Rise Read Online Free Page B

“We should ask Ameno and Kunitoko what to do.”
    Izanagi laughed once. “They care no longer. They are idle on their bridge, fishing sometimes for gems in the sky. They don’t care what our painting is anymore.”
    “What will we do?” Izanami said. The tears fell down her cheeks, dripping into the sand where they muddied against her fingertips.
    “It is what we have done,” Izanagi said, and his tone was cold, colder than she’d ever felt from him before. He drained her of the warmth she’d felt, the warmth she’d thought was lodged permanently around her heart. “It’s what
you
have done.”
    The words stung; her tears froze.
    “You have led us into shadow,” he said. “You should never have spoken first and claimed me as another of your pets.”
    “Pets?” Izanami could barely form the word. It felt as though the naginata’s blade had pierced her heart. How could he speak such words, like razor-sharp cuts to her soul? “You are not a pet to me. You are my companion.”
    “We will walk around the pillar again,” Izanagi said, his cold eyes falling upon her. “I will speak first and claim you. You will be silent. And then all will be as it should.”
    A new warmth spread in Izanami’s chest, unlike what was there before. It was hotter than the love she’d felt, darker red than the blood spilled by Awashima on her skin. Bitterness and anger scorched her insides, the flames licking her ribs with agonizing pain. This was not equal sides holding hands. This was imbalance, the world tilting before her. Surely this wasn’t the kind of warmth she had craved.
    Izanagi’s eyes softened, and he took her hands. “It’s only for the best,” he said. “You are everything to me.”
    “And you to me,” she said, but she could no longer feel the rawness inside of her of that first warmth. All she could see was his pride, his arrogance.
    Izanagi rose to his feet and helped her to hers. “You’ll see,” he said quietly. “When I lead, all will be well. I was firstborn.”
    Izanami said nothing, but stepped into the darkness of the pagoda, where the baby girl hissed at the monstrous form of her brother. The brother began to sing to her, oblivious to her hatred. He was only a child himself, barely three years old, but his voice was lulling and gentle. When he sang at the waters’ edge, fish would leap out of the ink and onto the beach, and Izanami would frantically push them back in. She didn’t know what would happen if they lay out in the sun, but she felt the panic at the unknown, the fear of a shadow she hadn’t fully understood.
    Awashima quieted at the singing, too. Her eyelids drooped heavily, the horns in her hair tapping gently against the side of the basket. She didn’t seem so dangerous now, not with her brother to quiet her. Together, they might survive.
    Hiruko tried to climb into the basket to be beside her, but his flesh gave way and he collapsed backward, rocking on the stone floor. Izanami stepped quietly toward him, lifting him upward and into the woven basket. He smiled up at her, his teeth sticking from every angle in his mouth.
    “It is better for you to be away from Izanagi,” she said quietly, ruffling Awashima’s hair as she slept. “He sees you only as devils. You are
youkai
, yes. But there is room in this world for you. Hiruko, mind your sister. Don’t let her rip the world to shreds with her talons.” Izanami could feel her own world ripping to shreds as the fire burned in the pit of her stomach. She was more dangerous now than Awashima. She knew that. She had to get both of them away from this place, before it started. What, she couldn’t say. But a shadow thick as night was spreading from her wounds, pooling in midnight darkness around her.
    The
kitsune
looked up from its quiet doze on the windowsill, its golden tails draped over the side of the ledge. It gave a gentle bark, but Izanami did not answer. She pulled the basket up to her chest and stepped out the door.