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He felt the offerings hit the waves, as he always did. He tasted it on the foam as though the ocean was his own tongue, as the cresting mountains of water lapped up the libations eagerly. Fine wines, handcrafted loaves of bread, the metallic tang of gold and silver — it was a rather ostentatious offering, far more than Ryoga would have thought he might receive from such a relatively small vessel.
Well, he’d had no quarrel with the vessel in the first place, as it was small and unobtrusive, and it had poured no refuse into his domain, nor taken more of its bounty than he allowed. Still, with such an offering, he might as well tweak the waves just a tad, and make sure the vessel had a smooth course, between the storms he’d been stirring for later.
The offering was large enough and consumed enough of his attention that for an embarrassingly long time, he didn’t notice the other presence atop the boat. It wasn’t until some days into the ship’s journey that the niggling itch, that sense that he was forgetting something, finally crystallized into a sudden realization.
There was another god on that ship.
It was such a tiny thing, barely a slip of divinity, that he had hardly noticed it. But the god must have dipped a toe into the sea, sending the ripples of that small sacred pulse through Ryoga’s skin, and he knew the god was there.
It took all Ryoga had not to immediately boil the seas into a fury. Who dared walk in his domain? Had not that terrible war between the Seven and the Stars formed the treaty that defined the boundaries of their domains, of their power? Who would be so foolish as to tread across those lines laid down after centuries of divine war?
He tamed himself, however. This slip of divinity was so small, it could hardly pose any threat. It was certainly not one of the Seven, or one of the gods of the Stars, for their descent into the sea without his permission would be an act of war. Ryoga was not familiar with gods so small — they had certainly not been present during the war. Where had this little god come from, and did it not realize that passage through his domain was forbidden to it? The questions intrigued him enough, and the offering had been generous enough, to restrain him from immediately dragging the ship into the sea for this slight.
So he approached with restraint, letting the sea gently wrap a tendril of itself against the side of the ship one cold moonlit night, the water pouring silently onto the deck, where the puddle twisted and folded over itself, forming into the simple shape he wore among humans.
The ship was indeed small, more brigantine than the galleons he was used to seeing in this part of the sea. The wind pulled gently at the sails overhead, but the deck was quiet. He saw no immediate sign of human nor god.
Adjusting his grip on his trident, Ryoga turned, gaze cutting through the dark as he sought the offending deity.
Like before, however, he at first simply didn’t notice him. He looked across the deck twice before his eyes finally fell on the small, slender boy perched near the ship’s wheel, his eyes glittering wide-eyed in the dark as he stared at Ryoga.
There was no doubt that this was the god, though, as Ryoga had expected, it was no deity he was familiar with. In fact, this divinity was so very small that he initially mistook him for human, at least until he caught the golden glimmer of the divine soul hiding behind those deep red eyes.
He was small, and slight, no larger than a human child, and with a round face like one, too. His hair was dark with twin splashes of sharp red bangs like blades, but despite this, everything about the little god was soft, round, gentle. He looked surprised to see Ryoga, though the recognition in his eyes told Ryoga that while it had taken Ryoga a moment to recognize the little god, the little god had recognized him immediately.
What Ryoga did not expect the little god to do next was smile.
“Oh!” he said, leaning forward over the ship’s wheel. “You must be Nasch, Lord of the Sea!”
Ryoga considered the little god for a moment, taken aback by the genuine cheer in his voice and eyes.
“That... is one of the names I have gone by,” he said. “In human countries.”
He said this pointedly. Nasch was an old name of his, one he no longer went by, expect on the tongues of certain human kingdoms. The fact that this deity would refer to him the same way a human might...curious.
“Oh, well, that’s the only name I know for you,” the little god admitted. He bobbed a little bow in Ryoga’s direction. “My name is Yuma! I hope we didn’t bother you on our way through.”
Ryoga considered the little god for a long, quiet moment, as the edges of his ocean kissed the sides of the little ship. The little god...Yuma...had a cheerful look on his face, not at all concerned to be confronted by the God of the Seas, the Eldest of the Seven Gods of the Realm Below the Stars. Was it possible that he simply did not know he was not supposed to be here?
