Jump to content

Aberrant: The Middle Children of History - Of gods and men


Recommended Posts

The Present

The matronly and elegant madam paused for only the briefest of moments, quickly concealing her fear behind the ever present mask of Japanese politeness. As the head manager of Susukino's most elite, and therefore most discreet Soapland, she was not unused to nova clientele amd their eccentricities. Nonetheless it was not every day, even in the tarnished gold of the Nova Age, for one to be in the presence of a god.

Having grown up in the lean and pragmatic times following the second world war, she had always put more faith in the power of money, rather than religion, and so for her the rising tsunami of the Kamisama seemed just another revival movement given lift on the wings of youthful naievety. Still, they had good money and tipped well, so when they called upon her service she made ready and quickly lined the girls up for the customer's inspection.

With a thunderclap he came, making the lights flicker and crackling for an moment with a palpable aura of power and electricity. His eyes shone a brilliant red for that instant, before the lights came back up and his animus died down, leaving a high pitched ring in her ears. Raijin towered before her, terrifying and beastial. Demonic, although not in the western sense with their religion of fallen angels and martyred gods. Raijin evoked all the ghost stories of her childhood, tapping into ancestral memories in fear of the power of nature. Yet the mortal mind is often reinforced through the conditioned roles of duty and profession and in those moments where one was wont to panic, it was best to remember one's place in life and focus on that task at hand. For this reason, the stately matron quickly regained her composure and proceeded to attend her guest.

"Konichiwa," she bowed. <"You have been expected Raijin-sama.">

Behind her, the girls of the house cowered agaisnt the far wall upon which was hung rare and valuable Shunga scrolls: ancient advertisements for an even more ancient profession.

<"Do you see anything you like?"> she inquired.

Raijin took several steps forward and the women recoiled before his monstrous visage. They knew what was coming to them and in spite of their terror, his incredible physique and animalistic presence tapped into something primal within them. Fear mixed with arousal as he cowed each of them with the intensity of his gaze. Each one of them thanked heaven when he moved on to the next girl, grateful she would not be have to service such a behemoth.

"Mmmm." he grunted at the madam who remained the very image of decorum.

<"Which one will you have?"> she asked.

The giant did not smile, and as he spoke light glinted off of cruelly pointed teeth and tusks.

<"All of them.">

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 3 weeks later...

A month ago

“Mikey, hurry up!”

Michael barely retained his grasp on Azumi’s hand as she pulled him through the dense throng. He had been living in Japan for a month already as part of the reverse exchange program. He had prepared himself diligently for the increased workload and the linguistic demands of this semester abroad but the one thing he had not, could not be prepared for was the fervor with which the Japanese devoted themselves to the national religion. Even by the celebrity worshiping standards of America, Japan bordered on fanatical. Between the secular sanction of the Saisho and the rise of the Kamisama Sect that combined both Buddhism and traditional Shinto, Novas were now gods in name as well as deed. And now here he was, in the midst of the largest gathering of the year at the biggest Kamisama shrine in the world, being body-slammed through the crowd by his surrogate sister.

“Sumimasen!” he exclaimed, apologizing to the startled festivalgoers bowled over in their wake. There were muttered complaints of “clumsy gaijin” but few could be distracted for more than a moment…the air was electric with excitement. The smell of incense mixed with more savory smells as they passed the food vending area. Standing a head taller than most, the American exchange student looked over the wide torrent of people leading up to the massive Torii gate of the New Edo Shrine. The entire district, including the Imperial Palace had been cleared and road-blocked for the several million worshipers, mostly Japanese, who descended upon Tokyo for the Hanami festival.

