A raindrop for pompomshoes! (4/4)

[stormies]

Part IV: Netherworld

A chill hangs in the air as Sho’s mind races, his blood pumping and heart thundering. Here he is, at perhaps the height of his godhood, his power entirely his own, and he’s never felt so completely helpless, standing here on the rooftop and at a loss on what to do next.

He’s opening his palm and is right inside Nino’s communication array before he knows it; the yellowish wisps of energy cracking in the air like miniature lightning strikes—an indication of how unbalanced his energy levels are because of his emotions.

“Sho-chan?” he hears, and he sucks in a breath before the words come spilling out from him.

“They took him,” he manages to say. He must sound half-mad and half-delirious; it’s certainly in line with how he feels at present. “Nino. They went through a rift and took him with them. What should I do?”

He’s trembling, he realizes. Fear is setting in; time passes differently in all the realms, and any second he wastes here can mean an eternity of torment on the other side. He knows he has to hurry, but the tremors won’t cease and something like a choked sob escapes from him.

Sho doesn’t know what to do.

“What do I do?” he asks again, helplessly, feeling like a child. His stance falters and he plants his hand on the nearest railing to maintain his footing. His knees are shaking as his mind repeats an image of Jun’s face right before the rift swallowed him.

“Breathe,” he hears Nino say, and another sob escapes from him. “Breathe first. I’ve notified the Heavenly Sovereign and Ryoko-san as well. For now, I need you to breathe. Do you know where they took him?”

“Beyond the rift,” Sho says as he attempts to do as Nino said, evening out his breaths. It helps, but only minutely. He needs to move. “To the Netherworld. Nino. How do I get there? Should I open one of the rifts?”

“No,” Nino says immediately, forcefully. Sho can almost see him shake his head; somehow, something tells him it’s exactly what Nino just did. “Rifts are unstable and directionless; they might take you somewhere you never intended to go.”

Sho takes another lungful of air before he speaks, “I cannot pass the torii. It will take my divinity and if I reach the Netherworld in that state, I will be no match for them.” He looks around and starts directing some of his own energy around the vicinity. If a rift is here, he must find it. “There’s no other way.”

“You don’t even know what awaits beyond,” Nino says, and Sho hears the panic in his voice. “They took J because they know you will follow. You still have time. He’s strong, Sho-chan. He won’t fall so quickly.”

To Sho, these are words meant to soothe him, to make him think rationally and evaluate all his options carefully instead of dashing mad to one and just hoping for the best. He appreciates it, but something tells him that’s not all of what Nino’s trying to achieve here.

“What happens if he stays there long enough?” he asks, and he senses Nino pause. He diverts the energy he spent searching for a rift to finding more.

“No god has ever entered the Netherworld on their own volition,” Nino says eventually, carefully, like he’s gauging Sho’s reaction through the array. “Except for your predecessor, of course, but they were already banished by the time they already did so. However, even they didn’t stay long enough there as it’s becoming apparent now.”

“What happens, Nino?” he asks again, pointedly this time, and he can sense Nino’s apprehension despite not seeing him.

He has really gotten stronger.

“When souls enter the Netherworld, essentially, they forget who they were in their past life,” Nino mutters, like he doesn’t want to tell Sho these things. “Now J is a different case, being a god, but—”

He trails off suddenly, just as Sho manages to find the remnants of a used rift, a few paces away from the closest train station.

“But?” Sho prompts, when his impatience gets a hold of him and he can no longer stomach Nino’s attempts to either deflect or buy himself (or someone else) more time. Surely, the longer they drag this on, the worse it’ll be for Jun, won’t it?

“I’m assuming your predecessor was accompanied by resentful spirits,” Nino says this time. Then, before Sho can answer, a scuffle emanates through the array, followed with a reverent greeting, “Heavenly Sovereign. Please forgive the manner which I sent for you; I believed the urgency of the matter required it.”

Ah, Sho thinks as it dawns on him. Nino was buying time for this. Whatever is about to happen to Jun is something he didn’t want to say, and perhaps it’s because it’s something that will anger Sho.

Sho braces himself as the array’s yellow light shifts to blue, glowing brightly and vividly, blanketing his surroundings in the same hue. With it comes the scent of the ocean, like an impending storm at sea.

He’s never communicated with Ohno before, and the display of power once again surprises him, but he doesn’t let it sidetrack him. It could be an intimidation tactic; he doesn’t know. This is, after all, the brother of the one he’s hunting all this time.

“Nino just informed me that my sister took the Deity of Fertility with them,” Ohno says, and Sho doesn’t quite know what to make of the fact that this might be the first time Ohno has acknowledged his relation to the fugitive god. “Do you mean to follow them?”

“Yes,” Sho answers immediately, resolutely. “I was just asking Nino what can possibly happen to Jun the longer I stay here.”

He doesn’t bother for niceties, for courtesies and formal language. He’s angry, and rightfully so, he believes. He wants Ohno to feel it through the array, to know that not even his words or decree as Emperor of the Plain of High Heaven can stop him from following Jun.

“The spirits my sister use at their disposal hunger for divinity,” Ohno explains. His tone is calming, but nothing in his words make Sho feel the same. If anything, with the scent of the sea in his nostrils, he feels like he’s about to drown. “If he remains there long enough, they will devour his godhood and render him like any other soul sent to the Netherworld.”

“Will it hurt?” Sho finds himself asking, already tasting bile at the back of his throat. He’s seen what those spirits could do back in Kochi. Given their numbers and the fact that Jun is now at their realm, they can do so much more.

A pause, and then: “Immensely,” Ohno says.

Sho inhales, the sea salt permeating his every exhale as he grits out, “Then I’m wasting time.”

“If they manage to strip him of his divinity, he might start forgetting,” Ohno adds.

If he sounded regretful about it, it escapes Sho’s notice; he can only focus on the possibility that Jun’s godhood will be taken forcefully from him, causing him to wither and waste away until he ceases to exist.

He shouldn’t be here.

That thought gets him moving as he faces the direction of the train station. If he wills it, he can immediately teleport himself there and force the rift open. He’s got a plan and it might have been formulated too hastily than usual, but he knows he can’t stay in this realm any longer.

He needs to go beyond.

“If you follow him, Sho-kun,” he hears from the array; he realizes he hasn’t closed it yet, “Aiba-chan’s blessing will no longer be with you. Once you cross through what separates the Manifested World from the Netherworld, his blessing will no longer take effect. We will not be able to reach you either.”

Essentially, as Sho understands it, no help will come. He’s alone in this.

“This is not part of your heavenly decreed mission, Sakurai Sho,” Ohno says this time, and he sounds like the Emperor, every syllable laced with intent and power. The bluish light turns brighter, forcing Sho’s attention on it, and Sho squints as the glare begins to hurt his eyes. “The Plain of High Heaven will not interfere in matters concerning the Netherworld—a realm entirely separate from our own.”

His predecessor somehow knew this. They knew Ohno wouldn’t interfere if they took their transgressions far from the Manifested World, having been bound to the laws of the High Heaven. It was the unspoken agreement of all gods residing there: the Netherworld is not their concern. Souls that passed on and already reached the Netherworld cannot strengthen any god’s influence, after all.

It was never about those souls, Sho realizes. When this mission was given to him, the concern has always been to setting things right for the aggrieved mortals and putting the fugitive deity to justice. The wayward souls never factored in, and they certainly won’t do so now.

He’s alone.

“I will not leave him,” is all Sho says.

He lost Jun in their previous life, when he was too terrified of the implications of his possible attraction to Jun. Death has brought them together, and it will not separate them. No matter how the marriage vows go, he’s exempted from them.

He’s the Deity of Matrimony. He makes the rules.

“Then the Plain of High Heaven will no longer aid you in this,” Ohno says. Around Sho, the scent of sea turns into something foreboding, like the storm has reached its height and is relentless in its assault. “Any deity who offers their aid will answer to me, as per the laws of the High Heaven.”

Something akin to resentment stirs in Sho’s heart and he muffles it, snuffs its spark into ashes lest the embers burn bright and consume him. Ohno taking a step back is nothing to fault him for; it’s simply kingship. Heavy is the head that wears the crown, as the saying went, and this is just him maintaining the laws of the realm entrusted to him.

If Ohno himself falters, what will become of the High Heaven?

“Very well,” Sho says, and as soon as the words leave his mouth, he feels a burst of energy within him, like something inside him smashed itself to pieces. It sends him to his knees, a groan escaping from him as he attempts to catch his breath.

He fishes out the omamori from Yonekura, finding it half-burnt, the threads unravelling. It has kept the seal on his energy reserve potent and intact all this time, and for it to break now means the seal is finally gone.

The omamori disintegrates in his hand, leaving ashes easily carried away by the night breeze.

“What did you do?” he manages to choke out; his breaths are coming in gasps now as he perspires, his body on sudden overdrive.

“Nothing,” Ohno says, but there’s a certain lilt in his tone that hints at something more that Sho can’t focus on at the moment. “Nothing that wasn’t bound to happen eventually. Should you manage to return, Sakurai Sho, you will answer for your decision to enter the Netherworld willingly.”

Formalities, perhaps, but ones that Sho is willing to face. He won’t return, however, unless he has Jun with him.

Was this why Jun shook his head at him right before the spirits took him? He knew this would happen. He knows the rules and politics of the High Heaven better than Sho does; he must have seen this happening.

Sho wonders now if Jun will anticipate his arrival, then.

He manages to get on his feet once more, despite his knees feeling wobbly. “I thank the Heavenly Sovereign for his graciousness.”

He all but spits the words; it reminds him of the times he had to curb his anger at pushover bosses who took credit for work they didn’t do. He’s used to the unpleasant feeling this leaves in his gut, but he’s never learned to like it no matter how many times it has happened to him.

“A word of caution before you go, then,” Ohno says suddenly. “I speak now as the Deity of Oceans and Seafaring, and should you reach the Netherworld, take care not to use your spiritual energy to find the Deity of Fertility. Doing so will make the souls flock to you and instead block your path.”

Sho frowns at the unprecedented turn of events. If Nino is still standing somewhere close, Sho wonders what his expression might be. He himself is certainly surprised.

He clears his throat. “I thought any aid is forbidden and whoever gives it will answer to the Heavenly Sovereign.”

“I await his summons then,” Ohno says coolly. Then, as abrupt as his switch in tone, he reverts back to the one that radiates diplomacy and authority: “The High Heaven will now take its leave.”

The array trembles with overflowing power, the bluish light bursting into blinding flashes before gradually fading—nothing different from a dying star. With its stillness comes the world resuming its course: the onslaught of noises something Sho easily tunes out as he directs his energy to where the closest rift he sensed earlier must be.

Doing so makes him gasp; unlike the previous times he’s used this ability, now, it feels as if he knows exactly how much energy he’s about to use. Without the seal, his own spiritual energy flows freely, tethered to his divinity.

He’s no longer the odd one, he realizes. He’s nothing different from all the gods residing in the Plain of High Heaven.

This, he understands now, is Ohno’s way of helping. Not explicitly, as it would endanger his stand in such affairs and tamper with the existing laws concerning the High Heaven’s separation from the Netherworld, but he didn’t exactly leave Sho to his own devices either.

Ohno has essentially hastened the breaking of his seal so he can enter the Netherworld with his full godhood within reach.

If Nino has seen that happening and understood all the implications faster than Sho did, then he can stand as witness should Ohno be called to answer for his choice to aid Sho in this manner.

But then, who would summon him to answer?

The ingenuity makes Sho laugh, something he does as a concession. Even if he doesn’t want to expect in the realm beyond this, the simplest form of aid he has received is something he allows to bring him even a little bit of joy, and perhaps hope.

He arrives in the train station faster than he normally does, and he’s fortunate it’s late enough that the place is sparsely populated, save for a couple of staggering businessmen who are on their way home after a company night out or, perhaps, spending some time with a crafty, clever host or hostess.

He senses the rift close to the tracks where the platform ends, and Sho enshrouds himself in his own pall to prevent any security personnel from spotting him before he heads down there. Each step is accompanied by the sound of gravel and pebbles crunching under his feet, and when he makes it in front of where he senses the rift must be, he takes one last look at the now desolate train station.

In his previous life, the last place he could recall seeing was not too different from this. A train killed him before, and now, he’s on his way to ending another life here, to putting the Mortal Realm behind him.

This might be the last time he’ll be here. If he survives this trip, he likely won’t return to the Manifested World unless the mortals are celebrating his festival or he’s in another Heavenly Sovereign-sanctioned mission.

Sho concentrates, directing his energy to where the rift feels the loosest and tugs, feeling the threads sealing this realm unravel at the slightest probe. The air cracks, leaving a fissure that gradually increases in size, and past its threshold, he sees nothing but an inky blackness that fills him with dread and loss.

Somehow, this moment takes Sho back to the first time he crossed the torii, when Jun was right with him and assured him of the effects once he crossed over. Jun is not here now, and the lack of his presence hits Sho harder than it did before.

Jun is somewhere in there, beyond the rift, perhaps for too long already.

Like shedding skin, he remembers in a voice that sounds so much like Jun’s, and he takes one last look at this realm before he steps inside the rift.

--

The first thing that Sho notices when he opens his eyes is that there’s a faint, eerie, greenish light coming from the horizon.

The second is that he’s back in the train station. But unlike the one he just left, the platform looks old and abandoned, dried leaves strewn everywhere he looks, the seats having been claimed by time and rust.

Breathing seems laborious; like each intake of air is insufficient and suffused with the scent of decay. He reaches the exit and finds no one, an empty metropolis that is an exact copy of the Tokyo he was recently in, except everything is rotting and the buildings are crumbling, and the streets are lined with old, forgotten automobiles.

The greenish light somewhat beckons him, gleaming past the tallest edifices, and the longer Sho looks at it, the more he feels it call to him. He takes a step towards it but stops when he catches movement in his periphery.

He turns and sees souls, each emitting the same greenish light, flying towards where the light shines. Unlike that time in Okinawa, however, he hears their cries more vividly and understands them better, like they’re no different from mortals.

Have they just crossed over? Recently deceased, perhaps, which would explain how similar they are to their mortal counterparts? Sho doesn’t know exactly, but he has a feeling he might be right. Rather than malevolence, he senses confusion and regret from most of them, still preoccupied with the lives they lived on the Manifested World.

If he hadn’t ascended, he would have experienced something like this.

He faces the source of the greenish light once more, muting some of the souls’ voices and thoughts that are being projected everywhere at once. Now that he has his full divinity in hand, he finds himself more attuned to anything spiritual that even the leftover emotions of these spirits are things he feels keenly.

He resumes walking, and each step feels heavier the closer he gets to where the light is. The longer he walks in this abandoned version of Tokyo, the more fatigued he feels. He has to moisten his lips every now and then as he feels them crack, the air stifling and turning hot the moment he reaches the coast.

The seas, when he looks at them, are calm, but any thoughts of venturing into them have long escaped his mind. Not when they radiate an ominous feeling with each wave that crashes against the shore, the cold waters seeping through his flesh despite him standing at the edge of the city itself.

Under his feet, the bridge creaks, its rotting frame coated in rust. The instability makes Sho tremble, but he holds his ground as the sea below resumes its steady, slow currents. Like they’re waiting for something—a movement from Sho perhaps, that will turn them into a tumultuous force of nature.

Sho isn’t keen on finding out. He walks again, this time more accustomed to how scarce the air here seems to be, and finds the source of light. He stops once he reaches it, breath catching in his throat.

It’s the apartment complex, the one he and Jun lived in. Or its derelict version of it; the concrete bears cracks he doesn’t remember seeing before, the paint long chipped off and the lights turned off, save for the eerie, greenish glow that emanates from one place.

Sho doesn’t have to see to know where it is; he knows. It’s his and Jun’s apartment, to be exact.

He’s on his guard; this place isn’t what it seems. Earlier, when he arrived here, the green light appeared to be coming from the horizon, but now it turned out his perception of it was warped by something, perhaps by this place itself.

Nothing is what it seems, and whatever he’s about to find in that abandoned building might be another trick, designed to confuse him.

He blinks; there are floaters in his vision, his periphery intermittently assaulted by flashes. The longer he stays here, the longer he feels out of place. He lives and breathes and is as powerful as any god in the High Heaven—he doesn’t belong here.

And this place is making that known with each second. He has no doubt now that if he remains here long enough, the worse the effects will be on his person, perhaps on his godhood as well. It’s fortunate that he hasn’t run into any malevolent spirit, but then again, he’s been walking the entire time.

Perhaps, to the spirits here, Sho is just another soul, a more vivid shade who somehow managed to retain his form, but will undoubtedly wither and fade come time.

He takes a shuddering breath and wills his feet to move. The apartment complex is the same, save for the decay that has set in, dark mold marring the walls and leaving a stench that permeates through the already thick air. The more Sho breathes, the more he feels his lungs being clogged by something, making each intake a challenge.

He doesn’t attempt to enter the elevator, instead climbing his way steadily up the stairs, each step littered with debris. His sense of smell soon adjusts to the environment, and by the time he makes it to the floor that was once familiar to him, breathing has come more naturally to him.

Greenish light bathes the entire hallway, and when Sho glances towards the horizon, he sees the signs of an incoming storm, thunder clouds looming and turning his surroundings darker. Like this, the light almost feels like a beacon towards a safe haven, and he steels himself so as not to be lulled into the false comfort it appears to provide.

It’s a trick of the mind. His own, perhaps, or of someone else’s design. He wonders now, were he still mortal, if he would’ve survived this. His mind would likely have come apart on its own, every synapse severed as the realm here warps everything he came to know.

A place designed to make people forget, he realizes. It’s why the buildings are derelicts, ancient mementos of a former life: it ought to feel familiar to anyone, but whoever looks at it would eventually find it difficult to recall where they saw it before because the appearance has greatly differed.

It’s a testament to his godhood that he hasn’t forgotten yet. Any mortal would’ve. He still knows where he is, what he came here for, and what he must do.

Sho clenches one of his hands to a fist, summoning a surge of spiritual energy for the first time as he approaches the familiar apartment door. To his left, he sees the nameplate, rusting and stained, but each character is still visible so that it’s not impossible to read what it says.

Matsumoto.

He feels something stir in the air and he knows there are hungry souls heading this way. His energy has called them forth, and if his predecessor is here, then they must’ve sensed his presence already.

I am here, Sho thinks, as he turns the knob and opens the door.

Come and get me.

--

Inside is the same apartment he and Jun once lived in, except that it’s not.

It’s a dark and twisted version of it; the plants he cared for stood in their respective places, but they lay withered and rotting. The furniture is covered in dust, the windows shattered. Debris littered the floor, the tiles cracked and some are missing pieces.

As soon as he enters, the green light disappears from his line of sight, as if this place exists independently in the Netherworld, a separate entity that Sho must face in order to find what he’s looking for.

