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When her god appears at the Grand Narukami Shrine without warning, the air stills.
When her god stands in front of the lovingly pruned Sacred Sakura, watchful eyes score the scene; nervous, unsure.
When her god seeks out the chief priestess by name with sparkling eyes and a smile, no one moves to fetch her. No one dares to move.
But, for her god, Yae Miko appears with a smile to match, as she would again and again. As many times as it takes.
With the shrine all but cleared out from the prying eyes and ears of the shrine maidens, Miko strides forward to greet her unexpected guest, as she would to anyone -- as if this were ‘anyone.’
No one else sees the way the nation's Archon lights up at the sight of her dearest friend; her expression tells of a joy oft reserved for lovers, soulmates, gazing with utmost adoration. To an outsider, such a smile would betray a sight of a lover presenting gifts upon lavish gifts, dressed to the nines.
But, it is only Miko.
“Only.”
To her god, she is more than enough.
As Miko bows, her god laughs. What lavish gifts were needed? all that mattered was the rock steady presence of the only person who dared to understand, and yet further dared to stay after understanding
What more could her god ask for?
--
In the silence of the shrine, Miko knows she cannot idle.
It is not comfortable, the way her god regards her as if she reveres her. But, such a curious thought is placed in the back of Miko’s mind; she can wait no longer. Unless she prefers to live in restless uncertainty, it must be done - today.
When Miko speaks, her voice trembles. It is a quiver fueled by unknown sentiment.
Or, so she thinks.
Or, so she desperately hopes.
If her god minds the stillness, it goes unsaid. Not a quiver of her own could be seen nor heard; only confidence radiates from her.
Miko thinks of accusing her god for stealing what was hers, but knew, if questioned, she could not name only one thing.
Despite this, there is no contempt. For any other thief, there would be.
For her god, Miko gladly spares anything she has. It would offend her only if her god felt the need to ask.
--
With smooth strides, her god approaches her.
For anyone else, Miko would have stood her ground.
As she backs up against the wooden walls of the shrine, Miko lifts her hand. It is an attempt to appear more in control, as she gives more ground away to her god.
It is without question. It is a struggle.
Her god speaks, and Miko feels her hands betray her nerves. She quickly hides them from view.
Is it uncouth to show weakness to the only person she is weak to?
Unsure of the answer, -- after all, who else had the power to stand up to her god if checks and balances were truly needed? -- Miko pushes down the thought.
Her god reaches out. Miko feels warm fingers graze her shoulder, pause, then trail down, lingering by her hand.
A practiced aloof response is Miko's weapon in this unspoken war of wits.
Her god's hand bumps into Miko's, caressing twitching fingers in a tender invitation. Was it for something more? No, no…
Miko does not allow herself to express her feelings. To hear her own longing spill over her lonely lips…?
But, to deny herself the release she needed wasn’t productive. And, to further deny her god's affections felt akin to sacrilege.
Could she give in to her desires? Even if she craves the forbidden affection with visceral need? Especially if her cravings run so deep that she dreams daily of the fateful day when her feelings could be returned?
Miko knows where her priorities stand: she only has eyes for her god.
Oh, that look of concern! How it bores through Miko's facade.
She wonders, how could she stand strong in the literal face of that who makes her weak at the knees?
She has to be strong to honor her god. but who cares about following human-made doctrine to the letter when it went in the face of the god it was created to honor?
How could Miko honor her god by giving in?
How could she let herself betray the truth hidden in the undercurrents of their mental war?
How could she dare properly love her god as if they were equals, when her god was the only person she felt equal to?
How could her strength become her weakness become her strength?
How?
How
how
“You haven't seemed to be yourself, Miko,”
oh.
“Is everything alright?”
Her god sees her as an equal. Deep down, Miko knows this, but feels the rush anew regardless.
“Oh, it's nothing,” Miko drawls, pretending to admire her nails. “Just the struggle of a lone priestess against the weight of an impossible truth that threatens to drown her.”
Miko’s performance of impassivity causes a frown. The frown on her god's beautiful face threatens to drown her. Though her god regards her in the highest honor, Miko still questions it: why does her god care ?
A squeeze of Miko’s hand, with a slight tug.
“Tell me how to protect this priestess.”
A demand. The authoritative tone dries up Miko's throat, and she's certain her god can not only hear, but feel her heart race.
What else could Miko wish for? How else can the opportunity present itself? What plainer detail is necessary?
Miko knows not to trust her careless wishes; it is not what it seems. She knows that.
“Tell me,” her god urges, voice rasp.
Miko pulls away from her god's touch. Is she a fool? Is she weak for it? Strong?
“This priestess dares not speak her desires, though they may engulf her.”
How aloof could she be with a heart, fragile from centuries of atrophy, screaming to be heard beneath her chest?
“Foolish. I will not allow it,” her god counters. “This priestess has intrinsic value and brings-” her breath hitches as she looks away. She continues, softer:
“-she brings a companionship unmatched, despite centuries of competition. This priestess might be the light that all beauty looks towards, in envy.”
Although her god reaches again for her hand, she stops just short.
Could Miko be more right and wrong, simultaneously? Her own breath comes short, shallow. To look at her god would be to acknowledge the weight of her situation. Even worse: it would acknowledge her power to change it.
That scares Miko. To hold the horror of vulnerability in her hands, ready to wield at a moment’s notice - was it not what Miko had vowed herself to do? To finally release herself from the dangerous secret that threatens to drag her below the depths?
But, to say it …
With one fluid movement, her god sweeps her arms under Miko’s body and lifts her. When Miko opens her eyes, she lays comfortably in the arms of her god.
As if she is a bride. It is an errant thought she dare not entertain.
But, with her god pressing their bodies together, with the shared warmth between them lighting Miko’s senses alight, it is hard to think of anything else. In fact, it is hard to think .
She does not trust her mouth, saying only her god’s name, hoping dearly that her tone suffices in depicting the range of her feelings.
“It seems this priestess needs to be placed under my watchful eye.” Her hands tighten on Miko’s skin. “She must not succumb under my watch. Is that understood?”
Despite her grave tone, her eyes nearly shine, crinkled with mirth. Something more.
Miko considers placing her arms around her god’s neck. Is such a gesture too much? Does it fall short? Regardless, her god waits for an answer. Miko dares to lose herself in her god’s eyes, filled with nothing short of adoration.
“Anything for you, Ei.”