#samsara beats

[kazu-naito]

you know it's over when you see these expressions

[astrum99]

Surprisingly, human beings are the only creatures that looked into themselves. Movement of a blade sharpened to max, lightning fast, no hesitation. Peeling back skin and draining sinus. Bodies (alive, young), huddled around bodies (dead, damaged), to examine and poke and tear and say “I see, that one is the Inferior Vena Cava”. These abominable actions saves lives. Curiosity and morbidity guided a way of survival, of rescue. Later, the same sentiments, mixed with desperation, guided a way to destruction.

Bearing the remnants of humans, their organs pulsating in its body. A machine. A child of man.

Angels, on the other hand, are made perfect. Healthy body, strong will, and filled with holy light right off the bat. Vicious in battles. No need for learning, little need for healing. The smoothness and perfection of their skin akin to marble and sea glass. All creations pale in their presence. Nothing beats perfection. Certainly not creatures of cold unfeeling metal. Lightless, soulless, running on a fixed program of 0’s and 1’s set by the expired words of self-destroying, world-destroying, rotten images of God. Heretic. Even in their perishment, they set to ruin. Systems that they themselves can no longer escape from. Samsara of endless pain and death.

It is a wonder then, that when the machine finally tear through Gabriel’s helm, he become faintly aware of the things hidden deep inside. The ugly, raw things inside. The things he must have known but were never brave enough to face: the same pulsing gore that pushes through the gaps of his skin is the same as the one in the mankind’s bodies; the wires that prods through the throbbing organs is the same as that runs through the chassis of the machine. His body echos the lesser beings. For a second, he could not distinguish himself from man nor machine. How ridiculous, he thought, it thought. To be of this state. To see his/its image in his/its body. To have his/its strings/wires cut so late. The taste of spectacular freedom at the last millisecond of his/its life.

As the last drop of holy light seeps through his helm to stain the machine’s optics, he recognizes himself as heaven’s machine, and the machine as mankind’s angel. And now they are the same.

---

Insp is this post by @sinew-lattice!

thank u for infesting me w brain worms i enjoyed hosting the wiggly thing very much (also pls let me know if u don't like ppl writing/tagging i can always take stuff down:] )

[calllynx]

I know its an easy way to have a lot of drama in a story but it always bothers me when people are like "oh the Ancients were in a death cult" or "oh what about the Ancients who didn't want to ascend they were probably forced into it" or portrays like, drones spraying people with void fluid to forcibly ascend them. I don't want to randomly attack anyone's story or ocs but it just makes me think a lot about how Ascension is portrayed in terms of the culture of the Ancients in-game.

In general I strongly dislike the sentiment of that one echo added in DP, it's very counter-canon. The idea that the solution is to have a good time living instead of seeking ascension makes sense for this world but not for Rain World. Ascension isn't really comparable to death, it's more like proper funeral rites that allow a ghost to go free from the mortal world. It's like escaping Samsara.

We don't know exactly how the impossibility of death manifests in Rain World, but at the least it has to be extremely unpleasant. Whether it's a constantly looping death dream impossible to differentiate from reality (like we experience in-game), or a constant cycle of reincarnation, we know that every creature in the world experiences the suffocation that comes from not being able to escape.

The one description of an Ascension rite we get from one of the echoes seems to imply that the individual was already dead when being submerged in the void fluid anyway. Void fluid baths were highly in demand. This whole civilization was built around the desire to transcend the suffocation that comes from living in Rain World, and the goal of the game is to follow them. The reward for beating Rain World is not having to play Rain World anymore. Ascension is beating the game.

All that to say, an Ancient who doesn't want to ascend reads less to me like someone breaking free of a deathcult, and more like someone inexplicably rejecting their entire cultural upbringing in favour of one more similar to our own, and denying themselves proper funeral rites. No shade to other people with Ancient ocs, I've just spent too long arguing about the game lore and now my brain's turned to stone. It's like someone who says "just throw my body to the dogs idc" instead of wanting their soul to go free I feel.

[iamcassian]

you guys know how the archons get their power from their believers?

well. let's see who the real strongest archon is.

barbatos has a whole church dedicated to him. while mondstadt is probably the smallest nation, the whole population is dedicated to the anemo archon. they believe steadfast in him, and his church prays day and night. the strength of their faith proves him not to be as weak as he tries to appear as.

morax was arguably the strongest before he quit. while he still remains strong, his power must be weakening, because liyue believes rex lapis to be "dead". i wonder is liyue will still worship morax, or be a godless nation like khaenri'ah.

raiden shogun was feared by her nation for a long time. i think her power is growing now because she is no longer simply viewed as someone to "be afraid of". now she is a better archon, therefore having more believers. because to aknowledge the existence of the divine is not always to believe. she cultivated the power of the musu no hitotachi herself, so she is incredibly strong even without the faith of her people.

lesser lord kusanali is no doubt revered. although, while she was trapped in the sanctuary of surasthana, she was not wholly believed in, because most of her nation still loved greater lord rukkhadevata. now, after erasing rukkhadevata, her people adore her. she has the power to create an endless samsara cycle, as proved in the main sumeru story quest.

focalors was praised as an archon. she had the opera epiclese to transfer power so she could fool the heavenly principles. she then transferred her power back to neuvilette, giving him his power as hydro dragon sovereign now. he has more power than an archon, and the only person who could best him now are the heavenly principles or a descender.

murata has showcased the might of her determination and will. all the power of her believers goes into fueling the sacred flame, and she gave up her gnosis powers. the power she showcased when she beat back the abyss and broke the sky was solely her own. her people believe in her so strongly, so when the day comes, and she uses the power of her people, i suspect she will be very, very strong.

[gallusrostromegalus]

"-and then the new guys beat the shit out of the Soul King's buddy and dismembered th Soul King for parts to sell as part of an organ harvesting scheme!"

Wait.

"but they messed up and now the only normal exit from Hell is being blocked by God's Ass."

Wait.

Is the title a joke about.... no, I'm taking that thought too far. One thing at a time.

Gallus, is God the elephant?

~**CONGRATULATIONS ON SPOTTING THE OVERARCHING THEME/MAJOR NARRATIVE DEVICE FROM THE SHITTY LITTLE SUMMARIES!!! **~

Your High School Literature teacher would be proud.

--

Ok, it's two steps to the left of "God is literally The Elephant", but that's where it started.

The Fable of The Blind Men and The Elephant actually IS about how no single person can perceive the entirety of any situation- your friend's weird breakup, the nature of God, economics, etc.- and that you need to work with other people to have a damn clue about what you're doing. The Fable (Or rather, my favorite children's book about it), is used as a framing device to structure the plot because I have ADHD and my brain is a flan on a good day, so I need all the structure I can get.

But The Fable is there because the overriding theme is one of how people *thinking* they know what they're doing when they have only a fraction of the information available, feeling like they have to do something alone, and/or failing to communicate fucking anything is the primary cause of disaster, and things only start to improve when the characters start listening to a diversity of opinons and fucking cooperate.

So on one hand, the fact that God's Repairman's Disassembled Corpse is gumming up the wheel of Samsara is the elephant. On the other hand, the elephant is the wheel itself, and the important lesson here is to fucking talk to people about your problems and help each other out.

Also yes. It's a very shitty pun :)

[peemanne]

INFINITE WEALTH SPOILERS IN MINI RAMBLE AHEAD!!!!!!! YEAH!!!! LIKE FINAL CHAPTER SHENANIGANS!!!!! REALLY BAD!!!!!!!! YEAH!!!!!! (and also touching on y2 and y6 and gaiden i guess but come on)

YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!!!!!! IF YOU ARE NOW ON YOUR WAY OUT, SEE YOU LATER AND ALSO CHECK OUT THIS COOL PHOTO OF ZHAO I TOOK

Been mulling over IW's story since I beat it, and while there are still aspects I'm very much still mixed on, one thing I've surprisingly found to actually only be better after thinking about it even more was the final boss in Ebina. And yeah yeah he could have used a tad bit more screentime, but I think the stuff he does have and all the stuff he symbolizes are really well written. In Gaiden, we dealt with the manifestation of the yakuza itself, and now we face off against the manifestation of all the wrong the yakuza's done. Despite Kiryu's best efforts, there's so many lives he's endangered. So much death that follows him and those around him, and he's completely aware of this. Kiryu shows a lot of self-destructiveness throughout the series, like in Y2 where he gives himself up in a practically suicidal draw with Ryuji, or in Y6 where he so readily throws himself away at the first chance he gets. I still remember Haruka's line in that game: "Don't look so satisfied about this!". And especially in IW, knowing that cancer's got him that much closer to death's door, he's still so ready to throw himself away. But now that's he's forced to rely on his allies, now that he gets to really reflect on all the friends that he's made throughout the years, now that he has Ichiban telling him to really LIVE, he's done running. Kiryu sees a lot of himself in Ebina, because he knows the look of a man who's hellbent on throwing himself away.

Ebina knows he's fighting a losing battle. He leaves Sawashiro alive and he repeatedly begs for Kiryu to kill him at the end of the fight. Look at the demon on his back: he knows he's falling into hell, and he's intent on dragging the reason why he's falling down with him. And that's why it's so cathartic seeing Kiryu beg to him at the end. He's breaks down, seeing the personification of all of the sins the yakuza, and he cries out apologies. Because that's what this fight is about. Atonement, against a vengeful spirit. A breaking of the cycle, further hammered in by the choice to name Ebina's moves after chakra points ("Pierce the Muladhara, Cripple the Manipura, Wheel of Samsara"). The theme The End of Denial is such an amazing choice for this too, a much more sorrowful, reflective track than most of the other final boss themes. It's not just a cheeky bit of "look how far we've come" that they've included the original Yakuza's intro guitar in here, it's Kiryu directly reflecting on running away. Running away from the Fourth Chairman spot. Running away from Daigo and the clan. Running away from his family. Running away from all the wrongs he's done throughout the years. And now that Kiryu finally finds himself ready to confront it all, even if it's in his twilight years, there's not a chance in hell he's gonna let it slip past him, as he takes Ebina head-on. I couldn't disagree more with the notion that Ichiban should have been the one to fight him. Despite it being his half-brother, this just isn't his fight to take.

It's why this line means so much. Teary-eyed, he begs the man he just punched down for forgiveness for everything the yakuza has done, and he begs for him to LIVE, to not throw himself away the very same way Kiryu has. And this is how he breaks the cycle.

This is how Kazuma Kiryu finally gets to live again.

~ ~ ~

ok thing over! i've been thinking about a write-up on this game's finale ever since i beat it last march 30th and ebina's an aspect i really had to stew over, and i finally got to it in the same way i did with my gaiden mini ramble. by making a long text wall in a discord server and figuring that it'd fit well enough to be put here

i'd really like to shoutout @.FormerSoulKing on twitter and their post on IW's religious symbolism for inspiring this post. it's also just like, a really cool read.

additionally i'd also ramble about the ending scene with ichi carrying eiji out at the end and how it's like him "setting things right" and not letting what he watched happen to masato happen to another friend of his but honestly i just love that scene so much i don't think i could ever properly put it into words

[loving-n0t-heyting]

relented to temptation today and restarted qud after having broken the cycle of roguelike samsara months ago by beating the main quest as far as possible under the last version whose ui i can tolerate (pre-beta). on my first run (permadeath mode) i was able to achieve the lesser victory in under half a day of on and off playing. w00t

[petterwass]

This was just very funny. Oh Mr Assassin, you can phase through operators when you're injured?

Beautiful Rice Wife says no to that. You don't get to do that. Stay put.

Chongyue beat on him. Assassin tries to phase through, Shu Samsara's him right back into Chongyue's fist.

[osunism]

Daughter of Disgrace

"Is there any place where Heaven's bastard daughters are welcome?"

