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Arahabaki. Once hailed as a powerful war kami who guarded its followers from disease and calamity. However, by 300 AD Arahabaki had transformed from a protector of calamity to the embodiment of calamity. While historic texts cite Prince Nagasunehiko as the source of this shift, another legend predates Nagasunehiko: The Arahabaki Bride. 

The legend goes thus: Arahabaki was a serene kami who only revealed in its ferociousness during battle. Then it met its bride: a human dressed in flowing white silk. Arahabaki’s bride enthralled the kami, but at the same time was the only being capable of truly angering Arahabaki. 

Wherever Arahabaki’s bride travelled, Arahabaki followed. But Arahabaki’s bride could only birth misfortune, and everywhere the couple went, Arahabaki’s bride brought calamity with them. While Arahabaki loved its bride, the anguish that followed its bride filled the kami with hatred. 

When Arahabaki’s bride perished, the kami swallowed all of its beloved’s misfortune. But Arahabaki underestimated its bride’s misfortune. The misfortune warped the kami until Arahabaki became one with the misfortune and a kami of calamity. 

Still mourning the death of its bride and ashamed of the misfortune it now embodied, Arahabaki went to sleep. 

Some versions say that Arahabaki would awaken to cause catastrophic events. Other versions claim that the calamities that have befallen us are merely Arahabaki rolling in its sleep and that humans should pray the kami never wakes.

But my personal favourite: Arahabaki awakens whenever its bride is reborn, reclaiming all the misfortune that Arahabaki had stolen. The two would begin their courtship again, causing calamity, until the bride dies, forcing Arahabaki to swallow the misfortune once again. And Arahabaki returns to its slumber, waiting for his bride to return once more. 

Chuuya liked his shrine. A small, dilapidated building that barely kept the rain out and failed miserably as a ward against the winter’s cold. The shrine was located up a mostly uninhabited mountain. The only path to the shrine was a set of deer tracks that cowered under the underbrush of the forested mountain side. 

But Chuuya liked that about his shrine. While he could easily fix the shrine to protect himself from the elements, he liked challenging his fellow kami when then swept through his home. And he loved how challenging it was to find his place of worship. The only people Chuuya’d even consider blessing were those who’d managed to persevere through the misinformation and wilderness to find his shrine. 

The only problem he could find with his shrine was one not easily fixed: Chuuya was lonely hidden away all by his lonesome. 

Or at least that had been a problem before he found a young human child floating down the stream that ran past his shrine. 

Chuuya, feeling benevolent, plucked the human child from the river. He had expected the child to believe the currents had carried him to safety. The child should have coughed the water that Chuuya pushed out of its lungs with a flick of his finger, and believed it to be done at its own volition. The human child should have then wandered back into the forest, probably following the river back upstream. 

Instead, the human child stared directly at Chuuya as it coughed. Even when it rolled onto its hands and feet as its mouth continued to expel the water, its gaze never wavered from Chuuya’s location. Even as Chuuya moved from his place, the eyes followed. 

“You can see me?” Chuuya asked, even knowing that the human child wouldn’t be able to hear him. He’d heard that some spiritually sensitive human children could see ghostly figures of the kami, but he’d never experienced it before. 

Of course, the child decided to surprise Chuuya once more when it nodded.

“You can hear me?” Chuuya asked, this time actually aiming the question at the child. 

The child nodded once more. 

Chuuya let his gaze float up to the sky as he let out a chuckle. He’d never even heard of a child who could not only see kami but also hear them. With mirth still painting his lips, Chuuya approached the human child. “Here, kid, let's fix you up.”

Chuuya would spend the rest of the day with the quiet child. First, patching up the bloody patches that coloured the white fabric draped around the child’s entire body (And was that a new fashion the humans had concocted? Chuuya wasn’t sure). Second, nourishing the child with water from the stream and an assortment of fruit that grew around the shrine (because if Chuuya remembered correctly, humans required nourishment to survive). And finally, escorting the child up the river in search of its parents. 

During the endeavour, Chuuya would learn that the child lived just up the stream at the much larger and more pristine (not to mention easier to access) shrine belonging to Nougami, Odasaku, the agriculture kami of this region. There he’d learn that the child was the ward of Odasaku himself and the child’s name:

Dazai Osamu. 

If Chuuya had thought that returning Dazai home would be the last he’d see of the human, he was very, very wrong. The boy (because Dazai was apparently male, and wasn’t that an odd revelation. He hadn’t even known that humans had more than 1 gender.) would continuously wander (or float down the stream. The stream option was actually much more common) from Odasaku’s shrine to visit Chuuya. 

Well, ‘visit’ would be putting it mildly. While Chuuya could have mistaken the boy for mute during their first encounter, after Odasaku introduced Chuuya to the young boy, Chuuya learned that Dazai almost never shut up. He’d float down the river to Chuuya’s shrine and made a real ruckus of himself as he whined about something or other. He seemed to love pestering Chuuya and questioning or insulting every statement that Chuuya made. 

But as much as Dazai irritated Chuuya, he couldn’t help but enjoy the young boy’s company. Dazai was clever and could even occasionally make Chuuya laugh. Plus, as the seasons passed him, Dazai learned to read Chuuya better and better, until Dazai wasn’t nearly as irritating as he used to be (at least not unintentionally). 

And how odd, that the passing seasons never made Dazai appear more akin to the men Chuuya was used to seeing (After learning that humans had multiple genders, he’d learned that his shrine was visited exclusively by men.). Even verging on what Odasaku claimed was Dazai’s adulthood, the human was still painfully slim and had continued to wear draping cloth that hid his figure.

And even as Dazai grew and changed, his ability to see the kami and yokai of the world never faded. Chuuya wasn’t sure if it was due to a trait he’d inherited at birth, exposure to kami, or plain stubbornness on Dazai’s part not to forget his only companions. Either way, Chuuya was glad to still be able to interact with Dazai even when he was full grown. He’d have missed the annoying brat. 

