Awakening the War God

The two traveled along a disintegrating road, passing weathered statues that were similar to those in the temple - proud warriors that had been permanently silenced by the coverings on their mouths.

“Are all of these statues like you? Are all of the temples connected?” Shion asked. He watched her out of the corner of his eye and nodded after a moment.

“The statues in the main temple, along with any statues you see outside of the temple, are mere depictions. Once, they served as worship points for messages and offerings to be left for us,” he explained. She listened carefully, nodding as he spoke.

“And the temples?”

“Not all of them are connected, no. I only reside in the main temple because of my placement as a scribe to all things past and present. Many of the statues were torn down when we became useless to humans, a consequence of the Silence that befell our land. This Silence caused a great schism between us and the humans. It was a turning point when humans lost faith in the gods. Our voices became echoes of a forgotten past, and in their disillusionment, humans decided they no longer needed us. Others were altered with the mouth coverings, signaling our silence.”

“I think I understand,” Shion signed to him. And she mostly did. It was a lot to take in, but she was not exactly in the position to question all of this realm’s workings.

As they progressed further down the desolate road, the air grew heavier and stagnant, and even Shosei’s chattering grew sparse. Finally, they reached a shrine that was once ornate and magnificent. It loomed above them like a mountain but it was now crumbling down. The red tori gate looked ready to collapse at any time. The gate, flanked by stone guardian statues with shattered swords, led to a large door and into a dark main hall with an oppressive atmosphere. She gently touched the cold, cracked walls of the main room, her eyes falling on a figure that knelt motionless on a dais.

He was unmoving, just like the statues they had just passed, but he was not stone. The figure’s hand rested atop the hilt of a katana, its edge buried in the floor. His head was bowed, and ebony hair cascaded down his back and hung like a curtain over closed eyes. His arms were coated in dust, Shion noted, as she slowly moved closer to the being, frozen in time. Heat rose from the figure, signalling life.

Shosei adjusted his glasses, smearing ink along the frames, and cleared his throat softly before speaking. “This is Yahata, God of War. There was a time when his voice could stir courage in mortals, call order and law to the land, and command armies. Ever since the Silence fell on this land, not a single word has left his lips.”

Shion stared in awe at the god. His long hair, his blood-red haori with gold streams embroidered across the sleeves, and the way he wore it, with one arm out to reveal a dark gray, sleeveless top beneath. “Is he…alive?” She signed at last.

Shosei pressed his lips together and nodded. “He is most certainly alive. And dangerous. Even without his powers, he is still a warrior. Tread carefully as he was quite unpredictable before falling into this state,” he warned.--- Shion listened carefully, contemplating the depth of the gods' plight. She found herself thinking about how sad it must be for all of them. To have their powers snatched away and, in the case of Yahata, to fall silent must have been excruciating. He must have felt it useless to continue speaking if his voice held no power. Her thoughts drifted back to her own experiences of being unheard, reminding her of times in the human world when she was overlooked due to her silence. Memories flooded to the surface of her mind. Sitting silently in crowded rooms, feeling invisible while others passed her by, their chatter a stark contrast to the quiet she was forced to inhabit. Ignored by all who refused to meet her where she was, to communicate with her on her level.

Her empathy deepened, knowing firsthand the pain of wanting to connect but being unable to. As a gesture of solidarity, Shion hesitated for a moment before reaching out. With a gentle touch, she lightly placed her hand on the cool stone of his figure as they passed by, offering a silent promise of understanding and empathy. Her action may have seemed small, but it was a sincere attempt to connect with the silence and heaviness that had befallen the world.

Shion could understand to an extent; rarely had she encountered someone who could sign with her. Instead, most of her communication was written. She and her classmates alike had hated when she was called on in class, forced to walk up to the board in front of everyone and write her answers. Sometimes, she was ridiculed for taking too long; other times, she was complained at for how hastily she would write.

With sorrowful eyes, her fingertips hesitated over the faded gold seal carved at the base of the dais. She knew that the path ahead required action, a decision driven by more than just chance. As her fingers brushed lightly against the seal, she thought of the stories she had heard from Shosei and from her grandmother. She recalled the silent prayers she had expressed in her own quiet way. A resolve, tentative yet concrete, guided her hand. With a soft yet deliberate press, it shattered instantly, causing her to jump back. The ground began to tremble as dust and debris fell from the ceiling of the shrine. Slowly, a deeply thunderous vibration filled the room, and the figure began to stir, rising slowly.

