Chapter Text
“Say, kid, I think it’s about time you finally became a man!”
A thirteen year old Gorou squirmed under the heavy, ill fitting layers of leather and lacquer plates that had been assigned to him the day he enlisted. Became a man? What was he now, if not a man? A boy didn’t go to war. In the year since he joined the fight against the Raiden Shogun, he had seen far more than any boy should have.
He wondered what his mom would think of him. Tucked away in an isolated village populated by fellow yokai, the woman had scoffed at the notion of him joining the Resistance. “The petty quarrels of men have nothing to do with us,” she had said. It wasn’t until the Shogun’s forces arrived at their front door that the village realized just how much of a stake they had in this war. Decades of peace and seclusion had ended in a single night, crushed as easily as the tender seedlings under the boot of the samurai.
His options had been quite clear- he could either pick himself up and seek revenge, or he could lay in the rubble and die.
Gorou had made his choice.
“What are you spacing out for, kid?”
A pair of rough hands clasped his shoulder and thrust Gorou forward. The four men in his platoon had dodged his questions as they dragged him outside the reaches of Borou village, closer to the port than to Sangonomiya Shrine, only offering reassuring pats on the back and the occasional assertion that they had a surprise planned for him.
The building they gathered at the foot of was remarkably unassuming, a simple structure with a flat, thatched roof and wooden shutters placed over the windows. A bronze placard was fixed above the sliding door, reading “Aguri’s Den.” Gorou furrowed his brow. Some kind of teahouse? He’d lived on Watatsumi Island his entire life, and he had never even heard of this establishment.
Gorou turned back to the man that had pushed him, Hajime. Boisterous and confident, Hajime had established himself as the unofficial leader of the small platoon, a voice of reason that Gorou had been drawn to since the day he enlisted. Gorou stuck to the older man’s shadow like the faithful dog he was, eager to prove he was more than just a burden to the group.
Hajime squeezed Gorou’s skinny shoulders, cracking a smile as he hovered above him, pushing open the door. “Now, I know this is nothing compared to the red light districts on the mainland, but it gets the job done. Once we win this war, I promise I’ll take you to see the real deal. You can hold me to that.”
The smell hit Gorou like a wave. Sweat, the smell of bodies working themselves into a frenzy, all tinged with the acrid taste of tobacco in the air. But most of all, a sweet, overpowering scent like rotting flowers rushed into his all-to-sensitive nose, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. Unlike the now familiar smells of human filth that he had grown accustomed to in his new life, that was something distinctly yokai.
Pheromones.
Gorou reeled back, saliva flooding into his mouth as the meager rations he had eaten that morning threatened to make a return. Back in the village, the secondary sexes had mostly been left a mystery to him, a concept to be explained once he had actually grown old enough to present. But the scent he knew- it was the same smell that had permeated the walls of his family’s tiny home every few months, when his mother would shut herself away in her bedroom and his father would grow particularly protective of his wife and pup.
It was the same scent that Gorou had found bleeding off his body not long after he joined the army, coming in waves of fever and instincts he wasn’t quite sure how to relieve.
The older woman behind the counter looked up from her book, huffing a ring of smoke from her pipe. Hajime confidently strode into the foyer, placing a handful of Mora on the counter. “This should be enough for a couple hours with ‘Sakura’, right? I brought a few friends this time.”
She inspected each coin with a critical eye, before casting her gaze to the group, pausing on Gorou. Gorou wavered under her scrutiny, still lightheaded from the influx of strange scents. “It’s not often we see your kind around here.”
His cheeks burned. He was no stranger to being singled out for his yokai features, but the woman’s predatory gaze made him uneasy. She eyed him up and down like an antiques appraiser, trying to mentally calculate what she could earn in the market.
Gorou squeezed his tail behind his back like a stress ball, shuffling from foot to foot. Hajime broke the silence, laughing as he clapped Gorou on the back.
“We picked up this little stray about a year ago. He’s small, but he’s pretty damn feisty. I thought it was about time for him to learn the real benefits of being a soldier.”
His answer satisfied her. The old woman dipped her pipe towards the hallway. “You know the rules- don’t damage the merchandise. Sakura will be in his usual room.”
Merchandise? Gorou’s heart was pounding, forcing its way into his throat with every beat. The narrow hallway was thick with the smell of vice- booze, tobacco smoke, and human body fluids congealing into a pungent slurry. Gorou wanted to ask Hajime just what the hell was going on, but he didn’t risk opening his mouth and giving his already churning stomach any ideas.
“Now, kid, I picked out this one out especially for you. I figured it would be better if your first time was with someone of your own kind.” With a confident grin, Hajime threw open a sliding paper door, a rush of pheromones hitting Gorou square in the face.
Within the windowless room, a thin man knelt on a tatami mat, in the center of the miasma. He was pale, with peach colored locks that draped oh-so-delicately over his shoulders and neck. A pair of fox ears grew from his head, twitching in response to the opening of the door. His voluminous tail trailed behind him, fur fading into white at the top.
