A raindrop for pompomshoes! (3/4)

[stormies]

Part III: Transition

For someone who’s literally the god of procreation, Matsumoto Jun hesitates a lot for Sho’s liking.

He doesn’t respond immediately, instead remains sitting there frozen as Sho kisses him, even as Sho maneuvers himself onto the man’s lap to make things easier for them both.

But when he finally does, Sho is left breathless and wanting more, arching against him. A hand settles at the small of his back, the other cupping his nape, and Sho finds himself being kissed deeply, a tongue mapping the ridges in his mouth, only drawing back when Sho himself feels the need to breathe.

Dazed, he can only utter the man’s name like a reverent prayer.

“Jun.”

Something snaps in him then, something Sho sees himself. As if whispering his name in such a way has ignited something in him, something wild and fierce that threatens to envelop them both, and Sho smiles against his mouth and says it again.

“Jun.”

Hands reach up to cup his face, and it’s all the warning Sho gets before Jun kisses him once more, hard and unyielding, like they’re running out of time and he’s afraid of not having enough, of Sho disappearing.

The need almost blinds Sho, but he manages to pull back, licking away the glistening thread of saliva that got caught between their lips. “Don’t rush,” he husks, smiling at how Jun’s long lashes are tickling his cheek as the man opens his eyes.

When their eyes meet, Sho kisses the corner of his mouth.

“We didn’t have time before, but we have time now,” he tells Jun, who shudders in his arms, overwhelmed. “There’s no need to hurry.”

The next kiss he receives is soft, a peck that is quickly followed by another that lasts longer and eventually turns deeper, but slower. It’s dizzying and sweet, and if Sho melts in his arms because of it, he has no further complaints.

“I've wanted you since then, Sho-san,” Jun admits, punctuating it with a teasing brush of his lips against Sho’s. “Being married to you didn’t do a thing to change that.”

“You have to be really stupid to think that it’s not the same for me,” Sho tells him, causing him to laugh, and Sho decides that feeling Jun’s laugh against his cheek is better than just hearing it. “I didn’t make a griller catch fire just because I wanted to cause a scene.”

“I told you,” Jun says, smiling in that manner that drives Sho mad with want, “you didn’t have to do such a thing to get my attention.” Jun searches his eyes, thumb running across Sho’s bottom lip. “You have all of it.”

It’s Sho who leans in again this time, keeping each kiss slow, lingering. If they both wanted each other, they should have done this a long time ago. Instead of Jun disappearing because of a misunderstanding, they could’ve just made up like this.

Sho almost wants to shake his head at how long it took for them to get here, but he’s too busy enjoying how Jun’s tongue feels against his own that he has to put that thought aside.

They make out leisurely, hands exploring, indulging. Sho finally knows the feel of Jun’s toned chest under his palms, and he commits it all to memory. If he’s being handsy, Jun utters no complaint. If anything, Sho’s being touched in equal measure until Jun’s hands settle on his hips.

Sho can feel himself stir, a minor discomfort between his legs that he tries to relieve by shifting, but what he accomplishes instead is brushing himself against Jun, and the sudden friction turns him boneless.

He trembles in Jun’s hold, mouth catching onto the hollow of Jun’s throat and sucking there.

“This isn’t your doing, is it?” Sho husks as he gives in to another piston of his hips, the action making him groan as heat spreads in him like wildfire.

He feels Jun pause, and he manages to pull back to look at his face. He’s so flushed, the tinge of pink adding to his attractiveness, and Sho burns.

He wants so much that when he licks his lips, he can almost taste it. Tangy and heady, and quickly turning to a desperate need that he’s not certain for long he’d be able to control, but he wants to try his best.

When Jun tilts his head to the side and smiles, Sho wants to forego talking and kiss that smirk off his face.

“You mean making you horny?” Jun asks, and the cheek that Sho has seen in the stall with the darts game earlier is back, that sleazy confidence that’s really hot, his desire coiling in his gut.

“Oh, don’t tell me it’s you,” Sho says, planting a palm flat on Jun’s chest, right over where he can feel the staccato pounding of his heart. “Is making out with you an aphrodisiac on its own?”

Jun laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides, and Sho doesn’t have it in him to feel offended, not when he’s still in the lap of a very attractive man that’s holding him like he’s something precious.

“It doesn’t work on you,” Jun says with a shake of his head. At Sho’s confusion, he smiles. “My power, I mean. I blessed this place earlier, that’s true, but it doesn’t work on you. You’re a god, Sho-san. None of my powers work against other gods, unless they specifically ask for my blessing.”

Sho decides he’s heard enough, and he captures Jun’s mouth in another searing kiss, one that wipes that self-satisfied grin off his face. He kisses Jun until the taste grows familiar on his tongue and they’re both no longer content with just exchanging heated kisses.

It’s Jun who breaks off this time, mouth travelling from Sho’s mouth to his jaw, down to the column of his throat. Sho lets him, his back arching, and he feels one of Jun’s large hands settle at his back, supporting him.

“I would’ve worshipped you,” Jun whispers against flesh, and Sho gives in to a quiet moan, “had I been mortal still.”

Fingers slide under his shirt and Sho’s eyes snap open, finding Jun looking at him, and it takes a moment for him to realize that his permission is being sought.

He nods in assent, and Jun lifts his shirt. Sho maneuvers his shoulders accordingly, helping him remove it, and with him half-naked, he gasps at the feeling of cool air hitting his skin, something Jun soothes with his hot mouth that sucks on Sho’s collarbone.

“I would’ve tried hard to win your favor, I think,” Jun whispers against his sternum, and Sho shudders when he feels Jun’s tongue trace the line of bone. “If I were mortal and I knew that you are the marriage god. I would’ve stayed unmarried for you, even. If it meant I’d have your attention at least once.”

Sho groans when a tongue flicks over one of his nipples, followed by a suck that sends pleasure cascading down his spine, making his toes curl.

“Jun,” he says, breathless and out of it, and still wanting more.

He feels a finger tilt his chin to the side, and he follows, unable to do anything else.

“If I were still mortal,” Jun says over his heart, “I would’ve given anything to hear you say my name like that.”

His fingers trace over Sho’s lips, and Sho opens his mouth to suck on them just as Jun scatters kisses all over his chest. With how fast he’s coming undone, Sho thinks it won’t take much for him to completely unravel. Jun is handling him so well, and surrender never felt as effortless and easy as this.

Jun pulls his fingers free, dragging the now wet digits down Sho’s neck until they reach Sho’s other nipple, and the subsequent pinch that is delivered there sends Sho shivering, his entire body so attuned to everything that is Jun.

“I would have been completely devoted to you,” Jun says, and Sho has heard enough.

He gets his hands in Jun’s hair and yanks, pulling Jun back, delighting in the surprised gasp he elicits from the man’s lush mouth.

Sho smiles before kissing him, his other hand moving with purpose until it slips inside and finds Jun, who arches against him the moment he takes hold.

“Pray to me, then,” he whispers against Jun’s mouth, and the moan he receives when he delivers a squeeze sends a rush that makes his head swim with lust.

Jun’s grip on him tightens, his thighs trembling beneath Sho as Sho moves his hand.

He hears his name and he nips on Jun’s ear in response.

“Pray.”

“Please,” is what he hears next, and he rewards Jun with a swipe of his tongue against the shell of Jun’s ear. Jun shudders, a full body quake that only makes Sho bolder.

He tightens his grip fractionally, but the effect is instantaneous. Jun releases a moan that Sho immediately wants to hear again, so he strokes once, twice, and revels at the sight of someone so beautiful losing himself.

He plants a kiss to Jun’s chin before nipping at the angle of his jaw.

“Your god can’t hear you,” he tells Jun, and he punctuates it with a squeeze.

Jun groans, the sound so guttural and raw that it drives Sho mad.

“Sho,” Jun whispers between them, so needy and honest, his eyes pleading when Sho pulls back to examine his face.

Sho strokes his cheek with his other hand, keeping it affectionate and doting, and Jun leans to his touch, mouth pressing a kiss to the white of his wrist.

“What do you want?” Sho asks him.

When their eyes meet, Sho thumbs at the beauty mark under his bottom lip.

“Your god is listening now,” he says. “Tell him what you want.”

“Let me touch you,” is the answer he receives, making him pause. “If I have your favor, allow me to worship you.”

Sho presses a hard kiss on his mouth for that, muffling his yes there, and Jun wastes no time. His fingers are deft and quick when they find the catch of Sho’s jeans, and soon, Sho is groaning his relief against Jun’s lips as Jun’s hand finds him.

He wraps his free arm around Jun’s shoulders, his knees keeping him propped on top of Jun as he straddles the man to a more comfortable position, one that allows him to thrust against Jun’s grip and lets Jun do the same.

The friction nearly blinds him because of how good it is, more so when they find a rhythm together, the tip of his cock brushing against Jun’s with each push of his hips forward.

He presses his forehead against Jun’s, his eyes sliding shut as he loses himself in pleasure, the world fading around him. All he knows is Jun, the feel of his mouth, the texture of his hand, the warmth of his breath, and the steady pounds of his heart.

“Mortal or not,” he hears Jun say, and it makes his eyes snap open, “I would’ve been yours anyway.”

A flick of Jun’s wrist finally sends him over the edge, and Sho lets the pleasure flood him, white bliss spreading over his eyes. He trembles as he gives in, spilling between them, and eventually he collapses against Jun, face mashed against his neck as he tries to catch his breath.

Then he senses a twitch in his hold, and feels Jun’s grip on his hip tighten.

Amused and slightly in awe of his self-control, Sho can only reward him with a kiss, one that he presses against Jun’s raging pulse.

“Oh, Jun,” he says, fond. “You’ve been so good.”

He hears the hitch of Jun’s breath, feels Jun’s corresponding tremor, and runs his thumb over the slit—the only warning he’ll give.

“Come for me,” he says this time, timing it with a stroke and a firm squeeze, and Jun shudders with finality.

Sho watches then, a little dazed, as Jun falls apart, his lips parting in bliss. It made for such a breathtaking sight, one that made Sho feel invincible, having a god come undone in his arms.

Divinity right under his fingertips.

When Jun slowly opens his eyes, Sho takes in his flushed face and reaches for his hand, kissing the white of his wrist in combined adoration and reverence.

--

They move to the bed eventually, after they both cleaned up and Jun has fussed enough about their ruined clothes like he can’t magically will it to be as good as new with the help of the glamor.

Once on the bed, Sho drapes himself over him like he’s always wanted to do, that broad chest within reach and something he can caress repeatedly.

One of Jun’s hands finds its place at his back, thumb tracing his spine, while the other is clutching at his forearm.

“Do you think when Nino thought of this arrangement, he also thought that something like this would happen?” he asks. It’s been on his mind for a while; Nino always gave off the air that he’s one of the smartest deities in the Plain of High Heaven, and that nothing gets past him.

“Nino is the last person I want to think of right now,” Jun says, his voice reverberating against Sho’s cheek because Sho’s lying on top of him.

Sho laughs. “He’s fond of you, I think. Aiba-san too.”

“They’re like siblings to me,” Jun says. “Annoying elder ones, at that.”

Sho rearranges himself, planting his forearms on Jun’s chest, situating his body between Jun’s legs as he rests his head against his forearms. Like this, he has the view of Jun’s chest before him, and he can see every expression Jun makes.

He feels Jun’s fingers in his hair, the touch soothing that it makes him hum in contentment.

“I think Nino could’ve predicted this,” Sho tells him.

The predictable arch of the eyebrow makes him smile.

“How so?” Jun asks, unconvinced.

“Well, I’m quite expressive,” Sho says. “My face, I mean. So I think, the moment you volunteered, he could tell if he looked at me at least once.”

“Could tell what?”

Sho makes sure he’s not breaking eye contact; he wants to see how hard Jun can blush when what he’s about to say will inevitably embarrass him.

“That the moment I saw you, I thought you were the most beautiful god in the Plain of High Heaven,” he says plainly, honestly.

Jun weathers his stare for a moment, then he turns away, the tips of his ears reddening as he picks up the nearest pillow and hides behind it.

Sho laughs, absolutely tickled by the sight. He attempts to grab the pillow to shove it away, but Jun doesn’t let go. “Why are you so embarrassed? It’s the truth! Ask Fuma!”

