Lessons of Brilliance

The following morning, Yuue gracefully returned to the courtyard with Amayori at her side. The air carried a crisp chill, not unlike the one that had blanketed Izumo for 2000 years. The courtyard stones were cool to the touch and damp with morning dew that shimmered like tiny jewels in the early light. The Sun Goddess’s hair caught faint glimmers of the rising sun, her blinding radiance a steady contrast to her sister’s subtle glow. Beneath their feet, the earth seemed to awaken, whispering softly of the day to come.
oooooAmayori carried herself with her usual poise, her chin lifted proudly, her lips pursed into a line. Yuue had coaxed her into coming, and it was obvious by the way she carried herself that she had no interest in following the tutelage of the newborn goddess.

What she truly yearned for was a mastery of her own radiance and control over the sun's light once more, so that it could fully illuminate the world and bring life. Even if the sun was hanging lower in the sky, and with less warmth than it should be.

“So you brought her?” Yahata muttered, his voice laced with annoyance and his hands tight at his side.

“Yahata,” Shosei said, his voice exasperated. He had already produced his scroll and a fresh pot of ink in anticipation of the lesson. He raised his eyebrow but gave a patient smile.

“For two centuries, the sun has not burned at all. As a result, the sun has reemerged, but without Amayori, the fields will fail to flourish. It still cannot burn at its full power. The mortals, while joyous about the sun’s return, look on in worry as their children face the specter of hunger once more," he told the War God. From beside him, Hikari nodded in agreement, as if she knew what he was saying—even if she didn’t understand at all.

Yuue gave a soft nod in agreement, “I can guide the mortals through the dark with the moon, but only the sun can keep them alive. Allowing the sun to burn without control could also cause significant damage to the land. Shion must lend her a hand.”

“So,” Amayori began, tilting her head as she glanced at Shion, weighing her worth, “This is what it comes to. A mortal woman without a voice will serve as my teacher? Do you really think the Sun will bow to her hands?”

Her voice was not cruel; it was sharp and brittle like glass, laced with uncertainty. Shion swallowed hard and closed her eyes, her fingers twitched with determination before she raised her hands and signed, “We will survive together.”

The meaning cemented itself in Amayori’s mind, and her brow furrowed, “What do you mean by that?” Yuue gently touched her sister’s arm, “It means that you are not meant to burn alone; your radiance cannot shine with your power alone. Not yet. Watch her hands.” Deliberately, and with great care, Shion repeated the gesture slowly, “Together.” The sweep of her hands seemed to pull invisible threads to her chest as she repeated it one more time. Together. Yuue watched her carefully, and this time, mirrored Shion’s gestures perfectly, a silver shimmer trailing along her fingers. The air around her stirred softly, and she looked expectantly at Amayori. The Sun Goddess exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes as if the entire thing were beneath her. But then, with a sharper motion than necessary, she mimicked Shion’s motions. At first, nothing happened. She tried again, and then, a faint warmth bled from her skin, scattering over the stones like the dawn’s first rays. It was the same warmth she had felt when she had first met Shion, but this time, it had spread outward. The glow, albeit fragile, was very real. Amayori stilled and stared at the stones.

“Go ahead. Try again,” Yuue said softly, her voice encouraging. Shion looked at her expectantly, a smile spreading across her face. It would take time, but she could tell that Amayori was already getting there.

Amayori closed her eyes and repeated the sign once more. This time, the glow swept out in an arc around her, radiating a brilliant light. The courtyard stones grew warmer beneath their feet. Shosei began scratching at the parchment laid across his lap with ferocity, his eyes focused on the scene unfolding before him.

Amayori parted her lips, her pride cracking in that brief moment. “I feel it… It feels as if my entire body spoke. Amazing.”

Shion took a step closer to Amayori, her serene expression steady. This time, her hands formed a shape similar to a closed flower. As she twisted her wrists slightly, she opened her fingers and moved her hands upward slightly. It looked like a flower bud blooming beautifully.

Amayori studied the sign carefully, noting how the deliberate gesture seemed to pull energy from the air itself. "This is flower," Shion signed, "We can use it to make the plants grow."

There was an elegance in the gestures that was not merely ornamental but an intrinsic part of their divine power—particularly Shion’s. Each movement of Shion's hands served as a conduit that channeled celestial energy in a way that words alone could not. This connection between the two would allow the gods to communicate and exert influence over their world with precision and grace.

Though it took a moment to fully comprehend what was being signed to her, Amayori finally nodded in understanding.

Hikari giggled from beside Shosei and imitated the sign next, her hands forming a tiny flower in bloom.

“You won’t let yourself be beaten by a child, right?” Shosei said, his voice playful. Amayori huffed loudly. Her orange eyes flicked to Yahata, who had his arms crossed over his chest. He was smirking, but as soon as their eyes met, he scowled. She looked back at Shion and, with another huff, copied the movement.

