That Number Ten

Interlude 4

Alternate Universe 4: Deities

Hinata was a God. Well, God was putting it lightly. He was more of a 'forest spirit' but his domain resided over the entirety of Japan, so to her people he was a God.

He was giving, he was kind. He was the sort of God that would whisper to the trees so their leaves would drop in Autumn, the sort that would encourage the flowers to grow in Spring, the sort that helped the deer paint his spots when they started to show.

His was the breath under the wings of a bird's first flight, the guiding touch that let Winter paint the wilderness in shades of silver and white.

To the other Gods, he was nothing more than a spirit, a lesser Deity at best, no more than a blip on the radar of the Heavens.

It didn't explain why the God of the Moon and Stars was standing in front of his shrine when he had finished convincing the fox it was time to play and that yes, Mr Owl, it really is time to get up, you can't sleep the night away too!

"Tsukishima!" Hinata said, cheerful but unable to keep the suspicion from his voice. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Tsukishima let his cold eyes pass from the shrine to Hinata's face and Hinata couldn't help but be jealous of how regal he looked, a constellation of stars across his collarbone and stretching to his ribcage, fine, silvery jewellery that shimmered with every move, a robe with a beautiful trim.

"I heard the dead one was here the other day," Tsukishima said in lieu of greeting, and seemed almost derisory as his gaze swept up and down Hinata's attire.

Hinata, feeling particularly bright that day, had woven himself a robe from a thousand and one petals, each given willingly, a rainbow of colours.

"The dead one...?" Hinata asked, even as he tried his best to not cross his arms over his chest in embarrassment. "Oh! You mean Kageyama! It's not nice to call him that just because he takes care of the Underworld. It's not as if he's actually dead or anything you know?"

"So he was here." Tsukishima's gaze drifted back to the shrine and Hinata shuffled nervously, feeling inadequate. Last he'd heard, Tsukishima had recently had his fifth temple built by his worshippers.

"Did you make that yourself?" Tsukishima suddenly asked, a non-sequitur and Hinata squared his shoulders.

"No. Despite being small, I still have a following." Hinata stared at Tsukishima, daring him to be even the slightest bit demeaning to his followers. "They built it for me, many years ago."

"It's well cared for," Tsukishima said, inexplicably soft as he grazed his fingertips over a roughly carved corner.

Then he was stern and impassive again as he asked, "Why was the dead one here?"

Hinata felt a little flustered at the sudden topic changes but couldn't help the twist of his mouth.

"There was a fire, in my woods. Two men of the nearby village were caught in the blaze before I could stop it. The remaining four managed to escape. Kageyama came to escort their souls."

"Their souls would have reached him regardless of whether or not he came himself. Why was he here?"

Hinata felt his mouth pinch further and he drew himself up to his short height. A nearby tree swayed in an invisible breeze and audibly creaked loudly, the leaves rustling almost anxiously. The surrounding trees were as still as the night.

"A fire happened. In my woods, Tsukishima. Kageyama came to see if I was okay. I'm sure you have no reason to fear that man may make his way to your sky, to your moon and stars to take away a piece of you like they have done to me, even if by accident."

Tsukishima's impassive gaze brightened with understanding.

"And how do you fare?" he asked, his voice a little stiff.

Hinata let his breath out in one big whoosh, his shoulders slumping. "It will heal. As does the phoenix rise from the ashes, so will new life spring forth given time."

"I didn't ask about the forest," Tsukishima replied, voice gentle. "I'm asking about you."

"Oh," Hinata breathed, and shrugged a shoulder noncommittal. "That will fade with time too."

"May I see?" Tsukishima inquired, tight as if he were forcing himself to be polite.

Hinata bit his lip thoughtfully for a moment before shrugging off the shoulder of his robe, the petals softly whispering against one another. Stark and red against his pale skin was a burn, edges spreading out like an opening flower and no bigger than the size of Hinata's palm.

"It isn't the first time and it won't be the last," Hinata murmured, embarrassed of the blight on his body - God indeed, ha! - and as he made to cover himself back up Tsukishima stopped him with a soft touch to his wrist.

"You normally wear the spiders' silk on a day like today," Tsukishima said quietly. "Thin and wispy, like passing clouds, because on sunny days the young ones like to play and you can't help but indulge them. But because of this, you decided to hide behind a thousand colours, as if to paint over the blemish."

"So what?" Hinata asked defensively, almost snappish. "It's an embarrassment."

"You've faced a trial. What you said earlier was correct - I have no reason to fear man as he can't reach his greedy fingers into what is mine. Nor can they reach into the wind and snatch it away, or blot out the sun. Instead you alone suffer when a mistake of man is made and we are none the wiser."

Hinata bit his tongue against any other accusations or angry remarks, unsure where Tsukishima was going with this.

"It is not an embarrassment, nor should it ever be. You are a strong God, and here is the proof." Tsukishima's hand dropped from Hinata's wrist to point a finger at the mark.

"A God shouldn't have to fear harm," Hinata murmured. "For He can stand tall, and none can reach Him. I am no God, Tsukishima. Many, many can reach me."

"You are more a God than I am, when you can lower your head to talk to your people." Tsukishima suddenly stuck his hand out, bathing his skin in the moonlight that filtered between the trees and setting the decorations pressed into his skin to glitter.

But what caught Hinata's attention was the silver that began to twist and turn around Tsukishima's fingers, a small cloud free from the grip of the moon and shimmering warmly. Tsukishima brought it to his mouth to murmur to it and it twisted and turned as if molten glass and Tsukishima the artist ready to mould it.

The cloud took shape and before Hinata could even blink, Tsukishima's cold hand, moonlight and all, was pressed gently to the mark in his skin and pulled away just as quick.

"What - " Hinata began, stumbling back and staring down at the white mark that adorned his skin instead of the darkness before.

"Now you have no need to hide," Tsukishima murmured. "You shouldn't feel trapped because of deviation, because you are different and brilliant for it."

"Tsukishima," Hinata said, in a strangled voice. "Do you know what a calla lily symbolises?" his shaking fingers brushed the beautiful flower adorning his skin.

"You designed it yourself, did you not?" Tsukishima asked coyly. "I know the meaning as well as any other."

Hinata stammered briefly but, both fortunately and regrettably at the very moment he realised Tsukishima had been flirting, a loud boisterous voice shouted, "Hinata! I heard you were hurt!"

And Nishinoya physically body-slammed into Hinata's side with impressive speed and force, the God of the Wind and Breeze frantic in his search to affirm Hinata's safety despite the probability of causing more damage himself.

Hinata was sure his burning face, as Tsukishima stepped away with a sly smile, could be seen from even the Heavens.

The white calla lily symbolises magnificence and beauty, of purity and innocence combined.

Hinata never knew that Tsukishima could be so romantic.

The next day he wore his shimmering silk, danced in the sunshine of the blooming fields and couldn't help but feel every part a deity, if not the God he was meant to be.