Chapter Text
The world of gods was always complicated.
With every root of Irminsul that grows, a new god is born.
With every branch that grows, a yokai is born.
And with every fallen leaf, a mortal is born.
The tree of Irminsul was once cared for by the former God of Wisdom, Greater Lord Rukkhadevata, and later by her successor, Lesser Lord Kusanali.
It’s said that Greater Lord Rukkhadevata nursed the sapling of Irminsul, which created the world as we know it. The life it created was valued, loved, and cherished.
Yet, as time grew on, the lives that were given lost their value. Murder, genocide, and death grew rampant in Teyvat. So much that it killed Greater Lord Rukkhadevata's soul, and a new root branched off of her own.
Lord Kaedehara Kazuha was born as the God of Life, and nature.
In Greater Lord Rukkhadevata's dying breaths, he held her, powerless to do anything.
For the God of Life cannot put one to rest.
From Lord Kaedehara's hands, Lesser Lord Kusanali was born. He did not stick around to raise her, leaving her in a yokai's hands, before parting for the forest.
600 years later, Lord Kaedehara would marry.
A caring and boisterous kitsune, by the name of Tomoko Hanabayashi.
A relationship only set for tragedy.
200 years before the present.
"Why are you taking him from me?" Tomo asked, grasping at Kazuha's delicate wrist as he attempted to pull his lover from Kujou Sara's grasp.
"Lord Kaedehara has been accused of blasphemy against Lady Ei. He's to be punished," she replied sharply, yanking Kazuha away by his shoulder.
"How fucking stupid are you?" The kitsune shouted at the tengu, though she did not respond.
Kujou teleported away from Tomo, onto the wooden stage. She ties Kazuha to a wooden post, tightly and with expertise.
Kazuha does not struggle, only pressing his lips into a thin line. Deep crimson eyes meet Tomo's violet ones. Tomo wonders if his wrists hurt, both from him pulling on them, and the rough texture of the rope against them.
Other yokai and gods gather around the stage, though Tomo notices Lesser Lord Kusanali and her attendant are missing. He wonders if she wasn't invited, because she would protest this as well.
Yae Miko steps on stage, Lady Ei's head priestess.
Tomo's sister, technically. Kitsune families are strange.
"Welcome, yokai and gods of the audience," she greets warmly, as though she hasn't set the stage for execution, "Lord Kaedehara Kazuha has continuously committed blasphemy against Lady Ei and her late sister, Makoto. As the supreme ruler of this nation, we cannot stand for that. And so, you get the joy of watching this punishment."
There is silence among the crowd, pure horror flooding from every soul in sight.
Tomo wishes Kusanali were here, to protest and stop. People rarely oppose her. Though, he also fears what might’ve happened if she did.
Yae approaches Kazuha, they share a cold gaze, one of anger and determination.
"I’ll torment you just enough so that you won’t die," she hums to him, "Dear God of Life, shall I spare your life?"
"I won't beg for forgiveness," he replied.
Tomo runs up on stage, throwing Miko’s shrine maidens out of the way of the stairs as he places himself between Yae and his lover.
"Yae, don't do this," Tomo asks, he’s desperate. He couldn’t just stand and watch Kazuha be tortured.
"Oh? Does the weak little kitsune wish to get in my way?" She answers with a snicker, "As though you could do anything to defend Lord Kaedehara."
"I'm begging you on Kazuha's behalf!"
"Then, perhaps, beg a little more."
The words are cold and filled with no remorse, like frostbite pricking his ears.
A dagger slips from Yae's kimono, and Tomo doesn't have time to react.
The blade is plunged into his left eye. Gasps and screams erupt from the crowd, along with cheers from others.
It hurts. Ithurtsithurtsithurtsithurts-
He screams. A gut-wrenching scream of agony. Knees weaken and crumble under Tomo’s weight. His vision flickers and dies within his hands, like a candle blown out.
