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Winters in Inazuma were always cold to the bone, the touch of the snow being unbearable to handle should you be caught in the bitter bite of a predatory breeze. The cold always finds a way to get at you when you're least expecting it, when your guards are down and you find yourself to have a reason to be at ease. But never do so. It's a fool's choice to think nature will be kind when one is as gentle as it is when relaxed. Nature is its own class, choosing when to lull to sleep in hibernation or to be a roaring beast that bares its teeth and attacks anyone unsuspecting. one should never take nature for granted. Even if the natural order is disrupted, the earth shall never forget just as the wind will always tell the betrayal through its everlasting movements. Just as thunder will bellow and crack down on those who anger it. Just as fire is widespread and will destroy anything in its path in order to exact revenge. Just as water will drown the damned in misery. Just as the winter will last ever and more, biting and whipping around. Nature is the last thing you wish to fight against. That's precisely why you must learn to coexist, to find a way to move along with the flow.
Kunikuzushi was told to live with these principles, to abide by them no matter what. It must be able to live with nature as it is something to be both feared and respected. The puppet must be able to find a way to live by these rules. But just who was the person that convinced such a distrustful creation?
Hm. Someone inherently unexpected, that's for sure. A yokai of the forest, a literal force of nature that is and always will be revered yet they were never outright dangerous. At least until you provoke her. But if not, if you listen to the sound of the unchanging winds, to the distant sounds of the leaves rustling in the wind, then understand you will remain safe. But threaten a spirit as unpredictable as her and you will no doubt face the wrath of someone who has lived centuries of repressing the rage and anger built up by suffering in silence. But the spirit never once, never, had lost it when Kunikuzushi had continuously messed up.
No. The kodama yokai never once had ever gotten angry. At least, occasions that Kunikuzushi was aware of. Even if those dark brown eyes stared at him, scrutinized its footwork, the female spoke in a concise manner that was informative. A way that was strict yet showed no ill will but only carefully constructed mannerisms of someone elegantly informed in the way of dancing. Every step must be careful and gentle as the breeze blows through the field of flowers. It must hold the energy of a wave greeting the sand on a beach. Must show the flow as a tide coming and going. And it must pay respect. Not only to the world around you but to the heart and soul that you own yourself. Something that no one else can ever take away from you.
That's what he learned. It's what Kunikuzushi learned in the months it's been in the care of the yokai. And the teachings taught to them had never once been something he had disobeyed. Hadn't even come close to going against such morals. And yes, it's something that was chosen of free will. And no, his savior had not ordered it to abide by it. It's something the doll took to heart. Or at least it would if there was one inside the puppets chest. She however, never cared. The spirit only gave sharp words that would have made anyone recoil in shame, but for the divine creation, it was not something that caused such visceral reactions. But only a feeling inside its chest to form, a feeling that only happened with the woman. A feeling that Kunikuzushi was always desperate to hold onto and to never let go, keeping it chained up inside the chest where a heart is meant to reside. its center. its true center that always showed care, affection, and so much “love” as she had explained it. The puppet had always felt eternally grateful (such an ironic phrase), always trying to figure out a way to repay the kindness and-
The sound of a stern voice drew the puppet out of its thoughts, making it startle as the object in his hand dropped from the unsteady hands and onto the grass below him. A voice that was the definition of the wind breezing past a still life, the peace disrupted with something as natural yet startling enough to make one feel as if they were just a part of the background. A scene in a play. A simple way to progress along. Yet there was the softness of a blooming flower to it, a gentle promise of open arms. Almost as if the cyclone that pushes and tears one apart should they get too close, the same wind will bring a warmth that not many will understand or feel, lest they listen and pay close attention.
“You're distracted, Kuzu. Tell me what has gotten one so caught up in one's mind.”
Ah that's right. They were outside. The snow and ice was beginning to thaw, the wind becoming more warmer. The sounds of birds chirping, animals poking their tiny heads out of the burrows created by them. The river in front of the duo with a little slow jitter as pieces of ice floated by. Tiny enough that it didn't block the path but big enough it was enough to allow people to see evidence of winter. The winter chill was departing as one leaves their home, waving and a promise of coming back again. And just as winter would leave on its little trip, a new relative would appear with a much more gentler and beautifuler approach. Spring is the kind of relative everyone flocks towards with lightness in their hearts, smiles bright and wide and arms open in acceptance. The mortals always enjoyed the first bloom of flowers, the children running out and off before their parents could stop them. Their bright laughter and innocence would brighten the cold and dark that winter created. Strangely enough, it was something the puppet always enjoyed hearing…the laughter and innocent thinking? Those sounds…Kunikuzushi would never forget the way it created a..positive feeling well inside its chest.
