#pernagi

“Tomo-bo, will you wear this?” Izanagi asks as he holds up a yukata; it only had one layer, but it covered everything it needed to. Tomonaga blanches, “A-apologies, Father… It’s a bit too hot out for that…” Tomonaga averts his gaze, a god of reason yet still not able to explain his true reasoning for not wearing a shirt. And with that he hurriedly flees while his father was still willing to let him escape.

Izanagi sighs as he watches Tomonaga go. That boy of his, the Greek blood in him ran too thick; he even had the same pink hair as that whippersnapper with the same domain as Ama-chan.

“Sa-chan, I-” Izanagi sighed, on one hand, he could create waterproof clothing. On the other, did it really matter when Nessa never left the ecosystem he created for her? It was the size of an ocean, with plenty of room for a growing girl, and safe too, full of prey meant for her, with predators only for enrichment. She was born a siren; she would be fine. She didn’t need clothing, since she never left the water anyways, and no one would even be able to look below her shoulders. He crouched down and patted her head. “Just make sure you keep everything below the shoulders underwater, Sa-chan.”

“Yu-kun, you…” Izanagi could’ve sworn that gods couldn’t have aneurysms, but why is it that he seems to be having one right now? “You cover your chest and even have a long sleeve on one arm. And that’s great; you definitely cover up more than your siblings and mother, but… The slits and the large holes on the sides of your waist—what could possibly make you wear that? Please cover it up.”

“Father,” Sayunari starts solemnly, their voice sounding both masculine and feminine. “Balance in all things—I must be equally exposed as I am covered.” And then they open their wings and flied as Izanagi watches helplessly. Izanagi comforts himself; at least her outfit covers her stomach. Not a lot of his children with Percilla could boast that; not even Percilla could. Damnable Greeks, corrupting his wife and children; he ought to go cause a little trouble for them later.

And now for his more troublesome children.

“Shira-chan! For goodness sake, I know you don’t go out much, and it’s good you like spending time with your brother Tsukuyomi, but put on a proper top.” Izanagi sighed. Eons of being primordial of creation, hundreds upon thousands, if not more, children, and yet the latest bunch have been so determined to have their chest out, at the very least. Previously Amaterasu was the outlier; no, she still is. His recent children are only like this because the Greek in them is a bit strong.

“But Father!” Shirahoshi whines, “I don’t wanna...!” She pouts, adorably. So reminiscent of Percilla, he could hardly resist her, but he needs to put his foot down on this. 

“No, you will cover your chest, and you will like it, young lady.” He chides, “Buuut- Nessa doesn’t have to…!” Shirahoshi would stomp her foot like a spoiled child if she had feet, as it stands, her tail just flicks in the air. Unlike Nessa, whose natural environment was under the water, Shirahoshi swam in the air, or more specifically, swam among the stars and cosmos.

“Nessa stays underwater and doesn’t leave the habitat I created for her, you on the other hand go swimming around, and you stick to Tsu-bo, so you’re constantly around other people. Shira-chan, at least you cover the center part of your chest but… That’s the only part you cover, the sides and even under…” Izanagi sighed as he pulled the haori that Shirahoshi deigned to wear onto her shoulders and pulled it together, creating a ribbon he carefully tied into a bow around her waist that held the haori together. 

“See, don’t you look so beautiful like this? Now off you go; you wanted to follow Tsu-bo around today, right?” Izanagi sighed as he watched her go off. 

“Sorry, Father… But how am I meant to seduce Tsukuyomi while wearing this?” Shrahoshi whispered quietly as she—unbeknownst to him—the moment he stopped looking untied the ribbon and slipped the haori right back off her shoulders. 

“Ya-kun, it’s great, wonderful you wear a kimono, but you forewent the upper half?” Izanagi asked, misery in his eyes. 

“Father, it got in my way and restricted movement. How am I supposed to fight with it? Someone’s going to pull the long sleeves and make me trip.” Yaruki’s lazy voice drawled, that son of his, god of endurance and fighting spirit—like his name suggests—yet so lazy outside of training and fighting. Well, at least Yaruki has a darkened chest; that pretty much counts as a shirt, right? Izanagi pats Yaruki on the head, sighing heavily. Fine, fine, the darkened chest basically counts as a shirt anyways.

And now, for his most troublesome. “Miya-chan, I won’t even make you wear a kimono or cover your stomach, I promise! Just use proper fabric to cover your privates!” He yelled as he chased Honamiya around; her mother’s human heritage flowed too thick through her, to the point she admired that Eve enough to run around wearing leaves.

“No way! These leaves are a symbol of my admiration for Mrs. Eve!” Honamiya yelled in reply, and she continued to run from her father.

“Miya-chan, look, it’s your mother’s old clothes! Isn’t this better than leaves!?” Izanagi called out, holding up a seafoam dress Percy used to wear, modified by himself to look more floral and red.

Honamiya paused, looking back, “M-mother’s old dress...!?” She asked with excitement, right in front of Izanagi in less than a millisecond.

“Ahhh! Thank you, thank you, thank you, Father! I’ll wear it every day from now on!” Honamiya squeals, holding the dress up to her body before she disappears somewhere to change. 

Izanagi sighed in relief, that was the last of his children, now he just had to wrangle his wife. “Uchu, will you wear-?” He asked, only to freeze as he takes in the sight of her in a bikini. He stumbles backwards, and flees for what very well may be his dignity.