The banished moon god had returned to his bedchamber after bathing away the fresh filth of Ryu; standing in front of his open wardrobe, Tsukiyomi finishes the final bow on a right-sided, mint green slit above his knee.
Poised in matching straight leg, peach cotton pants, socks, and tucked shirt with wrist length bell sleeves, a silky sleeveless green, ankle length, overhead garment hangs on top.
Sporting a high collar, shimmering, dark blue brush strokes paint every edge of airy yet crisp fabric; woven to depict a majestic crane in flight, the front and back flaps make an otherwise plain outfit more striking.
Open slits from under his armpits end at his ankles, allowing free movement of his arms and legs. Tied in only three places on both sides, navy and silver corded bows rest in line with his nipples, navel, and hips.
Slicking all stray hairs against his scalp and binding his streaked mane into a sleek ponytail, the tri-colored rope of navy, mint green, and peach secure healthy tresses with an ornate knot-- all without the use of a mirror.
Nodding at the lifeless wardrobe filled with a gorgeous array of outfits from around the world, he turns sharply to briskly exit his bedchamber. Marching coolly down the royal hall in the direction of gargantuan double, dragon's head doors, he veers towards the second to last door on the right.
Entering as the door opens for him, a tiny gust swoops in behind him as it shuts. Stopping a short distance from the door, platinum blue eyes scan the room. Broken and misplaced items have been left in disarray from Ryu's earlier tantrum, reminding Tsukiyomi of his torturously temporary freedom in waking life-- yet again.
Commanding, "Order," he pans the round room to witness shattered clay and stone repair itself before joining scattered literature on a retreat to its last location; an ever so slight tilt falls upon his head at the unanticipated, soft glow in the corner of his right eye.
On approach to his work table to better investigate, the room finishes tidying itself up. Recognizing its familiar light from afar, his feet move closer to a rolled up scroll. Illuminating gold, it was the cryptic note left behind from his father's messenger.
Reaching to touch it as he kneels closer, Tsukiyomi pauses just before his flawless skin delicately makes contact with the luminary material using only the pinky of his left hand. Poking lightly with the very tip-- nothing happens. With two more careful nudges, each one slightly longer than the last (using his ring finger alongside it for extra measure), he receives no negative feedback.
Grasping the scroll firmly in hand with a shallow breath, he raises it from the floor closer to his face. The banished god plagued by a currently sleeping evil remains entirely unharmed.
Exhaling slowly with closing eyes until his breath goes silent, porcelain lids suddenly shoot open with an intent gaze-- and dollish cerulean lashes. Ready to drink in all to behold, Tsukiyomi unrolls the papyrus-like letter dramatically slowly.
Held open within long fingers, platinum blue eyes watch luminescent parchment come to life as red and black symbols displaying the divine word vibrate apart to move around on the page. Eyeing the spectacle closely, calligraphy brushed lines finally stop moving to portray a black-branched plum blossom tree with red-streaked petals.
Izanagi-no-Mikoto's transmission falls from pearlescent, human hands before landing gently onto the table's glossy surface.
Taking a step back, he fixates on the sturdy material with a soft, textured give as it languidly curls inward from its two longest ends; silently watching petals fall away from brush stroke branches, they quickly return to the drawn word of He Who Invites. The scroll's rolled ends meet in the middle as it comes to a close and its light remains intact.
Tsukiyomi's cool exterior of detachedness holds true, his face revealing no outward hint or shadow of his thoughts.
Turning sharply on the forest green, marble floors, he glides across reflective stone like an elegantly robed statue of the finest ivory glazed in pearl dust; a committed gait leads him to the front entry aisle of the library.
Walking between two, even-heighted serpentine pillars topped with glowing, pink crescent moonstones that face opposite directions just above his head, he moves as swift and smooth as a floating spirit wandering through a galaxy-like space. Housing bookshelves as far around as the eye can see, aisles that he passes visibly goes back in time.
