Divine Grace

00 Go On, Burn A While

Prologue.
GO ON, BURN A WHILE

✷

It starts like all things do: with Death.

The air is strange in the funeral home, a cold that burns. Yagami Ikki's body is within the crematorium, flesh and bones slowly reducing to ashes. It would take another hour before the process finishes, then it would be the kotsuage next, picking the bones from ashes. Kiyoko knows, remembers, she's been to one too many funerals for her age.

Death is something you habituate, something you get used to because there is no medication, no cure to this condition. It comes for all, no one is exempted. Kiyoko was ten when Death turned from fiction to reality—a funeral for an uncle she doesn't even know—and she will continue to dance with Death until they stake their claim on her.

There are faint whispers hanging in the air, siblings and relatives flocking like a murder of crows in their dark ensemble. The burgundy of her hair is stark against the sombre kimono she dons, bright amongst the raven-headed majority of the clan. A terrible loneliness slithers around her chest, slipping between the crevices of her heart, dripping toxin that renders her numb.

Once in a while, someone comes to talk to her. A distant family member she doesn't know (only recognises from the red shade of their eyes) or an acquaintance. In every instance, she opts for silence, giving small nods and strained smiles as a response when they start reminiscing about her brother. What they're offering is a false sense of comfort, and Kiyoko is not falling for it.

When they're not talking to her, they trade whispers around the room, hiding their flurries of mercurial words behind dark fans and long sleeves. Their conversations are not as discreet as they hoped it would be. The walls listen, and they echo it back to her, all purple venom and gasoline, feeding off her rising anger.

... what a shame that he kicked the bucket.

... wasted potential.

... inheriting the family to a girl?

Bile rises to her throat, eyes flashing red. The incessant droning in her head grows louder, buzzing in her head to the point of drowning. Anger flares, indignation rooting itself within her bones at their scornful remarks. The goddess smiles, lips dripping molten gold and crimson blood, beautiful and cruel at the same time.

... good for us that a God Eater's dead.

A pervasive whisper in her ear, a ghost of a touch around her neck.

Kiyoko scrambles off her chair, wood scraping against linoleum, abruptly breaking off the connection. The room grows silent at her display of cursed energy, eyes roving over her in fervent scrutiny. Her father's stern glare is scalding, branding guilt and shame upon her cheeks.

Muttering a low excuse, Kiyoko slips out of the stifling room, away from prying eyes and wretched mouths.

The air outside is cool, the feathery touch of spring gust refreshing. Kiyoko inhales sharply, the sudden chill slicing lungs.

Suddenly weak, Kiyoko slumps against a concrete wall, watching her hands tremble violently.

Control. Her mind chants the words to no avail. A wave of cursed energy spikes within her, flaring around her body and Kiyoko lets out a whimper, shaking as she sinks to the ground, thinking: this is it. This is where she breaks, consumed by her own grief. She waits, bides her time, but nothing comes. Not a single tear, not a single sob. Instead there is blinding anger, bitter resentment, clawing guilt and all the ugly things that come with it, a burning that eats you inside out. It's dizzying, how the world comes into stark focus. Too vibrant, too bright, the stench of Death everywhere—it's intoxicating. Her finger twitches, her gut twists. She aches to let go, to break something, anything.