He directs the spiritual energy in his fist into a search for anything that will indicate the presence of another here, and he sees the reddish wisps float a few paces ahead of him, only moving in increments as soon as he takes a step. He follows them as they lead him to all the rooms in the apartment where everything and nothing is the same.

Even the photo of him and Jun that he once put up in their living room is there, except the frame has rusted and the glass is shattered. The photo has long faded, their faces consumed by mold and hardly recognizable, but Sho would know.

He would always know.

He treads carefully as his own energy guides him, until finally, they reach the bedroom. The door is ajar, the doorframe having long collapsed and making it impossible to close the door, and he creeps silently inside as his energy leads him there.

For a while, there is nothing but darkness. But then he hears a shuffle of movement followed by a surprised gasp, and Sho immediately wills his energy to disperse to provide illumination, scattering up the ceiling and blanketing the entire room in a reddish hue.

Someone screams and his blood turns cold as he sees a hunched figure in the corner, arms wrapped around their person as they shake their head repeatedly.

“It’s too bright,” they say repeatedly, voice turning shrill with each syllable. “Too bright, too bright, too bright. Turn it off. Turn it off. Turn it off!”

Sho waves his hand at once as the light coalesces back into his hand, a single glowing ball of spiritual energy he now holds in his palm as he takes a step forward, then another.

With each step, the person flinches, their breath hitching.

Sho leaves a few paces between them before he crouches, peering at the person’s face, his heart hammering in his throat.

Even in their mostly dark surroundings, there’s no way he won’t recognize Jun.

He’s trembling. His hands are clutching at his shoulders as he rocks back and forth, his breaths ragged and eyes not seeing as he focuses on one spot on the mold-encrusted wall. The longer Sho looks at him, the more he feels his heart break.

He did this. He left Jun here for too long.

Fighting back the sting of tears from the corners of his eyes, Sho clears his throat. It causes Jun to flinch once more, then he hisses and shakes his head.

“There’s no one,” Sho hears him say, in a voice so hoarse it hardly sounds like him. Except it is him, his face as impressionable as ever, albeit lined with dark circles under his eyes, his lips dry and cracked. “No one. No one. There’s no one here.”

“Jun,” he says tentatively, and it earns another flinch followed by a fierce shake of his head.

“There’s nothing left,” is what Jun says this time, then he hacks, coughs like the words themselves caused an itch in his throat. “If you’re here for more, there’s nothing left.”

Sho can feel the hairs on his nape stand at those words; he’s suddenly terrified of the implications. If it means what he thinks it means, then the souls here have long devoured Jun. They feasted on him and left this shell of a god, a mere shade of what he once was.

If his hunch is correct, then he is too late.

“I’m here for you,” he says this time because it’s the truth. “I’m here to take you home.”

Jun pauses from his repeated rocking, eyes blinking slowly. Then he angles his head towards Sho, and Sho, who once stared at eyes so piercing and expressive, finds himself looking at empty ones devoid of any emotion.

“This is home.”

Sho looks around to keep himself from shedding tears and sees the clutter on the floor, the chipped walls, and the unmade, wrecked bed.

“Not here,” he says.

This is hell, he thinks. This is what my nightmare taking life looks like.

“You don’t belong here,” he adds, and it earns another blink from Jun.

Jun seems flighty now, unstable at every sound and unpredictable with each word. He’s easily scared and nothing like the Jun he knows, his confidence and bravado practically nonexistent. He remains hunched, as if he must make himself small to escape notice, and he looks at Sho like he’s not seeing anyone there.

The flare of pain in his ribcage is something Sho pushes aside; Jun’s state is more important now, and if he doesn’t find a way to help Jun, he will lose him.

He cannot lose Jun.

“No,” Jun says eventually, gaze dropping to Sho’s outstretched palm where the source of illumination lies. “You’re the one who doesn’t belong here.” Then his tone shifts and he snarls, menacing and full of rage, “Get out. Get out of here. Get out of my house!”

A hand suddenly flies and shoves Sho back, and Sho finds himself on the ground, his elbows breaking his fall. Jun would never hurt him. And yet.

He rights himself and waves his hand, causing his summoned energy to disappear. He kneels close to where Jun is, and with his eyes having adjusted to the darkness, he sees that Jun has resumed holding himself, staring at nothing on the wall.

Sho won’t give up. He hates giving up without trying, and to him, he hasn’t tried enough.

“Jun,” he says this time, his voice softer and radiating patience.

He sees Jun’s hands cling tighter around his shoulders and keeps his distance.

“I’ll stay here,” he promises, gesturing to the space between them. “I won’t come closer unless you tell me. But please, let me stay. Don’t make me leave. I don’t want to leave.”

I’m not leaving you.

For a long stretch of a moment, there’s silence. There’s only the scent of decay and ruin, and with it, the sputtering embers of Sho’s hope. The longer they remain in silence, the more his doubts begin to set in, and he feels their gaping maws tear him apart piece by piece.

He shakes his head to rid himself of such thoughts; he will not lose himself this time. He lost himself once, and Jun pulled him back. And now it’s his turn to do the same.

He won’t let Jun down.

Jun moves and Sho’s attention snaps to him at once, at the space between them where he now sees Jun offer his arm, his sleeve pulled back to reveal the flesh underneath.

Except it’s littered with scars—claws, Sho realizes. He bites onto his bottom lip to keep himself from making a sound and scaring Jun away, but it’s difficult to reel in his rage.

If he has scars, then they’ve had their fill of him. Those wayward, malevolent souls that eternally hunger for something that will make them whole, their insatiable appetite having been momentarily sated by someone’s godhood.

The thought makes Sho sick and unbearably angry—he’s overcome with the urge to condemn these souls to torment, to make certain they will never enter reincarnation and be trapped in their own version of hell.

“There’s nothing left,” Jun says, cutting off Sho’s vengeful thoughts. “Not anymore. But if I give you what you’re looking for, maybe you’ll leave me alone.”

Sho’s hand quakes as it tentatively reaches out, fingers tracing the scars. His touch sends Jun flinching, but he doesn’t withdraw, and Sho takes care not to show any aggression despite the anger that bubbles inside him.

He’s closer now, and he’s got a hand wrapped around Jun’s forearm, keeping him in place.

With him touching Jun like this, he can gauge his energy levels, and doing so sends a choked gasp escaping from him.

Jun must’ve fought to the best of his ability, as valiantly as he could until the souls eventually overpowered him. The Jun now is nothing different to how Sho once was, back when his temple was desecrated and he nearly faded to nothingness in Nino’s pavilion.

There’s only Jun’s spiritual reserve remaining, a tiny speck of his godhood that both relieves and scares Sho. Relieved because that means they haven’t taken his divinity from him, not completely, and scared because had he been a little late, there would truly be nothing left.

“Take it,” Jun says, and Sho finds himself looking at such a resigned, empty expression, like Jun has simply given up. “There’s nothing left. There’s no one.”

“No one,” Sho repeats, and Jun’s eyes flutter shut for the briefest of moments. “Are you waiting for someone?”

Jun’s eyes snap open at the question, and Sho feels his body tense under his hold. He doesn’t let go, instead wrapping his hand more firmly around Jun’s forearm, and tugs to get his attention.

“Were you waiting?” he asks, trembling as well. For me, he doesn’t add, because he can’t.

He can feel his heart shattering.

“No one came,” Jun answers, looking somewhere behind Sho, not meeting his eyes. “No one’s here. There’s no one. No one came.”

Sho hangs his head, unable to look at the lost expression on Jun’s face, at the proof of his failure. Had he not delayed, perhaps it wouldn’t have come to this. Time passes differently here, and it’s evident that Jun has spent considerable time alone here, waiting.

Can a god pray, Sho wonders? To whom shall he pray then, that he’ll wake up from this, that this place is just a horrible nightmare and once he opens his eyes, he’ll find himself back in the apartment—the one he knows—and find Jun there, with his haughty smile and perfectly arched eyebrow, asking Sho whether he had a pleasant sleep?

“No one,” Jun repeats.

“I’m here,” Sho tells him, and he sees how Jun pauses at that, at how he seems to process Sho’s words.

“I’m here, Jun,” he says again, grip shifting to cup Jun’s elbow, keeping him steady, preventing him from closing off once more. “I’m sorry to have kept you waiting. But I’m finally here.”

Jun blinks once, twice. Then he looks at Sho—truly looking at him that Sho’s heart feels the faint stirrings of hope—and inclines his head.

“I don’t know who you are,” Jun says this time, honest and broken.

Sho ignores the sharp stab of pain as his chest constricts. “I’m Sho,” he says instead, taking measured breaths between each word he enunciates. “Don’t you remember? We were married once.”

Without the glamor to aid him however, Sho has no proof with him. There’s no ring around his finger, and he’s barred from making any sort of communication with the High Heaven to prove their union. He only has his words, his heart laid bare.

“I don’t know you,” Jun says again, turning away, looking at the wall once more. “Why are you here?”

Sho can sense the divinity in Jun flicker like a dying ember on its final sparks. Jun is fading, and he’s fading fast. He won’t turn mortal and won’t become like any of the mortal souls here. If Sho doesn’t make him remember who he truly is, he’ll wither to nonexistence, being a god.

He’s already forgetting, Sho realizes. This Jun is a shell of the old Jun, someone who has his face but none of his memories and his abilities. None of the powerful and influential deity he once was, the one who taught Sho so many things and took care of him when he had no one else.

But still. It’s Jun. He may not be the same, but it’s still him.

“I’m here for you,” Sho says again, knowing Jun has already forgotten his initial answer. “I’ll stay here with you, if that’s all right. You don’t have to be alone.”

“There’s no one,” Jun tells him, and Sho shakes his head.

“There’s me,” he says, and when Jun looks at him once more, he nods. “There’s me. I’m here with you.”

Jun’s gaze shifts to where Sho is holding him, but Sho doesn’t dare let go. He’s afraid Jun might simply disappear this time; he’s holding on to whatever’s left of Jun that he can’t afford to lose anymore of him.

“Are you waiting for someone too?” Jun asks, and Sho can only nod.

He’s waiting now. He’s waiting and hoping and praying perhaps, to anyone who might hear him, to a higher power than himself, than any of the gods in the High Heaven.

“I’m waiting for them to remember me,” he says.

Jun stares off into the distance this time, towards the direction of the open door. “No one came when I waited.” He paused, tilting his head. In a way, he still has the mannerisms of the old Jun, even though he himself might not be aware of it. “Except you.”

Sho masks his eagerness at those words, at the first sign of how Jun used to be, something else that isn’t this broken shade of a man he once knew. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

He reaches out this time, directing Jun’s face towards him and ignoring the sting he feels when Jun flinches upon contact. But Jun doesn’t move away, doesn’t shove him back, and remains frozen in place. He allows Sho to guide his head, to turn his gaze.

“Look at me,” Sho says, remembering the last time he heard the same words from Jun. “And just me.”

Jun does, and the emptiness that Sho sees in his eyes lasts for stretches of time that Sho himself isn’t able to track. For the longest time, Jun simply looks at him without really seeing, and Sho weathers the lack of recognition, the absence of warmth.

This Jun is so cold, so devoid of all the intense emotions that have always been a part of him, but he’s still Jun. Even in fragments that are on the verge of utter ruin, he’s still Jun.

Sho will love him in any form.

If the worst should happen, Sho thinks he won’t mind staying here for good. There’s no place for him in the High Heaven while Jun is here. He’ll never leave this place without Jun, and if he cannot bring Jun back with him, then…

He reaches inside himself and finds no part of him protesting the idea of remaining here with Jun for eternity. He’ll stay here if Jun would have him, even if Jun cannot remember him. He’ll stay here because Jun needs him, even if he doesn’t know it himself.

He’s turned his back on Jun once. It’s something he’ll never do again.

Eventually, he feels Jun relax: the slow hunch of his shoulders, the way his eyes turn from alert to half-lidded. His breathing slows and his expression radiates softness, like he’ll fall asleep any moment.

“Jun,” Sho says, thumb stroking his cheekbone before he leans into Jun’s space and presses his forehead against Jun’s.

Jun lets him, and in silence, they remain there: Sho hanging on to whatever’s left of someone he loves, and Jun not remembering but welcoming his touch anyway, for whatever comfort it’s worth.

It’s Jun who moves eventually, shifting his trunk so he can be more comfortable as Sho holds him, keeps him warm. Doing so sends something falling out of his pocket, hitting the floor with a tiny clang that makes Sho open his eyes as Jun flinches.

“Don’t,” Sho says, keeping his grip tight at Jun’s nape, applying pressure when he senses Jun attempting to move back. “Stay like this.”

He refuses to let this moment be shattered by anything. He’s terrified that once Jun draws back, he’ll push Sho away again and tell him to leave.

A hand grasps his shoulder, pushing him back gently, and it’s the difference from the force he was expecting that makes Sho give in. He looks at Jun now, whose eyes have shifted to the floor, preoccupied with what emitted that sound from earlier.

Sho’s breath hitches once he sees what it is, and he’s picking it up before he even realizes it.

It once again shattered to pieces because of its recent fall, but its form is unmistakable even in the darkness. A small, fragile thing that he once mended, and will mend again if he could.

A reminder that in this place, none of the god’s blessings exists.

A tiny metallic bell.

He takes Jun’s hand and places the shards of the bell on his palm.

“This is yours,” Sho tells him. “I’m sorry that it broke again. I’ll fix it again someday, and bless it once more if you’ll let me.”

Jun is now staring at his own palm, at the pieces of the bell Sho placed on it.

“Bless,” Sho hears him whisper. “Bless.”

Sho settles for observing him as he blinks at the bell. For a long while, he remains like that, eyes on Jun as Jun gazes at his open palm.

The silence lingers, suffocating him, its savage maw gaping as it prepares to devour them both. Staying here for too long has started to take its toll, Sho can feel his fingers shake, his bottom lip tremble.

He’s...faltering. Like he’s left to stand on top of something so unbalanced and unsteady that it will give way any moment and he can never stand back on his own. This place is slowly stripping him of his divinity since he doesn’t belong here, making it clear that he can either leave or stay to his own detriment.

“Whatever it amounts to,” Jun whispers this time, his palm closing around the shards as his eyes drift shut.

“Jun,” he prompts, and he feels the tendrils of something sinister closing in around them, one that inspires a negative feeling akin to hopelessness and defeat. If he stays here, it will consume him.

He looks at Jun and commits his face to memory as he makes up his mind.

He’s fine with forgetting who he is. He’d rather forget Sakurai Sho, the Deity of Matrimony of the Plain of High Heaven, rather than forget Jun entirely. If he can preserve one memory within him, it’s the memory of Jun and everything about him: his smile, his laugh, the way he rolls his eyes before he lets out a long-suffering sigh at something Sho has done.

Jun’s eyes flutter open and meet Sho’s own, and what Sho sees there turns him breathless, his heart thumping madly.

“If it even amounts to anything,” Jun says this time, followed by a slow, calculated blink. “Sho-san.”

Sho’s sob gets caught in his throat as Jun offers him a weak, small smile, and he reaches for Jun’s face and holds him close.

“I’m sorry I took too long,” he says against Jun’s shoulder, feeling one of Jun’s hands settle on the small of his back. “I should have rushed here the moment they took you.”

“I told you not to,” Jun retorts weakly, and now he sounds like Jun—the one Sho remembers with fondness, the one Sho adores. It’s him, and Sho is never letting him go. “But here you are, anyway.”

“I never listen to you,” Sho says. “Surely you know this by now.”

“I do,” Jun whispers against his hair. “I remember now.”

Sho draws back, holding Jun’s face in his hands, taking note of his pallor and the dark circles under his eyes. They’re running out of time, and they must head back. He conveys the urgency of the situation by looking over his shoulder, and Jun seems to understand.

“I can’t move very fast, Sho-san,” Jun tells him, somewhat apologetic. “They...didn’t exactly leave me in a state that can run.”

Sho looks over at his person once before meeting his eyes once more. “What did they do to you?” He doesn’t bother to mask his rage this time.

“They were hungry,” Jun says, looking away. “I tried to hold them off for as long as I could.”

Sho takes his hand and brushes a quick kiss to his knuckles. “You fought bravely. That’s enough.” He shifts his weight to his ankles then. “Can you stand? I’ll carry you if I have to, but I don’t think that will sit well with you.”

“It won’t, you’re right,” Jun says with a grin that Sho missed seeing. “I can stand. But I can’t run.”

Sho throws one of Jun’s arms over his shoulder and hoists Jun up with him. Like this, most of Jun’s weight is resting against him, and it makes him smile.

“This is the second time I do this,” he remarks as he leads them both out, past the ruined doorframe and the debris littering the living room floor.

“Unless you can find one of my temples here, I’m afraid you’ll have to do your best for both of us,” Jun says.

“I got you,” Sho promises, squeezing Jun’s hand for emphasis as they make their way to the door, this hellish version of the place they once called home is finally something they’re leaving behind.

He feels more than sees Jun’s smile, Jun’s mouth pressing against his cheek as he answers.

“I know.”

--

Outside, the city is blanketed in darkness and in silence, save for the unmistakable sounds of currents flowing. When Sho looks out, instead of the sky littered with stars, he sees flashes and streaks of lightning instead, the scent of ozone permeating his every breath.

A quick glance downward reveals that the city has flooded, the sea levels having risen to dangerously high levels as a fierce storm continuously brews in the horizon, each lightning strike appearing to be closer to them than the last.

This place, he realizes, has finally sensed him.

And all its focus is on him, manifested in forces of nature that he knows he cannot fight against. This place knows what his godhood is made of. It knows that he’s not Ohno, that he cannot tame the oceans with a flick of a wrist and summon a maelstrom with a flight of mood.

He leads Jun towards the staircase and briefly deliberates his choices. Something in this place has always irked him, like there’s someone watching his every move and their gaze is fixed on the back of his skull. Yet, try as he might, he can’t pinpoint where that uncanny feeling of being watched is coming from, and now their surroundings are changing to slowly cage them, entrap them.

He needs to hurry.

Sho feels for a change in the air, a spark somewhere in the cold, barren cityscape, a loose thread that he can tug on to have the entire tapestry fully unravel. It takes a while of probing, of sending little bouts of his spiritual energy into the vast, empty void in hopes of feeling something else reach back, anything apart from the hungry, gaping maw of lost, wayward souls that patrol this place.

“You broke the seal,” he hears Jun murmur, and he finds Jun looking at him with a slight smile. Despite the lack of illumination here, save for the intermittent dashes of lightning, he can make out how gaunt Jun’s face has become.

Once they’re back, Sho vows to take him to Yonekura’s pavilion himself.

“I didn’t,” he says. At Jun’s frown, he adds, “Ohno did.”

