Genji noticed that, despite the awful nature of this horror, its colors matched that of the beautiful flowers and lush trees around the clearing. It made the horror seem natural, as if it belonged to the forest and the forest belonged to it. The vibrant greens, oranges, reds, purples, and cyan glowed beautifully amongst all manner of claw and jowl, stitched together in a garden of hell; an untamed, unbridled growth, left to evolve for generations.
“A thing so young and small as you cannot fathom the strength I have accumulated,” said the beast. “This forest has provided me the means to be immortal and so too shall be the songs they sing of me.” The wolf head seemed to stare directly at Genji, but its solid green eyes made it unclear if the creature could see, or if it needed to.
“You are the God Haetorigusa,” said Genji. I have heard many stories of your amazing and terrible power.”
“Of course you have,” said Haetorigusa.
“You eat the living forest, scolded Genji.”
Haetorigusa laughed again. “I do no such thing. I provide all the forest’s creatures a means to be a part of something spectacular. I could not exist without the beauty of this place, and it would be forgotten by time without my design.”
The other, more pod like heads let out a symphony of shrill screeches through bird-like beaks.
“It takes great sacrifice, but since you are a seeker, I would be willing to trust you to help me build,” Haetorigusa growled. “If you do not disappoint, I will keep you around.”
Genji pondered for a moment, feeling deep down that he could build something more beautiful and less destructive than Haetorigusa. He would need to learn the God’s process so he could develop his own. With the power of a God, Genji could make the crops grow when the fields were cracked from drought. He could fight the necessary battles and protect his community. He would be painted on great city walls so generations far from here would say, “That is Genji Gozen, the guardian and the gardener. Genji knew there had to be a way to harness this power with grace. He imagined improving the lives of all he touched.
“I am not afraid of pain. I will build with you.” Genji spoke clearly and without the hesitation of fear.”
He hoped that the old God could be trusted and that their relationship would teach him about the excellence he sought, even if it was lessons of what not to do.
“I am pleased,” Haetorigusa uttered, shaking the environment with the bass in his voice.
A long colorful vine extended from within the collage of natural madness that was Haetorigusa. It crawled up Genji’s armor, slithering between the deep engravings and stitching of his people. Genji’s fear rose with the vine, traveling from his feet to his face.
“This will not be comfortable,” said the old God.
The vine went into Genji’s mouth and down his throat. He struggled to breathe at first, gripping tight on the vine. He fought and failed to keep the invader from continuing into his body.
As Genji’s desperation increased, he was overcome with a different, but equally intense sensation: euphoria. The vine filled his veins with flowing warmth. The burst of energy he experienced made Genji feel like he could run through the forest forever without tiring. The mixture of fear and great excitement intoxicated Genji as his body transformed.
His cheeks split. Rows of sharp fangs filled his mouth. His eyes turned solid red and his skin turned to an impossibly dark shade of green. Genji’s armor joined with his new skin; a process that was excruciatingly painful. Jagged spikes grew from the once traditional Samurai battle attire and the vine constricted tightly around his neck.
Genji’s panic returned as he felt his former self slipping away, and something new building inside him. His mind was racing faster than he could cope.
“Is this dying,” Genji managed to utter despite the vine and fangs.
“This is living,” said Haetorigusa.
