Following that horrendous night, the young goddess fled from her home in Heaven, descending upon the Honshu island of Japan. The world of mortals lacked Heaven’s hollow splendor and endless sunshine. It was a change that proved difficult for Tsukiakari to grow accustomed to.

The cold darkness of the night, a natural reality for mortals, frightened her. In her world, she had only ever known eternal daylight. Japan was home to tempestuous tsunamis, torrential rainfall, and unyielding heat waves in the summer. It brought forth cloudy skies and dying leaves in the autumn and blankets of snow during the winter.

Tsukiakari had to live in a world of seasons, a world shared by animals and humans alike, vulnerable to the often destructive whim of Mother Nature. Though these changes terrified her, spring was the season that captured her heart. She found herself spellbound by the emergence of aromatic cherry blossoms and breezy, temperate weather. She realized the unique beauty of the mortal world with spring’s blue skies and the flowers that would bloom beneath them.

However, the physical and emotional solitude that smothered her in Heaven did not change on Earth. For most of her time among the mortals, she continued to sit alone with no one to talk to, watching and listening as people passed by, tucked between alleys and roadsides. At, least on Earth, there was no gossip about her and her family.

Still, it was incredibly lonely there for Tsukiakari, and she wondered if she would ever find her place in a world so different from home. She wondered what she would do there, and how she could make a name for herself now that she was no longer a princess. So, for the next three years, Tsukiakari roamed the island, listless and without direction, searching for a purpose.

Eventually, it found her.

It was the middle of the 15th century. Conflict swelled in Japan’s capital, Kyoto, and anyone bearing the name Ashikaga found themselves at the center of the upheaval. The Ashikaga shogunate ruled Japan from within the city. During the reign of the shogunate's 8th ruler, Yoshimasa Ashikaga, controversy arose over who would succeed him, for he had no heirs. To amend the issue, Yoshimasa summoned his younger brother, Yoshimi, to the imperial palace.

The day Yoshimi arrived, he and Yoshimasa sat together on the tatami mats of the latter’s tea room, bathed in amber light from pagoda torches hung over the walls. Yoshimasa, dressed in black robes that covered most of his body, stroked his long, black goatee as he put down his tea cup, glaring at his younger brother. Yoshimi was but a monk, uninterested in the world of politics.

“I must ask you to take up a rough role, brother.” Yoshimasa said. “I do not have an heir, and unfortunately, this puts the stability of the dynasty at great risk. I need a successor, and quickly. You are my only option, Yoshimi. Please, forego your life as a monk and relocate here. If I adopt you into the fold, people will accept your ascension to Shogun when the time comes.”

“Yoshimasa, what you're asking of me...” Yoshimi groaned.

“I know, and I'm sorry, but it must be done. The country will fall into chaos if a successor is not chosen. Uncertainty breeds conflict and sows discord. I do not want that kind of instability to split these lands. Please, accept this position.”

Hesitant, but understanding his responsibility, Yoshimi accepted.

A great burden had been lifted off of Yoshimasa’s shoulders. By adopting his brother as the heir to the shogunate, he had successfully avoided a power vacuum from opening up within Kyoto. He knew what it meant to have a powerful title, but more importantly, he knew that Japan’s feudal class system led everyone around him to covet his seat. Peasants, noblemen, soldiers, and even loyal generals all imagined themselves as Shogun, as the masters of the country. It would’ve been all too easy for one hasty general and his band of soldiers to rebel if they smelled blood in the water

Despite Yoshimasa's attempt to curtail this chaos before it could start, his efforts were nullified by a very surprising and peculiar event. Only a mere three weeks after appointing Yoshimi as his heir, Tomiko, Yoshimasa's wife, birthed him a son. The birth of Yoshimasa’s son proved troublesome, for it once again raised the question of succession.

The problem was no longer that Yoshimasa had no heir, but rather, which heir would actually succeed him? Finding the Ashikaga’s claim to power under threat once more, Yoshimi and Tomiko met in the privacy of Yoshimasa's chambers to discuss the matter of his succession.

“You...you what?” Yoshimasa questioned, shocked.

“I believe our son should inherit the title of shogun. The shogunate is his birthright,” Tomiko sternly replied as she stood, rocking her infant son, Yoshihisa. Her long, black hair was tied behind her back in a lengthy ponytail that stretched down to her rear. A red ribbon, tied into a neat and orderly bow, decorated the half-point of the ponytail.

“Tomiko, you fool! I've already chosen Yoshimi to be my successor! This child comes far too late now!”

“With all due respect, Tomiko…” Yoshimi interjected, “I've already accepted my position as heir. The other clans and feudal lords all…”

“I don't care if they've all accepted you," Tomiko interrupted. “You didn't even want the position when my husband first handed it to you! The shogunate travels in our bloodline's descending order, which means our son is the heir! Or is it that you plan to rob him of that?”

“It is not your decision, Tomiko! I am the shogun! I rule this country and its people! I, and only I, decide who takes my place! Let's go, Yoshimi!” Yoshimasa shouted.

Yoshimasa and Yoshimi bitterly departed, but Tomiko would not be silenced by her husband's words. She had no intention of letting her son have his birthright stolen from him by a mere monk. Her assumption to Yoshihisa's right to the shogunate alienated her from the shogun himself, as well as his deputies. However, deputies like Sozen Yamana supported Tomiko and her child's claim to the shogunate.

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Sozen was a powerful daimyo and monk in Kyoto, hailing from the Yamana warrior clan. Recognized for his red, sunbaked complexion, he was known as “The Red Monk”, a title he wasn’t all too fond of. Sozen and the Yamana clan were case studies of Yoshimasa’s supposition, that the country’s class system encouraged everyone around him to covet his seat.