That garners a slow blink from Jun, as if he’s trying to recall something. Then: “I thought he’d stop you.”

“He did stop me,” Sho says. “Told me this isn’t what he decreed, that the High Heaven would be out of reach should I go, that none of the divine blessings from any god would work here. That I’d be alone.”

“And still you’re here,” Jun says, like he can’t believe it. He lets out a small laugh that turns into a cough, his shoulders shaking. “There was a time you’d simply do what you were told just so I’d be out of your hair.”

“We weren’t married then,” Sho points out before his fingers find the white of Jun’s wrist, mapping every upstroke of his pulse. He searches momentarily for Jun’s energy reserve and sends a surge of his own towards it.

He sees the abrupt change in Jun, how the sudden flow of spiritual energy to support his dwindling levels fills him with strength, manifested by how alert his gaze becomes in contrast to the half-lidded, almost dazed look it had earlier.

It wouldn’t last—he didn’t go through the proper channels of transferring energy to Jun, but it will have to do for now. Briefly, it reminds Sho of the time Nino did the same for him.

Before he can open his mouth to remark on that, something in the void beckons him, and he latches onto it, using his own abilities to follow its path, to trace where it’s coming from. He stills when he realizes it’s from somewhere close, here, in this building.

He braces himself and summons enough power to create a shroud, something he sets on Jun and makes him unnoticeable. Jun gives him a disapproving look as soon as the pall materializes and envelops him, but before the protests can spring forth from his lips, Sho plants a finger on top of them to halt him.

If anything happens to Jun despite him being here, Sho thinks he won’t be able to forgive himself.

“Berate me for this when this is all over,” he tells Jun.

Jun wouldn’t be Jun if his displeasure couldn’t be discerned from the crease between his eyebrows. The sight makes Sho smile, and he gives in, leaning into Jun’s space to replace his finger with his mouth—one that ought to placate Jun and to give Sho courage.

What they’ve both been looking for is right here all along, and Sho knows they’re waiting for them.

“Trust me,” he whispers between them when he breaks the kiss.

He knows Jun understands when Jun’s hands find the sides of his face, mouth meeting Sho’s in a rush, his need and desperation conveyed with each frenzied swipe of his tongue against Sho’s own. Sho groans and loses himself in it for a moment, and as his eyes drift shut, all else fades.

There’s no storm, no void of a hellscape around them, no swarm of souls awaiting him. There’s only Jun and the hot wetness of his mouth, the familiar taste of him, like he’s a furnace of everything Sho wants to protect. With each breath they take together and each quiet moan they utter, Sho feels it singing in his veins, a sonorous echo of all the things he can do.

“You’re more than your godhood, Sakurai Sho,” Jun husks between them, and Sho feels the truth of it, coursing through him and making him believe.

For the first time, Sho believes in himself.

Jun lets him go, but not without a final stroke of his thumb against Sho’s bottom lip, a phantom of a touch filled with promise.

“Finish this,” Jun says, and Sho nods.

--

He goes alone.

With his shroud on Jun, he’ll always know where Jun is, and no one else will. Jun is safe where he is, a fraction of Sho’s power residing in and out of him keeping him out of anybody else’s attention. Should a malevolent spirit chance upon him, they can never penetrate the shroud, and once Sho releases a burst of energy, all of them will flock to him.

He goes alone and heads upstairs, to this derelict building’s rooftop. Each step he takes is measured, and unlike the last time, he knows what awaits him when he pushes the door open.

“You brought him back,” is how they welcome him this time, and Sho sees they no longer look like Ando-san, his rather nosy neighbor who somehow knew all the affairs of everyone in the apartment complex.

They look like Ohno.

With the absence of Ohno’s complexion, instead a pallor that appears to glow in this darkness, but still—the features are unmistakably akin to Ohno’s. His blood relative, his sibling through and through.

The fact that they’re brandishing this right in front of him makes Sho pause, gauging them. He’s seeing their true face now, the former Deity of Matrimony of the Plain of High Heaven.

He faces them and inclines his head in regard.

“Did you think I couldn’t?” he asks.

“How did he remember you?” they ask back, and Sho evaluates the distance between them. Overhead, the impending storm makes its presence known, the seas around them rising and flooding the entire city.

Everywhere he looks is a mockery of Ohno’s godhood.

“It takes more than malevolence to kill a god,” Sho answers. “You should know.”

This spurns them to laugh, echoing around them and causing another burst of lightning to split the sky above in half.

“You think that when I influenced a mortal to desecrate your temple, it was me attempting to murder you?” they ask this time.

Sho considers the question before shaking his head. “I wasn’t talking about me.”

It earns their frown, and Sho levels them with a look.

“It wasn’t me you ended up destroying in the end,” he says. “All the running, all the lies you fed the mortals here—they never affected me as much as they did you.” He sees the shift in their expression, the flash of emotion before they hurriedly conceal it behind nonchalance. “From the time you’ve been banished, all that you’ve accomplished was further erode what remained of your divinity.”

He lets out a breath, knowing his next words are the truth. “It wasn’t my godhood you ended up ruining. Not Jun’s either.”

The unspoken lies between them, and the silence stretches for a fraction of a moment before they snort in amusement.

“I came close with the fertility god,” they point out.

“You came close with me,” Sho acknowledges, remembering the lightheadedness he felt while in Nino’s pavilion, the depths he sunk into when he nearly gave in before Jun hauled him back.

They got to him. It wasn’t shameful to admit, he realizes. He survived.

“More than once,” he adds.

“What did he see in you, do you suppose?” they ask, and somehow, Sho knows they’re no longer talking about Jun. “What made you stand out, Sakurai Sho, that he finally caved in and appointed you the moment you died?”

There’s something larger at work here, something that made Sho experience what it’s like to speak with another Ohno, asking the questions he once asked Ohno himself. Fate, perhaps, or something with an inexplicable sense of humor, for this feels like a repeat of his first time in the High Heaven, when all he knew was that he died and he was in someplace else, and a man was telling him he ought to be someone for the mortals in another realm.

He remembers Ohno cradling a seedling back then, telling him things without answering his questions. Ohno explained it as his affinity to causing things to happen, but whether it’s true or not, Sho will never know.

“Maybe it was the tie I wore that day,” he says in the end.

It makes them laugh, and briefly, Sho sees it: a trace of Ohno Satoshi in this person, the kind of god they must’ve been back when they still performed their duty and didn’t yet turn their back from their responsibility. For a moment, he sees what they must’ve been like: all the splendor and glory, the abundance of power.

The second most influential god in the Plain of High Heaven.

And as quickly as that vision appears, it vanishes, replaced by what’s before him—a husk, a remnant of what once was.

“No one’s been able to predict him like I did,” they tell him. “When he became the Heavenly Sovereign, I was the one by his side. I comforted him after he lost that janken. The idea of having more power distraught him.” They pause, head tilting in consideration. “That’s where we differ, I think.”

Thunder rumbles above them, the sound of ocean currents closing in. If the water rises high enough, the riptides can take apart this crumbling building and send it to the depths of the unknown.

“If all you wanted was power, you had it,” Sho points out. “Nino told me who you were. You were second only to your brother. You didn’t have to bind those mortals to the souls here; you had no obligation to this realm.”

“Do you know how it feels when someone believes in you, Sakurai Sho?” they ask. “Wholeheartedly, ardently believes in you. Do you know what it does to your godhood, to your divinity that you brandish here so openly?”

Sho’s thoughts flit to Jun, and he only has one answer.

“Yes.”

The momentary surprise in their face makes Sho smile; they clearly didn’t expect his response. To them, he’s nowhere near their former status when they were at the height of their influence. To them, he’ll never be on that level and will never know.

But Sho doesn’t need hordes of believers. He has no need for crowds, for a multitude of offerings, for thousands upon thousands of prayers, for shelves upon shelves housing miniature bells.

He needs only one person, and that person is already his.

He reaches inside himself and feels his divinity reach back, invincibility flowing in his veins. He can do anything. He can tempt the fates and win, extend his influence and do away with any record of a marriage dissolution.

This, he realizes, is how they felt. This constant, steady rush of energy flowing freely, an overabundance of power that ended up blinding them. This, Sho now understands, was why they did all of it.

Because they thought they could. Felt that they could.

A god playing god.

He looks at them with the stirrings of something akin to sympathy now; he understands. The cruelty and the casual disregard for mortals’ trust and free will are still unforgivable, but they’re no longer unfathomable, foreign thoughts to him.

He understands. Now that he’s fully embraced his divinity and has grown into it, he understands how intoxicating it can be—how thrilling.

It goes both ways, Nino once said.

This, Sho realizes as he looks at them, could be him someday.

And now that they’re looking at him, he knows what they’re seeing is not what he’s become, but what they must’ve been before all this.

Past and future intertwined, reflections of their greatest and worst selves, bounded by a responsibility they once shared.

“By the decree of the Heavenly Sovereign of the Plain of High Heaven, the former Deity of Matrimony is hereby summoned to answer for their transgressions,” Sho says, and thunder booms around them as if to punctuate his words.

“He’s not coming, is he?” they ask, and they’re no longer looking at him, instead at the skies, as if they’re waiting for them to split open and reveal a path directly leading to the High Heaven.

“The High Heaven will not interfere in matters concerning the Netherworld,” Sho says.

They laugh, though like the ones before it, it never reaches their eyes. “You sound like him. Tell me, before we fight, does he still stutter when he addresses the assembly in the Great Hall?”

Sho has no recollection of Ohno stuttering. The Ohno now might be an unconventional Emperor, but an Emperor nonetheless.

“No,” he says honestly. “He doesn’t.”

Something shifts in their expression then, a slight curving of their lips giving way to a sad smile, like they expected Sho’s answer but underestimated the impact it would have on them. Before Sho can ponder on it further, he catches them summoning energy in his periphery, and he channels his own to block it as tiny cracks appear from under him.

The building shakes as they clash—Sho on the defense as they hurl bursts of condensed spiritual energy in his direction, sending debris and parts of the already crumbling edifice to the seas below.

“I won’t go back there. Heaven and all its rules, all its limitations,” they tell him as they let forth another blast, one that’s aiming for his head. Sho blocks this with another wave of his hand, but not fast enough; it grazes him, leaving a gash that feels like ice against his jaw. “If only they saw that we can be so much more if we also extend our influence here in this realm.”

“The dead are out of our influence,” Sho tells them, sending a burst of energy that hits their side, earning a gasp of pain followed by a snarl.

Multiple circles appear under Sho—small, empty voids that seem to suck him in the closer he stands to them, and while he’s never quick on his feet, he manages to avoid most of them. The ones he couldn’t, he blasts out of existence, and soon, greenish light enters his periphery as the air around them coalesces into a chilling stillness.

Lost souls have come flocking in droves, their hunger so palpable that Sho knows he cannot fight them all off. They circle the building now, a vortex of ghostly, emerald green light that spins faster with each lightning strike.

They don’t come closer, however, and Sho realizes they’re waiting for the outcome of this fight, for their prize.

Whoever loses will be devoured.

“If we master the dead we master this realm,” they tell him, spreading their arms for effect. “See? They’ve come. All it takes is a drop of divinity and they come rushing in. Compared to mortals, the dead are easier to manipulate.”

“That gives you no license to manipulate either,” Sho says, creating a shield when they hurl another blast at him.

“Why not?” they ask, just as the souls surrounding them begin wailing, their cries overlapping one another and ringing in Sho’s ears. “Just because those fools in the High Heaven who call themselves gods are known for inaction doesn’t mean we should be. Are we not gods?”

Sho focuses on their voice and tunes out the rest. “I’m not like you.”

“Divinity makes us capable of anything,” they tell him. “My brother knows this. It’s why he made that rule that there’s no interference from the High Heaven here. He made use of that privilege a long time ago. Even if you bring me to him, you’ll still answer for your choice to go here because of this law, won’t you?”

They smile when Sho doesn’t answer.

“You won’t answer to anyone here,” they say, and the tiny voids beneath Sho’s feet disappear. “I’m not Satoshi. I don’t hide behind heavenly rules to shape myself into someone I aspire to and never will be.”

“No, you’re not him,” Sho agrees as he holds his ground when the ground beneath him quakes once more. Amidst the low, repetitive cries of the souls surrounding them, he can hear the sea and infers that the levels have risen. “You’re no emperor.”

He sees how they register that, the flinch in their expression as he continues, “You’re no ruler. No one believes in you anymore because you made them cease. And you’re living off an influence that no longer belongs to you.”

He reaches within him and summons all his might, all his abilities tethered to his reserve. It manifests as a glow around his form, his clothes shifting to a kimono he’s never seen, adorned with a red-crowned crane that opens its wings when he stretches his arm and the sleeve unfurls, the hems touching the ground with his every movement.

“I’m taking it all back,” he says, and wills it.

He reaches out and pulls—a strong, unyielding tug that doesn’t give at first, then their resolve cracks and they let out a gasp before they bite on their lower lip to clamp down any further noises. Sho doesn’t relent, and there, something inside them twists and unravels before unspooling fast and swimming right to where Sho is.

He’s the Deity of Matrimony now, and this power listens to him.

He takes it all back, all the influence fueled once by unblinded faith, of pure belief in the divine, and finds it tainted by the recent machinations of his predecessor, stained with resentment and anger, of cruelty and malevolence.

He directs his energy to purifying it, and doing so sends his predecessor to the ground, their body seizing as they desperately cling to the leftover influence in them. Sho can sense their power greatly diminishing; they’re far worse than he was when they orchestrated an attack on one of his temples.

He can kill them. If he wills it, he knows they will simply wither to non-existence, and if there’s still anything left, the souls around them will finish the job for him.

For a moment, he entertains the idea, lets it fester and take root, nourishes it with the desire for vengeance because of the things this person has put him through, and for all the things they’ve done to Jun.

It would be justice served, a dark, pulsing hunger tells him.

For a moment, Sho allows himself to play god.

Then, as abruptly as he considered it, he severs the thought entirely, crushing it to nothingness. He takes back what’s his and lets it flow through him as he approaches his predecessor’s quivering form, his godhood on display as he meets their eyes.

There’s no hatred there. There’s only amusement laced with emptiness, and it tells Sho that they know. They know the thoughts he entertained earlier—all the hideous and morbid facets of it—and expected him to act upon them.

He sees it staring back at him ominously: their boundless desire to instigate monstrosities.

“I’m not like you,” he says.

“You can be,” they whisper, their pallor not unlike Jun’s when Sho first found him. This is them at their most vulnerable, when there’s nothing left in them but the sliver of divinity they cling onto, the one they refused to surrender when the High Heaven demanded it. “The longer you remain there with them, the more you will be.”

“That’s not for you to decide. How I fare as a god is no longer tied to you,” Sho says with certainty. “I’ll ask one last time: the High Heaven summons your Excellency to answer for your crimes.”

He catches them smiling at the title; it’s been a long time since they heard someone address them that way.

“It won’t end with me,” they say as they stagger to their feet. Their posture sways, but Sho makes no move to help them. They both know there will be no more fighting in this state. “I won’t be the last god who will transgress against the High Heaven.”

“Perhaps. But you’re not looking at him right now,” is all Sho says.

They exchange a look, and an understanding falls between them.

They won’t be coming with him.

“Earlier, you told me it takes more than malevolence to kill a god,” they say, and for the first time, Sho feels that they have no wish to inflict further harm upon him. They’re simply conversing, and it’s a change he didn’t quite expect. “What do you think will kill me, in the end?”

Their gaze shifts to the vortex surrounding them, something they gesture at with a tilt of their chin, a whirlwind of malevolence that can’t be the correct answer. “Those, perhaps?”

Before Sho can respond, they face him, and Sho is suddenly hit with an image of Ohno talking to him, that this is someone Ohno may have still hoped to meet once more despite everything.

Sho had a sister once, when he was still alive.

“Or was it his negligence and inability to act?” they ask with finality, and Sho immediately puts up a shield once he realizes what they’re about to do.

He focuses his own energy to propel himself far from them as he watches it all happen in flashes: he senses them seizing their divinity—the last few remaining shreds that gives them their form—and sees them holding it in their hands before they stamp it out.

The air shifts suddenly as the spirits surrounding the building descend on the rooftop, their hunger drawing them to the nearest source of sustenance. Sho only lets himself see the final moment before his predecessor self-destructs, then he starts fending off the souls latching onto him and makes his way out of the rooftop as the building shakes.

He spreads his palm and summons the pall to him, a single whisper of “To me,” that immediately gets answered, the shroud appearing right before him and with it, Jun.

Jun takes one look at him and gasps once, in complete awe.

Sho realizes that this is the first time Jun has seen his divine form, the one that isn’t hindered by dwindling influence and a sealed spiritual reserve. He doesn’t know how he looks, only that it’s different. He himself hasn’t taken liberties to examine his appearance yet.

They have no time.

He wraps an arm around Jun’s form, pulling Jun flush to him as he directs the rest of his energy to finding the nearest rift. He can hear the rush of water and knows that the floor below them is already taken by the sea, and in moments, this entire building will be, too.

Another tremor, this time strong enough that it nearly knocks them both off-balance, but Sho keeps them both afloat, hovering a few inches off the ground.

“I thought you hated heights, Sho-san,” Jun says with a grin, and Sho groans.

“I still hate it,” he admits. He’s not looking down because of it. “Tease me all you want later, all right?”

He feels Jun’s smile against his neck as Jun holds onto him. “All right.”

A thin mesh of interwoven realms reaches back to him, and Sho latches onto it. He summons enough energy to whisk himself and Jun away from this place, to another crumbling building where the rift leading back to another realm is.

The teleportation no longer causes him to feel dizzy, and he quickly focuses his attention on unraveling the rift open. It gives at the slightest pull, unfurling and revealing what’s beyond, but apart from a faint, warm light, Sho registers little else.

He can hear the anguished cries of lost souls as they make their way to them, and Sho tightens his grip around Jun’s form before they slip through the tear, and as soon as they’re through, he blasts the opening shut.

Adrenaline still pumps in his veins, his heart thumping against his ears as he looks around. It takes a moment for his vision to clear—there’s so much white and everything is so bright. But when it does, he sees a citadel surrounded by thick clouds, its closest gate within sight.

The Plain of High Heaven.

He feels Jun shudder against him as the shroud disintegrates to nothingness, and here, Sho sees his divinity returning to him, Jun assuming his divine form despite his weakened state. His clothes shifts to the kimono Sho has seen him wear before, but it’s a manifestation of his depleted levels that the colors of the fabric are muted and are lacking its usual shimmer.

Sho doesn’t need to look to know that the fox is absent from his sleeve.

He holds Jun closer and opens his palm, willing himself and Jun to be immediately brought to where Yonekura Ryoko is.

It takes a momentary stillness in the air before it shifts, the scent of smoke and alcohol flooding Sho’s senses as the sounds of merrymaking surround them before abruptly ceasing to silence.

