Tsukiakari, with her cute, little girl voice and precious eyes, tried as hard as she could to yell in a threatening matter. Needless to say, she only succeeded in being the most adorable thing in the room. That alone was enough to pity her, somewhat.

“Well?! Explain yourselves! Don't make me smite you!” Tsukiakari threatened, pointing her finger at Izanami.

“Umm...well...you see, the only way I could reduce your powers to a manageable level was by reversing your age.” Izanami explained. “We’ve done this before, remember? It’s not really a big deal.”

“Your solution was to turn me into a little girl again?! I hate you!”

Tsukiakari attempted to charge at Izanami, only to trip on her elongated yukata and bump her elbow on the floor. Isabella could hardly contain her laughter as Tsukiakari got up on her feet and started knocking her gentle, little fists against Izanami's chest.

“Corpse! Cadaver! Crypt Queen! Morgue Princess! Give me my age back!”

Izanami picked her up by the armpits like one would do to a baby. “Now listen here, Gekko. Do you know why you've been able to stay alive this whole time? It's because I’ve been the one protecting you! You have to remember that you can’t reincarnate anymore! You’ve got to stop wasting your life, Gekko!”

“I do what I want, and what I want is Osamu! I'm going to take Osamu to the heavens with me, and we're going to get married with Amaterasu's blessing!” Tsukiakari declared.

Osamu found it hard to take that seriously. “Heh…how low is the age of consent in heaven?”

“You could marry me at birth if you wanted to!” Tsukiakari replied

Osamu gasped. “Seriously?!”

“There will be no marriage! I won't have it!” Yoko roared. “You’ve already beaten me to a pulp, and now you've been dropped into my home! Follow my rules or become a stray god, you little cretin!”

Bombarded with such awful words, Tsukiakari’s eyes began to water, and her lips trembled.

(Oh no...)

The cute little war goddess began to cry into Izanami's chest, hugging her tightly.

“Yoko!” Izanami groaned.

“Hey, I know the situation is unfair for us, but we can't go around making little girls cry, Yoko!” Isabella scolded.

Yoko bit her lip in vexation. “Damn her…"

Izanami patted Tsukiakari's head and caressed her blushing cheeks, wiping away the tears that ran down. “There there, Gekko. Everything is okay. Yoko, you should apologize.”

Yoko sighed, releasing her anger for at least a moment “I’m sorry, Tsukiakari.”

Tsukiakari chuckled. “That’s what the hell I thought.”

“Fuck did you just say to me?!” Yoko screamed. “When I get better, I swear, you're dead! Amaterasu can sue me for all I care! Screw her and you!”

The pain of her wounds was the only thing keeping Yoko from ripping out Tsukiakari's hair and force-feeding her the tufts by the handful.

“Yoko, please!” Isabella pleaded.

“I'll take her to bed so she can rest. Izzy, can you give Gekko a room?” Izanami asked.

“Sure thing. Come here....uhh...what can I call you? Tsukiakari is a bit of a long name, and if we're going to be living together, I don't want to use a last-name-basis.”

“Gekko or Tsu Tsu are both fine with me.” Tsukiakari said, her arms crossed.

“Tsu Tsu?! That's so adorable! I'll call you that! Come! I'll show you around!” Isabella sang.

Tsukiakari held Isabella's hand as they went upstairs, more out of necessity than any newfound affection. Tsukiakari was just a little too short to climb the stairs by herself. Watching them head upstairs, Osamu noticed a family crest on the back of Tsukiakari's haori, waiting until they were out of listening range to pose the question.

“Hey, Izanami. That crest on the back of her yukata…"

“It’s the family crest of the Senkumo clan. Gekko never stopped wearing it after the whole Warring States debacle ended. She kept it to honor those that perished throughout the clan’s history”

“She still cares about all of that, centuries later?” Yoko questioned

Izanami's eyes narrowed in pain as she thought back to the legacy of the crest and Tsukiakari’s involvement. “There were many orphaned children just like her, but she was special because of her divine lineage. Bishamon used the chaos of the Onin War in order to pull in troops for the Senkumo clan, in preparation for the Warring States period. Everyone shared that bond in the clan. They had all lost something, whether it was their friends, family, or homes. Bishamon used their pain to get them to take up his cause.”

“You mean they were forced to fight.” Osamu assumed.

“Forced? No, not at all. The Senkumo fought of their own volition, but they were ultimately manipulated into trusting Bishamon. Gekko and her clan were firm believers that a revenue-generating stratocracy could survive as a sovereign state. To realize that goal, Gekko had to kill a lot of people. She was fearsome, calamity incarnate. I had to take care of a lot of souls because of her.”

(Not only is she just a war goddess...but a mass murderer too?)

“If she's such a prodigy, why hasn't she been given her own shrine? Why have people forgotten about her?” Yoko asked.

“Well, since the Senkumo clan was under direct control of Bishamon, most of the prayers and praise went to him. They would fight alongside him in battle, and he'd keep providing them with shelter, food, and protection. In Tsukiakari's case, this relationship allowed her to reincarnate, even if she fell in battle.” Izanami explained.

