Work Text:
Before Sangononmiya Kokomi realised it, it became a hobby to collect the feathers of a certain Shogunate general.
It was on a day like any other when the Divine Priestess of Watatsumi noticed the occasional feathers left behind after a skirmish. They shone like midnight, their vanes curling beautifully with a violet sheen as she ran her fingers along the edges. It immediately occurred to her that such plumes—longer and wider than most species of native birds could ever grow—could only belong to one race: the elusive tengu. Moreover, there was only one tengu that would take the trouble to come all the way to Nazuchi Beach so frequently.
Kujou Sara was careless, indeed. More often than not her feathers were left behind in the wake of battle, and the Divine Priestess would be just as foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity to study the general closely. Not to glean more knowledge about tengu biology in general, but to study the Kujou general’s bodily condition. To gain some insight on how well (or poorly) she was faring with the war, and take advantage of any chinks in her armour.
Kokomi kept the first feather she obtained on her desk, where she would sit to process paperwork and occasionally peer into the enigmatic darkness as though gazing into a crystal ball, vying for whatever secret it could reveal. However, it was a fruitless night; Kokomi realised that she had no point of reference that could help her identify the clues she sought. (But she did enjoy admiring the feather quite thoroughly.)
The second, third, and fourth feathers she found were not much different from the first, which made the priestess wonder if she had merely led herself on a wild goose chase, but the fifth feather—found by the side of one of her fallen soldiers—presented a glimmer of hope. Or rather, a lacklustre pitch-black that could not catch a hint of light. Kokomi pondered what could have caused such a drastic change; If it were related to the recent skirmishes, such wear may have been due to the Shogunate’s recent losses in their zero-sum game. If she were as frazzled as the Kujou general, she would have chosen to lay low and devise a different approach to this war.
The period of peace since then did not last long, as the priestess received a report that the Shogunate’s troops had taken advantage of the cover of the moonless night and launched an ambush startlingly close to the Musoujin Gorge. The action was over by the time she arrived at the scene, which could almost be described as a carnage if she arrived any later. As she tended to one of the injured, the sixth feather drifted into her lap. It was the most pristine specimen to date—humming with electro and numbing to the touch, faintly glowing in the darkness of the night.
Kokomi held her breath; Kujou Sara was nearby, watching, even alerting only the enemy priestess to her presence. If not for the current state of her soldiers, the priestess would have mobilised her troops against the threat, even if they were simply being observed. Fortune may have suaded the bow-wielding general against taking her life this very instant, but it would be a fallacy to assume that she had nothing else in mind, for war is sometimes a game of chess. Just like how Kokomi has been attempting to learn more about her enemy, her enemy was doing so as well, perhaps even noting down many things about the priestess she preferred to keep secret.
The possibility left Kokomi slightly pink in her cheeks—embarrassed, but undeterred.
The seventh, eighth, and ninth feathers did not offer any details out of the ordinary and, at this point, Kokomi’s collection of the Kujou tengu’s feathers has grown sizable. A number of them remained on her desk for observation, as though they might produce any more clues than an average avian’s feather. The sixth feather, its imbued electro long dispersed, was kept in a drawer in Kokomi’s nightstand. Even now, it was the most wonderful specimen, with an unyielding shaft and a vane unbroken no matter how often it was stroked. On top of it all, Kokomi simply found it impossible to draw her gaze away from the shimmering midnight hues. It took her back to the moonless night when the illuminated feather drifted into her possession. What was the Kujou general’s intention behind it?
Kokomi would continue to speculate, but what little remained of her candlelight prompted her to retire for the night. It would be wise to do so, for there was no knowing when and how troubles of the morrow may occur.
The passage of the moon eventually raised the starry curtains over Watatsumi Island, and the morning sun gradually filtered into Kokomi’s chambers, shoji colours blooming soft in all areas but one, where the sunlight glared and woke her up. Puzzling, since she was rather sure that all shojis would have been closed either by herself or her ladies-in-waiting. Sighing and whining as she aroused from slumber, rubbing the sleep out of her heavy eyelids, Kokomi soon realised that trouble had already begun. Or has it?
Something was waiting for her on the sill of the shoji creaked ajar, a little putty of shadow perched with its back to the sun. When Kokomi’s eyes eventually adjusted to the blinding contrast, the jet-black silhouette turned out to be a lone crow, whose midnight coat gleamed with hues of electro in the sunlight, eyes sparkling beady gold as it peered into the Kokomi’s room—or rather, Kokomi felt like it was looking directly at her.
Before she knew it, she had made her way towards the mysterious crow and raised her hand towards it, but she hesitated midway. Is this really not a trap?
The crow cocked its head curiously.
“Kujou Sara?” Kokomi uttered carelessly at the bird, which stared back long and hard. In fact, it made not a single movement, which made the priestess wonder if it had understood her somehow. “Madam Kujou?”
Did tengus ever have the ability to shapeshift?
Without warning, the crow swooped into the room and landed on the nightstand of all places, exactly where that one special feather had always been kept. Its eyes stayed fixated on Kokomi whence it stood. Moments later, the crow took off again, this time darting towards the defenceless Kokomi who could only raise her arms in front of her face. It was a calculated move, as the avian took to perching on the higher arm, even going so far as to be careful not to break skin with its talons.
It cocked its head curiously when Kokomi finally took a peek, wondering how she was not sliced to ribbons yet. (It later occurred to her how silly she was to expect any major harm from a crow.) The bird was larger than it looked when it was perched on the sill.
“You…” Kokomi swallowed dryly, words and all when the crow brushed a velvety wing into her cheek. She could not imagine the stoic Shogunate general to be capable of reaching out to her like this. “Are you really not Madam Kujou…?”
The avian pulled its wing back and proceeded to preen it, as though to answer her question. “I am just a crow.” Or something like that.
Though uncertain whether she was actually dealing with a shapeshifted Kujou Sara or overreacting to an average corvid, the priestess carefully raised a free hand to the bird perching on her arm. When the bird did not move away, she stroked into its feathers, her fingertips enveloped in the familiar midnight downy that neither hummed nor numbed. Maybe it was indeed just an average crow—Kokomi found herself oddly disappointed, but she continued pampering her visitor nonetheless.
As if to return her affections, the mysterious crow peppered kisses upon kisses with its beak, softly nipping the knuckles of Kokomi’s hand, earning sweetened giggles from the girl that caught its fancy.
“There, there,” Kokomi cooed as she stroked a thumb close to where the crow’s cheek could approximately be, “You’re a lovely little one, aren’t you? Are you a pet? Your master must be worried sick waiting for your return. Hurry along now, I must begin my preparations for the day as well.”
The crow lowered its head; Even the priestess, as unfamiliar with birds as she was, could sense its unwillingness to leave. Is it normal for a bird to be so expressive?
“I’m sorry, little one. My people are waiting for me,” Kokomi whispered more to herself than her midnight companion, “Perhaps… You can come by again?” She held the crow closer and gave it a little kiss on the beak. Maybe that would appease it.
“Let us meet again on the next moonless night, little one.”