Chapter Text
When the bullet pierced his skull, Okinaga Kunihito heard a penetrating ringing in his ears that seemed to numb all his senses.
He still had half a mind to process the situation and the fact he'd been shot, that someone might have betrayed him and thus the Okinaga-gumi, but these thoughts grew further away as the seconds passed.
The bullet felt dull inside his skull, seemingly stuck at the tip of his brain.
Then, as if waves crashed over him, he saw a sea of white.
Was this death? Kunihito wondered.
Kunihito was ready to thank God for this blessing of a painless death, while also asking for forgiveness and mercy on his son Zenya who would now be an orphan at such a young age.
Was this Kunihito's sin? Could it be a bad omen for his yet infant son?
“—..!”
The ringing in his ears intensified, as if a million voices were screaming and screeching right into Kunihito's eardrums.
..Wait, these really were voices.
They sounded muffled to Kunihito at first, but then began resounding clearer and clearer.
The oracle had spoken, and the truth was spilled into Kunihito's conscious by a million resentful tongues.
—For years beyond counting, we have lived in hiding and solitude.
—Disavowed from existence, expelled from the world of Man.
—Even so, we wished but to live.
—Denied human form, we struggled to survive.
—Can you even begin to understand our suffering?
..Understand? What were these voices on about? If God had forsaken them, then Kunihito faithfully believes in His choice and command.
—We were abandoned by Him.
—Made to crawl in the dirt, and scorned by Man He made in His image.
—Even when we once walked alongside Man ourselves.
—Now, we are rejected by even the lowest among you.
Kunihito could have almost begun to sympathise. There was admiration to be held in this ardent struggle for survival even after suffering such exile and humiliation. But this situation was simply absurd. Why was he bothering listening to them? And either way, the voices said so themselves, they had been cast away by God. Who was he to judge God's will? That would be heresy.
—Your family has long supported us.
—Okinaga Kunitoyo, protected the Purebreed, your Benefactor Onnushi-sama, from the heretics who sought his demise.
—Onnushi-sama who had offered His holy flesh to His devoted, bestowing His blessing upon them, allowing for us to live on.
—You have forgotten, willfully blinded, and betrayed us.
—You shall now pay the price.
—Feel our anguish and fury, for standing with he who has forsaken us.
—This is a trial.
Okinaga Kunitoyo..? That was Kunihito's uncle. How could these odd voices even know this? And, the Purebreed? Benefactor? Holy flesh? Kunihito couldn't wrap his head around what he was hearing. He didn't understand.
Was he hallucinating before death? Was this a trial of faith?
Then, as suddenly as it first came, a flash of white light blinded Kunihito once again.
“—...Haah..!” Kunihito awoke with a gasp.
“..! Oyaji..!”
Kunihito turned his head to the side to see his subordinate Kitani Kouhei's relieved face. In the motion, Kunihito's eyes did a scan of the room: he was in a hospital room. A trusted hospital under his jurisdiction, of course.
Kitani briefed Kunihito on his current situation. When the bullet collided with his skull, Kunihito was first assumed to be as good as dead. He lay in a coma for some weeks before his waking up today, having been stable after operation. The fact he survived had to be proof of his resilience. Kunihito's mind wandered to the voices he heard earlier, and wondered if his survival in itself was a trial.
Contrary to Kitani's expectations, Kunihito did not seem to care about the details of the shooting. It seemed his boss’ mind was somewhere else. Still, Kitani let him know that the matter was still under investigation, apologising for his incompetence.
Despite Kunihito's sudden waking today, as his condition was stable (except for a dull constant headache), Kitani felt a little less apprehensive at his boss’ immediate order for discharge. But despite his worries, it was not like Kitani could protest against his boss’ commands.
Kunihito had finished changing out of his hospital clothes, closing the door behind him as he exited his hospital room onto the lobby where Kitani was waiting for him.
“I have an errand to run, don't follow me.” Kunihito sped up his step and left the hospital.
Oyaji..? Kitani's eyes followed him with that hanging question, but he stayed rooted in place. He wondered if Kunihito wanted to look into who shot him personally, or if his preoccupations were elsewhere.
Okinaga Kunihito was still a kumicho of the Okinaga-gumi, his authority would not be easily challenged. And he trusted Kitani enough to know he was at least the one subordinate who would never betray him, no matter what.
For now, more than anything else, Kunihito had to look into his uncle's involvement with these strange voices he heard. So he went to a place where he knew some of his uncle's belongings were stored.
The room was old and dusty, being used as abandoned storage, not maintained. It was one of the rooms of an unused chapel. Kunihito would secretly come here to pray. Not many were privy to this location, and only direct Okinaga family members knew about it, though not many cared to come here.
Kunihito was looking around the dark room, searching for some clue or document relating to this...Benefactor...his uncle apparently saved.
His leg bumped into something hard, resounding with a metallic clang. Kunihito looked down at it: it was a large chest. He crouched down.