This time, the courtyard shivered with great force. In the cracks of the stone tiles, several tiny green shoots broke through, stretching toward the glow she had created. The Sun Goddess’s breath caught in her throat as she bent down to stare at the fragile stems.

A smile appeared on Yuue’s lips, and she touched Amayori’s shoulder. “My sister, her hands, it seems, can teach the Sun itself to bend.”

Amayori straightened, her posture prideful even as her gaze lingered on the sprout, as if it were the most incredible thing in the world. “This does not necessarily prove anything,” she said hurriedly, her voice softer than before. “Even so… I will try again this afternoon.”

Shion’s hands returned to her sides, her heart hammered beneath her ribs in a steady hum. She caught sight of Yuue’s nod of approval, the smiles worn by Shosei and Hikari, and Yahata’s watchful gaze, his lips pressed into a line that almost looked like a smile. But only those who knew him well enough would recognize it. . . . The small green shoots continued to poke out between the stones in the courtyard, trembling softly in the soft breeze that rustled them.

Amayori stood above them with an unreadable expression and her hands hanging loosely at her sides. Her subtle glow had returned to its usual brilliance, but Shion could tell that it was not at the capacity it should be. Shion sensed hesitation in Amayori, and it was holding her back. Yuue was the first to break the silence. “Ama, the Sun still hears you—still answers you. But you must learn to listen to it.”

Amayori tightened her jaw and folded her arms, standing with a defiant posture. To her, the sun was like an untamed flame blazing with a light so fierce it commanded respect or fear. "The Sun was not made to listen. It commands the sky, and so do I, burning and dazzling with a light that forces mortals to bow their heads or be blinded. That is the truth of the Sun. And of me."

Shion looked at her and shook her head firmly, a frown on her lips. “That is not the truth. It’s a habit.” Her signs were careful as she waited for whatever universal connection they all had to imprint the meaning of her signs onto Amayori’s mind.

Shion knew she was playing with fire, literally. But she also knew that she would need to push back against the narrow-minded beliefs of gods such as Amayori and Raikuro in order to thrive and to aid in restoring Izumo.

Amayori’s eyes blazed like twin suns as she narrowed them, glaring down at Shion. “A habit?” Shion glanced at Shosei, and then Yuue, Hikari, and finally, Yahata. She felt a surge of power through her, not a godly one. No, it was the strength to stand her ground and challenge the archaic ideas Amayori held. “To heal is to change,” she signed.

Amayori shook her head, letting out a humorless and strained laugh. “You would presume to tell me that a deity’s nature can change—should change?”

It was then that Yahata finally pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against. His scarlet gaze pinned Amayori, and his voice was hoarse as he spoke, “Mine changed. What of it?” Amayori glared at him sharply, but the War God offered nothing more than a shrug.

“Do not think of change as the end of what you are,” Yuue began, touching her sister’s arm. “This is the beginning of who you could be and of what the world can be with the return of your life.”

Shion's gaze stayed on Amayori as she raised her hands once more. She first signed “Light,” her movements deliberate. Then, with careful intent, her hands formed the sign signed the one that Amayori had been shown in the War God's temple. It was 'warmth.' Even seeing the gesture made her shudder with remembrance. Before moving on, Shion briefly repeated the 'flower' sign, the symbol of gentle bloom, signaling a moment of crossing into new understanding.

Shion's gestures radiated but did not command. They were not superiority, but invitations.Amayori’s jaw clenched harder as the pride in her chest warred with a deeper, smaller feeling she had buried. Perhaps it was guilt for all the years she had been unable to command her warmth. Slowly, she shifted her hands and copied Shion. The warmth that spread from her fingers was brighter than before and flowed with ease like a warm wave.

Hikari, half-awake on a blanket beside Shosei, stirred and mumbled softly as the warmth reached her tiny form. She sighed contentedly and curled further into the soft blanket.

Amayori’s eyes widened and then softened at the sight of the child’s ease. Her glow softened then, not from weakness, but from restraint. For the first time in two millennia, she was offering warmth and comfort as an act of care. Sure, the sun had begun to rise and set once more, but it was unstable, not always rising all the way over the horizon or spreading enough warmth. A deep, resonant silence settled around her. The only sound came from Shosei’s quill and Hikari’s soft murmurs of content.

At long last, Amayori spoke, her voice low, stubborn, and almost human rather than divine. “If I am to learn this… I cannot guarantee that it will be quick or easy. Do not expect me to bow in that Yuue, Shosei, Mizuchi, and Yahata have.”

“None of us has bowed our heads. Instead, we have opened our hearts and minds,” Yuue chided with the same gentle sternness she gave Hikari when the little girl was getting into what she should not.