“I was…merely thinking about what you taught me, Mao-san.” the shorter mumbled. The puppet swallowed at the weight leaving its hands, looking back down to the item that previously occupied its hands. A doll. Or at least one made out of fabric. A doll that looked to be an over simplified version of himself, a long piece of thread being connected from an unfinished part of the stitching to a needle. A little toy. Something that Kunikuzushi spent hours on attempting to create. It was a gift. And gifts are meant to be perfect and convey emotions. That's what the yokai said.
Purple eyes turned to look up at the female spirit sitting beside him, a dancing sword laying across her lap. The dark brown eyes of the female looked at the weapon with a meticulous kind of scrutinizing gaze. Her gloved hands slowly dragged its way from the hilt down the sharp blade. Her expression was calm as her hand held the grip in a firm grip. The yokai reached to her side, picking up a cloth and started to carefully clean every little speck found on said blade. Her kimono was detailed in a way that depicted both her natural elegance and the storm of her personality.
Her kimono was a shade of verdure green that was a near compliment to the way her dark brown eyes pierced the soul, a color just as scrutinizing yet mesmirizing and tantalizing. The story of the birth of Inazumas islands was told amongst the fabric, the darker threads the same color as a summers green glass. It showed the nations Sakura Tree on the front side, lighter green shades to symbolize the falling of petals as it always occurred during the spring time. A beautiful pattern with a blue fade of wind like motifs to decorate the petals as she moves, the wind seeming to be apart of the kimono itself. Her obi was a deep shade of blue, the kind of blue you see at the depths of the ocean. And amongst the sea blue was the design of a sea of clouds amongst the heavens. The beautiful white threads of clouds of the night mixed with its sea counterpart is truly a beautiful combination.
A simple and plain white dress with a frill at the end was worn underneath the heavy turquoise kimono. The material is as light as a gentle snowfall, airy enough to provide ample ventilation to keep the female's temperature in check and to prevent much overheating. It was something that was interesting the puppet seeing as how that pure white never once seemed to have grown muddy or dirty..is that how much grace the spirit has perhaps?
The way her hair is styled, there’s a side where a bunch of hair had become just bunched like a pile of leaves. It was messy yet there was an air of refinement to the way it looked. Beautiful blooms of Sakuras, Dendrobiums, Sweet Flowers and even those purple blooms found on Seirai island were discovered amongst that ring of flowers which helped hold up the bunch of hair. How? Perhaps some magic. Maybe. Kunikuzushi didn’t know. Horns of tree brown sprouts from her head, beneath curly locks of spring green with the thunder sakuras blooming from the branches. She is nature’s beauty.
Mao is heaven, earth and the sea, a spirit of nature with free will as much as she is controlled. Yet it never appeared that way. Not once has it appeared as that but you could see with the way her the ends the bow flows behind her that the green haired female truly didn't belong to anyone and yet she followed the wind. The wind adored her as much as it adored the birds, just as flowers smelled sweeter when she graced their presence. As such, the First Spirit of Inazuma should be the one to house all aspects of the nation. She is the One who Inazuma was inspired by. The yokai is firm and soft, gentle and merciless, cruel and forgiving. As nature is. As who she became.
“Is that so? While I do not mind that, focus on the task at hand Kuzu, that doll of yours is a gift. Don't lose your focus on creating something precious for that boy.” Mao replied in short, her gaze never lifting up from her own task. How amazing it was for the yokai to pay attention to the task yet able to state a stern remark. As expected of such an individual. Her gaze had indeed, however, flitted over to the divine creation then at the doll back in its hands. “Check the river again.” the green haired female added.
Kunikuzushi frowned at the words spoken by the tall female, scooting closer to the edge of the bank. While the words were harsh for it to face, there's still a gentleness of sorts behind the harsh exterior. The divine creation was at first, unable to determine whether or not the harshness was intentional or not. But as the time they spent together grew longer, the seasons changed, the trust that had been so brutally broken was now slowly repairing itself. Given nearly a century had indeed passed, it was enough for relations to mend with oneself and with the world around. To discover that the world itself runs in its way. Death and life are necessities just as love and hate can not exist without one another. One existence can not be purely its own. There must be a check in its balance. Kunikuzushi would have taken too long to learn this had it not been for Maos help. If it were not for the yokai, death would have been the only side known to the puppet. No love. No life. Nor morality without immortality. Perhaps..that was a kindness in itself.
