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emilyrhymeswithfelony · 4 years

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Koi No Yokan

This is a Noragami Historical AU I adopted from @bloodredrubymoon with @watchmist1412 with Miko!Hiyori and God of Calamity!Yato based on events during the Hogen Disturbance of 1156. You can always read it on AO3 but I’m still learning to format there, and structure is rather important to my storytelling.

Rated T+ due to death and some adult situations. Historical and A/N at end of each chapter. Musical references will be noted before (if any).

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I hardly know your voice And find that I am hanging on your every word Burned inside my brain And I must stop until we meet again

My Heart Got Caught on Your Sleeve by Lucius

Hiyori had grown into a respected miko, and the beauty of the village. It never ceased to amuse her how quickly adversaries were to underestimate her as an opponent solely on her appearance. Her brother was right all those years ago; she was indeed blessed to be born a woman. For every bandit or rogue samurai that saw her as a gift on a silver platter, she would have another enemy defeated at her feet. She took full advantage of her disarming looks, and hoped she was making her brother proud.

A couple of Taira samurai had entered the village, and unfortunately began harassing the tavern maids. Hiyori had a boding premonition that morning of pain, and rushed through the town center to the scene, determined to remind these thugs that people were not meant for the taking. Accompanied by two of her sister shrine maidens, the group of rogues came into view. One had the tavern keeper pinned to the outside wall, while two others wrestled with two of the maids, speaking loudly of their disgusting wishes for them. This was not the first time they had samurai harassing their women and bullying their men. Hiyori was not about to sit around and watch the brute showboating.

“For every honorable warrior, it seems there's always three more pieces of trash claiming the name samurai,” Hiyori spat at them.

“Such ugly words to come out of such pretty lips,” laughs one of the men holding a tavern maid, his hand tucked under the folds of her yukata at her chest.

“Remove your filthy hands from that woman, and show me what it can do with a weapon instead of an unwilling partner, swine.” Hiyori was finding it hard to check her anger at their brazen behavior in public, embarrassing and disgracing the innocent women she knew so well.

“Ha! You’d be so much more attractive if you didn’t speak.” The second thug holding a woman throws his victim to the ground, his hand resting on the area between his thighs. “Come here, and I’ll show you a better use for that mouth of yours.”

The man holding the tavern owner began to cackle. “Let’s show this shrine maiden and her friends how much better we can taste than their god.”

The bystanders watched with both apprehension and eagerness from their hiding spots, ready to witness their divine protector put the men in their place.

“Ami, Yamma, let me handle this. These guys make me sick.” Hiyori grips her short sword, her bow strapped to her back.

“I understand the feeling, Hiyori, but we aren’t going to let you have all the fun. You can have a head start, but that’s it.” They both nod to the focused miko.

“You hear that guys, she wants to dance with all three of us herself. Thirsty girl.”

All three men, having thrown their victims to the side, began to saunter towards their supposed victim.

Hiyori closes her eyes, and breathes in deep. She opens her eyes, releasing her held breath, and begins forward with breakneck speed. She drops to a spin, catching the legs of the first samurai, swinging her bow down on his head with an echoing crack before spinning back on the ball of her foot to sweep the weapon forcefully up to his groin. She grins, satisfied, as he turns to vomit from the pain. Gracefully, her bow finds it way back to where it began, her short sword unsheathed. The second man was on her, swinging at Hiyori. She falls back to the ground to avoid the strike, immediately springing back as he completes his arc. Her hand brings the blade up with her momentum, slashing the tie to the thug’s clothes and leaving him exposed.“Seems only fair to me,” Hiyori bites out as she blocks a sloppy counter from the man, frantically trying to hold his clothes over his manhood. “Ami, Yamma! This one is yours!” She says with a kick to the half-naked man.

“Ew!”

“You shouldn’t have, Hiyori!” Her friends are on him in an instant, restraining and covering him.

The third man seemed to be the least skilled, waving his sword around as if twirling a baton for show. With the exception of a single wandering man, it was a miracle the rest of the town had stayed far enough away to avoid collateral damage.