Osamu could hardly stand to hear anymore. He had no idea Izanami was involved in such dark history. “What the hell were you gods doing back then? All of this is just so messed up in so many different ways.”

Izanami’s tongue stood as still as stone. It seemed there were things that even a god could not speak of.

When night fell upon them, Isabella prepared a hot bath for Tsukiakari and herself. Tsukiakari undressed in the bedroom as Isabella filled up the tub.

“Bath's ready, Tsu Tsu!” Isabella sang.

The young goddess sauntered into the steamed up bathroom, both her and Isabella in the nude.

This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Wow, your hair is so long! Maybe we should wash it while we're here.” Isabella suggested.

Tsukiakari couldn't keep her eyes off of Isabella's chest. “How did they get so big?”

“How did...oh! My breasts?” Isabella said. “Well, the government pumps the milk back home with estrogen, of course! And of course, diet and genetics come into play. I'm not the first or last one in my family to have big boobs.”

“Back home? Which prefecture are you from?”

Tsukiakari sat down on a stool as Isabella unraveled her hair and started spraying it down with water.

“I actually wasn't born in Japan. I was born and raised in the United States.” Isabella clarified.

Tsukiakari’s eyes lit up with wonder and curiosity. “Wow! What's it like there?”

“It's beautiful! There are all sorts of different kinds of people there, and there's a lot of landscape diversity. Cultures kind of blend together into a big mess, and we call that mess America.”

Isabella lathered up some shampoo and worked it in from Tsukiakari's roots down to her ends. It was in that moment that Isabella was able to take a look at Tuskiakari's back. It was covered in laceration scars and keloids, as if someone had beaten her across the back with a whip.

“Oh my god...Tsu Tsu, what happened? Did Yoko do that to you?”

Tsukiakari’s expression reflected confusion at first, but she soon realized Izzy was talking about her back. “Oh, no. Don't mind those. They're old.”

“Well...okay. Just let me know if it burns or anything, alright?”

Tsukiakari nodded. “Thanks…”

With everyone bathed, the girls all got ready to join Osamu in bed, still sleeping together like a big family. Except for the young goddess, who stood by the door as the rest of the girls settled in their comfy sheets. There was a mix of fear and anger in Tsukiakari’s face as she stood there in her overgrown yukata.

“What's up, Gekko?” Izanami asked, sitting up.

“I…Osamu…" Tsukiakari grumbled. “I wanna sleep with Osamu too!”

Yoko staggered out of bed, her body aching with every move. “This bitch…"

“Yoko, you're not supposed to move around so much!” Osamu warned.

Yoko lifted the back of night gown, teasing Osamu with a quick view her pillowy, left butt cheek. “Kiss my ass, Osamu.”

“Remind me to take a picture of that and frame it…” Isabella whispered to herself.

“That's so yuri, Izzy! D-did I do it right, Osamu? Did I socialize correctly?” Izanami asked with a smug, proud smile.

“Yeah, more or less. Five stars to you, Izanami.” Osamu answered.

Yoko stood high and proud above the little war goddess, her blue eyes fiercely contesting with Tsukiakari's red eyes. “Now listen here, only worthy women are allowed to sleep anywhere near Osamu. There's me, his future wife until one of us dies, and the two flesh pillows, Isabella and Izanami.”

“I'm not a flesh pillow!” Isabella protested.

“The only reason why they're allowed to sleep near him is because, I, the alpha female of the pack, permitted it.” Yoko explained. “Little girl, maybe you used to be a goddess of calamity and mass murder, but you better fear me like you fear god and death itself. Your life is in our hands. There's no telling if you'll reincarnate again, so humble yourself. You're lucky I don't make you sleep in the rain, in the garbage can, or in the oven.”

“You think you scare me?” Tsukiakari scoffed. “I fought armies and phantoms in my time. I’ve met turnips that were more dangerous than you!”

“N-now now, surely we can compromise, right?” Izanami asked with rapidly increasing worry.

Yoko suddenly spun around with a smile on her face. You could almost actually see the light bulb above her head. “You know what, Izanami, we sure can!”

Yoko reached into he drawer and pulled out a piece of caramel candy. “I originally wanted to melt these and lick them off of Osamu's chest, but this will have to do.”

“You what?!” Osamu recoiled.

Tsukiakari exploded in a fit of laughter. “If you think some lousy piece of candy is going to…"

Yoko unraveled the candy, presenting its smooth, caramel goodness to Tsukiakari like a divine offering. The only thing reflected off of her pupils was the candy, trapping her in an irresistible hypnosis that no child her age could ignore.

Yoko played Tsukiakari for some dog or cat. “Come on, you know you want to! Come get the candy! Who's a good girl? Who's a good wittle girl?”

(She's not a puppy, Yoko...)

Completely enthralled, Tsukiakari gave in to the caramel temptation staring her in the eye. “I-I’m a good wittle girl!”

(She fell for it?!?!)

It was like watching Jesus work miracles. Tsukiakari couldn't even keep her balance anymore. She was lured out of the room on all fours like a little puppy, lead down the stairs and into the kitchen, drooling as she crawled.