“By the ancient accords between the Seven and the Stars, no divine thing is permitted to step foot in my domain without permission,” Ryoga said, speaking slowly. “Perhaps you would like to explain what you’re doing here.”
Yuma blinked. He tilted his head.
“Huh? I thought that was just for the big guys? But anyway, how am I supposed to get anywhere if I can’t go across the ocean?”
He did seem genuinely confused, and Ryoga was confused in turn. He frowned.
“‘Get’ anywhere?” he said. “We are divinities. Guardians of our domains. We aren’t meant to go anywhere. We remain within the boundaries set.”
Yuma scratched his ear, a remarkably human gesture.
“Is that how it works for you guys?” he said. “Oh, wow. I guess Astral wasn’t kidding when ze said ze couldn’t leave the Realm of the Stars. That really sucks.”
Ryoga was growing more confused, and more irritated, by the second. Was this god implying that he had been to the Realm of the Stars ? That was not allowed. No divinity from the Realm Below the Stars was allowed to pass that boundary, even with an invitation.
“State your reason for being in my domain,” he said.
“Oh, I’m just traveling,” Yuma said. “Going on an adventure and stuff! I wanna see what’s over in those mountains that way.”
He pointed towards the faraway ocean horizon. Ryoga could see no mountains from this spot, though his waves did brush against a beach that looked up at steep cliffs.
“I’m sorry if I’m bothering you! I can’t really leave now, cause I’m on this boat, but I’ll get out of your hair soon! Um, just don’t sink this boat, please, the humans on board don’t actually know I’m a god, ya know?”
Ryoga turned his gaze back to the little god, the incongruity, the surprise.
He couldn’t say that he hated surprises, as the nature of the ocean, and thus his nature, was change. But he did feel a growing irritation with the simple uncertainty of it all. Even the ocean had natural cycles. This was something brand new.
And yet...looking into the little god’s bright, guileless eyes, it was hard for Ryoga to remain irritated. Instead, all he felt was...curiosity.
He let out a long, slow sigh, the sound of the rushing ocean whistling out with his breath.
“I will not sink this ship,” he said. He tilted his head. “You truly don’t know about the accords?”
Yuma shrugged.
“I think Astral was trying to tell me about that stuff. But how should I know? It’s all stuff you guys did years and years and years ago. I’ve only just been around for, uh......”
He thought, counting on his fingers, then shrugged again.
“I dunno. A lot less time than you.”
Now that was interesting. A new god? Perhaps remaining in just his own domain had caused him to miss this. Were there truly new gods being born? For what purpose and reason? And how?
Ryoga considered the little god for a long, long moment. Then he gathered up his seafoam cape against himself, and ascended the steps to the top deck where Yuma stood.
“You may pass through the seas,” he said. “This once, at any rate. Was it you who had this ship leave such an offering?”
Yuma grinned.
“I just suggested it. I’ve seen some of the lame stuff they give as offerings sometimes!”
Ryoga couldn’t help but smile, ever so slightly. Something about this little god was intriguing. Interesting. New.
“Well, I should only ask you for one thing, then,” he said.
Yuma tilted his head.
“What’s that?”
“Tell me more about who you are, where you are going, and where you’ve come from,” Ryoga said, settling himself against the railing. “I have not looked outside the boundaries of the sea for some time. Your presence here intrigues me.”
Yuma’s smile broke out wide over his face.
“Of course!! I’ve got tons of stories!”
He scrambled to sit on the railing beside the ship’s wheel, which continued to move on its own, Ryoga noted with some interest. Was this little god’s sphere of influence something that could make a ship pilot itself?
Yuma took in a deep breath. And then the words tumbled forth from him like the crashing of rain against a storming sea.
“I woke up in a small village, a long, long time ago,” he said. “I didn’t know what I was, and neither did the people who found me asleep in the woods.”