(No he wasn’t actually fond of Dazai. Shut up! Although secretly Chuuya would admit to himself on nights when the moon never appeared that he found Dazai, once fully grown, almost ethereal in his cloth that would blow in the wind.)

Chuuya had grown content with the routine he’d fallen into with Dazai. Which was why he was so surprised when Dazai approached Chuuya with a proposition.

“You want me to do what!?” Chuuya practically screamed when Dazai outlined his idea. 

Dazai, infuriatingly, just smirked as he reclined further into the tree he’d rested his weight on. Condescendingly, he said, “I don’t want you to do anything, Chuuya. But Odasaku thinks I need someone to protect me.” 

“You- You want me to leave my shrine!” Chuuya continued to scream, paying Dazai’s new words no mind. “And for what? A journey? What do you need to travel for?!” 

“It’s not a journey,” Dazai scoffed. And could Chuuya take a moment to appreciate how delicate Dazai’s eyelashes splayed out on his skin as Dazai blinked? No? Fine. Dazai just looked ridiculous when he crossed his arms and pouted like a 5 year old. “It’s a pilgrimage!” 

“And why do you need to go on a pilgrimage?” Chuuya crossed his arms (like a respectable kami, not in an imitation of a little kid like Dazai had done) and blanked his face.

Dazai shrugged. “Odasaku wants me to visit other shrines. He thinks I need to interact with my own species.” 

And that made sense. Humans were supposed to be social creatures, no? From what he’d seen, humans were happiest amongst their own kind where they created large families and worked together. Although, he’d also seen humans kill and torment other humans so what did he know. 

But the question still remained. 

“Why do you need me to accompany you?” 

“What? Does Chuuya not want to spend time with me? I’m hurt!” Dazai exclaimed as tears filled his eyes and trickled down his cheeks. Chuuya had to mentally hit himself and remind himself that Dazai was capable of crying on command. These tears were fakes. A prop for Dazai to use. “It’s not like anyone visits Chuuya’s shrine anyways.”

After grinding his teeth together to calm himself, Chuuya replied, “My shrine would actually have worshippers if it weren’t for you. So you can go and die for all I care.”

“Chuuya!” Dazai was whining now, all traces of tears gone from his eyes. “It’s not my fault they couldn’t find your shrine!”

“Oh really?” Chuuya allowed himself an amused snort, “So you never tricked an unsuspecting traveller into venturing back the way they came, or confusing them until they were wandering the forest aimlessly.”

“Nope!” Dazai was quick to agree, a mischievous smile dancing across his face and into his eyes. 

Chuuya rolled his eyes before returning to the original topic, “You never told me why you wanted me to accompany you on your ‘pilgrimage’.” 

“Does it matter?” Dazai asked before pressing once more, “Are you joining me or not?” 

“Fine, fine,” Chuuya relented, waving his hands in defeat, “I’ll come. But only to make sure no one mistakes you for a yokai and decapitates you.” 

“Chuuya!” Dazai squealed, “I had no idea you liked me that much!” 

“Huh?” Chuuya raised his voice as irritation pierced through his body once more, “Who said anything about me liking you!?” 

And the rest of the day devolved into Dazai taunting Chuuya as he screeched at Dazai and chased the human around his shrine. 

That evening Chuuya spoke with Odasaku and learned the real reason he’d been asked to accompany Dazai. Odasaku was worried about the forming clans and worried that a young man would attract too much attention. Odasaku wanted Dazai to be safe and no one could protect Dazai more than an actual kami of war. 

(“Also,” Odasaku continued in his calm manner, “Dazai’s been a good influence on you Chuuya.”

“How so?” Chuuya would think he was still very much the same kami he’d been before Dazai.

Odasaku strolled towards Chuuya to pat him on the head. Still in that calm voice, Odasaku told him, “You used to be cold to everyone around you. Chuuya, I don’t think you realise, before Dazai the only time I’ve ever seen you smile is when you’re fighting something.” 

Chuuya opened his mouth to argue, but Odasaku shot him a knowing smile and Chuuya all Chuuya could retort was: “I don’t smile around Dazai.”

Odasaku’s smile only grew larger as if he was amused by what Chuuya had said.)

It took 3 weeks of travel before they found any signs of human civilization. 

For weeks they wandered the brightly coloured forest that sprinkled Dazai in reds, oranges, and yellows that stuck to his white coverings and entangled themselves in his brown hair. The only sounds other than Dazai and Chuuya’s running commentary were the flapping of migrating birds and scurrying squirrels along with the more elusive whisperings of yokai. 

However, after 3 weeks of foraging for food (Dazai was scarily good at unearthing Akebi, and fuji apples.) and hunting down animals (Chuuya’s role. Dazai couldn’t sneak up on an animal to save his life. Not that Chuuya needed to eat, but Odasaku had insisted he keep Dazai on a well rounded diet.) they finally pulled out of the densely forested area to find a wide expanse of rice paddy fields. 

Dazai strolled over to inspect the rice, and Chuuya obediently followed. He had no experience seeing actual fields of rice before. He’d seen rice growing wild alongside rivers and had been offered harvested rice from followers seeking his blessing, but he’d never seen rice growing in such an abundance. 

“It’s just about ready to harvest.” Dazai commented from where he cradled the head of a rice plant. His keen eyes scrutinized the rice for a moment more before releasing the rice from his grip. It swung gently, the head of the rice drooping down. 

Chuuya tilted his head as he inspected the rice. Each plant was weighed down by the head. And the rice tips were a nice golden colour. While Chuuya knew that rice turned golden during the fall, and was always golden when he’d received grown rice, was that the only indication of harvest? 

From the corner of his eye, Chuuya noticed Dazai watching him. A lazy grin pulled across the human’s face before he reached out for a piece of rice in front of Chuuya. With that movement, their proximity increased to the point that Chuuya could almost feel the heat radiating from Dazai’s body. 