“Welcome,” Sakura murmured, glassy amber eyes staring fixed on the wall behind them.
What’s a kitsune doing all the way out here? Gorou thought. While most yokai were reclusive by nature, kitsune were the most enigmatic of all, their numbers congregating on only the most sacred ground. They were the loyal servants of the Shogun, after all, seeing one this deep into pagan land was unusual.
“I know it’s a guy, but don’t let that scare you off. Sakura is one of those yokai lady-boys, whatever you call ‘em,” Hajime’s breath was hot on the boy’s face as he murmured in Gorou’s ear, “There’s nothing to be worried about. You fuck them just like you would a woman.”
Oh gods, Gorou thought as the reality sunk in with a cold hand around his gut. This is a brothel, isn’t it?
“Get in there and embrace those animal instincts, kid,” Hajime said, pushing him forward until his sandals met the frayed edge of the futon. “You’ve got one of those freaky dog dicks right?”
“Maybe this will keep him from trying to jerk off after lights out,” one of the soldiers in the doorway snorted, making warm blood rush to Gorou’s cheeks and the tips of his ears.
“Oh fuck off, Sato,” Hajime called playfully over his shoulder, raising a dismissive hand. “You remember what it was like at his age. Just be glad he’s not humping your leg.” He turned back to the kitsune, “You be good to him, ya hear that Sakura? He’s just a kid.”
“Of course, sir,” Sakura replied smoothly. His placid smile drew neatly over the fangs Gorou knew he had, pink lips offering the allure of passivity.
“And make sure you get our money’s worth out of him, alright, Gorou? His ass wasn’t cheap!” Sato called over his shoulder as Hajime pushed the group out of the room, the door shutting behind them with a soft click.
They were alone.
Gorou was fixed on the spot, his breath caught in his throat. The kitsune drew a hand from the folds of his robe, stretching it out before him.
“Please come closer, so I can feel you.” Sakura spoke without turning to face Gorou, and it finally dawned on the boy why- he was blind. A milky film covered the surface of his eyes, flashing opaque in the candlelight.
Gorou complied, approaching Sakura and kneeling stiffly in front of him. He winced as slender fingers touched the velvety inners of his ears, before shifting down to trace the stubborn remnants of baby fat in his cheeks that his new life hadn’t claimed yet.
Up close, Gorou could see the man for what he really was- exhausted and battered. Harsh lines framed his face and weighed down his eyes, mirroring the same look Gorou had seen in the faces of prisoners that the Rebellion had managed to liberate from the Shogunate’s grasp. Staring down the front of his partially opened robe, Gorou could see bruises, both fresh and partially healed, stretching across his chest.
His stomach churning, Gorou found himself fixated on the yellowish-purple ring at the base of Sakura’s neck, just above his collarbone. A bite mark, the kind left by blunt human teeth. A crude imitation of a mating bite.
“You’re very far from home, my dear,” Sakura’s face hovered just in front of Gorou’s, the warmth from his breath tickling the boy’s nose. His voice was low and smooth, a gentle murmur that Gorou was compelled to lean closer into.
“I don’t have one. Not anymore.” The words tumbled out of Gorou’s mouth, the uncharacteristic candor taking even him by surprise. Through the tempest of overwhelming smells and tastes, the purr that rose out of Sakura’s chest was a lifeline, drawing him back into the shore. Memories of his mother came to mind, despite how hard he tried not to think about her. If he closed his eyes, he could probably sink into the kitsune’s embrace and pretend he was still home.
The cold tip of Sakura’s nose found the nape of his neck, brushing against the sensitive glands that had started to ache as he had gotten older. A sharp gasp from Sakura made Gorou jump.
“Oh Archons,” Sakura whispered, a look of pure horror overtaking his serene expression as he pulled away from Gorou, “You shouldn’t be here.”
That was something Gorou was sick of hearing. That he was too young, too small, too whatever to exist in a place. He flattened his ears defensively, his voice taking on the edge of a growl. “Excuse me?”
He knew Sakura couldn’t see him, but now he didn’t even seem to hear him. “How long have you been presenting as an omega?”
Omega. That was a term Gorou had only heard in passing while he was growing up, in hushed conversations between the adults. His mother had assured him she would tell him when he got older.
Now, he was older, and his mother was dead.
He could only imagine it was some kind of obscenity. Something foul enough that his mother couldn’t bear to discuss it with a pup.
“W-whatever you’re saying, it’s not true,” Gorou said, squaring his shoulders.
“Child, I can smell your pheromones as clear as day. You’ve already started your heat cycles, haven’t you?”
Gorou saw himself hidden under the covers, soaked in sweat, pawing miserably at places he hadn’t given much thought until that night . He’d have to change the sheets later-the other soldiers would tease him for wetting the bed. But Gorou knew it wasn’t urine.
Heat sounded like the best way to describe it.
Gorou’s bottom lip trembled as he stood his ground, tail lashing back and forth angrily. “Shut up!” he barked, hoping to see a spark of Sakura’s own anger in response.