A stray strike threatened to take out the man passing by, seemingly oblivious to the fray. He wore a large brim hat, but surely he could see what was going on around him, or so Hiyori thought. She threw herself into the man’s back, pushing him free of the strike, yet putting herself directly in the swing’s path. The sharp edge of the blade catches her sleeve, slicing the skin of her forearm underneath. It takes a few moments for the blood to escape the wound. Stunned by both the contact and the gesture, the man fixates on the young miko from his place on the ground, marveling that she had thought to save him. If his mind were running on all cylinders, he might’ve asked her, “Why?” or even managed a small “Thank you,” if not at least an offer to treat the wound she took for him. Unfortunately for him, the young woman had not missed a beat, and was combating the samurai with more aggression than before. She was before the assailant in a flash, driving her elbow into his abdomen before immediately colliding her fist into his face with a twist of her arm. He was thrust to the ground squarely on his beckside with a fierce kick, and the sounds of a bow being drawn could be heard before another breath could be taken.

“I think we’ve had enough fun for one day. You’re threatening bystanders now with your inept fighting. I suggest you leave before I start taking you seriously.”

Poised at each man, Hiyori had three arrows ready to finish the brawl for good.

The men began to scramble, hauling each other to their feet, and dragging themselves out of the town. Satisfied with the reactions, Hiyori turns to check on -- “Who was I looking for?” She couldn’t remember why she felt concerned, as if someone had been hurt. Wasn’t a bystander involved in the fight? Looking around, Hiyori furrows her brow in frustration, chasing her fading memory of a wide black hat and savoring the sweet smell in the air.

“Oh, Hiyori! Your Arm!” As if those words were an incantation, Hiyori finally notices the pain, as she winces and inhales sharply through her teeth. The wound was superficial, not even touching muscle, and made with a clean, sharp blade. She knew it would heal quickly, and barely leave a scar.

“It’s not really that bad, Ami, no need to worry. It just stings is all.”

“I swear, those samurai would try to recruit you if you weren’t a shrine maiden, Hiyori,” a young woman with short blonde hair chimed in.

“Her mother suffered enough letting her train, Yamma, I don’t think she could survive Hiyori riding onto a battlefield,” commented the bespeckled girl with dark hair. Turning with a laugh at her mother’s perpetual dream for her noble-woman-to-be-daughter being shattered, Hiyori couldn’t help feeling as if she was forgetting something important. The girls were fussing over her arm, and began dragging her back to the shrine.

“At least you won’t have a nasty scar for your wedding coming up this weekend!” Ami teased affectionately.

Hiyori choked on the laugh she was forcing out.

“I’ve asked you a hundred times, please stop calling it that! It’s my ascension ceremony, and as far from an actual wedding as you can get!”

Hiyori had completed her training, and that weekend they would participate in the rituals to recognize her as a priestess, a shamaness in full. Technically, there was a portion that imitated a wedding, symbolizing the connection between miko and kami, but Hiyori hardly considered this anything more than an old ritual.

“I heard in the old days, the newly ascended mikos would claim the next morning to have actually consummated their marriage to their god!”

“Yamma!” Both Ami and Hiyori were completely aghast at their friend’s comment.

“Oh, come on! The way Hiyori holds out on guys, she probably wouldn’t settle for anything less than a god, anyway!”

Ami couldn’t help but blurt out a laugh at the comment. “You know, she has a point, Hiyori. You have never shown interest in men.”

“We aren’t supposed to be interested in guys while training!” Hiyori was desperate to defend herself against this tandem attack.

“Yeah, yeah, but they never said anything about getting something lined up for after training,” Yamma was relentless.

“I mean, we are just looking out for your future, right?”

“Not you, too, Ami!”

“We are merely human, dear Hiyori. Even the gods want to be loved, right?”

Hiyori opened her mouth to refute that statement, but found she had nothing to say. Seizing her opportunity to drive the point home, Yamma threw out the clinching argument; “Besides, even the sun kami, Amiterasu, came out of hiding for a little skin dance.” She wiggled her shoulders, bumping into the other girls as she did so and eliciting giggles from one of the two mikos.

