[The End of Osamu Ashikaga]: War and Children

Osamu returned home that night, his face as pale as snow. He shut the door behind him and leaned his back against it. Just the thought of what would come next filled him with dread. He did not want to go through with what he had planned. Had any of this been up to him, he would’ve opted for a peaceful resolution. It was useless to fantasize about peace now. Osamu and the Shinto pantheon were on an irreversible collision course that would forever change the world.

It was odd. Osamu thought his heart would be thumping out of his chest. Instead, his heartbeats were quiet and relaxed like the ticks of a watch. That was the scariest part to him, that he had already accepted everything that was about to happen. There was no force on the earth strong enough to shake his resolve.

Osamu smiled. “Maybe I’ve inherited some of your strength after all, Inari.”

After kicking off his shoes, Osamu walked to the kitchen and sat down at the island, pulling his pocket out of phone. He looked around, seeing the countertops had been wiped, dishes cleaned, and dinner left out for him in plastic containers. It seemed the girls had already retired to bed.

Osamu dug through his contacts and made a call he’d never thought he’d make. He put the phone to his ear, and after just a few rings, he heard Amaterasu’s voice on the other end.

“…Osamu? Is that you?” Amaterasu asked.

“It’s been a while, Amaterasu.”

“Why are you calling?”

“The same reason why you answered.”

“…Osamu, I’m sorry. I didn’t want any of this.”

“I know. I want to see you. Are you close by?”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“Neither of us have had good ideas these past seven years, have we? Come on. At least let me see you.”

“How about your favorite spot? The bowling alley? I can’t come alone. Uzume will be close behind me.”

“Uzume’s your shadow, after all. I understand. I was going to invite you to my house, but maybe you’re right about that not being such a good idea. I’m not sure how the girls would take it.”

“Not very well, I imagine. Osamu…if you try anything…”

“No, that’s not what this is. I have no desire to hurt you. I just want to see you.”

“Okay. I believe you. I’ll see you soon, then.”

“Yeah. See you soon.”

Though he had just gotten home, it was already time to get up and leave again. It wasn’t the first time in recent months that he had conjured up some reason to avoid being home. This time, he wasn’t mindlessly walking through his sleepy neighborhood or perusing through Cyanide’s literature collection in the abandoned library. He was meeting with the enemy the day before he’d wage war on her.

To his surprise, Uzume stood outside the bowling alley entrance. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the moonlight, her glassy, hazel eyes glittering like stars. She wore a pristine, white kimono and an obi with patterns of golden branches and budding cherry blossoms. She bowed to Osamu the moment she noticed him.

“Good evening, Osamu. Amaterasu is inside.”

“You two got here pretty fast.” Osamu said.

Uzume stood up straight. “It’s only natural that even now, she wouldn’t hesitate to be there for her son-in-law.”

Osamu glared at Uzume for just a few seconds, but to her, those seconds seemed to last an eternity. Though Uzume didn’t know Osamu as well as Amaterasu, even she noticed the dark intensity in his eyes. She knew that Osamu must’ve heard about Heaven’s decision, and yet, he didn’t possess the eyes of a man who was staring death in the face and was hopeless to stop it. Osamu had the eyes of a man on a mission, and he was hellbent on seeing it through to the end.

“Be honest with me, Uzume. Did you vote to have me killed?”

Uzume’s tongue turned to stone. She swallowed the burning lump in her throat and answered his question. “No. Actually, I was one of the few who voted against it.”

Osamu released a pained sigh. His eyes turned toward the broken glass at his feet, the shards showing him a warped and disfigured reflection of himself. “Then…I’m sorry, Uzume.”

“Sorry? For what?”

“…Everything.”

Osamu stepped inside the bowling alley, leaving Uzume flummoxed and shaken. As soon as he disappeared into the darkness of the entrance hall, Uzume realized she had been holding her breath around him. She exhaled and then took a deep breath, holding her trembling fingers over her lips. It was as though she just spoke with Inari rather than Osamu.