The knife is removed from his eye, but it still hurts, hurts, hurts, hurt-
His white fox ears flatten to his head, his left hand coming to what's left of his left eye.
Blood spills from the wound, onto Tomo’s hands, onto the wooden floors, and onto Yae’s sandals.
Yae's pupils dilate as blood spills onto the wood. Tomo's ears are ringing, but he can hear someone else screaming his name. It has to be Kazuha.
Tomo bites down on his lip, hard enough to bleed. But he stares back at Yae. There’s a feral look in her eyes, one that Tomo didn’t recognize, as though the scent of blood has possessed her.
A voice that sounds much like Tomo's, yet slightly off, rang through his head.
Do you understand my pain?
Do you understand my agony?
“Perhaps, you should beg for your own life instead of Kazuha’s,” Yae says simply.
Kazuha is still screaming and struggling against his binds, yet nothing comes of it.
Tomo smiles. It’s a wicked grin, though pain surges through his body, he still bares his fangs.
“I won’t beg for my life,” he spits.
Unforgivable, unforgivable, unforgivable, unforgivable.
The knife clatters against the wooden stage, and Yae’s manicured hand comes to grab at Tomo’s chin.
Blood leaks onto her fingertips, she stares at it like a fox hunting its prey.
Tomo smiles.
“ Does it hurt? Does it? Cry and scream more for me, ” she says. It’s not her voice, a voice that is husked and deranged, a voice not heard in many years.
“What do you know about the curse of the Kitsune and the Oni?” replies, though he stutters and fumbles over his words.
Blood leaks from his lip.
Yae’s grip on his face tightens. Is it truly Yae at this point? Or, perhaps, someone else entirely?
“Surely, you know where those who eat their own kind go?”
It was raining outside.
Pouring. The river nearby the shrine was overflowing, flooding and over-watering the grass. It’ll be muddy tomorrow, impossible to walk in.
Little Kunikuzushi watched from the safety of the rice paper walls. He wasn't much older than 10 or 12, a shrine maiden in the making, learning the art of fan dancing.
"Have you ever heard the story of the Kitsune and the Oni?" Another shrine maiden asks. Her name is Gendou, she's more standoffish than the rest, but she took a liking to Kunikuzushi.
Maybe because they were similar. Gendou was not from Japan, the other shrine maiden didn't quite like her as much. Kunikuzushi remembered it was her last year at the shrine before Gendou went out to journey Japan. Part of him wished he joined her.
Kunikuzushi nodded a no, "Is it a boring story?"
"It's a pretty scary story," she replied, a smirk on her face, "Not really kid-friendly, but you're pretty grown up. I'm sure you can take it."
"What's the story?" Kunikuzushi asked once more, tilting his head to the side.
"Long, long ago, maybe about a thousand years ago, before humans existed and the world was filled with yokai and gods, there was a Kitsune clan and an Oni clan. And many more, of course, but those two are the center of our story.
The Kitsune clan was said to have a special connection to the gods because of their intense worship of them. Most had some kind of special power, but many of the clan were born disabled, if born at all. Alas, there was one kitsune who proved to be incredibly powerful, born perfectly healthy and as beautiful as can be. His name was lost to time, though he spent much time tending to the shrines.
The Oni clan was strong, well fit for combat and war. However, infertility was rampant throughout the Oni clan, their families were always small. After years of trying, the lady of the clan gave birth to a beautiful son, whom she cherished much more than anything.
Long ago, the kitsune was kidnapped by the Oni clan, and tortured to death in front of a crowd. The kitsune refused to beg for his life, instead damning the Oni clan to become cannibals, or die by his hands.”
Kunikuzushi grimaces, beginning to regret asking about the story in the first place.
Gendou lets out a snicker, before continuing the story, “The oni son was inflicted with this curse, killing and eating his own parents! It’s later said that he would eat most of their village, going insane slowly, until Lady Yae beheaded him herself.”
As though she was summoned by her mere mention, Yae passes by, standing out and looking towards the pouring rain.
