Chapter Text
Kira was a plague, the one once known as Izanami decided one dark day, as she tried to sort the souls of the innocent from the damned, as she kept demons at bay in their prisons, as she watched a child cry as her innocent father was killed for the simple fact he was framed by a rival.
His soul wailed as loudly as his child’s as she gentled his way to the afterlife he deserved.She shed a few tears herself, because despite her current form she was still a mother, The Mother.
But she was also Shinigami
She had brought life forth, and now she took her children into death.
And death did not release those she claimed lightly, not out of malice of course, but simply for the fact that all things had their time, and to try and change that would destroy the delicate balance of the universe.
But despite all her efforts, despite all her trials and agony, the delicate balance she had thought to maintain was undone, souls sent to her long before their time, unable to be sent back, restless and angry, weakening the barriers between life and death.
Beings of horror, trapped and hiding in the deepest pits of the universe, in the rotten gaps, were sneaking back out into the world.
Shinigami herself had felt the shudders of things truly evil awakening from their long sleeps, gaining more energy as they fed on the chaos, the hate, the malice.
It was her fault, as much as her children tried to tell her otherwise.
It was her fault that these Shinigami had managed to flee to Earth without her knowledge, her fault books were stolen, her fault these humans were dying. Her thought her children was spread to the four corners trying to prevent the universe from snapping in twain.
Her fault that these Shinigami had managed to bind themselves to humans.
And that was the kicker really, the ultimate stab in her gut.
The traitors in her ranks had bound themselves to humans, it was a human doing this, commiting these foul acts.
She couldn’t even begin to hunt down the little bastard, the ancient rules of Godly kind had forbidden. Kira's mortal soul, as black as it was by now, made the Shinigami hard to detect, made them immune from Godly Intervention as such from the time when Magic and Science were seperated.
And to think that a lowly bookkeeper had done this…
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When Izanami had died she hadn’t expected to come back.
She had been content, she had birthed her last child, her little Kagu-Tsuchi, her little light, and had passed on from a combination of the strain and the battle she had been forced to fight.
But she had been happy, because she had saved her child, had born him into the bright and wonderful world.
And then her husband killed him.
Rage over took her completely, changed something intrinsic within her, gave her the power to crawl from the young underworld where her soul had waitied in purgatory, detroying everything in her path.
It had exhausted her greatly, and she had fallen into a river just outside the underworlds entrance, sobbing from the agony of losing her child, from the betrayal of her husband, the one meant to portect him.
From her tear came her final children: passionate Susano’o, daring Tsukuyomi, and shining Amaterasu.
Children born from their mother’s transformation, her pain to joy, without need of their father.
Because Izami would never touch Izanami again, ans she would never bear another child from him, that she vowed in that cold river.
She cradled those babes in her arms as her old life washed away, and from that old life, from that death came creatures that would serve her with loyalty.
For Izanami had become Shinigami, and had brought true death into the world, and death came in many forms.
First there were the Keepers of time, those who were told of them lucky to die from old age.
There were the Plague givers, the Shinigami who were told those who would die from illness.
Then there were the Predictors, the ones who halted life before it began, who took those who had not taken breath or had hardly lived before dying.
There were the Tragic writes, the one who were told of those who would die of tragedy – by their own hand, by a natural disaster.
There were the Swords and Shields, who were told of those who would die in battle, who would die of sacrifice.
Then there were the Bookkeepers, those who were told who would die by accidents, from their own daring.
Human life was a gift, but humans were risk takers by nature, and they needed to be reminded that not all bets paid off.
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It was one night, when Shinigami found herself sitting under a Sakura tree by the river she had been reborn from, that they finally found the answers to their prayers.
She sat in silence, enjoying the breeze on her cheeks.
This was a place her children had agreed was only for her. Her treacherous bastard of an ex-husband had tried several times to meet her there, to draw her back to his side.
He had regretted each one.
Unsurprisingly he wasn’t bothering much with this Kira incident, content to sulk somewhere in the cosmos as the universe fell apart around him.
She shuddered in rage at the thought of her petty ex-spouse, the pathetic man.
However, before she could sink into sucj dark thoughts a shuffling noise drew her attention and Shinigami smiled as she watched the white kitsune works its way towards her.
It was pure white in colour, with glowing golden amber eyes, and as it wanderedc towards her its form shifted like a mirage, shifting in the wind until a handsome young man stood by her.
He still beheld the fox ears and seven tails of his previous form. But long white hair dangled to his hips, his handsome face held loving amber eyes, and their pupils slit as he stared up at the sun. sharp fangs poked out from lovely lips, his skin a deep golden shade from time in the sun. He stood tall, and muscled, each strong hand tipped with dangerous claws. He wore a Yakuta of fine white with golden embroidery depicting rice fields. A sword hung from his waist, fine and deadly.
