The steam from the hot springs curled into the air, creating ephemeral patterns that danced and twisted like living tendrils before dissolving into the cool night breeze. Umi Nagisa leaned back against the smooth rocks surrounding the pool, letting the heat seep into her skin, her long black hair floating like a silken cloud on the water’s surface. The distant sounds of raised voices drifted through the thin paper walls of the bathhouse, faint but unmistakable. A knowing smile touched her lips; she recognized the sharp tone of her student, Seito Mei.
"Always so quick to anger," Umi thought, the smile widening slightly. She had chosen Mei as her protégé not just for her talent but for that fiery spirit. Yet, it wouldn’t do to let the girl think she had the upper hand. Mei was promising, but she needed tempering, like the finest steel forged in the hottest flames. Umi sighed, closing her eyes as she let the warmth of the spring envelop her.
But her thoughts were soon drawn away from her student’s antics to a more troubling matter—the new deity Mei had invoked: Vasu-Jin, the Serpent God of Venom. The name itself was alien to her, and Umi was well-versed in the pantheon of gods worshiped across the realms. She knew of gods of fire and wind, gods of the deep ocean, even of trickster gods who thrived on chaos, but a serpent god of venom? The notion sent a shiver down her spine despite the heat of the spring.
“Vasu-Jin,” she murmured, tasting the name as if it were poison on her tongue. “What secrets do you hold?”
Her eyes flickered open, a glint of determination flashing within their depths. If there was one thing Umi Nagisa despised, it was the unknown. And gods, in all their divine arrogance, had a way of meddling in mortal affairs when least expected. The fact that she had never heard of this deity before only deepened her resolve to uncover the truth.
Pulling herself out of the water, Umi wrapped a thin silk robe around her damp body, the fabric clinging to her like a second skin. She moved with the grace of a panther, silent and purposeful, as she made her way through the winding corridors of the bathhouse. Her bare feet barely made a sound against the polished wooden floors, worn smooth by centuries of use.
The night air greeted her as she stepped outside, cool and crisp against her flushed skin. The moon hung high above, a silvery crescent casting pale light over the courtyard, where shadows danced among the meticulously pruned bonsai trees. Umi paused, her gaze drawn to the eastern horizon where the stars glittered like a sea of diamonds. Her thoughts wandered to the distant coastal city of Jeyu, where she had once spent her youth.
The memories came unbidden, a rush of scents and sounds—the briny tang of the ocean, the calls of gulls wheeling overhead, the laughter of children playing on the white sandy beaches. Umi had always loved the sea, its vastness a reflection of the endless possibilities that life offered. But those days were long gone, replaced by the rigid duties and responsibilities that came with her position. A faint smile tugged at her lips, bittersweet and fleeting.
"The ocean feels so far away now," she mused. Yet, even in the midst of this secluded mountain retreat, where the only sound was the whisper of the wind through the bamboo groves, she felt a pull—a whisper on the edge of her consciousness, calling her back to the world of gods and spirits.
She needed guidance, and there was only one who could provide it. Steeling herself, Umi made her way to the small shrine tucked away in the corner of the courtyard. The shrine was simple, a testament to its deity’s humility, but it held power nonetheless. Kneeling before it, she lit a single incense stick, the fragrant smoke spiraling upwards.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Mofeyr,” she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath. “Guide me in this tangled web I find myself in. I fear there is more to this serpent god than mere myth. Should I trust this new deity, or is it a danger I must eradicate?”
For a moment, there was nothing but the soft rustle of leaves in the wind. Then, ever so faintly, she felt it—a warmth, like the touch of a hand on her cheek, comforting and familiar.
Umi smiled softly. “Thank you” she whispered. “I shall tread carefully.”
Yet, even as she made her silent vow, a flicker of doubt gnawed at her. The unknown deity loomed like a shadow over her thoughts, and she knew that tonight’s communion would not be an easy one. If Vasu-Jin had truly chosen Mei, it could mean the beginning of something far darker than she had anticipated.
As she rose to her feet, the moonlight casting her shadow long and slender across the courtyard, Umi knew one thing for certain: she would uncover the truth of this serpent god, even if it meant confronting the darkness herself.
----------------------------------------
Seito Mei slammed the sliding door to her room shut with a force that rattled the wooden frame. Her heart was still pounding in her chest, a mix of anger and confusion swirling within her like a storm. That boy, Ezio, had gotten under her skin in a way that no one else ever had.
The image of his infuriating smirk flashed before her eyes, and she clenched her fists. “Pervert,” she muttered under her breath, though she knew deep down that his actions had been more clumsy than lecherous. But the way he had stammered, trying to defend himself—it was almost too pathetic to be real.
Throwing her towel over the wooden rack, Mei caught a glimpse of herself in the small mirror hanging on the wall. Her eyes, a striking blue that marked her as different, stared back at her with a fierceness she didn’t feel. The imperial court had always treated her like an outsider, a stray dog that didn’t belong among purebred hounds. And Ezio’s arrival had only served to remind her of that fact.
“I won’t be looked down upon. Not by him, not by anyone,” she vowed silently.
Her gaze shifted to the tattoo on her back—a coiling serpent with eyes like burning coals, a gift from the god she now served. The mark was a defiance against the empire’s rigid codes, a brand that said she would not be tamed or controlled. Mei traced the outline with her fingers, feeling the raised edges of the ink that still felt foreign on her skin.
The moonlight streamed in through the thin paper walls, bathing her room in a silver glow. Mei sighed, running a hand through her damp hair. The events of the day had left her exhausted, but sleep would not come easily tonight. The inner court was far more intense than she had expected—a crucible where only the strongest survived.
She changed into her nightclothes, a simple cotton yukata that clung to her still-damp skin. The room felt stifling, the walls closing in on her like the expectations that weighed on her shoulders. The other students were all from prestigious families, trained from birth to serve the empire. Mei, on the other hand, was an outsider, a stray taken in out of pity.
As she lay down, her thoughts drifted to her mother, a gentle woman with kind eyes who had sacrificed everything for her. Mei could still remember the scent of herbal medicine that clung to her mother’s clothes, the soft lullabies she would sing when Mei couldn’t sleep. But those memories were tainted by the shadow of her father—a man she had never known, yet whose absence had shaped her life in countless ways.
“I’m doing this for you, Mother,” she whispered into the darkness. “I’ll make something of myself, even if it kills me.”
The silence of the night was broken only by the distant cry of a night bird, a mournful sound that seemed to echo the loneliness she felt. Mei turned onto her side, staring at the moon through the open window. Tomorrow, she would face Ezio again, and this time, she would not let him get the better of her.
As she drifted into a restless sleep, the image of Vasu-Jin, her newfound deity, lingered at the edge of her dreams—a serpentine figure coiled in shadows, watching, waiting. There was something about the god that called to her, a power that both thrilled and terrified her. She had pledged herself to Vasu-Jin without fully understanding what that meant, and now she was bound to a path that could lead to greatness—or destruction.