🔞 Rating: Explicit [MDNI] ❤️‍🔥 Pairing[s]: Satoru + Sundari || Nadja + Sukuna ⚠️ Warning[s]: Explicit sexual situations, graphic depictions of violence, major character death[s], as well as some toxic relationship elements. Spoilers for the manga. Sukuna is his own warning but there is cannibalism, abuse, body horror, and mild torture in this fic. So canon-typical violence. 🪧 Summary: In the aftermath of Satoru Gojo's sealing, Sundari must choose rebellion in order to free him. Lucky for them both, rebellion has always been her preferred modus operandi.

⚠️ Be Advised: This is the sequel to Beast of No Nation. It's recommended that you read that fic first to get the context of this one.

𓃰 AO3 𑁍 OC Masterpost 𑁍 Fic Masterpost 𓃰

𓃰 Chapter Ten: Throughout Heaven & Earth

“I remember feeling your touch for the first time, so soft it turned my bones into flowers. People are like that, I’ve learned, our hearts memorize them. Some people take root inside the marrow of our bones and grow there.” —Pavana पवन

Unnamed Shore, Unnamed Time

     From an aerial view, one might mistake her for a soaked piece of cargo, curled as she is on the rocky beach. The sea heaves and sighs against the shore, the tide rushing in.

     That’s what wakes her, and she jerks and twitches, coughing and gasping for breath and coming up on trembling, unsteady arms, her hair bedraggled, her skin soaked and salted by the brine of the sea. She feels like one, enormous bruise, and for a moment, she wants to collapse again.

     She blinks, swaying as she comes up to sit on her knees, as the waves wash upon the shore, the morning sun becoming oppressively bright to her eyes, which feel as sensitive as a newborn’s. The sea’s voice feels too loud, and she crawls further inland, her hands cold and numb to the rocks beneath her palms.

     She is so cold. The kind of cold that never leaves the bones, her body shivering around her soul like it is struggling to contain it. It is struggling to contain it.

     Little by little, she regains strength, and as she leaves the shore, she realizes what has happened to her.

     So, this is the price.

The world is still new—she can still smell the sulfur of the First Flame, but it is fading. How long was she on this nameless shore before her soul was shoved into this body? She can feel how her soul strains against the borders of her body, not used to being so small and weak. She can feel an ache in her bones, a chill in her marrow, and she shivers. She tries to remember the warmth of that sacred place that was her home, and her blood beats in her ears as the memories slip through her mind like sand through her fingers.

     Over time, she learns the limits of her body, the breadth of her strength. What was stripped from her was access to the vitae of the other realms. She can no longer hear the music of the universe. She can no longer understand the creatures she encounters. She is no more than a naked and frightened mortal.

     No. No, the long life and eternal youth is molded into her is hers still, this much they have allowed her.

     But she is chained to Samsara, trapped on the eastern spoke of the Wheel. Forced to begin anew. This is her punishment.

     This is the price for the knowledge she has given mankind.

Zenin Estate, December 19, 2018

     Winter sinks its teeth into its already nasty bite as the year approaches its end. During this time, humanity the world over prepares for the holidays, enjoying that idyllic little stretch until New Year’s Eve. In another time, Nadja may have been amongst those humans, blending in with them, pretending to be cheerful; decorating, singing, basking in the artificial joy of a holiday younger than her, but with roots in her own origins.

     “You’re violating your restriction,” Sukuna murmurs, his tone somewhat mystified while they lay amidst the cushioning support of pillows, blankets, and futons arranged to accommodate Sukuna’s massive frame. Nadja is stitched to his side, her eyes heavy-lidded and blurred with pleasure, and a soft, grateful smile on her face.

     “Yes,” she whispers, her tone equally mystified that she would dare such a thing. “But you already solved the riddle of me and know why I’m here. So long as I do not end your life, my mission is still active. I still have a chance to redeem myself.”

     Sukuna chuckles. “Only part of it. There’s more, isn’t there? Why is my death the key to your redemption?”

     Nadja’s hand is captured in his own, and he brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles and fingers as if they are precious treasures to savor. Gone is the violence of their reunion, replaced only by the pleasant warmth of their old familiarity. The coin of their anger is spent, and only pleasure remains.

     “I didn’t know it would be you,” Nadja murmurs, turning her head to press her lips against the curve of one of his shoulders, tracing the black band of cursed ink on its contours. “I wasn’t told much, only that I’d know when we crossed paths. And I knew when I saw you that night. I just…I didn’t expect you to be so…”

     Sukuna grins at her knowingly and she tries to swat him for the unspoken joke he’s making with his eyes, but he still holds her hand captive. Her smile is warm, and for a moment she forgets everything but this.

     “I fell in love with you,” she says softly, and she feels the tension ripple through him, sees the telltale signs of him beginning to shutter himself, but she presses onward. She has to, now, to make up for all she didn’t say a thousand years ago. “Your curious and cunning mind, your strength of course, the way you…the way you carry yourself with this unshakeable sense of self. Grace, dignity, and pride in spades. And you are so beautiful to me. And yet, I saw you were capable of infinite gentleness and compassion, in your own way. I had met many before you, but none like you. And I knew when I saw you, that I never would again.”

     Sukuna smirks. “Ah, you are sentimental, then. A foolish notion, Daughter of Heaven. Though I appreciate your flattery.”

     Nadja sits up, sucking her teeth in irritation. “Do you honestly feel like you must keep up this pretense here of all places? It is just the two of us, Sukuna. You need not pretend to be heartless in an attempt to belittle and hurt me. You asked why I was sent to kill you, and I’m telling you why I haven’t been able to do so.”

     Sukuna watches her with shrewd eyes.

     “And do you love me still? Even after all I have done and all I plan to do? To you? To your compatriots?”

     Nadja breathes deep. “Sukuna, I can’t kill you, a thousand years later. Do you really need to ask?”

     “No,” Sukuna replies, his gaze unblinking, its weight making Nadja feel like her skin is too tight for whatever is inside of her. “But I want to hear you say it.”

     Nadja takes in a shaky breath.

     “I love you,” she whispers, the words are like a secret she can no longer keep; one both of them have always known. And then the words are coming of their own volition, the scar tissue of a thousand years torn asunder to bleed the wound anew, raw and aching and vulnerable and real. “I always have. I never stopped. And I don’t think I ever will. In every lifetime I will probably love you. Four arms, two arms, no arms. Sukuna, you are—”

     She doesn’t get far, as he tugs her down to kiss her soundly, until she is breathless with laughter, until his grin is imprinted on her skin as surely as the tattoos that mark him.

     “Go on,” he says, as he maneuvers her beneath him, spreading her legs around his waist, his lower hands gripping her hips, while he plants his upper hands on either side of her. Nadja can feel the blunt tip of one of his cocks probing for entry, but she’s not ready yet.

     “Sukuna…” she whispers, though she’s not sure for what. Sukuna grins down at her.

     “I…” Her voice sounds so small, and she wishes she had a weapon. For the first time, she is truly unarmed before him. She wishes she had the conviction to raise a blade against him. But she doesn’t and he knows it. He has her dead to rights, and she just confessed that she is still in love with him. And he hasn’t said whether or not he feels the same. But they both know the truth.

     One of his hands reaches down, grips his cock tightly, pumping it slowly before dragging the bulbous head up and down the seam of her pussy until he feels her grow slick. He growls in satisfaction when she relaxes under him, shivering and groaning from the sensation. The tongue of his lower mouth slips out, soaking her cunt until she’s so slippery he can slide into with ease.

     “One of a kind,” he murmurs as he slips inside her warmth, finding little resistance as he stretches her until he’s hilt-deep. She moans like she’s wounded, and he drops down to his upper elbows to cage her in, kissing her forehead and then her cheeks, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. There, he lingers, refusing to move, relishing the feel of her breathing and shuddering beneath him. His eyes glow in the dim bedroom, and she breathes against his mouth, lips parted as his tongue snakes between, tasting her.

     “You’re something of an enigma yourself, Daughter of Heaven,” Sukuna teases, trying his damndest to ignore how her cunt tightens its grip on his cock like a wet, velvet fist. He resists the urge to push her legs back onto the mattress and plow her until she can feel him in her throat.

     “D-don’t call me th-that…” She stammers, hands grasping at his forearms, nails digging into the densely corded muscle as his pace becomes a bit more demanding. She’s still sensitive and overstimulated, so getting to her first climax feels like a stumble over the finish line for her, taking her by surprise while Sukuna strokes her through it. He doesn’t stop, and Nadja struggles for breath, trying desperately to hold onto the sentient parts of herself that are dissolving beneath the relentless thrust of his hips.

     In every lifetime…

Sukuna does not tell her that he loves her, but it’s there: imprinted in every kiss, every groan, every mark he leaves on her skin with his teeth. The way he holds her close and whispers the filthiest words in the most tender voice, as if telling her to come for him is a benediction and not a command. And she comes apart, sundered from herself, surrendering to him as she has longed to do from the moment she saw him.

     In every lifetime…

Nadja feels the pact on her soul weigh heavy like chains, even as Sukuna’s thrusts become ragged and stuttered. His expression is shuttered from her, his eyes distant, and he comes with a guttural sound that shakes her bones, driving himself to the hilt as he empties himself inside of her, spent and sated.

     In every lifetime…

     Pierce the heart of the heartless.

Sukuna rolls them over, and Nadja lays atop him in utter stillness, limp and panting for breath. His chest rises and falls beneath her, his heart beating a strong fever cadence in her ears. War drums in the hollow cavity of his chest. The heart she is supposed to pierce with her Executioner Blade, which lies forgotten amidst the pile of suedes and sheaths beyond her reach.

     I love you.

Nadja feels something snap within her, a sound like a chain breaking, and shuts her eyes against the sudden threat of tears. How can she hope to kill this man when she no longer feels the need to prove herself to the ones who gave her this mission?

     “Sukuna,” she whispers, and his answering hum sound pleased and sated. “What is your goal for all this?”

     Sukuna stills beneath her, and she feels unsure for the first time. A pair of hands tighten their grip on her rear, and she knows there will be bruising.

     “Look at me.” The command brooks no room for protest and Nadja responds by sitting up to look at him. For a man who hates to be looked down upon, he does not seem to mind. Even so, all four of his eyes are on hers, the crimson glittering like faceted rubies, his expression one of deadly calm.

     “Sukuna—” He silences her with another look.

     “I will do as I please,” he says. “Until my life is taken, or I expire of old age. Time has no meaning for me as a curse, just as it never had meaning for you as an immortal.”

     Nadja shakes her head. “But what is the point of all this violence? My love do you not see that things could be different now? You can choose another path.”

     Sukuna stares at her.

     “Why would I want to?”

     Tears prick Nadja’s eyes. She has to try. Maybe there will be no need to draw her sword, or to hope that their daughter can put him down for good. She shuts her eyes, willing the tears to stay, but her lashes are wet, and Sukuna can see his obstinate stance has wounded her. Something in his gut twists and squirms like maggots in a corpse. He reaches up with one hand, cups Nadja’s face, his thumb catching a single tear that escapes her moist lashes.

     “Please,” she whispers. She knows she’s going to beg. “Take another vessel, let Megumi go, you have a chance to do something different. The world that cursed you no longer exists, my love. Why isn’t this enough?”

     Sukuna sucks his teeth.

     “I will have you,” he says. “And I will have my vengeance. I am a curse, Nadja. It is my purpose.”

     Nadja is angry, now. More at what was done to him to make him this way than anything.

     “You are not a curse!” She snaps and from the way his gaze sharpens and one of his hands twitch in a familiar gesture, she knows she’s overstepped. The pain of his technique opens a small wound in her side. Blood trickles down, sliding over every slalom before landing on his belly. His secondary mouth opens, the massive tongue sliding out to lap at the droplets. Nadja hates herself for finding it…arousing.

     “What am I, then?” He taunts.

     Nadja glares at him, tears gathering in her eyes again.

