HSS: Miyakuro: 1

HSS: Miyakuro: 1

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Commissioned by Binge Reader

Wordcount: 2027

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“From everything I’ve been told about you, I expected to tell you that you are consigned to the deepest depths of punishment.”

“Nice to meet you too, bitch. Is that how you greet everyone? You just tell them you’ve been listening to rumors about them and say they’re going to hell?”

Lorelei Altringham. What a fucking bitch. Look at her. Sitting there having fucking tea. Five gods in your head, a family with the GDP of a small country, and you sit yourself in with the Preservers and drink their fucking tea. What a terrible person. You basically had everything I wanted for my reincarnation, along with the chance to not be involved in the biggest amount of bullshit Reality’s ever seen, but here you are bitchily drinking your bitch tea, bitch.

Biiiittccchhhh.

“…You are obviously enjoying knowing that I know what you’re thinking.” You fucking know it. Suffer as I’ve suffered! You think suddenly gaining wisdom over the hearts and minds of people for a few weeks is terrible? Try getting the context too, finding out no amount of context can validate human assholery, and having to live with it for years, after ritualistic dismemberment. From what I can tell, you can start by losing two limbs and an eye first, then you can work on the rest, before you can bitch about me. “I see. Then, I apologize. I expected to speak to a human. Not a god.”

“That’s semantics. I’m Odin. I’m Miyakuro Kita. I’ve always been him and he’s always been me. That’s the way I intended it to be, because fuck getting killed for killing a baby for wanting to live after being eviscerated.” And, mind you, that’s to your average Japanese Household. Well, relatively average. High up enough to get me involved with arranged marriages and other bullshit, but that’s about it. You don’t see me flying about with libraries full of arcane knowledge, do you? I had to remake my library through threats, intimidation, and old-fashioned murder of demons, like everyone else. “Anyway, hello. I’m Miyakuro Kita. I’m the guy who deals with the shit the rest of the Preservers can’t. Sometimes I get help. I would like your help, sometimes.”

“I refuse.”

“What a fucking big surprise. You can go ahead and skip the morale lecture why. Just tell me what to keep you safe from, so you don’t die before you decide you’re wrong.” Morals. I didn’t really get them. However, they’re too much of a bother to fight against. They’re too much trouble to pick a fight with too. So, every plan has to be morally right. Why? Because, that keeps most of the world off my back. If I only kill bad people, then I’m too good person, even if I’m killing them for my own benefit. Everyone stays happy. I stay a good person. Morals. They’re that easy. “So. Lay it on me.”

“…You are a dangerous, dangerous man, Mr. Miyakuro.” Ah. Good. The Concept’s finally looking at me like an intelligent human being instead of a Pantheon who’s got too much power on their hands. Very good. I didn’t even need to pull out Gungnir. “May I assume that you are the other side of the coin for the Preservers?”

“Don’t be melodramatic. Everything I do is legal and above board. Most of the time, I’m just off in the back handling paperwork.” There’s no point in posturing. I just had to make things very clear. “That means the safety of the people in this building is my main priority. And that happens to include you.”

“Yet, I am not contributing to the cause, and have stated I have no intention to do so in the near future.” Ding. Ding. Ding. Wow. How intellectual. Very insightful. I am shaken by awe. So shaken that I have to take time to yawn. It’s just a reflex. Really. That’s all. “You also appear to be implying that you’ll protect everyone within this building against me.”

“Yeah? Sorry? Imply? No. I’m saying that I’ll impale you on Gungnir, send you flying into the earth, and give you a taste of what an event eorizon feels like, if you so much as think about doing anything to the rest of the Preservers.” I hated gods. Everything they touched turned to utter shit. I lucked out because the culture that spawned me valued old age and wisdom in their chief gods. Every other culture? It was all about unyielding dogma and the absolute power enough to scare idiots witless. “You get to live with the Preservers. Read whatever the fuck you want, study whatever you need to, and be protected by us from everything and anything that wants to use you… so, it’s only natural that I lay down the rules. You break them by manipulating anyone to do anything by using that ability of yours? You die. That’s that.”

“While you have free reign to use your eye?”

“Oh, how fucking cute. You think seeing people’s sins and virtues mean everything, little girl?” It doesn’t take long for the little girl to realize what’s slipped out of her mouth. Mortals get frustrated and annoyed when their toys are taken from them, while others get to play. But, I don’t have a toy, do I? “I have context. I can answer why every fucker fucks, who’s ever fucked, and fucks the way they fuck. Can you, little-miss-justice? Huh? Can you say that you do?”

I didn’t get an answer.

Good.

The girl had a brain.

What a miracle.

“Do what you want. Live under our protection. Grow in power.” I stood from my seat. The tea in her cup was still warm, while I hobbled upward with my cane. The posh bitch didn’t meet my gaze. Again, good. Someway and somehow, there was a heart that could still feel shame. “But, if you use any of that power against us? Well, I’ve had more gods killed than you have in your head.”

