Chapter Text
“Raidou Kuzunoha the XIV, you must be the sacrifice.” The Herald of Yatagarasu’s voice was solemn. Not quite mournful, nor regretful but… she spoke with a kind of gravity he wasn’t used to. She was always all business, Raidou’s never even seen her with so much as a smirk—eyes always shadowed by the black headcover, lips downturned, voice soft but commanding. Somehow, this was beyond that.
“What!?” Gouto almost yowls, springing forward and lashing his tail protectively. “Why Raidou?!”
The Herald barely even glances down at the bristling cat, keeping her head firmly faced towards Raidou as she speaks. “A Talisman or a seal would break under the weight of the curse. We need something stronger, something that can show that the Yatagarastu will not buckle under such a paltry threat.” He can’t see her eyes, but he can imagine the hard steel in them. A rare kind of cutthroat he’s never seen from the herald before.
Gouto doesn’t back down. His fur starts to bristle, lips pulling back into a snarl. “A curse of that caliber could breakRaidou! For you to suggest he fight the caster as well–!”
“I’ll do it.” Raidou’s voice is soft, the same way it always is. Easy to ignore or talk over—it happens all the time with Narumi, even if the man doesn’t mean to do so—but it stops Gouto in his tracks all the same.
The cat swings his head back. Those sharp, green eyes dig into Raidou. He’s spent enough time with Gouto to know what the cat is asking—are you sure?
He nods once, wrapping a hand tight around the grip of his sword. Raidou is a member of the Yatagaratsu, he has been given a mission. There is never any world in which he can deny it.
It’s for the safety of the Capital.
The Herald nods, “well spoken.” Her voice sounds the same but underneath the icy exterior, Raidou can almost imagine he hears a tinge of pride. “Take a moment to brace yourself. Once the curse is passed onto you, any slip in concentration will leave you vulnerable. Gouto did speak some truth—a curse designed for a God is not meant to be withstood by a mortal body—but you are strong. Remain focused, remain faithful in your mission, and you will come out stronger for it.”
He took a deep, steadying breath. He widened his stance a little, small pebbles clattering against the cobbled path as he gazed up towards the Herald. He nodded.
“I will begin the ritual. We are counting on you, Raidou Kuzunoha the XIV.”
************
Raidou has known pain many times in his life. From grueling trainings to close calls with demons, it was as integral to the Raidou Kuzunoha title as demon summoning was. This however?
He’s brought to his knees the second his feet touch the dirt path.
Sharp, cutting pain lances across his body in ways he’s never understood before. It pulses in time with the glowing sigils that clutters the lower half of his body, ebbing just long enough for the next wave to knock him over again. His eyes burn, a red haze clouding most of his vision.
A scream wants to bubble up from the depth of his chest, an auditory manifestation of the rot spreading across his skin. Instead he squeezes his eyes shut and bites into the side of his cheek with enough vicious fury to wash his tongue in the coppery tang of blood.
He’s aware enough to know they’re in the Dark Underworld of the Capitol. The familiar weight of the demon homeworld wrapping around him like a wet blanket, dragging on his limbs and pressing against his chest. He can’t draw attention to himself here, not with the state he’s in.
“–dou! Raidou, can– me?” A voice is yelling in his ears. “Raidou!”
He prys his teeth apart, slowly unlocking his jaw just enough to wheeze out a strangled “Gouto…” Shamefully, a whimper slips past his lips as well. He clamps his mouth shut again and lowers his head.
“Raidou!” Gouto sounds simultaneously both relieved and even more distraught. “Can you hear me?”
Raidou nods, which is a mistake.
A thrumming, pounding ache bolts through his head. With a muffled whine, he digs his fingers into the compact dirt, chipping his nails and rubbing the first few layers of skin raw.
Anything to distract from the burning agony that’s spreading through his body.
“I knew this would happen!” Gouto mutters darkly. Likely to himself rather than Raidou, so he tries not to feel too insulted by his companions lack of faith. He was right, Raidou was too weak to bear the curse. “You need to focus, Raidou. Concentrate on something, anything, and do not let it waver. Do you understand me?”
How?!
How can he concentrate on anything?
Every time a thought beyond 'pain, pain, pain' crosses his mind, it’s washed away just as quickly. Despite his best effort, another low whine slips from his lips.