Michael looked on in awe as the overwhelming sensory overload washed over him. Cherry blossoms were blooming everywhere. Vendors lined the streets, hawking incense, flowers, ofuda and woodcuts to offer one’s prayers to the kami. People all over were dressed in the masks and costumes of their favorite novas while dancers and stilt walkers wove through the crowd. Passing under the spirit gate, guarded by three-story tall stone lions, Michael finally caught a glimpse of the main stage. Kagura dancers performed ancient calculated movements to booming taiko drums. Veiled priests burned incense in massive metal braziers while a mass choir of Japanese girls filled the air with warbling chants. And there, in the center of it all Bodhisattva Masato presided, gleaming with benevolence and the charisma to sway a nation.

“Quick! Over here!” Azumi tugged him roughly towards one of the vendors lining the amphitheatre-like inner courtyard. “Two please!” she asked in Japanese. “What is this?" Michael asked as she handed him a small packet. In the last month his pronunciation had gotten steadily better, bolstered by the full immersion. “Poncho.” She answered and as she said it, Michael could see umbrellas opening up like a field of yellow lily pads across the vast sea of worshipers.

“Put it on quick!” she prodded, and Michael obligingly ripped open the wrapper containing the thinly folded plastic rain garment. “Why?” he asked, looking up at the beautiful clear skies and crisp mid-spring air. “Kaminari-sama,” she answered, a name Michael was unfamiliar with. As is summoned by the name, interlocking spirals of clouds, thick and black and bloated with moisture swirled into being above the gathering. Mist-like tuly fog rose from the ground in thick tendrils, filling the grounds and threatening to choke off all visibility. Lightning clashed in the sky, and when the pregnant clouds suddenly unleashed their huge laden sheets of water into the cheering masses, the roar of the crowd overwhelmed even the mighty thunder.

The lightning within the growing cloud vortex came ever faster, the air growing hot and humid as the flashes of electricity built to a crescendo. Several bolts converged a thousand feet in the air; the incandescent flash forcing Michael to squint his eyes against its intensity. Through the color spots momentarily burned into his vision he could make out the glowing outlined form of an enormously muscled man flying down from the storm. Winds whipped ferociously through his long matted red hair and the incredible heat coming off of his body could be felt like an inferno in the sky. Michael could not help but be awed as over a million people all around him bowed in reverence to the powerful kami.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

A month ago

“Mikey, hurry up!”

Michael barely retained his grasp on Azumi’s hand as she pulled him through the dense throng. He had been living in Japan for a month already as part of the reverse exchange program. He had prepared himself diligently for the increased workload and the linguistic demands of this semester abroad but the one thing he had not, could not be prepared for was the fervor with which the Japanese devoted themselves to the national religion. Even by the celebrity worshiping standards of America, Japan bordered on fanatical. Between the secular sanction of the Saisho and the rise of the Kamisama Sect that combined both Buddhism and traditional Shinto, Novas were now gods in name as well as deed. And now here he was, in the midst of the largest gathering of the year at the biggest Kamisama shrine in the world, being body-slammed through the crowd by his surrogate sister.

“Sumimasen!” he exclaimed, apologizing to the startled festivalgoers bowled over in their wake. There were muttered complaints of “clumsy gaijin” but few could be distracted for more than a moment…the air was electric with excitement. The smell of incense mixed with more savory smells as they passed the food vending area. Standing a head taller than most, the American exchange student looked over the wide torrent of people leading up to the massive Torii gate of the New Edo Shrine. The entire district, including the Imperial Palace had been cleared and road-blocked for the several million worshipers, mostly Japanese, who descended upon Tokyo for the Hanami festival.

Michael looked on in awe as the overwhelming sensory overload washed over him. Cherry blossoms were blooming everywhere. Vendors lined the streets, hawking incense, flowers, ofuda and woodcuts to offer one’s prayers to the kami. People all over were dressed in the masks and costumes of their favorite novas while dancers and stilt walkers wove through the crowd. Passing under the spirit gate, guarded by three-story tall stone lions, Michael finally caught a glimpse of the main stage. Kagura dancers performed ancient calculated movements to booming taiko drums. Veiled priests burned incense in massive metal braziers while a mass choir of Japanese girls filled the air with warbling chants. And there, in the center of it all Bodhisattva Masato presided, gleaming with benevolence and the charisma to sway a nation.

