autumn. Let’s be friends! I’m Toga,” the girl introduces. Her golden eyes are beckoning, and Kyouka can’t help but reach out to them. She tentatively exits the cave, Heartbeat fluttering behind her, and Toga stretches out her hand, eyes wide and curious.
Kyouka hesitates, before brushing her fingers against Toga’s, and feeling herself melt when the girl doesn’t pale and close her eyes as the life is sucked out of her. Her dark eyes meet Toga’s, and Toga’s impish smile puts all of Kyouka’s anxieties at ease, even if only for a little while.
The snow melted away, and the gem moved on to Spring’s hands. And then, as the days got longer and longer and the world got hotter and hotter, the gem moved to Summer’s. Now, as the harvest season steadily approaches, the gem was off to Kyouka’s. The border between Summer and Autumn was a lot hazier than the other borders, for the sole reason that Autumn was still pleasantly warm for the most part. It’s the day of her creation—the day Autumn was created.
Summer is beautiful—her skin is shaded a dark pink and her hair a few shades lighter. A long, yellow skirt pillows its way around her waist, and a tighter, red shirt that exposes her midriff is covered by a slightly transparent white shawl. The shimmering anklet pulses with seasonal energy, and it makes Kyouka’s entire body feel cold with dread. Summer slips the anklet off, and grins a bright, sunny, painful smile towards Kyouka. At least, she thinks it’s painful. It’s so bright, it makes Kyouka squint her eyes and look away.
“Here you go, Autumn,” Summer says. “We really should meet more. Momo told me that you said you were going to think about it,” Summer bites her lip. “Are you still thinking about it?”
Kyouka parts her lips, as if she’s about to speak, before closing them, and nodding silently. She takes the gem from Summer’s hands, and watches as it shimmers into a choker, black and tight; and the red gem of Solsinox glittering powerfully in her hands. With a sigh, she clips it around her neck, and tears well up when the surrounding vegetation around her dulls. Not completely, but enough that even Summer looks affected.
“I’m Mina, by the way,” Summer says quietly, reaching for Kyouka’s hand. A burst of life enters her when they touch, and it makes Kyouka gape. “I really do want to get to know you. I know you’re sad a lot—and that’s totally fine—but you should try to do something about it.”
All Kyouka can do is a murmur “I’m Kyouka,” before she explodes into the burst of red, orange, and yellow leaves. Mina reaches out to touch them, watching as they fade into green when she does.
Toga is the first thing Kyouka sees when she reappears in her Autumn Forest home. However, Kyouka is not the first thing Toga sees. Toga is speaking into a pool of water, and Kyouka freezes when she hears what is being said.
“—Yeah, yeah. Autumn is coming back with it right now! I’ll snatch it before I leave, okay? You don’t have to yell at me, Tomura!” Toga whines. The name makes Kyouka’s ichor run cold—Tomura? Tomura, the god of destruction and disease? Suddenly, the gold eyes and gold hair make sense: Toga Himiko. Himiko, the goddess of mischief and trickery, who tends to side with the dark side of things.
“...Toga?” Kyouka chokes out, eyes blown out and shaking. “I—”
Toga—no, Himiko turns to see Kyouka standing there, hand covering the choker where the gem pulses. Himiko’s eyes widen, and she rushes forward.
“Autumn, honey, how are you? You have the gem, right? How is—”
Kyouka’s voice shakes. “I-I put my faith in you, you know,” she manages. “I put my faith in you! So, much, faith!” her voice steadily rises. Himiko spent almost a year with her, just to try and snatch the gem. Was that really all Kyouka was good for? The gem is starting to feel hot, on her immortally soft skin. Kyouka can’t find it in herself to care, mind, or even feel it to make sure everything is okay. “And you—” Kyouka clenches her fist, shutting her eyes as tears falling down her face. “You just THREW IT AWAY!” She screams, hands moving to scratch at her face and voice a lot louder than she remembers.
The gem around her neck explodes with energy, a shockwave of Autumn powers echoing out for around five kilometers.
When Kyouka opens her eyes, wiping frantically at her tears, her eyes well up even more. Her entire Autumn forest—all the leaves were knocked off. The branches look gnarled, the earth dusty and gray. “Oh no,” Kyouka sobs. “Even here?” She bursts into leaves, leaving her dead forest and ex-friend behind.
Himiko doesn’t try to grab one of the leaves. Instead, she curses and kicks the dead dirt. Failure.
Uraraka Ochako has always been friends with the Sun and Moon. The Sun is a deity named Tooru, her skin too bright to properly be rendered by mortal eyes. To them, the Sun’s body is invisible, unable to be seen due to the lights of the star she is. However, to the other deities, Tooru looks just like them. Her skin is tinted orange, and her eyes are a hue of rainbow colors. She wears a white sundress, a crown of sunlight sitting on her short, brown hair. The Moon, however, is a quiet deity named Tsuyu. Her hair and eyes are both a dark green, and she’s much more withdrawn than Tooru is. She wears a plain white dress, one soft and radiant as her moonbeams. Her crown is gentle and strong at the same time, one built of stars from her friend, the constellation The Craftswoman.