Instead, he saw pity. Weary, clouded eyes relented to Sakura’s knitted brow, the wrinkles in the corner of his face becoming more defined.
Sakura’s voice dropped to a mere whisper. “Those men you were with…do they know?”
Gorou struck the tatami mat with a closed fist. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
“That you’re just like me- an omega.”
Sakura is one of those yokai lady-boys.
It wasn’t true.
You fuck them just like you would a woman.
It couldn’t be true.
“Fuck you!” Gorou howled, lunging at the man before him. The kitsune crumpled easily under his meager strength, allowing himself to to be pinned between Gorou’s legs. It happened in a flash- suddenly, Gorou was sitting atop Sakura’s chest, shaking hands wrapping around his throat. They overlapped the remnants of another bruise from much larger hands.
Sakura was limp under Gorou’s grasp, chin tilted up to allow himself a gasping breath. “Please,” Sakura whispered, his voice cracking, “You can’t let the humans know about this. You need to get away from those men, run as far as you can. You’re not safe here, with them. With anyone.”
“I can’t let you end up here, as another toy for them to use as they wish,” As Gorou’s fingers tightened around the soft parts of the kitsune’s throat, his words only grew more frantic, dipping into hysteria.
“I’m nothing like you!” Gorou said, shaking the man like a ragdoll with each word.
Gorou wasn’t weak. He wasn’t pathetic. He was nothing like the miserable shell of a man that struggled for breath under him.
“Fight back! Do something, dammit!” Gorou’s voice cracked as he saw the color leaving Sakura’s cheeks.
“Escape your fate. Please.”
Gorou saw his own face looking back at him, with vacant eyes and trembling lips. Resigned to the abuse.
“Gorou, what the fuck do you think you’re doing?’ Hajime’s voice came from behind, moments before rough hands grabbed him by the scruff of the neck and flung him off Sakura. His back hit the wall of the cramped room as his fellow soldiers rushed in, the madam of the house hovering near the door.
Gorou had nothing to say in response. He wasn’t even sure what he was doing, either. He hung his head between his knees, hands still twitching as if Sakura’s fragile windpipe were still between them.
“You’ll have to forgive him, Miss Aguri,” Hajime spoke fast and with his hands, putting himself between Gorou and the furious old woman, “It’s the kid’s first time. He doesn’t know when he’s being too rough.”
“I’ll be charging you double for this, Hajime. The only reason I’m not throwing you out is because you’re a regular.”
The conversation going on above Gorou fell on deaf ears. He couldn’t take his eyes off Sakura. The man laid limp at Hajime’s feet, a porcelain doll that had been so carelessly discarded. For a moment, Gorou believed he had choked him into unconsciousness, until he saw the rigid trembling of his shoulders. A much darker realization dawned on him- Sakura was forcing himself to be still, playing dead like a frightened animal to avoid drawing attention.
“Get up,” Hajime snapped, and Gorou was sure he was talking to him, until Hajime’s foot prodded Sakura between the ribs. The kitsune dragged himself to his knees, bringing a hand tentatively to the angry red welts that coiled around his throat. “Now I’m sure as hell going to get my mora’s worth out of you.”
A string of saliva still clung to Sakura’s chin as he dipped into a low, gracious bow.“O-of course, sir. Do as you please.”
Clutching a handful of rosy hair, Hajime shoved Sakura face first into the tatami floor. The loose, floral robe the man wore was torn away with ease, exposing every inch of his pale skin. A canvas of sickly yellow bruises and freshly healed scars.
“Watch closely, Gorou,” Hajime said as he wrenched the kitsune’s legs apart, “One day, it’s gonna be your turn.”
His turn.
Sakura’s words echoed in his head as his comrades descended upon the prone omega. Was he right? Was the only thing preventing Hajime and the other soldiers from tearing off his clothes the simple fact that they didn’t know?
It was far from the first time he had seen his comrades in a state of undress. They were all men, after all. Platoons showered and changed clothes in close quarters on the regular. But now, the sight of dark, wiry hair and flaccid penises flopping like dead fish felt more like an implicit threat, a practical demonstration of exactly what Gorou had to look forward to if they ever found out.
At that moment, watching Sakura gasp for breath around the filthy cock being shoved into his mouth, Gorou made a solemn vow.
He would remember this moment, until the day he died. He would remember it, so that it could never happen to him.
———
Her prey struggled beneath her, a delicate beast that had fallen helplessly under her claws. Wild brown eyes met her own, flickering with the desperation of a creature that realized death was imminent. She held its gaze. There was beauty in this moment, after all.
She could feel its pounding heart, the gushing blood around her claws salting the air with its mouth watering scent. She was so, so hungry.
She could delay no longer. She sunk her teeth into the poor thing’s neck, an act of quick mercy. Its body reacted with a violent shudder, bloodied lips parting to release a hoarse wail. She could feel the cry vibrating under her own teeth, cut short as they pierced its vocal cords. When it gasped for breath, the air brushed past her lips. For a brief moment, she and her prey were one organism.
