I Will Not Resist

A familiar sensation wound about her feet—a familiarity that not even the expensive designer shoes a dear friend had bought her could hide.

It feels as though I've come back after years.

Set against the span of the life she had lived, the time she'd been away was less than the dirt beneath a fingernail, and yet how she had missed this place. The affection she bore it was no small thing.

"This way, O Daughter of Heaven."

An old man with an immortal's air sat in the pavilion. Soft billows of steam drifted up from a simply laid table.

The muscle between her brows drew tight. On the soil of her homeland, a filthy invalid had set up house as if the place were his own. That alone was irritation enough, and the invalid—currying favor, no doubt—had even scoured the ruined household until it shone. Her eye caught the tiled-roof house at the edge of her vision. The wreckage shattered in the fight with Akho was gone, the building restored exactly as it had been. Whatever sorcery they had worked in the restoration, even the traces of people who had once lived there remained intact. That excessive obsession revolted her.

"Does the gift please you? I took pains to prepare it."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

The old man, the First Apostle, lifted the teapot and tipped it to the cup. Tea steeped with wild ginseng, roots as thick as a man's finger, gave off a sharp, biting scent.

She settled into a formal kneel on the soft cushion and drained the tea in one pull. A clean, wholesome taste went down her throat. Then she cracked the cup against the table.

"What a shabby little trick. Are you trying to bribe me with something that won't even take?"

The words came out like a blade. Had there been force behind them, the First Apostle's face would have been carved to ribbons.

"Ho ho ho. A bribe? This is merely what ought to be done for you."

The First Apostle laughed, airy and untroubled.

"It is the place where you resided, and soon it will be the place where the Heavenly Road opens. It must not be treated lightly."

"Then what is this pavilion? Did you build it for a hobby?"

"I made it while I was at it. To set the mood."

He slurped.

"If you wish it gone, I can erase it whenever I please. It isn't strictly necessary for opening the Heavenly Road."

"Ha. Waste upon waste. You must be feeling quite at ease."

"No."

The First Apostle set his cup down, lifted the teapot, and drank in great gulps. Tea spilled between swallows and soaked his collar through.

"Khh!"

Letting out a thick cry as if he had downed liquor, he pulled the remaining wild ginseng free and chewed it like a bar snack. It crunched between his teeth.

"We're in a hurry. A ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠terrible hurry. Intruders have come. This is no time to sit idle."

So they came…….

The timing was uncanny. Or had they come precisely because the timing was like this? The apostles had vanished from sight. They had surely gone to hold them off.

"Good."

She was glad they had come. Not even a few days had passed—had they already mustered their full strength?

"Do you need more tea? I'll bring it at once."

"I'll decline."

The First Apostle picked up the teacup and hurled it out of the pavilion. It dropped with a soft tap and shattered to pieces.

"Let us go."

He gestured, and she saw the impatience in the motion.

"You sang and sang of fate, and yet you are no different from anyone else."

"……This, too, is a trial."

"Trial, my ass."

That's a defeat flag, you bastard.

"Is there some ritual prepared? Opening the Heavenly Road ought to take a great deal of preparation."

"The ritual has been ready since long ago."

The First Apostle tapped his foot, and the shards of the teacup turned to light. A strange hum rose, like insects beating their wings, and the shards drew trails of light as they circled her.

"If you cooperate properly, Heaven will embrace you as well."

"Fuck off. I hate Heaven down to my bones."

"Ho ho ho. That will put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠you in a difficult position."

Lines of light stacked upon lines of light. The landscape vanished until only the sky could be seen.

"If you resist without cause, your life will be in peril. That is something none of us desire."

The blue sky bleached pure white, clean as a sheet of drawing paper laid over the world. A dot was marked upon the paper. The dot was her.

Cold sweat broke across her skin. This presence was unwelcome—frightening, dreadful. A being that had left her a wound she could not erase licked over her skin.

Heaven.

A fragment of it showed itself.

"Oh! Then—!"

"But neither will I cooperate."

Her hands moved in a blur. A formula knotted itself in an instant, and a thin membrane rose over her skin as if she were drawing on a garment.

"Hoo."

"……What are you doing?"

"Throwing a tantrum because I don't want to go."

There's still so much I haven't done. You think I'll let you coo me into this?

"There are plenty of things I want to eat, and plenty of things I want to see."

"……It will be very painful."

His voice was heavy. The First Apostle had seen through her intent.

"Why do you resist like this? If you cooperate, you may obtain everything you desire. Heaven will not claim you, and you will also taste the Ideal World born of the Heavenly Road."

"You call that a question?"

A wretched fool who might not even look back at what he himself had done.

"Why would I help a pack that kidnaps people, locks them away, puts them through hell, and massacres the innocent without mercy?"

"All of it was for Heaven."

"Heaven, Heaven—that damned Heaven……."