Osamu’s footsteps echoed down the hall, alerting Amaterasu to his presence. As usual, the queen of Heaven made every effort not to stand out when she was out in public. Instead of wearing her regal, white and gold robes, she was dressed in black yoga pants and a skin-tight, black shirt with long sleeves. Her raven hair was tied in a half-up style, the unbound hair draped over her shoulders while the rest of it was wrapped around the back of her head like a bow.

Amaterasu’s golden eyes shined like harvest moons in the darkness. She stood up as Osamu emerged from the hall and into the moonlight washing in through the row of colored glass behind her. The two of them stood there in silence for a full minute.

For seven years, Osamu thought that if he ever saw Amaterasu again, it would take an army to hold him back from physically hurting her. For seven years, he let his hatred of Heaven, the exorcists, and the Shinto pantheon brew inside him. But when he saw Amaterasu in that moment, her golden eyes filled with tears and her brows sunken in vulnerability and sorrow, all of his hatred disappeared. Instead, he found himself on the verge of tears.

Seeing his composure break apart, Amaterasu ran into his arms and hugged him tightly. Both of them had a thousand words to share with the other before arriving at the bowling alley, but now that they were together, no words were necessary. I

t became obvious that neither of them truly hated the other after all those years, and yet neither of them could reverse their collision course. Amaterasu could do nothing to stop her nation from passing the motion to take Osamu’s life, while Osamu was powerless to stop his family from retaliating and triggering a conflict that would get everyone killed.

“Are you well? Your eyes are black. I suppose you haven’t been sleeping well…” Amaterasu cried. “I’m sorry, Osamu. I did everything I could. The referendum was triggered by popular vote. I couldn’t overturn or veto it, not even as the queen.”

Osamu took Amaterasu’s hand. “I know. It’s okay. You gave us seven years, at least. Thank you for that.”

Amaterasu smiled as she stroked Osamu’s cheek. “Seven years, and yet, it seems you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Technically, I haven’t.” Osamu snickered. “Apparently, Inari’s blood and heart prevents me from aging. I guess I’m just like the rest of you gods now, eternally young. That doesn’t mean I haven’t changed in other ways.”

Osamu and Amaterasu sat down together, hand-in-hand. It was just them, the moonlight, and the vibrant colors of the windows beaming down and radiating off their skin. For just one night, Amaterasu wasn’t the queen of Heaven, and Osamu wasn’t a criminal with Inari’s blood and heart. They were just family.

“It just keeps happening.” Amaterasu said.

“What does?”

“The cycle. Kin killing kin. When Izanami died in childbirth, Izanagi took revenge upon Kagutsuchi, who was just a helpless infant. He searched for Izanami in the Underworld, but their reunion ended in a venomous divorce. Izanami unleashed Death upon the world, while Izanagi sought to counter it by populating the earth with as many living things as possible. He did exactly that, but he could never shake off the horror of what he went through. He fell into a catatonic state. It was like he died with eyes wide open.

“Without our mother or father, we were left to decide what to do next. Some of my siblings wanted to embark on a second expedition into the Underworld. They figured that with our combined strength, we’d be able to rescue Izanami and bring her back to the surface. My brother, Susanō, led this faction. But the other half of our family sought to create a more stable system, one that wouldn’t fracture if our leader was killed or incapacitated. They wanted to turn our family into a full-fledged nation, and they wanted me to be the queen.”

Amaterasu smiled, her eyes narrowing as the memories came back to her. “It was the hardest decision of my entire life. I loved my parents, but neither of them were fit to rule. Izanagi was out of his mind and Izanami had proven to be vengeful and impulsive, even if her rage was justified. A crown on either of their heads would spell disaster for us all. So, I decided to accept my position as queen. We would abandon both Izanami and Izanagi, and found our new nation.

“The two factions came at an impasse. Disagreement turned into aggression, aggression into murder, and the first series of murders sparked the First Great Holy War. Warring against your own family is…unspeakable agony. Every death on either side breaks your heart into another piece. Every drop of blood, every severed limb, every dying word stays with you forever. And yet, it was all necessary.”

“All of that was necessary?” Osamu asked.