Warm, fresh blood bubbled into her mouth, as sweet as honey and bursting with vitality. Pleasure tingled like Electro energy up and down her spine as she held onto the bite, feeling the last twitches of life weaken and eventually still.
With a sharp thrust of her head, she pulled back, elastic skin buckling under the strain and tearing like cloth, exposing the pink meat below. Flesh parted from bone with ease, lubricated by blood.
She caught a glimpse of herself in the water, a feral beast hunched over its meal, scraps of pale flesh dangling from her maw.
————
Kokomi awoke with a start, sheets twisted around her legs and her nightgown pasted to her chest with the sweat that could only come from a heavy sleep. The sun was already high in its mid-morning track through the sky, bleeding far more light into her room than she had anticipated. She blinked wearily, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.
What time is it? Kokomi thought as a fly buzzed by her head, stealing a few moments on her cheek before she swatted it away. She scowled at the open window the insect fled to- no wonder it was so damn hot in here.
If left to her own devices, Kokomi could sleep an entire day away. Which was exactly why she wasn’t left to her own devices. Izumi made sure of that. Like clockwork, the girl would materialize at her door just as the sun peaked over the horizon, rapping her knuckles against the door until Kokomi was awake enough to muster a response. Izumi’s chipper words each morning were practically burned into her mind.“Lady Kokomi, it’s time to wake up.” “Please wake up now, Lady Kokomi.” “Lady Kokomi, you have a meeting scheduled in an hour.” And, at last, her trump card, “Lady Kokomi, I have a basin of cold water here. Please don’t make me use it.”
Which made it even more concerning when it was clearly past sunrise, and Kokomi’s sleep hadn’t been disturbed. Under normal circumstances, Izumi would have already resorted to her trusty water basin.
The sounds of foot traffic just outside her door made her stomach twist in nervous knots. The shrine was a living, breathing animal- its regular creaks and groans were as familiar to Kokomi as the whinny of a horse. The shrine maidens weren’t set to wash the linens until the next day, and their scheduled deep clean of the common areas wasn’t for another 3 weeks. There was no reason for so many people to be in this hallway at this time of day, especially not with the heavy urgency that made the floorboards squeak. Something was wrong.
Dammit.
Kokomi rose from her bed, brushing away an errant strand of hair that was still stuck to her mouth. Still in her nightgown, she tugged on a pair of slippers and dashed into the hall. She followed the sound of hushed conversation, where a crowd had gathered in the foyer. Heads turned when she darkened the doorway, soldier and shrine maiden alike blanching like they had been caught in the act-the act of what? Kokomi planned to find out.
“What’s going on in here?” Kokomi asked, holding herself as regally as possible while still in her pajamas.
Chieko slapped her palms together, bowing apologetically “Oh- Lady Kokomi, you’re up. I- I was just about to fetch you, you see-”
Kokomi’s brow furrowed. “I asked a question.”
Gorou’s sweet scent hit Kokomi’s nose before she spotted his face in the crowd.
“We wanted to get a handle on the situation before we alerted you, Your Excellency. But I see now that was foolish. You should have been awoken thusly.”
She wasn’t nearly awake enough to hold Gorou’s gaze. Things had become…strained between them the night after Kokomi informed him of his demotion (transfer, she reminded herself). Gorou had remained cordial as always, but for as hard as he tried, the man wore his emotions on his sleeve. It was obvious he was nursing a serious wound to his pride.
He hadn’t graced her bed with his presence since then.
The role of General was just as important to Gorou as her own title of Divine Priestess, Kokomi knew this. She wasn’t so naive that she expected her Gorou to take such a change lying down. Such a sudden shake-up to the military hierarchy would be just as detrimental to the stability of Watatsumi Island as it would be to Gorou's emotional welfare. So, she and Gorou had come to a compromise- he would be actively searching for a successor and begin slowly transitioning his duties as General onto them, without arousing too much suspicion from the other soldiers.
“Speak, General.” All Kokomi wanted to do was bury her face into his neck. A white scar kissed the soft skin near his collarbone, now free from the swaddling of bandages.
“At sunrise, I was alerted that Izumi was missing. According to her bunkmates, she was present at lights-out with the other shrine maidens, so it appears she left the dorms sometime in the middle of the night, and never returned,” Gorou spoke matter-of-factly.
Izumi was gone? Cold dread coiled in the pit of her stomach. The girl had seen her off to bed that very night, leaving an herbal tea in her chambers to aid her Lady’s sleep.
…Hadn’t she? That was what happened, right? The more she tried to think back, the harsher the ache behind her eyes became.
Kokomi’s nails pierced the skin of her palms. Enough pain to snap her out of her thoughts. She was expected to speak now.
“And I take it that the search efforts so far have turned up nothing?” Cold. Measured. A third party observing the situation.
Gorou’s ears dipped. “You would be correct, My Lady. We started with searching the grounds of the shrine, but I believe extending the search radius to the remainder of the island will be necessary. I’ve already sent a few scouts to Borou village with scent hounds.”
