It was raining that day.
In fact, it would be more accurate to say it was raining that time. In ages where skies were never void of the flapping of leather wings or the scent of freshly-burned meath it were the beasts who wooed nature. Dragons that could raise mountains and level cities by breath alone carried such force that with each passing the world grew a bit darker, and hope less existing. Intrinsically, not all were set out on chewing off the earth piece by piece, but every dragon doing so was one more that no human hand could tear asunder.
Luckily, his hands were not even close to anything humane.
The winds cried a heart-wrenching lament, although their wisps didn't reveal who they would mourn. The clouds were gray as ash, combating and transforming into each other in a storm that had since long ago wreathed the surroundings in emptiness. The ocean below was conspiring a war against the earth, whirling and slamming into the white shores to prove their superiority. As an act of defiance, said landmass had raised a lighthouse of rock to stand eternally above the raging torrent and laugh in its face.
The brightness of the azure couldn't have stood more in contrast in the shaded landscape.
The man was unflinching, even though fire itself would have shivered under the sharp blade and the freezing cloak of the gust. Just like the cliff he was standing on, he defied the elements slamming into him, peering right into the ocean in expectation of the yet unknown. And then, out of the blue-haired man inferno erupted, azure and white as its maker, tunneling straight into the maelstrom. Thunder rumbled, lighting flashed, and a wave higher than the cliff washed over the shore, he man unmoving.
The god has awoken.
Six wings, and half as much tails appeared at the ocean surface, each of them stretching out far above the man's line of sight. The god roared, an act which scarred the earth for miles, the rocks crumbling into the sea. But there no longer was a man to fall down with them.
Kogitsune-maru flickered in the brief speck of moonlight, almost as if the blade had called upon tsukiyomi herself to aid it in battle. Tearing through scale and flesh, the beast roared a stream of water, a lake's worth and tearing through everything in its path, at it's puny opponent, although he was somewhere else. Once again the thick armor wasn't enough to quench the sword's thirst, and like insect bites the assaults continued, the assailant always being at the right place.
It was only a week later that the skies cleared.