“Stop mentioning other people’s names while we’re like this,” Jun complains, not letting go of the pillow.

Sho muffles his giggles against Jun’s abdomen then, grinning when he feels the muscles tense under his lips. “All right, I’ll stop,” he promises. “But it’s true. I’m not just teasing. I did think that the moment I saw you. And when I found out who you were, I stopped questioning it. I thought it makes sense that the fertility god would look this good.”

For a moment, there’s no response, so Sho contents himself with having Jun under him, his warmth providing the kind of comfort that’s incredibly tempting to bask in.

Then, from behind the pillow: “Are you done?”

Sho lifts his head to peer at him, and he snorts in amusement. “You’re really awful at taking compliments. It’s a little surprising, considering who you are.”

In Sho’s opinion, a god dedicated to procreation that happens to really look the part should have no ounce of shame when receiving compliments. But no, Jun is incredibly shy, and has taken to hiding his face behind a pillow because what Sho said proved to be too much for him.

It’s cute, but he doesn’t quite get it.

“It’s a little different when it’s coming from you,” Jun says as he lowers the pillow, eventually placing it back on their side. His cheeks are still tinged with pink. “If you said those to me back when I was still your staff auditor, I wouldn’t have been able to take it, I think.”

“Oh?” Sho asks, bracing his palms on Jun’s sides to pull himself up, his face now in Jun’s space. “That much?”

Jun avoids his eyes when he admits, “I really liked you for a long time.”

“If that was the case, why did you leave?” Sho asks. He knows it’s a bit unfair to do so; he wasn’t exactly the kind of person who’d be willing to start something with his kouhai had Jun decided to take a leap of faith at the time.

Jun seems to understand this, his expression patient, eyes devoid of judgment. “I may have appeared naïve to you, Sho-san, but I wasn’t that naïve to think something could’ve happened between us.”

“Well,” Sho says with a small smile, “you might be right about that.”

“And I had to,” Jun adds this time, returning Sho’s smile. “I thought I’d quickly get over you once I went somewhere else.” He laughs then, and Sho resists the urge to kiss him. “Funny how that didn’t happen, in the end. The moment I saw you in the Great Hall, everything just came rushing back and I just...knew.”

Warmth blooms in Sho’s chest then, his elation difficult to mask so he doesn’t bother. Instead, he presses his forehead against Jun’s, takes his next breaths in his space.

“If you told all of this to me earlier, that poor griller needn’t have suffered,” Sho muses.

When Jun laughs again, it sends him laughing as well, his heart so full it might burst.

If there’s anyone larger who’s at work here, Sho hopes they’ll listen to his wish and lets him keep this.

--

Returning to their apartment feels different now that they have a better understanding of one another. Before, some of their conversations would end in a stilted, awkward silence and either of them would make attempts to deflect should the topic shift to something uncomfortable, but now…

Now, Sho thinks, even the silence is good. He no longer feels like he has to fill it, and he finds that he doesn’t mind if it lingers. Things proceed as they always do: Jun still leaves the apartment from time to time to check up on his shrines and communicate with the High Heaven, and Sho regularly checks in with Fuma, who also dutifully updates him regarding the High Heaven’s affairs.

And when Jun comes back, they talk. Sometimes they don’t, but Sho is beginning to enjoy those moments too, because they give him the chance to simply observe how Jun maneuvers himself in an environment he’s comfortable in.

There’s something endearing about seeing someone he cares about being comfortable around him.

Given recent events, Sho’s thoughts often flit to Jun, especially when the man isn’t around.

Fuma noticing that, however, is something Sho didn’t take into account.

“Sho-kun,” he hears Fuma say, for what must be the nth time because there’s a certain stress to the syllables, something Sho only hears when someone is deliberately trying to get his attention. “Are you all right?”

Sho blinks, somewhat thankful that these arrays don’t really let Fuma see his face. If he was thinking of Jun, he hopes Fuma doesn’t know. “Yes. What were you saying?”

“I recently had to update the list of marriages you’ve blessed in your tenure,” Fuma informs him, his tone conversational. “Thank you very much for your hard work in the Manifested World.”

That confuses Sho, because he can hardly remember blessing a marriage as of late. “How many names did you add?”

“For this week or in general?” Fuma asks back.

Sho’s surprise is evident; he’s certain Fuma can discern that when he says, “I didn’t actively bless any marriage as of late.” In fact, Sho can’t remember a time he blessed any marriage other than his own, and that one certainly worked out for him. “So how is this possible? Did any of the bells ring?”

“The bells do ring intermittently, with the latest one happening around a day or two ago if we’re going with the mortal time,” Fuma tells him. Then: “Are you quite certain you didn’t bless any?”

“None in recent memory, I’m sure,” Sho says. “How do you know when to update that list, anyway?”

“As I’m the current aide assigned to the Deity of Matrimony, all matrimonial affairs received by the Lower Heaven are subsequently forwarded to me,” Fuma explains. “It’s up to me to segregate the information, of course, but I’ve done the same work for the Deity of Prosperity before, and no offense, Sho-kun, but the workload this time is lighter that I’m certain my records are accurate. Besides, the list updates itself whenever a deity bestows their blessing. It’s only up to me to countercheck it with the information forwarded by the Lower Heaven.”

“How many marriages have I blessed so far?” Sho asks him.

“Including yours, I have eleven on the list.”

If Sho can gawk at him, he would. “My marriage is on the same list?”

“Yes,” Fuma says. “Did you not bless your marriage to the Deity of Fertility? Prior to your descent to the Manifested World, at that.”

“I did,” Sho acknowledges, but he didn’t think that would be on the same list. But then again, why wouldn’t it? It was the first time he bestowed his blessing. “Does that record mean that it’s binding?”

“You’re the Deity of Matrimony, Sho-kun,” Fuma says simply, like that’s the explanation Sho would ever need.

Sho takes a deep, calming breath before he asks, “Who else knows about this?”

“About the list?”

“About my marriage, I mean,” he elaborates.

“The Plain of High Heaven is often updated regarding the spiritual and heavenly affairs involving every deity that resides in it,” Fuma says, which isn’t really an answer at all, so Sho waits. Knowing Fuma, there’s always a punchline here.

When Fuma sticks to silence, Sho sighs before prompting him. “And?”

“Naturally, this includes any changes in a deity’s status,” Fuma answers.

Simply put, everyone in the Plain of High Heaven and possibly the Lower Heaven knows.

“Oh,” is all Sho can say. Half of him is surprised that everyone knows, but then again, all those residing in the High Heaven are gods. Who knows what kind of powers they have? The other half of him is secretly delighted that everyone knows, though.

In his own selfish way, he’s pleased that every god out there knows that Jun is his.

“The Deity of Prosperity has proclaimed to everyone that he served as the matchmaker and stood as the witness to this union,” Fuma informs him pleasantly. “You’ve become the talk here, Sho-kun. They’re calling it a ‘whirlwind romance between two unlikely gods’, but the general consensus is that it’s a favorable union and everyone is supportive of it.”

“How do you even know these things?” Sho asks him. “Are you gossiping up there because you don’t have much work to do? Maybe I should find a mass wedding and bless everyone there to put you to work.”

“Sho-kun, I work diligently on your behalf and am always at your service,” Fuma says, and the way he says it reminds Sho that this is indeed someone who has worked for Nino before. The tone is very reminiscent of Nino’s own. “But when I forward your concerns to the Deity of Medicine and Healing, I always seek her counsel while she’s at the gambling den. I hear things there.”

Sho lets Fuma slide for now, focusing back on his earlier concern. “I don’t recall blessing ten other marriages.”

“The list is never wrong, Sho-kun,” Fuma says. “It cannot be manipulated; it’s independent of any divine influence and is merely a reflection of divine blessing.”

“Go to Nino,” he tells Fuma then. “Tell him about this. Show him the list if you have to and ask him what it means. If we both don’t know what to make of it, maybe he does. Maybe something else is at work here.”

“As you wish. Do you think the former marriage deity has found a way to cause this?” Fuma asks him. “I don’t see how doing so will benefit them.”

“We both don’t,” Sho tells him. “But if there’s anyone who can, it’s Nino. I’ll check back sometime after. Inform me then.”

“Very well,” Fuma says. “I will take my leave, Sho-kun. On behalf of the Lower Heaven, we thank the Deity of Matrimony for his recent efforts in the Manifested World.”

“Until then,” Sho says, and the array grows silent and fades to nothingness, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

The answer comes that night, right after he just finished informing Jun of his recent discovery.

As soon as Sho is done relaying what happened with his conversation with Fuma, Jun makes a thoughtful expression before he opens his palm.

Bright, yellow light bursts from between his fingers, the shine becoming muted as the energy sizzles and turns into wisps. The world seems to disappear around them, this space solely existing independent from the passage of time.

“Just in time,” Jun says. “Come on in.”

“J, is Sho-chan there?” comes the drawl that is unmistakably Nino’s. “I sense him. Good.” Then he pauses, tone turning contemplative when he speaks once more. “I never sensed you so vividly before.”

“You never communicated with me while he’s around,” Jun points out.

“That’s true,” Nino acknowledges. “But then, I seem to recall Ryoko-san telling me before that you two spoke with her at the same time. Did she sense you back then, Sho-chan? I know you’re there—it’s kind of hard to deny even if I see neither of you.”

Sho tries his best to recall. “She asked if I was here when we spoke with her.”

“So she couldn’t sense you,” Nino concludes. Then he laughs. “Fuma came to me a while back, showing me an interesting list. You really have no recollection of blessing ten other marriages in your stay there?”

“None,” Sho says with a shake of his head, despite Nino not seeing it.

“Are we supposed to watch out for something his predecessor might do?” Jun asks this time. He always gets to the point; he’s never patient when it comes to what they have to do, and Sho appreciates that about him.

“What I’m about to tell you is mere speculation, because unless Ryoko-san herself descends down there or you return here, we cannot tell for certain,” Nino prefaces, and now all of Sho’s focus is on his voice. “But if Sho-chan here has managed to bless ten marriages without his knowledge, then you two may have to watch your backs even more than you already do.”

“Is it their doing, then?” Sho asks. “If it is, how did they accomplish it?”

“It’s not them, Sho-chan,” Nino says, and Sho can tell that he’s smiling. “It’s you.”

Sho blinks. “Me?”

He looks at Jun, who now has a knowing look on his face and something like...pride in his eyes. It throws Sho off a bit, to be looked at like that when they’re not exactly in private.

“Your influence is growing,” Nino explains. “The people are believing in you once more. And while you don’t recall voluntarily blessing a marriage, you may have done it unconsciously. Has anything made you particularly happy as of late? Something momentous that we can correlate to this sudden generosity you have no knowledge of bestowing until now?” When Sho doesn’t respond, he adds, “When Aiba-san is particularly happy, someone hits the jackpot at the lottery.”

The only recent event Sho can remember being happy about involved a festival and a love hotel, and judging from the look he shares with Jun, he knows he cannot tell Nino that. For both their sakes.

“That’s one blessing in Aiba-kun’s case,” Jun says suddenly, and Sho is grateful they cannot see Nino’s face right now. The man is shrewd and is perhaps the sharpest deity in the Plain of High Heaven; this simple deflection would speak volumes for him. “This is a matter of ten blessings. Wouldn’t that mean ten different occasions of happiness for him?”

“The list never lies, J,” Nino says. “The list Fuma showed to me revealed ten marriages blessed at the same time. The release of a power like that is something I haven’t done myself. When I’m feeling good, someone gets a job promotion somewhere, and that’s it.”

You’ve gotten stronger, Jun said to him once. He didn’t believe it then.

“They’re believing in him again,” Nino continues, “and that has made him stronger. Strong enough that when he felt particularly good at one point, he managed to bless the mortals without even hearing their prayers. Has he done something you didn’t expect?”

“He managed to teleport us without using my energy, but his own,” Jun answers.

“Sho-chan,” Nino says, and Sho can sense the pride in his tone, “you’re no longer that god who fainted in my pavilion. Have you asked Fuma regarding the recent changes to Red-crowned Crane Pavilion? After this, I’m itching to visit the place to see for myself.”

If his influence is growing as Nino is suggesting, his pavilion has manifested just how much. Now that Sho thinks about it, he never asked Fuma about the state of the pavilion. It’s always about what’s going on in the Plain of High Heaven.