“It’s just that-” Yuuka, one of the youngest shrine maidens at fourteen, piped up, “Pardon me, My Lady, I just mean that- after what happened to General Gorou a few weeks ago, I’m just really worried about her-”
“Hold your tongue, girl!” Chieko barked, “I already told you that the beast responsible has been slain! The Divine Priestess herself declared the matter resolved. Are you doubting her words?”
Kokomi’s mind volunteered the image of the slaughtered vishap, purplish-red gore soaking into the wood below it. As the days passed, the Inazuman sun had worked its devious magic on the corpse, peeling back the flesh of its belly and bloating its form. Despite the stench of rot, it boasted a fair number of visitors from across the island. It was a symbol of their victory, after all.
The taste of copper flooded into her mouth. “Chieko is correct. There is nothing to be concerned about, Yuuka. I will be personally overseeing the search efforts from here on. I want to see Izumi home safe and sound as much as anyone here.”
Blood on her hands. Blood in her mouth? Gods, she could taste it. It was real and warm and sweet and-
A hand touched her shoulder. “Well said, Lady Kokomi,” Gorou’s voice was even and collected. A lifeline tossed out to her on choppy waters. “It would be best for you to return to your duties for now. The moment we find something out, I will be sure to pass the message back to the shrine maidens. You have my word.”
As Chieko ushered Yuuka out of the common area, Gorou cut his eyes over to Kokomi, knitting his eyebrows in concern. She had shared enough nonverbal communication with him over the years that the message was loud and clear: “Are you ok?”
Kokomi swallowed roughly, pushing down the lump in her throat. Gorou was right. She hadn’t even noticed that her lips were twisted into a frown, her mask of serenity slipping off her face. She collected herself enough to respond with her own silent communication- a curt shake of the head that was only perceivable by Gorou, with lips pursed into a tight line. “Not here. Drop it.”
The front doors burst open, a pale faced young man barging into the room. Upon seeing Kokomi and Gorou, he seized into a stiff salute. “Your Excellency, General!” he spluttered between breaths.
“At ease, Haru. Have the scouts returned from the village?” Gorou asked.
The boy shook his head, bracing himself on his knees to catch his breath. “The Shogun’s convoy has arrived at the dock.”
Fuck.
“That’s three days ahead of schedule! What are they thinking?” Gorou exclaimed, expressing the frustration that Kokomi kept carefully tucked behind a smile.
“I see,” Kokomi murmured, “Very well. General, I must make myself presentable first. I will meet you at the docks to properly welcome our guests. Buy me a little time, if you will.”
Gorou blinked, “I- Yes, of course, My Lady. As you wish.”
The walk back to her chambers was based entirely on muscle memory. The moment she slammed the door shut, the fog over her head lifted. Kokomi forced a pent up breath through clenched teeth.
Izumi was missing. The Shogun has arrived.
And she was still in her pajamas.
Kokomi rested her hands on her dresser, a fine antique that had been gifted to her by Komaki on the day of her coronation. Even hidden away in her chambers, she couldn’t escape the wooden visage of Orobashi-his head held high in triumph, cutting apart storm clouds with fangs bared.
Pushing aside neatly folded bundles of clothing, Kokomi found what she was looking for, buried near the bottom. It was a pure white kimono that shone when the light caught it, the fine powder of ground Sango pearls woven into the fibers. Fine silver embroidery adorned the hems of the robe and the surface of the obi, with whole pearls sewn in alongside it.
Her ceremonial robes. Kokomi hadn’t had many chances to wear them. War hadn’t allowed them the luxury of many festivals to lead or weddings to officiate. Honoring the dead required a separate set of funerary robes, and funerals were the only thing Watatsumi Island had known for years.
Hidden among the expanse of its lengthy train, Kokomi knew a small tear marred the fabric. She remembered that day as if it was yesterday- she was 13 years old, the day she officially became the Divine Priestess. She was still adjusting to her thick-heeled zori sandals and the freshly laid floorboards of the new Shrine snagged her robes, causing her to fall flat on her face in front of the assembled crowd. To her teenage mind, it was the worst thing she could possibly fathom happening.
In the coming years, Kokomi was quick to learn that much worse things existed than public embarrassment.
A spot of violet in her peripheral vision caught Kokomi’s eye. Stuffed between her spare night gowns, Kokomi fished out a simple hair ribbon, its edges frayed with use. She flinched when the image of Izumi, her dark hair pulled back into a modest bun, appeared in her mind.
Ah, Kokomi mused, this is Izumi’s ribbon.
She let that thought linger.
This is Izumi’s ribbon.
This is…. Izumi’s ribbon?
Her ribbon.
Why was it hidden in her dresser?
Izumi paused, clenching a fistful of her skirt as she lingered near the door.
“Is there anything else, Izumi?” Kokomi asked coolly, looking up from her cup of tea.
The girl tensed at the utterance of her name. “Lady Kokomi, I am aware that I am overstepping my bounds, but as your attendant, I must keep the well-being of my Lady as my foremost concern-”
“Speak plainly, Izumi.”