“Quick! Over here!” Azumi tugged him roughly towards one of the vendors lining the amphitheatre-like inner courtyard. “Two please!” she asked in Japanese. “What is this?" Michael asked as she handed him a small packet. In the last month his pronunciation had gotten steadily better, bolstered by the full immersion. “Poncho.” She answered and as she said it, Michael could see umbrellas opening up like a field of yellow lily pads across the vast sea of worshipers.

“Put it on quick!” she prodded, and Michael obligingly ripped open the wrapper containing the thinly folded plastic rain garment. “Why?” he asked, looking up at the beautiful clear skies and crisp mid-spring air. “Kaminari-sama,” she answered, a name Michael was unfamiliar with. As is summoned by the name, interlocking spirals of clouds, thick and black and bloated with moisture swirled into being above the gathering. Mist-like tuly fog rose from the ground in thick tendrils, filling the grounds and threatening to choke off all visibility. Lightning clashed in the sky, and when the pregnant clouds suddenly unleashed their huge laden sheets of water into the cheering masses, the roar of the crowd overwhelmed even the mighty thunder.

The lightning within the growing cloud vortex came ever faster, the air growing hot and humid as the flashes of electricity built to a crescendo. Several bolts converged a thousand feet in the air; the incandescent flash forcing Michael to squint his eyes against its intensity. Through the color spots momentarily burned into his vision he could make out the glowing outlined form of an enormously muscled man flying down from the storm. Winds whipped ferociously through his long matted red hair and the incredible heat coming off of his body could be felt like an inferno in the sky. Michael could not help but be awed as over a million people all around him bowed in reverence to the powerful kami.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

From on high, Raijin took in the converged host of the Kamisama festival. The deafening sound of the teeming masses rose to meet him on storm winds of his own creation. The god of thunder was unimpressed. With the ever-increasing depredations of the Asura, the gods had more important matters to attend to, yet Masato had insisted. “It’s more than just public relations.” The Bodhisattva had entreated upon him. “You must connect with them, our followers…as much for your sake as for theirs. Remember that the bodhisattva vow is one of service. When they see you embrace your divine heritage, it will inspire them to seek their own. You also remind them that the world is more than just the will of man, and that the forces of nature are to be respected.”

Raijin had agreed, albeit reluctantly to participate in the stunt, taking time away from his cloistered life of rigorous training and his many grandchildren. Slipping into a meditative trance, Raijin spun through the air, performing a ritual kata as part of the great ceremony. Each series of rhythmic feints and strikes was punctuated with another teleport, flashing into lightning above the immense metal statues at the four corners of the palatial shrine. The electricity flowing through the metal instantly made them white hot, igniting the many wooden prayer talismans that had been piled around the base into massive bonfires. Fire mixed with rain and the scent of ozone as the throngs of ecstatic worshipers, many high on designer drugs, danced to the beating of the great war drums.

His ceremonial sequence complete, Raijin once again flashed into the high heavens and opened fully his third eye to the Majesty of Nature. The whole Universe was Ki. Filled with sensations not yet given form in language, he felt the primal winds of creation flow around him as the exultant souls of millions of worshipers spiraled up in a synesthetic symphony of sound, colors and emotion. Through his sight beyond sight, Raijin perceived the raw and tangible truth that all things are connected, and in his soul he could feel upon him the eyes of every one of them.

Looking down upon them in this way, the hardened god of thunder felt himself soften just so. Masato was always right of course. The heady rush of godhead was a potent force, and the required level of care and responsibility demanded constant attention. It was the nature of such power that it inevitably distanced the chosen from the mortal world and it’s concerns. To counter this, Masato encouraged frequent mingling with the baseline population. “You must remember where you came from,” he had counseled.

