It's over! Considering how few words this story was, I can't believe how long it's taken me to finish it. Amaterasu's chapter has been planned for some time, but it took me a while to figure out how to write it.

Disclaimer: I don't own Ōkami or these tarot quotes.

The Sun:

"The Sun is inevitable. We can always count on it to rise each morning. Even if we've had the most dark and despairing night we are able to derive confidence that this too shall pass when we see the sun rising over the horizon."

A shrine watched over by a tiny sapling sprite. Chiseled stone where had once been flesh and muscle and white fur. A village nearly torn apart from fear, now gathered around the statue under which the Sun Goddess is buried. Nagi speaks a few gruff words of thanks. The elders give their blessing.

In the distance, illuminated by the pale glow of the moon, a golden-haired prophet plays a soft lullaby. Ink splashes onto parchment as an inch-tall poncle engraves the last memory of the celestial wolf into his mind. The infant wood sprite peers up at the carved stone with curious, innocent eyes.

Sleep.

Slowly, quietly, the lullaby continues, and Amaterasu sleeps. The villagers return to their homes. A final flourish of ink completes the painting, at which Ishaku stares with a wistful sigh. Waka turns a sorrowful gaze at the moon. Sakuya reaches a tiny hand up to touch the statue's snout.

The sapling will spread its branches towards the heavens. The inch-tall artist will grow old, and the prophet with golden hair will look to the future. Amaterasu slumbers in a carved shell of stone. Blissfully, unknowingly. A well-deserved rest.

A long century will pass before the statue stirs with life and the great white wolf opens her eyes.

But it does not matter.

The sun will rise again.