The room was hot. Too hot.
“Lady Kokomi, you are clearly not well. I believe your encounter with the vishap has left you more shaken than you want to admit.”
Beneath the cover of glossed lips and a pleasant smile, Kokomi ground her teeth. What was she trying to imply?
…Was she onto her?
“Izumi, you’re letting your imagination get the best of you. While I appreciate your concern, it’s not needed.” Kokomi waved a hand. “You are dismissed.”
“I won’t stand for this, Lady Kokomi!” Izumi snapped, her voice that had never raised above a humble murmur sounding hoarse. “I can see it with my own two eyes, everyone can! You haven’t eaten a proper meal since that day. I doubt you’ve even slept properly either. Lady Kokomi, don’t you understand how serious this is? At this rate, you will waste away!”
Izumi placed a trembling hand over Kokomi’s, her wide eyes softening around the edges with tears. “Please, whether this affliction is emotional or physical, you need help. You’ve done so much good for Watatsumi Island and Sangonomiya Shrine. Let us help you, now.”
Help her? After carrying the fate of her people and the wrath of a vengeful Archon on her back, Izumi expected her to just give up? If she lost face now, then what was the point of holding herself together for the past ten years?
The suffering of the Divine Priestess was a noble thing.
“Lady Kokomi, listen to me.” Kokomi’s cheeks felt wet. Why were they wet? “It’s going to be alright. I’ve already discussed it with Doctor Koji. We’re going to get to the bottom of whatever is going on-”
Him.
“Koji put you up to this?” Kokomi whispered, her shoulders falling limp.
“Pardon? Lady Kokomi, what do you-”
Kokomi could see it now. What she had assumed was concern written into Izumi’s features had been contempt. Of course the little bitch had been waiting for an opportunity to take her down.
She thought of Koji, with his suspicious stares aimed her way and lecherous hands all over her Gorou. Was that his angle, too? To get her out of the way, so he could have Gorou all to himself?
“Get out,” Kokomi said, her voice so low it was almost a growl. Perhaps it was a growl.
“Please, just-” The pathetic spluttering of a traitor.
“GET OUT!”
Kokomi raised a hand to her face, gasping for breath as she fought to find her bearings. A memory? Her mind still felt fuzzy as she shoved the purple ribbon to the bottom of her dresser and slammed it shut, letting Orobashi swallow it up.
Her eyes wandered to the opposing wall, where something shiny on the floor made her blood run cold.
Porcelain. Specifically, the fine porcelain from her personal tea set.
The memories came in flashes. The sound of a tea cup shattering against the wall, the image of Izumi on her knees, mopping up scalding tea with her sleeve.
Just what the hell happened last night?
“That’s enough,” Kokomi hissed, scolding herself in hushed tones. She had more important things to be worrying about. The Raiden Shogun was currently docked in her harbor, waiting for a formal welcome.
She tucked a fresh set of robes under her arm and made a beeline for her private washroom. Pausing in front of the mirror, she took stock of what she had to work with. Her hair was unwashed, but it would have to stay that way- she didn’t have time for a proper bath, and she certainly wasn’t going to appear before the Shogun with wet hair.
Kokomi wet a cloth and buried her face in it, letting the warmth sink in behind her tired eyes. She stared down at the tray of cosmetics on the counter, each brush and pot lined up neatly, as Izumi always left them. Her hands trembled as she dabbed chalky concealer under her eyes, trying to hide the evidence of her utter exhaustion. It was shoddy work, but at least the spatter of blush took the attention away from her sunken cheeks.
Izumi could have done a much better job, a voice in the back of her head reminded Kokomi.
Kokomi wet the tip of a brush in crimson lip stain. Normally, she preferred a more neutral color, but today she was going to be measured against an archon. Anything to make her feel like less of a child compared to the Shogun herself.
The brush slid easily across her lips, deep red soaking into the chapped skin, a stark pop of color on her pale face. Her stroke had clearly been too heavy handed, as excess stain gathered on her lower lip, bright and visceral in its color.
It dribbled down her chin. Her stomach lurched.
Oh fuck it was in her mouth, the blood was in her mouth she could feel it on her tongue what was she doing fuck fuck FUCK-
The next thing she knew, Kokomi was on her knees, heaving violently into the toilet beneath her. Sweaty hands gripped the edges of the bowl, a futile attempt to steady herself. She spat out another mouthful of bile and pressed her back against the counter. The walls around her seemed to swim, merging with the cold floor underneath her.
Don’t you understand how serious this is, Lady Kokomi? At this rate, you will waste away!
Something twitching in her gut, Kokomi leaned forward to examine the pool of sick before she flushed it away. Half digested rice, bits of vegetables…that was all she had been able to stomach the past few days. What did she think she was going to see?
Kokomi wouldn’t dare give her fears the credit of being verbalized.
Back on her feet, she assessed the damage in the mirror. Whatever attempt she had made at revivifying her sunken features had been rendered pointless by the sweat, snot, and spittle the episode had left her covered in.
