Rise. Amanda Sun

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      “You’ve painted all this today?” Izanagi said, looking around. The creature in her lap lifted its head and blinked its deep black eyes at him.

      Izanami nodded. “What do you think?”

      The golden creature stretched, its fur standing on end and glistening under the dark glow of the firefly sparks. It stepped forward onto the grass, and Izanagi saw it didn’t have one tail, but nine, each bushy and glossy.

      “I call it a kitsune,” Izanami said. “He is soft and warm.”

      Izanagi bent down as the nine-tailed fox approached him. It pressed its head into his hand, its moist nose resting on the inside of the kami’s wrist. He tried to press down his feelings of jealousy. He hadn’t come up with this many new things in the past day. “It’s wonderful,” he said quietly.

      “And I have many more ideas,” said Izanami. “I want this island to grow, with other islands near it. Look.” She pointed to a sketch she’d made in a bare patch of earth. “It’s like the kitsune, but much larger. I thought perhaps it can run very fast on these legs. Of course, we’ll need to make the island bigger.”

      Izanagi stared at the drawing. “It’s big enough that we could ride on it,” he said. “How quickly I could travel to find you. If you wanted to be found.”

      Izanami smiled, smoothing out her kimono as she stood up. She did not hear his resentment, but only his loneliness. “If only there were more of us,” she said. “Ameno and Kunitoko don’t come down from the bridge anymore. When you are gone, I am lonely.”

      The sound of her voice filled Izanagi with warmth. She missed him. His heart leaped as he considered her words. It wasn’t enough for her to be surrounded by her artwork. She wanted him there, too. She wanted not to be alone. He’d been wrong to resent her. They were meant to be together, as they always had been from the beginning.

      “I will never leave again,” he said, reaching for her hands. The warmth ran through him like the golden ink, painting him with a fullness he’d never felt before. “Let’s paint together, like the first day, when we pulled the earth from the inky waters.”

      He reached his hand to the soft cheek of her face. Her color burned beneath his touch. “I will ask Kunitoko,” she said. “What we must do to be together always.”

      “We will knit ourselves to one soul,” Izanagi said. Her creativity wouldn’t outshine him anymore. They would be one, their creations known to both of them. He wouldn’t compete with her artwork, but be above it, beside her. He wanted it more than anything else.

      “Izanami,” came a voice, and Kunitoko stood at the edge of the trees. “I heard you calling.”

      “I want to be with Izanami always,” Izanagi said. “May we pledge it to you, and make a pact? Let us promise this.” She must swear, he thought. If she broke this promise, he, too, would break.

      Kunitoko nodded. “Come with me,” he said, and he led them toward the pagoda he had painted on that first day. A tall pillar stood in front of the pagoda, the top of it reaching toward the firefly stars. “Walk around this pillar,” he said. “And when you come to the other side, you will see each other differently.” He took Izanami’s hand and guided her away; she glanced back at Izanagi, her face beaming.

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