He meets Yonekura’s surprised gaze and gestures towards Jun once, and as soon as he sees her spring to action, he finally lets the exhaustion take him, his eyes falling shut.

--

He doesn’t dream.

Gods don’t require rest as much as mortals do, but someone has put him in a healing trance and ensured that he wouldn’t wake until he’s sufficiently healed from all the damages he incurred during his trip to the Netherworld.

He opens his eyes and catches a flurry of movement in his periphery, and Fuma’s face appears right in his line of sight.

Sho blinks at him as he asks a series of questions regarding Sho’s wellbeing at present, concern in his eyes and a slight panic in his voice. Sho’s gaze flits downwards and sees that Fuma’s garb has changed from the simple dyed kimono to something in brighter red, adorned with feathers sewn with silver thread that appear to be made of starlight.

An extension of Sho’s influence.

“Again,” he croaks, something that earns Fuma’s confusion before he’s hurriedly handing a cup of water to Sho.

The cup, Sho notices, is not the ordinary porcelain he remembers having around. It’s made of gold with a pattern of a crane embossed on its sides. He stares at it for a moment before Fuma nudges his hand, and he finally takes a sip.

“I didn’t catch a single thing you said. So you may have to say all of it again,” he tells Fuma this time, handing the cup back to him with a nod of gratitude. He finally looks around and tries not to gawk at his surroundings: instead of an ordinary futon, he’s on a four-poster bed, the frames made of gold, the sheets in the softest red silk. The faded paint of his pavilion is notably absent, and all the cracks he used to see on the pillars and on the floor tiles are lined with molten gold, like someone took the time to turn the entire place into a work of kintsugi.

He meets Fuma’s kind, warm gaze. “Where are we?”

“This is your pavilion, Sho-kun,” Fuma says, like he expected Sho’s surprise. “The gold you see lining every crack that used to be here only appeared recently; the explanation for it is something I’m trying to find myself.”

“Recently,” Sho echoes, and Fuma nods. “How long was I out?”

“Long enough for the entire High Heaven to know that you’ve returned,” Fuma says, which isn’t an answer at all. But time flows differently here, and Sho is just remembering that now. “And long enough for the deities to await the next Heavenly Assembly in the Great Hall. The Heavenly Sovereign summons you when you’re best able, and the hearing will proceed by then.”

This place wastes no time, Sho thinks. “Before I answer that summon, tell me what else I missed while I was asleep.” He reaches for Fuma’s forearm now, squeezing for emphasis. “How’s Jun? Where is he?”

“The Deity of Fertility is recuperating in his pavilion, under the personal supervision of the Deity of Medicine and Healing,” Fuma informs him. “She has requested that no one should seek an audience with her or the Deity of Fertility, until his confinement has ended.”

Sho clicks his tongue in annoyance; the last thing he remembers before losing consciousness is finding Yonekura in the middle of the gambling den after he teleported straight to her, and he tells Fuma as much. “So no one knows how Jun is? I can’t even know?”

“I cannot answer these, Sho-kun,” Fuma says, apologetic. “However, I was instructed by the Deity of Medicine and Healing to inform her immediately as soon as you’re awake. I’m headed there now; I only wished to ask after your health myself so as to give her an accurate assessment of how you fare.”

“Wait,” Sho says, because Fuma is already moving to get up. “How angry do you think she’ll be if I direct a communication array to her?”

Fuma’s expression twists to discomfort, but Sho’s opening his palm before his attendant can even stop him.

“Yonekura,” he says, and the array increases in size, big enough to occupy an empty space in this particular room of Sho’s pavilion. Their surroundings are now bathed in a reddish glow that quickly shifts to green, and instead of just her voice like Sho’s expecting, Sho sees a shade of her materialize right in the center of the array.

Like an apparition.

She’s seated on a recliner, her chin resting against her knuckles as she gives him an unimpressed look.

“I barred all communication from everyone in the High Heaven,” is how she greets him, one of her eyebrows quirked, “except from you. I somehow sensed you’d do this despite your aide being left with instructions.” She huffs, and Sho offers her one of his sweetest smiles. “Well?”

“You know what I will ask,” he says, and she laughs, her head thrown back, revealing the pale column of her throat.

Her fingers play with one of her earrings now. “Quite a stunt you pulled here, I’ll have you know. The gambling den is closed indefinitely because of the uproar you caused upon your arrival, and the Deity of Good Fortune is faced with complaints regarding refunds of missing merits as chaos ensued.”

Sho turns to Fuma for confirmation, who nods grimly.

“Thievery in a gambling den actually happened?” Sho asks. “Here, in the Plain of High Heaven?” Aren’t you gods, he almost asks? What happened to honor and all that?

“It won’t be called a gambling den if nothing illegal happens in it,” Yonekura points out. She waves her hand dismissively. “I could talk about Aiba-kun’s recent plight but it’s not your concern for now, I believe.”

All of Sho’s thoughts refocus once more on Jun, and all he manages to say in the end is a simple “How is he?” that Yonekura gives him a long look for.

Then she sighs. “Whatever it was they did to him in the Netherworld, it left almost nothing for me to fix. I don’t know what transpired there and what situation you arrived at, but I’d wager that at one point, Matsumoto-kun lost himself.”

At this, Sho gives a curt nod, refusing to elaborate. He will not relive that hellish experience. Once was more than enough. The horror will remain with him for eternity, and it’s enough penance for his tardiness.

“I sealed it,” Yonekura tells him, and Sho can see that she’s gauging his expression. His sharp intake of breath at her admission is certainly something she didn’t miss. “His energy reserve, I mean. When you brought him here, his divinity was fragile and broken, almost untethered. I mended all that and still had to seal it because of how unstable it’s become. I’m performing energy transfers at least twice every hour, and I never did that much with you. It’s honestly a mystery to me how he managed to cross through three realms without withering away.”

“I gave some of mine to him,” Sho says, and nothing more.

Yonekura hums knowingly. “I did sense something of yours in him when I tended to him. It kept him alive so I will commend you for that.”

She doesn’t give him anymore than what he asks, and Sho knows he must ask again if he truly wants to know, so he does.

“Will he recover?”

“In time,” Yonekura tells him evenly. “The marks they left, however...those will fade but never fully go away.”

Even Sho doesn’t know the extent of the scars Jun now has on his person. He only knows of the ones on his side and the ones of his forearm, but of course, there are more. Jun suffered, and now he has something to remind him of it.

If possible, Sho wants to make him forget about everything that happened in the Netherworld. But with divinity comes immortality, and with it, the curse to always remember. He has managed to restore Jun’s memories of their time together, and even their time apart.

“Don’t look so forlorn,” Yonekura suddenly chides him, the teasing lilt of her words not lost to him. “Whatever got him spared his face, so your spouse remains attractive. And with him staying here in the High Heaven, he’ll recover much faster than you did. And I’m assuming you’re to volunteer yourself to do the energy transfers from here on?”

“Won’t you assess my reserve before you let me do such a thing?” Sho asks back.

“I’m done assessing you, Sakurai,” she informs him. “I’ve been assessing you the moment this array showed your appearance to me, and I’ve come to the conclusion that you’re in perfect health.”

“Will the seal break on its own?” Sho asks.

“Either it does or he breaks it himself,” Yonekura replies. “What do you think he’ll do?”

The latter, but Sho doesn’t say that. Knowing Jun, who once forced himself to heal faster simply because he misinterpreted Sho’s words, he’ll find a way to recover in a shorter period of time.

He’ll make an annoying patient, Sho realizes. But there’s nothing else he wants than to be at Jun’s side right now, to see him and know that he’s all right, that he’ll be fine.

“If I head there now, will you be cross with me?” he asks this time, and he receives a sigh for it.

Yonekura rolls her eyes and waves her hand. “I’m honestly surprised that you still asked at this point. I thought you’d be here by now. There’s no stopping you; I’ve known this for a long time. Perhaps that’s why you and Matsumoto-kun here work so well together.” She gives him a pointed look, something he returns. “I’m not standing up against the Heavenly Sovereign for you in case he asks why you ignored his summons and chose to be here instead.”

“I won’t ask you to,” Sho assures her as he summons enough energy in him to teleport right to where Yonekura is. He dismisses Fuma’s silent question of accompaniment with a shake of his head. “I figured if I have to answer for my decision to enter the Netherworld, I don’t mind adding this to the list of the things I have to explain.”

Yonekura studies him for a moment, her earring gleaming under the light when she thumbs at it once more.

“Tell your attendant I’m allowing no one else but you,” Yonekura says, and Sho catches Fuma nodding. “And have him inform the entirety of the High Heaven that the Deity of Fertility and Deity of Matrimony are indefinitely confined, as per my order.”

No one would question that, Sho thinks, and he laughs. He levels Yonekura with a look, wondering why she’s acting otherwise as stated. She’s helping him escape from Ohno’s summon despite saying she wouldn’t, and he can’t figure out why.

But he knows better than to ask. He tells Fuma of her requests despite Fuma hearing all of it already before he adds, “I may not be back here for a while.”

Fuma simply nods in understanding. “Should anything happen, Sho-kun, I will inform you at once.”

“Thank you,” Sho says sincerely, then he folds into the space surrounding him and wills himself to be at Jun’s side, only opening his eyes once he’s certain he’s achieved it.

--

By the time Jun wakes from the healing trance Yonekura placed upon him, Sho has done at least thirty energy transfers. Yonekura is long gone, retired back to her pavilion since the gambling den is still closed, but she only left after teaching Sho how to do an energy transfer properly and how to assess Jun’s energy levels before and after each.

Sho helps him sit up and procures a cup of water for him before sitting by his side. Jun is cradling his forehead in one hand, eyes shut and mouth parted, and it takes a long while before he turns to look at Sho and accepts the proffered cup.

He downs it one go and asks for another, something Sho gives to him immediately, and by the third, he’s shaking his head.

Sho watches him take note of his surroundings, his eyes still half-lidded as he seems to realize where they are. Before this, Sho has never been to Jun’s pavilion. The simplicity he’s seeing is a manifestation of Jun’s present state, but since his influence in the Manifested World has hardly decreased, the entire place has retained its grandeur and splendor, save for the bedroom.

Not that it matters, Sho thinks.

Jun opens and closes one of his palms before he studies the back of the same hand. Then, finally, he speaks.

“This is your energy I’m feeling,” he says. It’s not a question.

Something about that makes Sho warm; he’s somewhat pleased that Jun recognizes what’s his. But then again, Jun has always been perceptive. It was Jun who first realized his growing influence back when they were still in the Manifested World.

“And I can’t feel mine,” Jun says this time, followed by a snort of amusement. “I suppose this is an unknown higher power’s idea of humor then, that they make me feel what it’s like to have my energy reserve sealed after I said I never experienced it.”

Sho remembers that conversation, and thinks those times were simpler. He’d put himself in Jun's situation now if he could. He’d done it before and he could do it again, anything to spare Jun from all this. Jun already went through so much.

“You’re not usually this quiet, Sho-san,” Jun remarks this time, gaze meeting his. “Are you tired of babysitting me already?”

Sho smiles; it’s a relief to hear Jun making light of things in an attempt to put Sho’s fears and worries to rest. “How do you feel?”

Jun levels him with a stare that causes his grin to widen. “That’s literally the first thing I told you since I woke up, and you’re asking me that anyway?” He gives Sho a once-over and frowns, and there, he looks like Jun despite the pallor that is yet to completely fade from his complexion. “And who put you on a stool anyway? Was it one of my attendants?”

Sho eyes the gilded seat that he’s been on since he got here. “Not even your attendants were allowed to see you.” At Jun’s frown deepening, he adds, “Yonekura’s orders.”

“Sometimes, I don’t know if you’re being deliberately obtuse or you simply like testing me every now and then,” Jun says, then he does something that makes Sho laugh with delight: he rolls his eyes and lets out a long-suffering sigh, one that Sho missed greatly. Then he flings the covers and pats the space next to him. “Sometime in the next moment would be preferable, Sho-san.”

Sho moves, climbing onto the bed and finding himself closer to Jun, enough for him to feel the warmth radiated by Jun’s body. Jun’s eyes travel down his neck, and soon, there are his fingers tracing the patterns of Sho’s kimono, a soft smile on his features as he commits the texture of them to memory.

“This is much better than the yukata you wore when we first met here,” Jun says eventually. Then he looks down on himself and lets out a laugh. “Though, who am I to talk.”

Jun’s current garb is not as grand as his usual one, replaced with a simple yukata dyed in lavender and secured with a gray obi. Anything immediately surrounding him has assumed its simplest, unadorned form since it's the closest to his person and is the immediate manifestation of his godhood, but to Sho, it makes no difference.

Jun is Jun. Whatever form he takes—mortal or god—or however he looks, Sho’s feelings for him won’t change.

Fingers now trace the angle of Sho’s shoulders, and he waits for the corresponding comment that will surely come.

“I always thought your shoulders sloped a bit too much than normal,” Jun says eventually, bitingly, and Sho laughs. “Even when we were still alive.”

“Still didn’t stop you from thinking I was hot back then, admit it,” Sho retorts, and Jun makes an unattractive face.

“Is this what embracing divinity brings you? Overconfidence?” Jun asks.

Sho gestures between them. “You invited me to your bed.”

“A lapse in judgment on my part, as I’m now finding out,” Jun says. He always liked having the last word.

Sho lets him have it then, settling for a sigh that he hopes conveys how he’s letting Jun get away with this for now before he reaches up to cup Jun’s nape as he leans in.

Kissing Jun after everything that has happened feels like a gift, and now that they have the time to get lost in one another, Sho wants to make the most of it. Now, there’s no one left to fight, no threat he has to subdue. Here, there are no souls wishing to harm them, and they don’t have to be on their guard.

They simply have to be themselves.

Jun meets him eagerly, openly, his hands finding purchase on either side of Sho’s neck, with one eventually sliding down to rest right over Sho’s heart. He kisses Sho like he’s longed for it, his desperation evident with every groan and every sigh of pleasure that escapes from him.

It’s Sho who pulls back to stare, finding Jun panting and flushed, color suffusing his cheeks and giving him a healthy glow that’s far more preferable than the pallor Sho has seen on him too many times. His thumb finds Jun’s jaw and strokes at the beginning of a stubble that turns the flesh there a little rough to the touch.

Sho clears his throat and licks his lips, resisting the temptation to kiss Jun senseless once more. “You’re still recovering.”

The eyebrow arching is so like Jun that it makes him press his smile against the corner of Jun’s mouth. “It’s too early for you to forget what I’m the god of.”

“Your godhood is currently dependent on your recovery,” Sho counters as he brushes his lips against the tip of Jun’s nose, right over the beauty mark that Jun has there.

“Which is why I’m asking you to take care of me,” Jun whispers between them, voice dropping suggestively that it ignites Sho’s desire and makes him still. Jun senses this, and he withdraws a bit to brush the hair off Sho’s forehead. “Was I not clear enough with that? I did invite you to the bed.”

To Sho’s recollection, Yonekura never specifically forbade any of this before she left. Then he realizes what he’s doing: he’s already considering Jun’s proposition despite knowing that Jun is still recovering.

He is already someone who’s difficult to resist for Sho, more so when he gets like this. When he acts spoiled and becomes needy, Sho can’t find it in him to refuse whatever he asks for, and this is something Jun knows as well.

The look in his eyes is too telling; he knows what he’s doing, and he knows Sho is bound to give in eventually.

Jun’s nose brushes against his this time, and the next words Jun say are uttered right over Sho’s lips. “Take care of me, Sho-san.”

Sho can feel his growing discomfort and shifts, something that Jun catches and follows with a downward sweep of his gaze. His hand leaves Sho’s neck and reappears to palm Sho through his kimono, and Sho hisses.

“I’ve missed you,” Jun whispers, and Sho’s control snaps.

Using the hand he has around Jun’s nape as leverage, he takes advantage of Jun’s current state and uses his strength to push Jun back against the bed, an action executed so swiftly and without finesse that it sends Jun gasping. Sho gives him no reprieve, descending on him at once and claiming his sweet mouth, preventing him from saying any more things that will drive Sho wild.

He missed Jun too. Terribly. He wants to take him apart and put him back together, properly and carefully—tenderly—with all the devotion and love that he can give. As Jun deserves.

The kiss turns languid as they both seem to realize that they have all the time now, and that they’re finally together as themselves, with nothing looming over their heads. There’s only this moment and the eternity that lies ahead of them, and the thought of it ushers a slowness that enables them both to explore, to familiarize themselves with one another for it’s been a long time since the last.

This, Sho realizes, is the first time they’re together while they’re in their true forms, and the thought of sharing his godhood with Jun and vice versa makes him heady, his blood pumping with want.

He breaks away from Jun’s addicting mouth to rain kisses down Jun’s neck, over each mark he has littering the skin there. Sho gets rewarded with a sigh for each, and when he sucks hard enough to leave his own mark, he hears his name uttered so breathlessly that he does it again.

Whenever they’re like this, Jun drops the honorifics, and the way Sho’s name spills freely from his lips is the sincerest admission he can make. Sho listens and understands what he needs, overcome with the desire to simply give.

He kisses over the jut of bone exposed in that sliver of space between the collars of Jun’s yukata, and hooks a finger under it. Jun arches—a yes without words—and Sho’s fingers trek southward to untie his obi. It gives, and by the time Sho draws back, Jun is there, exposed and waiting, flushed with need and beautiful.

Not for the first time, Sho thinks he’d worship him. He maps out the old scar lining Jun’s flank and finds smaller, thinner cuts around his navel, and when his gaze sweeps up, he catches what must’ve been a gaping gash right under Jun’s sternum, now scabbed over and in a darker pigmentation than the rest of his complexion.

He must be making an expression that betrays his feelings; Jun’s index finger finds his chin and tips it so their eyes would meet, and Sho sees no ounce of shame there, not even anger at what happened.

If anything, there’s only desire, laced with impatience.

“They didn’t get me,” Jun tells him, a reminder that Sho definitely needed to hear again. This is real. Whatever happened in the Netherworld is behind them, and Jun is willing to move forward with him. “I’m here.”

Sho takes Jun’s hand in his and kisses his knuckles, his palm, the white of his wrist. He’s here. Jun is here, and it takes repetition for the thought to completely sink in, for it to become something Sho wholeheartedly believes.

Jun is right here.

He squeezes Jun’s wrist one last time before he ducks, lips brushing over every bit of skin before him. He kisses each scar, each dip, each beauty mark. The parts he can’t tend to with his mouth, he touches reverently but greedily, like he wants to fuse himself with Jun and stay there for eternity.

He finds one of Jun’s nipples and flicks his tongue over it, causing Jun to shudder under him, Jun’s fingers tangling themselves in his hair and tugging, the pain making him hiss. In retaliation, Sho clamps his teeth over the hardened nub and tugs, and Jun’s hitched groan followed by his hips canting makes Sho burn.