“Check the grains,” Dazai murmured, his voice practically in Chuuya’s ear, “When squeezed they offer resistance.”

To prove his point, Dazai pressed the rice tip he was holding into Chuuya’s hand. He wrapped his hand around Chuuya’s and closed his hand. Chuuya’s hand was closed into a fist and he felt Dazai’s fingers press into his hand as Dazai tightened his grip around Chuuya’s hand. Dazai’s thumb stroked Chuuya’s in an almost calming manner. 

“And look at the stalk,” Dazai’s voice breathed right into Chuuya’s ear, “See how far the beautiful golden colour has travelled down the stalk? Just imagine who else would look amazing wrapped in that gold.” 

“What are you saying?!” Chuuya snatched his hand from Dazai’s grip and in the same motion stepped away from Dazai so his face was hidden by his back.

“What?” Dazai croned, but when Chuuya glanced back Dazai was no longer gazing at him. Instead Dazai was inspecting the rice tip that had just been pressed into Chuuya’s hand. “Wasn’t Chuuya curious as to how I knew the rice was ready to harvest?” 

“N-no,” Chuuya definitely didn’t stutter. And his face was definitely not a brilliant red that matched the fallen leaves that had entangled themselves in Dazai’s hair. 

“Hmm,” Dazai hummed before switching topics, “I think I’ve found tonight’s dinner!”

“Yeah? What?” Chuuya tried to return his tone to a bored, casual tone.

“Look!” Dazai cupped his hands around something before pushing them into Chuuya’s face. He peeled his hands apart to reveal a greenish insect with large hind legs. The insect tried to jump out of Dazai’s grip, but Dazai closed his hands just before it had accumulated enough height to escape Dazai’s hands.

The name came to Chuuya the next moment: rice grasshoppers. 

The next day they were ambushed by the locals. 

Dazai had been prancing around the rice paddies as Chuuya watched his fond exasperation when Chuuya felt a current run through his body. Immediately he was on guard. Something bad was about to happen, but he didn’t know what. He had to be ready for anything. He’d made a promise to Odasaku to protect Dazai and he didn’t want to break that promise. (Not to mention, Chuuya couldn’t imagine something bad happening to Dazai. It just wasn’t allowed!)

Dazai, noticing Chuuya’s shift in mood, opened his mouth, curiosity dancing in his rich brown eyes, when a hand sprung from the rice behind him and wrapped around his opened mouth. Another arm followed the first in quick succession to immobilize Dazai by snaking around his abdomen and entangling the hand around Dazai’s throat. From there a shabby man clothed in a dirt stained hakama pulled himself through the rice veil. Another two men materialized behind the first, both armed with iron nata. 

“Who’re you?” The first man hissed into Dazai’s ear, “A spy for the Akugata clan?” 

The man lessened his clamp on Dazai’s mouth to allow Dazai to say, “I’m not a part of any clan.”

“Liar!” The man yelled. Chuuya saw Dazai wince as the man tightened his grip around Dazai’s body. The hand previously wrapped around Dazai’s throat shot out to snatch an iron nata from his buddy and the edge of the blade was pressed against Dazai’s neck.

Chuuya didn’t even bother to hide the snarl that forced its way through his throat. HOW DARE THEY! DOW DARE THEY ATTACK DAZAI! DAZAI WAS HIS!

The rice plants began to swirl, creating a circular vortex around him. The swishing of rice began a baseline beat that was overlaid with the melody of shrieking insects and smaller rodents. The crescendo was the frightened cries from the men who dared to target Dazai. 

These were the only outward signs the human world could see of Chuuya’s anger.

At the centre of the whirlwind, if you could see past the swirling fall leaves and the preconception of human sight, was Chuuya. But at this moment, Chuuya was not the benevolent hero. Instead he was the monster, calamity itself. For anyone with the power to prevent a calamity holds the power to be a calamity themself. 

No other word could describe Chuuya but monster. A brilliant red lit up his skin, accented with deep black gouges that burrowed themselves into his skin. They raced down from his face to extend his fingers into knife-like claws and continued onward to extend his hands to be proportional to his feet. 

This was the true form of the god Arahabaki. 

The wind swept past Dazai, blowing his hair and silk fabric, obscuring him and his attacker. However, when the wind did successfully push back the fabric so Chuuya could see Dazai’s face, the other man simply stared back at him with amusement. There was no fear, nor disgust. With a slight cock of Dazai’s head, towards the nata, Chuuya could see the excitement running through his eyes. 

“Calm yourself,” Dazai said to the world, his voice even. 

And Chuuya, Chuuya didn’t want to listen. He wanted to rage. He desired blood. The blood of those who believed they could hold Dazai. But Dazai held Chuuya’s gaze even as the wind blew a veil of silk between their eyes. Calm down Chuuya ! Dazai’s eyes screamed. 

Finally, Chuuya conceded defeat. He blinked once and the world righted itself. In return, Dazai smiled, and for that smile Chuuya would do a lot more than simply blanket the world in unease. 

“Wha- What the hell was that!” One of the men threatening Dazai cried out.

“You- You know something about it don’t cha?” Another one added, jabbing a finger in Dazai’s direction. 

“Me?” Dazai’s genuine smile morphed into a smirk, “It’s so flattering that you think I could control the wind.”

“Don’t play dumb!” The man to Dazai’s right screamed, pulling out his nata, “Before the wind stopped, you said something to it! What did you do?!” 

“I did nothing.” Dazai stressed, “Like I said before, I don’t have any great powers. But I do know something you don’t!”

“What?” The man still clutching Dazai hissed. The man’s hold was practically strangling Dazai now. 

“We’re not alone!” Dazai sang out. Dazai took a moment to flick his eyes away from Chuuya. 

That caused the three men to fan out. The two men not strangling Dazai paced out in a diagonal to Dazai, but away from Chuuya. Even the man with a hold on Dazai swung the two of them around so that they were facing the empty rice field. The man holding Dazai pressed his nata deeper into Dazai’s throat. A single drop of blood painted the fabric wrapped around Dazai’s neck as it traced a path to Dazai’s collar bone. 