In the two hundred years since the clan’s founding, the Yamana found themselves surpassed and bested by numerous other clans. The Hosokawa clan in particular had a history of quarrels with the Yamana, always managing to come out on top and gain prestige within Kyoto, while the Yamana saw little to no advancement in their standing.

So, the Yamana saw the vexing irony in Sozen’s son-in-law, Katsumoto Hosokawa, having a better title than him. Katsumoto, twenty-six years younger than his father-in-law, was one of the Shogun’s personal deputies. He had everything Sozen did not; A direct line to Yoshimasa, abundant wealth, and powerful allies in the noble ranks of society. Though Sozen resented him for this, he never dared to engage Katsumoto in open battle. For years, he had brooded and plotted, waiting for the right moment to strip his son-in-law of everything he had. That opportunity came with the re-opened question of Yoshimasa’s successor.

While Katsumoto declared his support for the Shogun’s brother, Sozen took Tomiko’s side on the matter, knowing she was seeking strong, military allies to support her. Sozen was more than willing to bet the stability of the shogunate on his own, petty grievances with Katsumoto. In stern opposition to each other, both of the covetous commanders gathered their men and drew up their plans of war. These two powerful leaders, both with huge armies eighty-thousand men at their disposal each, came into conflict.

Intense fighting engulfed Kyoto, and Tsukiakari was unlucky enough to get caught in the middle of it all. The city was in a complete state of disarray. The mansions of Sozen Yamana and Hosokawa Katsumoto were leveled to the ground, and the city itself became a mess of sizzling debris still aglow with traces of dying fire.

Countless buildings houses and shops were all destroyed in the intense fighting that raged on in the streets. With no place to hide, Tsukiakari was forced to wander the roads, tripping over the blood-washed corpses of soldiers from both sides of the fighting.

The bustling city had grown silent and deadly. It was the first time Tsukiakari had been exposed to something as horrific as war. She covered her mouth and nose as she walked through the lifeless streets, trying to avoid the stench, trying not to let her eyes meet the scarlet puddles at her feet. Just then, the distant voices of soldiers rushing through the gutted neighborhood brought Tsukiakari's fearful march to a standstill.

“Kill anyone you see here, armed or not!” an armored swordsman yelled from across the way.

His men replied with a synchronous grunt as they continued through the streets, slaying enemies and civilians alike.

Yoshimi...the heir? Tsukiakari pondered.

“Hey, you there!” a voice called out.

Tsukiakari stood in silent shock as she laid eyes on two fully armored soldiers wielding sheathed blades at their hips. The Ashikaga clan’s crest adorned their chest plates as they stood tall, towering over her shivering frame.

“Leave, you damned brat! Go home!” one of them demanded.

“I...I can't go home...I don't have one..," Tsukiakari muttered.

“A stray?” inquired the other soldier.

“Use your damn head. Her parents were probably killed in all of the chaos,” the first soldier suggested.

“Should we just leave her?” the second soldier questioned.

“Coming across child combatants is rare here, but it's not like it's never happened. Plus, she's got good reason to try and get revenge. Might as well just put her down like everyone else.”

“What? I'm going to die," Tsukiakari asked, horrified.

The soldiers unsheathed their blades as Tsukiakari stood frozen in terror. The words of her mother came back to her, words explaining the evil of killing. Having always lived under Amaterasu’s wing, the thought of death never resonated with Tsukiakari.

But now, she was a stray who had no heavenly name of her own for people to pray to. If a god could not be worshiped, they could not reincarnate. Sensing the permanence of her impending death, Tsukiakari lifted a sword from the ground, prying it out of a dead soldier's cold and bloody hands.

“Damn it, I told you! Give them a chance and even a child will arm herself! Kill her,” one of the soldiers shouted.

“Please stop," Tsukiakari urged in tears. “I don't want to do this!”

Neither of them listened. Before she knew it, one of their swords was already raised skyward for a vertical strike, leaving Tsukiakari no choice but to fight or die. Her eyes shut themselves, preparing for whatever her body would decide to do. In that crucial moment, Tsukiakari blacked out.

Those few, blank seconds passed her by. Realizing the men in front of her had gone silent, Tsukiakari opened her eyes. The two soldiers that nearly killed her lied dead at her feet. The first died from a slash to his neck, staining her hands and kimono in blood. The other had the blade she wielded impaled through his chest. It all happened as fast as a flash of lightning.

Realizing what she had just done, Tsukiakari once again thought of her mother’s words, her stern condemnation of murder. Her father was a murderer, and her mother attempted to strangle her mere moments after condemning such an act. On that day, Tsukiakari too became a murderer. The sword fell from her trembling hand as she fell to the ground, weeping.

As she balled up and sobbed alone in the hazy, smoky street, the sound of footsteps crunching against the dirt made her raise her head. A towering figure emerged from the veil of smoke and approached her.

She recognized the man standing before her, from his bearded face, his long, black hair, and his towering, muscular stature. Three bracelets of red prayer beads decorated his left wrist, while a glittering, golden band adorned his right. Despite the blood and ash all around them, the man’s white robes were untainted.

Wearing an impressed smirk, the man spoke to the trembling princess of Heaven with a calm, yet intimidating voice full of bass and presence. Somewhere far beyond the eyes of that shaking, scared little girl, he saw something ferocious. He saw the springtime of calamity itself, a girl that could make the flowers of carnage and war bloom on the battlefield.

“Are you all right,” he asked, extending his hand to the shell-shocked Tsukiakari. “I am Lord Bishamon. Come. Let us get you out of here. This is no place for a stray goddess.”