Rise by Amanda Sun Read Free Book Online Page A

Kunitoko. “Was this your doing, or Ameno’s?” But the older
kami
had shaken his head.
    “It was necessary,” Kunitoko had said. “Shadows gather in corners and lurk by themselves. No one needs to create them. Painting light will rouse shadows to movement.” And so this World of Darkness had lurked here, waiting for Izanagi one day, knowing he would come. He shuddered. All of those happy years behind him, and this gate had always waited, knowing the fate that would play out.
    “Izanami?” he called out into the fields of shattered rocks. No one replied. He stepped carefully over the boulders, the wood of his geta sandals scraping against the sediment. “Are you here?” He looked around, but Yamato had not painted this section of sky yet—it was still black as ink, the gems of fireflies shedding little light to help him see.
    “Izanami,” he called again, and then a pain like fire shot along his ankle as he fell. It was impossible to see all the rocks, and he’d tripped over a shard. He hurtled toward to the hard ground, moaning as he rocked back and forth and clasped his ankle. After a moment he draped his arm over a low boulder, pushing himself upright and testing his weight on the leg. How could he ever find her here? She who had once surrounded herself with living things, now here among these sharp and silent stones—no, it couldn’t be.
    But a shadow moved, deeper in the valley, and he heard the rustle of fabric caught against the rocks.
    “Izanami?” He listened, looked for another shadow.
    Halfway down the valley, a golden fox stepped out from behind a stone, his singed ears pricked up as he watched with unblinking eyes.
    Izanagi’s heart unfurled like a paper crane—Izanami’s
kitsune
. She had to be here.
    He lifted his hand out to the
kitsune
, who sniffed thoughtfully at the air. Its golden paws padded gently between the stones, two of its tails singed nearly to its backside from the fire at the pagoda. Izanagi took another step, and the fox’s ears flattened against his head, his tiny lip curling back to a row of miniature fangs. He disappeared behind a half-smashed boulder.
    “Wait, please,” Izanagi called after him. Then he saw it at the very bottom of the valley—the gaping mouth of a dark cave, nearly invisible among the rocks and the dim glow of the gemstones. A thin fog curled from the cave, like the shadows of the chaos that had once foamed on the oceans. They swept uneasiness over him, the depth of this world stirring his heart with fear.
    The World of Darkness. He hadn’t expected Yomi to seem so foreboding. And to think Izanami might be here alone.
    “Izanami?” he called again, half hoping not to hear an answer.
    A shadow moved against the wall of the cave, lit only by a deeper blue light shining from inside. He caught sight of her hand, as delicate as ever, clutching an iron lantern that gleamed with the blue glow.
    “Izanami, it’s me,” Izanagi said. “Kunitoko said I could find you here. I’ve come to bring you home.”
    Her voice was the same as before, but without warmth. It was cold as the ink spray of the ocean. “Where is my son?”
    “H-he was your executioner,” Izanagi stammered. “He is the reason you’re here in this horrible darkness.”
    “He was my son,” Izanami said. Izanagi could see the silhouette of her face against the cavern wall, the shape of it flickering in the blue lantern light. “He burned with the bitter fire that kindled in me for too long. And I burned willingly for him.” Her shadow retreated, the light fading into the mouth of the cave.
    “Wait!” Izanagi cried, and the light of the lantern swung back as she hesitated. “I...I’m sorry. I was wrong, about everything. I should never have feared your power. We should never have walked around the pillar again. Forgive me, Izanami. Let’s start over.”
    She made no motion at first, and then the shadow of her face on the wall tilted downward. “It is too late,” she said.