Upon closer look, an insignia was drawn on it. It appeared to be.. a two-headed snake, with crescent-like shapes centered around a black cross with a white line in the middle. His mind thought to the biblical snake that led Adam and Eve into the original sin. Whatever this was, it was sure to be anti-Christian, a worship of the crawling snake who was the symbol of evil. This seemed fitting for what the voices told him.
Opening the chest, Kunihito found a leather-bound notebook. It was a diary signed with his uncle's name, plain and clear: Okinaga Kunitoyo, Showa 4.
Early Showa Era? That was before Kunihito was born. Even his uncle would have still been a child at the time. What was so important for him to record at that age that he conserved this notebook, obviously well-preserved? Kunihito skimmed through the pages and saw that it was written over multiple years, but the year this notebook was first used was clear. He went back to the first page and started reading in earnest.
Kunihito's grip on the notebook tightened. The contents of his uncle's diary shook him to his core. It was like opening Pandora's box, uncovering and unleashing forbidden knowledge, a mind-boggling truth.
What.. even was this..?
In all the years he's known his uncle, Kunihito had not an inkling about any of this. It sounded so.. bizarre, wrong . Something that should not exist. And yet, it was as if this information scratched at a buried part of his memory. Some childhood memory of going to the chapel with his uncle.
Kunihito finds a small folded map near the end of the diary, sometime before his uncle's death, as the date indicates. This map was dedicated to his descendents, with a mark indicating where the “Benefactor” was being kept. He crumples the paper into his pocket, ashamed of his shaking hands. Then, he heads further down into the chapel basement.
The room was dark and damp with humidity. Kunihito's headache throbbed painfully, and he could hear a faint ringing start up in his ears again. An aftermath of the shock to his skull, most probably. He couldn't let it distract him.
There was no light switch, considering how old this basement might be. Kunihito spotted some candles, and pulled out his lighter to them, illuminating the room in swift motions.
Kunihito froze in his spot. The room was red, whether from the stone itself or potential blood stains.
As if triggered by something, a howling wind shook the candlelight despite it being underground. Was there an opening in the wall somewhere?
What shocked Kunihito most of all was what stood at the center of the room. It was.. how could he even describe it? It was a giant lump of.. meat, partially wrapped in cloth. It looked to be.. pulsating. Kunihito thought it might be a trick of the dancing candlelight, but he became increasingly sure it was the meat lump itself that moved like so, as if it was alive, mimicking breathing or a beating heart.
Kunihito walked closer, his steps slow. He raised a shaky hand to touch the meat lump.
Whoosh. The candlelight snuffed out just as white enveloped Kunihito's vision once again. No.. not just white. Now, red was mixed in, splatters of blood tainting the remaining light of ignorance.
Images flashed rapidly in his mind of distant childhood memories. This chapel. This basement. His uncle's voice. Onnushi-sama..
The ringing in Kunihito's ears and the pain in his skull rose sharply until they both reached a sudden stop. Then, somewhat expecting it, the voices started to speak to him again.
—Forced to live in hiding, holding onto Our anguish and resentment.
—Made to crawl in the dirt, the sky forever out of reach…
—Still, We struggled to survive. We only wished to live.
Kunihito can start feeling himself well up with emotion. Why hadn't he listened? This sorrowful tale.. he begins to understand Them now.
—You have strayed too far by siding with him against Us and can no longer be a Host.
—Your erroneous faith has caused the death of your Residual. It died so that your chosen flesh could survive.
—Repent for your sins by begging for Onnushi-sama's forgiveness and aid in His resurrection.
—Only by sacrificing a Female will your family's Onnushi-sama return to His former glory.
“—Haaahgh..!” Kunihito wailed as he was suddenly thrust back into reality just as he was first swept away from it.
His breathing was rough, and tears he hadn't noticed fall had dried up on his cheeks. In the sudden commotion, he seemed to have moved to a kneeling position in front of the altar where his Onnushi-sama was placed.
He heard crawling around him. Looking around, the room was bubbling with pulsating lumps of meat. Kunihito almost forgot to blink.
Quickly turning his head back to Onnushi-sama, Kunihito crossed his hands together and bowed his head.
“I beg of you! Forgive this foolish ignorant man! I had forgotten! I had forgotten the grace of knowing of your existence!” Kunihito's shoulders were shaking in genuine awe and fear.
A violent wind howled, and the candlelight fluttered aggressively.
“Heeeeh!!” Kunihito whimpered, clasping his hands tighter. Tears almost welled in his eyes again. A stark difference from the man he was minutes prior.
“Please! Ease your fury! I will never forget again! I will devote the rest of my life to Onnushi-sama's resurrection! I will give my life to aid and serve Onnushi-sama—..!!”