“Come out or I’ll ram this nata through your friends head!” The man clutching Dazai threatened. Although it wasn’t very threatening when he screamed at a rice field. 

Dazai giggled.

“Why you!” The man to Dazai’s right screamed as he swung around, his nata raised above his head. With full force, he swung the blade down to hit

Nothing. 

Dazai’s laughter intensified and even Chuuya let out a chuckle as the man’s eyes widened. To him, his blade appeared to pause just above Dazai’s head, and no matter how hard he pressed down, the blade refused to budge. Even when the man snapped the blade up again before letting it fall back towards Dazai’s head, the blade stopped at the exact same place. 

“Ho-how are you doing this!” The man screamed as he continued to hack at the same spot.

“I told you,” Dazai sang once more, “I’m not alone!”

Chuuya took that as his cue to squeeze down on the nata he’d stopped until it crumpled under his force and continued to crush itself until all that remained was a fine dust of iron shavings. With his other hand, he pulled the nata pressed into Dazai’s throat, to his hand and then flung it towards the man in front of Dazai.

The blade hit the man’s neck with enough force that it pierced through his throat and escaped from the nape of his neck. 

The nata then redirected itself in mid air to slam into the third man’s abdomen. He fell to the ground, clinging to both life and his profusely bleeding wound. 

Finally, Chuuya turned to the man who’d held the nata to Dazai’s throat. The man had released his hold on Dazai and was scrambling backwards. His hands waved in front of his body, as if warding off a fly. Incoherent mutterings jumbled together as he tripped over the words he was trying to say. 

Chuuya just grinned. With a slow even pace, he prowled towards the last man, the man he hated most. A tap to the man’s right arm, the arm that had held the nata, and his arm fractured in tiny pieces. Chuuya pressed his foot into the other man’s and felt vicious pleasure as his howling laughter overpowered the man’s screams as Chuuya snapped one toe after another. 

Chuuya’s other foot kicked the man to the ground and stepped onto the man’s body. All at once, the man was caving under his own weight. His screams turned to a single note tune as his jaw was suddenly too heavy for his muscles to move. His flailing stopped as his arms created crevices in the ground. 

“Die under your own body weight, you flea soaked dirt bag,” Chuuya muttered. With one last stomp to the man’s chest, Chuuya flew to Dazai’s side. 

Chuuya tilted Dazai’s head back to inspect the cut on his throat. To Chuuya’s relief, it was simply a slight knick. Chuuya plucked some of the cloth draping off Dazai’s arms to wrap around the wound as he pressed, “Are you okay?” 

“Chuuya is such a worrier,” Dazai commented as he flipped his head back down to smile at Chuuya, “So much power, and all to protect me!? You must really love me!”

“Wah! Of course not!” Chuuya denied, “Odasaku told me to protect you. I don’t want to have to tell him you let yourself be killed by a couple of farmers. He’d probably cause a famine. It’s my duty to prevent such a calamity!” 

Dazai just hummed as he extracted himself from Chuuya’s grip, “Chuuya’s such a liar!”

“I am not!” Chuuya insisted, but Dazai just continued to walk down the path created by the various rice paddies. Chuuya chased after him crying out, “Oi! What are you saying, fishy Dazai!” 

Because of course Chuuya couldn’t love Dazai, right? His sister had always told him that to love a mortal being was to court one's own destruction. 

After the encounter with the local clan, Chuuya was all in favour of sprinting off to another area, but Dazai marched right up to the central village. 

The village was alive with people. Men and women were coercing children to help hang the freshly cut rice and stripe the already dried rice plants. Some of the rice stalks were stored away for the winter and other plucked rice were crushed into a fine flour. Many of the children resisted the words of their parents to run through the crowd of adults and generate mayhem. But despite the disruption that the children brought, the adults had fallen into a rhythm that spoke of years of work. 

The chaos of the village halted when Dazai and Chuuya meandered into town. From all parts of town the villagers stared at Dazai as he strolled to a central area and paused in the centre. After a period of silence, Chuuya heard murmurs all around them. Other villagers entered the clearing and surrounded Dazai while still leaving a distinct gap between Dazai and the village. They stared and pointed and muttered amongst themselves. All their anger and confusion aimed at Dazai. 

And Dazai was quite a sight. Still wrapped in his white silk that Chuuya could now clearly see wasn’t a common fashion. Villagers were dressed in well fit hakama and kimono while Dazai appeared to have wrapped himself in unsewn fabric and declared in an outfit. 

More than that, splotches of red still stained the silk from the encounter earlier that day. 

“My, my,” Dazai commented, seemingly unfazed by the crowd as he swung his head around taking in the view, “What an event I’ve created!”

The villagers parted for a gruff faced elderly man in a more elaborate kimono than the other villagers. He walked until he’d exited the crowd of people and was facing Dazai. “What are you doing here, outsider?”

“What? You don’t accept travellers?” Dazai over exaggerated a frown as he pretended to wipe a tear from his left eye. 

The elder jerked his head to the side, “What clan are you from, kid?” 

“No clan,” Dazai answered, his gaze firm as he stared into the elder’s eyes. Chuuya flipped his eyes between the two and observed the staring contest the two engaged in. 

The elder looked away first. With another jerk of his head, in the opposite direction, he swung his thumb over his shoulder. “Get out.”

“Aw, really? But I came all this way to deliver a message to you!” Dazai whined, his head bent low.

From his position (not because of his height, damn it!) Chuuya saw the amusement flicker in Dazai’s eyes as the elder along with the villagers in earshot gasped. He idly observed some men and women on the skirts of the clearing disappear further into the village. While he could feel a slight shiver at his fingertips, Dazai appeared confident. 

The elder stormed forward and demanded, “What message? And from who?!” 

“Why I have a message from Arahabaki, of course!” Dazai sang. 