The way he spoke, it seemed to twist images into the air, and Ryoga could see it. He could see Yuma, as small as ever, waking in a forest thicket to a man and a woman waking him. He saw Yuma, following them back into the village, eating the soup they offered him as he looked at everything around him with awe and wonder.
“The humans who found me were adventurers. They were only staying in the town for one night, and they said it was lucky they’d found me, or maybe it was divine will.”
He smiled, a soft, faraway look.
“They let me come with them when I asked, and we saw so much. We climbed mountains, dove into caves, followed rivers through the forest. Everything was so new for me.”
Ryoga saw it all. He saw the craggy peaks, scraping the sky, higher than anything he could ever imagine. He saw the clouds hanging low over the mountain forests like fog. He saw the damp, glittering caves full of crystals and sharp rocks. The forest was vibrant, the water glittering like jewels, so unlike the deep color of his ocean. Yuma’s smile turned just a little bit sad.
“I didn’t realize for a long time that they were growing older, and I wasn’t. I thought of them as my parents, even though I knew they weren’t. And when they were gone....I kept traveling.”
He touched the golden necklace around his neck, and Ryoga noticed it for the first time. Once he did, he couldn’t imagine how he hadn’t seen it before — it was the deep, pure gold of Starmetal.
“They left this to me, and said it might be the key to finding out more about myself. So I kept it and I felt like it was guiding me someplace. I kept traveling, following my key.”
Ryoga watched the image of Yuma, wandering down pathways, stopping in inns where he lived among people, laughing and joking and eating with them. Yuma rode on the backs of horse drawn carriages, his legs kicking back and forth as he chatted with the man up front driving the horses.
“I found a mountain I’d never seen before, and I started to climb. I wasn’t sure why, or how, but I kept going. It was like the cold was nothing for me, or the air pressure, or anything. I could climb higher than my parents had ever been able to, and without needing to rest. And then I got to the top.”
Ryoga could almost feel the biting cold of the snowy winds as Yuma clambered up the slope, digging his hands into the snow and the ice. His cheeks flushed red, hair crusted with snow, as he pulled himself over the last ridge, and looked up. He didn’t need to say anything for Ryoga to know what it was he saw then — a rip in the sky, a cut through which the mountain’s peak jutted through. The cold and snowy sky gave way to a streak of darkness, dotted with stars.
Yuma pulled himself through the gap, and he stood in a land of gleaming blue structures, impossible spires, glowing, bobbing lights like stars. The Realm of the Stars. Ryoga had only seen it once, during the war, and then, it had been on fire. But he knew what it was.
“The Star People were all so freaked out when I got there. They thought I was a human at first, and that was bad enough for them, but then they realized I was a god from Below.”
Yuma smiled sheepishly.
“The truth was, I hadn’t known I was until they said so.”
Ryoga could not imagine it. To wake up, unknowing of what you were, to watch time pass and not understand why it did not touch you. To not wake up with an innate sense of what you were and what your purpose was.
“I was lucky that I didn’t accidentally start a war. I didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to be there!” Yuma laughed. “But then Astral calmed everyone down when I realized I was confused. Ze took me back to zir home, and taught me a bunch of stuff.”
Ryoga could see the Star Folk, a slender, glowing figure with swooped hair and golden eyes. Ryoga thought he might recognize them, perhaps as someone he had fought in the war. The Star Folk beckoned Yuma away from the chaos of the others, and then Yuma sat crosslegged in a softly glowing building carved from crystalline material.
“I must have been there a while with Astral,” Yuma said. “But I got this itch, the one my parents always had, that I just wanted to get back on the road. I wanted Astral to come with me, but ze said ze couldn’t pass through. But that I could come back and visit.”
Yuma touched his key again, as though it held some memory of that promise. Ryoga couldn’t help but raise his eyebrows.”
“You were given permission to pass back across the border? Did Astral not teach you that that’s forbidden?”
“Oh, yeah, he taught me all that,” Yuma said with a grin. “But apparently, turns out that rule doesn’t apply to me, at least. That’s why I thought it was okay to cross the ocean.”