Amaterasu nodded, turning her gaze towards Osamu. “I had inherited a family torn at the seams by differing viewpoints and philosophies, and I saw firsthand that the two sides couldn’t coexist. Trying to found a nation with both sides would’ve just resulted in its collapse. I believed the point of a nation was to create a system that would protect its inhabitants from instability and war. A nation was supposed to be the framework for peace. 

"When I witnessed the First Great Holy War as a young woman, I realized that peace is won through conflict and upheld by force. Peace is not a magical word that erases all hatred and violence between people. It doesn’t solve disputes. It doesn’t erase the pain of losing a loved one, nor the hatred that arises out of that pain. As is the case with many nations, peace is often the result of war.

“That’s when I realized that I was wrong. Nations are not the framework for peace. They’re a framework for collectivizing power. A nation in its infancy will more than likely have to use that power to squash all threats to its existence, whether they be external or internal. I allowed the war to play out until Susanō and his faction were defeated. I became the queen of a new nation, and then I went and rescued Izanami myself.”

“So that’s why you let everyone kill each other. You sacrificed family for the stability of your nation.” Osamu said. “But then…why did you rescue Izanami if you thought she was violent and impulsive?”

“Because…she was still my mother.” Amaterasu said, tears stinging her golden eyes. “As monstrous and cruel as she was, she was the woman who birthed and raised me. I loved her unconditionally. I loved my father too.”

“I understand that you didn’t believe that the two factions could coexist. I just think that maybe it could’ve all played out differently. Had you accepted your place as queen, but then offered to rescue Izanami as a show of good faith to the other side, maybe they would’ve respected you. Maybe they would’ve seen for themselves that Izanami wasn’t ready to be a matriarch and sided with you in the end.”

Amaterasu shook her head. “That right there is the horror of war. Reason is the first thing that dies. Rationality follows soon after. Then, the truth goes along with them. The scenario you described would’ve been a completely rational thing to want. Both sides would’ve gotten what they wanted. The desire to save our mother is why Susanō’s faction existed in the first place. 

"But reason is lost as tensions grow, and all you can think about is how to make the enemy see your way. Then the aggression starts, and you’re consumed by the desire to strike and strike back. Then the murder begins, and both sides must cling to an ideology to fuel the morale needed for war. And just like that, a faction’s current goal is completely different from the reason they became a faction in the first place.

“Ideologies and ambitions are fluid, and just like people, they evolve overtime. They’re corrupted. They’re hypocritical. Even if the war was resolved peacefully, no one could be sure that another war wouldn’t start over a similar issue or a perceived wrong. I wanted to get rid of any subversive elements before our nation took its first great step. Because once a nation has taken care of its enemies, it turns its strength inwards.

“Its next responsibility is to ensure internal peace and order. That’s achieved through a social contract, an agreement between the nation and its populace. Ordinary people fuel the nation’s productivity, agriculture, and commerce, while the state, given power by its consenting people, governs them. 

"The presence of a governing body is supposed to ensure that everyone lives on a level playing field, that any wrongdoing inflicted upon any citizen is made right through the law. From there, peace is established. After the First Great Holy War, I established that contract with my pantheon, and the pantheon with the people of Japan.”

“And the people of Japan with its own government.” Osamu added.

Amaterasu smiled. “Yeah, you’re getting it. Though, as you know, it wasn’t always peaceful. The pantheon suffered internal and external conflicts. Personal grudges between Izanami and myself, that entire ordeal with Bishamon and the Senkumo clan, the Second Great Holy War…”

“And now this.” Osamu finished.

“My pantheon is suffering the same fate as the two factions of the First Great Holy War. Its mission has changed as a result of the Inari Standoff and the violence that ensued. It’s collectivizing its power yet again to squash the greatest threat to the nation; you. In doing so, they’re continuing the cycle of familicide that’s cursed this family for generations. 

"First it was Izanagi and Kagutsuchi, then Izanagi and Izanami, then the opposing factions of the First Great Holy War. It continued even further with Tsukuyomi and Ike-Mochi, then Gekko and Oyamatsumi. Now it’s you and me.”

Osamu took a deep breath. “When you put it that way, I can understand now why you couldn’t stop the First Great Holy War. If it was anything like this, where neither side was willing to budge, then even the most rational compromise wouldn’t be enough for anyone. Not even Izanami has ever come to this understanding.”