As the divine being stared into the water, it reflected the innocent expression of the puppet. Doe-like purple eyes, the color of the thunder that reflected the powers of Inazumas archon stared back. Slanted bangs, an equal shade of purple was in a relatively straight line across his forehead. The side bangs framed its face nicely, an almost divine gaze staring back. But it knew better than to accept such mundane words. Not a divine being nor mortal. A puppet. But a puppet that held emotions and a soul so fragile and wonderful at the same time. A soul that was faced with betrayal at the hands of a god but saved by a spirit just as divine as the woman he had once called mother. An ironic twist of fate really. Created to carry a gnosis but has learned how to dance instead. Created to rule yet chose to serve. Created to be eternal but learned how to be mortal. Irony in fate is never of its own accord, but to choose how to live in the way that was freely thought. If Ei could see her creation now, she would be sorely disappointed. Not that it mattered. Not when life was much better living as mundane as such.
Upon the second glance in the river, Kunikuzushi noted why his mentor had said to look in the mirror again. Glancing back down at the little doll, it frowned. A mistake. Not that it was intentional, rather something careless. Sighing, an edge of frustration, the puppets mouth curled downwards into a frown. One of the eyes of this doll was lopsided. Did it have to start over? Did it need to…undo all of its progress just to fix this one eye? When taught to sew, it wasn't quite as easy as the Kodama had made it out to be. While its fingers were dainty and nimble enough to thread the needle, it was still untrained in the delicate art. How could such a thing be done so effortlessly and so..gracefully? The way the puppet did it was always so scrutinizingly slow and deliberate, never once wishing to keep a single stitch be too tight, too loose, or too far apart or too close to each other. It's a slow process, one that requires patience and careful attention. Attention the puppet was glad to give for every act you do, matters in some way. Be it a gift for someone dear to you or a simple act of servitude. Something that it had to engrave into the faux soul and brain it had. Fake. hah. Mao would disagree. Her opinions…are always so strong and full of unwavering will that made going against her so hard to do.
It appears the disdain towards the mistake was shown all over the puppets face because there was a hand blocking the reflection in the water. The creation lifted its head in slight shock, purple eyes meeting unreadable brown. Confusion. When the wind blew one way and another wind came to meet it, causing a little burst of air to spawn. That's what Mao had described it to be like…it's what it felt. The little burst..two conflicting forces meeting and causing something unknown to happen that makes a reaction happen. The gloved hand didn't leave and it was with a realization that Kunikuzushi hesitantly placed the doll and needle into the outstretched hand. Reluctant to part with it because that was its work and to allow another to take it without even giving proper attention and care for it was the same sickening and emptiness feeling inside its own chest and-
“Kuzu. look up.” Mao said calmly, her eyes staring deep into the flurry of a storm inside the divine creations eyes. The puppet startled, swallowed and turned its head.
And what Kunikuzushi saw made the negativity be replaced with awe and wonder. Beautiful pinks of all shades seemed to have appeared out of nowhere from the sky. A shower of petals, delicate petals, coated with a minute trace of electro power. Thunder sakuras. The sight of beauty, a symbol of pride and safety for the nation of eternity. A sign that the winter was ending.
The spirit took that chance to bring the doll close to her, cloth laying upon the polished sword. Hm. irony at its finest now that the yokai thought about it.
This doll was crafted by a puppet that acted as a mere child and yet the seams were nearly as flawless as a master seamstress. Irony indeed. But given how the child-like puppets' eyes were filled with childlike awe at the sight of the thunder sakuras falling from the top of the Narukami Shrine, Maos deduction was not far off at all. A child. One abandoned by a god, receiving a title from the puppet in the form of mother. Tch. What a disgrace if that little one thought of such a neglectful god to be any form or shape as a mother. A yokai she may be but spending enough time observing mortals and their odd concepts of family, it was evident to see what a proper mother is. And that god was far from one. It was disgusting. Even the mortals had a better concept of death than an omnipotent being. Hah. disgraceful indeed. But they need not know that. Still, the spirit couldn't help but gaze upon the puppet child.
The way those purple eyes were blown wide, mouth open in awe as it looked at the blossoms. Winter was ending and that meant spring was due for a return home. One of its telltale signs was the Thunder Sakura tree at the Great Narukami Shrine. Come every spring, it's blossoms will fall and bathe the nation of eternity in soft pink as the wind seems to have softened in anticipation. One of the very few times where the storms rarely broke and Inazuma has a day of peace for its arrival of spring. A beautiful show seen by every single citizen on every island for centuries to come. But the best spot is always on Narukami Island, precisely where they are now. If its intentional for the yokai to suggest to reside here at a stream where said shrine is visible for their day out together, the puppet will never know. Not that he would ask. Their trust…was far stronger than it was with that god.