And what? Chuuya was standing right there. He didn’t have anything to say to these people except maybe a warning to keep their hands off Dazai. What could Dazai possibly be planning?

“No you don’t.” Chuuya spat out, but Dazai ignored him. 

The elder, on the other hand, was visibly shaken. His voice no longer accusatory, but instead tinged in fear he asked, “You- are you Arahabaki’s miko?”

Whispers waved through the villagers at the elder’s words. 

Chuuya expected Dazai to deny the elder’s words. While Dazai could interact with all the kami, Dazai was in no way indebted to Chuuya. If anything, Dazai was Odasaku’s miko. Odasaku had raised Dazai and anything Dazai said could probably have some roots in Odasaku’s teaching. 

But instead, Dazai practically glowed as he smiled and chirped, “That’s right!” 

What!?

“No you’re not, you river log!” Chuuya called out but his words were overwritten by the elder.

“Then what, what does Arahabaki want to tell us?” 

“Easy!” Dazai replied, “This village is about to face terrible calamity. Your crops with waste away and war with the Akugata clan approaches. But some of it can be prevented if every villager bows down and offers their undying loyalty to Arahabki, some of this terror can be avoided!”

The elder burst out laughing the moment Dazai finished his sentence. Around them, wisps of laughter engulfed the other villagers. The elder broke from his laughter to bark out, “You liar! Our village is more stable now than it has ever been. Take your false prophecies elsewhere, you scheming kitsune!” 

“Aw well,” Dazai shrugged as he twirled on his heels to retreat back the way he’d come, “I tried.” 

Chuuya trailed behind Dazai as the villagers parted once more for the silk clothed man. For once, Dazai walked in silence, not commenting on the people around him or the scenery. Chuuya actually wondered if Dazai was upset. Had he actually thought the villagers would react in any other way? Especially to such a ridiculous notion?

And yet, as they walked away, the insignificant tingle in Chuuya’s hands exploded until even his head buzzed like he’d partaken in large amounts of sake. 

The irritation was so bad that Chuuya didn’t notice the two men blocking the exit to the village, each armed with a nata almost identical to the ones the men Chuuya had killed earlier that morning had. 

“Hey, trickster,” The man to the right jeered, “That cloth you’re wearing looks expensive. Give it here.”

Dazai blinked, and the blank face he’d worn just moments before morphed into acted fear. “Oh my, what ever shall I do? I couldn’t possibly disrobe in front of all these people!”

“Shut it!” The same man snapped, “Toss those clothes here or else.”

“Or else what?” The imitated terror vanished from Dazai’s face to reveal a veil of curiosity with Dazai’s head cocked slightly to one side and his eyebrows scrunched together. 

“Or I’ll kill you and rip them off your corpse!” The man screamed. 

“No,” Dazai informed the man. He began walking once more towards the two men barricade. 

“Whaddya mean no?!” The man screamed, waving his nata back and forth, “I’ll actually do it!” 

“You can’t,” Dazai asserted, still walking forward. 

The man’s eyes widened as Dazai continued into the man’s personal space. With a cry, the man jabbed his nata towards Dazai. 

Chuuya’s eyes glared and the nata flew backwards, inciting a scream from the man. The man to the left, seeing his buddy’s nata fly away, was dumb enough to still think that swinging his nata at Dazai would be a terrific idea. Chuuya jumped to Dazai’s left side and the moment the nata hit his skin gravity pulled it to the ground along with the man. With his keen hearing, Chuuya knew that the weight of the nata had dislocated the man’s arm. 

But Chuuya didn’t pursue the men further. He yanked on Dazai’s arm and hissed in the brown haired man’s ear, “We need to talk.” 

He dragged Dazai away with Dazai’s heels drawing lines in the dirt. From behind him he felt Dazai raise his hand and heard the other man call out, “I can’t play any longer! Arahabaki has another divine revelation to impart on me!” 

Once the village disappeared into a single point on the horizon, Chuuya released Dazai from his grasp. Dazai, however, didn’t even try to support himself on his own and instead flopped to the ground like the beached fish he was. The only futile attempt at righting himself was a limp hand flopping to the ground just beside Chuuya’s foot. 

Chuuya pivoted on his feet and kneeled down in front of Dazai’s head before he interrogated Dazai, “What was that you liar? Was anything you said there real?” 

“I wasn’t lying,” Dazai whined, looking especially pathetic as he arched his neck so that his eyes could peer at Chuuya, “That village will face a food shortage and most likely go to war with the Akugata clan. You’re an anti calamity god. Surely you knew something was going to happen to that village.”

“Of course I knew they were approaching a terrible calamity,” Chuuya brushed aside Dazai’s claims to continue to inquire, “But you told them a famine was approaching, and that they’d go to war. I didn’t tell you that. How did you know?”

“The famine was easy,” Dazai told him, “And the war was conjecture.” 

“What part of predicting a famine is easy!” Chuuya raged, kicking Dazai lightly in the side, “They had bountiful bunches of rice. No wonder they laughed at you.” 

“With these,” Dazai held up the hand that originally stretched towards Chuuya and opened his palm. Chuuya leaned towards the hand to see something pacing back and forth in Dazai’s grasp. 

“Grasshoppers?’ Chuuya noted. 

“Rice grasshoppers,” Dazai corrected, “They feast on rice. They were present near the edges of the village's rice fields. While the villagers probably chased away the rice grasshoppers nearest to the village, the farther fields were run rampant with them. They’ll probably find that at least a quarter of their overall harvest has been ravaged by these little critters.” 

“While a quarter of the rice will cause hardship, that doesn’t constitute a complete famine.” Chuuya pointed out. 

“Correct,” Dazai sang out in a pitiful voice. Laying on the ground clogged his throat with saliva and caused Dazai’s voice to sound like he was coughing up hairballs. “But then I noticed another insect fluttering through the fields.” 

“What did you find?” Chuuya demanded after Dazai held his tongue for a few moments. 

