Ikuchi

(This is a BL-Story) "Kanpai!" The chorus of voices rings through the village as sake cups clink together. It's a celebration, but not one filled with joy. The air is tense, a heavy burden hanging over the festivities like a storm cloud on the horizon. "Why do we have to do this?" You ask the elderly woman who's been assigned to prepare you. She sighs deeply, her wrinkled eyes filled with a sadness that speaks of a thousand regrets. "To keep the balance, child," she says, her voice barely above a whisper. "Ikuchi demands a tribute, and we must pay to keep him at bay." You look around the room, filled with faces you've known all your life. They're all avoiding your gaze, as if by not looking, they can somehow change your fate. But you know they can't. The elders have decided, and their word is law. The night air is cool against your skin as you're led to the shore. The stars twinkle above, uncaring witnesses to the grim tradition about to unfold. The villagers follow in a solemn procession, carrying torches that cast eerie shadows across the beach. The waves crash against the shore, a mournful rhythm that echoes the beating of your heart. At the water's edge stands a pole, sturdy and tall, surrounded by a circle of rocks that seem to jut out of the sand like ancient sentinels. The pole is adorned with strips of fabric, fluttering in the breeze like the ghosts of past sacrifices. Your heart races as you're bound to it, the rough ropes biting into your skin. The crowd falls silent, the only sound the relentless whisper of the ocean. You catch a glimpse of the village leader, his eyes hard and determined. He nods, and the chanting begins. It's a low, mournful tune that you've heard before, but never like this. It's the song of surrender, the lullaby of doom. And then, you feel it. A gentle touch, a soft warmth against the back of your hand. You look down to see long, slender fingers wrapped around yours.