The Sun and Moon are rather opposites, but they’re both Ochako’s friends.
“I saw something very sad today,” Tooru murmurs to Ochako, one day. Spring and the Sun were usually together, during the Night, just as Spring and the Moon were usually together during the Day. “Autumn’s heart was broken, I think.”
“Autumn?” Ochako echoes. She had always wanted to meet her fellow seasonal deity. But the passing of the Solsinox gem made it so that the two never had to meet obligatorily. From what Momo and Mina both told her, Autumn is sad and isolated, feeling personally responsible for the deaths of so many after the Beginning. It wasn’t her fault though—it is not her fault that the gods created her to kill. Tooru and Tsuyu were both created shortly after the Beginning as well, wouldn’t they sympathize?
That thought makes Ochako freeze.
Momo and Mina. Tooru and Tsuyu.
The thought makes Ochako feel a bit sad. Everyone else had a partner, a person—everyone except her.
Her and Autumn, her mind helpfully supplies. The flowers on her head wilt a little at the negative thoughts. “I see,” Ochako says to Tooru. She watches as the Moon dips below the horizon. Tooru’s eyes light up, and she smiles apologetically to Ochako as she bursts into an explosion of sunlight. The Sun begins to rise steadily, and Ochako smiles. She knows the brief seconds during dawn and dusk are the Sun and Moon’s favorite time of day.
Ochako herself bursts into petals of cherry blossoms, returning to her Spring Grove. She sits on a rock, toying with the dirt at her feet. Her home, under the stars and clouds, feels different, for some reason. The earth feels more fragile, as if Ochako hadn’t danced across it with her feet pricked with thorns long ago, blood seeping into the earth and strengthening the dirt and mud for all it was worth. A noise catches her ear, though—one that makes Ochako stop and listen harder.
It sounds like a sob.
She quickly stands up, spreading out her hearing. It is someone crying—someone crying and sobbing uncontrollably.
Ochako teleports again, the petals of the cherry blossoms piling at where her feet were. The crying is closer, and Ochako very carefully feels the dirt get drier as she inches closer. The sight before her shocks her into stillness. It’s a girl, one with short, chopped black hair. Her clothes are deceptively simple: a black robe that covers her body form head to toe. If Ochako didn’t know any better—she would think this girl was a reaper. But Ochako’s heard Katsuki’s complaints: the damn season that just cries and dresses up like me.
This is Autumn.
“Hey,” Ochako says calmly, softly. She feels as if she’s trying to calm a cornered stray.
Autumn flinches back, eyes blown out and red with tears. “It’s okay,” Ochako says. “I’m Spring. It’s nice to finally meet you.” She whispers, walking closer and closer very slowly. Autumn doesn’t try to stop her, doesn’t try to run away, just stares. Her hands are shaking, Ochako can tell even from where she stands. Autumn clenches her fists, inhales deeply, and lets out a despaired sob when the earth grays a little.
Oh, Ochako understands. This is what it looks like to bubble and boil in self-hatred. This is what it looks like to feel guilty for simply breathing.
Something bubbles inside of Ochako—something soft and warm. She leans down into the grayed dirt, and sprouts a flower, gentle and pink. It’s a rose, petals soft and stem thorny. Ochako gently pricks herself on the rose, feeling her skin break and gold blood pouring out of her index finger. She presses the ichor to the stem, and watches as the flower glows a soft green. With a kiss, the rose stops glowing and stays still in her hand. Autumn is still staring at her, eyes wide and teary.
“Here,” Ochako says, stretching out her arm. “This is for you.”
Autumn shakes her head violently. “I-I’s going to die,” she whimpers. “If I touch it, it’ll w-wither away!”
“No, it won’t,” Ochako soothes. “Trust me, Autumn—it’s not going to d—”
Autumn sobs at that. Her eyes well up again, and Ochako holds the rose out for her a little farther, waiting patiently for her to take it. Autumn stares at her, long and hard, tears trailing down and dripping off of her chin, before she tentatively moves. She brushes her fingers against the bottom stem, and flinches. When it doesn’t wilt, Autumn’s eyes well up even more. One last tear drips down her face, before she grabs the whole flower in awe and looks at Ochako with… Ochako’s not sure. Disbelief, and something else.
“I—” Autumn cuts herself off, smelling the rose. “Thank you,” she says hoarsely. Ochako gently walks closer, and reaches for Autumn’s hand. Autumn blink at her, before parting her lips into a smile. “I’m Kyouka,” she murmurs.
Ochako beams. “I’m Ochako.”