Sho swipes his thumb over the other nipple and earns another tremor of Jun’s body, and he hides his smile against Jun’s chest as he says, “You’re sensitive here.”

He can feel Jun’s eyes on him, and he looks up to meet Jun’s arched eyebrow. If Jun isn’t so red, it would’ve intimidated Sho a bit. The sight only serves to endear Jun to him further.

“How astute of you,” Jun says flatly, sarcastically.

Sho doesn’t deign him with a response; he nips at the oversensitive flesh and sucks, fingers framing Jun’s narrow waist and holding him down as Jun’s spine curves in pleasure—an involuntary reaction that Sho wants to elicit from him again.

The way he’s using his mouth on Jun is downright obscene, the sounds echoing in the room. If Jun’s attendants are nearby, they’d undoubtedly piece together what’s happening in the bedroom. But Sho can’t find in him to care; he wants to savor this.

And with how Jun is yielding to him, his cries rivalling the noises Sho’s mouth makes, Jun doesn’t care either. It thrills Sho that they’re no longer subject to mortal customs now that they’re here; before, in the Manifested World, any moment they stole for themselves was kept quiet—discreet. There was the constant worry of the neighbors overhearing, and while they could always use their abilities to make their surroundings soundproof, he and Jun never did it.

In hindsight, Sho always thought they both have a thing for accidental exhibitionism. It’s not something they discussed, but now he knows he’s right. Here, they’re gods and mortal customs no longer apply to them. If someone’s lingering nearby, they’re the least of Sho’s concerns.

Let them hear, he thinks. Let them know what’s his.

He gives the same amount of attention to Jun’s other nipple, until Jun is writhing under him and he can feel Jun’s desire pressing against his hip. Sho tastes every bit of skin available to him, tongue swirling over Jun’s navel when he’s finally low enough, his hand flat on Jun’s chest to press him back against the mattress when his back arches once more.

He maneuvers himself between Jun’s legs, his thighs spreading to make room for him, and Sho presses a kiss to the inside of one before he breathes in deep, Jun’s arousal flooding his senses and making his vision hazy.

His nails dig into the meat of Jun’s other thigh as he sucks hard enough to leave a bruise on the pale flesh. Sho wants. He wants and craves, and inside him is an intense need to mark everything, a display of how carnal his passion for Jun is.

Being with Jun is always a test of his self-control, something that he should’ve, perhaps, expected considering what Jun is the god of. But thinking about Jun and being with him are two different things—Jun is always more than anything Sho can imagine, better than anything he can pray for using the limited words he has.

He’s overcome with a myriad of contrasting emotions at present: he wants to possess and give, he wants control only to yield. Jun has always inspired such things in him—things he never quite understood the gravity of, even from the time they were still alive.

Desire coils low in his belly, and Sho lets it dictate his subsequent actions. He darts a tongue out to lick a long line from base to tip, getting Jun’s cock thoroughly wet before he leaves open-mouthed kisses all over the length.

The noises Jun is making are far more sonorous than any hymns of veneration Sho has heard. It rings in his ears and guides him, directs him on how to better please Jun.

Sho laps up the pearl of precome at the tip, Jun’s taste coating his tongue before he wraps his lips around the length and swallows. A hand fists in his hair and sends Jun’s cock in his mouth deeper, but he manages to hold, flattening his tongue and letting Jun use his mouth.

One of Jun’s thigh rests against his shoulder now, Jun’s heel touching a part of his back with each filthy, wet suck. Jun is thick and heavy on his tongue, twitching with want as Sho worships this part of him to the best of his ability.

He must look so debauched as he allows Jun to fuck his mouth like this. Sho opens his eyes and finds Jun looking at him, and Sho lets the tip graze the back of his throat just to see Jun’s full lips part in pleasure.

Jun’s thumb strokes his cheekbone, and Sho hears the rumble from his chest as he groans, “The High Heaven ought to see you like this.”

That makes Sho pause, then he feels himself redden at the thought as his cock twitches in response. His eyes drift shut and he lets Jun go with a loud, obscene pop before he scatters kisses on the length again, muffling his own noises there.

“You want them to,” Jun says above him, and Sho doesn’t respond, instead showers a series of open-mouthed kisses down Jun's sack before moving back up. “Oh, you do.”

He does. Sho does and it’s making his vision swim; if this is an extension of Jun’s abilities given who he is, Sho can’t find it in him to complain about it. These are the things he can never admit, but the idea of Jun knowing, of saying the right words—it makes him want to not disappoint Jun..

He wants to impress, to please Jun so well that it will render him speechless.

“I could have you on your knees like this while I hold court with my attendants,” Jun husks, and the image is so vivid in Sho’s mind: Jun seated in the administrative hall of his pavilion, his attendants milling about, and Sho right there between his legs, mouth stuffed with cock.

A moan, and one that isn’t from Sho—it’s affecting Jun as well.

Sho kisses the head and laps up the moisture there, feeling Jun tremble above him. He’d do it, he thinks dazedly. If Jun asks, he’d do it.

“Your pretty lips around me while I go about my business, my heavenly affairs,” Jun continues, ending in a gasp when Sho wraps his mouth on him once more. “Just like this. You’d do it so well too. With everyone looking, you’d want to do your best.”

Their eyes meet, and Sho moans around him, letting Jun feel his answer as it reverberates through him—yes.

It’ll be a privilege, Sho thinks, conveying it by going as far as he can, Jun’s cock sliding as deeply as it can go before he draws back and does it again. It’ll be an honor.

“But as much as I want to put you on display,” Jun begins, ending in a hitched groan as Sho’s throat works around him, “I don’t want them to see how good you are for me.” He combs Sho’s mane back before pushing his face further downward, and Sho shuts his eyes, body thrumming in happiness at how well he’s being used. “I’m too selfish for that.”

They hold that position for as long as Sho can, his nose touching the hard line of Jun’s pelvis, until Sho feels the need to breathe. Jun’s fingers eventually give, and Sho withdraws, threads of glistening saliva clinging from Jun’s cock to his bottom lip.

Sho feels too hot in his own skin, his clothes a hindrance. He wants to press back against Jun, skin against skin this time, and he makes quick work of untying his obi, flinging it to the side without caring where it lands.

His kimono falls open and he only shrugs it off one shoulder before he returns to kissing Jun’s cock, his tongue already craving its taste. He remembers that night Jun drove him to madness with his mouth and hands and wants to return the favor, but he realizes the odds may be up against him the entire time.

Jun, after all, is the Deity of Fertility.

“I wish you could see yourself,” Jun tells him as he lets the tip slide back in his mouth, tongue teasing the slit. “See how hungry you are for it.”

Sho lets him go as he moistens his lips. “For you.”

Jun’s slow blink adds to his attractiveness, and Sho commits the sight of him to memory: flushed down to his chest, lips parted, eyes glossed over and dark.

“For you,” he repeats, and swallows around Jun once more, his cheeks hollowing.

Jun’s response is an uninhibited moan that anyone nearby would’ve heard, his hips canting to meet Sho eagerly, unabashedly. Jun has set a rhythm now, fucking his mouth and groaning at how good it feels, Sho’s name a litany that spills freely from his lips.

Sho doesn’t touch himself despite the urge building in him; he clings to Jun’s hip and uses his other hand to keep Jun’s other thigh flat on the bed, all his noises muffled by the thick cock that’s repeatedly hitting the muscles of his throat.

Jun’s heel taps the space between his shoulder blades, and Sho draws away with a filthy sound. He sees Jun wrap his slender fingers around the base, and finds himself in awe at Jun’s self-control, at his ability to stave off his own release.

“How?” is all Jun asks, and when the word hits, Sho finds himself unable to think.

Jun is letting him decide. Heat consumes Sho, blinding him with savage lust, and he exhales as he attempts to pierce through the fog in his brain. He wants so many things. There are infinite possibilities on how Jun can better make use of him, and his head swims.

Then it settles to the most pressing desire and Sho makes up his mind.

He moistens his lips, holds Jun’s gaze as he dips his head lower, and opens his mouth, his tongue darting out.

He sees Jun’s nostrils flare before his grip around himself shifts, and turns to a relentless, almost punishing stroke, the head grazing Sho’s tongue because of how frenzied the movement is.

“Open your mouth,” he hears Jun say, “wider,” and he obeys.

He watches Jun’s face and pinpoints the exact moment Jun’s pleasure crests: Jun’s eyes fall shut as Sho’s name passes between his lips, a broken sound that sends his entire body quivering just as warmth hits Sho’s tongue.

He’s unprepared for Jun’s hand fisting in his hair and pushing his face back down as Jun shoves his cock back in his mouth, letting him taste every ounce of his pleasure, but he doesn’t protest. Sho only moans in bliss as Jun coats his tongue, some of it mixing with the spittle on his chin as Jun withdraws.

Jun’s fingers grasp his jaw forcefully, angling his head for a better look as Jun’s eyes rake over his face. “Show me,” he tells Sho, and Sho does, letting Jun see what a mess he’s made of him, at how he’s still on Sho’s tongue, some of him streaking his bottom lip, his chin.

The slow curve of Jun’s lips sends him shivering; the satisfaction on his face is undeniable.

Then Jun’s touch shifts, his index finger supporting Sho’s chin as he pushes and forces Sho’s mouth shut, causing Sho to reflexively swallow, his throat bobbing. Sho trembles, and lets out a needy, embarrassing noise, something that earns Jun’s thoughtful hum.

Jun lets him go as he pants, body hypersensitive, his every nerve exposed and aching for Jun’s touch, for anything Jun will give him. Jun shifts, letting his thigh slide off Sho’s shoulder and hit the mattress, and when Sho looks up at him, he has a finger tapping against the mark under his lip.

There must be something in his expression that betrays his need because Jun smiles, sweet and devoid of teasing as he beckons Sho over. “Come here.”

Sho does, so accustomed to obeying his every command that moving is second nature to him, hands planting on Jun’s either side as he hovers over Jun, and Jun reaches up, arms looping around his neck as they kiss open-mouthed, Sho’s groans muffled and mixed with Jun’s own.

He feels Jun’s arms loosen, sliding inside his kimono and further down, until they’re cupping his ass and squeezing. It sends his hips forward, and Jun noisily breaks the kiss, laughing between them.

“Of all your assets, this is the one I always looked at,” Jun admits, kneading for emphasis. “Even from before.”

Sho inhales sharply at that; when Jun admits something like this without prompting, it’s done deliberately to drive him insane. He braces himself for what’s about to come despite knowing it’s futile and that he’ll never be truly prepared for what Jun has in store for him.

“You have no idea how happy it made me whenever you walked in front of my desk without your coat on,” Jun drawls against Sho’s ear. “The things I thought of doing back then, all those filthy fantasies I had of you.”

Unable to help himself, Sho bites on Jun’s collarbone, delighting in the surprised gasp that he elicits. “Tell me,” he breathes, and Jun nips at his earlobe in response.

“I would’ve bent you over,” Jun says, acquiescing. “Over that particular photocopying machine that you liked using, the one I always gave up for you to use whenever you went to the photocopying room while I was there.”

Sho can see it happening and he sucks another bruise on Jun’s neck, his words failing him.

Jun doesn’t appear to mind, one of his hands pinching the swell of Sho’s ass as he continues, “And when that’s done, I would’ve used my mouth on you. I would’ve been good at it too, eating you out like that as you tried to keep quiet so no one would find us.”

The image sears in Sho’s mind and he can only whisper Jun’s name, his hips thrusting on their own accord, as much as Jun’s grip allows them to. It’s not much; he hardly feels any friction on his cock and he lets out a quiet, pitiful noise against Jun’s pulse.

Jun presses a kiss to his cheek before his voice drops into a husk against Sho’s ear.

“Do you want me to do that?”

Sho takes a moment, trembling in Jun’s hold as he attempts to make sense of the question. The answer comes in a rush, something he conveys by nipping at Jun’s jaw, his agreement uttered there that it almost sounds like a growl, and Jun’s hands slide upwards to pat his sides before nudging him.

“Flat against the bed,” Jun says, and Sho scrambles to obey, but Jun clicks his tongue and shakes his head when he attempts to lie back. “Your chest, I mean. Get on your knees.”

Sho lifts the collar of his kimono in a silent question, and Jun grins. “Leave it on.”

He does and gets himself in place, his knees folded under him, his ass in the air as he lowers his trunk that his chest touches the bed. The hem of his kimono grazes the back of his thighs, sending a ticklish sensation that makes him squirm.

“Hands behind your back,” Jun says, and Sho obeys. He shakes then; without his hands to support him, his weight is resting on his shoulders and his knees. If he loses his balance, he’ll fall to his side.

He feels Jun grip his wrists, squeezing as if to reassure him. Sho has his cheek pressed against the sheets as he pants in anticipation, hissing when one of Jun’s hands slip under his kimono and lifts it, leaving him exposed.

Cool air hits heated skin, and he shivers. He feels Jun come closer, and soon, his breaths are tickling the small of his back and further down.

“I would’ve done this to you had you asked,” Jun whispers, the last syllable uttered right over Sho’s tailbone, and Sho senses him press a smile against the cleft as he adds, “senpai.”

Any reply Sho has for ends in a choked moan as Jun tongue finds him, prodding and licking over the tight ring of muscle, making good on his claim about his skills. Jun fucks him with his tongue, each swipe sending stars in his vision, his hands clenching into fists behind him.

He bucks back, meeting Jun halfway, and lets out a frustrated noise when his cock remains devoid of friction. This, he finally realizes, is why Jun had his hands behind him: Jun doesn’t want him touching himself.

One of Jun’s hands kneads one cheek and keeps him open as his tongue licks around, turning Sho into a quivering mess of garbled groans consisting of various debauched versions of Jun’s name.

The inside of his thighs tingle as Jun flattens his tongue, and he utters Jun’s name desperately, in warning.

Jun stops. It’s so abrupt that it makes Sho cry out in frustration, thrashing against his hold before he catches himself. He pants then, forehead pressed against the mattress as he tries to even out his breaths.

A thumb runs over his hole, sending a jolt through his spine.

“Jun,” he says, broken.

The grip around his wrists loosens, and Sho finds himself flipped to his back, Jun’s arm slipping under his nape as Jun straddles him. His mouth parts when he feels Jun’s cock touch his, head throwing back as Jun holds them both before he begins moving.

His hands find purchase on the sides of Jun’s face, and he tugs Jun down to him, kissing him senseless as they move in unison, chasing after their pleasure at the same time. The feeling of Jun’s cock sliding against his own elicits another moan from him, one that Jun swallows because they’re yet to part.

Sho feels his desire crest, inching ever closer, and just before it hits, he breaks the kiss and presses his cheek against Jun’s.

“I love you,” he whispers as he holds on.

Sparks erupt from beneath his eyelids as he lets go, and distantly, he’s aware of Jun finishing with him before the haze completely floods his mind and there’s nothing but bliss. He swims in it, allowing it to course through him until his surroundings right themselves again.

Jun’s face is mashed against his neck, his breaths as hurried and as uneven as Sho’s.

He traces unfathomable patterns against Jun’s shoulder, the one that’s exposed. The afterglow takes a considerable amount of time to fade, and Sho wonders if that’s one of the perks of sleeping with Jun.

When he finds his voice, he almost doesn’t recognize it because of how raw he sounds.

“Of course you don’t have a refractory period.”

It makes him laugh as the realization hits: there’s no glamor anymore. The previous times they slept together, Jun was aided by the glamor and had a mortal guise, and mortals have one. But now that Jun is in his divine form, he’s a fertility god through and through.

His stamina must be limitless.

“Some of us do,” Sho says when Jun lifts his head to look at him. He’s beautiful, cheeks still suffused with pink, gaze warm as he takes in Sho’s amusement.

“How terrible that must be for you,” Jun says, deadpan, and Sho gives in to another chuckle.

“You’re right,” he agrees, hand finding the small of Jun’s back and settling there. “With how you look all the time, I wish I had your stamina.” Then a thought hits him: “You can bless me.”

“I’m still recovering,” Jun reminds him, and Sho’s other hand searches blindly for his wrist, assessing him. Jun senses this and nudges Sho’s cheek with his nose. “I’m fine.”

“A little low than what I’d normally allow,” Sho tells him, pertaining to Jun’s energy levels that he only just examined. He sends a bout of his spiritual energy to Jun, sending Jun’s eyes drifting momentarily shut.

Jun kisses his neck after. “Thank you.”

Sho merely hums, content to remain like this for a while longer. They’re filthy, and Jun will likely complain about it in the next few moments, but Sho basks in it anyway. The closeness is something he almost lost, and that thought will permanently linger in his mind.

Silence has already stretched between them by the time Sho finds the courage to ask.

“How did you remember me?”

He knows the broken bell had something to do with it. But no matter how hard he’s thought about it, he could never figure out what about it made Jun remember. Jun was so close to forgetting everything, to becoming another lost soul in the Netherworld. He almost faded that time, and if he did, it would’ve happened right before Sho’s eyes.

The reality of how close that was from happening makes Sho hold him tighter. Jun’s a little heavy as he remains draped over him, but he doesn’t want Jun anywhere else. His weight is comforting, a proof that Sho’s prayer was heard that day and he got to keep this.

“When you blessed me, you gave me that bell,” Jun replies, face now angled towards Sho’s own, his breath fanning Sho’s cheek. “I always kept it with me, you know. It was the first thing you ever gave to me.”

Sho pinches his side for that, causing Jun to squirm in his hold. “I gave you a recommendation letter.”

“In this life, I mean,” Jun says with an annoyed huff. He resettles back in Sho’s arms, and Sho can’t help the pleased noise that escapes from him.

Jun hides his face from him when he continues, “When I could no longer fend them off, it was the one thing I held close to me.”

Sho stills, just as Jun adds, “I didn’t want them to have it. They could have me, I thought. But I couldn’t let them have it.”

Sho has to swallow through the lump that suddenly lodged in his throat before he manages to ask, “Do you remember everything?”

Everything that happened while I wasn’t there, he doesn’t say.

Jun’s voice is small when he responds this time. “Not all of it. Bits and pieces. I don’t know. I may have drifted as it happened. I don’t remember sleeping in that place. I don’t remember waking there either. But I remember seeing those walls and knowing, somehow, that I was supposed to be there. Out of all the places in that abandoned city, it was the one that welcomed me in its own way.”

That place was designed to feel familiar to lull a soul into complacency then slowly warped itself so as to destroy whatever intact memories of another life its occupant had. Sho understands this; he had the uncanny feeling that it was exactly how the Netherworld worked when it erased the memories of the previous life.

But for Jun to experience that, it makes Sho ache.

“I was late,” he finds himself saying. “I’m sorry.”