Yoko opened the oven with her other hand, the light inside automatically turning on inside the dark kitchen. “That's a good girl! Go get the candy and die in a five-hundred degree box! Go get it, little cutie!”

(How could she still be falling for this?!)

Tsukiakari climbed inside the oven, allowing Yoko to close it on her as she ate the candy.

“Alright! Welcome, everyone, to Mama Yoko's Spectacular Cooking Show! Today, we're going to be making Roasted Loli War Goddess!” Yoko sang.

*Studio crowd applause*

(Since when do we have a studio crowd? Are we a sitcom now?! How can we even afford this?!)

“No wonder our paychecks got smaller…” Isabella complained, breaching her contract and forcing the narration to acknowledge her displeasure with her pay.

Yoko continued.“Our little war goddess is already naturally packed with flavors! Stupidity, inferiority, gullibility, all sorts of delicious, intramuscular qualities that every horrible woman has! So, there's no real need for seasoning, but we have just given her a caramel cube to add a little sweetness to her peppery personality!”

Even Isabella and Osamu were applauding. Izanami looked nothing short of annoyed and a little confused.

“Spotlight please!” Yoko shouted.

And this was the moment that not even the narrator could explain where Yoko was getting all of this theatrical equipment from.

“Don't just leave us in the dark when we need you the most! What kind of narrator are you?!” Osamu lectured, as if he works half as hard as the narrator.

“No wonder our paychecks got smaller…” Isabella repeated like a broken record very close to losing her job.

Yoko grabbed some green onion, lemons, and garlic, along with a cutting board and knife. “Now then, we're going to be adding in some onions, lemons, and garlic as the rotten little bitch cooks! You want to add this in early as some of the outside layers of fat start to melt and produce those sweet juices!”

Tsukiakari banged on the oven from the inside. “Hey! What is this?! Let me out!”

“Awww, how cute! Our meal thinks its life matters!” Yoko swooned.

*Sound of audience Aww'ing*

“This isn't funny, Yoko! Let me out!” Tsukiakari whined.

Yoko cut up the ingredients, opened the oven, and threw them in Tsukiakari's face before shutting the oven again. Onions, lemons, and garlic irritated Tsukiakari's nose and eyes, making her cry.

“Ta da!” Yoko cheered. “I feel like I'm forgetting something…"

Summoning whatever power she could, Tsukiakari shattered the oven's glass frame from the inside, the force of the blast knocking Yoko against the cabinets.

“Izanami, I thought you said she was harmless!” Osamu exclaimed.

Izanami shrugged. “Well…I made her younger, so she can't use her powers like she did in the first fight between her and Yoko. But, she's still a goddess, so I'd be careful.”

(No one is safe!)

Tukiakari started beating Yoko over the head with a rolling pin as she yelled in agony on the kitchen floor. What a turn of the tide. What a one hundred-eighty degree spin of the proverbial table. For all of that work, Yoko was getting beaten like a pound of dough in her own home.

“Oo, a fight! Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!” Isabella chanted.

Isabella stopped when she realized the others were looking at her with perplexed expressions. Talk about awkward.

“Hehe...it's a...it's a thing in America. Stop looking at me like I'm a cross-dresser or something!”

“Sure thing, weirdo.” Osamu said in a dismissive tone.

“I won't judge you for wearing men's underwear, Isabella.” Izanami assured, clearly demonstrating she had no idea what anyone was talking about.

Isabella groaned in annoyance, and the three watched the fight continue on for a good while, letting Yoko get what she deserved for literally luring a young girl into an oven. Izanami walked into the spotlight and bowed, flashing her pretty smile.

“Please excuse us! The mortals are acting up again!”

*WE ARE EXPERIENCING TECHNICAL DIFFICULTIES. THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE*

(In the end, Yoko conceded and allowed Tsukiakari to sleep with us. And so, I began to sleep in the same bed with four different girls every night, one of them small enough to use my chest as a bed in itself. What on earth, have I gotten myself into? I wonder if I should just give up and try being gay. No Osamu! Don't think like that! Don't turn this into a yaoi harem!)

Osamu’s eyes were trained on the Senkumo family crest on the back of Tsukiakari’s haori, all of the girls sound asleep. Izanami’s telling of Tsukiakari's past only made him more and more curious about the crest and the history of the clan that forced her to live through over a hundred years of constant strife and warfare, in service to Bishamon himself.

(I have a bad feeling about all of this. Like I'm walking into territory that I would be wise to stay away from...)

The moonlight shined on Tsukiakari's sleeping face as Izanami pulled her closer in her sleep. It was going to be another sleepless of unproductive contemplation for Osamu. His mind just couldn’t leave Tsukiakari’s story alone. He hadn’t seen the girl since kindergarten, but she remembered him all of this time. He snickered to himself, not because anything was funny, but because he realized something. Once again, he had forgotten while a woman that loved him remembered.

“I won’t let this be a repeat of Aika. I’ll do anything to help you, Tsukiakari.”