Work Text:
The arrow had gone into the deer's neck smoothly, cleanly. It was far more difficult to remove. While Yukari was glad she'd gotten the archer's blessing, dealing with getting arrowheads out of bodies was a lot more difficult than she was expecting. Next time they were in town, she'd have to get some of those arrows with the slim tips, rather than the usual flared ones. Her bow packed enough punch that they'd hit wild game just fine, but it hopefully wouldn't be so much of a hassle to get them out afterward.
To Yukari's surprise, Mitsuru knew how to butcher animals. She'd barely had time to let the deer carcass finish bleeding before Mitsuru was there, knife in hand, cutting the skin from the meat. Deer pelts weren't in high demand, but any skins were sought-after when winter would be rolling around soon. They'd have to dry it, and it could fetch them a decent bit of coin. She promptly dug out the organs, taking and burying them far from their camp while she gave Yukari detailed instructions on how to cut up the remaining meat, as if she'd never had to hunt in her life.
Perhaps it would be demeaning, if Mitsuru weren't some ageless goddess in mortal form. Those untold years of wisdom had paid off tenfold as they traveled. She had a keen eye for thieves and scammers, and could identify what the ancient symbols on magical artifacts meant. Unlike her bright red hair would suggest, Mitsuru wielded the power of frost, casting spells just like a mage, but without reciting any incantations. So, Yukari could hardly complain. Mitsuru more than carried her own weight, despite all her reservations of the goddess.
She was also sitting right beside Yukari, quietly sipping on their meal for the night - venison stew. Yukari tried to focus on her food, biting hard into the gamey meat whenever her eyes went to stray toward Mitsuru, but she couldn't help herself. In two months of travel, she still hadn't gotten used to the presence of divinity casually sitting beside her. A part of her was still waiting for Mitsuru's retribution, repayment for the years of her childhood Yukari spent slandering her good name, but it never came. The reason why remained a mystery.
"This stew is quite delicious," Mitsuru said out of nowhere. Yukari went rigid where she sat. "It's quite different from my usual offerings." Right, as a goddess, she must've been used to fine banquets with rich meat, the freshest of fruits and all manner of sweets. Venison stew must've been barely palatable in comparison, especially when they were so pressed for spices.. "It's such a shame, too, as I was once worshipped as a goddess of the hunt. The people began to treat me as they once did my father some time ago." Yukari looked up at that.
"Your... father?" she repeated. Could divinity have parents? Yukari had always assumed that gods and goddesses were born into the ether of the cosmos, fully formed and of no heritage, with their abilities and domains already laid out before them. She just couldn't picture that ephemeral visage of Mitsuru that she'd seen in that cathedral when they'd first met as a tiny baby with rolling flames for hair and a bellowing gale for a voice. Mitsuru smiled forlornly, distant and sad. Yukari felt her stomach sink. That look never boded well.
"He was God King of these eastern lands long, long ago," Mitsuru explained. "According to the stories, he was struck down by a mortal centuries ago, and his name has since been lost to time." Yukari wasn't sure what stories Mitsuru was referencing, but she'd certainly never heard of them. She could vaguely recall old tales of a God King, but nothing specific. His devotees had dwindled down to nothing. "But, I remember it. I was only a child when he... When he..." Yukari reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder before she could think better of it.
"I understand," she murmured. Mitsuru swallowed, nodding, her eyes darting away and suspiciously shiny. So, Mitsuru had lost her father, too? Was that why one of her domains was family? There Yukari had been, disparaging the great goddess Mitsuru for not saving her dad, and the entire time, Mitsuru had understood her pain better than anyone else. Bile rose in the back of her throat. "What was his name?" Yukari asked softly.
"Takeharu," she answered. "His domains were community, wealth and hunting." Mitsuru looked down into her bowl of stew. "I was quite young when it happened. He'd given me reign over his domain of hunting, but after his passing, I came into my own domain of family, and that's what the people seemed to prefer." She looked up at Yukari, a wan smile on her face. "Under his rule, you never would've had to know ridicule or hardship. But the bonds of community have broken down in the years he's been forgotten."
Yukari tried to picture it. She imagined her old neighbors in the village she grew up in. Their pitying or scornful faces warped into kindness and charity. What would her life have been like, if she'd grown up under such a rule? Would the other villagers offer she and her mother pelts and woven blankets in the cold months? Would they readily share food, go out of their way to check in on them? Would the village kids have been nicer? It was difficult to imagine, but a part of Yukari yearned for that world that could never be.
It was harder to picture her mother happily widowed. She'd loved dad with all her heart, but she threw herself onto guy after guy in the wake of his death. The goddess Mitsuru showed favor to families, as everyone knew. But after having spent time around her, Yukari had to wonder if Mitsuru actually prioritized being wed and having children, or if she presided over families of all kinds, blood-relations or not, married or not.
"...I'm sorry for your loss," she said at last. "Whoever it was that hurt your father, I hope they've suffered for it. If he would've been able to prevent others from going through what I did as a kid..." She shook her head. "I guess it doesn't matter. Too late for that now. Still, just... know that I get it. I really do." For the first time that night, Yukari looked straight into Mitsuru's eyes, the deep crimson of her irises glinting off the light of the fire like the finest of rubies.
"Thank you. That means a lot to me," Mitsuru told her. She reached and put her hand over Yukari's, which she'd forgotten was still on the goddess' shoulder. Her face grew warm, but she didn't dare try and retract her hand. Turning back to her stew, she endeavored to finish it one-handed. It didn't help that she could see Mitsuru in the corner of her vision, resuming her own eating with a gentle smile on her face, her cheeks rosy.
Was she... blushing? The thought was so crazy that she only entertained it for a second, but that was all it took for it to worm its way into Yukari's brain. Her own face grew warmer. There was no way. No goddess would ever blush around Yukari, except maybe a goddess of lust or something. Mitsuru in particular wouldn't, not after Yukari's disrespect. But what kind of hypocrite did it make her, for some kernel of herself to yearn for that red face to be on her account? The worst kind, without a doubt.
They finished their food in silence, broken up by the crackling logs and the leaves whispering in the wind. Neither of them made any move to pull away from each other. Mitsuru's hand over her own was firm, but by no means crushing. She wasn't forcing Yukari to keep her hand on her shoulder. Really, it would've been easier if she moved it. But she couldn't bring herself to. It was too difficult to give up that invasive idea that, perhaps, the goddess enjoyed her company, sought her gaze and touch. Blasphemous thoughts, Yukari knew. But, then again, she'd never been very religious.