Adjusting her glasses, Ami delivers the final blow; “Our kagura is based on that story, so maybe you’ll lure a handsome kami out with yours!”

“I don’t know what to celebrate more; Hiyori’s ascension, or her finally finding a love interest!”

“I do not have to listen to this! You two are helpless!” Hiyori groans, eyes rolling as she stomps ahead of her two friends, huddled over in laughter.

“We’re sorry, Hiyori! Just promise you’ll tell us how divine the touch of a god can be!”

Hiyori lets out a sound of disgust over her friends’ now howling laughter. She storms away while they continue to choke on their own mirth. They were her best friends, but they loved to poke at Hiyori’s sensitive spots. Anytime a new scholar or samurai came across their path, the two girls would try to provoke Hiyori into confessing her interest. It’s not that she didn’t find the men attractive or charming, but she always felt like there was something missing. She was content just as she was, however, and wouldn’t feign interest for anyone who didn’t take her breath away.

Hiyori stopped under the torii at the entrance to the shrine. She could see in the distance a twin structure standing in the middle of the water, sunlight bouncing off the arch. She took a deep breath, catching soft and sweet scents in the air. The wind was picking up as the sun went down. It seemed like it might be stormy that evening. Perhaps her premonition that morning wasn’t regarding their encounter with the samurai trash.

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Hiyori was pulled from her fitful dreams by a force pushing the air out of her chest. She hastily ties back the sleeves of her robe before reaching for her weapons, and rushing outside. Something was very wrong.

She feels a heavy force push against the barriers she set up along the edge of the village. Whatever brought this pressure was not human. The air hung heavy with the metallic and salty smell of blood. Mercifully, a breeze picks up, and removes the stagnation, but brings with it something new. Almost disguised by the smell of gore, something sweet, and mildly familiar lures her. Following the smell and the source of the pressure, Hiyori runs into the lake and looks around frantically in the moonlight to find the source. Closing her eyes, she focuses on the perimeter of the town. Her barriers remained intact, yet she could not shake the feeling of the night pressing down on her. She hears nothing besides her own harried breaths, and the water lapping around her legs and robe. Warm drops hit her shoulder, staining the fabric a deep crimson. She looks up to the single torii in the water as blood drips across her cheek from the blade of a sword. Of all the monsters she has purged, and all the phantoms she has purified, nothing felt like his presence. He wore deep midnight robes with black hakama pants. A single sword gleamed in his hands, but she could see the shapes of more on his hip. The wide brim of his black hat shielded the top part of his face, but she could make out sharp features draped in curtains of black hair. Though unseen, she could feel his eyes locking her in place. She was convinced she was caught in the gaze of death himself. As if releasing a laugh, another drop falls from the blade onto her cheek, awakening her from the spell. Hiyori steadies herself against the presence above her, yet she does not raise her bow. For all she knew, she was in the presence of a god of calamity. It would be best not to tug on the tail of a sleeping dragon. She speaks, finally finding her voice.

“Do you seek protection or destruction, my lord?”

His eyes land on her forearm, exposed to wield her bow. He sees the bandage, recognizing her wound from the altercation with the samurai scum. She must be the miko who erected the purification barrier, the one who protected this village, even at the cost of her own blood. There was something unnervingly alluring about her, as if the threads of fate became taught whenever she was close. He hadn’t expected her to confront him, but he didn’t mind being caught in her gaze.

Hiiro had found him earlier that afternoon, shortly after he was knocked to the ground by the woman beneath him, claiming the father of a tavern maid wished for justice for the shame of being revealed before the whole town at the hands of Taira samurai. He didn’t resist this job, having seen the sins himself so recently. The wish for revenge thrust upon him had been fulfilled, however, and he would expend himself no further. The other fools clamoring about could kill themselves, and needed no help from him. People died, whether he interfered or not. He had only ducked beneath the barrier that evening to avoid wasting energy. He had never expected this fearless miko to peak his curiosity so much.