This was one of the many forms of her child Inari Kami of Foxes, Fertility, rice, tea, Saki, agriculture, industry. General prosperity and worldly success. Patron of Sword Smiths, Blacksmiths and Merchants, protector of warriors, born like many of her other children from the death Kagu-Tuchi.
And by far one of her most mischevious children.
“This is not a typical form for you my darling Inari, have you just been visiting my darling Natsumi? How is she?” Shinigami asked her child eagerly, desperately wanting for some form of good news from her loving son.
Inari winced, dropping down beside his mother with a long drawn out sigh.
“Natsumi is actually the reason I’m here mama, she- she thinks she can help with the Kira situation, and she refuses to take no for an answer”
Shinigami froze.
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The children of Gods and Mortals were rare now a days.
Even the promiscuous Olympians had only had a few these past generations, the children of Shinto Gods and Mortals were even rarer, uncommon even in the days of old.
There was only one in this generation, the daughter of Inari and the heir of a family who had worshipped them since the first fields were ploughed.
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Hiroka Ishikawa was the Heir to the Ishikawa Family, a family of many talents.
IN the modern day they sold many things, delicate sharp knives, vibrant tasty produce, mouthwatering meats.
But they began as simple farmers, ploughing a single field of rice. But it was their Matriarch who put the on the path to greatness who had heard tale of the Kami Inari, and had dreamt that if her family would see any success they must make a place of worship to him.
The Shrine began as a small stone altar, delicately and carefully carved by her own hand. A beautiful clay fox sitting upon its top, covered by a stone enclave.
They left what they could, poor as they were at the time; the best rice from their harvest, sake when they could afford it, and the scant coin they could give.
But each day the shrine was cared for by the family, cleaned and talked to it.
Devoted themselves to it.
And soon the family harvest became more plentiful, and then they gained another field, and another, and another.
Then a son built a Smithery to make swords, and then a daughter learned the secrets of Sake, and another bought the first family cow and bred its children.
And then became now.
Their crops and animals fed half of Japan, their sake and knives coveted by all.
But such fame brought with it attention both positive and negative.
Hiroka drew much of this negative attention, the only daughter of her family and its heir she was confronted and pressured from outside forces seeking to gain her families holdings, who threatedned those she loved for the sake of gaining her families precious land and business.
So as many of her family members did, she went to the shrine for answers.
It had been expanded upon what it was, the original field laid fallow and turned into garden surrounding the much larger temple. Made of bright white stone and golden enamelling it wa beautiful and admired far and wide. But despite its more ostentacious outsides, the first shrine, the true shrine lay carefully protected within, the same little clay fox sitting in its stone cave carefully watched by its loyal worshippers.
Her uncle had staffed it at the time, and it would later fall to her cousin, but at that time it had been silent, her uncle visiting other relatives, her family all asleep.
She had lit the incense and prayed to the Kami her family had long respected and loved.
She parayed for a way to protect her family, for hope, for a child brave, and good, and kind.
And the Little fox on the shrine sighed beatifically, and giggled.
“Long I have hoped one of you would ask me for such a thing, and it is a blessing on my soul that Clever Hiroka would offer me such a gift.”
A man appeared that night, beautiful beyond measure, with white hair and golden eyes, and fox ears and tails.
A deal was struck that night between two beings who desperately wanted a child, and nine months later Natsumi Ishikawa was born to a delighted family.
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“No.” Shinigami said firmly, her voice distorted by anger and fright, becoming the many voices of a vengeful and firghtened dead.
“We have no choice, she’s the only half mortal child of our pantheon in Existence right now, all others are dead or have arisen; they can’t interfere. The situation is getting desperate and she lives in the area that L detective said Kira is in, She says we can either support her or she’ll do it herself, and I’ve been trying to talk her down for the past week. She can’t live knowing she could have helped and did nothing.” Inari said despairingly.
His daughter, as her mother had hoped, was born brave, and good, and kind.
And how could a woman with such a loving heart watch hundreds die around her and do nothing.
How could she watch the mortal world come apart at the seams, watch people live in fear, watch others become controlled by hate and madness and do nothing.
How could she watch the monsters come out from the dark, her family fight what felt like constant battles and do nothing.
“She is too good.” Shinigami said, a wail caught in her chest, despairing over the kindness born in her granddaughters heart and loving it all the same.
“She is everything I could have hoped and wished for.” Inari replied a sad bitter smile on their lips.
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Inari hadn’t stayed away for any part of the pregnancy.
It had shocked the Ishikawa family, their most ardent of worshippers, to watch the Kami walk around their family home, presiding themselves as the father of the new heir to the family.
It had taken all but a few days for the family to treat them as one of their own.
