Falling through into the depths of the Hell, He flew through smoke that wasn't quite smoke, it had weight, it was heavy, it pressed against his wings like hands, and somewhere in it, voices, Laughing, laughing in ways that where too wrong, there where the forgotten souls of Hell.
The cold he'd felt at the crater deepened with every wingbeat down. Not a temperature, but like a direction, Like falling wasn't motion anymore, it was just a term or something it seemed to be the innate rules of Hell.
And then the smoke broke,
And Nanashi stopped,
Below him, the world was on fire, not burning, was fire, an ocean of magma stretching past any horizon he could measure, slow waves of molten rock rolling against black cliffs the size of mountains. And rising from that ocean, impossibly, were islands , volcanic spires carved into shapes that mortal hands could never have made, archways of obsidian a kilometer tall, staircases spiraling up into clouds of ash that glowed faint red from within.
Ships sailed the magma sea.
Not ships of wood, Ships built from bones lashed together with chains, sails made of something that might once have been skin, stretched taut and screaming faintly in the superheated wind. Hundreds of them. Thousands. A fleet that stretched to every horizon, flying flags that seemed from distant times, crewed by things that moved like sailors but had too many joints in their arms.
It was beautiful, oh so beautiful it was, in twisted ways not suitable for mortal minds
"Well, well, well."
The voice came from everywhere and nowhere, and then, suddenly, from directly in front of him, close enough to touch.
A figure lounged in midair like it was a hammock, one leg crossed over the other, a wide-brimmed hat tilted low over a face that was mostly grin. Gold teeth. Gold rings on every finger, and there were a lot of fingers. His coat was stitched from what looked like sailcloth and old battle banners, fluttering even though there was no wind up here.
"A feathered pigeon," the figure said, tasting the words like he'd been waiting his whole life to use them, "fell into my sky."
Nanashi's eyes narrowed. "I'm looking for someone."
"Aren't we all, pidgey."
The figure, Nanashi already knew, somehow, exactly who this was, the way you know a fruit after tasting it without opening your eyes, as the figure grinned wider.
"Name's
Golden D Trash.
The Raccon Guy.
Duke of the Burning Coast,
Captain of the Endless Armada,
terror of every soul dumb enough to drown in my sea."
He gestured grandly at the magma ocean below, the soul-ships, the volcanic spires.
"Welcome to the nicest real estate in the Pits. You're trespassing, by the way."
Nanashi redash white eyes flickered briefly blending with the enviroment before saying in a deep voice'
"I'm not here for you."
"Everyone says that."
Golden D Trash's grin didn't move, but something behind his eyes did, gold irises flickering like coins dropped into deep water.
"But you came down my hole, into my sea, glowing like a search light in a place that hasn't seen real light in ten thousand years. Every Duke from here to the Cinder Throne is gonna feel that. You think Mandatory Spirit's the only one who heard you scream his name?"
Nanashi's wings flared slowly opening, like a phoenix he seemed like he belonged in Hell, then he said again this time his voice deeper one word!
"Move"
"Make me, pidgey"
The fight didn't start. It simply was, the way Mandatory Spirit's first blow had been, Golden D Trash's hat-brim dipped, and the magma sea erupted upward in a wall a hundred meters tall, soul-ships and all, hurled at Nanashi like a single fist filled with hunger, terror and screams of thousands of prisoned wraiths
Nanashi's bow met it.
The collision did not in anyway sound like sound, It sounded like the sea screaming, actual molten rock flash freezing into black glass on contact with whatever Nanashi's light was made of, shards raining down onto the soul-fleet below, ships splintering, bone-crews scattering into the ash-clouds shrieking in that same wrong laughter.
"Ohhh, there it is." Golden D Trash had a sword now, wherever it came from, Nanashi didn't see, just gold metal that seemed to drink the light around it rather than reflect it.
"The Promise to Mankind, right? Heard the stories. Didn't believe 'em."
He licked his lips, his the gold in his eyes flickering'
"Wanna know a secret, pidgey? Nobody down here's scared of the Aeon anymore nor where they before. You sealed yourselves up there so long, you forgot, we've been getting stronger."
He moved.
Nanashi met him halfway, bow becoming blade becoming something neither, and the two of them tore through the ash-sky in a blur of gold and white red, every clash sending shockwaves that capsized entire ships below, that cracked the volcanic spires, that, somewhere, far below, in the deepest dark made someone or something open its eyes.
It went on, and on, neither giving ground, until'
Both of them stopped. At the exact same moment. Midstrike, weapons locked, eyes redashish white and gold locked on each other!
Golden D Trash' started laughing real laughing this time, delighted, almost boyish.
"A draw?! With a feathered pigeon?! Oh, this is the best day I've had in centuries"
Nanashi pulled back first, wings beating once to put distance between them, eyes still cold, still searching past the Duke toward the depths beyond, toward wherever Mandatory Spirit had run to lick his wounds.
"This isn't over," Nanashi said quietly
"Course it ain't."
Golden D Trash sheathed his sword, tipped his hat with one too many fingered hand, grin sharp as ever
"You just knocked on Hell's front door, pidgey,"
His voice deeper this time grin removed from his mouth, the brim of the hat covering one eye the other eye flickered in intensity locking on to Nanashi'
"And theres gonna be HELL to Pay"
He started sinking back down toward his fleet, toward the magma sea, toward the soul-ships already regrouping into formation below.
"Tell your Court the Pits still live in the past, the war never ended, and it is coming"
the space around Nanashi flickered, his aura expanding as the "fire" around them seemed to be being burnt by his aura, he leaned backwards, his bow in his hands blazing in intensity and then said
"LET THEM COME"
An Upfarious Laughter left the mouth of Golden D. Trash' as he slowly submerged into the blazing Magma, swallowed back into the ash and the laughter and the endless burning sea
Above, far above, past the smoke, past the cracks in the world a figure with white hair walking beside a young man in blue Daoist robe, stopped for a moment a smile gracing his face in amusement as he continued on walking forward