Amayori turned away, her fists balled at her sides, unable to bear the gentleness in her sister’s tone. Her gaze lingered on the sleeping child, and then the sprouts at her feet. She said nothing more as she walked away, the faintest glow of the dawn clinging to her shoulders as though she had absorbed far more than she was willing to admit.

With a deep exhale, Shion lowered her hands. She did not need to hear gratitude or praise from Amayori; she had already felt the shifting in the universe. Izumo’s sun would return to its full glory now that Amayori knew what she was capable of. A sense of hope blossomed deep within her very core. It was a hope not only for the Izumo but for herself as well.

Shion pondered the journey thus far, the challenges she had faced: being taken from her own world, battling cultists, restoring water to the land, gods bickering over Hikari's life, and awakening as a goddess. As she reflected on her growth and resilience, she found reassurance in herself and her allies.

If the sun could bend and adjust, then so could the Thunder God. Yet, on the horizon, an unsettling presence began to brew. The air carried a palpable tension, a metallic tang that pricked at the senses, as though hinting at a storm ready to unleash its fury. The distant, rhythmic murmur of thunder, almost imperceptible, seemed to echo with Raikuro's unyielding force.

Now, she looked to those challenges that lay ahead, with the real challenge being Raikuro. She realized that her heart was set on a path that transcended her own understanding, a journey of light and transformation, where she would inspire and be inspired. And perhaps, her heart had been set on that path from the moment of her arrival.

. . . 

As the early afternoon sun rose a little higher in the sky, the courtyard became a place of quiet reflection. The gods lingered in the Moon Temple’s courtyard amidst the gentle warmth of the sun’s rays, each lost in their own thoughts.​Shosei, ever the chronicler, continued to scratch his quill across parchment, determined to capture every detail of the unfolding transformation. It was the birth of a new goddess; it was also the rebirth of the other gods and goddesses. And it was beautiful. ​Hikari, still bundled in her blanket, had moved from Shosei’s side to sit on the warm stone beside Shion. She watched the new sprouts sway delicately, her red eyes wide with wonder. 

Since her birth, she had only seen the death of vegetation and the world around her. ​Even Yahata, usually so stern, allowed a rare smile to tug at his lips as he observed the Shion and Hikari, sitting side by side on the ground. Shion would sign to Hikari, and the child—his child—would repeat it with a giggle. 

Occasionally, Shosei would translate the signs aloud from nearby. Hikari did not have the same strong tie to the divine that allowed them to understand Shion’s unspoken language. Hikari would clumsily repeat the words as she signed them, and occasionally, Yahata would do the same from afar, believing that no one was watching him.

He was thankful that she had Shosei as a teacher, one of the only gods who had ever bothered to learn every language of the land, and who was now determined to help develop the girl’s language skills that had been neglected for 2000 years. Though he had always found the other god to be a bit much at times, it was now that he truly understood why Chishan had chosen to promote him to godhood. Without him, they would have never made it this far.

 ​Yuue approached Shion and Hikari and sat on the stone beside them. The two goddesses, old and new, shared a moment of silent understanding, their sisterly bond growing in the stillness. Izumo was holding its breath, waiting for what would come next. And Shion felt the weight of possibility settle on her shoulders and into her hands. It was not a burden, but a promise —a promise that this was just the beginning. ​The sun struggled but continued its slow ascent into the sky, its rays stretching further across the land. 

Beyond the temple’s walls, Izumo was awakening once more for the eighth day in a row. Farmers looked skyward with uncertainty and hope as a golden glow gently caressed their fields. Children, having regained their strength much more quickly than adults, chased each other through the streets, their laughter rising like birdsong. It was a stark contrast to the agonized cries of days past, which already felt so long ago. ​

The riverbeds, once parched, now glittered beneath the sun’s tentative rays. In every corner of the land, the seeds of renewal had been planted, and the very spirits of the earth and the sky were coming alive once more. 

​Amayori stood atop a hill outside the walls of her sister’s temple, her posture resolute and her blazing gaze fixed on the distant horizon where clouds gathered. She could no longer cling to pride alone, and a flicker of humility shone in her graceful form, a willingness to learn and change bubbling beneath the surface. ​

Yet even as hope blossomed, the distant rumble of thunder reminded them all that there was still work to be done. Raikuro’s stubborn presence loomed, an uncontrolled storm gathering strength on the horizon, a strength he had yet found control over. 

Shion knew that teaching the storm god would be one of the greatest trials of all, but she also knew that she was not alone. She was encouraged by the companions at her side: Shosei, who had believed in her first; Yuue, ever the doting older sister; Mizuchi, the gentle teacher; Hikari, who reminded her of her younger self; Yahata, whose quiet affection spoke volumes and gave her strength; and even Amayori, who was hesitant to accept her but was willing to try. ​

With her companions beside her, she felt ready to face the unknown..