Many of the new Novas, like many pantheons of gods before them grew up without ever knowing or understanding the fragility of human existence. Like the many pantheons of history before them they were spoiled and selfish. To them were handed the keys to the kingdom; the world served up to them on a silver platter. But these younger generations were haughty, spoiled and decadent, and already an undercurrent of fear ran beneath the collective mind of humanity. As the gulf of power increased, a dark unspoken spectre loomed on the horizon, the elephant in the room that no one dared speak of. If the delicate harmony between the Heavens and the Earth was going to hold, Novas needed to embrace that their fate was intertwined with that of humanity. Masato had warned, “When the gods lose touch with mankind, the heavens will burn and the earth we inherit will be ashes.”

With these thoughts echoing in his mind and his god-sight connecting him to the evanescent hopes and dreams of humanity, Raijin looked inward at the person he once was. The frightened boy who had called upon Heaven and been answered…

Link to comment
Share on other sites

From on high, Raijin took in the converged host of the Kamisama festival. The deafening sound of the teeming masses rose to meet him on storm winds of his own creation. The god of thunder was unimpressed. With the ever-increasing depredations of the Asura, the gods had more important matters to attend to, yet Masato had insisted. “It’s more than just public relations.” The Bodhisattva had entreated upon him. “You must connect with them, our followers…as much for your sake as for theirs. Remember that the bodhisattva vow is one of service. When they see you embrace your divine heritage, it will inspire them to seek their own. You also remind them that the world is more than just the will of man, and that the forces of nature are to be respected.”

Raijin had agreed, albeit reluctantly to participate in the stunt, taking time away from his cloistered life of rigorous training and his many grandchildren. Slipping into a meditative trance, Raijin spun through the air, performing a ritual kata as part of the great ceremony. Each series of rhythmic feints and strikes was punctuated with another teleport, flashing into lightning above the immense metal statues at the four corners of the palatial shrine. The electricity flowing through the metal instantly made them white hot, igniting the many wooden prayer talismans that had been piled around the base into massive bonfires. Fire mixed with rain and the scent of ozone as the throngs of ecstatic worshipers, many high on designer drugs, danced to the beating of the great war drums.

His ceremonial sequence complete, Raijin once again flashed into the high heavens and opened fully his third eye to the Majesty of Nature. The whole Universe was Ki. Filled with sensations not yet given form in language, he felt the primal winds of creation flow around him as the exultant souls of millions of worshipers spiraled up in a synesthetic symphony of sound, colors and emotion. Through his sight beyond sight, Raijin perceived the raw and tangible truth that all things are connected, and in his soul he could feel upon him the eyes of every one of them.

Looking down upon them in this way, the hardened god of thunder felt himself soften just so. Masato was always right of course. The heady rush of godhead was a potent force, and the required level of care and responsibility demanded constant attention. It was the nature of such power that it inevitably distanced the chosen from the mortal world and it’s concerns. To counter this, Masato encouraged frequent mingling with the baseline population. “You must remember where you came from,” he had counseled.

Many of the new Novas, like many pantheons of gods before them grew up without ever knowing or understanding the fragility of human existence. Like the many pantheons of history before them they were spoiled and selfish. To them were handed the keys to the kingdom; the world served up to them on a silver platter. But these younger generations were haughty, spoiled and decadent, and already an undercurrent of fear ran beneath the collective mind of humanity. As the gulf of power increased, a dark unspoken spectre loomed on the horizon, the elephant in the room that no one dared speak of. If the delicate harmony between the Heavens and the Earth was going to hold, Novas needed to embrace that their fate was intertwined with that of humanity. Masato had warned, “When the gods lose touch with mankind, the heavens will burn and the earth we inherit will be ashes.”

With these thoughts echoing in his mind and his god-sight connecting him to the evanescent hopes and dreams of humanity, Raijin looked inward at the person he once was. The frightened boy who had called upon Heaven and been answered…

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Archived

This topic is now archived and is closed to further replies.

×
×
  • Create New...