“I don’t blame her. The war was an unspeakable loss for her. It’s…a difficult thing to explain to a grieving mother.

“I think the most painful part of that experience…was seeing what becoming queen had done to her brightest daughter.” Osamu said, catching Amaterasu’s attention. “To be honest, it always seemed to me that you were in the wrong back then. But now, after hearing your side of the story, I can’t say I blame you for what you did. 

"You didn’t know anything about nations or war. You had to learn everything the hard way. The burden of becoming the nation’s sovereign was forced upon you when you were still just a child. Your siblings robbed you of your personhood and turned you into something else. It’s like you were their holy cow.”

Osamu stood up and took a few steps forward, rolling a stray bowling ball back and forth with his foot. “And even though you may hate to hear it, this is where Taeko got it right.”

Amaterasu’s brows shot up in surprise. “Taeko?”

“Taeko knows what it’s like to have your worth as a human being stripped away. She learned it firsthand in her childhood. She lost her entire family at the hands of the government, and she saw soldiers get thrown into battle during the Onīn War. All of that loss of life…and for what? Because a baby boy was born?

“Taeko, Gekko, and Bishamon built a nation around Taeko’s own philosophy, that maintaining the humanity and personhood of every soldier is the most important thing a country can do. She refused to order her soldiers to do for her what she would never do for them, and Taeko did everything she could for them. Is it any wonder why she was so respected? No one understands the horror of what your siblings did to you better than Taeko does.”

Amaterasu leaned back in her seat. “I suppose I…never thought of it that way. It makes me wonder how she and I always find ourselves so ideologically opposed to one another.”

Osamu snickered. “Well, first off, she envisioned stratocracy for the world, not liberal democracy. If I had to guess, her main gripe is that soldiers and people are still dehumanized to this day. Not to mention…you did the same thing to Inari. You didn’t see her as a person anymore, just a power waiting to be unleashed. You saw her as a threat and kept going after her, knowing full-well she was a good friend of Gekko and Izanami. By the time you realized your pursuit of Inari would cost you everything you hold dear, it was already too late.”

“I’m sorry, Osamu…” Amaterasu cried, bowing her head.

Osamu smiled. “I don’t hate you. Not anymore. Hearing your side of things really helped. I feel like I finally understand you now. That makes me happy. Whatever happens next, I want you to know that I forgive you for what happened. For the referendum, for the Inari Standoff, all of it.”

Looking at her with a fresh, new perspective, Osamu didn’t see Amaterasu as an iron-fisted tyrant or a monarch obsessed with power. He saw a little girl still grieving for her parents, traumatized by a large-scale war that killed off half of her family. He saw a child that wasn’t allowed to buckle under the tremendous amount of pressure she was forced under. She had no choice but to develop skin as resilient as steel.

He understood now that Amaterasu’s fear of Blood Magic, her fear of people like Inari and Bishamon, stemmed from the trauma she endured when she witnessed the First Great Holy War. That trauma created a woman who would do everything she could to avoid going through such a catastrophic war again, even if it meant sacrificing siblings.

Looking at her now, he saw a little girl that wasn’t allowed to weep and mourn when it mattered most, that had to find out how to rule in both war and peace without the guidance of a mother or father. To Osamu, it wasn’t that the Shinto pantheon was created by Amaterasu, but that Amaterasu was made into an unwilling queen by the Shinto pantheon. She was chosen for a life path she simply was not ready for. That was what hardened her in all the wrong ways.

“Osamu…” Amaterasu wept, covering her face with her hands. “I don’t want to lose you.”

Osamu sat by her side and held her close, the two of them crying together in the veil of moonlight piercing the windows behind them. At long last, the two were able to bury seven years of hatred and foster a better understanding of each other.

Though, Osamu didn’t have the heart to tell her that the very next day, he would help Taeko wage the war that she had always feared would happen again. For that one night, Amaterasu wasn’t his enemy, nor a combatant. She wasn’t even a queen. She was the sad, helpless little girl she never got to be, weeping in the arms of the only man who still loved her in spite of it all.