     “You’re a man, Sukuna. You are one of a kind. The most powerful sorcerer I’ve ever met. A veritable virtuoso of jujutsu. Your gifts could change this world for the better. Why continue on this path when everyone who has ever cursed you is already dead? You don’t have to carry it anymore, my love.”

     My love.

     Sukuna has longed to hear her say those words, and he hates that the first time he hears them in sincerity is when she is begging him not to do what he has always done. It scrapes at his nerves, but his heart beats heavy in his chest. He hates it, hates this, but knows that there is a price for being greedy. There’s always a price. She knows this as so few do, being the divine creature she is trapped in this body.

     He is silent in the wake of her plea, can see the tears in her eyes. He has never seen her weep in sorrow before.

     He thinks about the poison writhing inside him, thinks of a conversation he had with her long ago. He loves her, but even that will eventually be sacrificed on the altar of what he is. The God of Hida, and its most fearsome bane.

     “Go back to them,” he tells her, and hates himself for every word that leaves his mouth. “If we survive all this, we will continue this discussion.”

     Nadja laughs despite her tears, and he smiles easily for having made her smile this once.

     Sukuna’s lower eyes slip to the wound he made. It’s healed, leaving only dried flecks of blood. One of his hands kneads up her side, giving her waist a generous squeeze.

     “And if we don’t?” She whispers, and Sukuna’s eyes meet hers.

     “Then I will find you on the Wheel, Nadja,” he says, and grins that secretive and malicious grin. “You were made for me, after all.”

Shibuya 109 Building Rooftop, December 24, 2018

     The morning of Christmas Eve dawns overcast and gray, a dry and crisp wind threading through Tokyo’s spire-ridden heart, whistling across the wasteland of Shibuya, and moaning through the abandoned streets of the city. Satoru takes in the unnerving quiet of the city, unblinking, his face an impassive effigy of stillness and concentration, his haori and scarf whipping around him.

     When he’d initially chosen this day, he had been thinking of Suguru, and it had taken time for him to realize that he had one foot entrenched in the past, one of his Six Eyes always looking backward. It wasn’t until his birthday, and his talk with Nanami that he realized he could no longer afford to look back. It wasn’t until he finally looked around him that he realized he could look forward. He no longer needs to look behind him, waiting for a comforting presence that will never come.

     He has to move forward. After all, there is a future with love waiting for him. His students are watching. The world is watching. Destiny’s hand has never been heavier on his shoulders. He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp, algid December wind, relishing the sting in his nose and eyes. At his back, three of the people he wishes to protect stand at the ready: Utahime, whose soft eyes are hardened with determination, her cursed energy building; Gakuganji, who tunes up his guitar with ease, rheumy eyes clear and focused and lucid; and then there is Sundari, whose four arms are stretched in preparation, each of her four hands in a different mudra, her body held in the statuary of a one-legged pose—a veritable embodiment of Nataraja.

     “When you’re ready,” Satoru says to Utahime.

     The ritual the four of them undertake is one they have been planning since Satoru got the lay of the land and the date of the challenge, weaving it day after day with cursed energy. Each of them, a thread in a greater tapestry set to be unveiled on this day. Satoru looks forward, raises his voice in a chant not heard in centuries.

     Together, they weave a melody of cursed energy. Ijichi’s veil holds, but Satoru can sense the strain in him. He has poured all of himself into this moment, and Satoru trusts no one else to accomplish this opening gambit.

     He does not stand alone. He never will again.

     All Six Eyes are open, and the world around him is transformed. He can see the very fabric of cursed energy in the air, can chase its dark and glittering threads to their source. He can pull it apart, weave it together, compounding it upon itself unto infinity.

     Technique Amplification: Blue.

Sundari’s voice harmonizes with Utahime’s, all four of her eyes flaring and unblinking.

     Technique Reversal: Red.

Gakuganji’s fingers strum a wailing chord that threads the infinity between both orbs.

“Nine Ropes. Polarized light. Crow and Declaration. Between Front and Back.”

Satoru’s voice rings with a power that makes the very air tremble in anticipation for the leashed power gathering like a storm at the tips of his fingers. Threading beneath him is Sundari’s haunting harmony, sung from the mouth on her belly, weaving like balanced koi with Utahime’s powerfully clear and bright voice.

     Hollow Technique: Purple.

And all at once, the world releases its breath as Ijichi’s barrier dissolves. For a brief instant, the entire city is engulfed in violet light, so bright that no cameras could get a photo of what exactly happened that day.

     Satoru watches with wide and predatory eyes as his attack rushed across the city, carving an impossible swathe through Shibuya, heading straight to Shinjuku. He can see Sukuna, can see the steady and malevolent flower of destruction that is his cursed energy, and the pinprick of his lackey at his rear.

     He can almost make out Sukuna’s smug smirk as he dodges at the last possible second. Satoru knows what he’s up against when he manages to take off two of Sukuna’s arms. It’s a hell of an opening gambit, and he’s still got plenty of cursed energy to spare. He was just hoping Purple would finish this quickly.

     Ah, well. He is the strongest, after all.

     Satoru doesn’t look back, even as he vanishes, making his way to Shinjuku. He finds Sukuna, surveying the damage Purple left in its wake, and healing his severed arms. Satoru isn’t prepared for how big he is.

     Well, Sundari is tall…it makes sense that she took after her—

“Just so we’re clear,” Satoru says with a grin. “You’re the challenger here.”

     Sukuna grins back like a predator scenting blood. “Alright, punk. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

     Amplifying Satoru’s power had barely tapped Sundari’s cursed energy reserves, but she still feels the strain of pouring so much of herself into a bolstering technique. She is better suited to destruction than support. Takes just as much energy but feels more fun for her. She’ll have to commend Utahime for being able to do this and still be standing after. The elder sorcerer with the guitar isn’t so bad either, though he looks at her like she’s Sukuna himself.

     Ah, well. She’s known not everyone will take her presence as a welcome one. Still, without Satoru here as a buffer, she has to confront these prejudices head-on, and she’s never backed down from a challenge.

     “You stare at me any harder and you’ll burst into flames, Gakuganji,” Sundari says, amused as her lower eyes catch his glare again as they make their way back to the rest of the group.

     “Only after you and your accursed father have been exorcized, no doubt,” he fires back with equal venom. Sundari chuckles darkly.

     “You guys are going about this all wrong if you still think he’s a curse,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. At Utahime’s sharp look, Sundari turned out all four of her hands.

     “You could have spent more time picking me and mom’s brains instead of glaring at me, just saying,” Sundari says. “But mom already explained when she got back: Sukuna’s incarnated. Whatever he did to turn himself into a cursed object seems like a set thing, so…not a curse! Otherwise, Megumi’s shikigami would have killed him.”

     She meets Utahime and Gakuganji’s shocked expressions.

     “You guys never wondered how the fuck he did it?” Sundari asks incredulously. “Oh. Satoru mentioned that jujutsu society is very…insular, even amongst yourselves. Wow, I bet all that shit in Shibuya could have been avoided if you guys talked to each other and shared knowledge more, huh?”

     And with that, Sundari takes her leave. She finds the rest of what remains of ‘jujutsu society’ arrayed in a viewing room. Mei Mei has been contracted to stream the showdown between Satoru and Sukuna via her cursed technique. Sundari initially protested the idea, but Satoru insisted.

     She still thinks it’s foolish.

     “Hikmat-san,” Yuji greets with a wave. Sundari smirks.

     “Just Sundari, Yuji,” she corrects. “What’s up? Has Satoru won, yet? He promised he’d wrap this up as quick as he could.”

     Not only is Satoru not winning, but he’s scrapping. Sundari watches as her father and her…well, she guesses she can call him her boyfriend…thinking about this gets weird for her so she focuses on the fight as objectively as she can. Satoru is so fast, and she’s fought him enough that she can practically feel their breaths in sync. She can feel his movements, and if she focuses enough, she can almost predict his explosiveness.

     But her father is the same way. She can see it, even if the others can’t. The older sorcerer, Kusakabe, is onto something, and Sundari knows that his mind is chasing the same conclusion: Satoru and Sukuna are nigh evenly matched.

     “Have you seen my mother anywhere?” Sundari asks Yuji, who shakes his head. Sundari sucks her teeth. How cowardly of her: she can’t even bring herself to watch Sukuna’s defeat, one she could have avoided had she done her job right the first time.

     Sundari stops herself short, her anger cooling immediately. No, that isn’t fair to her mother. She can’t imagine being forced to be the executioner of someone she loves. She can’t imagine ever having to do something like that to Satoru, or any of the students she’s come to adore and respect since coming to know them.

     And Nadja has loved Sukuna for a thousand years. Sundari counts her very existence as proof of that, otherwise, Nadja could have killed her too. Still, they have a duty to this world, and she has a vow to consider, and right now the man she loves is trying to find a way to circumvent it and Sundari knows…

     …she knows it’s not enough to thwart the will of Heaven itself.

     Satoru has trained all his life for this moment.

     Every single thing that has shaped him, was for this: his destiny.

     Sukuna is the jujutsu world’s “unfinished business” only because none have ever been strong enough to destroy him. Satoru knows why he was born, has watched the unfathomable pattern of the universe unfold before his Six Eyes. He has grasped it at the very brink of death, the glittering edge of fate that seldom few ever got to see without fully dying.

     He has been to that place, the thin, bright line betwixt life and death, and know his destiny snarls in his face with two faces, two mouths, four eyes, and four arms.

     Sundari was meant to cross his path, and he was meant to hone his diamond edge against her in preparation for this.

     Four arms. He can handle that. Reach and flexibility. He just pours more into his speed; his mind is a slipstream of instinct and impossible calculus.

     He can’t think of her right now, but he does anyway. Sundari and her four arms. Sukuna has more cursed energy behind his strikes than her, but their physiology is the same and thus, bound by the same rules.

     Four eyes—Satoru has fought his daughter and learned the limits of her enhanced perception and perspective. Yes, he knows where Sukuna’s blind spots are.

     The second mouth. Sundari has told him it does not strain the heart or lungs. It can chant indefinitely while the second set of arms makes mudras. Alright, he can take that apart when he finds an opening. At least temporarily.

     He has to find a way to keep Sukuna from being able to heal. That’s the definitive factor. If he cannot replenish himself, then it becomes a war of attrition. And that is a war that Satoru will inevitably win due to his limitless cursed energy reserves.

     It’s when he sees the strange wheel cresting behind Sukuna’s head that he realizes there is one thing he could never have prepared for.

     A long time ago, Satoru was told about the origin of the bad blood between his clan and the Zenins. In his mind, the Zenins were almost to a one pieces of absolute shit, and most of them not nearly strong enough to run in yolk with him anyway [until Toji, and later Maki]. Still, the story of their fabled inherited technique was one passed down through the generations of both clans as it had once changed the trajectory of their bloodlines forever.

     Until he was born, of course.

     And because Satoru does not believe in coincidence—only the spokes of the wheel that are Fate and Destiny—he understands what the universe has tasked him with…and what that means for Megumi as well, whose soul is barely a dim flicker in his eyes, hidden deep within the monster that has consumed him. Sukuna is just armor, and Satoru will pull him piecemeal from his charge like any other curse clinging so viscerally to life long after their time is done.

     The halo-like wheel crowning Sukuna glows and twitches, and then turns once.

     Something in the universe tilts away from Satoru, but it’s so subtle that he almost mistakes it for vertigo. But no, his Six Eyes are telling him something is changing, shifting. He focuses on Sukuna, seeking to damage him beyond repair. The wheel is twitching again, but not glowing.

     What the hell is going on?