At least she hadn’t gotten vomit on her ceremonial robes.
———
The Shogun’s ship cut an imposing figure on the horizon, the masts with violet sails bearing the insignia of eternity creeping over the cloudless sky like the fingers of a beast.
It was ridiculous. At any other point in her life, the capture of Watatsumi Island’s harbor by the full might of Inazuma’s navy would have been the beginning of a massacre. She should have been on a death march. Instead, there were shrine maidens at her side holding flowers and local delicacies.
The unwavering gaze of the midmorning summer sun bore down on Kokomi’s back as she breached the tree line, where Gorou stood surrounded by a group of armored soldiers. Among the flock, Kokomi recognized another familiar face- Kujou Sara, one of the Tenryou Commission’s most vicious (and loyal) dogs.
“Lady Kokomi, you’ve arrived,” Gorou said, straightening to attention as her group approached. Sara watched her with cold, golden eyes, the same gaze a hawk watched its prey with before swooping in for the kill.
“I am pleased to properly greet you, Sangonomiya Kokomi,” Sara said curtly, dipping her head in a quick but reverent bow.
Kokomi had to remind herself she wasn’t facing the enemy. She almost preferred it when Sara had been aiming for her head. At least it was honest, compared to whatever this was.
“I apologize for my tardiness,” Kokomi murmured, “I had some… urgent affairs to tend to at the shrine.” Like cleaning up vomit, the voice in her head added not-so-helpfully.
“There is no need to apologize, Your Excellency, we are the ones imposing upon you, after all.” Sara’s words failed to reflect her steely expression.
If Kokomi’s stomach hadn’t already been thoroughly emptied this morning, she could have gagged. This was a microcosm of exactly what she feared this week would devolve into: meaningless platitudes spat between grit teeth, between people who would find it much less confusing and troublesome if they were just killing each other instead.
“I do apologize for arriving on such short notice, Miss Sangonomiya Kokomi,” a silky voice cut through the tension between the two women, Sara immediately jerking to attention.
Just behind Sara, the fine wooden palanquin that rested between lines of assembled samurai stirred, the silken curtains drawing back with a soft hiss.
Kokomi smelled her guest before she laid eyes on her. A rich, heavy scent permeated the air like smog- eye-wateringly floral, a combination of jasmine and blooming cherry blossoms, with hints of rose. It should have been a pleasant fragrance, but something in the back of her mind absolutely reeled from it. Kokomi promptly pursed her lips, unwilling to allow anymore of it to stick to the roof of her mouth. Fuck, when had her nose become this sensitive?
A figure emerged from the palanquin that was decidedly not the Raiden Shogun.
————
“What is the meaning of this, Guuji Yae?”
As the heavy sanctuary doors closed behind her, Kokomi’s face darkened. She had held her tongue in front of her soldiers, but now she wore her frustration clear on her face.
Yae Miko was the very picture of grace and divine excellency, effortlessly propping up the image that Kokomi fought tooth and nail every day to keep up. Adorned in crisp ceremonial robes of her own (that definitely weren’t torn along the train), she stood a head taller than Kokomi, her long ears tucked mercifully against the sides of her head. She brought a hand up to her chin, innocently blinking half-lidded violet eyes.
“Pardon?” she purred, “What do you mean, dear?”
As coy and meek as the kitsune tried to appear, Kokomi couldn’t help but falter before her. The confidence in her cool gaze reminded Kokomi of the immense gap between them- not just in experience, but in age and power. The only thing that prevented Kokomi from backing down was her own stubborn pride.
“The Raiden Shogun herself was to oversee this training camp,” Kokomi began, swallowing past the cotton that seemed to have been stuffed down her throat, “That was the agreement that was reached upon between the diplomats of our two nations.” So why the hell do you think you can just show up like nothing’s wrong?
Yae flashed an apologetic smile, like Kokomi had pointed out a stray grain of rice stuck to her cheek and not a serious breach of the conditions of this entire diplomatic undertaking. “Ah, I understand now. Unfortunately, more serious matters demanded the Raiden Shogun’s attention and she was forced to remain at the palace. However, as her trusted advisor and the Guuji of the Grand Narukami Shrine, I have been appointed to act in her stead for the remainder of this event. We apologize for the inconvenience.”
For the first time in centuries, the looming threat of annihilation no longer hung over Watatsumi Island. A war, that none of her people had ever lived without, had come to an end. An olive branch, extended by Kokomi to the very nation that had orchestrated all of this suffering.
And the Raiden Shogun couldn’t even bother to show up.
From within her wide sleeves, Kokomi’s nails pierced the already raw skin on her palms. The droning buzz in her ears was as if every cicada on the island had decided to congregate in her skull.
Say something. Rip that smug fucking smile right off her face.
“Are you quite well, Lady Kokomi? You look pale. Shall I have one of my attendants fetch you a cup of one of Narukami Shrine’s prized herbal teas?”