Yahata was taller than her and Shosei alike, towering over her with an imposing look in his burning crimson eyes. His exposed arm, she noted, bore the scars of countless battles.Shion’s breath caught in her throat. He was absolutely gorgeous, but terrifying at the same time – not unlike the unsheathed sword that was stabbed into the ground.

As he fully opened his eyes, his crimson gaze remained locked onto her with sharp, merciless scrutiny. Shion pulled her arms around her body protectively.

Shosei bowed his head quickly to the higher-ranking god, hand trembling softly around his quill as he began to speak hurriedly, “Yahata, please forgive the intrusion. This girl is—”

Steel sang, and Yahata’s blade, now freed from the stone, cut sharply through the air, striking into the floor between the girl’s feet. Her entire body jolted, and her mind screamed at her to run, but her feet remained firmly planted in place.

Wordlessly, the War God’s lips moved as he pointed at her, 'You.'

He drew the short sword at his hip next and lifted it, angling the blade forward and pointing it directly at her throat.

Shion’s legs began to tremble and Shosei leapt forward, words flowing from his lips in a panic. 

“Yahata! Wait! She is not the Wordless One – she is the one Shijima spoke of before disappearing. The verse of prophecy, the one who restores—”

An aggravated growl rumbled up from Yahata's throat, but his silence was the loudest thing of all. His eyes burned with a mixture of anger and unease, reflecting an internal battle that waged within him. On one side, his honor as a god and a warrior urged him to uphold his duty to protect his realm from potential threats. Yet, a flicker of fear resided beneath his stoic exterior. It was fear not only of what Shion might be capable of, but also of the unexpected vulnerability he felt in the presence of someone who could disrupt the silence that had long settled over his world. And there was something else, something buried deep down that his mind had yet to recall.

Ignoring the way her pulse hammered in her ears, Shion followed her instincts and slowly raised her hands. One remained clutched to her chest while the other trembled softly. “I am not your enemy,” she signed, unsure if he would understand her.

Silver light flared at her fingertips and rippled outward, forcing the war god’s blade back. The steely blade quivered as if she had caught it with her own hands.

Yahata’s eyes widened, and for the first time, an emotion other than fury was painted on his features. Shock? Recognition? It was hard to say.

Shion’s face mirrored his as she stared down at her hands. Just how powerful was she?— The trance the two were both locked in broke, and Yahata stepped backward, sheathing his shortsword first before pulling the other from the ground and putting it away as well. Stillness returned to the shrine. This silence, however, was not one of sleeping stones. It was the taut, steely silence that rose in the air just before two armies charged forward.

The war god’s chest rose and fell as his eyes remained trained on her, his gaze analyzing her every detail. Her every movement, no matter how small.

Once more, his lips formed soundless words that remained sharp and demanding: 'What are you?'

Shion swallowed hard. She felt as though she was under a microscope; she thought she had grown used to being stared at, but apparently not. How did she answer such a question? Was there a sign that could convey her feelings in the right way? She wanted to express that she was lost, or that she was human. But would he even believe her?

Shosei broke the silence with a nervous cough as he attempted to bridge the communication gap between the girl and the god, “She is not your enemy—not our enemy—I swear to you. She’s the only one who has been able to give us a sliver of what we have lost.”

Yahata did not bother to offer even a glance in the lower god’s direction. His eyes remained affixed on the young woman before him.With a shaky exhale, Shion’s hands slowly fell to her sides.

Finally, he glanced at Shosei, and then to Shion, his gaze remaining intense as his lips moved again: If you prove to be a danger to this world… I will cut you down without mercy.

The weight of his vow felt heavier than anything she had experienced in her life. Her breath shuddered and her hands curled into her sleeves. He did not believe her yet; he may never believe her. What mattered in this moment was that she had survived their first meeting. In this world of famine and silence gods, that alone felt like a victory.

Before she could attempt to offer anymore of an explanation, a faint glow caressed the cracked stones of the shrine’s entrance. It was a light that was soft, yet searing as it spilled through the cracks in the rotting walls like the first dawn’s light on the horizon. Shosei’s entire body stiffened, and he covered his mouth with his hand.

“That radiance…” he whispered, voice tight with both awe and dread. “She’s coming...”

Yahata’s eyes finally broke away from Shion’s, and he turned his steely glare toward the entrance of his shrine, his hand poised on the hilt of his sword once more.

And Shion, caught between their distrust and the blinding glow creeping closer, felt the silence around her deepen to a crushing weight. She was unsure whether the light was a welcome one or not.