Compared to the constructions at the front, the deeper into the library he goes, the more aged everything is. Beyond the lunar centerpiece continues the symmetrical stretch of bookcases twice Tsukiyomi's height made of differently aged wood, metal, and stone.
Storing unbound books, stacks of paper, plant and animal skins, a multitude of scrolls, the great lord's collection even holds stone tablets of many variations. Countless shelves filled with priceless artifacts and texts from the oldest of human times remain organized in the vicinity of tools and furniture from the same eras.
Passing under the enchanting, whitish-blue moonstone sphere overhead, focused strides carry him down the center aisle. The end of his abnormally lengthy path that seemingly stretches through recorded time and space brings him to the only bookcase of its kind. Following the rounded curve of the far back, left-hand wall of his study (carved into the mountain stone itself) stands a six shelf bookcase.
Filled entirely of boxes and chests from many cultures and past eras, his eyes land on the bottom shelf; rough, metallic gray stone wide enough for a tall person to comfortably lay across is occupied by three metal boxes.
Tsukiyomi's focus stays on the ancient box of entirely oxidized copper. Squatting to retrieve the rectangular green chest, he sets it on an infinitely black floor that reflects the bright, orbed constellation of Tanabata and Kengyu (Vega & Altair respectively) from above.
Removing a metal-hammered, rounded lid, he gently places it beside him, obscuring a seamless reflection of the richest pink in Amanogawa (Heavenly River/Milky Way).
Keeping his sight on the contents inside, the abandoned piece of green metal rocks quietly against the still, dark sea before settling down.
On the very top, covering the treasures inside, is a bundle of woven red, gold, and white silk with images of children playing. Gathering the thin, bright fabric into his hands, he neatly lays the folded scarf into the chest's knuckle-deep lid for safe keeping.
Ivory hands return to pick up the shoulder wide, humerus long, and elbow deep container. Standing with the rough chest nestled in his muscular, right armed grasp, he cradles it against his right side. Using his left hand to sift through multiple, fabric-wrapped items, he nudges glittering, intricate fabrics of every color apart to dig deeper.
Discovering snowy white silk bound by a golden cord, he stops his search to set the box down at his feet.
Reaching inside, he carefully lifts the wrapped item in both of his hands; staring at a round bundle that slightly overfills the span of both his hands when placed side by side, he examines it.
Nodding once, he stands with it like a platter parallel to the floor. Turning it, he hugs the flat bundle. Encompassing it against his heart like a rare and precious find, his confident step remains steady; growing closer to the regal desk following the path he came, he soon leaves the magical library entrance.
Stepping onto the forest green marble floor of his study's foyer, he eventually stands in front of his chair at the center edge of his table.
Setting the bound treasure on glossy wood while taking a seat as his chair scoots in under him, with only his thumb and index finger, the banished moon god tugs at one strand of the bundle's coarse tie and it unbinds the strong, thin rope. Peeling back layers of satiny fabric, the final piece reveals a white-copper mirror that shines excessively bright under the glowing orbs' light.
Taking his time to lay out the entire square of fabric and flatten out all wrinkles, he sits up straight in his chair upon completion; the flawless artifact shines so white that the overhead darkness is not reflected in its pure beauty.
Tsukiyomi holds a hand out over the mirror and its light makes his pearlescent skin glow a soft, bluish white.
The luminary scroll flies from the other side of the table to land in his grasp.
Without a moment's notice, he tears the holy paper in half.
Placing one half of the glowing scroll off to the right of his focus, it rolls in on itself against the table. Setting the other half on the mirror's pristine surface, the entire disc lights up; glowing an ethereal gold that turns his hair and eyes into a honey-blonde and citrine blaze.
Covering the scroll and mirror with slightly cupped hands, shielding his face from the light, he closes his eyes.
The mirror vibrates.
Rumbling against the table before laying still, a brilliant silver-blue light bursts through the tiny openings between and around his overlapping fingers. Temporarily turning his pearlescent visage monochromatic blue and diamond, the orbs overhead brighten and hum. Molecules in the air become hyperactive as an unearthly wind stirs into a gentle swirl around him.
