I followed the sounds, curious to see what our power had achieved. I travelled back through the air, heading inland. Muddied water ran across the remains of fields; ripped trees lay bare, their roots fanned in the wind. Destruction wrought the lands, nothing could stop the sea, nothing could stop me.
A call. A scream for help.
I turned to its source, a woman clinging onto a broken fence jammed between two trees which held to the land with all their might.
“Help me,” she cried, scrambling to stay afloat.
I stared at her, fingers digging, clawing onto anything for safety. The cold water sapped her energy. She would not last long at all.
She should know our name. Beg us for life.
“Please, whoever you are, save me.”
I paused. She saw me even from here? I moved closer, watching carefully. Black long hair stuck fast to bared skin, her kimono long gone and ripped from her body. Fear pooled in her wild eyes, begging for rescue.
I did this.
We did this.
Silence. Her exhausted body unable to hold on any longer. She slipped under the fierce currents in the blink of an eye.
Another feeling clawed inside of me, chewing me up and sending shudders up my spine. I couldn’t watch any longer. Diving into the turbulent water, I sensed for the last drop of life being pushed and pulled around. Nothing. She was out of my reach, out of my control.
No! I am god of the seas! Water, send her body to me.
The currents changed, swirled back and forth, receding until I stood ankle deep in mud, and a body floated on the remainder of water. I waded through the thick mud until I stood before her, hoping it wasn’t too late, but her breath was still and her lips were blue like a blooming chrysanthemum.
I did this.
We did this.
I scooped her lifeless body into my arms and pushed away from the land until we flew through the sky. Further and further, I scanned for land where the water did not touch. Drowned fields filled the landscape, broken houses, submerged shrines. I’d done everything we’d hoped to achieve but… it did not feel right.
Nearby, a small mountain climbed out of the water, defying my power, but providing the safety I needed. Darkness shrouded us from view as we travelled and lowered into the sparse landscape below. I stopped us on a grassy ridge overlooking the lands, placing her down gently. But she didn’t awaken. I removed my blue haori and wrapped it around her naked body.
“You can awaken now, you are safe.”
Silence.
Your naivety knows no bounds, stupid Susanoo. She won’t awaken, never again.
She’s dead? But…
What did you expect? You are just like a kappa! You drowned them all! How many villages just lost their lives because of you?
Me? But…
It wasn’t my power that stole their breath.
Pain lanced my chest. My Ara-Mitama clawed at anything she could, eager for a final escape, to silence my Nigi-Mitama and control me completely. She had tricked me!
“No more death.” I growled. “No more water. Recede back to the oceans, be still and calm once more.”
I needed to fix everything. What would my brother say if he saw? Had he already seen the destruction? Would he even help me if I asked for his help?
Taking the hand of the dead lady, I sent forth my energy, trying all I could to revive her. I wasn’t sure if my abilities would work like this, but, I had to try. Anything to bring her back to life. I couldn’t save them all but maybe I could save her. After a few moments warmth flooded her body once more, and her tired muscles continued to work. A sigh, a cough, and she rolled over, spitting up dirty sea water.
“Are you hurt anywhere?” I asked, ready to try and heal again.
Her eyes widened, registering her state of undress and my presence, and she pulled the haori tighter around her body.
“Where am I?”
“Away from all the water, you are safe now.”
Laying back down on the grass, she curled up; I could sense exhaustion from her small body.
You should make her beg for saving her!
“Thank you,” she said feebly. “But what of my family? Did you rescue any others?”
“No,” I said quietly. “Just you.”
“Only me?” She let out an anguished cry and buried her face in her hands. “What did I do to deserve this?”
You’ve learnt the power of Susanoo now. You should be thankful.
I frowned.
They won’t defy us now. A laugh erupted from my Ara-Mitama and I tried to ignore it.
“Nothing,” I said, hollow. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Guilt pulled at the fibres of my heart. What had I done?
I stood up. “I should go and look for others.”
“And leave me alone?” The woman scrambled over, hands grabbing at my legs. “Don’t leave me alone in this dark place.”
I couldn’t stay here, I had to go do something to help. To make up for all I’d done.
I looked to the skies, to where the moon hung brightly. “Tsukuyomi,” I called. “Hear me. Please.”
“You call for the gods? They sent this, why would they help?” The woman held on tighter, the haori slipping back open. “I prayed for help and even more water came.”
Soft moonlight spilt over the grass in front of me and grew brighter, wider. I turned to see a pair of red sandals setting down gently. He was clothed in a black kimono and silver obi, simple but beautiful. The woman’s eyes widened and she bowed immediately.
“Susanoo.”
His voice held a presence I’d not heard since my father’s voice. I flinched, unable to look at him any longer. He had to know what I’d done.
“You should have called me earlier, before all this,” he said sternly.
“I know,” I admitted. “There are many things I wish to speak to you about. But this woman doesn’t want to be alone. I rescued her, brought her back to life, and I cannot stay here while others need my help.”
Tsukuyomi knelt down in the grass and lightly touched her head. A red kimono bloomed upon her skin, covering her bare skin in finery.
She gasped, marvelling the fine material. “What? I cannot accept this—”
“A blessing,” Tsukuyomi said. “A beautiful woman such as yourself should only wear the best in my moonlight.”
“Thank you, thank you,” she cried, bowing once again.
I bowed my head to my brother. “Thank you... brother.”
Black eyes stared into me, past my own, deep into where my Ara-Mitama lay, angry and howling for an escape.
“You are incomplete, brother,” he said, voice betrayed a sliver of anger. “Leave this place and pacify your Ara-Mitama. No more should suffer because of you.”
I stared at the ground, admonished. I nodded. “But what of—”
“I will do what I can. Amaterasu will dry the lands with her light.”
“She will be angry…”
“As she should,” Tsukuyomi hissed. “Now go.”
The guilt pulled deep within me. How many had died this night because of me? I didn’t want to face my sister either, when she awoke to light up the world.
Leaving them both behind, I hurried away, running down the mountainside. Maybe the gods couldn’t see me if I stayed on the ground. Branches clawed at my kimono and pulled at my hair until both hung loose, flapping in the wind. I kept running further through muddy fields and waterlogged roads until my feet sunk deep into sand. The seawater was returning to the ocean now, receding further and further as I had told it. I stared into the dark waters. There was one place I could go, where my brother and sister couldn’t see, where the humans wouldn’t notice my absence, and I could take my Ara-Mitama away from them all. The Dragon Palace. Down in the murky depths lay the radiant palace made of rainbow shells, graced by the beautiful Oto-hime. I would ask her for permission to stay, and not return to the surface until I was whole again.
I wasn’t quite sure where the palace lay in the seas, as I’d never been before, but I could feel its presence. I would keep looking until I found it. I owed it to everyone. And then when I returned I would bless all those who needed it; I’d bring fish for feasts and rain for crops, the villages would be rebuilt by my own hands. My heart would stop breaking for the pain I caused.
You think you can get rid of me, Susanoo? Destruction is in your nature, I just make you stronger. You can try every rite the gods know, and I will stay right here.
Ignoring her, I stepped deeper into the cold waters and let it pull me down and down until even Tsukuyomi’s moonlight couldn’t touch me any more.
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