     He tries to remember the intel he was given. Nadja hadn’t mentioned anything about this, but Sundari had mentioned Megumi summoning a powerful shikigami with a similar apparatus above its head. She’d gotten Megumi to safety in Shibuya while Sukuna fought and destroyed it, negating the subjugation ritual. And if he wears this apparatus now, that can only mean…

     Satoru shifts tactics immediately. He wishes that Sundari had stayed and fought that shikigami, but he knows that this must be the same ability that killed the Limitless Six Eyes user four centuries prior. And in turn, the Ten Shadows user must have also been killed, likely by the very shikigami they summoned to end the fight. No one was ever able to figure out how because once the Ten Shadows user perished, the shikigami was dismissed. No one knows what it fucking does. But Sukuna seems to, and that’s troubling.

     There is no such thing as coincidence.

     Sukuna has tamed whatever thing lay at the end of the Ten Shadows, and he’s using it for something Satoru cannot figure out.

     “What will your last words be, I wonder?” Sukuna asks as they lock themselves in a stalemate, their cursed energy lashing against the borders of one another’s defenses like warring storms. “Shall I tell them to Sundari for you?”

     Satoru grins, unflappable in the face of shit talking. He invented that.

     “I don’t know,” Satoru says. “She’s not big on long, dramatic good-byes. She did give me a good luck kiss and told me to hurry up and kill you, though.”

     Satoru’s Six Eyes are running on all cylinders, and his awareness is nigh omnipotent. He can see in all six directions, and as their fight tears through Shinjuku, he feels something he’s only ever felt when sparring Sundari: joy. There is something utterly joyful in being able to revel in the full of his power. Since he was freed from the Prison Realm, he’s felt like a horse that has shaken loose its bridle, and he never intends to be yoked again.

     The very concrete around them shatters with every blow, and Sukuna’s smile is as manic and wild as his own. He sees where Sundari gets it. All that cursed energy, and nowhere to unleash it. Satoru is the perfect match for either of them, because what is the Limitless good for if not enduring relentless cursed energy like this?

     It’s when the wheel turns again that Sukuna’s smile turns from manic to smug.

     And the first blood drawn from Satoru shocks him to momentary stillness as Sukuna flicks two fingers in a careless gesture. The flesh on his neck opens up, and blood spurts from the shallow wound. Satoru feels his mind attempt to go back to a time long past, threatening to lock his limbs and freeze his body, but he’s trained for this.

     That fight is over. Move.

     The world rushes back into focus and sound, and Satoru summons his domain at the same time Sukuna summons his.

     Sundari sees Gojo’s blood spray through the screen, and her breath gets trapped in her lungs. For a moment, everyone is silent because no one in the room has ever been able to get past Satoru’s Infinity ability. Sundari has never been able to figure out how to utilize domain amplification and innate technique in order to utilize both effectively, but as she watches both sorcerers open their domains, she realizes that her father is quite simply on an entirely differently level.

     A virtuoso, she’d jokingly referred to him as when she was explaining to Satoru why her training was more rigorous. For all her power, she did not inherent her father’s ingenuity when it came to jujutsu. What she is, she fought and bled for in every way one can for such knowledge without compromising themselves. She wagers her father didn’t have it easy in his time either, not to mention curses were much stronger back then.

     She can’t argue any of that.

     What she can argue is that the wheel on his head—the one belonging to Megumi’s shikigami—is kind of fucking cheating.

     “Your thoughts betray you, girl,” a voice says at her side. Sundari looks up. A stranger, one newly acquired in the wake of the Culling Games, Hajime Kashimo. Of all assembled, he is the only incarnated sorcerer that seems mostly on their side. When confronted by Satoru, his only desire was to face Sukuna should the Honored One fall, and Satoru agreed. Since then, his behavior—while harsh to some—has been tolerable.

     Sundari knows his interest in her is an extension of his desire to battle her father. Foolish.

     “Then perhaps you should consider minding your business as everyone else seems able to do,” Sundari retorted, awarding him only a flicker of her lower eyes to his younger, incarnated body.

     “When this is over, and if we both survive, perhaps I will test the mettle of the Princess of Curses,” Kashimo says with a derisive little chuckle. Sundari resists the urge to roll her eyes. Not only from the title he’s bestowed upon her, but from the fact that he thinks he can survive a bout with her father and challenge her shortly after. Even Satoru would not be so foolhardy.

     “You’ll find me less likely to adhere to whatever antiquated protocols you ancient sorcerers seem so keen on bringing back in the modern era,” Sundari says—her only warning to him. “If we both survive this, you go back in the box you came out of, and free the mortal whose body you’ve stolen. If you’re a good sport about it, I won’t even destroy whatever cursed object you’ve been hiding in.”

     When Kashimo stalks off, muttering something about ‘Sukuna’s insolent whelp’, Sundari smiles.

     Where the hell is her mother? It’s been an hour already, and the domain clash between Satoru and Sukuna has reached a pinnacle. She’s never seen such brazen displays of power. Domain clashes are usually the final step to victory but both opponents have equally refined domains. Sundari is secretly glad she explained to Satoru how she manages to cast her domain with no barrier.

     Whatever she managed to say must have run through all the filters of his brain for him to figure out an open-barrier domain. It’s a nigh-impossible feat, but Satoru, like her father, is more in-tune with the borders of his own soul, which he now understands to be truly limitless.

     She watches and wants to cheer when Sukuna is stunned into stillness, overtaken by the Unlimited Void. Sundari remembers asking Satoru once what it was like to be on the receiving end of it, and he refused to show her, not knowing how it would affect her abilities if he unleashed such power. It had been enough for them to simply walk hand in hand, marveling at the beauty of his soul made manifest around them.

     Satoru’s fist plows into Sukuna’s chest in a shower of black sparks, and Sundari wonders why her heart seizes in surprise and sorrow as blood trickles from her father’s mouth. All four of his eyes flutter and Sundari’s breath catches in her throat.

     The others are excited, dissecting the fight as if this is some sort of sporting event and not a battle upon which their fates all hang by a single thread. They are so certain that Satoru has secured a decisive victory after such a devastating blow. Sundari stares at the screen when the sparks fade.

     Satoru’s hand is covered in blood, it drips from his fingertips. Sukuna coughs wetly.

     “Lookin’ a little rough there, old man,” Satoru taunts, sounding winded. Sukuna doesn’t glare at him, but grins through his bloodied teeth, giving Satoru a savage smile that makes the Honored One’s blood chill only slightly. Sukuna reaches up, touches the cavity in his sternum.

     He cannot open his domain.

     But, neither can Satoru, if the trickle of blood from his nose is any indication.

     “You’re in pretty rough shape yourself, punk,” Sukuna says, and they spill into motion again.

     The crown spins and spins, glows and glows.

     Satoru still hasn’t figured out what it’s doing.

     He hits Sukuna in the chest again in a shower of black sparks, sending the monster staggering back. Sukuna falls to one knee and Satoru prepares to finish him off, offering a silent apology to Megumi. He’s so goddamned tired, and he knows if he doesn’t muster a Hollow Purple, now, it’s only a matter of time before Sukuna regains his advantage. They’ve clashed domains no less than five times and Sukuna was only stunned for a moment before recovering.

     That damnable crown on his head has something to do with it.

     Two pairs of hands emerge from his shadow and seize him by the arms. Satoru is so shocked he momentarily forgets himself, his Infinity activating instinctually.

     There’s a sound like metal being torn as a blade shears through the barrier of his technique and severs his arm.

     Satoru manages to leap out of the way before the blade can do more damage.

     Towering over him is what he understands to be the shikigami Sundari described in Shibuya. The wheel…the crowning wheel…Satoru searches the archives of his memory, but his brain is burning from the strain of his reversed curse technique overwriting the damage. He’s got the gist of what this shikigami must be doing, but that blade is nasty business.

     He’ll need to take out Sukuna and the shikigami in one shot if he hopes to limp out of here with his head on his shoulders.

     Sukuna smiles, still on one knee as the battle begins in earnest.

     Satoru once again wishes that Sundari had been present for Sukuna’s battle with this shikigami. At the very least, he can know what it does, but as the fight continues, he comes to understand what it is: adaptation.

     He has to destroy it.

     The war for attrition grows desperate, only because he feels his cursed energy output decrease. The black flashes he unleashed help, but he cannot risk opening his domain again as he cannot replenish what he’ll lose if he does.

     And it may very well kill him, but Sukuna likely already knows that. Not that it matters…he has other tactics.

     He summons Blue and Red, sending them away toward Sukuna. The King of Curses shields himself accordingly, sending Red far and wide, apparently missing its target.

     Mahoraga steps in to block Blue, and Satoru smirks because it is at maximum output.

     The shikigami is torn apart, and the crown on Sukuna’s head dissolves. Even so, he is still alive, and he has what he needs to destroy this little upstart. No, that does not do this battle justice.

     Red swings back around as Satoru closes in, distracting Sukuna just long enough to trigger its delayed detonation. Sukuna tumbles forward, and Satoru readies another attack, leaping and catching him around the waist with both legs, unleashing a series of punishing blows. One of Sukuna’s hands catches Satoru’s fist, and Satoru points up.

     “Bang.” He says, and unleashes Red again. He can only do this so many more times, but this fucker is the hardest he’s ever fought. Even his training with Sundari hasn’t prepared him for being pushed this far.

     They break apart in the detonation, and Satoru activates his Infinity again, catching his breath. When the dust settles, Sukuna is still standing, but there is a fury in his eyes fed by tinder a thousand years gone by.

     He makes a gesture, gathering his cursed energy to the singularity of his being. Satoru’s eyes are bright and alert, and he ignores the painful pulsing in his skull as he registers just how vast Sukuna’s power is.

     Ah, Sundari, he thinks, readying himself as he heals his severed arm. I’m sorry we won’t get to do everything I promised. Fuck, am I really doing this right now?

Sukuna took aim, and Satoru saw the cursed energy of a large slash heading his way. He smirked, but his smirk faded when he saw Sukuna’s expression: a hunger there, an eagerness, and anticipation of something.

     Something’s off.

     There’s a strange peace that settles over the ruined battlefield, as the slash grows closer to claim his life. He can see Sukuna’s eyes grow wide, and the ruin of his face where Red hit its mark. The clouds scuttle across the sky, and Satoru is reminded of his final battle with Toji Fushiguro.

     Toji?

     No, Satoru sees her as she seems to shadow-step in front of him. He hears the hiss of steel as her sword, a blade so bright it looks like the sun itself, derails from its sheath. Satoru sees the cursed energy radiating from the sword like a beacon. He knows what it can do, but he’s never seen Nadja use it.

     She brings the blade up in a cross-body swing and there’s a metallic screech as the very will of the divine and what Satoru now understands to be the very will of the profane clash against one another. Sukuna’s cursed technique splits in two as Nadja’s sword explodes in a shower of divine sparks.

     Satoru manages to duck even as the slash passes him by.

     “Nadja…” Satoru murmurs.

     Sukuna’s eyes are wide as he gazes upon her.

     Nadja’s hands are burned beyond recognition, the flesh sizzling from the impact of the block she wasn’t sure would land. But then, blood spills from her mouth, and there’s a terrible pain in her chest.

     “Sukuna…I’m…” she gurgles, looking at him as she slides to her knees, her upper body severed from her lower half as she crumples to the ground.

     “Nadja!” Satoru cries and Sukuna hesitates for the first time.

     There’s silence on the battlefield, now, and some cold and terrible emptiness that takes its place. Sukuna watches Nadja’s body, hoping against hope. He’s killed her before, she’ll reconstitute in moments. How foolish of her to try and defend that punk! But he expects no less. After all, they have a conversation to finish.

     Satoru is kneeling at Nadja’s side, his eyes reading for anything, something denoting life, something denoting the divine resurrection he knows is her birthright and punishment. Sukuna lives and so the peace of death will elude her until he dies.

     He looks up, finds Sukuna standing over him.

     Nadja doesn’t move, and her blood seeps into the dust, into the shattered concrete, pooling around her broken body.

     Sukuna is silent as he kneels, a pair of his hands taking both halves of her, and Satoru doesn’t stop him. It is enough for one day. In a blink, the King of Curses is gone, and Satoru is left alone and injured, staring at the darkening stain of divine blood spilled in the name of protecting him.