“You still came to find me,” Jun says, dismissing his apology. “That’s enough.”

“It isn’t,” Sho insists, and when he feels Jun protest, he applies a smidgen of pressure around Jun’s form. “Listen. I need you to hear this. I need to say it. It’s been on my mind since we got back, and I haven’t forgiven myself for it.”

Jun lifts himself off him, palms flat against the bed as he looms over Sho now, and Sho cradles his face in one hand as the other wraps under Jun’s bicep.

“I almost lost you there,” he says, and when Jun opens his mouth, he presses his thumb against his lips to halt his words. “I know this. I saw it. And for a moment there, I believed it was what would happen. That you would never remember any of it.” He shuts his eyes as the next words gut him anew, “And I knew it was my fault. I was late. I wasted time by talking to Nino, to Ohno even. I should’ve searched for the closest rift the moment they took you.”

“But you know something?” he asks this time as he opens his eyes and meets Jun’s confused stare. “I thought about it. I thought about you not remembering, of remaining in there, and I made up my mind. I would’ve stayed there with you had it come to that.”

“You didn’t,” Jun whispers, emotions flitting across his face, the thought clearly horrifying him. “You didn’t think that. No.”

Sho knew he would forget, had he made the choice. That it would damn him and Jun both, their existences fading to oblivion as they lost parts of who they are and eventually, all of themselves in that wretched place.

But he still would’ve made the same decision.

“Jun,” he says firmly, cutting off all the protests from him, “I would always choose the Netherworld that has you in it rather than the High Heaven without you.”

Jun grabs the hand that’s cradling his cheek and presses a kiss to Sho’s palm, his emotions all over the surface. Of the two of them, it’s Jun who always held himself to a standard, never letting himself be perceived and too open. Sho has long accepted this about him and loves him for it, but he adores every second of this moment where Jun finally lets his feelings show.

“Something in that bell made me remember you,” Jun says against his palm, not quite looking at him. “I’ll never know exactly what it is, but when I saw it, I knew it was something I was protective over.”

Divine blessings held no meaning in the Netherworld. It was why Aiba Masaki’s blessing of good fortune was rendered useless when he was looking for Jun; if it worked, he would’ve found Jun safe, not a hair on him harmed.

But his blessing, Sho is now coming to understand, has always worked differently. When he bestowed it upon Jun at the time, he also binded Jun to him. It’s what made their marriage appear in Fuma’s list—his blessing made it binding and true.

The list never lies.

A god’s words are absolute in the Manifested World, but when a god promises himself to another, they’re no longer bound by the limitations that exist among the realms.

They’re gods. If they say so, it will happen.

Didn't Nino tell him the same thing?

Sho can only stare at Jun as the gravity of his godhood hits him.

Whatever it amounts to, he remembers himself saying at the time, if it even amounts to anything.

That day, he made Jun his, and the realms recognized that union. Sho is the Deity of Matrimony; his word on marriage is held above anyone else’s. Even the Netherworld surrendered its hold on Jun at his behest; his divinity unchallenged even by the oldest, most ancient powers that shaped the world.

The realization is staggering and he gasps.

This place, Ohno told him once, when they stood in the empty courtyard of a then-dilapidated pavilion, has acknowledged you.

Perhaps he is indeed every bit of the god he spent so long trying hard to be.

Jun takes one look at him, his eyes narrowing in understanding.

“You know how it happened,” he says.

Sho nods, then he tells Jun everything, explaining it to the best of his ability, until his words finally fail him and there’s nothing more to say.

Jun smiles before leaning down, capturing his mouth in a sweet, dizzying kiss.

“I always knew it was you,” Jun says against his lips. “I never doubted.”

Sho had his doubts back then, but now they all seem to fade away. He holds Jun close and finds himself nodding, finally sharing what Jun has always believed and knowing in his heart that every bit of it is true.

It’s always been him.

--

Their indefinite (and joint) confinement revolved mostly around sex, something no one can berate Sho for if they remember to whom he’s married to. In between those, however, he finds the time to take care of Jun as originally intended by Yonekura, until such time that Jun does away with the seal on his own.

Just as Sho predicted he would do.

The bedroom has changed from the time Sho first laid eyes on it. It slowly assumed its former grandeur: the bed becoming gilded, the sheets replaced with a fabric that has the intricate stitching of a fox, and furniture around them becoming polished and adorned with precious metals.

Sho feels like he ought to have known that Jun will always be accompanied by splendor no matter where he goes. In the Manifested World, he always wore the tacky jewelry that only worked for him and no one else. Here, of course, his immediate surroundings are a display of opulence.

With Jun no longer needing energy transfers, technically, Sho’s presence in his pavilion is no longer required. But with Jun’s recovery comes his unrivaled stamina and endurance, and any thoughts of leaving have long evaporated from Sho’s mind. He already saw Jun in his divine form multiple times in the past, but this is the first time he’s had Jun like this, his raw, uninhibited power within reach as he repeatedly comes undone under Sho’s touch.

It’s addicting. It would take more than an eternity for Sho to tire of him.

They’re tangled together in Jun’s recently unmade bed when Jun’s casual exploration of his back halts, and Sho knows he must’ve sensed something.

Or someone.

“What is it?” he asks, looking over his shoulder.

“An attendant of the Heavenly Sovereign,” Jun says, eyes narrowing.

“Outside?” Sho asks, though he’s already reaching for his kimono and shrugging it back on.

“Outside the pavilion,” Jun clarifies. “Addressing me. And you.” He eyes Sho’s kimono in distaste, but he hands over Sho’s obi when Sho gestures towards it. His nose scrunches. “We’re being summoned.”

“Took him long enough,” Sho says. He’s been expecting that to come for a while now, especially since Jun’s recovery. But something must’ve held the attendant up; that, or something more pressing required the Heavenly Sovereign’s attention.

But now his attention is on them, and there’s little use to delaying the inevitable. Sho gets dressed and makes himself presentable, smoothing over the creases in his kimono with a wave of his hand.

His appearance grooms itself, and he already feels refreshed. If there’s any trace of Jun left on him, it would be all the bruises littering his skin as they hardly stopped having their fill of one another.

“Excellency,” they both hear past the bedroom’s doors, and Jun sighs, his annoyance palpable. He never liked being interrupted. “The Heavenly Sovereign has called for a Heavenly Assembly and requests your presence.” A pause, then Jun’s attendant adds, “Along with the Deity of Matrimony’s presence.”

Given all the noises they must’ve made, it would be deluded of Sho to think that there’s still an attendant of Jun’s who doesn’t know that he’s here. And if they’re anything like Fuma, then word has already spread regarding Sho’s presence here.

Even Ohno himself knew, he realizes now. He did send his attendant here.

“I know,” Jun says, and Sho shakes his head at his petulance.

It’s not their fault, he mouths, and Jun lets out another sigh as he relents.

“We’ll be heading there ourselves,” Jun says this time, and they hear an affirmative noise from behind the doors. “I imagine the assembly will take longer than usual; make use of the time efficiently then. I will not be requiring your company or anyone else’s for that matter. Inform the others.”

“Understood,” they hear, followed by a shuffle of movement that can only be the attendant bowing. “By your leave, Excellency.”

“Go,” Jun says, and soon, they hear footsteps fading down the corridor. Jun faces him then, head tilted in question. “Shall we walk there?”

Sho smiles, finding the idea tempting. But he’s not as mean and as petty as Jun, so he shakes his head. “They’re already assembled there and waiting for us. We mustn’t make them wait any longer.”

“You’ll have to forgive me, Sho-san, if I still hold a grudge over this,” Jun says as Sho spreads his palm and summons the necessary energy to teleport himself and Jun to the Heavenly Spiritual Pavilion. “He gave you this mission then abandoned you, and even though you succeeded, still you’re to answer for it?”

“He’s Emperor,” Sho says, extending a hand to Jun, who takes it. “You know the inner workings of the High Heaven better than I do. All the politicking and the rules.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Jun tells him as the space around them folds in itself and envelops them, their surroundings disappearing before being replaced by the marble steps leading to the Heavenly Spiritual Pavilion, “but sometimes, I miss the Manifested World.”

“You miss the gossipy neighbors we had?” Sho asks as they climb the steps at a leisurely pace. They’re here now, and if the deities of the High Heaven are already waiting inside, they can wait a bit longer. “Or is it the weekend barbecues?”

“The only rule that existed while we were there revolved around transgression,” Jun says. “There, we didn’t answer to anyone.”

Sho halts in his steps and faces him, tongue against his cheek. “I never thought I’d hear such disrespect from you.” He looks around them for emphasis. “Especially now that we’re here.”

“Let them hear,” Jun says. “Haven’t you had enough?”

Sho exhales and digests the question, and thinks on everything that has happened: from the beginning to his appointment to the present, he’s been doing what other people told him to do. The only time he did as he wanted, apart from his recent sojourn in Jun’s pavilion, was during most of his stay in the Manifested World.

There, he did things in his own way, at his own pace. No one dictated how he went about his mission, how he handled each matter that required his attention, how he hunted for his predecessor. There, no one summoned him.

He resumes climbing up, only giving Jun his response when the doors are right in front of them and are swinging open to signal their arrival.

“I have.”

--

The Great Hall of the Heavenly Spiritual Pavilion remains unchanged from the last time Sho has seen it, the opulence nearly blinding as it assaults Sho’s line of sight. He sees a gathering of deities there, but unlike the last time, Sho is no longer garbed in a simpler outfit.

He’s of the same standing as them now, just another one of the many gods with similar abilities and influence.

He keeps his head high as the crowd parts for them, and he approaches the foot of the dais and meets Ohno’s steady gaze on the throne before he makes his obeisance.

“I greet the Heavenly Sovereign of the Plain of High Heaven,” he enunciates perfectly, evenly, “and all the assembled deities here.”

“You’ve been summoned a while back, Sakurai Sho, Deity of Matrimony,” Ohno says this time, in a voice that commands attention, “yet you only answered now. Respond.”

Sho looks over his shoulder and finds Jun staring unimpressed at Ohno, and somewhere behind Jun, he catches sight of Nino, with Yonekura standing right beside him.

“The Heavenly Sovereign must forgive my tardiness and negligence,” he says with another bow, just enough to make it look sincere. “My confinement only ended today.”

Ohno levels him with a stare, something he returns. Then Ohno exhales. “And have you sufficiently recovered from your journey then?”

“Yes,” Sho says.

Ohno’s gaze moves to Jun. “The High Heaven is pleased with your swift recovery, Matsumoto Jun, Deity of Fertility.”

Jun steps right beside Sho as he makes a show of his bow, purposely exaggerating the act. “I am positively moved by your graciousness, Heavenly Sovereign.”

Were Sho not trained to school his features to seriousness thanks to the countless business meetings he took part in when he was still alive, he would’ve snorted in amusement.

Ohno lets Jun’s audacity pass with a wave of his hand. “You’ve been summoned here, Sakurai Sho, to answer for your decision to enter the Netherworld despite being informed that the High Heaven separates itself from that realm entirely.”

Sho feels the entire hall’s attention shift to him and hears murmurs all over the hall when he takes his time to think.

Then: “I was recently sent to a mission sanctioned by the Heavenly Sovereign himself. That mission was to find the former Deity of Matrimony and to have them answer for their transgressions against the laws of the Plain of High Heaven. With their entry to the Netherworld, I thought it part of my mission to follow.”

His deliberate exclusion of Jun in the narrative doesn’t escape Ohno, whose gaze flits to Jun for a moment before settling back to Sho.

“The High Heaven has informed you that with your predecessor’s entry to the Netherworld, the mission was considered complete,” Ohno says this time. “And still, you went there.”

“When the former Deity of Matrimony fled to the Netherworld, they took something from me,” Sho answers, and the hall falls silent. To his knowledge, no one knows about Jun being taken at the time, save for Nino, Ohno, and Yonekura. But surely, with the manner of their return and their state when they arrived here, speculation has gone around.

He exchanges a look with Jun, and Jun nods.

Sho inclines his head as he amends his earlier words. “Or someone, I should say.”

The hall erupts into another series of whispers, only ceasing when Ohno lifts a hand to silence them. “Do you know the consequences of your actions had you failed?” Without giving him a chance to respond, Ohno continues, “The High Heaven could’ve lost two deities.”

Ah. So that’s why.

It dawns on Sho now, the reason why Ohno stopped him. It was his duty as the Emperor of the Plain of High Heaven. He saw to the appointments of deities, to choosing a successor should it be required. And the High Heaven couldn’t have afforded losing two deities at the same time; it would greatly impact the lives of mortals in the realm below.

If Jun was truly, hopelessly lost to them at the time, Ohno couldn’t risk Sho following suit.

“The Plain of High Heaven exists to safeguard the faith of those residing in the Manifested World,” Ohno says, and he sounds like a king, detached and civil. “If the High Heaven ceases to function as intended…” Ohno pauses then, looking thoughtful. “You know better than anyone what would happen.”

If the people prayed to an empty shrine, it would eventually lead to dissent. Dissent would lead to a dwindling influence, to an absence of belief, and whoever gets appointed next has to go through what Sho already went through.

It isn’t something he would want anyone to experience. All the self-doubt that he harbored at the time, the helplessness of his situation—no one deserves that.

But Sho’s feelings on the matter are of no relevance here. His answer is what Ohno wants, and it never changed.

“I would renounce the entirety of the High Heaven,” he says evenly, not caring if it earns the shock of the hall surrounding him, “if that's what I had to do.”

Not for the mission, he doesn’t say, because there’s no need to.

He would damn them all for Jun, that much was apparent to everyone, causing an uproar that Sho imagines his predecessor being proud of if they were present. They thrived on chaos; something like this would’ve amused them.

Let the High Heaven fall, Sho doesn’t say, and he knows he has no need to. Ohno understands; the look he gives Sho is a mixture of resignation and respect. Perhaps Ohno has always known this would be his answer.

Ohno, after all, did break the seal that separated the rest of his powers from his godhood.

Ohno lifts his hand once more, quelling the entire hall to begrudging, uncomfortable silence. Sho has no doubt he’s now the recipient of the ire of some of the deities here; how selfish they must be finding him.

“I’ve always admired your honesty, Sakurai Sho,” Ohno says, which is unexpected. Sho was waiting for a reprimand, not a compliment. His next words are addressed to the hall then: “We’ve heard the reason. I did not call for this assembly to bestow judgment; he is not the one who’s to answer for the atrocities committed in the Manifested World. His answer has been given and I find it satisfactory. Will anyone protest?”

Sho senses Jun’s surprise beside him; like him, Jun must’ve expected to be punished in some way, perhaps barred from entering the Manifested World for quite some time save for when their festivals are being held. But there’s no punishment, and now Ohno is using his powers as an Emperor in the most unconventional way possible.

Sho wants to laugh. The entire Great Hall is brimming with dissent, and yet no one raises their voice, unwilling to spite their Emperor’s decision and to be on his bad side. The way Ohno phrased his question left no room for argument, instead posed as a challenge, something no one in their right mind would dare take.

This is, Sho remembers, the most influential deity in the Plain of High Heaven.

He doesn’t have to turn around to know that Nino is smiling. He must be; even Sho is having a difficult time schooling his features to nonchalance.

Ohno lowers his hand then. “Very well. Now that we’ve heard the answer, I think everyone would want an account of how the mission went.” He assumes a more relaxed posture on the throne now, weight leaning against one of the armrests comfortably. “You’ve been summoned here, Matsumoto Jun, for your account, and anything you cannot say, I trust that Sakurai Sho will be able to.”

The tension in the hall gradually dissipates, shifting to thinly veiled curiosity. Aiba did say it’s been a while since the High Heaven had sanctioned a mission. And considering the parties involved, it’s naturally something that everyone wants to know about.

Most of the deities here, after all, have interacted with the former Deity of Matrimony.

Jun shares a look with him, and at Sho’s smile for him, he opens his mouth.

“I am Matsumoto Jun, the current Deity of Fertility of the Plain of High Heaven, and I swear on the laws bounding all the realms that my account of things from here on is the truth, not embellished nor altered.”

--

Jun’s personal account ends with him being taken to the Netherworld. The things that happened there before Sho’s arrival are things only Sho knows, and it’s a secret Sho will never share with anyone.

Jun’s explanation for it is losing his grip on reality, having been warped by the Netherworld itself. If Ohno notices his deflection, he doesn’t comment on it. His focus shifts to Sho when Jun steps back, and Sho repeats Jun’s words earlier, swearing on the oldest laws known to all the realms that he’s about to divulge the truth and nothing more.

He’s the only one who knows what happened to the former Deity of Matrimony. He sees how Ohno knows that; the man’s gaze on him is unwavering, and while his posture remains relaxed, Sho doesn’t miss how his hands are gripping the armrests with force.

Sho recounts the events with a practiced detachment. He describes the Netherworld, how it taunted him and loomed over his consciousness, how the souls there eternally hungered. He skims over the part on how he finds Jun and keeps the details scant.

And when he finally retells what happened on the rooftop, something not even Jun knew until now, his predecessor’s final question lies at the tip of his tongue.

He watches Ohno’s face and sees his expression shutter, the momentary fluttering of his eyelids too telling and obvious to everyone present. Some look away, but Sho doesn’t. He feels that he needs to see this: an undeniable proof of Ohno’s connection to his predecessor.

Whenever Sho looks at Ohno now, he sees them. In a way, they lived on.

“Did they say anything?” comes Ohno’s question, faint but unmistakable. There, Sho sees, is no longer the Emperor of the Plain of High Heaven. Not even the Deity of Oceans and Seafaring.

There’s only a brother, asking after a sibling that is long lost to him.

No one else should hear this, Sho decides. It’s not for everyone to know.

Sho shakes his head once, and Ohno seems to take his meaning, his shoulders uncoiling from how tightly he must’ve held himself as he waited for Sho’s response.

Sho resumes the rest of the tale until he reaches the part of his sudden arrival to the Butterfly Koi Pavilion, and he turns to incline his head apologetically in Aiba Masaki’s direction, who only gives him a wide, warm smile.

There’s a pregnant pause after Sho finishes. No one dares pierce the silence with a conjecture or a comment, not when the air hangs heavy with the reality that the former Deity of Matrimony self-destructed and no longer exists.

Then, finally: “The Plain of High Heaven commends Sakurai Sho, the Deity of Matrimony, and Matsumoto Jun, the Deity of Fertility, for the completion of this mission,” Ohno says in his Emperor voice. “This matter is now considered resolved, and a written account of it shall be under the jurisdiction of the Lower Heaven.”

Everyone in the hall moves into place, making obeisance. “As the Heavenly Sovereign decrees,” comes the chorus.

“This Heavenly Assembly is now dismissed,” Ohno says with a wave of his hand, and all the deities move to depart the Great Hall, save for Sho. He remains where he is, and he briefly exchanges a nod with Jun before he waits for Ohno to descend from the dais.

