Chapter Fifteen

Hel sat at the bone table with Osiris at one end and Hades at the other. Izanagi sat across from Hel. His face buried into the scrolls before him and fingers black with ink. Hel picked up her copper fork and pushed the fruit and meat around on her plate. Hades had already eaten his fill and is humming a tune she wasn’t too familiar with while Osiris just sits with his royal posture, arms folded across his chest.

Being the smallest one at the table, Hel couldn’t stop herself from imagining how easily it would be for them to overcome her. To rip each bone out of her body and tear away what flesh she did have. Using her fleshy right hand, Hel began touching the skin on her face, wincing at every pimple, wrinkle, rough patch of skin–no matter how small. She envisioned a grotesque troll with a skeleton half.

Izanagi’s fists slammed the table’s surface snapping Hel back into the room around them. “This is an outrage! How can they expect us to fulfill these orders?”

Tossing the scrolls across the table Hel’s curiosity peaked. She leaned forward trying to decipher the words written down. Hear heart sinking whens he simply saw shapes and marks going in what seemed to be all directions.

“Calm yourself my guy. Things will be fine. What can they do if we can’t keep up?” Hades put a leg over the arm of his chair, ignoring the fact that all he was wearing was a black toga.

“Cover yourself whore.”

“You know you love me Izzy,” Hades winked at Izanagi and smiled at Hel. Izanagi and Hades began to argue, their voices rising. Hel sunk deep into her seat. Tears flowing from her face as she pushed the food around on her plate with her copper fork.

“Something wrong?” Osiris’s voice almost seemed to soften when he addressed Hel. She shook her head and shoved her fists in her lap staring at the deep blue dress she wore.

“Probably the cook’s fault,” Izanagi answered back. He reached his arm up to snap his fingers to summon the cook. Panicked for the life of the innocent creator of means, Hel looked up and wiped her tears from her face.

“N-no! Nothing is wrong with the food. I just…,” unsure of the words Hel looked back at the ground. She could feel all six eyes staring at her in confusion.

“Izzy, my man. Have you shown Hel your space?” Hades asked Izanagi but his eyes remained on Hel.

“Why would–” Izanagi could feel Osiris’s eyes beating on him as he began to protest. “Whatever.” Izanagi slammed the scroll onto the table, “not like these orders need to be filled or anything Yeah Izanagi just do everything to ensure the Underworld is running smoothly-HEL! Are you coming or what!? Stupid! Stupid! I do so much around here just add tour guide into the mix-” Izanagi continued to mutter to himself as she stalked out of the room. Hel scooted off her chair, lifting her room dress slightly to run after and catch up to Izanagi.

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When she was certain they were out of ear shot, Hel interrupted Izanagi’s complaints, “I am sorry to put you out. I do not understand why Sir. Hades–”

“No. Never call him that, especially not to his face.”

Hel nodded.

“You will understand soon”, Izanagi paused. Hel blinked slowly, mimicking behavior she saw B do to indicate that she was listening to the person speaking. “This way,” Izanagi grunted.

Hel followed him through the giant willow wood door. It heaved in sadness. Books and scrolls littered the floor leaving only a narrow passage for them to step. What Hel could only assume to be a desk was covered with papers and scrolls, unable to make any distinction on what the desk was made of other than piles of literature and notes. The walls all around them looked as though they were one dust particle away from collapsing under the weight of their contents. Behind the desk, the only wall not covered with shelves. Instead, there stood what looked to be an oil painting. Hel’s breath caught within her throat as she approaches the beautiful work of art.

On the left, a portrait of a young Iznaagi–his silky peppered black hair tied back into a low braid, wearing sapphire blue robes trimmed in a ruby red color. His is holding the hilt of a Red Sword with beautiful waves and wind crashing behind him. His face is fierce and very serious as he looked down at the stunning woman on the left.

Her hair decorated with Manjushage, Red Spider Lilly. Her eyes remain closed and her profile shines a beautiful woman of Akihito decent. Her long deeply black hair in a bun and resting against her neck. Her Kimono adorned with a floral pattern of blues and reds. Her pale lips shine in contrast to her rosy cheeks and the tip of her nose. Her hand rests above Izanagi’s on the hilt of the Red Sword.

Izanagi’s face remains glued to the flood. Hel’s throat tightens as she takes a closer step to the painting. Stumbling around the desk and mess, Hel reaches out with her left hand to the painting. IN a poof of smoke, Iznagain appears and holds Hel’s wrist tightly, freezing her in place.

Hel’s eyes darts over to Izanagi. Normally, she would sense fear but all she could feel from him was a deep sorrow oozing from his being. Izanagi is a man of seriousness and order. But in her heart, Hel saw the man whom once stood for the painting. A man so deeply in love–nothing mattered and nothing could stand in his way.

“Only, someone did,” Izanagi’s voice was hollow. Hel gasped-unsure if she thought that last part or spoke it outloud. Izanagi shook his head and let go of Hel’s wrist. “I will not tell you the story. It is much too painful. But it is improper for you to be in my quarters unattended.” Izanagi stole a quick glance at the woman in the painting out of the corner of his eye before directing his intense gaze back onto Hel. With the hand that once held Hel in place, he snapped his fingers.

The room shifted it’s form, clearing the desk and shelves of all the words and data making room for a luxurious plush chair to appear in their place. Izanagi sat in it, his back facing the panting. Hel stood between them, unsure of what to do next. She could feel the deep sorrow felt within Izanagi. Her eyes watering at the surge of emotion being expressed. Never in her life had she experienced a love the way in which Izanagi felt for this woman in the painting. Fearing what will come next, Hel placed a gentle hand onto the painting. Feeling dizzy, the room warped away and soon-she was lost in a vision from the past.