Dazai smirked as he answered, “Weevils. The females have probably already laid their eggs in the rice plants. The villagers will check their harvest later to find it destroyed.” 

Chuuya spent a few minutes processing Dazai’s words. While one or the other of those insects would cause mayhem, Dazai would be right to predict a famine. And that would line up with the intense warning dancing through his body during their short excursion in the village. But it wouldn’t explain the sudden spike at the end. 

“And the war?” Chuuya asked, trying to figure out how it equated into the calamity he felt. 

“Like I said, conjecture,” Dazai dismissed, “Be grateful Chuuya! You were the key to the likely war.” 

“What? How?!” Chuuya demanded. As much as he relished participating in conflict, he rarely initiated it. 

“Those men you killed,” Dazai pointed out, “When the villagers find them, they’ll remember my comment about the Akugata clan and the tension between the two clans will probably escalate to war. Especially with the famine haunting that village.” 

Chuuya couldn’t help the dark chuckle that ripped from his lips. Once Dazai had explained his logic, the cause of the calamity was so clear that Chuuya wasn’t sure how he’d missed it. But something was still bothering him. “Why did you tell them that I could stop this calamity? Why not promote Odasaku? He’d be better for the poor harvest. Rice isn’t in my sphere of influence.”

“Ah, well,” For the first time since the conversation started Dazai appeared bashful. He lowered his neck to the ground and tilted his head away from Chuuya, trying to hide the faint reddish colouring that tainted his cheeks. Finally, he admitted, his face buried in his shoulder, “I wanted more people to worship Chuuya.”

“Hah?! You do realise that you’re the reason no one’s prayed to me in years, right!” Chuuya plucked Dazai up by the fabric bunched around his neck and shook the human. 

“But they weren’t true believers!” Dazai cried out, placing his hands over Chuuya’s, “They didn’t really believe that Chuuya existed.”

“Then why venture all the way to my shrine!” Chuuya was done with Dazai’s logic. While the calamity stuff was accurate, he didn’t want to listen to Dazai undo what little following Chuuya believed he had. 

But Dazai wouldn’t allow Chuuya to walk away. As Chuuya lifted himself off of Dazai’s body, the young human tightened his grip on Chuuya’s hands. While Chuuya could rip himself away from Dazai easily, he hesitated. He didn’t want to hurt Dazai. And Dazai used that moment of pause to impart, “They went on a whim. If they were right then they’d ensure victory for their clan. If they were wrong then they spent the last weeks training in harsh climates. They never truly believed in you, so I prevented them from receiving your blessing!” 

And that was what Chuuya was afraid of. Deep down, he’d known. Despite the drops of men who visited his shrine, he never heard the downpour of people worshipping him from their homes and pleading for his aid. He’d deluded himself into believing he’d only help those who visited his shrine, but in reality the only people to pray to him were those that found his shrine. 

“Damn you,” Chuuya whispered as he lost strength in his legs. He sunk down so that his weight was pressed into Dazai’s legs as he whispered once more, “Damn you.” 

“It’s okay, Chuuya,” Dazai soothed, as he righted himself into a sitting position and repositioned Chuuya into his lap. A single, cloth wrapped hand reached out to cup Chuuya’s cheek, “I’ll always believe in you. I’ll always be by your side.” 

“You can’t promise that,” Chuuya protested even as one of his hands held Dazai’s hand to his cheek, “Once this journey is over you’ll return to Odasaku and-”

“I’m not returning to Odasaku,” Dazai interrupted Chuuya to announce. “I’m staying with you.”

“You can’t mean that!” Chuuya cried, tears smearing salt patterns down his cheek. 

“I do mean it,” Dazai replied confidently, his free hand moving to wipe away Chuuya’s tears, “I want to stay with Chuuya forever as Arahabaki’s miko.” 

A laugh of disbelief croaked out of Chuuya’s throat as he asked, “Do you even know what a miko is?”

“No,” Dazai replied, “But that man from the village asked if I was your miko, and I wanted to be. I want to be Arahabaki’s miko.”

Chuuya wanted to protest. He wanted to inform Dazai that miko were women. But the more he thought about it, the more Chuuya realised that despite his gender, Dazai fit the description of a miko. He could commune with the gods and he was currently travelling to spread the words of Arahabaki. Didn’t that make him a miko?

And Chuuya wanted Dazai. He wanted the human man so badly that blood was burning through non-existent arteries to flush his skin red with desire. But if Chuuya took this simple thing from Dazai, he knew that it wouldn’t be enough. Just a little of Dazai would become intoxicating and Chuuya knew he’d covet more and more of Dazai. He wouldn’t be able to share. 

But he couldn’t do that to Dazai. 

And yet he couldn’t stop himself from asking, “Would you be my miko? If you agree I can’t just be fine with you as my miko. I’ll want more. I know I will. I want all of you Dazai. I want you to be mine, totally and completely. And if you can’t do that, then I can’t accept this. It would drive me mad. So, I’m asking you, Dazai, do you still want to be my miko?”

Chuuya couldn’t look at Dazai. Instead he glared at Dazai’s chest, daring Dazai to refuse him, expecting Dazai to refuse him. 

What he didn’t expect was Dazai’s hands to cup both his cheeks and raise his head so that he started Dazai right in the eye. He didn’t expect Dazai to smile so joyously at him and lean down to kiss him. He didn’t expect Dazai to cling to Chuuya and cry, “Yes! Yes, Chuuya. You can have my everything.” 

And they never did finish their adventure. Instead, Dazai dragged Chuuya around the country with him, spreading the word of Arahabaki’s power. With the combination of Chuuya’s calamity detection and Dazai’s keen observation, they were able to bring devastating truths to many clans. While at first many laughed in Dazai’s face, as the seasons passed, Dazai found warmer and warmer receptions in the villages they travelled too. 