“Do they know this?” he finds himself asking, because that’s what they’re all thinking now.

“It’ll be naïve of us to think that they don’t,” Nino says. “If even I can sense you in a way I wasn’t able to before, despite you being down there, then we can assume that they know. I told you before that it goes both ways for you and your predecessor. What strengthens them has weakened you, and now that you’re getting stronger…”

“They’re growing weaker,” Sho finishes for him. “They won’t just stand around and let this happen.”

“No, they won’t,” Nino affirms. “It’s apparent to me that your strength is tied to your happiness. You’ve always been a little too transparent, Sho-chan. Perhaps the mortals around you see how happy you are, and that has further influenced them to believe in you, thereby strengthening you. This is something your predecessor will realize, if they haven’t already.”

He has to watch out. He looks at Jun, and he knows anyone can tell.

It’s Jun that indirectly caused this surge of power in him.

“If you grow strong enough, soon, you won’t even need the energy transfers,” Nino informs him. “And if you grow stronger still, you will break Ryoko-san’s seal on your own, and your energy reserve will flow freely. You will be no different from the rest of us.”

It hits Sho then: he hasn’t needed an energy transfer as of late.

“Nino,” Jun says, something Nino answers with a hum. “If they attack one of his temples, will it affect him in a negative manner now that he’s gotten stronger?”

“If he’s this strong, J, then I don’t think his predecessor has enough in them to influence anyone to desecrate one of his temples,” Nino says. “It goes both ways, remember? Even if the both of them try to influence a mortal, Sho-chan’s influence will win. He’s the stronger one now, and he’s the current marriage deity. His predecessor has long been banished.”

“So if I find them, I can bring them back,” Sho says.

“If,” Nino stresses. “I wouldn’t act rashly if I were you. They know you found a way to weaken them and they won’t just sit around and wait for you to come. Be on your guard, Sho-chan. Just because you’re stronger doesn’t mean they can no longer hurt you. We don’t quite know what we’re up against, even now.”

Sho can only nod in thanks. “All right. But I won’t sit here and wait for them to do something, either.”

“I didn’t expect you to,” Nino says with a laugh. “But be careful, both of you. If you’re looking for them, they’re definitely looking for you as well. Now that you've managed to turn the tables, they know it’s either them or you.”

“Thank you, Nino,” Sho says sincerely. “Is it better to keep the blessings to a minimum, then? In hopes of not getting too much attention?”

Nino snorts in amusement, and Sho can imagine him waving his little hands as he says, “After you bestowed that massive blessing that resulted in ten harmonious marriages, you want to turn it down and be lowkey? It’s too late for that!”

Oh, well. It was worth a shot, Sho figures.

“I want to say try not to be too happy,” Nino tells him, “but then again, we all know how hard that is to accomplish. We may be gods, but all of us were once mortal and as mortals, we were taught how to feel. So I can’t fault you if you become too happy there, but perhaps, ask our learned colleague Matsumoto Jun on how you can better control your abilities?”

If Nino is implying something else with that suggestion, Sho resolves to ignore it entirely. He won’t use the official communication array of the prosperity deity to be indignant.

“I’ll do that,” Sho says, despite Jun being right there. “Thanks again, Nino.”

“I’ll see myself out,” Nino says. “Should anything happen, of course, you’re welcome to inform me at once. Not just J, but you as well, Sho-chan.”

The array grows silent then, and the wisps of yellow dissipate like smoke and fade, the room reverting back to its original state. Sho feels the disappearance of that private space too keenly—the sounds around him flood his senses at once, a reminder that the world around them has resumed its course once more.

Sho presses a hand against his forehead in hopes of adjusting to the overstimulation to his senses faster. “Did he say I can inform him of any developments?”

He hears an affirmative hum from Jun. “With your growing abilities, you can use the same kind of array now, one that can directly put you in communication with any god in the High Heaven. No need to ask Fuma to relay the message for you if it’s urgent.”

Sho faces him, and is greeted with the sight of concerned eyes.

“Are you all right?” Jun asks.

“Yes,” Sho says. “It’s just a little too much for me when all the sounds come in after the silence. But I’m okay now.”

“What are you thinking?” Jun suddenly asks, stepping closer to where Sho is.

A lot of things, but the most pressing one for Sho is something Jun might be able to answer, so he asks, “How do I stop bestowing my blessing unconsciously?”

Jun gives a contemplative hum, a finger tapping against his bottom lip as he ponders. It’s quite distracting, but Sho doesn’t look away.

Then Jun inclines his head towards the kitchen. “I’ll make something while we talk about this. Come.”

Jun makes omurice, and Sho can’t exactly help himself from digging in and moaning happily as soon as he samples it. He loves omurice, and with Jun making it according to what he likes, it’s a little difficult to control his emotions.

Jun is looking at him when he asks, “How did it feel?”

Cheeks stuffed, Sho has to swallow a few times before he can respond. “What?”

“How happy were you exactly when you bestowed your blessing? Nino said it’s something that happened in recent memory.”

At that, Sho can feel heat spread from the back of his neck, climbing steadily upwards. He takes a generous sip of water and focuses on the omurice instead. “Apparently I was very happy? That I was able to perform such a feat?”

The unimpressed look that Jun gives him doesn’t escape his periphery. “Winning that stay in the love hotel pleased you that much?”

Sho glares at him this time, unable to decide if Jun’s being obtuse on purpose or merely teasing him. Either way, he’s unamused by it. “If I’m to pinpoint which event triggered those blessings exactly, I’d say it was everything that happened in that love hotel, so yes, maybe I was happy when I won that. Can we focus on my question now? I’d really like to control this power I now seem to have.”

To his further annoyance, Jun grins. He’s sitting across Sho, the kitchen counter between them, and he has his elbows locked on the surface as he leans forward and studies Sho’s face.

“Of the two of us, Sho-san, I really thought it’d be me who would have this problem of being unable to control their abilities after reaching orgasm,” Jun says, tongue against his cheek, and Sho shuts his eyes to simply not see him anymore.

It’s too much. Put like that, it’s quite shameful.

“Ten marriages at the same time,” Jun drawls, and Sho wishes for the ground to open up and swallow him whole. It would be preferable. He knows he’s completely red by now.

“You blessed an entire building that night,” Sho reminds him.

“On the day of festivities dedicated to me, so my power at the time was considerably stronger,” Jun counters, and Sho has to admit, Jun has him there. “Besides, that love hotel wasn’t even fully booked.”

“Ten is not a high number,” Sho says.

“It is when the god concerned has bestowed it not in a single area alone,” Jun says. “I’ll rephrase my question: you really didn’t notice when you did it?”

“No,” Sho says. “I felt nothing different. If Fuma didn’t casually mention it earlier, I wouldn’t have known either.”

“This is the seal’s doing, I think,” Jun says, his voice serious now. “Because Ryoko-san’s seal remains potent, your own spiritual energy cannot connect with your spiritual reserve. So you don’t feel it when you use it. Even though it’s your own energy and not the one I transferred to you.”

“Then I can’t control it?” Sho asks.

“I didn’t say that.” Sho watches him pop open a can of beer and take a sip. “There might be a workaround to doing so. I never had my reserve sealed so I’m aware whenever I bless someone, but still. You exercised your divine power when you blessed those people. If it’s tied to your emotions, then…”

“I just have to control my emotions,” Sho finishes for him.

Jun nods. “Precisely. What exactly did that night make you feel that somehow resulted in this?”

Sho has to finish the rest of his meal before he answers. It’s a little too honest and open, but it’s the truth. “I felt like I could do anything.”

He notices the shift in Jun’s expression, the understanding that sets in his eyes, the way his mouth parts ever so slightly in something like awe.

That night, it was the way Jun responded to his touch, his words, to each kiss. That night, it was the way Jun fell apart in his touch—Sho never felt so in control before, so certain, so confident.

Being with Jun that night made him feel like a god.

“That’s the one you have to control,” Jun says, but Sho doesn’t miss how the words were uttered in a deeper timbre. “That’s the one that made it possible. Whenever you feel like that, you bless someone. Or multiple people all at once.”

At that, Sho can’t help laughing. “I can’t exactly control how you make me feel, Matsujun,” he confesses. Then he shrugs. “But I guess I’ll try.”

He jolts when he feels fingers under his chin, curling there to have him stare at Jun’s eyes.

“Don’t worry,” Jun says, every word laced with promise. “I’ll teach you.”

--

Despite Sho’s anticipation for these tutorial sessions that Jun has heavily implied, the first time doesn’t really happen until it’s been a long time since their conversation with Nino.

The only proof of Sho’s growing strength so far is him no longer needing an energy transfer as of late. Which somehow disappoints him since he’s grown accustomed to Jun taking care of him whenever he needs one, and he kind of enjoyed being pampered whenever that happened.

Jun is the one who seems delighted by this development, however, whenever he gauges Sho’s energy levels for himself, he draws away with a satisfied grin.

“If we join the barbecue next weekend, do you think everyone will have to watch out for the entire building burning by the end of it?” Jun asks, and Sho rolls his eyes so as not to preen at the pride he sees in Jun’s eyes.

“That depends on you, actually,” he shoots back, and Jun laughs.

“I never took you for a jealous type, Sho-san.”

“You inspire tendencies in me that I had no idea existed,” Sho tells him with a shake of his head. “Should we be worried then? If I’m getting stronger, something is bound to happen one of these days, right?”

“I have to agree with you there; it’s been a long time since we saw them last,” Jun notes. “Do you want to try to find them?”

Sho’s gaze moves to where the laptop is. “I looked up the divorce rates in Kochi the other day. And well, the numbers are still high, but they’re not as high as before. If they’re still at work there but my influence is countering theirs...they will come to us, don’t you think?”

“At their state right now, they can’t draw you out like they did in Kochi,” Jun states with a nod. “You might be right. So we wait then? Unless something’s amiss and you haven’t told me.”

Sho shakes his head, then he reconsiders. “Well, we are invited to a housewarming party tomorrow.” At Jun’s frown, he hums. “We’re no longer the new neighbors. Another couple moved in recently, and Suzuki-san and Ando-san organized this welcome for them.”

“You said it’s a housewarming party,” Jun says.

“It is,” Sho says.

“Isn’t that supposed to be organized by the couple themselves and not the nosy neighbors?” Jun asks.

Sho grins, reaching out to pat his cheek. “Not when the neighbors already know who they are and are rather insistent. You see, Tanaka-san’s daughter is the one who got married and is moving in with her new husband. Surely you remember her.”

Recognition flashes over Jun’s eyes. “Do we have to bring them a present?”

“I believe that’s the tradition, yes,” Sho says. “Why? Do you have something in mind?”

Jun nods. When he speaks, what he says makes Sho cackle, loud and somewhat obnoxious, the sound echoing in the entire apartment.

“A griller.”

--

The housewarming party happens in one of the apartments on the floor below, and when Sho politely inquires, the new couple moved into the same apartment complex as the girl’s parents because said parents are moving back to the countryside.

The housewarming party is also a farewell party for the Tanakas, and somehow, Sho is glad that he and Jun found the time for this. Unlike the Suzukis and the Andos, the Tanakas mosty minded their own business. If they gossip about Sho’s marriage, they certainly didn’t do it right where Sho can catch them.

Besides, the elderly Tanaka is like a mother to Sho, because she somehow reminds Sho of his own mother with the way she fusses at how Sho dresses himself. She’s kind to him, and Sho thinks he will truly miss her when she moves back to Aichi.

Alcohol comes in the form of beer cans, and Sho finds himself engaging in small talk with his usual circle consisting of housewives. He’s the only househusband there, but they don’t really treat him differently and dote on him, rather.

Hayashi-san from four doors down is the one who passes him another homemade pain au chocolat, something he accepts graciously. “Sho-kun,”she says, “your cheeks are slimming.”

She sounds so despondent about it that it makes Sho laugh.

“It’s not that bad, surely,” he tells her.

The other women nod in agreement, however. “Are you not eating enough?” Then Hayashi-san scoots closer, leaning in conspiratorially, “Do you have any troubles as of late? You can always tell us.”

Ando-san and Suzuki-san nod eagerly, and Sho catches one of them throwing a furtive glance to where Jun is.

