Work Text:
Do gods ever dream?
Miko dreams of Ei. Of violet thunder and blooming sakura and the vicious brew of love and hate and imissyouimissyou—
Clouds accumulate. Lightning cracks and the humid air and animals leave. A storm gives its warning with booming thunder, and yet, that day, Ei disappeared without a trace, without a warning. Leaving behind Miko, and the nation she swears to protect, in the hands of a puppet.
Miko knew about Kunikuzushi, knew about how the thing failed and how Ei decided to put it into slumber, but she didn’t expect another one, didn’t expect it to replace Ei.
Maybe Ei thought Miko wouldn't notice. Maybe Ei thought she wouldn't— couldn't see the difference between her and this— thing that's wearing her face. But Miko did. Oh, she did, just by a single glance, after Ei had retreated somewhere. Somewhere inside the puppet.
A Kitsune would tell the difference immediately — much less a Kitsune that is, and has been in love with Ei since she was nothing but a Kagemusha. She saw how the puppet's eyes are stone cold, violent lightning, how its hands wrap unforgivingly around the polearm, how it is—devoid of love. Devoid of everything, except for one—eternity.
Miko noticed it, and said nothing.
Because she couldn't do anything to bring Ei back. Like she couldn't bring back Kitsune Saiguu, or Makoto. What is the purpose of being immortal, when all you do is sit and watch people slip away, out of your helpless reach?
So Miko waits. She laughs and smiles and goes on with her days and does her duties as the Head priestess. But performing rituals and doing ceremonies and pretending can only get her so far. Miko receives and does commands of the Shogun dutifully, and yet she still can’t bring herself to meet the puppet, to meet the thing that has been wearing her beloved’s face again. And as the smile on her face gets more and more believable, Miko’s heart keeps shattering itself into a million lilac shards, every night.
Days and months and years pass, and before she knows it, five hundred years stretches itself from the cracks of Miko's soul to the palm of Ei's, no, the Shogun’s unperturbed palm.
—
And then, the Shogun, no, Ei, establishes the decrees.
Miko still remembers that day vividly: violet cracks and thunder booms as the Grand Narukami Shrine welcomes an unexpected guest: The Raiden Shogun.
She has tried not to shake at the sight, at the puppet that wears the face of the girl she has been dreaming of for the past five hundred years. But like the statue of the Omnipresent god that the Shogun has commanded to build, her eyes are all seeing, seeping through the calm facade of Miko’s face.
“No pointless chatter,” the puppet opens its mouth, “I am here to inform the Chief Priest about the decree.”
Miko jolts internally at how its voice is so similar and yet so different to the voice she’s been dreaming of the past millennia.
“As you may be notified beforehand, the Sakoku Decree and the Vision Hunt Decree will take place tomorrow. Inazuma’s borders will be closed immediately, and the Tri-Commission, specifically the Tenryou Commission, will seize all visions within Inazuma and inlay them upon the hands of the Thousand-Armed, Hundred-Eyed God. As the Chief Priestess of the Grand Narukami Shrine, you, Yae Miko, has the responsibility to follow and aid the Decrees to its objective. Do you understand?”
Miko wants to laugh. She should have known that the Electro Archon will do everything to reach her indestructible dream of eternity. Even if it’s closing off a whole country, even if it’s seizing the visions, no, passions of her own mortals.
How absolutely amusing. The god of eternity changed.
Where is the Kagemusha that promises her own people of an everlasting dream, unchanged forever? Where is the god Miko and Inazuman people love so much? Where is their god, her god?
And so she breathes out,
“ You changed, Ei.”
She swears she can see a crack beneath the puppet’s almost perfect facade, but it disappears, quick as lightning.
“That is irrelevant to the conversation”, the Shogun frowns, turning her back to Miko. “And”, it adds, “I am the Raiden Shogun. I would like the Head Priestess to address me with that title. as it is formal and suitable for your position.”
With that, the Shogun leaves, flashes of violet behind the Torii gates. Miko has never felt so helpless.
And if any tears were shed, they disappeared as quickly as the falling Sacred Sakura.
—
The decrees take place, and Miko wonders if this is the eternity Inazuma deserves, the eternity she deserves, an all-consuming loneliness that takes the shape of cracking smiles and violet pain. Sometimes, most of the time, she hates Ei. She loathes Ei, for abandoning her, for abandoning Inazuma to the unmoved facade of a puppet, for isolating them, for isolating herself into desolation. She hates and hates and hates until there’s nothing left inside, only a brew of heartaches and helplessness and echoes of I (used to, used to, used to) love you.
Miko stops dreaming of Ei. Instead, she dreams of cracking the puppet open, of tearing the little thing apart, piece-by-piece until she can find Ei, even if it’s only a tiny trace. She dreams of cutting its throat, of slicing the face she used to dream of every night in half.
In those maniacal dreams, blood stained her hands. Flesh painted her thighs. And yet, Ei is still nowhere to be found.
Ei, Ei, Ei. Where are you, Ei?
—
Miko stops dreaming.
Because does it matter anymore? Because after all, what is a few hundred years to a god? The very god that didn't hesitate to cut down a mountain, to slay her very own friends, all for the eternity she chases. The god that Miko so very loved. Loves.
After all, Miko's still foolishly in love with her, the same foolish devotion a mortal has for their archon. After all, the eternity she's trying to protect is in the shape of Ei’s smile instead.
If Ei is foolish to leave Inazuma, to leave Miko, then Miko is even more foolish, for loving a god, her god. Little kitsune, so very innocent. So very stupid , chasing down a goal that she can never reach, for eternity.
So Miko sleeps, soundlessly, hopelessly, waiting for eternity to float out of her hopeless reach, waiting for her smile to finally break.