“I do not think you wish to fight me, yet you do not grant me an answer.”

He bites out a laugh at her polite impatience. Such fierceness for such gentle features. He tilts his head back, revealing a sly grin and his electric eyes.

“I’ve had my fill tonight. I merely wish to pass through.” Spring blossoms, he thinks. That’s what her eyes remind him of.

The intensity of the blue in his eyes freezes the air in Hiyori’s lungs. Has it been minutes or merely moments since she last took a breath? She takes a cautious step back, content to feign trust in this spirit with a destructive aura, and his promise to spare them in his few words. She watches as he tips his hat back down, concealing his face once again. Freed from his gaze, Hiyori blinks, but opens her eyes to see nothing but the moon above the arch of the torii. She lets out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding, feeling almost disappointed to not have those blue eyes on her anymore. A breeze picks up and plays with the wet ends of her robe and the soft fringes of her hair. Beneath the salty scent of blood, the wind carried the sweetest smell.

That night, sleep did not come easily. When it finally did come, the last thing Hiyori saw behind her closed eyes was a flash of blue sending her to sleep with a shiver.

#noragami #noragami fanfiction #noragami au #historical au #historical fiction #heian period #Yato #yatogami #yatori #yatori fanfiction #yato x hiyori #hiyori iki #iki hiyori #miko #god of calamity #yatori week 2020

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emilyrhymeswithfelony · 4 years

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Koi No Yokan

This is a Noragami Historical AU I adopted from @bloodredrubymoon and @watchmist1412 with Miko!Hiyori and God of Calamity!Yato based on events during the Hogen Disturbance of 1156. You can always read it on AO3 but I’m still learning to format there, and structure is rather important to my storytelling. Rated T+ due to death and some adult situations. Historical and A/N at end of each chapter. Musical references will be noted before (if any).

You were inhabited

Speaking in tongues in the night

Oh, it was anathema

Olympians by Andrew Bird

Chapter 2

They arrived on the thirteenth day of the month; the day to venerate the dragon Kami, Ryujin. Overwhelmed with gratitude, Hiyori’s parents intended to show proper thanks to the gods who protected this village from the fighting, and allowed them safe passage through the night. They enlisted themselves as healers, offering their services and knowledge in exchange for a shelter and food for their daughter. Though they seemed to be the only survivors, the villagers accepted them eagerly and with kindness.

The end of the day marked the beginning of the festival. Men marched from Lake Biwa to the prepared space to call down the spirit of the Kami. They carried above them a massive draconian serpent made of rope to represent Ryujin. Hiyori watched with wide eyes, transfixed by the dragon effigy. Her family followed the parade, and gathered on the side of the raised platform to witness the invocation of the god.

The villagers performed theatrical dances, followed by the priests performing a call to the god in their dance, their kagura. Three times, a single villager was brought to dance while priests sang and music was played, and all hoped for a moment of divine possession. It was an honor to be blessed with the presence of your kami, a sure sign that he or she liked the offerings of worship. If they were lucky, they could divine prophecies from the possessed, any good omens for their town’s wellbeing. This evening, the third kagura revealed more than just the abundance of crops. A divine possession rendered the man stiff, eyes rolling back into his head. He stood motionless for only a few moments before his trance was broken, jumping towards the crowd. Finding the springtime eyes of a small brunette girl, smoke rose from his mouth as words tumbled from his lips. Most in the crowd heard nothing akin to their own native tongue. Hiyori, however, heard every word clearly.

“Another name, but the same fates intertwined. The same face, and another chance to be more. The Far Shore calls you, child. The gods have blessed your line. Your legacy is to protect. Come, meet your fate as the bride of a god.”

The last of the smoke dissipated as the prophet collapsed on the floor. People in white robes rushed to Hiyori with demands and questions, but all she could hear were the strange words echoing in her ears, and the sounds of her mother’s sobbing. It seems payment had been asked of Hiyori’s family for their protection the previous night.