Jun is currently extending his well-wishes to the happy couple while also thanking the girl’s parents for their hospitality. Sho hears his name from Jun’s lips at least once, and hears the elderly Tanaka respond positively.

“We’re good,” Sho says sincerely. He samples the pain au chocolat and smiles. “This is really great, Hayashi-san. If you ever think of starting a small business, please don’t hesitate to tell me.”

“Oh, Sho-kun, that’s very nice of you to say,” Hayashi tells him, beaming. She’s a little older than Sho is, and if the words that reach Sho are to be believed, her husband is a frequent absentee as of late. Perhaps she’s projecting her own marital troubles onto him.

“I mean it,” he says to keep the conversation going, then he hears it.

Hayashi’s thoughts, to be exact. It’s taken him less time to discern them, and he’s not even exerting a lot of effort to do so.

If they’re not divorcing, then perhaps something can also be done for my case.

The words make him pause, and it takes Ando-san snapping her fingers in front of him to get his attention once more.

“Sho-kun, are you all right?” she asks with a laugh. “We lost you for a moment there!”

Sho has to flash her what he hopes to be a reassuring smile in order to mask his thoughts. He somehow figured out what Hayashi is going through even before he read her mind. Somehow, he knew this person had problems with their marriage.

The knowledge feels intuitive to him, and hearing their thoughts subsequently has merely served as a confirmation.

He looks at Hayashi and finds himself wishing there’s something he can do for her. She may not be as motherly as the elderly Tanaka, but she was always the first one to try to include Sho in any gathering, bribing him with sweets and any new creation she has.

“If only I wasn’t hopeless in the kitchen, I’d ask you to teach me how to bake,” Sho tells her sincerely.

That makes her smile; to Sho’s knowledge, she’s living alone on most days, with her children heading off to school and her husband to work. Said husband is notably absent now as well, something about a business trip.

Though Sho is beginning to have an inkling that it isn’t as simple as that. Something in Hayashi’s demeanor gave it away, and the longer Sho looks at her, the more Sho knows that he’s correct in his assumptions.

“I don’t like having someone else in the kitchen when I’m there,” Hayashi says in reply, one of her hands patting Sho’s arm in gratitude. “I’ll be more than happy to have you try what I bake, though.”

“I’ll be honored,” Sho says. “Truly. But wouldn’t your children—?”

“They don’t like bread very much,” Hayashi admits, almost shyly, and it earns her a pat from Suzuki, who’s sitting closer to her now.

“When kids grow up, they’d really rather do anything else than spend time with their moms,” Suzuki says to Sho. “It's why we stick together, you see?”

“And once they become independent, we’re all alone,” Ando concurs, something that earns baleful nods from the rest of the women. “We’re lucky if they remember us. Why, I barely see my own now. The last time I saw my boy, I didn’t even have the time to visit long enough.”

In a way, a tinge of guilt hits Sho at that moment. Before he died, he frequently turned down any invitations from his mother, always citing work as his reason, thinking that there’d always be a next time.

Somehow, he wishes he took the opportunity to spend more time with her before he died.

“Didn’t your son get into one of those top firms in Shibuya?” Suzuki asks, and the change of topic is welcomed, especially by Ando, who now takes the opportunity to sing praises about her offspring’s accomplishments as of late.

Sho wonders if his own mother ever felt this proud of him. Did she brag about him to people he barely knew? It was embarrassing if she did, but also...she probably did it out of pride and meant nothing untoward by it.

He offers to get them a new round of drinks, something they thank him for, and when he heads to the kitchen, he nearly collides with Jun.

Except Jun’s reflexes are something to behold since he manages to grasp Sho’s elbow and prevent him from stumbling back.

“Careful,” Jun says. Then he looks at Sho’s face and his eyes narrow. “What is it?”

Sho looks over his shoulder before leaning in to whisper, “I think the other Hayashi is having an affair.”

The eyebrow is there, perfectly arched and judgmental as ever. “Gossiping now, Sho-san?”

Sho clicks his tongue at him. “No. No one told me that. I just...knew.”

It takes a beat for Jun to understand. But when he does, the eyebrow is replaced by a lopsided grin. “You’re starting to perceive infidelity because it’s against you. What else did you find out?”

Sho tends to the drinks, filling the glasses one by one. “The longer I stay there, the more I can hear what they’re thinking about. I feel like I’m intruding.”

“You can block their thoughts, you know,” Jun tells him.

Sho gives him a look. “You never taught me that.”

“I’ll teach you now,” Jun offers, stepping in his space. It’s probably scandalous to anyone who enters the kitchen, but Sho doesn’t have it in him to care about that for now. “If you want to read someone’s thoughts, you focus on them. It won’t take much now that you’re getting stronger. But if you want to block them, it’s as simple as turning down the volume.”

Jun moves to stand behind him, lips hovering close to his ear. “What’s Hayashi-san thinking of now?”

Sho sighs before he focuses on Hayashi; she’s the only one he can see from where he is. “She’s wondering if Ando-san’s son can help her if she needs to file for divorce.” He angles his head towards Jun. “Must we do this?”

“That’s quite an alarming thought, I have to say,” Jun whispers. “Think of turning down the volume now.”

Sho does, imagining that there’s an irritating speaker in front of him that’s blasting an unknown, autotuned song, and thinks of himself turning down the volume.

“What’s she thinking of now?” Jun asks.

Sho looks to where the women are, hearing their muted, collective laugh. No matter how hard he tries this time, he can’t hear anything else aside from the sounds of merrymaking in the apartment.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I can’t hear it.”

He feels Jun stepping back, taking the last empty glass in Sho’s hand and filling it for him.

“In time, you won’t even have to imagine anything,” Jun says. “It will simply happen if you say you don’t want to hear what they’re saying anymore.”

Jun hands him the glass, and Sho takes it.

“Thank you,” he says, meaning it, and Jun simply smiles.

--

It probably shouldn’t be a cause of worry if someone in your apartment complex might be filing for a divorce.

But to Sho, it is.

Not just because he knows the persons involved, but rather, it’s an impending event that is so close to him. Even with his presence here, the Deity of Matrimony, something like this might happen, looming in the corner and waiting to shatter his growing confidence.

It’s unexpected. If anything, the area where Sho is should be where there’s a significant increase in marital bliss. And he has the Tanaka daughter’s marriage as proof of that; the girl only decided to register their marriage after the barbecue, after all.

But now this. The Hayashis might be divorcing, and if the female Hayashi’s increasing correspondence with Sho means anything, there’s likely a huge possibility of it happening in the coming days.

Hayashi-san comes over when Jun is out, so Sho is able to entertain her and sample her newly baked goods. She was kind enough to make croissants this time, something Sho thanks her profusely for as she hands him the container.

He samples one and saves the rest for when Jun is here.

At first their conversation is light, about the affairs of other people in the apartment. Nothing too intrusive or gossipy; Hayashi seems to know that Sho is not the type to engage in neighborhood gossip.

But then she suddenly asks him when he offers to refill her tea.

“Did you and Jun-kun ever talk of separating?”

The question makes him pause, but he recovers. He’s been expecting this; without even using his ability to read minds, he somehow figured out that Hayashi didn’t stop by just to bribe him with croissants to fill his cheeks with a bit of fat, no matter how good they are.

“No,” Sho says, and it’s the truth. “We may have had problems, but we never got there.” He pours another cup of tea for her and pushes it back in her direction. “Is that what everyone used to think?”

Hayashi, at least, has the grace to hide half of her face behind her hand in shame. “I apologize.”

Sho dismisses it with a minute shake of his head. “I know what everyone’s been saying back then.”

Hayashi appears surprised, and Sho flashes her a smile. “Ando-san didn’t notice that I was right behind her when she talked about it to Suzuki-san. Even Saito-san from the corner apartment heard it.”

Hayashi lets out a shy laugh, lowering her lashes. “I’m not as forward as Ando-san. I’m sorry if the question is uncalled for.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Sho asks sincerely.

He receives a sad smile as Hayashi presses the rim of the cup against her lips. “Not unless you can make my Seiji return home.”

Sho can only look at her then, feeling powerless. Here he is, a god in mortal guise, unable to do a thing to help someone who needs it. Unlike Jun whom he coaxed to return home via calculating threats, he has no power over the other Hayashi.

He may be a god, but a mortal’s free will is stronger than any intervention aided by divinity.

“How many times has it been?” Sho finds himself asking.

Hayashi lets out a sad laugh at that, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. When she speaks, it’s not a direct answer to Sho’s question, but Sho understands enough. “I’ve prayed to whoever’s listening that he’ll come to his senses. But perhaps no one is listening.”

I’m listening, Sho wants to say, but doesn’t. He doesn’t know how to.

“It’s the children I’m worried about, you know?” Hayashi says, no longer looking at him. Her hands are trembling as she holds the cup. “The world today isn’t very kind to a single mother.”

The Hayashi children are two boys and a girl, and Sho is particularly fond of the youngest because he once caught her sitting at the stairs leading to the fire exit in deep contemplation as she tried to figure out how to do her shoelaces. He taught her then, something she thanked him for with a well-practiced bow and a toothy grin.

Thinking about that time and of the children in general makes Sho feel torn about the situation; this is an unhappy marriage already. To keep them together will be cruel to this woman, heightening her suffering as she stays by the side of someone who already broke faith with her. And yet, with another couple filing for divorce and one so close to him, he’s afraid of how it will affect his abilities.

If he intervenes, he might be nothing different from his predecessor, binding mortals to torment. Has there ever been a case of a god going against what he stands for and self-destructing in the process? Sho doesn’t know.

He doesn’t know what to do. He wants to help, but there might be no way for him to.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely, and when her tears fall, he gives her privacy by looking away and gently nudging the box of tissues in her direction. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No,” Hayashi says with a shuddering breath. “It’s all right. There’s really no one else for me to talk to about this. Everyone is busy with their lives, and no one really cares about something like this unless Seiji and I are splitting for good.” She smiles at him, her eyes still red-rimmed. “I’m happy you worked things out between you, Sho-kun. I can see how much Jun-kun cares about you. Frankly, it makes me a little envious.”

“I don’t have anything to offer you, Hayashi-san,” Sho tells her, “except for my company. If you need someone to talk to, you can always ring the doorbell. You don’t have to bring any delicious bread, though, I won’t lie, I appreciate it very much whenever you do.”

That makes her laugh, something Sho takes as a good sign. The mood has lightened between them, but her words still linger in Sho’s mind. “You should get an oven, Sho-kun. Maybe I can teach you a thing or two.”

“Jun is the one who cooks,” Sho says. “I’m utterly hopeless to the point he sends me away when he has to use the kitchen. But I’ll bring it up to him; maybe baking is the one for me.”

Her answering smile provides comfort, something Sho basks in for the rest of her stay.

Later, when Jun has returned and they finished most of the croissants together, he tells Jun about it.

“I want to help her,” he says when he’s done relaying the events from earlier. “But if I do, it might affect me negatively. You said I’m growing stronger now. Is there nothing I can do?”

“Before we think of what you can do for Hayashi-san, don’t you think the timing of this is a little too suspicious?” Jun asks. Before Sho can reply, he continues, “It’s an impending divorce happening not five doors away from where you are.”

Sho leans back against the couch then, feeling something cold wash over him.

“They found me, then,” he says, knowing it to be true. “They caused this.”

“It’s a direct slap to your growing influence,” Jun acknowledges. “They can’t influence someone to desecrate your temple, so they caused this instead. It requires less effort on their part, and if they’re growing weaker as Nino has suggested before, it’s the perfect comeback against you.”

“Do you think they’re here?” Sho asks, his voice quieter now as if anyone else can hear them.

“I won’t exclude that possibility,” Jun says. “But if they are, then they’re really good at hiding their tracks.”

“They’ve been hiding their tracks ever since,” Sho reminds him. “We don’t because we want them to notice us. And now they have, and they caused this.” He lets out a breath. “Do you know how it felt when she cried in front of me and told me that she prayed but no one listened?”

Jun doesn’t answer, merely shakes his head.

“I felt like someone destroyed something of mine again,” Sho says. “That powerless, that helpless. Now that I think about it, this has to be their doing. This is exactly how they made me feel when someone desecrated one of my temples.”