Jujutsu Tech, Tokyo Campus, December 24, 2018

     Sundari is numb in the wake of what they’ve all witnessed. They all are, because the battle did not end in victory for either side. Satoru lives to fight another day, but so too does Sukuna.

     “We should strike at him now, while he’s injured!” Kusakabe grouses, breaking the warbling tension in the air. Sundari is silent.

     “There’s no telling if we can even beat him as he is, now,” Utahime argues. “And with Gojo injured, we’ve lost one of our biggest advantages over him.”

     Kusakabe sucks his teeth. “His daughter is with us, isn’t she? And according to Gojo isn’t she just as powerful?”

     Sundari can’t hear them. She’s staring at the blank screens on the wall, watching as Satoru limps off the battlefield, away from the bloodstain where her mother once lay. There’s a loud buzzing in her ears, high pitched and keening.

     The room goes silent again and all eyes turn to her.

     She blinks slowly and regards all of them.

     “I’ll go,” she says, and her voice sounds hollow to her ears. “And if I’m not back before a reasonable amount of time, assume I’m dead.”

     She turns and leaves, but not before running into Satoru in the courtyard. He staggers a little, and there’s a scar on his arm where he’s healed it from being severed. He takes one look at Sundari, and he understands.

     “Sundari,” he says, coming to her, drawing her into his embrace. If he has no energy for little else, he will find it for this. “I didn’t know…”

     Sundari shuts all four of her eyes tightly, swallowing the lump in her throat. She can’t afford to think of that, right now.

     “I have to go, Satoru,” she whispers, not trusting her voice to be any higher than this. Satoru holds her tightly, as if he seeks to keep her here, but she knows that he almost died this day. A rare occurrence for one such as him.

     “I know,” he says back, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Be careful.”

     “Do you think you have the energy to…” she ventures. Satoru blinks and then immediately understands.

     “Yeah…” he breathes. “Yeah, I can.”

     He makes a circle around Sundari, painting the sutra of teleportation around her. He knows where Sukuna is, and he hopes he can get Sundari close enough to make her journey easier.

     “Good luck,” he says to her. “I love you.”

     “I love you too,” she says as he claps his hands together and she vanishes, leaving a small crater where she once stood.

     Satoru continues his journey inside, welcomed by his students, but feeling the sour taste of failure in his mouth. He only hopes Sundari can succeed where he’s failed. He can only hope vengeance doesn’t cloud her judgment.

     A foolish thing, to hope against hope. But he has faith in his goddess.

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© 2024 Hajara Asiri. Do NOT copy, translate, plagiarize, repost anywhere without permission [reblogging posts is okay]. This includes copying my masterlist format or feeding ANY of my writing to the uninspired AI garbage machines. I only upload on Tumblr, AO3, and FFN. Title and footer banners by me. Dividers and support by @cafekitsune.

☕️ Member of the @pixelcafe-network.

[burlveneer-music]

The universe has graced us with a new Painkiller album - Samsara, released today on Tzadik

Thirty-three years after their first meeting, Samsara is a spectacular reunion of three of the world's most extreme musical explorers—John Zorn, Bill Laswell, and Mick Harris. Originally formed in 1991, PainKiller is a legendary trio that forged a completely unique language blending jazz, metal, grindcore, ambient, dub, and so much more. Recording again for the first time in over a quarter century, these three master musicians have come up with an intense new musical direction. Mick Harris, performing on his trademark electronics, has created a rich tapestry of beats and sounds that have inspired Laswell and Zorn to some exciting new heights. Samsara presents three old friends exploring some bold new sounds.

[yuuka-chan-twst]

It's honestly a fact that twst mc is overall better then the om!MC,

1: the unfair treatment is a proof tbh,om MC gets a nice and fancy life,books,money, education while staying in devildom,where as twst MC has to live in a rundown building with a fire breathing monster,little-to-no money,Ghosts,and gets turned into a janitor,is called magicless,and insulted by cast on various occasions.

2: diavolo Is a nice man,he helped MC get through devildom life,gave her money etc etc,is generous,where as the asshole Crowley, doesn't care for MC,makes her do all the work,and blackmails them about their living conditions to get his work done,he literally left MC to die in scarabia arc while he was at vacation..

3: obey me is harem game,meaning things will only be tough for MC during first few chapters of the story,after that it's all love and Harem,nothing new,where as twst mc has to deal with overblot every damn time,fixed riddle's overblot?Now Leona's turn!did his too?now azul!and the samsara continues...

4:obey me MC is indeed female.... bet you didn't knew that huh?MC's canon/default name in game and manga is ibuki and yuki!both extremely used names in Japan,for girls.

Where as yuu/mc has no appearance,in manga however we have different types of MC every arc!Male badass MC,female badass MC,Chubby and short MC,Insecure MC(all chapters aren't out yet so all of them aren't leaked yet.)

5: strength!do I even need to explain??Om MC(canon)by themselves can't do anything,they rely on pacts and their harem.

Twst mc,in the manga and game is confirmed to be strong,they beat up guys from Savannahclaw(beastmen),and they went as far as fighting overblots by RAW STRENGTH,and they won.

6:IQ!

Twst mc is stated to be smart,as they didn't needed azul's godly guide to pass in exam and still managed to pass,their leaders skills,And they figured out azul's unique magic loophole before Leona,who is one of the smartest and cunning people in twst.

Om MC is constantly overshadowed by other characters,they aren't stupid,but not too great,they SHOULD know that brothers started acting different towards them after the find out they are lilith's descendant...they forgave BELPHIE a MURDERER,wtf??and belphegor got now consequences of his actions..

Om MC is having time of their life fucking Demons,where as twst mc just wants to go home,atleast om MC gets to go to human world and visit their family,Twst MC haven't seen their family since so long,neither is Crowley finding a way for them..

Over ratings??

Om Mc 5/10

Not a bad MC but if they are making an insert character they should make it appearence-less.

Twst mc:9.9/20

Good character,but is used alot by that ass man Crowley....

[asksythe]

Since it's been a couple years I feel fine to ask, garden of the gods isn't entirely dead right?

Don't need a date because I know you got stuff, just wanted to make sure it's still alive.

Sorry for pestering you.

Oh hey! Good morning!

Yes, From the Garden of Gods and its spinoff story are alive. That said, I don't want to give people false hope. I know there are people who have followed this sleepy blog of mine for ten years and counting.

You probably already saw the prose version of Clan War, so you know the story beats and ideas are alive and well in my head. But as you yourself put it, life and work get in the way. I can't write for my hobby if I'm busy writing to pay bills.

Plus... I can't say I look fondly on a lot of post-Inuyasha developments. It's changed my feelings a fair bit for the story and for Kagome.

I always want to return to FtGoG and complete it, but I doubt I will have the time and space to do so until fairly far in the future. It might be a project for my retirement years 😅. I'm gonna be one of those cool fanfic grannies!!! I'm kinda halfway there already!

Neither here nor there, but today, I finally managed to convince/wheedle/cajole/push/drag @erimies to resurrect her Naruto fic, Clan of Samsara!!!!

Woooot!!!

[herrscherofmagic]

The more I think about it, the more convinced I am that an Eden expy would be perfect for HSR.

Beauty... What is your definition of beauty? Did you have it? Did the old me have it?

TL;DR: Eden's a HI3rd character with themes/motifs around music, beauty, elegance, and so on. I think it would be cool to see an Eden expy in Honkai: Star Rail :)

Slightly longer TL;DR: Eden is a character whose story revolves around the meaning of beauty in an ugly world, a world in which terrible things happen to good people, in which the greatest and bravest heroes of humanity fail to save the day. In spite of this, even as the last cities of Earth crumbled to dust, Eden still held steadfast on her belief, and she had faith that even though her era is now fading away, the new era of humanity would "script their own fate and sing their own songs."

So I've seen a fair bit of discussion about expys on the HSR subreddit from time to time, and I figured I'd have a go at this with my own post discussing a pre-existing Hoyoverse character I'd like to see in HSR someday!

This post is mostly aimed at an HSR audience so I've written it in a way that should be understandable even without any prior knowledge of HI3rd, but fellow HI3rd peeps might enjoy it too :)

The thought of this came to me when I was playing HI3rd earlier, because when I was looking at Eden's signature weapon, I was thinking "wow, I forgot how beautiful that was" and then it hit me- one of Eden's core themes as a character is Beauty, making her a perfect candidate to be a future Pathstrider of the Path of Beauty! Whether part of the Knights of Beauty or part of a different faction or even walking this path on her own.

There's going to be some light spoilers for HI3rd's story, but nothing that spoils major story beats. Eden is a character from the Previous Era, meaning most of her story takes place in the form of archives and records of the past. This post is pretty much all backstory, and I won't discuss any important "secrets of the past" meaning any big plot twists should remain unspoiled.

So if you're ambivalent or unconcerned about HI3rd spoilers, I'd say it should be okay to proceed, but if you want to play it safe then you should probably return to this post later. All of this is lore from the Elysian Realm, so if you're already familiar with that then there won't be any spoilers at all :)

That being said, this post does contain some pretty heavy content. Nothing particularly graphic or violent, but there is discussion of death and trauma so please keep this in mind!

Some quick context, to start with:

HI3rd's story takes place on Earth, and in this setting there have been multiple "past eras". Over the course of a civilization's development, powerful apocalyptic beings called "Herrschers" appear and wreck havoc upon the world. When the final Herrscher, the Herrscher of Finality*, descends upon the Earth it removes all trace of the current existing civilization... or whatever remains of it. Over the course of 50,000 years a new civilization develops in its place until someday Finality returns once more and the samsara repeats.

Eden is a character belonging to the Previous Era (PE), which is the civilization immediately preceding the Current Era (CE), which is the present-day setting of HI3rd.

*disclaimer: this Finality is not related to the Path of Finality. It's a matter of translation, since the original text uses different characters.

Eden was living a pretty great life- she was a superstar and she was filthy rich, with global tours and widespread fame. In fact, several of the other major characters of the Previous Era (such as Kevin and Su) were fans of her music! Singing, playing instruments, she could do it all. Naturally, she was a fervent supporter of the arts.

Despite this, Eden was still living a "normal" life- a life in which she was blissfully unaware of the looming threat of Honkai. She became painfully aware of it when disaster struck during a concert of hers in Sydney (the PE version of it, of course). During this concert but elsewhere in the city, the 7th Herrscher awoke: the Herrscher of Fire. Almost immediately the entire city was engulfed in raging fires. According to some sources, even the entire continent of Australia was destroyed, but this may have been retconned so take it with a grain of salt.

Eden was (un)fortunate enough to survive this disaster, being saved by one of the former Fire MOTH soldiers that was under the leadership of the person that became the Herrscher of Fire. Though Eden survived and still retained her public image and wealth, there was no returning to her past life. She ended up learning about the organization Fire MOTH, humanity's leading force fighting against the threat of Honkai. While she kept her usual public image, she would also use her wealth to help support MOTH.

The past is no more, but I can still remember this moment. This is what I can do right now.

Over time Eden grew to become a more active member of MOTH, until someday even she would end becoming a soldier herself. She witnessed the toll of war as fewer and fewer soldiers returned from battle and as the survivors became increasingly worn and weary. Though many people knew of her music and appreciated it, as the war went on Eden realized even her music had its limits to how much it could help people. Because of this, Eden chose to volunteer for a program that would give her the strength to fight alongside the rest of MOTH.

One of MOTH's many programs to fight Honkai was the MANTIS project: augmenting humans with the DNA of Honkai Beasts, granting them tremendous power. If they survived the Meta-Morph surgery. Eden underwent this program and survived, placing her as part of an elite force with the strength to fight the Herrschers head-on.

Plus she got a sick pair of guns! so that's pretty neat ^.^

Unfortunately, we know how this story ends. We call it the Previous Era precisely because it ended. Even humanity's greatest heroes couldn't stop the crushing power of Finality.