“Shit.” Gouto says with feeling. “Focus on my voice, Raidou. Listen to what I say and only what I’m saying. Can you do that?”
Against his better judgment, Raidou nods again.
It fucking hurts.
“Okay, good. Just listen to me. Let the pain flow through you, do not let it become trapped in you. Let go of it, don't let yourself feel. Just... focus on the mission."
He thinks Gouto is pressed against him, warm fur trying to offer some meager comfort. It’s oddly touching, coming from a no-nonsense cat.
But he works to follow Gouto’s advice, latching onto the cat’s scattered ramblings as he tries to convince himself the pain doesn’t matter. He breathes in deep, filling his aching lungs with the air he’d accidentally been depriving them off. He breathes out, trying to relax his jaw. Yet another pathetic whine slips out.
“It’s okay, Raidou.” Gouto soothes. “No one is meant to endure this kind of torture, there is no shame.”
No shame, huh? “It… H-hurts.” He grits out, trying to get his spasming hand under control. “I–I ca… c–can’t–”
“You can Raidou.” Gouto presses against his side just a little harder. “You must.”
No one else can save him. No one else will save him. Raidou has been sent to prove the unbreakable strength of the Yatagarastu. He must vanquish the one who laid this curse without stumbling—if he cannot do that he does not deserve the title Raidou Kuzunoha the XIV.
“C’mon Raidou…” Gouto urges him.
Breath. Slow, even breathes—wind across a pond.
He is not the limited shell of Jouhei, or even Raidou. He is nothing, just a momentary drop in the cosmic drip of the universe. He is a force—no muscle, no nerves—all he is, is his mission.
Defeat the one who cast the curse. Defend the Capital.
The pain begins to recede, little by little as he latches onto that idea. His hands feel numb, and his thoughts smear like ink, but he regains enough control to push off the ground. He wobbles as he rocks back on his knees—another lance of agony tries to spread through his chest but he doesn’t have a chest anymore.
He is his mission.
Carefully, he blinks his eyes open. The haze is worse, blanketing everything in a near solid wall of red. He couldn’t even see his hand anymore.
“...Gouto.” He whispers, voice cracking along the way. “I can’t see.”
“What?” The cat is distressed, he can hear it in the way his voice wobbles and shakes. “Shit, Raidou, your eyes…”
“Don’t–” He closes them, retreating back into that blissful dark. “I– I need you to–”
“...You can count on me Raidou.” Gouto sounds miserable. “We’re… We’re in Fukagawa-Cho, right outside the bathhouse. Straight ahead of you are three demons—A Moh Shuvuu, a Throne, and an Orthus… do you know which direction the curse is coming from?”
Raidou tries to focus, letting his mind get thrown about in the gales of the curse until—There! He lifts a completely numb hand and points.
“The… The empty lot? That’s not too far.” Gouto breathes in relief.
Raidou tries to remember the layout of Fukagawa-Cho, vainly scraping together bits and pieces to create some miss-matched collage. If he’s right, there’s a stretch of dirt that gives way to a bridge in front of him.
Gingerly, he pushes himself to his feet, nearly falling right back on his face. A foot skids out in front of him to catch his fall and he tries not to seize up as the pain breaches his feeble defenses and writhes up his spine.
He is his mission. He is his mission. He is his mission.
There is no body to hurt. There are no nerves to feel.
There is no Raidou.
He breathes heavily, eyes unintentionally springing open as he gazes at the sky of the Dark Underworld. He can barely make out the thick ash that blankets the realm floating past him.
There is no pain. There is no pain. There is no pain. There is no pain.
Gently, a tail wraps around his leg. “Raidou…”
The mission. He is his mission.
“Le-lead the way.” He coughs out. His throat burns, but it’s distant. It’s not him—just some other poor sap stuck here too.
Gouto sighs, weary and tired. “I’m so sorry kid…” There’s a soft tug on his left leg, pulling him towards the bridge. “Get ready to run.”
There is no pain. There is no pain. There is no pain.
Distant footfalls reach his ears, sounding as if they are coming from right below him. Poor sod whoever that fool is. Demons cry but he breezes past them, following the tugs and corrections of Gouto—who’s muttering something the entire time. He, unfortunately, does not have the ears to hear it.
He is his mission. He is the sword of the Yatagarasu. He is the protector of the Capitol.
That is all he is.