Jun leaves with the rest, and Sho thinks he hears him huff at something Nino may have said, but they’re too far from him so he can’t discern the words. He supposes he can ask Jun about it later.

Ohno only regards him once the doors to the hall swing shut and they’re alone.

Sho moves to speak, but Ohno beats him to it.

“Your omission of what you’re about to tell me is still bound by your earlier oath.”

“I cannot say this in front of everyone,” he explains. “Hence my omission of it.”

“I figured,” Ohno says, then he stands from the throne and descends the dais. When he stands in front of Sho, it’s only then that Sho remembers that Ohno is shorter than him. “Tell me then.”

Sho does, repeating his predecessor’s final words verbatim, and respectfully averts his gaze when Ohno’s expression twists in pain, a muscle sliding in his jaw.

A long, quiet moment passes between them before Ohno speaks, and when he does, Sho doesn’t hear an Emperor speaking nor a god.

He hears a man.

“You and I both know what the answer to that question is,” he tells Sho, his features resigned, his eyes lost. There are tears caught there now, something Ohno blinks away. “I killed them when I refused to act.”

Whether that’s true or not is not for Sho to say. “I’m not here to pass judgment.”

Ohno tilts his head at that, an acknowledgement perhaps, or gratitude.

The silence stretches, until it’s eventually pierced by Ohno’s quiet voice. “There’s something else. They asked you something else, didn’t they? Before it all ended.”

He’s perceptive; Sho wonders if he’s now seeing an extension of Ohno’s abilities as the Heavenly Sovereign, or if he simply knows his sibling well enough.

“They wanted to know what made you appoint me,” Sho confesses. It’s a question that long lingered in his mind as well, especially when he didn’t yet know his place in all this. “After all this time. After all the chances you gave.”

“And?” Ohno asks. “What did you say?”

Sho looks back at where the throne is, pondering. Would Ohno have accepted the position of Emperor if he knew the price he’d pay was the eventual loss of a sibling?

He shrugs. It’s not for him to answer. “I said that maybe you liked the tie I wore that day.”

He catches a sliver of amusement on Ohno’s features. “Sometimes, we do things people don’t expect us to do because it’s our way of rectifying a mistake.” Ohno glances back at the throne, and Sho has a feeling he harbors the same thoughts as Sho did earlier. “Though, I did like your tie that day. Red suits you.”

Ohno says nothing more, and Sho has nothing else to offer him. He’s given everything already, and Ohno seems to understand. Sho knows he’s not expected to comfort, that no further words are required from him.

He takes a step back and makes his obeisance.

“Dismissed,” Ohno whispers, and Sho takes his leave.

He is already past the doors when he hears Ohno speak once more.

“Sho-kun,” Ohno says this time, gentle and kind, “thank you.”

Sho nods, and the doors swing shut behind him.

--

Sho is busy proofreading the Lower Heaven’s written account of his and Jun’s mission when the news reaches him thanks to Fuma, who seems to have rushed in order to return here.

Given Sho’s increasing influence, Fuma has been promoted to Senior Attendant, and he now has a couple of Junior Attendants with him, those who painstakingly try to keep up with the records of the marriages Sho is blessing in his tenure. Record keeping has also extended to the rates of marriages in the Manifested World, something that keeps everyone in the Red-crowned Crane Pavilion preoccupied.

But not enough that Fuma misses out on any gossip, apparently.

Sho glances at him once and resumes reading. He’s on a good part too; it’s the retelling of the festival he and Jun attended.

“If one of Jun’s attendants is pestering you on how long it’d take me to drop a visit to their pavilion, tell them that perhaps, the Deity of Fertility himself would like to visit mine for a change,” he says. He’s become Jun’s most frequent guest, and while he doesn’t mind, a part of him wishes Jun would visit him instead.

Jun’s constant refusal is backed up with the reason that he doesn’t know Sho’s attendants as well as he knows Fuma, hence, he doesn’t know how trustworthy they are. It makes very little sense the more Sho tries to figure it out, and he’s long given up doing so.

Fuma flops to the space beside him, assuming the seiza hastily. “Not that, Sho-kun.” Then he backtracks, “Well, that too. I have two messages for you.”

That makes Sho lower the scroll as he eyes Fuma expectantly.

“Which one would you like to hear first?” Fuma asks.

“The one concerning my husband,” Sho says.

“I conveyed your wishes to the Deity of Fertility and he sent me back with his answer.”

Sho sighs. “Let me guess. Another no.”

Fuma makes an amused expression. “On the contrary, he requests that the Red-crowned Pavilion be devoid of your attendants during his stay.” At Sho’s eyes widening, Fuma nods. “He said there’s no need for any of us to be here while he is.”

Sho quirks an eyebrow at that. “I never send any of his attendants away whenever I go there. Why must he make you all leave?”

Fuma shrugs, but the glint in his eye doesn’t escape Sho. “He claimed it was for our sake.”

Sho snorts at that, shaking his head. “When is he arriving?”

“Promptly,” Fuma says. “He also said he’ll bring peaches.”

At that, Sho loses his composure, hiding most of his face behind the scroll. If Fuma understood Jun’s meaning, it’s a testament to his professionalism that he doesn’t laugh along with Sho.

“Very well,” Sho says when he recovers, the ghosts of his amusement still evident on his face. “Tell everyone that for the time being, at least for the duration of Jun’s stay here, work will be done in his pavilion.”

His union with Jun is recognized within the realms, and it’s not so strange for their affairs to overlap now that they’re bound to one another. Those who pray to him soon find themselves praying to Jun, and their attendants have long accepted that there will be more opportunities for them to work hand-in-hand.

Fuma nods in assent. “There’s another thing I must inform you.”

“From?” Sho asks.

Fuma’s eyes no longer meet his, and Sho clicks his tongue. “You attendants really know each other very well, if word spreads this fast among you.”

It’s no secret that the attendants in the High and Lower Heavens are the most knowledgeable in all the affairs concerning all the deities. Acting as messengers, they undoubtedly get firsthand details of any pressing matter that will require the High Heaven’s intervention.

“Well?” Sho prompts, and Fuma straightens.

“There’s a new Heavenly Sovereign in the Plain of High Heaven.”

Sho nearly drops the scroll in shock, and he leans closer as Fuma’s voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, “The Deity of Oceans and Seafaring has resigned, and the most eligible candidates have been summoned in secret to the Heavenly Spiritual Pavilion.”

“Ah,” Sho says knowingly. “You heard of this from Nino’s attendants.”

Nino is the second most influential deity in the Plain of High Heaven. He must’ve been asked to come, and of course, all of his attendants know.

Fuma makes a noncommittal hum, never betraying his sources no matter how many times Sho has caught onto him. Sho finds his loyalty commendable. “They will make the formal announcement in the next Heavenly Assembly.”

Which won’t be long, if Sho considers how everyone must already know of this. With Sho’s generous offering of sake as thanks and apology directed to Aiba Masaki, the gambling den has resumed its operations, and with the deities gathered there receiving the same news from their respective attendants, the next assembly will likely happen soon.

He gives Fuma a look. “It’s not Nino, is it?”

“The Deity of Prosperity has refused to participate despite his invitation,” Fuma tells him. “He said he already had enough work on his plate.”

“How did they decide it then?” Sho asks, but before Fuma can open his mouth, he speaks again, knowing it to be the correct answer, “Janken.”

Fuma nods, and Sho finds himself smiling. If Ohno won by janken, he’d give up the title in the same manner.

From the beginning of his rule to its end, he did everything unconventionally.

“So, who won?” he asks Fuma this time, and Fuma makes a small, somewhat pained smile.

“The new Empress of the Plain of High Heaven is the Deity of Medicine and Healing.”

Sho throws his head back in laughter then, knowing how terrified his Senior Attendant is of Yonekura. With her on the throne, he can only imagine how different things will be from here on.

“Does this give her the power to banish me should I, in the future, make another attempt that risks my station and my godhood?” he asks.

Fuma considers it. Then he settles for a simple “Perhaps.”

Yonekura will undoubtedly rule with a firmer hand than Ohno, but perhaps that’s exactly what the High Heaven needs now. Ohno’s lax and lenient methods have served their purpose and created their own problems, and while no rule is perfect, Sho understands why he stepped down.

It was the right thing to do. He probably saw it as the last thing he owed to everyone in the High Heaven despite no one actively calling him out for it. It’s admirable that he still took responsibility for his failures even though the matter has long been settled.

In his own way, Ohno has apologized for the part he played in what Sho went through. Not directly and not in the way Sho would’ve expected, but then again, it’s Ohno.

He’s always been outside of Sho’s predictions.

Sho can somehow find it in him to forgive Ohno for all of it.

“Before you go, Fuma,” he says after a moment, “I’d like for you to send word to the Deity of Oceans and Seafaring.”

Fuma’s attention is all on him, and Sho smiles.

“Tell him that whenever he’s available, Sakurai Sho would like to go fishing.”

In time, he hopes Ohno can forgive himself.

--

Sho adjusts to his new life in the Plain of High Heaven and finds it peaceful and quiet on most days.

And on some days, he finds himself utterly bored, having been exposed to a lot of action when he first got here. Now that he has fully embodied what Ohno appointed him as, he finds that while he does feel grateful for the time he now has in abundance, too much of it is making him restless.

It’s something Jun notices as well. They have the entirety of Sho’s pavilion to themselves, and Jun comments on it while Sho’s pouring tea for the both of them.

“You’re bored.”

Sho lowers the teapot and levels him with a stare, something Jun weathers with ease.

“You are. You did the same thing when we were still down there.”

A crease appears between Sho’s eyebrows. “The same thing?” he echoes.

Jun’s eyebrows only lift in assent before he mimics Sho, and only then does Sho realize that he’s been drumming his fingers rhythmically against the table’s surface.

Suddenly self-conscious, he stops, and Jun sports a triumphant smile on his handsome face.

“The life of a god bores you,” Jun says. “Sakurai Sho, consistent Employee of the Month. Heaven forbid he runs out of things to do.”

“I haven’t run out,” Sho retorts. “Ask my attendants. I’ve been hearing prayers whenever I can.”

“But even that isn’t enough for you,” Jun points out, and sometimes, Sho hates how transparent he must be to this man that it really only takes a single look for him to know. “You’ve adjusted. You now know how to manage your time, and you do it so efficiently that not a second is wasted. So this bores you: this lull in between your activities. I would be offended, except I know that your boredom isn’t attributed to me.”

“You know,” Sho begins, turning the teacup in his hold, “when we lived together in the Manifested World, I only felt like this whenever I waited for you to return home.”

At Jun’s hum, he nods. “There was the laundry. The plants I had to water. Your expensive, room temperature water that I had to pick up every now and then because it was specialized order. Socializing with the neighbors. Exchanging information on what must be the perfect appliance to address any sort of inconvenience I might be experiencing, being a rather inexperienced househusband.”

Jun laughs, his eyes crinkling at the sides. “Sho-san, if you want a brief sojourn to the Mortal Realm, just say so.” At Sho’s questioning look, he takes a sip of his tea. “Isn’t your festival approaching?”

Sho ponders and realizes that Jun is right. It slipped his mind. The absence of his attendants meant that no one is around to remind him of any affairs concerning the Manifested World.

“Normally, you will only be allowed a companion provided they also have their own business to attend to in the Manifested World,” Jun says, already knowing what he’s thinking about. As always. “Too many gods descending will upset the spiritual balance of that realm, and all that.”

“But?” Sho prompts.

“But we’re married,” Jun says simply. “Your affairs become mine, as mine become yours. On the day of my festival, you are also expected to be with me.”

Sho smiles, already finding the idea of descending once more with Jun inviting. He can barely conceal his excitement. “We’re not assuming a glamor, are we? It’s my festival they’ll be celebrating; I can be present without a disguise, right?”

“Right,” Jun affirms. “It’s the only time a god is allowed to be amongst mortals while in their divine form. You’re expected to be present in all places celebrating it, after all. You can’t do that with a disguise.”

“And none of these mortals will see us,” Sho says. It’s not a question, and he sees the moment Jun takes his meaning.

Jun looks away, the tips of his ears turning pink from uncharacteristic embarrassment. Despite being who he is and having all those phallic-shaped mikoshi paraded during his festival days, Sho occasionally manages to make him shy.

He revels in it. Jun is usually so composed, level-headed, and serious. That he can laugh and redden in embarrassment in front of Sho is something Sho cherishes.

“You’re not having these filthy ideas,” Jun says with a shake of his head, then he looks at Sho and makes an exaggerated groan. “Oh, you are. Really? Shall we do it in one of your shrines?”

Sho fights against the blush that threatens to creep up his cheeks. He meets Jun’s stare calmly, willing his voice to not falter as he says, “Why not? You can worship me right on top of one of my altars.”

He witnesses how the idea strikes Jun anew, his tongue against his cheek as he undoubtedly comes up with a multitude of ways to revere Sho. He’s particularly gifted with coming up with those, and Sho trusts that his imagination won’t fail him now.

He flashes Jun a devious smile when he knows he has him.

For all the scandalized reaction Jun makes from time to time, he’s every bit as insatiable as Sho is.

“So?” Sho asks this time, and he sees how Jun’s breathing slows, his eyes turning dark.

“Ask,” Jun says, grinning when Sho frowns. “I’m not going down there unless you ask.”

He likes making Sho work for it, and while Sho normally has no qualms to do so, it’s a different matter when they’re not in bed and preoccupied with satisfying their present need for one another.

Sho rolls his eyes, letting Jun see it. If he’s being deliberately difficult, he’s privy to Sho’s momentary annoyance with his antics. “Will the Deity of Fertility accompany me to the Manifested World and help me defile at least one of my shrines there?”

His crudeness sends Jun laughing, half of his face now hidden behind his teacup. Sho maintains a straight face while he waits for the answer, and Jun shakes his head at him.

“So straightforward,” Jun says, and he actually sounds impressed. Sho can’t decide if Jun’s bullshitting him or being serious; he has a knack for that when he’s singing Sho praises. “Ohno was right: this is such an admirable trait of Sakurai Sho.”

Sho’s response for him is a rather pointed look, something Jun smiles at.

“Since you asked so nicely, I’m not against the idea,” Jun says, finally relenting.

Sho wonders how strong his blessings would be if ever, and voices that out.

“If I bless an entire nation in one go, how long do you think it will take for all my attendants to keep up with the records?”

Jun has a finger resting on his bottom lip as he hums in fake thought, and the image is quite distracting, with him being arresting in Sho’s eyes.

When he answers, it sends Sho laughing.

“Let’s find out.”

--

The sensation Sho felt the first time he passed through the torii at the square is the same as what he feels when he crosses the threshold the second time, except the Manifested World that he arrives at is not an apartment complex and he’s not dressed in the typical mortal clothing.

He’s still in his red kimono, adorned with golden threads woven in cloud-like patterns, and the silver crane on his sleeve still spreads its wings every now and then. He finds himself in one of his temples, a place he hardly recognizes as his own at first; he’s unaccustomed to the sight of people flocking to his shrine despite knowing that his influence has considerably increased the last time he stepped foot in the Manifested World.

Knowing and seeing are two different things, and seeing mortals taking turns to ring the shrine’s bell and offer their own prayers makes him stare, at least until he starts registering what they’re praying for.

Prosperity. Harmony. Joy. In this life until death.

“You’re glowing,” Jun says, and he brushes his knuckles against Sho’s cheek as he grins. He always wears this expression when Sho has his full powers on display: proud and adoring at the same time. “Literally.”

Sho is. An aura surrounds him, divine and holy, and it's a manifestation of his abilities. He’s brimming with spiritual energy and he feels like every inch of the god that he is.

Jun turns to follow Sho’s line of sight, and he inclines his head at the number of people making their offerings. “There had been a time that the only offering you received in this realm was from me.”

It felt like a long time ago, something that belonged in another life. To Sho, it’s as if he’s lived three lives: the first and mortal one where he and Jun met but separated, the second where they found one another again, and this, where they’re both divine and he can only look forward.

Divinity lends Sho a confidence that he’s still learning to navigate around, but it’s what drives him to reach out and tip Jun’s handsome face towards his so their eyes would meet.

“I expect you to make an offering to me later,” he says before letting Jun go.

Initially, Sho thought the prayers would overwhelm him. But since he’s embraced his godhood, it’s as if he also gained an ability to listen to them without being distracted. As a deity, he’s attuned to a mortal’s plight, but their prayers are wishes he can only influence to occur upon their lives provided they do their part.

Belief can only do so much.

“There’s something I want to know,” he says, and he senses Jun’s eyes on him. “The life we lived here. The people we met. I’d like to know what happened to them.”

Jun studies him for a moment before he speaks. “I once warned you against following the thread of an old life. I know what you want to do. Promise me one thing before we search for the answer.”

It’s not a no. It's a compromise.

Sho nods, and Jun continues, “That whatever we find, you will not change the outcome of it.”

Sho’s eyes flutter shut as he ponders on Jun’s condition, at the fact that Jun knows him so well that he needs to hear this from Sho. He knows of Sho’s desires to help, his tendencies that often spur him into acting first and thinking of the consequences later.

Jun is trying to prevent that. Sho appreciates Jun’s uncanny ability to know when exactly to intervene, when to haul him back and tell him no.

They may be gods, but there are limits to what they ought to do. Just because they could doesn’t mean they should.

“I promise,” Sho says sincerely, and he feels his words bind; every vow he’s uttered has had the same effect. The moment passes, and finally: “I want to know what happened to the Hayashis.”

To Sho, those people are the unfinished business he left in this realm. It’s been some time since he and Jun left the Manifested World, and time passes differently among the realms. For all he knows, the Hayashis might be long gone, and it might have been decades since their then-crumbling marriage.

But he has to know. He failed to help those people. The very least he can do is to find out how life turned out for them in the end.

“Then let’s look for them,” Jun says, then he amends, “or rather, you look for them.” At the look Sho gives him, he nods. “Theirs was a marriage that had its flaws, on the brink of dissolution at the time, but still a binding one. All the marriages in this realm are tied to you. If you search within you, you’ll find the answer.”

Sho reaches within, in the spaces that make his divinity, at the seams that hold his godhood together and pushes his intent into it. A thread unspools and with his spiritual energy, he follows it, and before he can warn Jun, he’s already shifting the fabric creating this realm and teleporting them straight to where the thread is leading him.

They’re in another one of his shrines, somewhere outside Tokyo. Like the previous one, this temple is packed with devotees, of couples of varying ages. But one of them stands out, a woman in her early thirties, perhaps.

Sho frowns, not quite comprehending what makes this person grab his attention among the hundreds here. They stand a few paces from where he and Jun are, and soon, they’re joined by another woman who sidles up next to them as they exchange a smile.

