“Tell me about this Oni, where did he come from? How long has he dwelled on Mt Ibuki’s slopes.”

Susanoo-no-mikoto made idle chatter with the villager guiding him, Sato. His sword rested on his shoulder, himself unafraid of its edge.

Sato glanced at the Kami nervously. The foliage around them was still damp from the rain, the mud they trodded on was also uncomfortable. Even if the Kami was undisturbed, he was just a mortal man.

“Kami-sama, I only know some tales. All of which I’ve sure a Kami such as yourself would know, and know more about then I.” His words were full of honesty. After all, any mortal would assume a god knew more then them.

Kamis like Susanoo controlled all of reality. They were worshipped widely throughout Nippon, from the imperial capital, to various major cities. Mt Ibuki was ultimately a small unimportant place. It’s local object of worship surely cannot be so grand to catch one of the Amatsukami’s attention.

“Tell me of him,” Susanoo demanded again. His power was not displayed, but his words carried enormous amounts of authority. It was like listening to crashing waves and roaring thunder. Sato felt deep seated fear of the god.

So he began telling him of old legends regarding Mt Ibuki. Stories told to him by his parents, and their parents before them.

Long ago, when the land was barren, when no vegetation grew, and saltwater still permeated on the surface. Izanagi-no-Okami and Izanami-no-Okami had just risen Nippon from its place beneath the endless ocean. They moulded mountains, shaped rivers, planted forests and plains.

Of the creator gods of old, this couple were the ones responsible for much of the mortal world. But despite their efforts. Mt Ibuki had already been in existence. Before the two even started their work, Mt Ibuki already stood on the risen land of Nippon.

At least, that was what the Oni King said to his ancestors who’d first settled on Mt Ibuki.

“That old huh?” Susanoo murmured, half listening and half maintaining his composure. His excitement was boiling beneath his skin. Old yokai were typically the strongest of yokai, elder ascended or near that. They can prove capable to help him sharpen his blade.

Ame-no-Habakiri was a special sword passed down to him from his own forefathers. A sword forged from the gaseous ki emitted from the pores on the endless ocean’s seafloor. Since the beginning of time, the endless ocean had always been a source for such sharp and dangerous ki.

Susanoo himself often wondered why that was.

Sato continued his tale, unaware of Susanoo’s internal thoughts. His story led back to the Oni king who lazed around Mt Ibuki. To the people present, it presented no imminent danger. It never harassed, nor hunted them for food.

Instead, it had even kept other wondering yokai away from Mt Ibuki. If one were to ignore regular does of heavy rain, Mt Ibuki would be an ideal place for settlement. Hence the villagers began worshipping the Oni over time as some sort of protector god.

Such practise was not uncommon for mortals. Yokai are often times worshipped locally over any of the prominent Amatsukami or Kunitsukami. None of either factions found offence to this. Of course, these yokai would over time ascend to become Kami and join either.

“And the snakes?”

One of the quirks was, despite Sato’s claim to worship the Oni, much of the shrines they’d passed depicted serpents. Around Kiyomizu village, snake imagery was all Susanoo had seen.

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“Oh that…well I suppose it’s because waterborne snakes are his icon. I’m honestly not too sure. My father never told me why, just that we used it. This is the way, he’d say.”

“I see.”

The two arrived after two hours of slow trekking at an alter. This was where offerings were placed annually for the Oni king. As the recent most offering was not too long ago, food scraps remained on the stone platform.

It was a crude structure, inelegant and primal in appearance. The torches had long since been smouldered and an odd stench remained. There were no damages to the crudely carved stone, no doubt to mimic the appearance of the Oni king as a sign of respect. Obviously, the people at the time were not skilled craftsman.

‘Remote, unimportant, small population, I can see why I’d never heard of it.’ Susanoo took his sword off his shoulder and planted it on ground. It’s edge stabbed through the stone platform making a loud cracking sound. Sato was stunned, falling back to his rear.

‘But what I can’t understand is why such a powerful Oni like Ibaraki-Doji would mention this place. Did he trick me? Surely not, he wouldn’t dare with my sword at his throat.’

“The…the shrine…” Sato uttered.

“Hmph. Oni of Mt Ibuki, come out this instant,” Susanoo demanded. A crackling electrical aura manifested around him. The sky overhead began darkening as if a storm had arrived. It did not rain just yet, but the clouds appeared heavy enough to do so at any time.

For several minutes, nothing happened. This irritated the god, so used to getting his way, that he stabbed through the stone platform again. This time, lightning roared overheard, and rain did pour down. Mt Ibuki shook ever so slightly from his small display of power.