Chuuya couldn’t even stay with Dazai at all times. People were actually praying to him both at his shrine and from their homes. With the new found respect, Chuuya’s power bolstered and his shrine increased in size and glamour. 

At one point, Chuuya had been satisfied with his shrine, but now he pooled his power to create a larger, fancier, more luxurious shrine for Dazai to retreat too. He was constantly preparing for Dazai to return to their mountain home and for Dazai to live in his shrine with him. He wanted to give Dazai everything. 

He wanted to give Dazai all he could in return for all he took. He took Dazai’s passion, Dazai’s home, Dazai’s family, Dazai’s body, Dazai’s love. And he had so little to give in return. All he could give was himself and a shrine that existed thousands upon thousands of kilometres away from their current location. 

And yet, Dazai never complained. He’d always insist that he had everything he’d ever need with Chuuya. 

And then rumours about Dazai began to float around the human words. 

The first time Chuuya and Dazai heard the rumours was a complete cycle of the seasons after the initial village. Dazai had insisted on a nap in the rice fields due to the unnaturally warm day. Chuuya, unable to deny Dazai something so simple, allowed Dazai to hide a couple of rows back and sleep in his lap. 

Not even a few minutes after Dazai fell into a light slumber, Chuuya heard two men stumble towards their location, their thunder voices causing Dazai to shift in his sleep. Chuuya was about to force the two buffoons into silence when he realised what they were talking about. Instead of shushing them, Chuuya listened in on their conversation.

“I’m tellin’ ya. It’s real, the Arahabaki miko.”

“C’mon! Yer just spouting shit.”

“I’m serious. It came to my previous clan and caused our rice to go bad. We couldn’t eat it. Then the neighboring clan attacked and wiped our clan out. I was lucky to survive and marry into this clan.”

“Man, I can’t imagine it! Whaddit look like?”

“It was wearing all this silk cloth. Looked expensive, could probably buy lotsa rice. But it was weird. It wore the cloth all around its body like a shirokakeshita.”

“What? The miko a bride or somethin’?”

“Maybe. Two guys from my village tried to steal its cloth, but a weird force blew them away.”

“Freaky. Like, is it Arahabaki’s bride or some shit?”

“Ha, the Arahabaki bride. Brings with it all the calamity that Arahabaki’s supposed to take away.” 

“Like some bad omen.”

Chuuya knew the men said more, but at this point they’d wandered far enough down the road that even with Chuuya’s supernatural hearing, all he could hear were faint vocals riding down the wind.

But Chuuya had heard enough. 

He let out a small snort once the men were gone. Arahabaki’s bride, huh? Well Dazai certainly looked the part. Not that bride could encompass all that Dazai was to Chuuya, but it was a close human equivalent. 

Chuuya felt a slight shake in his knees. He glanced down to find Dazai suppressing laughter. Instead of verbalising his amusement, Dazai’s body shook and his head spasmed in Chuuya’s lap. 

“They’re right, you know,” Dazai commented once his laughter had subsided, “It really is like I’m Chuuya’s bride!”

“You’re nothing like a bride,” Chuuya scoffed, “You’re just Dazai. And you’re mine.” 

A brilliant grin lit up Dazai’s face as he pulled Chuuya down for a kiss. The kiss continued to a second and a third. They ended up spending the rest of the day hidden in that rice field, wrapped up in each other. 

Years passed, and while Dazai could be the most infuriating human Chuuya had ever met, Dazai was his. They still hadn’t returned to their mountain home, but neither of them cared at this point. They were content in their travelling and in each other. 

But Chuuya would soon discover that happiness with a human was fleeting. 

Chuuya had left Dazai to his own devices for a little bit to return to his shrine. A group of men had made the journey to pray to Arahabaki, and Chuuya was quick to visit and listen to their prayer. 

“Lord Arahabaki,” The leader of the group prayed, “Please let our operation succeed, and let us be rid of the Arahabaki bride.”

And no. What. Did. They. Just. Say.

Chuuya froze in shock as he processed the man’s prayer. But in another flash it clicked. And all he could feel was panic and furry. He needed to get to Dazai. Right Now!

Another blink and he was back at Dazai’s side. 

Dazai’s presence was still in the exact same place Chuuya had left him, right between the edge of a clan’s rice field and a forest where a rumoured shrine to Inari was hidden. Dazai had wanted to search for the shrine, and had tricked Chuuya into agreeing. But before they could enter the forest, Chuuya had heard the start of praying at his shrine, so Dazai had agreed to wait until Chuuya returned. 

However, Dazai wasn’t in the same state as Chuuya had left him. 

At first Chuuya almost missed the human. Even though he knew Dazai was loitering somewhere nearby, all signs of the man had vanished. Chuuya’s thoughts jumbled and he could think very little over the rush of anger that enveloped his mind. He needed to find Dazai. 

And then he noticed a slim stream of blood trickling out from the nearby rice paddy. 

Chuuya tore through the rice, uncaring that the heads of the rice plant were thrown to the ground, useless. And that’s where he found Dazai, curled up in a circle of flattened rice plants, kernels of rice still falling from the sky like a parody of snow. The rice beneath Dazai had already stained red. Even the cloth Dazai wrapped around his body was a brilliant red. 

For a moment, Chuuya kid himself into believing that Dazai was asleep, curled up on his side with his head tucked under one arm. With a fond smile, Chuuya reached out a hand to gently shake Dazai as he whispered, “Wake up, Osamu.”

And the illusion was shattered once more when Chuuya’s hand flipped Dazai’s body over.

 The body flopped over, the hand on Dazai’s head thumping down on the ground beside Dazai. But Chuuya didn’t hear the sound of Dazai’s limp hand touching the ground. No. His entire being focused on Dazai’s chest. Or what was left of his chest. 