Ryoga frowned. Why wouldn’t it apply to Yuma? Was it because he was a new god, unbound by old accords? That was a troubling thought, that there could be new gods who might stir the already tense peace.
“But at any rate, I decided to head back down the mountain, and I started traveling again. There’s so much to see, you know! And I’d been gone for so long, that things had changed from the last time I’d seen them! I’ll never run out of stuff to visit and see, because it will be different every time.”
He grinned widely, his eyes sparkling. As he spoke, as the images he wove seemed to dance in the air, that warmth of his divinity seemed to grow stronger. Where it had once been the light of a candle, flickering and quiet, now it seemed a roaring campfire, and growing all the while.
Ryoga couldn’t help but follow the images that Yuma spun, curious in spite of himself about all of the things he’d never seen. He knew of boats, and fish, and the things men used to travel the seas. He didn’t know about steam powered trains like snakes across the earth, or palaces built out of marble, or even the simplicity of winding cobblestone streets where humans worked, ate, played, and lived. He examined a floating image of a man making a shoe with some curiosity, then an image of a strange creature he’d never seen before, which Yuma helpfully informed him was a cow.
And in spite of himself...Ryoga felt the barest tug. In the wake of Yuma’s shining, excited eyes, in the maelstrom of images he wove for Ryoga, Ryoga felt a longing in the base of his stomach that he’d never felt before. The ocean was so vast and beautiful and perfect, and he’d though he’d never want anything else. But Yuma’s words caused an ache to rise in him, the ache of one who knew he’d never see any of this in person. That he would never get to walk those wheel marked dirt roads across endless fields of grass and flowers. That he would never see the way humans decorated their homes with lights that glowed even without fire, in glorious colors to dance beneath.
It shocked him, that longing. He drew back with surprise, and Yuma’s images popped like bubbles.
For a moment, the pair of them simply stood in silence — Yuma watching Ryoga, and Ryoga watching anything but.
“Thank you,” he said, finally, quietly. “I shall take my leave of you now, and allow you to complete your journey.”
He turned towards the railing, calling to the sea to bring him back, to gently pull him back under the comforting waves, away from whatever it was that Yuma was doing to him.
“Will I see you again?”
Ryoga looked sharply at Yuma, surprised. But Yuma was completely serious, his head tilted with the question.
Ryoga opened his mouth. He closed it.
“Perhaps,” he said, finally. “Or perhaps not. You have my permission to cross the seas when you choose, but I do not show myself often.”
The dazzling smile that broke over Yuma’s face made Ryoga instantly realize why the People of the Stars had said he could continue to cross their border. He didn’t like the realization, or what it did to his chest.
“Then I’ll see you!” Yuma said. “Oh! But next time, tell me all about the ocean! I’d like to see what it’s all like down there someday, if that’s all right.”
Ryoga snorted.
“You’re so human,” he said, stepping off the railing and onto a platform of water he’d called up for himself. “You may not be able to handle the pressure.”
Yuma wandered up to the railing and leaned his elbows against it as he watched Ryoga sink slowly back down towards the ocean.
“I dunno,” he said. “I think I could do it! That’s my thing, after all.”
Ryoga paused, just a few inches below Yuma where he rested his chin against his hand. A question he hadn’t asked still tugged at him, even as the boat slowly slipped further and further away.
“Yuma,” he said, before he was too far away. “What kind of god are you?”
Yuma blinked. Then a huge, dazzling grin broke over his face once more. He stood up straight and saluted.
“Pleased to meet you, Lord of the Seas,” he said. “My name is Yuma. And I’m Adventure.”
He held the position of salute for a long moment, as the boat slid through the waves and away. Ryoga continued to stand on his platform of water for a long, long time, until Yuma had stepped back from the railing and back to the ship’s wheel, until the boat was so far away that it disappeared against the glare of the rising sun.
“Adventure,” Ryoga said softly, tasting the word as he’d tasted the offerings. “So. The humans are giving life to their own gods now, are they?”
Somehow, all at once, the idea didn’t seem quite as frightening as it had before.