Except, unlike the last time, Sho has a face to put to the person involved. And it’s someone he’s grown to care about given the length of their association.

“What use do I have for divinity if I can’t even help those who ask for it?” he asks between them as he gathers his knees to his chest. He doesn’t look at Jun anymore; he thinks he can’t. “She said she prayed and I never heard her. And when I finally did, it’s already too late for me to do anything.”

A shuffle of movement to his side, and he can feel Jun’s eyes on him.

“If I bless their marriage, it will never erase the fact that he broke faith with her more than once already,” Sho says.

“Is that what you want to do?” he hears Jun ask, and he shakes his head.

“I want everything to be okay for Hayashi-san,” he admits. “But I don’t want to influence her into something she might regret someday. I don't want her to be happy now if it means that she won’t be in the future.”

Sho wants to do something, but he doesn’t want a quick remedy to his kind neighbor’s problems. He wants something that doesn’t bypass any mortal’s free will, and he tells Jun as much.

“If I influence them to be happy when they’re really not, then I’m nothing different from my predecessor.”

He feels a hand between his shoulder blades, a thumb caressing his nape as Jun presses close, his warmth a source of comfort for Sho. “Oh, Sho-san. You’re nothing like them. The fact that you’re this troubled over this shows that.”

He faces Jun then, and Jun reaches up to brush his hair from his eyes.

“To them, this is merely a game, and these people are the pawns,” Jun continues. “But to you, they’re people, and the fact that you don’t want to intrude in their lives anymore than you should have really sets you apart.”

Jun’s other hand finds the side of his face, cupping his cheek, and Sho leans to his touch.

“I would never have agreed to be married to you if you were as cruel as them,” Jun says.

Sho presses a kiss to his palm in response, conveying his thanks with affection rather than words. It takes him a moment to regain his composure, but Jun waits for him, his touch soothing and familiar.

Like home.

Sho basks in it for the next few moments, at the feeling of not being alone. It helps, in such a way that it’s almost nothing different from directly receiving an energy transfer, but this time, Jun is simply here, with him. No magic or influence involved.

And it’s enough.

“What do we do?” Sho asks him eventually.

“We find them,” Jun says with conviction, and Sho can see the barely suppressed rage in his eyes, “and we put an end to this.”

--

Finding them isn’t exactly easy when they’re not luring Sho into another cruel machination, instead letting said machination unfold before his eyes slowly, so that he can see every bit of deterioration that will eventually cause its inevitable collapse.

The Hayashis are divorcing.

It’s the talk of the apartment complex, and when something becomes the talk of the apartment complex, then it’s the most apparent, intriguing piece of gossip as of late. The infidelity of the male Hayashi has spread via word of mouth, embellished and exaggerated to the point that even Sho lost track of how much truth there is.

He doesn’t care much about the male Hayashi. It’s the other, aggrieved party that he’s more concerned about, and the longer this goes on, the more hopeless he feels.

He doesn’t need to be a god to tell how painful it is for his neighbor. Her eyes tell the whole story; each time she cracks a smile when he greets her, the mirth never reaches her eyes.

And when Sho finally finds the time to speak with her, disguising it as a casual inquiry regarding the ideal oven for an amateur baker, she tells him that the children are not taking it well.

“They think they will lose a father. Is it heartless of me if I tell them that we lost him quite some time ago? When it’s the truth,” she says simply, and the lack of emotion from her is what startles Sho. The last time they spoke of this, her eyes glistened with tears. But now, she’s calmer, as if she has already accepted how everything will unfold.

Sho doesn’t know how to answer. In his past life, he was fortunate enough to never experience something like what the Hayashi children are about to go through. He cannot offer anything—not even insight, it seems.

Divinity separates gods from mortals, but it’s the capacity to feel that makes gods no different from mortals. If anything, Sho thinks he’s been cursed to feel everything too keenly, too vividly now that he’s a god. All it takes is one look and he knows.

The love that once brought this union joy is now gone. Instead of warmth, there remains only a cavity, an emptiness that will always remind him of his first failure as a god. Each time he looks at Hayashi, he sees his own shortcomings.

It breaks him in a way that the desecration of his temple didn’t. If this is what his predecessor intended, then they’ve succeeded.

Hayashi’s eyes devoid of any emotion is what haunts him. Gods don’t sleep as much as mortals do, which makes everything worse, and the desperation eventually sets in that it begins eating him away, piece by piece. He feels it in his veins, etched there like a brand, a burning sigil that he can’t shake off or deny.

It’s worse than needing an energy transfer. Desperation inevitably gives way to doubt, and suddenly, Sho finds himself back to what he once was the first time he met Ohno Satoshi. He’s back to the non-believer and it hits closer now that his divinity has become more prominent.

What are gods for, he wonders, if they can’t even be relied upon?

This wasn’t the withering that Yonekura warned him about. But he withers anyway, feeling it churning in his marrow, as if biding its time. And he knows that eventually, if he lets it, it will take him under and swallow him whole, his lungs full of ash and sand.

Perhaps this is exactly what his predecessor planned for. If he self-destructs, they won’t need to do anything else. And if they’re seeing him now, then they know.

They’re winning.

He feels hands grasping his face, a gentle touch that nearly burns him because of how warm it is. Has he gone so cold? He doesn’t know, but there’s a chill in him that promises decay, a biting, harsh winter devoid of life.

“Look at me.”

Sho does; there’s something about the words that make him yield. He stares at brown eyes and sees a storm of emotions there—too much of everything all at once.

He blinks and there’s one he can recognize, and it sparks something in him because of how honest it is. How raw, how open. It’s right there for him to see all along, and briefly, he wonders.

Has Jun been looking at him like this all this time?

The thought makes his breath catch, heart thundering fiercely, perhaps in tandem with Jun’s own. He doesn’t know; he can’t hear Jun’s. He only has an awareness over his own body, this vessel he’s inhabiting that knows Jun’s touch and calls it home.

A thumb brushes against his cheek, a tenderness he thinks he hardly deserves. But he’s greedy and accepts it anyway, finds himself craving more of it.

“Look at me,” Jun says again, “and just me.”

Sho manages a nod, and one of Jun’s hands slides down to cup his nape, to hold him steady.

“Pull me back,” he hears himself say in a voice he almost doesn’t recognize. But it hacks against his throat, and it’s the only admission he can make in his state. He’s crumbling, and it’s unfair to let Jun pick up the pieces, but he’s there anyway.

He’s there and he keeps Sho afloat.

It anchors Sho to this moment, to what’s real and right in front of him. Slowly, it untethers him from the void that nearly enticed him with its cold embrace.

Something in Sho settles, quiets down. The gnaw he felt so keenly has gradually dissipated, replaced by an ache, a hunger that envelops him too fast that he trembles in Jun’s hold. He exhales and it only serves to ignite what he’s feeling.

He looks at Jun and sees the exact moment that Jun understands: a slight parting of his lips, his eyes growing dark, and something between them shifts, becomes charged—if one of them makes a move, the other will snap. They’ve become so intricately linked that it all feels natural, and in the part of Sho’s mind that’s still capable of wondering, he thinks on how this could have happened.

Inevitably, he sees in Jun’s eyes. His mind swims.

It’s him who sways, who lets the tide take him. If he’s to drown, then he’d rather drown in this than the emptiness that has festered in him and taken root.

He yields in Jun’s hold and knows when Jun feels it: the slight tremble, the rush of breath. Then there’s force—Jun’s touch with a smidgen of added pressure, and Sho unravels, unfolds before him.

There’s no one else Sho trusts more than him.

The kiss is so soft that he barely registers it. A stark contrast to the way Jun’s holding him, as if he’ll vanish any moment in his touch. The juxtaposition throws him off-balance, and he focuses on the feel of Jun’s mouth, the brush of his lips that tells Sho more than what he’s willing to hear at present.

The ache in him burns, sweltering his insides, and with it comes a heady rush that obliterates any conscious, pressing thought. There’s Jun and no one else. They’re here and nowhere at the same time, and this moment is the only thing there is.

It’s enough. It has to be. Sho is falling apart, but at least this time, he’s doing it for Jun.

He responds, angling his head that it elicits a noise from Jun, one that makes Sho want. His focus is all on Jun, and it’s better this way—this way, the voices don’t come and they don’t blame him, don’t coalesce into shapes that take residence in him and grab hold. This way, it’s not eating him from the inside, this way there are no claws and teeth, no gnashing and tearing.

“What do you need?” Jun whispers against his jaw, punctuated with a kiss that Sho wants to feel again. “Tell me.”

The haze is yet to clear, but Sho doesn’t need it in order to answer. The answer’s simple, and he’s too tired to fight it, to put up a front when he’s visibly shaken and affected that anyone can perhaps tell.

“Help me,” he says, and lets himself go.

It’s Jun who moves them, who guides Sho to where he wants him, who lowers Sho to the bed they never used before, at least never together in their stay here. It’s him who touches Sho with care and supplication, and Sho’s too choked up in everything he’s feeling to not see it for what it is.

It’s Jun who loves him still despite his state, and from there, it doesn’t take much.

He surrenders to each touch, to each caress that somehow pieces him back together, little by little, to each kiss that assures him that he’s still whole and hasn’t completely lost himself. When his hands move, he guides Jun to what he needs, to what Jun is willing to give him, and he lies there, selfishly taking everything.

“I got you,” Jun whispers against feverish skin, a promise that sears itself into Sho’s being and curls tight.

It makes him hold on, and amidst the exhales and moans that Sho has for him, Sho manages to breathe out, “I know.”

The way they come together this time is different. There’s no festival, no love hotel, no truths unravelled or pretenses coming to light. This time happens with Sho aware of who he is to Jun, and it happens with him surrendering himself.

An offering to a god, if Jun chooses to see it that way.

But Jun doesn’t take it for what it is—he accepts then molds it to something else entirely, and he shows it to Sho not with words, but with his touch that radiates reverence, like he’s the one being favored and blessed.

Like he’s prayed for this.

The kiss pressed to Sho’s pulse is laced with the softness attributed to a lover, and Sho revels in it, chases after it. The greed in him transforms into something he can no longer tame, and he reaches back.

Hands circle his wrists, pressing them against the sheets, and Sho arches. Like this, he can’t touch. He wants to feel more, but Jun is keeping him at bay, holding him back. When he opens his eyes, Jun is looming over him, expression understanding and somewhat amused.

Jun’s grip loosens, entwining their fingers, and Sho waits. The spark in him is still burning bright, molten and intoxicating, but Jun’s gaze has this hold on him that he doesn’t dare break away from. It pulls him in and keeps him steady, until his breathing has slowed and is synchronous with Jun’s, each rise and fall of his chest becoming something he’s aware of.

He’s here. Jun has him under his weight, but instead of feeling trapped, Sho feels safe and secure. Here, he thinks with certainty, the shadows cannot touch him. They linger and hunger for him, but they won’t have him. Not yet.

Jun’s next kiss is right over his breastbone, and Sho’s breath hitches. He’s being treated not like he’s fragile, but as if he’s prized. He has all of Jun’s attention and all his adoration, and the thought elicits another noise of pleasure in him.

Another kiss to the crest of his hip and he squeezes Jun’s hands in his own in a silent plea. Jun squeezes back and Sho finds him looking up, gauging his expression, and Sho licks his lips at the sight of him.

He looks so reverent. The tinge in his cheeks makes something in Sho pulse with need, and he’s speaking before he can even catch himself.

“Please.”

He doesn’t know what he’s asking for, not exactly. But Jun blinks, and with the flutter of his eyelashes, Sho sees that he understands, that Sho needs to say nothing more.

Jun will take care of him. As he always does.

“Stay,” Jun breathes against his navel, and Sho feels Jun’s hands withdraw to grasp his waist instead. “Feel.”

It takes some maneuvering, but Jun eventually manages to divest him of his clothes, and Sho simply lays there, bare and waiting. His impatience radiates off him, something Jun smiles at and rewards him with a teasing, fleeting kiss to the inside of his thigh.

When Jun’s palm takes hold, Sho lets out a keening, needy noise that Jun answers with a flick of his tongue. Sho’s fingers find the sheets, grasping tight and twisting as Jun begins pleasuring him with his mouth.

Jun presses kisses on the length before retracing the same path with his tongue, and when Sho tries to buck his hips forward, Jun stops him with a look and a shake of his head.