Kokomi drew her tongue over her teeth, sharper than she remembered, and drew a nervous breath as she locked eyes with Yae Miko. Under the thin veneer of passivity, her true intentions were clear as day. It was a challenge. Go on, do it, her sly smile whispered in Kokomi’s head, I know you want to.
The smell of cherry blossoms had become overwhelming, a thick miasma that radiated from the kitsune. It wasn’t perfume. Kokomi knew it wasn’t perfume.
“Lady Kokomi, I bring news from Borou Village-” Two sets of eyes fell on the round face that poked into the room, “Ah! My apologies, I wasn’t aware you were still conferring with the emissary.”
Gods, not Gorou. Anyone but Gorou. Kokomi was scrambling for her words, anything to get Gorou the fuck out of this room.
Yae waved her hand dismissively. “There’s no need to be so formal, dear. You weren’t interrupting us in the least bit. Please, continue with what you were saying- don’t let me be in the way of your official business.”
Gorou cautiously stepped through the door, his normally perky ears flattened timidly against the sides of his head. “Well, I, uh…” he croaked, his eyes darting to Kokomi for some sort of rescue.
Say something, dammit! Kokomi thought, her mouth dry and her tongue useless. The kitsune watched her out of the corner of her eye, the slit pupils brimming with the same confidence a serpent had as it waited for its venom to travel to the heart of its prey. To speak she had to breathe, and to breathe she had to take in another mouthful of that fetid stench…
“Speak,” Yae said, her voice dipping into a low rumble that made Kokomi flinch.
“One of our shrine maidens, she’s gone missing. We’ve been searching for her all morning, but we haven’t found a trace of her,” Gorou’s eyes were hazy as he spoke, clouded in the same way they had been when Kokomi loomed over him that night. Pinned to the cot in the privacy of the infirmary, that helpless, boneless slump in his posture and features had driven Kokomi mad with lust. But now, seeing it here, directed at that woman, Kokomi was stricken with paralyzing rage.
Yae blinked slowly, long eyelashes fanning with satisfaction. “That’s unfortunate indeed. The Shogunate would be happy to lend a hand with the search effort, if you so wish.”
Gorou sank forward in a frantic bow, “If you would, we would appreciate the-”
The pressure in the room snapped like a twig. Kokomi could breathe.
“That won’t be necessary.” Kokomi’s voice sounded like gravel in her throat. “Watatsumi Island can handle its own affairs.”
“L-Lady Kokomi!” Gorou exclaimed, the stupor he had been under crumbling into disbelief, “Is this really the time to be rejecting outside assistance? After what happened a few weeks ago-”
Yae’s eyebrow rose in interest, the slightest hint of genuine surprise flickering across her porcelain mask of a face.
“General!” Kokomi snapped, harsher than she had intended, “I’ve made my decision. Our soldiers are more than capable of handling this matter alone.”
Gorou’s tail lashed bitterly between his legs, his frustration bringing out the same flush across his cheeks that arousal did. “But-”
“You are dismissed,” Kokomi said, speaking not as herself, but as the cold, detached Divine Priestess of Watatsumi Island. She hated to pull rank on him, she really did. But Gorou left her no choice.
Gorou held his tongue like any good soldier would, hissing out a curt “Yes, My Lady,” between clenched teeth.
The kitsune watched the scene without a word. Kokomi’s heart pounded painfully in her throat as she followed Yae’s predatory gaze to the small scar along the base of her Gorou’s neck as he turned to leave. Copper flooded her mouth as the sharp teeth hidden behind her lips sank into her tongue. She couldn’t help but flinch when the heavy iron doors of the sanctuary shut behind him, a reminder that Kokomi was once again alone with her.
Yae folded her hands across her ample bosom, letting out a small sigh, “You are quite the busy woman, Little Divine Priestess. I won’t take up anymore of your time. I’ve been eager to see what kind of amenities Sangonomiya Shrine offers to its guests.”
Kokomi blinked, and Yae had materialized by her ear, moving only with the soft ringing of kagura bells and the crackle of Electro energy. “And, dear, allow me to impart with you some friendly advice, from one alpha to another- you really should teach that little omega of yours a bit more decency. Letting him walk in here, so exposed and reeking of his own pheromones…if you hadn’t already laid your claim on him, I might have been tempted to take him back to Narakumi Shrine as a little prize.”
Alpha- Kokomi was familiar with the concept, of course. The touch of an alpha was what the omega’s body was designed to receive, a form of intimacy that humans couldn’t replicate by virtue of their own biology. Yae being an alpha made sense- just as Gorou’s scent was sweet and tantalizing, its natural opposite would be overpowering and foul. But…
From one alpha to another-
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kokomi murmured, keeping her back straight and eyes averted from Yae’s gaze, “Your yokai customs have nothing to do with me. I’m completely human.” As she spoke, her mouth watered, relieving the experience of biting down into Gorou’s supple flesh. It had felt natural. Necessary, even.
“Completely human?” Yae smiled, this time showing Kokomi her fangs, “I see. Pardon me for my intrusion, then.”