Dazai’s chest had been cut open starting at the collar bone, down the sternum, and ending by the navel. The skin had been crudely hacked away with most likely a dull nata and then ripped along the sides to allow access to the innards of the body. Jutting out of the opening, the ribs around the heart had been stretched apart and blossomed out of the chest. And worst of all, at the center of this flower of ribs was Dazai’s heart, the long pulmonary artery and vein were still partially attached to the heart and wrapped around the ribs like wines spreading out from the bud that was Dazai’s heart. 

“Dazai! Dazai, you scheming bride imitator, say something!” Chuuya called out as he sunk to his knees at Dazai’s side. He lucked Dazai’s cooling head and placed it in his lap, not caring as his clothes became sticky. 

But even as he pleaded for Dazai to answer him, Chuuya knew his actions were futile. But nothing cemented Dazai’s death like the unseeing, blank eyes that stared back at Chuuya without blinking. Dazai’s eyes had always shone so brilliantly in life and now they mocked Chuuya in their lifelessness. 

Droplets of water splattered on Dazai’s face, and it took Chuuya a moment to realise he was crying. But once he began sobbing, the tears wouldn’t stop. He leaned over Dazai’s corpse and wailed. All around them, rice plants were flattened to the ground and the wind screamed as it pulled even the trees towards Chuuya. 

And Chuuya cried. 

He cried and mourned until all that remained was anger. 

Anger and a little bit of love.

“Odasaku,” Chuuya breathed, expelling all his love to hold back his anger for a moment longer. 

“Chuuya,” Odasaku greeted as he materialized behind Chuuya, “I haven’t heard from you in a while. How’s Da-”

Chuuya ignored the horrified end of Odasaku’s sentence. He pressed his cheek against Dazai’s as he turned the two of them around to face Odasaku. Still cuddling Dazai, Chuuya observed Odasaku. The man had been Dazai’s father figure for as long as Chuuya knew Dazai. 

What he found in Odasaku’s face satisfied Chuuya’s love. Odasaku’s eyes were blown wide even as his eyes strained to tear them away from the horrific picture of Dazai and Chuuya. His jaw wobbled between gapping and gnashing his teeth together. And at Odasaku’s side, his hands twitched, whether to steal Dazai from Chuuya or to push the sight away, Chuuya didn’t know. 

Chuuya gently plucked Dazai from the ground and extended the body to Odasaku. Odasaku accepted Dazai with a glassy gaze. Once Dazai was nestled into Odasaku’s arms, Chuuya whispered with the last of his love, “Take care of him.”

“What will you do, Chuuya?” Odasaku asked him, his gaze blinking up from Dazai to peer into Chuuya’s being. 

But Chuuya had no more words for Odasaku. All that remained in his being was rage. A rage that would have turned Dazai’s body to dust with a single touch. 

But now, now Dazai was safe, and Chuuya could unleash the pent up rage that had boiled to an inferno. A single step and Chuuya released his human form. 

Gone were the human body proportions and the human clothing that Chuuya had so adored. In its place was Arahabaki with its long animalistic arms and feet that turned to darkened claws. A dark red glow engulfed Arahabaki as it lifted its unnaturally long neck to bare its teeth to the sky. A howl that could only be described as sorrow filled tore through the trees, scattering birds, squirrels, and insects. 

Yokai of mischief and destruction materialized from the Inari forest and bowed their heads to their master: Arahabaki, the incarnation of calamity. 

Arahabaki raged. It raged and raged with no end to its anger. 

It danced through wars, inciting hatred in humans and edging on the pride and greed of men. It pranced across battlefields, cackling madly as blood was spilt and heads severed. It laughed at the winners who rewrote history, and giggled at the losers who were buried in the ground. 

It disturbed nature. Causing seasons to overstay their welcome, as humans and animals alike fretted. It tore through the ocean, bringing tsunamis that devastated human civilization, and crushed down on the ground, forcing the ground to tremble in fear. 

And Arahabaki continued to laugh. It laughed and laughed as it cried and it raged. No longer could Arahabaki recall the reason for its rage, but the madness that this rage induced intoxicated Arahabaki until nothing else mattered. Nothing but the next calamity. 

Nothing but rage. Rage in humans, rage in animals, and rage in itself. 

Nothing could quiet the rage in Arahabaki’s being. 

Nothing. 

Until Arahabaki heard singing.

It wasn’t a pretty song. The voice cracked on high notes and never quite reached the lower ones. The pitch was off and the words ineligible. In fact, the song itself grated on Arahabaki’s ears and should have induced further rage. 

But instead, the anger inside of Arahabaki simmered, another part of its being reaching out to that song, to that voice. 

Because Arahabaki recognised that voice.

Chuuya recognised that voice. 

It was Dazai. Dazai was singing to him. 

And the rage all but vanished as Chuuya paused his being to listen to Dazai’s voice. Every hideously off pitch note further blanketing the furry Chuuya had felt for so long. Each muddled word blossomed in Chuuya’s ears as he strained to hear Dazai’s voice clearer. 

Chuuya followed the sounds of the voice, beaming as the volume of Dazai’s voice increased. He followed blindly as the sun burned his eyelids that hadn’t opened in so long. Chuuya pursued the voice, further and further until he felt a familiarly soft hand brush his forehead. 

“Dazai,” Chuuya breathed, his voice hoarse from maniacal laughter. His mouth stretching into a crude approximation of a smile, far too much of a smirk than he’d like it to be. 

In his mind's eye, Chuuya saw Dazai smile back at him as the hand brushed through his hair and pulled Chuuya to his lap. Still humming that horrid tune, Dazai cradled Chuuya’s head before whispering, “Sleep Chuuya. Sleep until you can free me.”

And Chuuya slept.  

Hide away, hide away from the Arahabaki bride

Keep away, keep away from the Arahabaki bride

If it sees you, it’ll curse you and take away your pride!

Run away, run away from the Arahabaki bride

Shy away, shy away from the Arahabaki bride

If you touch it or tap it, Arahabaki will take away your hide!

Wish away, wish away the Arahabaki bride

Pray away, pray away the Arahabaki bride

Its soul is returning to be the Arahabaki bride!