“Is it true?” Kunikuzushi asks, looking up at the head priestess, “Did you behead the oni?”
Yae smiles, “Of course not, dear, don’t let Gendou tell you such silly stories.”
Kunikuzushi is a shrine maiden of Beelzebub.
It’s all he’s truly known, abandoned as but a baby and taken into the shrine.
Kunikuzushi was raised by the other shrine maidens of Beelzebub, hesitantly so.
Despite all appearances and protests from others, Kunikuzushi was a man. Ambiguous genitals might’ve been their sort of hope, but Kunikuzushi insisted.
Beelzebub was a god who preferred conformity, most shrine maidens looked and acted the same. Which made Kunikuzushi an anomaly, as the only man within the shrine.
Yet, he remained a shrine maiden and a fan dancer, dedicated to Beelzebub.
However, today was a special day, so it proved.
“Sacrifice?” Kunikuzushi asked as Yae delicately wrapped his body in fabric far too fancy.
A deep purple kimono, decorated with sakura blossoms on the sleeves. Far fancier than the uniform Kunikuzushi had worn his whole life.
“That’s your role,” Yae explained, “Once every 20 years, a life is sacrificed to prevent a terrible drought.”
“Isn’t it against the rules to sacrifice a member of the shrine?” He replied, brows stitched together in worry.
“Oh, dear, we aren’t sacrificing you,” she replied, tying the obi behind Kunikuzushi, “You are simply doing the deed.”
Kunikuzushi’s sweaty palms met each other, clutching in anxiety. Somehow, Yae’s tone did not put him at ease.
Sitting on the marble steps of the shrine, Kunikuzushi watches everyone else hard at work to prepare for the sacrifice. He feels even more out of place, in such nice clothes, and unable to help.
A crow lands beside him. Kunikuzushi’s indigo gaze stares into the empty one of the crow’s. It cocks its head at him, and Kunikuzushi copies.
The crows always seem to flock to him, ever since Kunikuzushi was a child.
It hops a little closer to him, and Kunikuzushi finds himself smiling.
“Are you alone, too?” Kunikuzushi asks the crow, softly, as though it could respond.
He outstretches a hand, and the crown hops into it immediately. Lifting the crow to face level carefully, Kunikuzushi inspects it with loving eyes. Dark feathers that fade into a beautiful green, though its eyes are empty, Kunikuzushi senses an amount of friendliness within them.
“You should go before Lady Yae decides to eat you,” he says with a laugh, as the crow flies away.
Part of Kunikuzushi feels as though he should chase after it, yet he stays in place.
Kunikuzushi should’ve known better.
The heavy marble doors to the altar are closed, most likely blocked from the outside.
He’s alone in the small, dark room. No food, no water, only candlelight and cold marble underneath his bruised knees.
He’s been crying for hours, banging on the doors until his knuckles are bruised and bloody.
It’s stupid and hopeless. Of course, Yae would abandon him, she’s wanted to do so for years.
No one can help him.
Kunikuzushi’s body sinks to the floor in front of the doors, cheeks pressed against the cool marble as he presses his lips into a line.
Maybe he should’ve followed the crow, as he wanted. Why did he have any fucking loyalty to these people who have only ever tolerated his existence?
He wipes his now angry tears against the silk of his kimono. If he’s going to die, let it be without tears.
Kunikuzushi hears the fluttering of wings in a distance, it only reminds him of his past mistakes. Perhaps the crows were truly his only friends after all.
“Oh, dear sweet thing,” a soft voice comes from behind him.
It’s unfamiliar, one that Kunikuzushi never heard, even in passing. Masculine, but there’s a loving tone to it. Gentle, like flowing honey.
A warm hand is pressed against his shoulder, stroking it in a comforting manner.
“I didn’t think they’d abandon you here, how cruel,” the voice says once more.
