The simple copper coin, glinting in the palm of your hand, was worth little to nothing in terms of face value. Gods of greater stature and reputation received piles and mounts of currency that would tip the scales in comparison to this measly thing.
Yet, your master asked for nothing else.
The delivery god Yato with eyes brighter than the clearest of skies took the smallest of wishes to chores that left him barely standing. You lost count at the amount of times he summoned you and Yukine to take down phantoms plaguing those of this world, refusing to remain in theirs. You swore that the odor of his clammy hands still lingered and even seeped into your skin as well as the imprints of his hands, squeezing and tightening about you in the heat of battle. You slept under the rooftops of shrines, dormant and cold. You ate only from those who offered or through what little you earned.
Yet, he still requir
The fingers of the trees splay across the muted light.
Frozen wind. Mist stinging your skin like millions of needles.
Your mouth gaped, begging, choking for even the slightest bit of air. Your throat raw, your lungs striving for what little air it could obtain, numb fingers clawed and tugged and crisp blades of grass as you fought for an escape.
Soft whispers echoing through the forest...
They called for you.
They whispered your name.
They crawled into the sensitive passages of your mind.
The frosted grass crumbled beneath his feet as he approached you, eyes colder than the ice beneath him, face devoid of all expression.
His blade glistened in the subdued light of the shrouded sun.
Crimson splatters dripped down his face as tears.
But, nothing stirred within him.
He simply watched your broken form, struggling, striving, fighting for an escape.
All you longed for was
Soft, the onyx wefts were as you ran your fingers down, a gentle warmth bubbling within your chilled form. Gentle flakes of white continuously danced through the cloudy night. A shared jacket loosely hangs from your delicate shoulders, an arm draped beneath the thin jersey, adding a small layer of protection from the winter frost. His familiar, sweet aroma filled your reddened nose, a quiet vibration resonated through your thighs.
An onyx ball of fur with the same icy blue hues as the God huddled to your smaller form.
You had found the abandoned young one excavating through compost filled bins, scouring for even the little specks of discarded leftovers. A small sliver of tuna was enough to bring the thinning kitten to your side, his uncertain trust of you slowly f
TRIGGER WARNING: SUICIDE. Please proceed with caution!
The bottle by the bed is running empty. The sounds of cars screaming by and the inebriated cat calls from the youths outside your bedroom window are distant, muted, as if they are a whole other world away. Neon light filters through the blinds and the way it paints the wall in red makes the room look like the scene of a grisly homicide.
You can hear the whispers, they echo in your head. Lonely, so lonely… better off alone… nobody wants you… nobody loves you… die… you should die… take the razor… you know you want to…
With trembling hands, you reach for the bottle only to find it empty and with a grimace you hurl it against the wall. It explodes into millions of tiny pieces; tiny shards that for a moment look like falling stars. They scatter in the carpet and you curl your bare toes away from their razor edges. They glint darkly in th
He was alone.
All he had left was Yukine. But Yukine was just a child; a child that would never reach adulthood, in all eternity.
No one believed in him. No one remembered him. He would remain alone. Forever.
Without followers, oblivion was drawing inescapably closer by the day. His whole reality was losing its meaning. He was a god of calamity in an era of peace.
And then the sound of metal clinking against wood. A single wish. Someone called his name. Someone still believed in him. Someone still remembered him. With a single prayer, a single offering, he was pulled out of the dark waters of River Styx that claimed his whole existence.
He had almost given up. He had almost surrendered to the void.
Yet, that single 5-yen coin pulled him out. Saved him.
And so, years passed. And she was always there. Always calling his name. Always offering her 5-yen coin to his glory, for his blessing.
And he became attached to her. He couldn't help it. She wasn't a simple follower anymor
'...Beautiful evening for a hike, yeah, Runie?'
'Heheh, yeah. It's a lovely evening, Sarah.'
National parks...or national forests, or national monuments, or whatever you wanna call them. The best way to access natural beauty, or the best way to kill yourself or disappear if you're David Paulides...but never mind him. Going in during the evening, especially during sunset, is one of the most romantic things a couple can do. Paul Lunaoro, or as he prefered to be called, Paul Runestone, knew this well. He'd taken his beloved, Sarah Caruaru, for a lovely walk along the side of a canyon. The two weren't engaged yet, but that was mainly because Runestone had a bit of self-doubt. He knew she'd accept, he just didn't want to do it yet. Sarah knew that this was who she'd marry, but was really just waiting. In fact, she was about to propose herself if he didn't. What was wrong with a girl proposing, after all?