Stay, Sho remembers. His breath is ragged and he’s burning, but somehow, he remembers.

He obeys.

He trembles with effort, something that doesn’t escape Jun’s notice. Sho sees his eyes narrowing, watches him lick his lips before he takes Sho back in his mouth, and Sho groans at the blinding heat. Jun moves slowly, each obscene sound echoing around them, and he only pulls back to leave an open-mouthed kiss over the tip that maddens Sho further.

The more Jun gives him, the more it obliterates any existing thoughts in Sho’s mind. His doubts, his fears, his worries—they all fade, replaced by pleasure and reassurance that Sho feels with every nerve that Jun sets alight.

Spine curving, he’s pushed back down against the mattress with a palm flat on his stomach, and Sho grabs onto it and squeezes tight. Jun pulls off him, a thread of spit clinging to his bottom lip, and he tilts his head at Sho.

Instead of judgment, Sho sees something akin to a challenge in those eyes.

“Hold it,” Jun husks, and his voice makes Sho twitch in his grip. Jun strokes him once and he quakes, but he sets himself back down on the bed at the click of Jun’s tongue.

Jun’s other hand breaks free from him to cup his face, and Sho leans to it, raining kisses on Jun’s palm, to the white of his wrist. He’s under Jun’s mercy now and they both know it, but instead of brandishing that power over him, Jun does the opposite.

He makes Sho look and see everything he’s going to do, giving assurances and only proceeding once Sho yields, never going too far or too much. He takes Sho’s desire and handles it with care, with deliberate sprinkles of affection, and Sho is dizzy with the feeling of it, his senses on overdrive.

“I got you,” Jun says again, each word reverberating against Sho’s flesh.

Sho breathes deeply and nods. Jun’s thumb grazes his lip before curling under his chin, tipping his face downward so their eyes will meet.

“There’s only me here,” Jun tells him. “If there’s a prayer you can answer, it’s mine.”

His words make Sho still, his heart thundering in his ribcage as it triggers a distant memory, from the time when he barely knew the depth of Jun’s regard for him.

Jun only prayed to him once.

To the Deity of Matrimony, if he hears me: may he cease doubting himself.

He’s suddenly overcome with emotion, and he shudders. He feels Jun move as his eyes slide shut, and soon, Jun’s lips are on his temple—a source of comfort out of the many that he’s providing to Sho willingly.

“I got you,” Jun repeats for the third time, and Sho believes him.

He finds Jun’s mouth with ease, pouring his gratitude and love there, knowing Jun would understand. Jun always does. Somehow, Jun has become attuned to his needs that he no longer has to say them out loud. Sho used to be good with words when he was alive, but now, with his divinity on hand, they’ve become elusive and hidden even from him.

Now, he has someone who simply understands. Perhaps it takes a look or a touch, or a simple draw of breath. Sho can’t tell exactly, but he’s grateful that he has someone like Jun with him. He’s grateful that it’s Jun who’s here, who’s holding him close and keeping him safe.

He whispers these against Jun’s mouth, Jun’s every breath something he claims for his own as he does.

“I hear you.” Another kiss, and Sho closes his eyes. “I’m listening.”

Jun withdraws, his warmth resurfacing to where Sho needs him most, and Sho fists at the sheets once more as Jun has him back in his mouth. Jun goes deeper this time, only pulling back when Sho twitches, palm wrapping around the length to give it a firm stroke.

Sho’s pleasure is beginning to crest, something he tells Jun by whispering his name, and he feels a finger land on top of his lips. He looks at Jun then, just before Jun wraps his mouth around him, and his next moan is uttered right against Jun’s finger.

Hold it, rings in the back of his mind, in Jun’s commanding voice. Obedience is a struggle now, but Sho keeps at it, wanting to prove himself. Each breath is a gasp, his throat feeling too dry, but he plants his feet firmly on either side of Jun and holds.

Jun doesn’t relent this time, giving him no reprieve as he takes all of Sho to the back of his throat, pulling back briefly only to do it again. Fire coils in Sho’s gut, unspooling threads of desire that courses rapidly to the insides of his thighs, and he’s close.

He trembles with a cry when Jun lets him go abruptly, leaving his cock glistening and twitching with need. Even Jun’s hand is gone, taking its place over his hip and stroking, the other grasping one of his thighs.

Jun looks at him like he’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and at any other time, the attention would make Sho blush and turn away. But now, he’s shaking and the next words that spill from him are begs—carnal prayers to a god who’s right before him.

They’re all Jun’s name, said repeatedly and with aching need. It makes Jun smile, drawing Sho’s attention to the mark under his bottom lip. When Jun speaks, every word makes the hair on Sho’s body stand.

“Control it,” Jun says with a firmness that doesn’t suit the bedroom, except his irises are so thin that it gives away the gravity of his desire. He speaks like a god, looks like a god, and the way he has Sho putty in his touch makes him a god in Sho’s eyes.

His god. Sho would worship him, given the chance.

Sho keens in response, but does nothing else.

“I don’t require a display of divine power from you,” Jun continues, squeezing his thigh before letting go.

He then reaches up, fisting his hand in Sho’s hair and making Sho gasp at the momentary pain, and his next words are said right over Sho’s mouth, punctuated with a tongue flicking over his trembling lips: “I only require your obedience.”

The unspoken question sits there, and Sho hears it clearly: will he give it?

He manages a nod, and Jun’s grip in his hair loosens, sliding down his cheek to pat it twice.

“Not until I say so,” Jun whispers against his ear, and Sho nods once more.

Jun repositions himself between his legs, parting his thighs to keep him exposed. Sho aches for him—he knows little else about anything that isn’t Jun, his concerns have long evaporated from his mind the moment Jun told him to hold it. He’s drowning in lust, and the longer Jun dangles his pleasure only to take it away at the last moment, the more he finds himself chasing after it.

The kisses this time are almost featherlight and ticklish, and Sho twitches as they rain over the oversensitive flesh of his length. Jun’s smile is something he feels as well, the only warning before Jun begins tonguing at the slit.

Sho is reduced to a mess of groans now, the only words he can utter are Jun’s name and variations of please that turn garbled as Jun lavishes him with undivided attention. It might seem like he’s the god being worshiped, but Sho knows that isn’t the case.

If anyone is under a god’s mercy, it’s him under Jun’s.

He bucks the moment Jun sucks the tip, and gets punished for it with a rake of Jun’s nails against his thigh, the sudden sting making him hiss as Jun pulls back. An apology sits on Sho’s tongue, but before he can say it, Jun clicks his tongue.

His disapproval for Sho’s impulsiveness traps another moan in the back of Sho’s throat. Sho has never wanted to please a man this much before.

“Stay,” Jun says again, finger tapping on the slit, smearing precome in circles. “I won’t ask again.”

Sho moistens his lips as he nods, and Jun takes pity on him by giving him a single stroke before he clamps two fingers around the base. If Sho’s entire body quakes, Jun doesn’t comment on it. His mouth returns, and with him directly staving off Sho’s orgasm, Sho can’t stick to silence as much as he wishes to.

He moans, each one louder and perhaps more depraved than the last as his pleasure is simultaneously withheld and given by Jun. Whenever he feels the tingle in between his thighs, he lets Jun know by whispering his name in a frantic manner, and Jun lets him go to kiss his hip, shushing him there as he cries out.

Sho doesn’t need a mirror to know that he’s a mess, that there’s sweat on his brow and over his lips as his body burns with need, and yet, not a single part of him protests.

When he initially thought that every fiber of his being would perhaps be against this, there’s silence. Tranquility, even. His every need is laid bare for Jun to see, and while Jun is taking his time in cherry picking which ones to address first, it only resonates a single truth in Sho that he now acknowledges with clarity:

He’s made for this. To be under Jun’s mercy, to yield and surrender, to do as he’s told.

I’ll teach you, Jun said once, and he’s kept his word.

Jun lets him go to comb his hair back, thumbs smoothing out the creases on Sho’s forehead as Sho’s pleasure builds. Doing so sends Jun on top of him, straddling him, and with the cleft of his ass resting right over Sho’s cock, Sho whimpers.

Another shush, this time coupled with fingers massaging his scalp. As if to test his will further, Jun lowers himself, letting Sho’s cock graze against him, and the pleasure is too much that it makes Sho scream in frustration when Jun puts his weight back on his knees and props himself back up.

Sho bites on his bottom lip, eyes shut tight as Jun runs his hands over his sides, his smile hidden in the crook of Sho’s neck. “It’s all right,” Jun husks with a kiss against the angle of Sho’s jaw. “You’re all right.”

He lets go of the sheets to bury his nails on Jun’s thick thighs, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Jun watching him. Jun has always been pale, but when he’s flushed, he reddens all over, and Sho can see the bloom of color cascading down to his chest.

Divine, Sho thinks. A god among men.

Jun’s palm finds its place over Sho’s chest, pressing lightly to keep him down, and Sho’s high gradually descends. Belatedly, he realizes it’s Jun transferring his spiritual energy to him, and his eyes narrow in question.

The curve of Jun’s lips is so disarming that it sends his blood rushing south once more when he sees it.

“I want you to have something of me,” Jun says, his other hand that’s not on Sho reaching for something on their side, causing Sho’s breath to hitch when he sees what it is, “while I take something from you.”

Sho can only lie there as Jun steadies himself with his knees planted on Sho’s sides, his hands making quick work as he reaches behind and slips a slick finger inside. He can only watch, open-mouthed, as Jun prepares himself, the flutter of his eyelids indicating how this is all affecting him, his face blooming in such an attractive shade of red.

Jun’s moan sends him twitching, and Sho has to swallow through a lump in his throat as he waits. He wasn’t given leave to move, and much as he wants to touch Jun in return, Jun never expressly told him to do that either.

So he keeps his hands where they are, fingers digging into the meat of Jun’s thighs as he watches Jun’s face twist in pleasure, as he moves in tandem with his fingers. His breath catches when Jun throws his head back, the column of his neck so inviting that Sho has to bite his bottom lip to keep himself from surging forward and leave a mark there.

He’s burning, and with the way Jun’s trembling above him, he knows Jun can feel it.

Jun’s fingers curl under his chin once more before Jun looks at him, and Sho braces himself for what Jun’s about to say. They’re the words of his god, and he must listen and obey.

“Not until I say so,” Jun reminds him, and this time, Sho doesn’t settle for a nod.

“As you wish,” he says reverently, delighting when he sees how it affects Jun, his blush deepening and eyes darkening.

Jun reaches behind, grabbing hold and cutting Sho’s amusement short, and any teasing barb Sho might have disappears when Jun guides his cock inside. The warmth makes him gasp, hands squeezing Jun’s thighs as Jun lowers himself further, until all of Sho is sheathed in him.

Fingers find Sho’s nipple and twist, eliciting another groan from Sho, and he arches when Jun rakes his nails over his chest, the pain sudden but pleasurable, his toes curling.

“Jun,” he says breathlessly, and Jun takes it as his cue to lift himself off Sho’s cock before sliding back down.

The friction nearly sends Sho spiraling. It feels so good that he’s forgotten how to think—there’s only this and to him, nothing else matters. There’s only Jun: his scent, his touch, his kiss, every slow grind of his hips as he rides Sho at his leisure.

The pace is too slow for Sho’s liking but it’s enough to make Jun’s point: this time, it’s not up to Sho. If Sho has seen fit to surrender all of himself for Jun to make whole, then Jun will unmake him before doing just that.

It’s not the method that Sho was expecting. But then again, since when has he been ever prepared for Jun? Even from before, when they were still alive, he could never take the brand of honesty that Jun may have presented to him more than once.

Now, with each slide of his cock in Jun, Sho feels himself being taken apart, piece by piece, tenderly and with so much care that he wonders if he deserves it. His touch shifts, finding purchase on Jun’s hips, and his thumb grazes raised skin that stands out amidst the smoothness under his palms that he has to look.

Claw marks. They look like streaks of lightning since they long healed, but each scar is a reminder of how Jun has thrown himself in harm’s way for Sho’s sake, at how much he’s always been willing to give if only Sho knew how to ask.

Sho runs his thumb over each as Jun moves, and Jun’s eyes snap open to meet his. An understanding falls between them, unspoken yet fully acknowledged as Jun reaches for the hand that’s caressing his scars.

