Cosmogony

Yamato’s cosmogony begins not with chaos, but with stillness—a primordial expanse of void known as Aokami-no-Sora, the Blue Sky of Nothingness. From this eternal quiet, the first sparks of existence emerged: the Kotomatsukami, the primordial gods who embodied the principles of order, chaos, creation, and transformation. These beings did not come into being through mortal prayer; they simply were, and through their essence, the threads of time, space, and life began to weave.

The first Kotomatsukami—Amenominakanushi, Takamimusubi, and Kamimusubi—formed the axis of reality, separating sky from earth, sea from land, and spirit from matter. Where they moved, life and energy gathered, shaping mountains, rivers, and celestial spheres. Their acts were not deliberate in a human sense; they were the natural unfolding of universal principle. Time itself is said to have begun when Amenominakanushi exhaled, the rhythm of their breath echoing through eternity.

Following the primordial gods, the Zōkasanshin, or “Acting Gods,” arose. These deities were tasked with giving form and motion to the world. Izanagi and Izanami descended to the void, their union shaping the first lands of Yamato. From their union sprang islands, rivers, forests, and the first kami—spirits that would dwell in mountains, rivers, and sacred trees. It was from Izanami’s passing and Izanagi’s mourning that fire, death, and the cycle of rebirth were born, establishing the principles of life and mortality.

As the world grew, mortal perception began to shape divinity itself. From the reverence of humans, the cunning of Kitsune, the discipline of Tengu, and the elemental might of Ryujin and Oni, new deities were crystallized. A mountain spirit revered for generations became a god of protection; a river that saved travelers became a deity of fortune and flow. This dual process—primordial creation and belief-formed divinity—is central to Yamato’s worldview: some powers are inherent, eternal, and unknowable, while others are born from the devotion, fear, and imagination of the living.

The first yōkai also emerged during this age, born as natural extensions of the land’s spiritual energy. Nekomata, Tanuki, and Hebi were shaped by the interaction of elemental forces and mortal imagination, forming intelligent, self-aware beings capable of influencing the world. Kami and yōkai established their domains, often overlapping, teaching mortals the delicate balance between respect and hubris. Humans, Oni, Okami, and Ryujin alike learned to read the signs of the land, interpreting omens, celestial movements, and whispered guidance from unseen presences.

Unlike some mortal traditions that cast creation as singular or linear, Yamato’s cosmogony is cyclical and layered. The cosmos is a tapestry of overlapping domains: primordial forces, divine households, ancestral spirits, and mortal belief. Events in one layer ripple across others—an act of devotion can empower a minor kami, while neglect can leave a spirit weak or restless. The fallen star, an enigmatic celestial object, exemplifies this principle: a cosmic anomaly that resonates across all layers, drawing the attention of mortals, yōkai, and gods alike.

Central to Yamato’s cosmogony is the idea of interconnectedness. Mountains are not inert; rivers are not simple channels of water. Every tree, stone, and gust of wind has life, consciousness, or a spark of divinity. Humans, Kami, and Yōkai inhabit the same energetic web, and every action—whether sowing rice, crafting a blade, or performing a ritual—shifts the balance subtly.

Cosmogony in Yamato is celebratory rather than fatalistic. Life, death, struggle, and creation are not punishments but expressions of the universe’s natural rhythm. Even calamities are interpreted as lessons or realignments in the balance, not as divine retribution. In this way, Yamato’s people navigate their lives with respect and mindfulness, aware that their world is alive with spirits, yet free to act without paralyzing fear.

The tales of creation are still taught in shrines, schools, and villages: stories of Izanagi and Izanami, of Amenominakanushi’s breath, of Ryujin’s tides shaping the seas, and of the first Oni and Tanuki emerging from mountains and forests. Each tale is both literal and allegorical, offering guidance for ethics, bravery, and harmony while reminding mortals that they live amidst forces far older and greater than themselves.