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Tengen shivers as he ducks into the dilapidated building to get out of the sudden torrential storm, apologies leaving his lips automatically. Usually, he would not have done this, seeking out shelter in an abandoned holy place in the middle of nowhere. He was not even sure if a god was still residing in this lot. He could be in more danger if another kind of entity has taken over this place instead, but all he can think about now is to first get out of the cold rain.
A bright flash of light and thunder crash outside and Tengen can feel the walls shake, the floorboards underneath his feet trembling. He sighs as he slides off his haori, squeezing water out of the thick material, wringing it dry before hanging it on the first chair he sees. Dust flies up in the air and Tengen sneezes.
“Fuck, sorry, sorry for sneezing, didn’t mean to swear.”
Perhaps he should look into the shrine a little more before making himself more comfortable. There was no point in getting settled in and then being chased away by any spirits that resided here, especially when he is technically intruding on their property. The shrine was basically one room, with only a few scant furniture pieces scattered around. He spots a candle by the main worship area and reaches into his pockets for his lighter. Maybe he could tidy up a little, considering that he did not have anything else to offer in return for the shelter.
Wiping away as much of the moisture he could off his lighter, Tengen steps forward and lights the candle. Dim light fills the room, and Tengen can finally see the room clearly. And he could see that this shrine… Should not have been abandoned in the first place, especially with a shrine dedicated to the Raijin .
A moth-eaten painting of the Thunder God hangs on the wall before him, a simple set-up of a shrine, a table with candles and old utensils meant for food offerings. There was no donation box, and Tengen thinks it might have been stolen, or maybe...
Why was a shrine of his in this place anyway? Sure, the people may not worship the old gods, as much as they would have in the past, but… Then again, this shrine is in the middle of a forest, a forest infested with the beasts that Tengen had come to hunt in the first place. Perhaps a hunter had built this shrine, for shelter and fair weather. But judging from the dust and the overall state of the shrine, whoever who maintained it previously would have been long gone.
Tengen squats and wipes away the dust on the ground in front of it, as best as he can. The Raijin who must have previously resided here would have been long gone, but there was no harm in offering a little prayer for some good weather, for the storm to let up soon. Maybe he could offer one of his gold bangles, after all, perhaps this Raijin likes shiny flamboyant things as he does. He tugs off his wrist bangle, placing it on the table before him. Tengen then kneels on the slightly cleaner floor, clasps his hands together, closes his eyes and prays.
“My name is Uzui Tengen. I offer this bangle up to you, Lord Raijin. Perhaps, if you can hear me, kindly grant this humble one’s wish. Lighten up your drums, and stop the rain if you would, kindly.”
...It’s been a few hundred years since I’ve heard a human’s prayer. Uzui Tengen, yes…? Keep your bangle, human, but instead, take me with you, and I will do so.
Tengen stills. This was not the first time he has heard one of the old gods speak to him. But this may be the first time he has heard one sound so… exhausted. Tengen opens his eyes and looks up at the tapestry again, and this time he feels it. The humming in the air, the ground and Tengen knows immediately. It may seem as though it was a mere request, but Tengen knows, Tengen knows that it was an order.
“How do I… How can I take you with me, the scroll?”
...You’ll take me with you? Behind the scroll, you’ll find a sword. Take it, take it with you, and you will be protected from the storm.
Tengen moves automatically, pushing the table away and going straight up to the scroll, pushing it away from the centre of the wall. And there it was, a remarkable-looking blade, complete with a white sheath with yellow-gold accents. He takes it in hand and flinches, sparks running up his arms.
… Go south; You’ll find your way out of the forest...
Tengen grunts in affirmation, jamming his bangle back on his wrist before moving to pick up his haori, which has surprisingly dried off in such a short time. He wraps the sword with the cloth carefully, and sure enough, when he steps out, the rain has lightened considerably, and Tengen can barely hear the storm anymore. He makes his way towards the south, traversing through the forest with almost ease.
Perhaps he was a fool tricked into stepping into the shrine by the god; after all, he did control the weather. Maybe he planned all of this to have Tengen take him out of this old place. Gods, though ethereal, were sometimes like humans after all, and they do get lonely, no matter what people think these days, especially with offerings running low and different faiths coming into the country. Tengen could not fault them for looking for other solutions, other things to believe in, but people like them made his job difficult.
The old gods were still the ones who held the foundation of the country, and without them, the cracks in the land have begun to show themselves.
It feels like waking up from a very long dream. A dream that first started, as usual, him in his little garden, sunflowers blooming right before his very eyes. But this time, the dream did not end like it usually did. He realised that he was not waking up, and he had been stuck in the dream, for a very very long time.
The flowers that once delighted him have long begun to wilt, and the dream, the garden soon faded, and all he could see was nothing. The void, the deep darkness, with only him. Just him.
He thinks that he stopped existing for a while, while he was in the void. Or at least, this version of him. He feels as if he had long lost touch with the humans that used to fawn over him. He liked it, being fawned over, given attention, being prayed to. He remembers vaguely, the offerings that he was once given, rows of food, delicious expensive food that kept him content.
The darkness around him was dense, and the air, or the lack of, was sluggish. It felt as though as he was floating and falling at the same time, wading through water. Have the other gods gone through this before? Was he the first to fall? Was… Was he forgotten by them as well, his brothers?
He imagined that he would have teared up, if he was back where he belonged, in the sky, the clouds and among the stars, moon, sun. He still thought that he felt it though, that lump in his throat, the choked up feeling that he got when his sinuses started acting up, when he just wants to cry. He thought for a moment, what were his brothers’ names and to muted horror, he realised he could not remember.
Is this what it feels like to be left abandoned, by the humans he ruled over, by the creatures he blessed? When a mortal dies, they go in peace, and their souls guided carefully to the right destinations. But when a god dies, is this how it is, a perpetual pit of non-existence, forgetting slowly, until the day they forget even themselves? Is this how life for them was supposed to end?
It was unfair that even the mortals had the opportunity to pray for salvation when salvation did not exist for their own gods.
He tried to hang on to his memories, the faces of his brothers and his name. He may forget their names, but he would not give in, not so soon, not yet even if it would be easier. But he could not break the promise that he made once to a Master, his Master who took him in before he had ascended to godhood.
Zenitsu, no matter, no matter what happens, Zenitsu, listen to me! You can run away, you can cry, but you must never give up!
And he did not give up, no matter how hard it was, feeling all these phantom feelings, his emotions all clogged up in this void of nothingness.
And when Zenitsu finally hears it, the sound of a human, in the forest (in his forest!), he thought finally. Perhaps this would be his salvation. Zenitsu reaches into his own heart, grasping for the remaining echoes of his powers and pushed.
And he hears a sneeze and an expletive, and Zenitsu wants to crylaughcelebrate. The first prayer he has heard in centuries, and he can almost feel the energy coming back to him. The lovely gold jewellery that he had offered up to him and Zenitsu can finally, finally hear his own voice pushing through the emptiness.
...My name is Uzui Tengen… lighten your drums…
The human’s voice is soft and fuzzy through the fog in his brain, but Zenitsu knows, this would be the last chance he would ever have.
“...Take me with you,” He whispers, his voice hoarse.