The other grasps his jaw and applies pressure that Sho can only look at him.

“Look at me,” Jun says again, and Sho does. “Just me.”

“I am,” Sho tells him, and Jun smiles.

“Good.”

Then Jun uses his knees to lift himself, until he has only the tip of Sho’s cock in him before he sits back down, and Sho cries out as the pleasure once again builds. He forgets about the scars as Jun increases the pace, his fingers clinging to Jun’s hips that he’s certain he’ll leave his own marks, ones that will turn purple come morning.

To prevent himself from bucking back, Sho plants his feet on the mattress, using it as leverage to anchor his hips in place. Jun’s only acknowledgement for his efforts is him clenching around Sho, and Sho lets out a sob, broken and begging.

The next pinch delivered to his nipple makes him jolt, Jun’s name spilling freely from his lips. He’s reduced to little else now, Jun’s name serving as a semblance of prayer for mercy, for this god to hear him and let him have what he’s asking for.

“Please,” Sho chokes between them, ending in a sob as Jun rolls his hips in a way that makes him see stars. If he’s tearing up, it’s because he’s overwhelmed, his entire body feeling like it will burst.

Jun stills, and he’s gasping too—Sho’s not the only one affected. They’re both tumbling down the precipice, their pleasures so intricately woven together and entwined that they’ll only find it one another.

“Are you begging?” Jun manages to ask between rushed breaths.

A myriad of emotions flow inside Sho, swirling in tumultuous currents, and once he sees past the blinding pleasure that threatens to overwhelm them both, he knows there’s only one answer.

“I’m praying,” he husks, and how the words hit Jun is something that sends Sho’s mouth parting in awe.

Jun unravels, eyes glassy with lust, the healthy flush coloring him reaching as far as his sternum. His expression gives way to bliss, like the first flower blooming upon the arrival of spring, and he’s so beautiful that Sho trembles before him, underneath him.

One nod, and Sho moves.

He sits up and sends himself deeper, and this time, it’s Jun who’s not ready for it as he gasps, something he does right over the curve of Sho’s shoulder. Sho holds him close, arm wrapped around his waist, the other reaching between them to take hold.

Jun nips at his earlobe when he times his strokes with his thrusts, and they move together, breathing in each other’s spaces before Sho leans in to take all of Jun’s enticing noises for himself. The rhythm is lost to them both now, but they somehow still find their way despite the lust that’s taking over.

A hand slips in his hair and tugs, pulling his head back, and Sho moans at the abrupt flare of pain. Jun takes that moan and presses one of his own against Sho’s mouth, and Sho can feel how close he is, his thighs tingling as pleasure cascades steadily down his spine.

Jun’s other hand grasps his jaw as he clenches around Sho once more, and Sho husks his name between them. He’ll do anything, he thinks in a daze, anything, anything—

“With me,” Jun groans against his mouth, and Sho obeys.

He squeezes and feels Jun spill between them, and he finally, blissfully, lets himself go, emptying himself in Jun as the world fades away, leaving him with stars and galaxies bursting underneath his eyelids.

--

There are fingers playing with his hair, light and affectionate, and he’s about to doze off any moment.

“If I blessed someone without my knowledge again, you would have told me already, right?” Sho asks, just to be certain. There are many things he’s uncertain of now, but never Jun’s penchant for always giving him the facts regardless of the situation.

He feels Jun hum; the sound reverberating against Jun’s ribcage and transmitting to him. A reassurance without words, only with Jun’s touch and presence. It’s warm like this, when they’re wrapped around one another and the whole world seems unable to reach them yet. If only it were possible, Sho would’ve liked to remain in this bubble and let everything fade away.

“I didn’t feel particularly powerful a while back,” Sho confesses.

A brush of lips against his temple, and Sho closes his eyes, lets Jun’s scent grow familiar just like his touch. He hardly slept as of late, plagued by unwanted dreams laced with most of his doubts, but now, it’s almost as if his mortal guise is begging him for it. The exhaustion he felt for a long time has finally set in.

The fingers halt before proceeding to massage his scalp, the touch so soothing that it’s already making his eyes droop. Sleep is within reach, its calming tendrils stretching out to claim him, and Sho nearly gives in. It’s safe—he’s safe here. Shadows and uncertainties cannot reach him here.

He sleeps for what might be the first time in a long time since they got here.

--

They start searching. Again. Jun maps out the places where they can both sense that the fabric between realms has come loose and they go there, usually finding traces of spirit possessions by the locals.

He and Jun are no exorcists. But souls like these have the tendency to latch onto the nearest source of spiritual energy, and since they’re both gods, as soon as they arrive, the souls flock towards them.

Sho has learned how to fend off for himself for the past few days, sending the souls back through the rifts before sealing them, never looking at what’s beyond because the very feel of it sends a shiver that not even his concealed divinity can assuage. Beyond that tear in the fabric that weaves the realms together lies either absolution or damnation, but he feels more of the latter with every glimpse he gets.

They’re in Okinawa, following a faint thread that indicates the presence of Sho’s predecessor and letting the growing rates of divorce guide their search when Sho senses something different. They landed in one of his own temples this time, and with Jun teaching him how to enshroud, the current shrine employees and devotees can’t see them.

But one of them grabs Sho’s attention almost immediately; he zones in on them the moment he and Jun arrive. A woman of perhaps similar age to Sho was when he was still alive, her hands clasped tight before her as she shuts her eyes and prays to him.

Something must’ve shown on his face; Jun immediately scans the area and follows his gaze to where the shrine’s bell is.

“What is it?” he asks.

“They’re asking for what was promised,” Sho says, hearing it clearly in his head, each syllable perfectly enunciated. A heartfelt wish of a mortal lifted to the divine.

If you’re truly out there and listening, I’ve waited long enough for my betrothed who was taken too early from me; let us be together as you once promised.

Revulsion churns in Sho’s gut; this isn’t something of his. This is a leftover, unfinished work of his predecessor, halted because of their current state of weakness at Sho’s growing strength. His hand curls tight into a fist in an attempt to keep his emotions at bay.

Just how far did they go, he wonders? How intricate did they weave this web of atrocities and lies to fully convince mortals to offer themselves up without hesitation?

If this was the kind of legacy they left for him, he wants no part of it.

“They were here,” he finds himself saying, knowing it to be true. “They were planning another soul binding ceremony here, promising that poor woman to another malevolent spirit. That woman is still waiting for it to happen.”

“Were,” Jun repeats. “You’re certain they’re no longer here? We might have to look around to be sure, especially if one of their would-be victims is praying to you. They have convinced them somehow that they’re you.”

Riding off Sho’s influence this time, in attempts to weaken him by tarnishing his reputation. If what was promised doesn’t come to pass, this woman will cease believing in him.

The choice is his, he can somehow imagine his predecessor saying with a cruel, malicious snarl. He can either self-destruct or sacrifice a mortal.

“Focus,” he hears Jun say, and that voice somehow has the power to make him listen, so he does, pushing all the resentful thoughts at the back of his head.

He listens and sifts through the prayers he’s receiving, simply letting the sanctity of his shrine soothe him and imbibe him with spiritual energy. A mortal’s faith has the power to compel a god, and with a few of them congregating in a single place and asking for his intercession into their lives all at once—he feels...complete.

Assured of his godhood.

“What else do you hear?” Jun asks this time.

Sho, while not entirely forgetting about the first one he heard here, elaborates, “That couple came from Niigata and are asking for my blessing. The one behind them is from Kumamoto, and it’s the woman’s second marriage now.”

He can go on and on, but he pauses to look at his hands, spread before him as he gauges his own levels of spiritual energy. “I suppose I can bless them now.”

“Unless you’re not happy enough,” Jun says with a teasing lilt that makes Sho laugh. “We can do something about that, if you want. But later.”

“Later,” Sho affirms. “We have a job to do, remember?”

“You have a few prayers to grant,” Jun says, walking away, but not until Sho notices the slight tinge of pink on his cheeks. “I’ll have a look around. If they were here, they might have left a trace for us to follow.”

Sho watches him go but only for a moment. Jun enshrouded by his own power looks different from the time Jun cloaked him in the same concealing spell: Jun’s looked like the night sky bathed in starlight, and Sho’s is a pall swathed in hues indicating daybreak, of light orange and soft yellows, the shimmer akin to dawn reflected against undisturbed water.

The pall that’s now cast over Jun like a second skin is another proof of his growing abilities, something that’s becoming evident to his counterparts residing in High Heaven. He’s heard from Fuma that the deities seem to feel him more keenly now, and that his pavilion is slowly returning to its former splendor.

The deities of the High Heaven are anticipating his return anytime soon, Fuma informed him in their last correspondence. Most of them are already expecting his success.

This entire mission from the High Heaven can’t be over soon enough, but a part of Sho somehow wishes it’ll go on for just a bit longer. He doesn’t know for certain, but perhaps there’s this unaddressed fear in him that as soon as he finds his place in the Plain of High Heaven, he’ll forget about the struggles mortals live with in their everyday lives.

The sooner he embraces his godhood, the sooner he’ll forget what he once was.

And it’s terrifying, especially now that he’s seen what gods can do with their powers. He can make an ardent wish come true by simply willing it. Unless another god wishes for the opposite and counters his blessing, his will be done.

A tiny, undeniable speck of thought lingers in the back of Sho’s mind, ever wondering: if he becomes what Ohno has appointed him as, what’s to say he won’t turn out as his predecessor, after all?

He’s seen what power did to them. And now, he’s experiencing not even half of what their power once was, and yet. Yet, it already feels like nothing can stop him, that invincibility is within reach and fates will align to do his bidding.

With a wave of his hand, he blesses the marriages of at least six couples praying in his temple, saving the woman from earlier for last. She cannot see him, and if he makes himself known, it will count as a transgression, so he keeps his distance and watches her from afar.

I decided to keep it rather than do away with it, Nino once said, pertaining to his back, surrounded by the softest cushions as support. As his reminder.

Remind me, Sho thinks, as he purposely withholds his abundance of blessings from her for now. Instead, he makes her another promise, something she can never hear but will come true eventually, for a god’s word in the Manifested World is absolute: if, someday, she finds another and decides to marry that person, they will have a harmonious union for the rest of their lives.

For her lost love, Sho can do nothing. He’s not even certain if his promise amounts to anything; he’s positive his predecessor went in disguise to falsely make these claims to mortals at the height of their orchestration of the soul binding ceremonies. But at the very least, he wants to do something for this woman.

He turns away, but not before blessing the particular omamori the woman holds in her hands. He seals the promise there, and he feels it bind him to his words—a riptide of spiritual energy in him that tethers to an even greater power, something not even time can break.

Until his words come to pass.

He can only hope it’s enough.

--

“A rift was here,” Jun notes by the time Sho finds him, a several minutes’ walk away from his shrine’s entryway. Jun doesn’t even look at him, preoccupied with frowning at a certain spot in the air. “Do you feel it?”

To Sho, there’s an abundance of spiritual energy in the area because of where they are, and it’s a little difficult to focus on things that aren’t sources of it. But he tries, following Jun’s line of sight.

It takes some time. He hears no impatience from Jun, but eventually, his sensory overload settles and he sees a momentary shimmer at where Jun’s standing in front of, like a silken fabric distubed by the wind.

A rift. Not even properly closed at that, the tear so used and the seams so thin that perhaps, were Sho a bit more accustomed to power surges feeding his energy reserve, he would’ve sensed and seen it earlier. A tear in the interconnected realms that’s been used repeatedly that it’s starting to give way.

“They were going to conduct another ceremony, then,” Sho says with certainty this time. A repeat of Kochi, but thanks to Sho’s increasing influence, their plans were halted.

“Some of them have crossed over and haven’t returned,” Jun tells him, facing him this time. “There are spirits here. They were let in but never let out, and they haven’t returned where they belong. I won’t be surprised if this particular part of Okinawa has recent reports pertaining to the supernatural and occult.”

“We can ask a local shaman for that,” Sho suggests, something that makes Jun crack a smile.

Jun doesn’t reply as he opens his hand and summons a bit of energy in his palm, and Sho braces himself. A display of power in broad daylight will escape a mortal’s notice; the combined effects of the shroud and the glamor will make them believe they witnessed an optical illusion and brush it aside.