Working for just judgement and a perfect paradise, no matter how many centuries it takes?

What a fucking joke.

Dozens are dying due to the obvious [i]right now[/i].

…

“Neh, Miyakuro-kun, you look pretty angry today.” Oh, jeez. Of course. The moment I do something besides hide, she finds me. Little-Miss-Fanatic-Flames-Are-Fantastic just appears the moment I let my guard down to make a single sigh. “Well, I’m here to lend my ears to your woes! Confide everything you want with me! I’ll be sure to take all your secrets to the grave, so I swear on my Freischutz name!”

“I don’t want anything to do with you, your name, or anything else! Leave me alone, woman!” Wait. No. That last word was a mistake. Those eyes need to stop glimmering this instant. That was a slip of the tongue. I meant to say girl! Girl! Child! Leave me alone! Get away from with me with those working limbs! Get it off! Get. It. Off! “Augh! Back off!”

“I knew it! You see me as a woman! I’m so glad that you do, Miyakuro-san!” No. I see a ticket to jail. You’re walking bait. A bane upon my existence. Do you understand what that means? It’s okay for you to be the bane of existence upon other people, but the fact that you’re problematic for me is inexcusable. Please, do me a favor and stop existing! Thank you very much. “Hey, if we get married, can I learn all your techniques and magic!?”

“You just want me for my magic!” Now, I will admit. People should want me for my magic. I’m great at magic. The absolute best at magic. No one else is better at me at magic. Those gods in your head, who have been gathered because they’re good at magic, well they died. I’m here. Alive. That should tell you all you need to know about how much better I am. However, allow me to state something important: I don’t count you as people. You happen to be a living conglomeration of everyone who hates me. So, back off! “So, I’m not interested! Go to one of Hyoudou’s hobby stores and pick up some pervert there, if you want to marry for something close to love!”

“I can do that anytime I want, after you give me your magic!”

“You already have that in mind!?”

Elma clung to me like a limpet version of a nuclear mine. She was impossible to peel off, potentially destructive, and everyone was looking upon me with pity. There was no helping my current situation. She was a purple-clad, albino loli with a hat harassing a handicapped young man in a Japanese Arcology. By all means, she might as well be all-powerful. Even without her abilities as a Concept, there’s no helping the fact that everyone looking on the two of us, while I leave the Preserver building, knows better than to try and invite her wrath.

“Let’s go get something nice for dinner tonight! I want hamburgers.” I want to refuse. I really want to refuse. However, I know how this song and dance is going to go. Elma is a conniving, sly wo-girl. She’s attacked both Mayu and Angela and brought them under her control. They had similar “tastes” and “hobbies” and were now “friends.” I could believe the first two, but the last part? Bah. Women don’t make friends! They only have enemies they keep closer than the rest! The only reason they’re close to others is because those people are too dangerous to not keep an eye on all the time.

Therefore, without a doubt, I should kick Elma  out of my home for the sake of Angela and Mayu. 

“I’ll pay.”

“Okay, do you want it with rice or mashed potatoes?” What? What is that I hear? Is it whining about my lack of consistency? Well, I’d like to see their consistency when someone offers to pay for a dinner that involved hamburgers. Look me into my eye, present yourself to me completely and utterly, and say that you won’t back down from everything you value and hold dear for a free dinner that involves hamburgers. C’mon. Do it. Yeah. I thought so. “Potatoes are on sale, but rice is still cheaper.”

“I told you I’m paying! Potatoes! The way the French make it, please!” Elma, you peer into the distance with eyes filled with joy, fondness, and glee, but allow me to tell you that the French do not eat potatoes. They eat butter with potatoes. Lightly flavored by herbs, it is a dish composed of butter, that is given texture by potatoes. But, like you said, you’re paying. The one who pays gets to decide. And, well, it’s not like it’ll kill me to eat a spoonful or two of butter sometimes. One can only appreciate a balanced diet when they get their diet unbalanced. “Hooray! Finally! I’ve been wanting this meal for years! It’ll be just like our chef used to make!”

Before the chef died in a fire, along with her parents, while their whole household was put to the torch and the sword due to their research.

However, that went unsaid for Elma.

All her focus was on trying to get on my good side, to get my secrets, because the idiots inside her head told her to.

Yet, here she was, easily placated into getting a homemade meal.

Because, I can make any homemade meal she’s ever had for her to enjoy, while the idiots can’t do jack shit.

Honestly, sometimes, I wondered if Song knew just how fucking clever he is. The moment he learns a Concept is addled by her gods, he puts her in my care. My care. The care of a god who’s managed to keep secrets, swindle, and manipulate all the other gods in the world, and who survived while all the others died. Did he really just put her in my care as a joke, to put my former wife’s newest avatar under my care, or did he want me to make sure to keep her locked down and foil the idiots inside her?

Ah, who am I kidding.

He probably meant to do both.

Rat bastard.