these are the flats but WOW I’m happy with this one!
This is Su-mi, a priestess who left her old home behind when she grew disgusted with their violence and now lives in the woods. She meets a demon who has been injured and despite her better judgement, she nurses him back to health. I’m sure you can imagine what happens next.
She’s Min-seok’s mother, though he can’t remember her.
Since @vicegrips-fr posted Liling’s glow up I figured I’d do the same for Shirane! Top is old, bottom is new. This one makes a lot more sense for him considering he runs his province and would mostly wear formal clothes and jewels.
Muromachi, trainer for Mushikai and Kiba, member of the Tenshi and overall pretty good guy if you can get past his bullying. The rest of his bio is here! <3
Naotora, head of the Miko (the spiritual leaders in Kasaiwari who focus on exorcism and healing) in Himikoro (the central province of Kasaiwari), and Takeko, the head of the Shinobi (the reclusive ninja order whose training is as mysterious as it is intensive) in Kazemori (the northern province of Kasaiwari).
Basically: I love my new girls so much like LOOK @ THEM
This one is an absolute doozy, clocking in at over 13,000 words. Not massively surprising considering she is the leader of Kasaiwari, but oof. Behold, the Descendant of Heaven, Empress Kuroharuhime Tenkubashi. You can read her full bio here, if you dare! <3
Notes: Chang’e finds himself as the sole survivor of his family. Warnings for descriptions of burning.
Chang’e wakes up to a barren wasteland of ash and death. The earth has been scorched to nothing, the lush grasses which once flowed for miles now replaced by a sheet of sheer black glass. Everything is gone, burned to atoms.
He struggles to raise himself up from where he’s sprawled prone, crying out when his arms collapse under him and his chin slams against the ground. The force of it stuns him and his vision swims. Still, he tries to take in his surroundings.
There’s things jutting out from the black glass, warped and twisted like uprooted trees, ashy with cooling flames. Trying to work out where he is makes his head throb. The last thing he remembers is coming home from yet another council meeting trying to save his clan’s reputation.
He can’t remember what happened after that.
This can’t be home. This cannot be the sprawling palace complex of the esteemed Wen Clan, rulers of the Southern Province, it can’t, because if it is then there is no one here except for him.
What did happen?
The wall finally collapses, engulfed by the roaring inferno as old wood gives in a hail of flaming splinters. The heat is so unbearable that it feels as if his skin is beginning to crisp, his natural fire resistance overwhelmed by the sheer volume of it all.
Regardless of that, his brother Tengfei tries to scramble over the fallen wall, biting out a pained moan as he forces himself to go forward. It was the last available exit after all, there’s not much choice in the matter. As his nails dig into the broken supports, the fire catches onto his fingers and hands. It clings to him, climbing up into his shoulders and hair like a possessive spirit.
This is no normal fire, Chang’e realises, that’s why they have no immunity to it. It’s heat is unnatural, searing and stinging and stripping them to the bone. Tengfei has no chance as it quickly consumes him, tearing a terrified scream from him before he collapses, unable to crest the fallen wall.
“Teng!” Chang’e sobs, taking a few stumbling steps forward from where he’s been huddled against the outer wall, “Teng!”
This man-made abomination is filling everything. He can feel the palace groaning under it’s own weight as more and more of it is eaten by fire. He wants to scream, but he’s too busy choking on the fumes.
A hand grabs him by the shoulder, fingers bruisingly tight.
“Chang’e,” his father, Qiang, says.
His voice is strong with some strange conviction, cool despite the heat.
Before he can ask or say anything at all Qiang throws him to the ground- just as the ceiling begins to cave in with a terrible shriek of clattering tiles and crumbling wood.
“Stay down!” his mother Mei-lin yells, her voice equally commanding, “Do not move an inch!”
Throughout his whole life he has been told that his family is wicked and manipulative. They are outsiders from the mainland who came here a mere handful of generations ago, outcasts who clawed their way up the pecking order in the void left by the political upheaval of the War of Spirits. Underhanded and zealous to a fault, that’s what people say.