Kunihito's throat was raw from his ceaseless begging and pleading, which went on for some while more. His body was still shaking as he got up from his kneeling position thereafter, struggling to stand straight. His gaze circled the room: the small meat lumps he saw earlier were gone.
Kunihito climbs the stairs back up, heading towards the chapel’s entrance.
When he exits through the door, sunrise was approaching. He had spent the whole evening and night inside the chapel. This peak of red light soon enveloped his vision, rapidly swallowing the night sky. The colour red.. like that of blood, like that of flesh..
Kunihito felt restless, he had to do something. He couldn't sit idly after this. He had to do something. He fidgeted with the piece of Onnushi-sama's holy flesh that was stuffed in his pocket. Kunihito had remembered the passage in his uncle's diary about Onnushi-sama anointing His worshippers with His holy flesh through ingestion. Kunihito himself was no longer fit to be a Host, he couldn't betray Onnushi-sama and go against His will but… maybe Zenya had a chance.
Kunihito's son was but a young toddler, barely a year of age. If he receives Onnushi-sama's gift at such a young age, his body was sure to adapt and mutate with ease. Zenya would be able to right Kunihito's wrongs all these years.
Yes, he was sure of it, Zenya would be fit to receive this blessing.
Unfortunately for Kunihito, his sudden long disappearance after waking up from his coma had stirred some unease. Completely preoccupied with his visions and his current goal of repentance, he had minutely forgotten about his position as a yakuza kumicho along with the shooting incident. He was busy all day with the proceedings of his fate within the Okinaga-gumi.
Kunihito's current behavior was met with odd stares, and his position within the Okinaga-gumi was to be forsaken. Kunihito barely had half a mind to care about this, he needed to get to Zenya quickly. In the end, Kitani had taken responsibility over the current matter, giving up a pinky in order to stay by Kunihito and thus losing his own status in the Okinaga-gumi. Kunihito briefly thought he made a good choice saving this child, who was now a man unwaveringly loyal to him.
After a long day, Kunihito finally returned home in the evening. He was to move to another location soon.
He walked with slow but purposeful steps down the hall, and opened an old sliding door with a creaky swoosh.
The room where Zenya slept was quiet. He was a usually rowdy child, hardly falling asleep and often waking up during the night. His mother had passed giving birth to him, so he had different caretakers look after him. Kitani seemed at the ready to fulfill that role whenever he was free, which wasn't that often. That would likely change soon.
So, the fact his son was sleeping so soundly in this moment was somewhat surprising to Kunihito. Maybe he was behaving knowing he would be blessed today.
Kunihito approached the baby's cradle, his free hand clasping the edge of it with a light creak. At the small motion, Zenya's sleeping face frowned, a fitting reaction for such a particular child. Kunihito sometimes wondered if his son had a natural-born yakuza attitude. The infant muttered some intelligible babbling before his expression settled once more, breathing softly through a slightly opened mouth.
Kunihito seized the piece of Onnushi-sama's holy flesh out of his pocket. His hands were shaking in anticipation, his clothes drenched with sweat. Yes, Zenya would be blessed like this.
Leaning over the cradle, he gestured the piece of meat towards Zenya's open mouth, prying the toddler's mouth open further to feed him this divine ichor.
At first, Zenya had struggled. This foreign substance, the disgusting taste and fowl smell of rotten flesh, had left the child choking in alarm. His body was rejecting the incoming danger.
At this, Kunihito frowned, pushing Onnushi-sama's holy flesh further into Zenya's gullet. This was a blessing. A gift. Zenya had to accept it. Not only was it rude, it was pure betrayal to reject Onnushi-sama's generosity. You get to have this, Zen. You'll get to experience being a Host. You'll be able to feel the holy blessing living inside of you. So accept it, your life will improve with this blessing.
After some more struggle, Kunihito successfully witnessed Zenya swallow the lump of meat. The child coughed some more, tears in his eyes, before settling down again. Kunihito was overjoyed. Yes, this was the right course. This was the correct choice. His son would live with this blessing, he would witness a far better future than by living as a detested human. Had Kunihito's eyes not been opened by Onnushi-sama's kindness, he would have doomed Zenya to such a cruel fate. No, this was definitely for the better.
Zenya would be thankful for this blessing as he grew and his body underwent its changes, adjusting to his Inner Being. Overlooking his son with affection and pride, Kunihito stood by the cradle some more, watching Zenya's sleeping form. Then, he was slightly surprised to hear it: bells in the distance. Oh, it was Yuuyake Koyake, indicating 5pm. The setting sun finished its journey down the horizon.
From the doorway, Kitani felt something churn in his stomach. He didn't know what he had just witnessed. Something was wrong. Something had been wrong since Oyaji woke up from the coma, but he could not tell what it was. Kitani left before Kunihito could turn around.
If, later that evening, anyone had heard Zenya's pained cries from his room, no one had come to check on the child. No one could hear him, rather. That night, the 5pm bells had sounded for longer than usual, drowning out all sound.