“Mao-san look at me!”
The green haired female lifted her head up from the doll, her brown eyes meeting a sight too innocent and pure. Kunikuzushi was the name the puppet chose itself. A destroyer of nations was the namesake it chose. And yet with the innocence in its eyes, the way the manifestation of hope swirled within that gem of amethyst. The way the thunder sakuras seemed to have fallen all over them in a gentle shower of warmth and innocent love. The bright smile that adorned its face with a gentleness of a snowflake touching the ground, the sunset pink petals making a mess of its ruffled purple hair. A child. A pure child that had yet to be corrupted by the evils that plague this world. Mao didnt know what had come over her in that moment but all she registered was a yelp coming from the puppet as it was brought into her arms.
Side hugging this puppet with her sword in her lap was uncomfortable but thankfully the blade was pointed away. A hand came to rest on the back of Kunikuzushis head, the other on his lower back. She could sense confusion but her hold on this precious jewel only tightened. The child was tense for a moment…eventually it slowly relaxed in the yokais arms. Arms slowly came under her own arms, holding the spirits shoulders as his head was buried into her chest. Mao let her eyes close as she just held this child in her arms. Perhaps…those mothers she had seen in those villages rubbed off on her because there was an overwhelming urge to shield this child from the pain this world served on a daily basis for as long as she could. The yokai knew eternity in peace is but a pure and weak hearted dream but in this instance, perhaps such a dream isn't as naive as Mao once deemed it to be.
Dreams like that aren't based in innocence or naivety, but out of deep love. For a moment, the mortals would wish they could stop a moment in time forever and Mao never quite got why they would wish for such an impossible thing. But now…the Kodama understood why. When she saw Kunikuzushi in that moment, innocent and warm, not yet closed off, it was something she wished desperately to keep. To allow him to smile that way over and over again. No more pain to handle. No more despair. No more sadness or betrayal. Those mortals understood this better than the green haired female gave them credit for.
“Kunikuzushi.” the yokai whispered, her hands gently rubbing the back of his head and back.
Kunikuzushi swallowed because it's savior rarely ever used the full name so this meant something big. Whatever she was going to say. It didn't matter in any case for the divine being would hang onto whatever words that would be said. No matter what it was, the puppet child had vowed to follow the spirit for she showed him a different kind of eternity, a better vision for the future. The taller of the two pulled away slowly, a hand coming to gently hold the small beings cheek. “As long as I can wield a sword, I will never allow you to be harmed ever again. Do you trust in that?”
Yes. Kunikuzushi trusted those words of hers. It was quick to hug the female again, head resting on the chest of the spirit. Eyes closed and this time, when it shed tears, there was no fear or worries of being abandoned. Even if the dream it had was so caring and warmer than the sun, the emotions it shed need not be hidden under a veil. It was free to feel just as the wind goes wherever it flows. the heart it once craved had never meant to be a Gnosis. Its heart was always there, hidden under the lies it built to protect the chest so delicate. But now, with Mao, the chest was filled with something even lighter than divinity. It was warmer than the sun. it was more lively than those kids in the villages. This feeling when held by the yokai, when she promised words that she could back up, when she sheltered him, when she had taken those nightmares away and replaced it with dreams, when she taught him the world for his own curiosity, for when she wielded that sword to fight against enemies for its safety. It didnt know then, but now it knows. It belonged. Kunikuzushi belonged with Mao.
“I trust you…mother.” the puppet, no, the son of a tree spirit said with an accepting smile, the Thunder Sakuras around them bearing witness to a life being created.
O~0~o
Alas, a crow also bore witness to this exchange. Its golden eyes staring at the two figures in an embrace beside the river. And in a lofty abode that overwatched the entirety of the nation, inside the grand palace of divine ruling, inside the main room and to the shiragana like gates in the back, to a plane of existence that none new except for her, resided a lone figure meditating. She watched through her crows eyes and witnessed the exchange.
Mother. She never thought she would have such contempt for a title like that being aimed at another when it was her own right to her puppet. But the voice inside that spoke of guilt and reason knew that such a name to be spoken with love was never going to be hers. Not when she abandoned the child. That title was never something that would suit her but..that yokai suited it perfectly. She took better care of the puppet, more than she ever could. Ei had lost her chance to be a mother.
But if her creation was in the care of the individual who managed to make it smile and be more relaxed than it ever was in her presence, than there is no reason to fear.
“Mao, protect him, please.” Ei whispered as she cut off contact with the mortal realm, never again to communicate with them.