He always shrugged it off as jealousy. Of course they would call his family evil. He knows they have a great many enemies.
But then he was engaged to Moyasukami Tenkubashi, the darling of the Tenkubashi royal line, putting his family one step removed from the Solar Throne itself. People in the Central Province acted strange around him though, and he began to wonder if perhaps the harsh words thrown at his family were justified. Perhaps they were underhanded, perhaps they were manipulative after all. Maybe he wanted to do right by his family, and right by Moyasukami by being kind. By being himself.
The ceiling gives way, crushing his father in an instant. He cries out in shock, all the air pushed from his lungs as he desperately reaches forward, eyes wide. His mother holds him in place, shielding him with her body.
Everything fell apart when Moyasukami ran away. When he ran, he humiliated the Wen Clan, humiliated the Tenkubashi, and ramped the tension in the air up to a lightning storm. Yet even with that happening, he could tell that the Empress herself was grateful in some way. What could be so terrible about being engaged to him that would drive someone to leave behind everything they’ve ever known?
Now everything is coming down in cinders around him, the fire licking up his feet, his shins, his chest. His home is burning. The man-made fire eats everything until nothing is left.
Nothing except for him.
He tries once again to sit up, slowly this time. Eventually he is successful, even if his head swims and pain lances through his skull. He clutches his head, groaning hoarsely. It’s so hard to stay awake. It hurts so much.
The pain is unbearable. It stings in his nostrils, fills up his lungs like water. And then comes the hate with the heat of a dying star, sitting in the seat of his soul, in his intestines and ribcage.
It’s strong. Nausea suddenly overwhelms him, replacing every iota of his being with slithering coils of pain. It’s impossible to think, he’s slipping through the skin of the world and into somewhere else.
Until he’s someone else.
It hurts to wake up.
Someone says something. It takes him some time to put the pieces together as his exhausted brain begins to process information once again.
“Be still,” the voice says. It feels kind, but firm. He decides to obey.
Well. Decides might be putting it kindly. He finds quite quickly that he’s been bound with spectral ropes, the kind conjured by a priest or a member of the Tenshi, the hunters of supernatural threats.
Swallowing thickly, he manages to crack open an eye, then the other.
He recognises the man kneeling in front of him with a sad smile on his face.
“Tokaiyama-sama,” he croaks, blinking a few times as his vision slowly starts to stablise.
Ashitaka Tokaiyama nods his head in confirmation, letting out a breath as his long, equine ears flick up in relief.
“Welcome back to the land of the living, Chang’e,” he says, “I’m sorry about the ropes. It was a necessity at the time, unfortunately!”
His voice is loud.
He’s a very loud man, the leader of Kazemori, the Northern Province. Kazemori is a huge swash of land made up mostly wilderness and mountains, where most of the food for Kasaiwari is grown. Ashitaka is known to be beloved inside his Province and very much not so by the leaders of everywhere else. This is in part due to his controversial feelings on tradition (not a fan) and in part due to his boisterous personality.
He also happens to be Moyasukami’s father.
“What happened?” Chang’e manages to ask, with a dry cough. His mouth tastes like ashes and dust.
Ashitaka hums, pursing his lips. He looks past him for a moment. Chang’e can’t turn his head, but he recognise the way Ashitaka must be meeting someone else’s eyes with a silent question in them. He sighs and nods.
“There’s no easy way to put this,” Ashitaka begins, “So I’ll be blunt. You’re a mononoke now.”
A beat of silence passes between them.
Chang’e swallows and lets out a shallow breath, letting his gaze drop to the floor.
“Ah, you don’t seem surprised,” Ashitaka surmises, “That’s good, it means you’re still competent. I hoped so.”
Kasaiwari is unique, he’s told, in the supernatural phenomenon that can occur. One of these is the possession of an otherwise ordinary person, driven by intense situations, that can fundamentally alter them into something demonic.
A mononoke is one of these demons.
“Will you slay me, then?” Chang’e asks, his voice quiet and eyes closing, “I won’t fight your judgement.”
