Back to the present
I stared out through the glass panels of Hinami's newly opened café.
Five months…
Five months had passed since Marianne's fall.
She hadn't been disowned.
She hadn't been cast out.
But for the time being, Mei, Hinami, and I had agreed to keep her away from the picture.
Away from the family.
Away from the company.
Away from everything that once defined her.
She was staying in one of the estates Hinami owned across Japan—
Safe.
And completely removed.
"So… that's that," Hinami cut in, leaning back in her seat.
"Gathering information on this Kyle guy while expanding our reach," she continued, lifting her cup for a delicate sip. "Two birds with one stone."
"Both works," Mei chimed in. "But how's the process of cleaning Marianne's name coming along?"
Her gaze shifted to me, expectant.
"Everything's settled," I replied. Then, after a brief pause.
"So far."
My gaze drifted outside, watching as the clouds drifted past. Unbothered, indifferent. Like how the world simply forgot about Marianne's existence after her fall.
Then again… this is better.
Marianne finally relying on someone other than herself.
At last—
I finally have her.
---
Inside Kyle and Anathasia's household
"Hey, what did I say about eating chips on the couch?" I looked down at her, looming over her smaller frame while she still had her hand inside her bag of chips.
"I do clean up after myself—"
"Sometimes, yes." I cut in, sighing.
"What happened to all that First Outer God discipline back then?"
She fell silent, then raised her finger slightly before letting it fall back on her side.
"People change," she reasoned, glancing at the crumbs of chips that fell on the couch around her. "And I'm people."
She looked back at me, nodding with that forced smile she used when she was about to lose an argument.
I opened my lips to retort, but fell silent after considering her words. My brows furrowed as I looked on the couch. The crumbs were already gone.
Relying on her powers again… this girl…
I gently shook my head.
But at the very least, she has the integrity not to use it to harm others.
"Alright, genius. You win this one," I added, before reaching out and pinching her cheek.
"Still," my free hand pointed at the dishes by the sink.
"Your turn to wash."
She flinched, looked at the stacked plates on the sink, then back at me.
"Urgh… what are you, my mom? Always reminding me of things…" she muttered, before immediately clamping her hands over her mouth as her eyes widened.
"I didn't mean—"
"Oh, so you know how to use that now?" I smiled, letting go of her cheek.
"Who taught you that?"
She paused, her eyes darting as she desperately tried avoiding my gaze. She hugged a pillow to her chest as she did.
"No one… is it bad that I'm starting to learn basic human norms?" her voice was slightly shaky, her gaze still avoiding mine.
"Besides, that was… a slip of the tongue… yeah…" her throat bobbed as she stood, setting the pillow down before brushing past me.
"T-then I'll be washing the dishes now…"
After brushing past me, her form flickered,
and in the next instant, she was already standing in front of the sink.
Watching her bend space-time had become commonplace at this point. Even for small things like chores. Still, I'd warned her not to do it outside the house.
Even if she could wipe out memories when people see her doing something impossible… yeah, that would be invasive.
I'm glad she's not like how gods are depicted in media, arrogant and all that.
I nodded, leaning against the doorframe as I watched her from behind, hands moving steadily as she washed the dishes.
White furball…
Thinking back, if anything, she was the opposite of those depictions. Calm. Sharp when she wanted to be, yes—
but also incredibly lazy, despite the fact that the other Outer Gods treated her like a god instead of one of their own.
Rania, for reference…
"Say, Anathasia," I spoke up, still leaning against the doorframe as the plates floated back into the tray, arranging themselves as if guided by an unseen hand.
She glanced back. Just enough for me to catch her expression, mildly curious.
"Since you're an Outer God… do you have followers?" I asked. "Like—an actual religion built around you?"
The plates settled neatly into place as she turned, wiping her hands on her skirt.
"A religion built around me…?" She tilted her head slightly.
"I'm not sure. I never bothered to check."
"…What."
"What?" she shot back. "Outer Gods don't need faith, okay?"
How is this supposed to be an all-powerful god that could unravel realities if she wanted to…
Her face twitched.
"Hey—just because I'm here doesn't mean I'm neglecting my responsibilities, alright?"
"And yet you don't even know whether there's a group worshipping you."
"Why would I care about that?" she scoffed.
"Well," I said, "you care enough to be here."
"That's different, okay?"
I paused, brows furrowing.
"Besides," she added quickly, "why do you care if I'm worshipped or not?"
She tilted her head.
"Don't we still have a Literature quiz next week?"
"Wait, we do?" My eyes widened fractionally.
I completely forgot.
Her expression flattened, arms crossing as she raised one eyebrow.
"Duh. Of course we do. Don't tell me you forgot?"
I fell silent.
Crap. I can't believe she's the one reminding me this time…
"I knew it," a smile tugged at her lips. "Looks like the roles are reversed now, huh? Good thing Outer Gods never forget."
She threw her head back and laughed. Loud, exaggerated, almost cartoonishly villainous.
I watched her carry on, arms crossed, waiting it out.
By the time the laughter finally died down, she was still snickering, looking at me with her usual smugness.
"…Alright, smartass. I'm still human in the end, so quit it. Okay?"
She didn't listen. But she did tone it down, taking a breath.
"Okay, okay. No more poking. What's next in our schedule today?" she asked, shifting moods faster than I could count to three as she strode over.
"Well, most of the chores are done anyway…" I paused.
"I don't know. Want to go for a quick stroll?"
I reached out and gently pinched her arm, her skin bouncing slightly.
"You're pale as a ghost."
She glanced at her arm, then at her hands.
"I didn't even stay in-doors for that long…"
Her expression shifted as she rubbed her temple with the back of her hand.
"You actually undergo changes even as an Outer God?" I muttered, resting my hand atop her head before ruffling her hair.
She frowned slightly, tapping her arm with mild impatience.
"Normally no," she said. "But maybe I adapted human physiology a bit too well…"
Her gaze drifted elsewhere as she let my hand tousle her hair.
"Either way, it's a non-issue in the end," she shrugged, brushing past me as her clothes gradually shifted into a white, flowing skirt paired with a light-blue, front-open jacket and a white shirt beneath.
"It just goes to show how much of a genius I am," she added, her tone turning smug as she swept her hair back.
She stopped by the front door, then glanced over her shoulder.
"We're going on a quick stroll, aren't we?"
I nodded, reaching for the jacket hanging by the wall.
"Right. Let's go."
—
The walk to the park was quiet.
The silence was filled with the last of the cicadas, their buzzing softened by the afternoon sun. But it wasn't unpleasant.
It was the kind of quiet that didn't suffocate.
Like a soothing balm.
A quiet reassurance that she was here.
And she was. Quite literally.
Now wearing a sunhat she'd conjured seconds after we left the house. Apparently because it was "too hot" and the sun might "burn her perfect skin."
Then, all of a sudden—
"Y'know," she said, "I actually read things other than the books and novels you bought me last year."
I raised an eyebrow. Where was she going with this?
She went quiet for a moment before continuing.
"And humans…" she trailed off, stopping in her tracks and turning to face me.
"Really are terrible creatures."
I froze.
"…eh?"