Back at her home, the priests and priestesses spoke to her parents all night, leaving Hiyori alone outside. She hoped they would call her soon, lest she become a spectator to her own fate. She could feel the eyes of the forest on her as she stared beyond the garden. Just as she began to contemplate sneaking away, the shrine entourage made their exit, leaving her for the night. Hiyori ran to her parents, hoping they hadn’t decided her future without her input.

Both her parents sat around the fire recessed in the floor. The atmosphere was tense and grim. Hiyori could barely stand the anticipation.

“What did the priests and priestesses have to say tonight?”

Her father stood and walked to the doorway, leaning his arm against the threshold. Neither of the two looked up to acknowledge the girl’s question.

“Mother. Father. Please tell me what’s going on.”

“From the moment I first held you, little bird, I knew you were incredible. It wouldn’t be a lie to say I have feared this day would come since you drew your first breath.”

Hiyori made her way to her mother’s side, leaning her head against her trembling shoulder.

“They want to take you to train with them, Hiyori. We can’t hide your gifts from the gods any longer. You’ve been called to become a priestess.” Her father had yet to face his daughter, but his voice betrayed his fear.

Hiyori knew of the priestesses, and the role they played in different towns. They had seen them traveling, traded herbs and spells with them in their previous village. Her parents would dismiss her whenever they came around, but she knew how much good they could do for people. She knew how much they could help.

“Why do they want me?”

“It’s your gift, sweet bird. Your gift to see what others cannot.”

“Maybe this is our payment for surviving that bloody night,” her father lamented.

“No, my love, don’t sp--”

“Then I’ll do it!”

Both her parents turned to her, stunned.

“You’re such a good girl, Hiyori. You don’t have to fix this,” her mother cooed.

“This is my choice. For once, please, let me choose my own path.”

Her father approached her, gently placing his hand on her shoulder.

“This is a permanent choice, Hiyori. You will live at the shrine for years, traveling and working, placing yourself in danger for others. You cannot marry until your training is completed, and even after, your first priority will always be your duty to your kami. If you understand all of this, then tell me why you want to go.”

Hiyori met her father’s eyes, and squeezed her mother’s hands.

“More than anything else, I want to help people.”

The matter was decided, and they slept, holding each other close, one last time as a family. Beginning the next morning, she would train to become a miko.

Before the morning light could dispel the gloom, Hiyori found herself beneath the arch of the torii. The sacred rope swun in the breeze, the wind pushing against her back as if to urge her towards her new home. She had years of training ahead of her before she would be a proper miko, but Hiyori didn’t mind if it meant she could protect her parents from being afraid like they were the last two nights.

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Over the next seven years, Hiyori seemed to fulfill her childhood ambitions, and learned to channel her immense spiritual energy. She would train and travel for half of each year, growing stronger as an exorcist and healer. While some clans sought to unite, others resisted harshly, causing strife and chaos. Hiyori’s services were needed constantly for purification and protection, as well as for auguries. Her skills as a healer were renowned, but nothing was as valuable as her predictions of disaster.

When staying home, Hiyori made it a point to learn from the spirits of the forest. The more focused her power became, the more guardians she would meet. They aided her in training, as well as protecting her village. Together, they erected a powerful barrier around the perimeter.

Her self defense skills grew steadily, as well, and she inherited the sacred weapons of her shrine. It was as if the power of Ryujin was embedded in the jade scales on her bow and short sword. She made a point to chase out any rogue samurai who sought to take what was not offered from her village, as well as any deviant spirit. She channeled divine protection as if manifesting the dragon Kami himself.

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A/N: Located just north of Kyoto, the old capitol, lies Lake Biwa. I will give you a few visuals here and here. And the shrine, as well.

I combined a few customs together for the very real god, Ryujin. Lake Biwa is said to be his dwelling place.

Before traveling priestesses and priests were limited in their capacities, they were considered powerful shaman and shamanesses. I’m harkening back to that.