A hand shoots out to grab his chin. It stings and forces his eyes open to find Ashitaka has leapt closer to him. There is a fire in his eyes, and he has such strange eyes, spirals which seem endless. The look on his face is deadly serious but deeply positive.
“No,” he says, with force, “Absolutely not. You may not understand it, but I don’t share the sentiment of most of the fools in power.”
Ashitaka sighs lets go of his chin, shuffling back a few feet and crossing his legs.
“Do you know what happened?” he asks, his brow furrowing slightly as he tilts his head to the side.
“My family burned,” Chang’e responds, monotone, “They’re all dead.”
Ashitaka lets out a soft hiss and shakes his head.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he says, “You were transformed by the cursed energy that was brought forth by their murders. Since you were the only survivor- probably because of it- it manifested inside of you.”
He waves a hand and the ropes fall away.
“It happens more often than you may think,” he adds.
Chang’e adjusts his posture, copying Ashitaka’s sitting position and rubbing his neck absently where the spectral ropes had dug in over time. He tries to crack his neck, but it makes the whole world sway.
“You were on a rampage when we found you,” Ashitaka continues, “But we got to you in time. I think.”
Chang’e startles at that, shoulders drooping alongside his ears.
“You think?” he presses, eyes wide, “I don’t- I can’t remember anything!”
“Ah, I’m very sure we got to you in time!” Ashitaka responds with haste, “You wouldn’t remember, not the first time. It’s better that way.”
Before Chang’e can dwell on that, Ashitaka breezes past it and continues.
“Not to worry!” he chirps, “Myself and Kisaragi here will make sure you heal up. Kisa’ll help you with your new condition too.”
From beside Ashitaka a man coalesces from shadows with a bow strapped to his back. He nods respectfully when Chang’e meets his eyes; and Chang’e notes that the man has small horns, almost like Moyasukami’s.
Chang’e looks down at the ground for a moment.
“How… can I go on?” he says, his voice rough with emotion, “We weren’t perfect but I… I loved them. Was there truly no one else left alive?”
His eyes sting but no tears come.
“There are only two choices open to you,” Kisaragi says, his voice delicate and softer than his look might hint at, “To live, or die. You want to live.”
“Do I?” Chang’e asks, struggling to lift his head to meet Kisaragi’s eyes, “I have nothing, no one left. My family, my friends, my- my future robbed from me.”
“You have yourself,” Ashitaka says- it’s a simple thing to say, but it sees to resound within the featureless room- “That’s more than enough reason to live.”
Chang’e swallows and scratches his cheek, frowning and thinking about it before he finally nods.
That can’t be all, though. People have always thought him naïve, but the past few months have taught him always to ask-
“Why?” he asks, looking from Kisaragi to Ashitaka, “Why help me? What do you want from me?”
Ashitaka laughs, a surprisingly lovely sound as he grins and clasps his hands together.
“You’re a pessimist!” he chuckles, “Here I thought Kae-kun chose you for your optimism!”
His ears flick in surprise at him referring to the Solar Empress herself with such a nickname and affectionate honourific, but he doesn’t comment on it.
“I’ve learnt my lesson,” Chang’e replies, cooly.
“Mm,” Ashitaka muses, rubbing his chin, “Fair. I’d like you to work for me. You’re going to need an outlet for that mononoke power of yours. Still, you’re welcome to turn me down when you’re healthy again.”
Chang’e looks down at his hands and notices, for the first time, that his once immaculate nails are now black, wicked claws. They look like obsidian- they look like the remains of his home.
“I understand,” he agrees, “I accept your terms, Tokaiyama-sama.”
Ashitaka claps his hands together, changing the aura of the room entirely in an instant. As he gets to his feet, Kisaragi crosses over to Chang’e and offers him a hand up.
“Wonderful!” Ashitaka enthuses, “Kisa, take Chang’e to get fed and cleaned up. I’ll meet you both later!”
Chang’e can only blink as Ashitaka leaves them, whistling to himself as he lets himself out of the room.
“He likes to wander,” Kisaragi explains, his voice dry, “Come, you smell like burning.”
“Yeah,” Chang’e murmurs, now on his feet and rubbing the dust from his hands, “Sure.”