Eden would not live to see the next era of humanity.

With this summarized backstory of Eden in mind, I'd like to share a few archive entries from HI3rd, featuring Eden. I was originally going to try and summarize and discuss these lore entries myself, but I think it'd be best to keep my thoughts to a minimum and provide the full text instead, so anyone reading this can think about it for themselves and come to their own conclusions instead of taking my word as law.

First, we have one of the records discussing the events of the awakening of the 7th Herrscher. Do note that I snipped out a portion of this archive to shorten it and reduce spoilers, so it's not the complete version found in-game.

Another part of Eden's backstory I want to mention is the way Eden interacted with another major member of Fire MOTH, Dr. Mobius.

Mobius is a pretty complicated character, because while she seems to be a straightforward "mad scientist" type of character, there's a lot of nuance to her behavior and attitude. It's difficult to sum it up, but in this case I'll focus on how other people perceive her: very negatively.

Dr. Mobius' work was groundbreaking for genetics and biology, and her projects (including the MANTIS project as well as early versions of Project Stigma) were crucial in fighting Honkai. However, she was incredibly intimidating and her experiments were... questionable, to say the least. Cold and calculating, not someone to inflict needless cruelty but also someone who doesn't let silly little things such as "ethics" get in the way of progress.

Interestingly, Eden is probably one of the few people that was capable of interacting with Dr. Mobius in a positive way. Many people found it difficult to work under the supervision of Dr. Mobius and most would go out of their way to avoid her, but it seems that Eden was not one of them. This scene in particular is a good example of this:

At this point I think Eden's theme of Beauty is quite evident, and I could probably cut the post short here. But there's one final part of Eden's story I'd like to share, and since it's a scene involving Mobius it builds on the previous entry quite neatly. Since I'm going to end the post with this scene, I'll give my final thoughts first!

I don't really think it's worth worrying too much about expys and whatnot, because ultimately the important thing is whether a given character fits the story, not whether they look like a past character. If we get a "HSR Kiana" or an "HSR Kiana", what matters is the way they fit into this setting. The setting of Aeons and Paths, of a diverse set of factions vying for power and influence across the universe, and how the Nameless will cross paths with this character.

But I wanted to make this post anyways because I feel like Eden's story is greatly underappreciated, and since it has such a neat connection with the Path of Beauty.

Eden's theme of "Beauty" is not just about Eden being a beautiful person, nor is about her beautiful music. To me, it's her understanding of humanity and the way that the arts allow us to connect with each other. It's her ability to reach out and connect with a person as cold and calculating as Mobius. It's just as Eden says, "something that makes people happy, guides the way, and sparks hope."

Just something to keep in mind when reading this final archive entry. I've also re-attached the same image from the start of the post, since I think it takes on a much more powerful meaning with this scene in mind.

For those who're curious, the first & last image of the post are a still shot from the credits of the HI3rd animation "Because of You", which is a very beautiful but also spoiler-filled animated short

[darkdevasofdestruction]

Chapter 14 - Goddess of the Luo River

It was already a week before New Year's, and Kitsune's days were numbered on the fingers of both hands. It was maddening the Demon Prince, terrifying him for the first time - That he will experience a loss that would leave his heart shattered in pieces forever. He was afraid that, if Kitsune died, he would be incapable of falling in love again - As profoundly as he loves Kitsune - And he would become just like his father.

He did not want to become like his father.

They celebrated a weird version of Christmas a few days prior, but for Kitsune it hardly meant anything. She couldn't fully understand the meaning of Christmas, not the birth of the Biblical figure of Jesus Christ and what it means to the religious Christianity cult; For most people, Christmas wasn't a religious festivity, however, it just meant a reason to celebrate and exchange gifts - Though even that was lost of the fox lady. She hardly had any Grimm to buy anyone gifts - So she went with Mammon to buy gifts - Generic, low-cost Christmas things that meant nothing to her; A scarf, a snowy globe, some mittens - Of course, the Greed Avatar was the happiest with his money gift.

On the other note, Kitsune received some expensive gifts - She was surprised she received anything at all though; It was quite sad - But with time, he was sure she will be able to understand the spirit of gifting to your loved ones. A nice outfit, a rare book, a lovely make up set, a gorgeous pair of shoes - But she couldn't understand the value of money in her own world, let alone in the Devildom. She'd lived through too many eras and currencies.

"Are you all ready?" Kitsune asked as everyone gathered in the House of Lamentation. It was the 'Day of Death' ritual she had to do every year at the shrine - A celebration of death and appreciation of life - A day where the souls of the deceased can roam the earth once more, and mingle with the living - A custom only she could do. 

As everyone affirmed they were ready to go, Diavolo teleported them to the human world. Everyone was dressed appropriately, elegant as never before; The priestesses guided them to the long banquet table, serving them wine, sake and meals of all kinds - All that while watching Kitsune perform, in front of a crowd of humans. They were not allowed to take photographs or film anything; They were a very select few, who would brave the wilderness just to see their beloved for a few hours.

The Sun was about to set down, and the festivity was to begun. Kitsune now stood in the very middle of the stage, looking down with perfect stillness at the people present. "In a festival where we celebrate life - We must also learn to appreciate death." she began. "When one life ends, another begins - And when one begins, another ends - Such is the circle of life that none is exempt from." what a harsh reality that must be for humans, the demons thought to themselves; Though perhaps this idea of a circle of life - A Samsara - The Afterlife and Reincarnation proved to make death easier for them; Death wasn't the end of life, but just another journey. 

"From the time we first cry into this world, after crawling out of our mother's womb, to the time we last take breath, and our remains are burnt, ashes scattered into the wind, to grant us our lasting freedom - We must celebrate life, in all its forms, from the littlest, to the biggest, oldest, and youngest, plant, beast or human, oni, youkai, kami, gashadokuro, yurei, and everything in between." the demon Lords were familiar to some of the entities mentioned, thanks to her extensive care in choosing their Hyakki Yako costumes for the Demon Parade. "In this day, we are blessed to communicate with the skies - Share our messages to those who are no longer amongst us - And they, too, will caress our faces once more." at once, from inside her sleeve, Kitsune took out that magical fan of hers, and with the beat of the instruments, she began dancing - The moves were unlike anything they've ever seen - Not that they've witnessed many such ritual dances, let alone fan dances, or anything that wasn't from the Devildom. - Diavolo, like the others, felt trapped in her trance, and he was sure, all of them were enchanted, one way or another. Her moves were fluid and each movement held perfect discipline, to create a most outstanding show.

As the Sun finally set completely, Kitsune snapped close the fan, driving it back inside the sleeve, only to retrieve something else - It was a her Gohei wand, with the handle a crimson red, and an a golden crest on top - It was the Sasarindo, as Shingen informed, a symbol of the Minamoto clan, the imperial bloodline. From it, two rows of flowing ropes, adorned with paper squares glued together, painted from white, to gold, in perfect gradient - It acted akin to a wand to her, Solomon thought to himself, as he watched the way she danced with it, only to throw it up in the sky, and with a foreign incantation, looking up like a shaman praying to nature's elements - Mystical lights that looked like ghosts and wisps started illuminating the night sky, brighter than the stars, as if the souls of the deceased were descending from Heaven - And as the wand fell back in her grasp, the lights disappeared. 

"Let us celebrate, together, as brothers and sisters!" the stars were invisible, as large, colourful fireworks bombed all across the sky, all the way, until you couldn't see the horizon anymore - Intricate shapes of all kinds, and they dances, and swayed around, depicting stories and folklore that though they couldn't understand, they still could appreciate the grandeur of it.

The luminous wisps that looked like fireflies became corporeal - Elderly, children, men and women - They all reunited with some living person from the audience.  Mammon picked on an elderly man, barely holding himself up with his cane, smiling warmly as the spirit of his young, beautiful wife engulfed him into a hug - He felt like crying, realising the elderly man would crawl the whole dangerous and perilous wilderness, just for a chance to his the woman he loves once more time before they are reunited.

Luke started sobbing into Simeon's chest, pointing towards a child looking very much like him, brought here by his grandparents, was weeping and hugging his phantasmal parents who died young. They would hug him, kiss him and listen to all of his stories - He just started school, and he loved learning - He wanted to become an astronaut, so that one day, he would be able to visit them among the stars.

Solomon found himself gritting his teeth as he watched a teenage girl nervously approach the spirit of her grandmother, holding a worn recipe book in her hands. The grandmother had passed away before she could teach her granddaughter how to cook the family’s traditional dishes, but now, the girl knelt beside her spirit, carefully following her grandmother’s gentle guidance as they prepared a meal together—one filled with love, tradition, and the bittersweet joy of a reunion that transcended time.

Levi sniffed, hugging himself with his tail as he noticed a elderly soldier casually hanging out with his teenage best friend and comrade - A true friendship that lasted for decades as he's always wished for, a loyalty and comradeship he's not experienced even when he was the Navy Captain; The living was wearing the old war uniform proudly, to show his respect and love for his fallen friend. The man held a box of old, weathered comic books that they used to read together, their shared love for heroes and adventures alive once more. They spent the night flipping through the pages, laughing at the same jokes, reminiscing about the imaginary worlds they had once explored together, and for a moment, the years that had separated them melted away.

Beel, for once, wasn't unable to eat; The infinite void in his stomach was temporarily filled as he saw a man kneeling before the spirit of his younger brother, who had died suddenly in an accident. The man held out a small, worn baseball glove, the same one they used to play catch with as children, and the brother’s spirit grinned, taking the glove in his ethereal hands, the two of them tossing a ball back and forth like they used to, reconnecting over a simple game that meant the world to them both.

Asmodeus also had to cling onto Solomon and carefully wipe away the tears - But not the perfectly applied make up - As he saw a living man, on his knees, before his heavily pregnant wife... She had died, along with their child, before she could give birth... And the man was hugging her belly, sobbing inconsolably and asking for forgiveness.

Simeon felt a pang of pain in his heart as he watched as a group of siblings, all now adults, gathered around the spirit of their mother, who had passed away when they were still children. They each took turns sharing stories of their lives, telling her about the families they had built, the careers they had pursued, and the way they had carried her lessons and love with them through all these years. The mother’s spirit smiled, her presence a reminder that she had never truly left them, and she kept kissing their foreheads and cheeks, just as she did to them as children.

Lucifer found himself deeply moved by a woman who sat alone, holding the spirit of a withered rose in her hands. The rose had been a gift from her late husband, given to her on their first anniversary, and though it had died long ago, the spirit of the flower bloomed with the moonlight once more in her hands, its fragrance bringing back memories of the love they had shared, a love that still lived on, even beyond death. Satan watched quietly as a young mother, her eyes heavy with sleepless nights, cradled the spirit of her infant child in her arms. The baby had passed away in its sleep, and now, for just one night, she sang a lullaby that only the two of them knew, tears mingling with her song as the spirit cooed softly, comforted by the familiar melody.

Diavolo found himself deeply moved as he watched a man kneeling before the spirit of his estranged father, who had died before they could reconcile. The man held a bundle of letters - Apologies he had written but never sent. The father’s spirit reached out, and as they embraced, the man felt the weight of years of regret lift, replaced by a profound sense of peace. They spent the night talking, finally saying all the words that had gone unsaid in life, finding the closure they both needed. Would this be how he and his own father end up?

EvenBarbatos paused in his duties, his usual passive visage holding a bittersweet smile as he watched an elderly woman, frail and bent with age, as she danced slowly in the moonlight with the spirit of her long-lost lover. The two had been separated by war decades ago, never to reunite in life, but now they moved together in perfect harmony, reliving the joy of their youth as if no time had passed at all.

That old woman was Aiko and her husband who died in war.

As the servants took care of the attendants, Kitsune returned back to the shrine, where she was able to change into a dancing outfit, but she hadn't returned to her guests - She remained in the middle of the court, looking up into the dark sky. The smoke from the fireworks had dissipated, and the stars were twinkling as powerful as ever.