“Isn’t that—?” Jun asks, just as it dawns on Sho.

One of the Hayashi children. The little girl who was still in elementary grade when Sho first met their family.

Decades, then. Decades have passed since.

He doesn’t have to exert effort to hear what they pray for once they ring the bell and clasp their hands together.

I ask for guidance in my marriage, that should the time come that we grow tired of one another, we can find another way.

This, Sho understands now, is his answer.

The Hayashis did end up divorcing then, and perhaps the female Hayashi ended up raising the children on her own, but here’s one of those children, still believing in marriage despite witnessing the dissolution of their parents’ own at the time.

Free will has always been mightier than any divine intervention.

Despite his predecessor’s machinations, this mortal hasn’t lost their faith.

He finds himself smiling, committing the sight of this lovely woman and their partner to memory, and bestows his first blessing for the day.

The rush of power that he channels doesn’t escape Jun’s notice, and he catches the soft expression on Jun’s face when he glances at the man.

For a while, they stand there in silence, merely observing two people amongst the multitudes, someone whose face they once knew and never paid much attention to, only for them to be the closure that Sho needs.

“They make me feel old,” Jun says after a moment, and Sho laughs.

“They do, don’t they?” he agrees. The last time he saw this person, they were having problems tying their shoelaces. “How does the glamor work once we’re no longer there, anyway? Did they even notice us gone?”

“They would’ve forgotten about us,” Jun explains. “They would’ve looked at the empty apartment and had the vaguest sense that someone used to live there, but no matter how hard they tried to recall, they could never remember those people. The glamor was designed to never impact their lives negatively.”

Once again, Sho feels thankful that out of all the deities in the Plain of High Heaven, it’s Jun he ended up being married to. Jun who always approached things so meticulously, his solutions well-thought out and borderline convoluted, his methods demanding but still efficient.

“I suppose I must thank you for creating something that worked so perfectly,” he says. It wouldn’t have sat well with him if the glamor made people wonder what happened to the Matsumotos from the eighth floor. The reality that he and Jun were a distant, forgotten memory to their neighbors is comforting.

Jun’s competence has always been one of the things Sho loves about him.

He reaches for Jun’s hand, entwining their fingers, and smiles when Jun looks at him.

“I ought to return the favor, I think,” he says, tugging Jun along to where there’s an abundance of spiritual energy thanks to the crowd celebrating this day in honor of him. “For the last time.”

“The last time?” Jun echoes, and Sho nods.

“You showed me a good time when we attended your festival,” he says. “Let’s see what mine is all about.”

Jun lets him lead the way, and having such an attractive, capable deity following him is making Sho feel giddy that he can’t help showing it.

Here they are, two gods amongst mortals, and yet no one notices them, giving an illusion of privacy. They no longer need to assimilate or hide. Here, they can simply be themselves and no one will know.

Surrounded by an overabundance of faith, the world can be theirs.

He spins on his heel and finally gives in, fisting a hand on the collar of Jun’s kimono to have him closer, and Sho angles his head to kiss Jun fully on the mouth, and he senses Jun’s smile against his lips.

If he ends up bestowing his blessing in multitudes, he thinks no one will complain save for his attendants.

--

Jun, like always, exceeds expectations.

By nightfall, when the skies are dotted with a cover of gleaming stars and the people who celebrated Sho’s festival have started to disperse and return home, Sho feels a steady, uninterrupted flow of spiritual energy in him, in waves that he’s never quite felt before.

It’s overwhelming. Not in the horrible, dizzying kind of way that he experienced whenever he had a sensory overload back when he still had his reserve sealed, but in the intoxicating manner that makes him feel invincible.

Somehow, the feeling reminds him of that night he and Jun spent in the love hotel.

Not wanting to return to the Plain of High Heaven yet, they linger around the courtyard of one of Sho’s temples, perhaps one of the grandest in this realm considering how well-maintained it is and how frequently visited. The locals have taken to attributing miracles from the shrine itself, claiming that praying to it is a guarantee to a prosperous and fruitful marriage.

It’s an exaggeration, a method to invite more tourists to this particular prefecture and to subsequently boost the economy, but it works. And with Sho’s presence here, he decides to help the locals a bit by bestowing his blessings to the majority of the people asking for it here.

They wait until the shrine employees have closed for the night, have secured the locks of each door, collected all of the offerings, and tidied up the courtyard. They wait until everyone has taken their leave, when the night is silent and there’s no one else but them.

At Sho’s behest, sometime in the night, when the entire town is sleeping peacefully and no mortals will find their way to the shrine at least until the following morning, he wills for the temple to answer to him.

The doors open and the lamps light on their own, nothing too different from the time that he and Jun made an impromptu visit to one of Jun’s shrines after that incident in Kochi. But instead of him carrying most of Jun’s weight while Jun cradled an injury he recently sustained, he’s tugging Jun inside by the wrist, shutting the doors behind them with a wave of his hand.

This place is an extension of him—a house that represents who he is. He sees how Jun takes all of that in, his eyes studying the detail of the pillars, the artifacts lining the path to the altar, the golden carvings on the walls.

Sho watches him inspect his surroundings with a keen eye, thumbing at the corners of the altar to inspect how thoroughly the shrine employees wipe the surface of it. It makes Sho roll his eyes but he does it out of fondness; only Jun would do such things.

Then, his eyes narrow when he catches Jun’s fingers wrapping around the thick rope that’s attached to the shrine bell.

They exchange a look—Sho unimpressed, Jun with his cheek.

“Don’t,” Sho says. He doesn’t see the point of Jun pulling it anyway, not when all his devotees have already left save for one.

“Why not?” Jun asks. “You pulled on one of mine when you wanted my attention.”

Sho crosses the distance between them, hooking his index finger in Jun’s obi to have him flush against him. “If you want my attention, you have to earn it.”

A tongue darts out between Jun’s lips, its path something Sho follows with his eyes. The air shifts between them—charged and taut, the tension building like a plucked bowstring.

The lamps lend this orange glow that highlights the strong features of Jun’s face, and with this kind of illumination, the way his eyes darken is something Sho personally witnesses.

“You did say that mortal or not, you would’ve worshiped me,” Sho says, pitching his voice lower. He whispers the next words against Jun’s ear, bottom lip brushing against the shell of it. “Show me then, what it would’ve been like.”

He gasps when Jun tugs on the rope—an overloud, ringing sound echoing in his ears and causing the hair on the back of his nape to stand. He jolts as his focus shifts, but suddenly Jun is on him, hands reaching for his face, and the rest of Sho’s gasp is lost against Jun’s hot mouth.

He lets Jun back him against his altar, his hip colliding with its edge and making him hiss. Jun takes that noise as well, teeth nipping on Sho’s bottom lip, worrying the soft skin before giving it an apologetic lick. He kisses Sho like he’s been waiting to do it all day, like he hasn’t done in a while despite all the time they found for themselves while they were in the High Heaven.

Sho doesn’t mind. He likes the feeling of being wanted—needed. He likes seeing Jun greedy for it, loves Jun’s momentary aggression that will be replaced by a familiar gentleness, the ferocity going hand-in-hand with tenderness.

Jun’s passion has always been multifaceted, and while he can be a source of frustration for Sho at times, in all the moments they had like this, Jun remains a giving lover.

Perhaps it comes with his abilities. Sho doesn’t know; he hasn’t met any other fertility gods out there, let alone slept with them. Or maybe Jun is simply so attuned to his needs and knows exactly when to give and to take, to shape Sho’s desire into something that makes Sho feel boundless.

Jun has him spread on top of the altar like a feast, his kimono long opened as Jun marks every inch of the skin exposed to him, lips pressing hymns against Sho’s ribs.

It’s this form of worship that makes Sho feel most alive. No matter what the mortals offer to him—prayers, devotion, belief, even money—it’s always what Jun has for him that he’s looking forward to the most, the one he’ll sample and have for himself.

Even gods are slaves to selfishness. They’re not perfect.

He rewards Jun with a gasp, a hitched groan that echoes in the otherwise empty temple. Yielding has never felt so welcoming, so tempting when it’s like this, and Sho’s thoughts return to that night, the first time he and Jun found one another.

“You have my favor,” he breathes, spine curving as Jun’s teasing doesn’t cease.

Jun’s response is a soft kiss against Sho’s heart, and Sho melts under his touch. The way he’s being handled—gently, carefully—anymore of it and he’ll feel as if he’s floating and on a different plane of existence.

Jun takes him to heights he can never reach on his own, coaxes so much affection from him that he’s not even aware he’s capable of giving, and returns it twofold. With each touch, each kiss, each puff of breath against his skin, Sho feels loved.

Whole.

“I adore you,” Jun admits when they finally collide, when Sho’s seeing white at the edges of his vision with each frenzied movement, when he’s clinging to the altar’s edge and on Jun’s shoulder at the same time, their breaths mingling as the heat builds. “I always have.”

Jun always makes him feel like a god, his entire being endless. Infinite.

Stars explode under his eyelids and he lets go, and with it, comes a surge of raw, unrestrained power that rushes forth and blankets the surroundings and further beyond, a blatant display of divine might.

And with it, thousands of prayers are answered.

--

In the Manifested World, it is believed that the Plain of High Heaven is a realm dedicated to the most supreme and divine. It’s a place made by gods and inhabited by gods as old as the laws that shaped all the realms.

But despite their encompassing power and influence, the gods are like mortals too, having their own preferences and whims, their own customs. It’s not something for mortals to understand, only a choice laid before them, an exercise of their free will.

They may believe it or not.

For those who do, however, it’s a custom to pay respects to a god depending on your current plight. A difficult, life-changing entrance examination may be passed with flying colors after offering a prayer to the Deity of Good Fortune. A business might become a hit after offering a spare change to the Deity of Prosperity.

An accident may be averted by a quick visit to one of the shrines dedicated to the Deity of Medicine and Healing. Harvests may be bountiful for the rest of the year after praying to the Deity of Agriculture.

Marriages might result in a harmonious, loving union for the rest of one’s mortal days after uttering a sincere, heartfelt prayer to the Deity of Matrimony. But there’s also a strange belief surrounding this particular god: there are those who say that he’s more likely to perform miracles if one also visits the temple of the Deity of Fertility.

No one knows the truth of it.

--

In the Plain of High Heaven, at the courtyard of the Red-crowned Crane Pavilion, the once tiny seedling on the side of the stone steps has long evolved into a flower undergrowth.

A gust blows, disturbing the tranquility, sending the fragrance of the lilies permeating in the air and some of the ink pots toppling over, staining the scrolls that lay before them.

Noises of frustration erupt in the pavilion, and one attendant simply eyes a list that suddenly erupts with names, too fast for him to keep up with as the characters start to blur over one another, filling the entirety of the scroll before starting on another.

Then another.

And another.

He spares a single thought of sympathy for himself and his colleagues before he resigns himself to the upcoming work and waits for the list to finish updating itself.

--

In the Manifested World, most of the beliefs have been passed down from generation to generation, through old records and word of mouth by elders who know better.

In the end, whether or not the Deity of Matrimony’s favor is swayed by a subsequent visit to the shrine of another, it’s not for mortals to understand.

But it’s also said that in the Plain of High Heaven, these two deities alone share a union quite unlike what the realms have seen. That the world before, the one after, and even the one beyond has tested their bond and found it true, unbreakable by even the foundations that molded all three realms together.

Whether that is to be believed is up to the listener. A local legend might be a once-accurate retelling of a true event, lost to time and half-forgotten. What mortals hear can be the truth or a fabricated lie, embellished to suit the storyteller’s purposes. A little prayer might go a long way. A simple wish today might turn into something pleasantly unexpected in the far future. And if gods had something to do with that, perhaps it’s them being kind.

Or, as others believe, being particularly happy and generous on that occasion.

Whatever the case may be, it’s not for mortals to understand.

To whom they put their faith is up to them.

Gods don’t dictate; they merely listen.

And if they feel like it, a miracle can happen.

Comments

[lightsandcards]

The 100k word count was a bit intimidating especially since I don't read a lot but I was quite hooked! I didn't expect to finish it so soon!

The concept for the High Heavens and the Netherworld were really cool! The pavilions in the High Heavens being directly affected by the Mortal Realm and the Netherworld being a decayed version of the Mortal Realm to make it easier for the soul to become unfamiliar and forget.

The scene where they were in the apartment in the Netherworld was so sad. Sho kept trying and even thought of staying if it meant being together with Jun. T______T

The scene between the dieties after Sho got to know about the Hayashi's divorce is so beautiful and is absolutely my favorite part of the story. The comfort and emotional support was sooooo good. Jun helping Sho feel and ground himself to not let the thoughts get to him!!! T________T

I was also very touched by Jun's prayer ;___; "To the Deity of Matrimony, if he hears me: may he cease doubting himself." SO GOOD. It's probably also because I am doubting myself a lot so this was such a good one. And Sho being reminded of it in the scene after the Hayashi's divorce? SO GOOD.

Also, Nino keeping the back problems to not let the godhood get to him!! With that much power it really is best to have something to look back at.

I also really like the part where Sho threatened to put Jun's water bottles in the fridge LMAO

Also, the sex scenes focusing on worshipping each other!! Very on theme! “Pray to me, then” SUCH A GOOD LINE

And Jun getting Sho excited about being watched, “The High Heaven ought to see you like this.” JUST!!

And the kimino staying on!!!

Overall, this was lovely and you did a really great job on this story!! Thank you so much for writing it!

[64907]

Thanks so much friend; this comment truly means a lot to me, in some ways that you already know. :) Thank you for your support throughout the writing process and for listening to me rant LMAO. An important part of this fic wouldn't have existed without your help so truly, thank you. :D

[learashi]

Breathtakingly compelling read.
This is a story which I will revisit again, and again.

[64907]

Ahhhh thank you for reading something this long and commenting! I'm truly honored! :D

[pompomshoes]

Dear writer, I am glad I saved this for a day I had free time because the moment I started reading I just couldn't stop!
Let me start by saying that your writing is beautiful <3 It really shone during the emotional scenes.
The setting was great! You did an amazing job picking what each Arashi member would be a deity of. LOVED the bit about Ohno becoming the Emperor because of janken omg!!! There are so many references scattered in the story and I greatly enjoyed finding them!
Another thing I loved: Fuma working for Sho and loving gossip. It was hilarious!
As I said before, the plot got me so hooked that I couldn't stop reading until the end. I'd been wanting to read something like this for a long time, and you absolutely surpassed anything I could have imagined. Loved the theme of Sho coming to terms with being a deity and the moral questions that come with it, while trying to catch someone who provides an example of what he shouldn't become. His relationship with Jun progressed at a very good pace. The sex scenes had the perfect balance between sexy and emotional. The fact that Sho was Jun's senpai when Jun was alive aaaaaahhhh!!! I think that was a very good detail to include.

If the worst should happen, Sho thinks he won’t mind staying here for good. There’s no place for him in the High Heaven while Jun is here. He’ll never leave this place without Jun, and if he cannot bring Jun back with him, then…
^When I got to this part, I was almost in tears. And then I got to this other line...
“I would always choose the Netherworld that has you in it rather than the High Heaven without you.”
TTwTT Amazing, just amazing!!!!!

I'm sure I'll reread this many times in the future. Thanks a lot <3

[64907]

I actually have to apologize, I think, for making you read something this long. When I was emailing questions over to you via the mods, I really didn't imagine it'd take me these many words. But anyway; you have no idea how relieved I am that you liked it. :D I was a little wary of tossing in too many references (because I always have this worry that might throw off some people while they're reading) so I'm thrilled that that didn't happen for you and that you enjoyed spotting them. :)

Thank you for being a wonderful recipient! I won't lie, I was actually a bit surprised that you were pretty chill with everything even if I mentioned character deaths. It greatly helped that you were open to pretty much everything that was in this; I was able to include most of what was in my outline.

[astrangestorm]

I spent all of today (and I mean ALL OF TODAY) reading this, and it's just so good! I watched the animated version of Heaven Official's Blessing, so I was able to envision High Heaven and the other realms very easily. I cannot believe you managed to combine that + fake marriage + "we both loved each other and never said anything and then we died" + the Sakurai marriage shrine all in one story. This is such an incredible achievement and their relationship in every single realm was so moving. And when Jun had the bell in the Netherworld I was all "I can't believe this story also included Sho's uniform button" because what is that bell if not this alternate universe's version of Sho's stupid button? LOL

Anyhow! I loved the rich descriptions of every realm, the choices of divinity for each of our characters. Ohno the reluctant leader of them all with the swimming goldfish on his robes, the different ways Aiba and Nino's powers could manifest and the ways they supported Sho and Jun, and of course the sexy deity of healing Doctor X herself. Jun as the god of all the dicks, yup, that tracks. And of course I loved Fuma supporting Sho and also having history with Nino's pavilion, I thought that was too perfect.

I like the time and care you took to develop each section of this, the overwhelming feelings Sho had as a new god, their arrival together in the mortal realm and the slice-of-life goodness that came with it. The reveal that they actually knew each other and it didn't work out due to misunderstandings, making their reunion and realization and love story all the more powerful. I love Sho being willing to throw everything away and stay with Jun in the Netherworld because living without him would be so much worse.

Loved the descriptions of their powers, how Sho's slowly grew stronger, the fact that Jun is pretty much the key to Sho's power. I expected no less, but it was still so good to read. And I definitely CACKLED at Jun getting Sho off being the trigger for his blessings to shoot out here, there, and everywhere. That also tracks.

This was just so fantastic, I don't know how else to say it. Great work, thank you for this.

[64907]

Oh I'm glad someone has caught where the inspo was from; I didn't mention it because I didn't want people to think they have to know it to understand. Anyway, yeah LMAO in my notes this was named "TGCF-ish AU". :D

I def tried to combine a lot of things in this once I realized I could. I figured I should just overachieve while I'm at it. It resulted to something so long it actually takes away at least a day to finish and I'm sorry for that.

Thanks for catching the Doctor X ref; I thought Yonekura Ryoko didn't make so many seasons of that drama just for me to choose somebody else. :D

Thank you lots for reading! I'm happy that my deity choices are agreeable; for a moment I was worried they wouldn't be. :)

[zekkouchou]

I spent my weekend and even canceled my outing agenda just to finish this fic and to be very honest, I didnt regret it. Actually i lost for word right now :')

love every detail, description, the setting, the characterization everything. you make the theme of true love in 3 phase of life on another level. this was beyond beautiful TvT

Thank you for writing this! Otsukaresamadeshita! <3

[64907]

Ohhhh I hope this didn't take you away from anything important. I feel kind of guilty that I turned in something so long that it really takes some time to be finished.

Thank you for reading and for cancelling your plans! I'm simultaneously honored and sorry that this story led to such things. But I'm really glad that you found this to be worth it; thank you so much. :)