Then Susanoo felt a faint presence. Finally, after all that, the Oni king of Mt Ibuki finally took notice. He could tell it came from near the peak of the mountain. ‘How typical, arrogant enough to live among the clouds.’

Mt Ibuki was just barely tall enough to touch the clouds, making it a gargantuan mountain. From its peak, one would appear to posses the vision of a Shinrei. But only the Amatsukami were fit to posses that authority. Maybe the ryu from the endless ocean too, but their existence had always been enigmatic to Susanoo.

The presence was moving quick now. It rolled down the mountain, making large leaps. Each of his steps were like waves crashing against the mountain. Mt Ibuki was not near the ocean, very inland in fact. But still the smell of saltwater reached Susanoo’s nose.

“Oh no! We’ve disturbed him.”

“Oh calm down will you. I am here.” Susanoo payed Sato little mind. Fully engrossed on the approaching powerhouse of an Oni. To him, this being clearly exuded a class of power on par with a Tenma. Yet unlike Tenma he’d met before, there seemed to be something strange about it.

FOOM!

Before he could finish his thoughts however, the Oni king made landfall right before him. The stone platform was smashed in two from his footsteps. His red horns arched back as he raised his head to look at Susanoo.

Of the two, Susanoo was the larger man. He was tall, muscular, broad, with wide shoulders and thick eyebrows. He was burly, fit for a warrior god. In comparison, the Oni was not small. But he was definitely shorter, wearing exquisite clothing unlike the beast pelts Susanoo had imagined him in.

“Quite loud,” the Oni king spoke first. On his back was a sword designed similarly to his own Ame-no-Habakiri. It was covered in bandages, its ki entirely inert to Susanoo’s senses. But the Oni himself was obviously powerful. “I was eating.”

“Ibaraki told me a powerful Oni taught him the way of the sword. That this Oni lived on Mt Ibuki.”

“Hm, that kid was good with a sword.” The Oni shrugged remembering fondly. “Helped me sharpen mine.”

“So you do know him.” Susanoo raised his sword to his side in a stance. “Then know that I am Susanoo-no-Mikoto of the highest trinity of the Amatsukami. Slayer of unruly Oni and protector of the lands. I’m here to challenge this so called, master of the sword, to see if he is worthy of handling one.”

“Oh?” The Oni scratched his head. There was some familiarity, though he couldn’t quote recall why he found such names familiar. But upon seeing the hostility, he clenched his sword by the handle and lowered it till before him.

“You bring a sword, demand to fight me with a sword? Okay then.”

Susanoo nodded with satisfaction, this Oni had the spirit of a warrior. The bandages fell off one after the other, revealing a sword of swords. This halted the storm god.

“What is this? Some sort of joke?” Susanoo’s face scrunched. His temper rose, feeling offended at the mockery displayed before him.

In this Oni king’s hand, connected to the hilt was a metallic blade. But unlike Ame-no-Habakiri, this sword lacked its entire blade. It stopped about halfway up its blade, revealing a shattered form.

“A broken blade?” Susanoo swiped his divine blade sideways. It’s edged unleashed a wave of light, slicing across the mountain, uprooting many trees. The clouds in the distance parted from the force alone. All but the mountain stayed in tact in front of a Shinrei level being’s swing.

“What?” But Ame-no-Habakiri did not cut cleanly through the Oni. That broken blade was raised, its remaining edge not touching his own sword. Instead, he saw the faint silhouette of a complete sword superimposing atop the broken one.

“Don’t ask me, its always been like this,” The Oni said fondly. “The yokai who come and ask didn’t know why. Nor did any of the Kami who came to investigate. Not those horned snakes from the endless ocean. Not even that girl with the crown on her head could tell me why.”

“But every time someone comes, it always compels me.” The Oni exerted strength, pushing Susanoo’s arm back. Then a second exertion, fully launched the god back a few metres.

Susanoo landed on his feet in shock. Sato had long since run away, his status unknown. But the two deities faced each other and felt glee.

“Very well then. Seems I was mistaken. I apologize,” Susanoo said. “Let me try again. I am Susanoo-no-Mikoto of the Amatsukami. Wielder of Ame-no-Habakiri. Son of Izanagi-no-Okami here to…well to fight you I guess.”

“Hehe, then I am…hm son of I don’t know actually. I don’t even know what this sword is called. I just appeared one day as I am.”

“A congenital being then. Not unheard of but uncommon. Just your name will do.”

“Easy enough Susanoo,” the Oni said. “I am called Shuten-Doji. Let’s see if your skills are equal to your arrogance.”