"I never imagined even demons could cry." Aiko's elderly voice resounded among the guests, startling them. "Ah, of course, forgive me - I forgot some of you were angels... And wizards too."

"Darling, don't tease them so much." her husband's smile was dazzling and charming, Diavolo noted - No wonder she loved him for so many decades.

"I am glad to see you again, Aiko. You are happy, just as you said." the Prince smiled at the joyful elderly woman.

"I had been waiting 67 years to reunite with my beloved, Little Lordling. Of course I am happy." the husband gathered her in his arms, a tear escaping his eye as he kissed her forehead.

"And I have missed you every day, looking down at you from the skies." his voice was so soft and tender that it made Asmo and Mammon hug each other and cry like babies. They were so weak when it came to romance.

"Lady Aiko - Why is no one going to Kitsune?" surprisingly, it was Satan asking. He remembered her distress during the game - Surely, she would have at least one person to want to see her... Right?

"We are a bunch of elderly ladies, Little Demon." Aiko said, pointing towards the spirits of the mikos who slowly gathered around the fox lady. "The Princess raised us all as her own children - We owe her everything." she smiled gently, looking at the poor fox lady sobbing as her children embraced her and expressed their gratitude. "We had nothing - That's why she took us in. Some of us were were refugees, some lost our husbands, children or family and had nowhere to go... Some were born here... Others came to seek a change... But whatever the reason for us being here... The Princess nurtured us as if we were her own children, and taught us everything she knew... History, language, culture, art, literature, poetry, war, spirituality... Everything."

"A mother should not live to see her children dying." Simeon found himself bitterly speaking.

"Quite so, Little Angel. The poor Princess experienced far too much loss... She should not be lingering longer amongst the living. She should take her place among equals that she could cherish forever." the priestesses vanished, as if to push Kitsune towards her guests.

"Kitsune, you were so beautiful!" Asmo chimed as sweetly and enthusiastic as ever.

"Yeah, you were so cool! I'm jealous on how cool you were!" Levi joined also.

"Those fireworks were awesome!" Mammon said also.

"I thought her all about gun powder." said a foreign voice that everyone jump in surprise - A man with silvery-white hair and a snake-like smile had appeared just to her side; To think even Kitsune would be caught off guard. "Well - I suppose I can only be glad the apprentice overshadowed her master... Not that you'd shoot your musket better than me."

"Mitsuhide!" the fox lady chirped - A fire fox and a silver fox were staring at each other.

"So I was called!" he turned towards the feast with a mock bow. "To think you'd replace us so easily - My, little fox, you wound me!"

"W-Wait, no -- It is not like that -- I could never --" the stupefied woman stuttered over her words so cutely; Few times anyone witnessed her so speechless.

"What did I say about teasing the Princess?!" from behind her, a tall man, more burly, with messy brown hair and a frustrated expression on his face, like that of an exasperated mother scolding her misbehaving children. "Mitsuhide, back off!"

"Ah, it's Lord Nobunaga's lapdog... Shouldn't you be looking to become a doormat by now?" the silver haired man sniggered elusively, enjoying the raise he gets out of the other. Hideyoshi was so easy to work up!

"Will you two stop this charade already? You are making fools of yourself." this man was blond with shorter messy hair, dressed in autumnal colours and an apathetic look on his face. 

"Lord Toyotomi, Lord Akechi, please stop your fighting. You are upsetting the princess." came a softer reply from a grey-haired man, smaller, but no less elegant. It was Ishida Mitsunari.

"Ieyasu..." Kitsune threw her arms around her best friend; "My friend, how I have missed you so!" it was Ieyasu and his wife and confidante, Lady Saigo, with whom she spent most of her time after Nobunaga's death - He was young, intelligent and interested in medicine; Likewise, Lady Saigo was well-read in history, politics and war, but also talented in arts of all kinds. She had the best of times spending time with them... And nurturing their children. It was then that she learnt how to take care of people - The influence was a good one, as the priestesses said.

"What about me?!" came a loud, brash yet playful voice - It almost sounded like Mammon whining for attention.

"Shut up, cyclops!" both Kitsune and Ieyasu snapped at him, only to look at each other and stifle a chuckle.

The tall man with long black hair and a single beautiful blue eyes was Date Masamune, the One-Eyed Dragon of Oshu. He was the only trusted friend that Kitsune and Ieyasu had while building the Tokugawa Shogunate; He was wearing a disheveled blue outfit and a black eyepatch over his missing left eye - He had taken it out by himself when he was 14 and afflicted with smallpox; Truly, he wouldn't have cared about it, but Ieyasu warned him an enemy might grab his dangling eye and incapacitate him. What a menace.

"N'aww, c'mon, lemme join the hug!" Masamune threw his arms around Kitsune and Ieyasu, squishing them together.

"Lord Date, please back away. That is no way to treat a Princess." Mitsunari sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Well, Mitsunari, don't you know? When you see something cute, you have to squish them to death. Perhaps that is what Masamune is trying to do." Mitsuhide sniggered under his breath.

"Masamune would never hurt Princess Kitsune and Lord Tokugawa." Hideyoshi got in Mitsuhide's face, having a verbal altercation again.

"That's right - I would never!" Masamune let out a boastful laugh - And then started pulling on her tails, wrapping himself in them. "But I do like a nice scarf!"

"Hey - My tails are not scarfs - Leave them alone, Oni-brain!" much to the demons' shock, Kitsune started chasing Masamune around as if playing tag - He was the youngest of the Sengoku Lords she befriended so intimately - And it was showing. They were behaving like two children, Mitsuhide and Hideyoshi were arguing with each other, and Mitsunari and Ieyasu were trying to pull them away. They weren't unlike the Demon Lords in their childishness.

"Princess Kitsune has forgotten her manners as usual - How quaint!" Aiko laughed heartily. "Your old mentor would have your head for this misbehaving!"

Eventually, they all sat down at the table, wining and dining merrily, sharing stories of all kinds - Like one silly family to the other. Eventually, some of the younger priestesses came by, and they also got social and friendly with the Lord on both sides. Once they were drunk enough, they started chanting Kitsune's name, their alcohol cups up in the air. 

"That's right - Haven't seen Princess Kitsune's dancing in a while!" Masamune threw his arm around her shoulders, making her hunch from the sudden pressure. The ogre was drunk as hell.

"Oh, I'd love to see Kitsune dance! I bet she's a lovely dancer!" Luke was the first to chirp up.

"You should hear her singing, little mouse~." the silver fox chuckled, watching the chihuahua blush and protest at his nickname. "Like a precious nightingale."

"How come you never sang for us, Kitsune?!" Asmo whined playfully. 

"Come on, sing for us." Simeon urged her.

"You are awful - All of you - You know that, right?" the poor girl sighed pitifully, getting up from her seat.

One of the priestesses brought the zither to Ieyasu to play for the Princess - His wife taught him well - And thus, Kitsune started singing in a voice as mellow and sweet as a ripe fruit - And her dance was as graceful as a swan. The guests were marveling at her beauty, while those familiar with her endeavours were cheering on her, equally mesmerised by her enchanting magic.

She is lightsome as a startled swan-goose, As graceful as a roaming dragon; Her lovely complexion outshines the autumn chrysanthemum, Her radiance surpasses the springtime pine.

She is as nebulous as the moon concealed in light clouds, Gracefully gliding, as snow spun by a flowing wind. Gazing at her from afar, She shines like the sun rising above the rosy mists of dawn;

Observing her close by, She is as luminous as a lotus emerging from clear ripplets. ...

Her singing and Ieyasu's zither playing all stopped in unison at the sound of a flute taking charge, dominating the scene. Everyone knew who he was, without a need for introduction. Lord Oda Nobunaga wore a serene expression as he played the bamboo flute for Kitsune to play to his tune.

In perfect sync, the Princess danced around him with the beauty of a pink lotus and the grace of the Phoenix Empress. The universe had created them for each other, only to rip them apart.  Her smile was wide, like that of a woman in love, and she was glowing magnificently.

Their outstanding performance soon came to an end, and the two soulmates looked into each other's eyes so deeply and full of love. He wore a confident smile on his face. Nobunaga waved his hand at Ieyasu to play the melody for the only song he knew to be danced in pair - That of the valiant Prince going to war, and the Princess rushing after him, worried - She was struck down, and died in his arms, leaving him all alone, with his only comfort being the bloodshed of the battlefield.

It wasn't much unlike their own story, they often thought, as Nobunaga rose her up with ease, spinning around; Her flowy dress and sleeves danced around with herself, like a butterfly on a peony. Every move, every caress, every look their shared - They were all special.

Everyone applauded them - The dance of two soulmates fated to never be together - Then allowed them to settle at the feast, where they would converse more. Nobunaga was eccentric and talkative, yet his words were as wise and truthful as always. He earned easily everyone's respect - And poor Diavolo had to see the love of his life clinging onto his arm, her head on his shoulder - Will he ever earn her love? Or will she remain pining for this admirable Lord? 

They stood around the table having a merry time until morn, where the Sun was beginning to illuminate the sky; Once the stars started disappearing, so did the wisps. It seemed to Diavolo that Kitsune might have forgotten this bliss wasn't permanent - Though he would have loved nothing more than to see her as happy as this night... Even if he wasn't the cause of her joy.

"It was an honour meeting all of you. Be well." Mitsunari was the first to disappear.

"N'ahh, what a killjoy! Mitsunari has always been so boring - Always glues to that GO table of his... How lame!" Masamune groaned loudly, drunk out of his wits.

"At least he is not as dumb as a rock - Cyclops." Ieyasu next to her sighed dramatically.

"Exactly --" Kitsune turned to her Shogun friend - But he wasn't there anymore. Her heart began panicking fast-paced. "No... Not yet, no... Not again... Please... Do not go..."

"What a cutiepie!" Mitsuhide hummed, getting up and bending at the waist until he reached her eye-level. "You're too cute to mourn the dead for so long, Princess. Lighten up." he booped her nose and disappeared into smokes before the fox lady could reach out to him.

"No, guys, please -- Stop it!" she was then tugged by her tails; Masamune held a wide, boyish grin on his face, and he waved at her, fading away into nothingness. "Not again... Stop... STOP! STOP!" distress was evident on her face as her friends had died once again before her very eyes - And they will continue to die again, and again, and again, until she is no more. The pain of loneliness was harsh and sharp; A twisting stab right to the heart.

"Do not mourn us, Princess. We are content where we are. And we are looking after you - Always." Hideyoshi patted her hair, like an older brother comforting his sobbing little sister before leaving for war, never to return.

"This always happens." Nobunaga sighed solemnly. "Did I not tell you that, if you start crying like that again, I will stop coming to see you?" his comment made the fox lady shake, immediately clinging onto his kimono desperately.

"Please don't leave me. Not again." her soft pleas were in vain. "Take me with you."

"You never change, do you? Always a cute cry-baby." he let out a low exhale of amusement, raising her hand to wipe away her flowing tears. "When I died, I told you to find a reason to live - And keep on living. Shatter the heavens, reach Godhood and reign over the weak." he held her tightly into his chest, caressing her hair as she sobbed uncontrollably. "You are a woman worthy of being a Queen - So become a Queen." he continued. "Stop crying over a dead man, and move on. You have found a true man worthy of your affections." he placed a kiss on the crown of her head. "He is a good man. Trust him, the way you trusted me."

With one unexpected move, Nobunaga cupped her face and brought her into a deep, loving kiss. "You will always be the only woman I ever loved, Kitsune -- But you must forget me and move on." such a bold, truthful declaration of love shattered Diavolo's heart. Lord Oda Nobunaga was a respectable man in every sense of the word - He perfectly understood why Kitsune was so in love with him... Because he was equally in love with her. So in love, in fact, that he was willing to let her go, just to see her happy. What a man. 