#noragami #noragami fanfiction #noragami au #miko #Yato #yatogami #yatori #yatori fanfiction #yato x hiyori #hiyori #hiyori iki #iki hiyori #historical fiction #historical au #heian period #hogen disturbance

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emilyrhymeswithfelony · 4 years

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Koi No Yokan

Rated T+ due to death and some adult situations. Historical and A/N at end of each chapter. Musical references will be noted before (if any).

**SPOILERS FOR MANGA CH 47 ON**

The guilt of just a thought can break your heart.

My Heart Got Caught on Your Sleeve by Lucius

Chapter 3

Immortality was never so cruel as when you carried terrible regret. Memories plagued Yato’s mind as he absently ambled through the years. What a god does is always right, yet he bore the guilt of that night, regardless. He had contradicted his instincts, the same ones that told him how to name a vessel, when he revealed her true name. They had said it was going to be okay, but that was a lie. They knew. She was a lesson. He had been punished for taking a new toy, and had to break it as penance. He had only a memory of spring blossoms now, and that wasn’t enough.

He felt cherished with Sakura, and as if someone actually cared what he became. She had asked him to name her, to allow her to serve him. She guided him towards a lighter future and purpose, one not rank with the smell of blood and decaying flesh. Through her memories, he saw pain that didn’t match the glowing smile she gave him. And through revealing her true name, he saw anguish he had never understood before. Sakura taught him so many things, and Yato would never be able to thank her for them.

It had been two centuries since that incident, but the memory remained as raw as the day it was burned into his mind. She had made one final wish, and he would fulfil it. He would make sure that she saw justice, and every person after that. He refused to fulfill wishes of thoughtless bloodshed anymore, taking instead ones of vengeance. As cruel as he may be, his father taught him a few valuable lessons: the Heavens are full of fools, and gods cannot change their nature. If all he was good for was taking, then he would take the lives of everyone heaven forgot to punish.

The Old Man was manipulating him, he knew. Half the jobs he threw Yato’s way were a confusing mixture of half-truths to fit a narrative of revenge, but he couldn’t refuse. He raised a sword to Father once, and it did not end well. Yato would always be outnumbered when it came to his family. And what's more, for all the good deeds he did in between slayings, no one seemed to remember his name. Begrudgingly, he did what he was told. Yato was a god forgotten by all, and would do anything to continue to exist.

Yato kept his eyes down as he walked through the villages, aided by his wide brimmed hat. He preferred to see, rather than be seen these days. He’d learned so much over the last two centuries, and held the sins of his ignorance in the forefront of his mind. From time to time, he would find himself indulging in lunacy, dancing with people at festivals, and singing with the drunk samurai in taverns. Yato would be nothing more than a vague memory in their minds come the next morning. He learned what motivated people, and what feelings looked like when expressed. He watched lovers embrace, and friends play. He saw sisters and brothers, fathers and sons--loving families. He saw what love was, but also what it wasn’t. And so he learned that his father did not love him, and his sister would never choose him over the Old Man.

Children are so quick to find what others have that they don’t.¹

The Old Man was becoming restless again, cloistered up in a palace in the capitol. It wouldn’t be long before Yato was called back to him for more seedy work. No matter where he wandered, Father always knew where he was headed. Hiiro, his sister in name only now, would show up silently, her placid smile mocking his conflicted heart.

He would enjoy slipping past the sights of one last town before her inevitable return, and made his way into the small village just outside the capitol walls. Yato had a feeling he would be seeing her that night, and his intuitions were hardly wrong. Regardless, he would try to fulfill a few bloodless wishes while still free. His hand reached up to the brim of his hat, tugging it down, so as to not make eye contact with anyone as he passed through Ryujin’s village.

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A/N: ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST ANGST

I’m not gonna lie, I’ve already wrote through chapter 8, so I’m just posting for slow tease effect now.

#noragami #noragami fanfiction #noragami au #Yato #yatogami #yato x hiyori #yatori #yatori fanfiction #hiyori #hiyori iki #iki hiyori #miko #historical au #historical fanfiction #heian period #hogen disturbance

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