Chasing after a worthlessness that amounted to nothing at all.

"And this is what all that chasing got you? You make an enemy of a god, and now something worse than a god is coming to take you apart?"

Foolishness, or obstinacy?

"You can't pretend you don't know. Something has gone wrong."

"……It is too late to give up."

What was in the First Apostle's heart? Had he resigned himself? Was he full of madness? Or would he accept reality and still run on like a runaway train? Whatever it was, his end was already decided—and the end of everyone who followed him. That was what a choice was.

"Thrash all you like, while you wait for the hour of the prophecy."

"The prophecy will not come to pass."

His presence receded. His footsteps were firm. Had he steeled himself, in his own fashion?

"The destination is already set."

"Ha! Go save the one who isn't here, then run your mouth."

The presence vanished. The last of it never reached her.

"Haa."

Nausea surged, and she barely swallowed it down. Pushing back Heaven's power was not easy. If that power devoured her, the chaos they wanted would come.

I'll hold until you arrive. So please.

Come on time.

Phantom.

"Sixth Apostle. That way."

"Nod."

Atop the giant's shoulder, the scarecrow fired a yellow beam from its mouth. Its neck whipped back so hard it seemed about to tear free. A streak of light like a railgun scraped through the trees and hunted its mark.

"Tch!"

Tsunemi Seshiru coughed blood and raised a mirror. It was a copy of the Yata Mirror, one of the Three Sacred Treasures granted by Amaterasu, and it blazed with light. The laser struck as if the mirror had swallowed it. Beam and glass fought, throwing sparks like iron under a blade.

"Khhhhh!!!"

While Tsunemi held, Tomomura burst forward with a sword in hand—a copy of Amenomurakumo no Tsurugi.

"Haaaah!"

The bronze blade drove for the giant's foot. Counterfeit or not, it was an imitation of a sacred treasure, and from the moment a Great Shrine Maiden took it in hand the sword bore divinity. Dozens of gashes opened from his foot up the calf. Blood burst free and soaked the earth.

"Khhh……! That hurts!"

The giant staggered. The scarecrow paused its attack.

"Tch!!!"

The strike had landed, and still Tomomura was anything but pleased. The blood dwindled. Muscle writhed, and skin cinched shut.

"How does that make any sense?!"

She shouted in outrage as she dodged the giant's stamp. What good was landing a blow when every wound healed the instant it opened?

"Beep! Beep!"

The scarecrow's eyes contracted. Those eyes, no larger than black beans, answered the oncoming threat at once. A swarm of curved jewels flung by Onodera ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Io closed on the giant, and before the large and small stones could strike, the scarecrow shook itself and shed straw.

"This is dangerous!"

The giant crossed his arms. The jewels flared red.

Fireworks burst at point-blank range, a brilliance too fierce to look upon. The giant examined his own arms and let out a breath of relief. For all the violence of the blast, they were only scorched—otherwise whole.

"Thank you, Sixth Apostle. I lived because of you."

"Nod, nod."

He brushed the straw from his arm. As if its work were finished, it fluttered off on the wind and was gone.

"Damn it."

Onodera ground her teeth. The attack had been a self-detonation of several copies of the Yasakani no Magatama, and they had shrugged it off without a scratch.

"After everything we sacrificed! Is the world this unfair!"

Was joining hands with a demon not enough!

"Lady Onodera, please calm yourself. If you lose your head, even what might have worked will fail."

Tsunemi wiped the blood from her mouth.

"Lady Tsunemi, if we keep on like this, we'll all die."

Onodera's eyes burned redder than ever.

"Let's use that."

"……It's too soon."

"You'd rather do it after we're dead?"

"…………."

Tsunemi flinched.

"Lady Tsunemi, I understand what you're saying, but we have no chance like this."

Tomomura panted for breath.

"Let's not think about the side effects. We have the serum. We can hold out for a little while."

"……We have no choice."

Tsunemi was unwilling. Its side effects were still under study.

The Great Shrine Maidens drew syringes and red gems from their robes. They injected the blue solution first, then bit down on the red gems and swallowed them.

"Khhhhhh!!!"

"Haaaaah!!!"

Tomomura and Tsunemi shuddered in pain and ecstasy.

"Kyahahahahaha!!!"

Onodera went one step further.

"This! This is it!"

More! More!

"W-wait! What is that!"

Tsunemi groaned through the pain and still gasped in shock.

The syringe Onodera drew out next was filled with black solution. She drove it into her own chest without hesitation.

"Yes……! This is it……!"

Black smoke poured from every opening in her body. Amid that vile, poison-thick smoke the battle sank into a lull, and every eye fixed on Onodera.

"If joining hands with a demon isn't enough, then I'll become a demon myself!"

What came through the black smoke was no Great Shrine Maiden who served a god. A golden horn stood upon her brow. She was an oni.