Nobunaga slowly pried himself away from the girl's clutches, and walked towards the middle of the court - And he uttered a most eccentric phrase - A phrase that those who were stuck in the Sengoku no Kokoro game remembered well and vividly. 

 "WORSHIP ME! DIE FOR YOUR CRIME OF DEFYING THE HOUSE OF ONE HUNDRED DEMONS, AND REPENT IN THE AFTERLIFE! THERE ARE NONE BEFORE ME, AND WILL BE NONE AFTER ME! I AM THE DEMON KING OF THE SIXTH HEAVEN, ODA NOBUNAGA!" 

Kitsune ran as fast as she could, throwing herself at him - That smile, that expression, that face - Forever engraved into her retina - And she passed right through his smokes, tumbling to the ground, her hands grasping into the air to catch the fumes, yet holding nothing in the end. Every year... Just smoke and mirrors.

With a desperate, raw cry into the skies, Kitsune bolted out of the shrine grounds, and into the forests, away from anyone that could find her.  To think that such a bittersweet night could end so tragically... None of the guests expected the degree of misery they experienced. Not to this degree, at least. Luke, especially, was the most confused and upset - Kitsune was so happy with that man, then he disappeared and she was so sad - He hated seeing Kitsune upset. She was very nice to him - Luke hoped she would never have to cry of sadness ever again...

But Simeon knew best, the torment of Kitsune's heart. The chaos and agony that she's been feeling for so many centuries... He could feel it all, a heavy pain that appears into his chest whenever she is around him - Thus is the extent of her sorrow.  Of course, Solomon lived for many centuries also, and he could relate well with her - The amount of people he loved that he had to watch wither away and die, while he remained young, beautiful and very much alive... It wasn't an easy existence, but he had to make the best out of what he got.

"Diavolo, I think we better wrap up for the day." Lucifer was the first to regain his senses, getting the Demon Prince's attention.

"Yes, of course." Diavolo got up from the table. "Lady Ayaka, thank you for your hospitality. It was a pleasure learning more about your customs. Humans are truly fascinating." Diavolo smiled at the new lady Kitsune put in charge. "Lucifer - Please bring everyone home." he needn't continue further; Everyone knew he was going to search for Kitsune.

"Lord Diavolo, please be patient with the Princess. She is... Very fragile - But she cares dearly for you." Ayaka implored the Lord, who merely smiled at her with reassurance.

"Don't worry - She is very dear to my heart also." thus, he took off into the mountains after her.

The mountains were wrapped in a veil of early morning mist, the air cold and crisp, yet filled with the scents of pine and earth. Diavolo trudged through the dense forest, his usually confident demeanor marred by an uncharacteristic tension. He had spent hours searching for Kitsune, guided only by the faint traces of her spiritual energy that lingered like whispers in the wind. He hadn't expected the forest to be a labyrinthine maze, trying hard to trap him, never to see the light of day again. Each step he took was heavy with the weight of fear—fear that he would be too late, that she would slip through his fingers like sand.

The landscape around him was both beautiful and foreboding, ancient trees towering above, their branches reaching out like the hands of forgotten gods. The path was treacherous, winding and narrow, yet Diavolo pressed on, driven by a desperation that gnawed at his very soul.

Finally, he found her.

Kitsune stood on the edge of a cliff, her figure a silhouette against the pale dawn light. The soft rustling of her kimono was the only sound in the stillness of the mountain, save for the distant call of a lone bird. She gazed out at the horizon, her back to him, seemingly lost in her own world—a world of memories, of love lost and love found, of pain and solace.

Diavolo approached her cautiously, his heart pounding in his chest. As he drew closer, the weight of her sorrow became palpable, an invisible force that pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him. He hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to say, how to comfort someone who had endured so much.

“Kitsune.” he finally called out, his voice gentle as always, as if to not scare a baby fawn.

She didn’t turn around immediately, but he saw the subtle stiffening of her shoulders, the way her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Slowly, she turned to face him, her eyes red and swollen from tears she had shed in solitude.

“Dia…” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Without another word, he closed the distance between them, his arms instinctively reaching out to her. Kitsune hesitated only for a second before she collapsed into his warm embrace, her body trembling as she buried her face in his broad chest. Diavolo held her tightly, one hand gently stroking her hair, the other wrapped protectively around her waist.

For a long time, they stayed like that, the silence between them filled with unspoken words, with shared pain and love. Diavolo could feel her heartache, her struggle to reconcile her love for him with the loss she still felt for Nobunaga. Kitsune loved deeply - And he was privileged to be on the receiving end of that also.

“You don’t have to carry this burden alone.” Diavolo murmured into her hair, his voice soothing. “I’m here for you, Kitsune. I always will be.”

Kitsune pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Her eyes were filled with tears, but there was a determination in them that took Diavolo by surprise. “Dia...” she began, her voice overflowing with emotion. “I… I’ve tried to move on, to let go of the past, but Nobunaga… He was... He was my everything... I can’t just forget him.”

Diavolo’s heart ached at her words, but he nodded, understanding. He knew, if he was in her position, he would have felt the same for a man as special as Nobunaga. “I know, my darling. I know.” he replied softly. “And I would never ask you to. Nobunaga will always have a special place in your heart." he reassured her he was sympathising with her - Diavolo had always been so patient and understanding of her, Kitsune often felt she was overstepping his love for her. "As long as you keep a special place for me also." 

Kitsune’s eyes widened, and for a moment, she looked as if she might break down again. Instead, she reached up, cupping his face in her hands. “Dia… I love you.” she confessed, her voice trembling. “I love you so much." she confessed dearly. "But it hurts… it hurts so much, because I still love him too... And I don't want to hurt you also with... This - This... Everything that I have become."

Diavolo felt his heart pounding against his chest; He couldn't see Kitsune so sad and conflicted, it physically hurt him. “Love isn’t something that diminishes, Kitsune.” he whispered, pressing his forehead against hers. “It’s something that grows. Your love for Nobunaga doesn’t take away from what we have. It only makes your love bigger, stronger.” he spoke sweetly to her. "You are one woman who cares so deeply for those she loves - And that love of yours can never dissipate, no matter how much you try. It is not a weakness, nor something you should run from. It is who you are, my love. It is what makes you - You."

Kitsune let out a shaky breath, her eyes searching his for any sign of doubt or hesitation, but all she found was love - A deep, unwavering love - Only for her. “I’m scared, Dia...” she admitted, her voice breaking. “Scared of losing you, of losing myself… Of everything.”

“You won’t lose me. Ever.” Diavolo vowed, his voice firm. “I’m not going anywhere, Kitsune." something in his words, in his tone, seemed to reach her. Kitsune closed her eyes and took a deep breath, as if drawing strength from his presence. Then, with a soft sob, she threw her arms around him, holding him as tightly as she could, as if afraid he might disappear if she let go.

"I don't want to die, Dia. I don't want to die." after so many months of her boldly admitting how she desired death above anything else - To just disappear from the face of the earth forever - She finally found her solace, her reason to live, her safe haven - Her soulmate. "I want to live forever, by your side. I don't wanna die - I want to be able to love you for the rest of my existence. I don't want to ever lose you, Dia. I love you so much - So much that I'd go crazy if I lost you too."

Diavolo held her just as tightly, his heart swelling with love and determination. He thawed away her icy shield, and allowed her to feel the sweet relief of love that he's been trying to offer for so long; The comfort and warmth of his warm embrace. 

As the first rays of sunlight broke through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the mountains, Diavolo whispered one last promise into Kitsune’s ear.

"I want to marry you, Kitsune."

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[izolyn]

Streaming Monster Hunter World at 8:30pm EST with @possessedscholar and @xenodile!

Man why do we keep losing to things right at the end of stream time.

Anyways we're at the end of Iceborne's story but Mr. Final Boss Monster beat us up last time so now it's time for GRUDGE MATCH 3: RETURN OF THE GRUDGE

something something have to clear the grudge to escape samsara? i'll be real I was hoping if I had to GRUDGE MATCH joke again it'd be a thunder monster so I could just use "electric boogaloo"

[big-nerd-boi]

Luhan the six eared macaque.

Kill the crown intro post.

The most infamous monkey with identity issues, the six eared macaque. The stone monkey who had disrupted the journey after Wukong left by beating the Tang monk unconscious, and stealing what was “rightfully” his own destiny.

But it wasn’t.

Killed by Sun Wukong, he awoke in Naraka; in a special little hell crafted by his own hands. The cuffs were tight, numbing around his arms and legs, even his neck. The chains held his limbs tight, keeping him immobile as frost built along his fur and crawled under his skin until his veins burst and his blood froze across his body. All the while the gaping hole in his chest bled, and ached, and his body rotted back on earth.

Luhan didn’t know how he got here. He had plenty of time to reflect after all, and yet he didn’t know how he ended up here- with all his power and cunning… he was beaten by the monkey of the mind.

He deserved it more! He had abandoned everything to make his own journey, including his own face for months- pretending to be someone else all to get those scrolls. He had been so close to tasting true immortality but that damned monk just had to reject his offer for water- to make things difficult!

How did he end up here? Alone, unable to hear anything but the frost on his skin and his chains clacking. It was terrifying only being able to hear that, not his own breath, not his own heartbeat.

He didn’t know how long he’d be stuck here, alone, malformed, an abomination. But he didn’t want to reincarnate! He didn’t want to be someone else, or worse… something else. He’d most likely be forced to become a plant or perhaps an animal. Something mindless, having to crawl his way to human over the course of lifetimes upon lifetimes.

He screamed.

A wordless cry from his stomach, anguish and rage mixing together until his eyes burned with tears.

This wasn’t supposed to be his fate. He heard his future and it wasn’t supposed to be this. He was supposed to be alive, to be happy. But it was a lie.

He had been alone for years.

Time passed so slowly in the realm of darkness, it felt like centuries. But it couldn’t have been, right? Surely if it had been that long he would’ve finally been given the chance to go back into samsara.

For the first time since his death, he heard a heartbeat.

No, heartbeats.

Two people entered his little slice of hell and spoke. His ears rang, their voices like thunder. He could barely understand them, his mind like putty from all the isolation.

But the bodhisattva had need of him, he didn’t know a bodhisattva of the name Avalokiteśvara. It didn’t matter he was being freed.

His cuffs were opened, and he took a deep- hollow breath. It didn’t fill his lungs. He didn’t have lungs.

His knees fell to the misty, cold floor- body crackling like a stone being thrown into a frozen river.

But the two men, one a humanoid with bull horns and hooves and the stench of smoke, and the other… a baboon. Blond and brown fur with eyes like the sunset.

They carried him out, carried him until the baboon couldn’t go any further. Luhan barely registered the confusion, not when he was so close to being alive again.

The red demon stopped, telling the baboon— Heng— to keep moving.

Luhan didn’t pay attention as he began to inch towards the river. The same one the Tang emperor fell into, bringing him back to life.

His limbs were stiff, ice and frost clinging to him. It hurt. It was agony. But he fell into the river, uncaring of the shouts for him to stop.

The wind is as howling in his ears, so many sounds flooding his ears including his own breath.

Shooting up, his head spun- his body ached, stiff as a board. But he was alive. He didn’t know where he was, but it was dark. Three people sat around him, all mediating.

The young gibbon.. had that staff. That iron rod that crushed his ribcage. Why did she have it?

The man near his head opened his eyes, and Luhan knew those eyes.

He knew this man, the bodhisattva.

He forgot form did not apply to enlightened beings, able to change themselves without a second thought. While he had to learn the hard way…

“Welcome back, Luhan. Are you ready to listen?”

———

Can you tell which one is older? / sarcasm

Right side is his “true” form! Left side is how he glamours himself to look! Bottom picture is just a list of points I didn’t quite know how to cover in the intro post!

Also a reminder that some of this information is subject to change as I continue to ready through journey to the west! Thank you for reading!!!