But for wayward, hungry, outcast souls, a source of spiritual energy blatantly displayed acts like a beacon, and they will undoubtedly flock to the source.

They’re far enough from the shrine to divert attention to themselves, close to the cliffside overlooking the shoals below, but still, Sho doesn’t want to risk it. He taps on his own energy and creates a barrier around his shrine’s premises just as the temperature around them drops.

The stillness in the air lends a chill that seeps through Sho’s marrow, one that mutes even the sounds of waves from below. He sees the souls come, an eerie greenish glow in their wake, and when he tries to listen, he hears fragments from their already disjointed thoughts.

....must...feed, must...find...see…where?

They’re fewer in number than the ones Jun faced against in Kochi, but Sho is no longer letting him banish them back to the Netherworld on his own.

Without waiting for Jun’s signal, as soon as the souls have approached close enough, Sho summons a surge of energy in his hands, each emitting a reddish hue that he hurls towards the spirits, sending them dispersing and wailing, their cries shrill in his head.

They’re in pain. Lost, hungry, and in agony, clinging to tatters of whatever gives their souls form and requiring sustenance, hence their presence here after Jun offered himself as bait.

Sho sends them back this time, each of his attacks direct and precise, leading the spirits to the rift that easily tears itself open at the presence of something belonging in the other realm. It sucks them in, their wailing turning anguished as they unwillingly enter the rift, their ghostly hands still clinging at the edges of the tear as Sho focuses his spiritual energy on it to prevent their escape.

It’s Jun who seals the rift with a blast of purplish energy from his fingers, and when Sho looks at him, his lips are curled in distaste.

“You never told me I’d be able to hear them,” Sho says after, when the stillness has passed and he can once again hear the sea below them and feel the breeze against his skin.

“What they say hardly makes sense,” Jun tells him. It’s an attempt to address his concerns, something Sho is grateful for, but it does very little to make him feel better. “They already forgot who they once were. They have fragments of memories, but nothing concrete.”

“I wasn’t able to hear them before because I was still too weak, right?” is what he says this time.

Sho receives a nod, and he looks away, past the edges of the cliff and out into the horizon, where the sun is beginning to set and the sky is changing colors. Above, a flock of birds fly by, cawing and drawing attention to themselves before disappearing behind a cover of clouds.

“What my predecessor did doesn’t only hurt mortals,” Sho says eventually, knowing it to be true. “It hurts these spirits as well. They can never rest. Because they wreaked havoc here, they will not enter the cycle of reincarnation.”

Those spirits will simply remain in the Netherworld and eventually wither, never to be reborn. An eternal punishment.

No soul, Sho thinks, no matter how blinded by temptation they have become, deserves that. He’s a firm believer of second chances. What transpired in someone’s mortal life should never be used against them once they pass on. Or so he believes.

Everything he believes in is being questioned and torn apart by his predecessor.

“Does godhood give us a right to condemn?” he asks Jun, who gives him a regretful look.

Jun doesn’t answer, but he doesn’t have to. In most things, Sho knows they see eye-to-eye, their beliefs more aligned than he originally thought. He’s thankful for it and cherishes it, but in the end, it’s just them against a bigger threat.

He can’t speak for the rest of the High Heaven. For all he knows, there might be other deities who are so assured of their status that they share this belief with his predecessor. Gods are chosen from mortals, given divinity, and with it, perhaps, comes the immunity to be held accountable for their actions.

Or so his predecessor must’ve initially thought. But Sho’s here now, and instead of dwelling on these thoughts that serve nothing but feed his doubts regarding the inner workings of the High Heaven, he recalibrates himself to the situation at hand.

Circumstances may have led him to his godhood, and his embrace of it might entail certain entitlements befitting his station, but Sho has recently blessed an omamori to ground himself and never forget.

He won’t be like them, he vows. Not if he can help it.

“If we bring them back,” he begins, conviction seeping through every syllable, “it will be the first time a god will be asked to answer for their crimes.”

“Yes,” Jun says.

“Then we find them,” Sho says with determination this time, meeting Jun’s eyes. “And we make them answer for all this.”

--

When he and Jun eventually find who they’ve been looking for all this time, they don’t find them lurking in the shadows this time. Not even in one of Sho’s temples where they’ve spent days combing through, not even when following through where they felt the instabilities of the Mortal Realm to be, where the rifts used ought to be.

They find them on the apartment complex’s rooftop.

The surge of sinister energy is concealed so efficiently that Sho barely notices it at first. A tingle from the back of his neck that he somehow can’t shake off no matter what he does, and the longer he stays in the apartment, the worse it gets.

So he steps out for a breath of fresh air, letting his feet guide him without much thought. Except when he reaches the stairs leading to the rooftop, the tingling intensifies, almost as if his body is begging him from an energy transfer despite his own spiritual energy levels not being depleted.

He opens the door and the feeling ceases, only to transform into something muted, like a malevolence ready to spread and simply biding its time, lingering in the shadows. But instead of the figure of something otherworldly, they stand before him tangible and real, like any other mortal.

On the rooftop, he finds a familiar face looking back at him, their smile already something he’s grown accustomed to returning each time they run across one another in the building lobby or in the elevator.

Sho stays frozen in his spot, breath hitching when they tilt their head at him.

“I first showed this form to you right here,” they say as the night breeze blows, some of their hair fanning their cheeks. Their voice blends with the wind, something to be carried away unlike the last time Sho met them face-to-face. “Did you enjoy the wagyu from that time?”

“Did you inhabit this body to keep an eye on me?” Sho asks, unable to mask the disgust in his tone. He wouldn’t put the idea of trapping an unsuspecting mortal under their thrall past them, given who they are.

They laugh, and with it, Sho can see how he couldn’t have known. This is a face he’s seen laughing before, a face that reddened once when they realized he’d heard them actively gossiping about his supposed divorce.

He supposes it all makes sense now, why Ando-san was that nosy neighbor. It was them all along.

“You think I went the same lengths as you did, Sho-kun?” the endearment makes Sho’s rage spike, red hot and quick. “Disguise myself as one of them and pretend I’m like them, live with them, influence them?”

“You influenced Hayashi-san,” Sho says.

The calculating expression fades, swiftly replaced by an innocent one. “Did I, though?”

Sho doesn’t approach, letting the distance between them serve as a measure of protection. Jun’s not here, checking out a couple of newly opened rifts near some of his shrines, and from the look they’re giving him, they must know this as well.

“Has anyone ever explained to you how these divorce rates skyrocket?” Ando asks, like they’re simply inquiring about what brand of perfume their husband would like for their birthday. Another one of their carefully fabricated lies.

Sho remembers Ohno doing so, and has to remind himself that this is Ohno’s elder sister he’s dealing with. What Ohno has told him is surely something this person has explored.

They don’t seem to seek out an answer from him as they peer over the ledge, their eyes on the city lights and the flow of traffic below. “With the absence of a deity, people end up praying to an empty shrine where prayers go unanswered, leading to their disbelief.”

When they smile, Sho suddenly feels cold, in a way that has nothing to do with the breeze.

“You’ve been out of the Plain of High Heaven for a while now, don’t you think?”

“You’ve been hiding all this time for this reason,” Sho says as realization hits him square in the face. He didn’t see it. All this time, he and Jun spent weeks looking for this person, and they hid in plain sight to make this happen. “You hid so I’ll stay here longer and I won’t hear any prayers unless I visit one of my temples.”

“Had you simply done away with that mortal guise of yours and embraced your divinity, you would have heard them. But no, you and that fertility god are too rule-abiding to even think of that,” Ando sneers. “I hear them all the time, you know. All these people asking for your help, and you never listened.”

Sho wills himself not to rise to the bait. “You’ve been banished. You can’t hear these prayers anymore. You’re lying.”

“What you are now is nothing compared to what I once was,” they say this time with a snarl, and with it comes a sudden burst of energy that mutes their surroundings—the night sky turns gray, the traffic below disappears, and the cold seeps in like the first bite of a cruel, unforgiving winter.

Sho holds his ground, keeping his energy levels in check. If a fight breaks out here, he knows he can hold his ground. He casts a glance over his shoulder, at the only entrance and exit to this place, and finds the door barred shut.

“He’s not coming,” they say with a chuckle. “Those rifts will keep him preoccupied for a while; I made certain to scatter enough that he’ll spend some time breadcrumbing.”

“I don’t need him if I’m to go against you,” Sho tells them, something that makes their expression darken. “I’ve changed since that time in Kochi. I’m sure you know that as well.”

“No matter how powerful and influential you think you are, it still doesn’t change the fact that you abandoned those who believed in you,” they tell him, and each word rings true and cuts sharper than any knife. “And there’s nothing you can do this time; no amount of divine blessing at your disposal can save the Hayashis.”

“That all changes once I bring you back,” Sho says with determination.

The energy surrounding them sizzles as soon as Sho finishes speaking, and around them, he starts to see cracks, dim purplish light emanating from them.

The rifts are opening.

When he looks at Ando this time, he sees a muscle slide in their jaw, their teeth clenching. “I should have eliminated him even before I showed myself to you.”

Before Sho can process those words, the cracks increase in number, and the purple light that bursts from them as they break feels completely different than the dreadful stillness surrounding him. This one is warm, familiar even.

Jun.

“You know I’ll never come willingly,” they tell Sho, and it works: Sho’s focus shifts to them this time and not towards the rifts falling apart, at how Jun must be on the other side and trying to use them to get here. “No amount of begging from my brother achieved that.”

“I’m not your brother,” Sho reminds them, “so I won’t be begging.”

He condenses a ball of spiritual energy and hurls it toward them, the first time he used his own for such a thing. Red light bursts forth between his fingers, bathing his immediate surroundings in a different hue and providing warmth.

His move is deflected by a barrier, just as another rift opens behind them. Beyond, Sho can feel dread and loss, the kind of cold bereft of any life.

Beyond lies death, and it’s not the peaceful, gentle kind. It’s torment and punishment, a reaping of unworthy, atrocious souls that hunger for eons.

Before he can even think of conjuring a barrier for himself, the other rifts shatter, disrupting the gnawing stillness, and from their torn fabric emerges Jun, his features hard.

Sho doesn’t deny the elation and relief that he feels there; he’s always known Jun can handle himself, perhaps exceptionally well, even, but still. He feels better now that Jun’s here, now that he’s no longer alone.

“Took you long enough,” he can’t help saying, something that earns a scoff.

“Had a couple of wayward souls patrolling around my temples,” Jun explains with a glance at his person, and at Sho’s nod to reassure him that he’s all right, he finally turns to Ando. “An inadequate distraction.”

Ando levels them both with a look, surprisingly calm for someone who’s been cornered. Though their exit is right behind them, they don’t make a move to enter it. Not yet.

“How are the scars?” they ask Jun, and Sho catches Jun’s jaw clenching.

“Should’ve known it was you,” Jun tells them. “The initiator of gossip in this place.”

“Wouldn’t it have been a sight had you two actually divorced?” they ask with a slight laugh. “But that’s where my mistake was, you see. I didn’t realize it the first time we met.” They level a baleful look at Sho now, and Sho feels something settle in his gut—heavy and horrifying all at once. “Unlike you, though, Sho-kun, I learn from my mistakes.”

Before Sho can even act, another fissure opens in the air, this time sprouting from behind Jun, and through it, ghastly wisps shaped like hands come forth. They find Jun and cling to him, and Sho sees a burst of spiritual energy from Jun as he tries to break free, to no avail.

The last thing Sho sees before the fissure swallows Jun is a stern shake of his head telling him no, and he’s gone, dragged into the deep recesses of the Netherworld.

When Sho turns, his predecessor already has one foot past the threshold of the rift behind them, their smile having that same air of geniality like they were still Sho’s rather nosy neighbor.

“I’m taking your husband with me,” they say like he still doesn’t know, “as insurance. If you bring the rest of the High Heaven with you, you’ll find that the damned souls in this place have no mercy for someone divine. They’ll devour him even before you can cross through that wretched gate you have there.”

Sho manages to summon enough energy in him to blast the rift open, but it shuts itself before his blow can even make contact. The stillness around him shatters, the world proceeding to turn on its axis once more, and Sho finds himself standing on a cold rooftop.

Alone.


Part IV