Kunikuzushi wonders if he’s hallucinating. Frozen stiff, unable to figure out what to do. Without much warning, an arm tucks underneath Kunikuzushi’s neck, and another under his knees, lifting the smaller one into a bridal style.
Kunikuzushi’s teary gaze is met with warm, crimson eyes, and a gentle smile. Medium-length white hair, loose and draped down his sturdy shoulders, with a single red strand.
“Are you real?” Kunikuzushi asks.
“I’d hope so,” the man replies with a chuckle.
Kunikuzushi recalls art from a textbook, of a god with a similar appearance.
Lord Kaedehara Kazuha, born of Greater Lord Rukkhadevata. Beezlebub’s believers always thought of Kaedehara’s people to be strange, outlandish, and at times disgusting.
As the God of Nature and Life, Kaedehara celebrated each person’s differences. He loved all, regardless of their looks or previous actions.
Of course, being the God of Life included being the God of Fertility, Kunikuzushi had heard many… Strange tales of rituals and worship to Lord Kaedehara.
Kunikuzushi tries not to judge the religious practice of others.
“You’ve been staring an awfully long time,” he says.
“You’re a God, aren’t you?” Kunikuzushi replied, “What the fuck else do I do?”
Another laugh escapes Kaedehara.
“Well, it's certainly one way of processing it. Though, rest assured, you have known me for quite some time."
Kunikuzushi's brows furrow once more as Kaedehara only smiles warmly.
"The crows."
"Crows like to find something pretty, and then take it home, do they not? I thought maybe it was a fitting way to follow you," he confirmed.
Kunikuzushi blushed, shaking his head in disapproval. Kaedehara brings the smaller one closer to his chest, so close that Kunikuzushi can hear the other's heart beating in his chest. Kaedehara sits down against the marble flooring, yet keeps Kunikuzushi close to him. He inspects Kunikuzushi's bruised knees with care, as Kunikuzushi clutches to the other's dark haori, colored in orange and red leaves.
A necklace hands from the god's neck. A silver charm, shaped into a feather, paired with a few black beads.
"Pretty, isn't it?" Kaedehara said, taking Kunikuzushi's hand into his to inspect the bloody knuckles, "It was a wedding gift."
With a brush of his thumb, the dried blood on his knuckles seemed to clear up, washing away gently and only leaving the wounds.
"I didn't know you were married," Kunikuzushi answers, finally.
Kaedehara's smile turns sad, "It was a very long time ago. He's no longer by my side."
Kunikuzushi bites back an apology.
"I can't imagine how tired you must be, I'd be happy to open those doors for yo-"
"Don't leave me," Kunikuzushi begs.
His grip tightens on Kaedehara's haori, and the words that feel out of his mouth seemed involuntary. He glances off to the side, maybe embarrassed at the moment of weakness.
"You can do as you please," Kaedehara says, finally, "Whether that be to follow me, venture out into the world, or even stay here. I'm only giving you a choice."
With a bit of maneuvering, Kaedehara helps Kunikuzushi to stand. His touch is gentle, as though Kunikuzushi were glass, it makes Kunikuzushi's stupid heart flutter. The legends and artwork were true, Lord Kaedehara is a beautiful man by all means.
His crimson eyes meet Kunikuzushi's once more, and within a blink of an eye, he's gone. There's the fluttering of wings outside the altar, soon enough the marble doors open.
What stands in front of the entrance, into the dark night, is Kaedehara with a crow perched on his hand.
Part of Kunikuzushi wonders what will happen if he leaves. If Yae will behead him, as she did to the oni all those years ago. Or even just let him go free. He felt even more nervous about leaving the only place he'd ever known as home.
Yet, as the crow flutters away and Kaedehara turns back to Kunikuzushi, his anxiety settles. Something about Kaedehara pulls him closer, like a magnet to a paperclip.
Kunikuzushi's fingers curl into his palm as he chases after Kaedehara grasping at the god's arm.
"You said crows tend to take the pretty thing they find home, right?"