They delighted over Inari, their gratitude for his many blessings grew tenfold for the gift they had given their family.
The gift they had given Hiroka.
Hiroka was glowing even scant days after their coupling, content in the knowledge that she had gained the child she had long desired without falling to the insolent men who had tried to threaten her into their arms.
Inari was no Kami in this house, their soul devoted to Hiroka Ishikawa as it had been to every mother or father of their children.
When Hiroka was first confronted by those grasping mortals they acted as her lover, her husband.
Their business would suffer, but the one who threated in anger to kill her would lose everything by the time Inari’s daughter took her first breath.
When Hiroka first showed the signs of morning sickness they brought her potions and herbs to soothe her, delicate and light fruits and breads to feed her.
When her belly began to swell he brought her clothes of a soft material, that kept her from chill or heat, that was softer than Vicuna and finer than silk.
They rubbed her sore ankles, soothed her hormones, made sure that every need, craving, want was fulfilled.
Because Inari loved Hiroka, not as a lover, but more than that, for she was giving them a gift greater than all the stars in the sky.
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It was in the early day of March 3rd that Inari’s daughter was born.
Inari had been sleeping in Hiroka’s room for near a month, conscious and fearful of the idea they would miss their child’s birth. The sun was just starting to set over the horizon when Inari heard Hiroka’s sharp gasp of pain.
The labour had begun.
The beginning was slow but they were ready in the birthing room before her water even broke. Inari had warned the Ishikawa of the strong possibility of the child being born with strange features and they had risen to the occasion.
A cousin trained in maternity was brought it, equipment bought, a special room was made up within the family home, all waiting for this exact moment.
Natsumi Ishikawa was born at dawn, after several hours of hard labour. Inari stayed by Hiroka the entire time, all too familiar with the pain of birth, and watched as their daughter took their first breath.
Inari smiled as tears dripped down their face, studying the small squalling baby as it lay against her mothers chest.
A babe clearly not human, but adored beyond measure.
From her pitch night hair, where mortal ears should be, were instead two fine silky black fox ears. Even her blanket had to be carefully wrapped so as not to crush the small fox tail that emerged from the base of her spine.
Showing more of her divine heritage a streak of white sat in her dark hair, just over her right eye, and her ears and tail were tipped with white.
That would have to be changed soon, but for now the two parents contentedly watched their daughter, and when she finally opened her eyes Inari found their own amber gold staring back at them.
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Inari and Shinigami remained in silence for a while before the ancient Kami let out a sigh.
“She will be immune from the writings of Kira, like all her siblings and cousins have been. Their divinity had always meant that only you were told their fate, only you could decide it.” Inari pressed reassuringly, repeating the words of their daughters argument.
“She has been trained by I and her mother, she can wield a sword, she is brave mother, and she loves you enough to want to do this. But she needs our support, and only you can give her the one thing she needs to truly win this fight for us. Plus you know she can never bare to disappoint you.”
Shinigami sniffed, and the Kami remained silent for what felt like and age. Then her eyes turned to Inari once more, a flare of red in the beautiful silver of her eyes.
“I will give her my gift and my blessing, and I will live with the assurance she will destroy this monster, because if she dies…” Shinigami hissed, the shadows stretching around her and silver eyes turning red.
“The I will make sure that the rivers of Earth bleed red with blood of Kira and his supporters, and even in death they will not be safe from my rage.”
Inari smiled, clapping their hands together sharply.
“Glad to have you on board.” Inari said cheerfully, a glint of steel in their eyes.
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In the streets of Tokyo a young woman rushed back to her apartment.
She stood tall at around 5’10 dressed simply in a pink jumper and black jeans. Her black flats slapped against the ground, only kept in place by the bands attaching them to her ankle. Her tanned golden skin shone in the dimming sunlight, contrasting sharply with the golden amber of her eyes. Her black hair had been thrown into a messy bun in her haste, the white steak bright against the dark strands.
He pelted through the crowds despite her exhaustion, the message she had received forcing her on. Muscled legs pumping as she pushed herself on.
Soon enough she reached the complex that housed her families apartment, or at least the one they had bought to house their children as they attended university, and she quickly typed in her code and slammed though the open door.
Deeming the elevator too slow she bolted up the three flights of stairs to her apartment, a sheen of sweat coating her brow.
‘Thank the Kami I didn’t put on any makeup!” She thought with amusement, feeling the sweat run down the side of her face.
The door of her apartment came before her and she cheered out loud, no doubt drawing the attention of her neighbours, and quickly pulled her keys from her pockets.
Opening the door she quickly pushed her way inside, and the sensation of her stomach falling hit her like a truck.
And Natsumi Ishikawa found herself not in her family apartment, but on an island surrounded by stars.