Paying his rustling sleeves and hair no mind, the statuesque lord remains motionless amidst a progressing storm of shifting energies reflecting light; vibrating the air into a fulfilling hum, a final cry of booming horns peak to fill the room from an unseen orchestra until the mirror's otherworldly light fades away.
When the normal magnetic vibration and light of the room's current space in time returns, blue steel eyes peacefully open.
Staring at the backs of ivory, mortal hands, they slowly separate.
Uncovering a round, platinum wrist cuff, Tsukiyomi unflinchingly inspects every surface of his creation as it lays bare before him. Blinking once, he delicately moves to take a hold of it in his fingertips.
Scrutinizing the unblemished metal as it reflects indoor light with a sheen of the finest, worldly luminescent white, he eventually nods at the item.
Laying the simple piece of jewelry down on his table, he rewraps the mirror with the very same care he dedicated to unwrapping it.
Collecting the scroll's other half, he tucks it within the folds of white silk before re-tying the golden cord into a tight bow. Driven to return the mirror from where he got it, he carefully secures the lid to the chest then puts it back on the bottom shelf.
Heading back to the table, upon his return, Tsukiyomi picks up the bracelet. Giving it a final once over, he lifts the top garment flap of his outfit in his free hand; trapping the bottom hem of now upward folded fabric between his chin and chest, diligent fingers untuck the slack of his pants' belt.
Freeing both hands with the strategically resourceful move, he winds one of the two strips of flat, belt fabric around it; knotting the cotton in place so it cannot unravel, he tucks the bracelet in his pants behind the belt's tightest band. Resting comfortably against the part of his shirt covering the lower V of a defined abdomen, Tsukiyomi straightens his spine into its usual stately poise and the flap of his outer garment falls into place past his knees.
Patting the hiding place once with a nod, he returns to the familiar comfort of his chair.
*****
I'm letting my guard down too much. He's not alright in the head. . . .but. . .to be fair. . . I feel as batty as grandma sounded.
Umeko laughs at herself inside her head before splitting the bundle of flowers between her teeth and her left hand.
At least he's trying to figure it out. If Tsukiyomi trusts him alone with me, then I trust him, too.
Hiking up her skirt with a stem-filled hand, she takes a firm hold of his mane in her empty, right hand to hoist herself up onto the steed's back.
After a mighty struggle and muffled cuss words, she gets situated in a straddle against the back of his neck with her skirt bunched up to her waist. Umeko spits the now drool-dampened bundle of flowers into her empty, right hand as the left remains filled with the other half of their brethren.
Wiping the corners of her mouth dry with the back of her hand, she cringes.
Remembering she's wearing lipstick, Umeko clumsily wipes around the edges of her lips with a knuckle in hopes of unsmearing any damage already done.
Leaning her chest into Sanemaru's curly, fiery mane to speak closer to his ear, "Sorry," panic fills her voice, "Was I too rough?"
Sitting upright and grinding into the back of his neck until she can get comfortable against his hot, rigid body, "I pulled your hair a lot harder than I meant to."
His large, Equus head shakes with a whining neigh that resonates as a boisterous laugh; realizing how close she is to the back of his head when his nose points to the sky, she leans back to keep her face from making contact.
Phew, he's fine. Great! Because I'm going to rip out all his hair. I only rode a horse once and it was NOT fun.
Gripping his hair with overfilled palms and clamped down fingers, the heat from his body rises up through her inner thighs and core. Striking warmth in the apple of her cheeks, Is it nasty to like him even a little when this is his true self? . . .it's not like I'm into this side. He's just the coolest horse ever!
Gushing with a big smile, she watches the way her fingers disappear through mohawked, fluffy locks while breathing in his spicy musk.
He smells better than any horse, too!
Keeping a firm grasp on the flower stems and his fiery mane to brace him taking off, she's pleasantly surprised when Sanemaru starts to hover from the ground. Realizing they're moving straight up, Umeko's excitement BOOMS around them in a startling echo, "You can FLY?!"
Nearby birds screech into a hurried flight at the commotion and Sanemaru neighingly huffs with a nod.
Leaning over the edge of his body, the ground shrinks with blue and green flames sparking around his long legs, "I can't believe I'm riding a flying fire-horse!"
Rising high above the tree line at a gentle incline, she scans for kilometers (miles); drinking in the breathtaking, never-before-possible but often imagined sight, she frowns when her surroundings begin to blur from his hastening speed.
Pulling herself closer to his ear, shouting against wind that stuffs her mouth on his forward, launching path, "Can you go slow? I wanna see it all!"
For the first time in her life, she finds the clouds of the sky finally in her reach. Grazing her face with the faintest of cool mists, she squeals, "Birds! Birds are right there!"
Pointing excitedly, almost dropping some flowers, she frantically grabs a tighter hold of Sanemaru's hair and wraps her legs around him.
Bouncing against his sweltering, muscular back, "Flying RIGHT next to me!"
They squawk and fly away.
Knees trembling as her thighs clutch him, "Why would you ever walk when you can fly?!"
Exploring this new sight of the world around her as she reaches heights she's only ever dreamed of, Umeko simmers down. Staring too long at the ground below as everything that stands large is beheld through her eyes as miniature versions, a hint of dizziness strikes.
The remainder of her short ride is peaceful and quiet until the familiar edge of Kinshi Forest that faces Sankan no Machi comes into view.
Trapped in an insidious prison created by her anxiety and fear, the distant and impossibly unfamiliar sight wrenches Umeko's heart. Shutting her eyes tight, she grasps onto every happy memory in reach until her mind is poisoned by the uninvited glimpses of charred remains.
Umeko suddenly closes her eyes.
Trying to think of all her happiest memories before the uninvited glimpse of charred remains can permanently burn itself into her mind, childhood joys are presently incinerated by nothing but trauma.
Breathing deep to clear her mind of all things, she finds comfort in the darkness behind her lids as her ears whistle from rustling wind.
Sanemaru descends until flaming hooves produce a CRUNCHING thud under his weight in the rocky soiled path. Feeling the world around her calm as the wind becomes a tender blow, she slowly opens her eyes to see where they are.
Carelessly sliding from his body with the flowers and her dress in both hands, Umeko demands her body and mind go numb so she doesn't cry.
Knowing the current state of her former home is drastically different from fonder memories, she keeps her back turned to the village since the tree line is a nicer sight, "Thank you so much, Sane."
Stumbling dangerously close into twisting an ankle when her sandaled feet CRASHES into rocky grass because she wasn't looking where she was landing, "You're the best!"
Languidly stretching out her legs, Umeko keeps her face to the forest as a sense of dread creeps its way into her throat.
Her airway dries and constricts while her heart picks up speed, nearly suffocating her at the mere thought of turning around.
I'm not ready. . . I don't know how I thought I was. I'll never be ready to accept this!
Fixating suddenly on the horse demon when he trots alongside her, she instinctively pets Sanemaru's cheek and neck in long strokes. The joyous energy surrounding him becomes contagious, bringing a smile to her face when he huffs.
Dancing in place with his head tilting repeatedly left and right in a playful bounce, Sanemaru's braided tail sways behind him like a pendulum.
I think he's enjoying this too much.
Sighing with a smile that slowly shrinks, she rests her hand at her side with a strained giggle.
It's better to think about him than mom's last breaths. . . And that I didn't get to tell dad I was the one that broke his favorite knife. Or tell Kyo I wasn't really that mad at him for ripping the hair out of the doll Nobu made me.
The handsome steed bows his head and Umeko takes a few steps back.
Disappearing into a cloud of black smoke, an enormous burst of green and blue flames roar around him.
Sanemaru's humanoid form emerges fully dressed in his shimmering, charcoal gray, wrap-tie shirt hanging over matching trousers and bare feet.
"Can all demons pass as human?"