Matsuo

"I'm a god."

The words echoed through the empty alley as though amplified by some invisible force.

Matsuo winced inwardly.

Somehow, that had sounded more impressive in his head. More powerful. More divine. Now that the words were actually hanging in the air between them, they sounded more like something completely absurd that he probably should have kept to himself.

He looked at Hiroshi again.

Matsuo still couldn't believe that, of all people, this was the human he had been assigned.

Why had the Creator Gods chosen this guy?

In all the centuries Matsuo had witnessed the Celestial Tournament, the chosen humans had always been special in one way or another. Some were exceptionally athletic or intelligent, while others possessed remarkable talents or strong spiritual abilities. And if none of those things applied, they at least had a certain kind of charisma that allowed them to effortlessly captivate humans and even gods.

But his little human?

None of that.

Hiroshi was considerably shorter than him and didn't possess a single outward feature that was particularly memorable. Not because there was anything unpleasant about his appearance. Quite the opposite. Everything about him was neat, well-groomed, and completely unremarkable.

His black hair was neither particularly short nor particularly long, cut in a way that ensured it remained more or less where it belonged even after a full day at work. A simple pair of round glasses with thin frames rested on his nose.

At around five foot ten, he was almost exactly what Matsuo imagined when he thought of an average Japanese man in his late twenties.

Even his clothes seemed determined to support that impression.

Dark slacks, a plain white shirt of which he probably owned fifteen nearly identical versions, sensible shoes, and a practical briefcase.

There was simply nothing about him that made anyone want to take a closer look.

If Hiroshi stepped onto a crowded subway in the morning, the masses probably swallowed him within seconds.

And it wasn't just his appearance that was alarmingly ordinary.

Matsuo had, after all, spent the entire day watching him.

His life ran like a well-oiled clock. He got up at the same time every morning, voluntarily went jogging, ate a balanced breakfast, went to work, sorted numbers, and spent his lunch break eating the most nutritionally sensible bento he could find.

More than once, Matsuo had needed to bite his tongue to stop himself from asking out loud whether Hiroshi might actually be some particularly sophisticated kind of robot.

Nothing he had seen today contradicted the information written on the scroll.

Hiroshi Yamada was probably one of the most ordinary humans Matsuo had encountered in his long life.

And this was the human the Creator Gods had assigned to him.

His gaze returned to Hiroshi's face.

Nothing.

No reaction.

Matsuo frowned.

Had he not heard him?

Then came what was probably the worst sound a deity could hear after revealing his true identity.

A muffled snort.

Hiroshi quickly turned his head away and pressed his lips together, clearly trying to suppress his laughter.

Matsuo's already damaged mood immediately sank even further.

"I really am," he insisted, trying to make his voice sound dignified. "I can prove it."

He fell silent.

How, exactly?

When was the last time he had needed to reveal his true identity to a human?

Quick. Think.

Something divine.

Something impressive.

Meanwhile, Hiroshi's expression softened.

"Look," he began carefully. "I don't know what's going on with you. Maybe you're going through a difficult time right now, but I really need to go. You're welcome to use your divinity on someone else."

He was already about to walk past Matsuo when he stopped. A concerned frown appeared on his face.

"Unless, of course, you're having some kind of medical emergency. In that case, I can help you get to the nearest hospital."

Matsuo stared at him.

Now Hiroshi thought he was insane too.

How had this conversation gone so completely off the rails in only a few minutes?

His plan had been simple. He would explain to Hiroshi who he was, tell him about the Celestial Tournament, and then the two of them would find a way to get out of the whole thing as quickly as possible.

Instead, his own protégé now apparently thought he was a lovesick scammer with serious mental health issues.

Hiroshi waited another moment for an answer. When none came, he started walking again.

"No, no, wait!"

Matsuo raised his hands in a placating gesture.

"I've been watching you all day to figure out how we should approach this."

Hiroshi stopped.

Matsuo felt a small sense of triumph rise within him.

Finally.

Now he was listening.

Then Hiroshi slowly turned his head.

His face had gone noticeably pale.

"You did what?"

Matsuo's triumph vanished.

"I watched you."

"All day?"

"Yes."

Hiroshi's eyes widened.

"That was you?"

"Yes," Matsuo replied, unable to keep a certain amount of pride from creeping into his voice. "It's one of our divine abilities. We can move among humans unseen and observe them."

For a brief moment, silence filled the alley. Then Hiroshi took another step back.

"You're completely insane."

Matsuo blinked.

"What?"

"What kind of stalker are you?"

"I'm not a stalker!"

"You followed me all day!"

"Observed you."

"That doesn't make it any better!"

Hiroshi tightened his grip on his shopping bag.

"And here I was thinking you were just some poor guy trying to scam me out of a few yen."

This was going in completely the wrong direction again.

Matsuo took a step toward him.

"Just let me explain first."

Hiroshi's eyes dropped to the movement, and Matsuo saw his entire body tense.

Then a sharp pain exploded through his shin.

"Ah!"

Matsuo stumbled backward and grabbed his leg.

The little asshole had actually kicked him. And with all his strength.

By the time Matsuo looked up again, Hiroshi was already sprinting down the alley.

"Damn it!"

He hadn't expected that. Nor had he expected the unassuming little guy to be able to run that fast.

That had only been a leisurely jog this morning!

Matsuo straightened with a curse, but before he could even take a single step, Hiroshi had already turned the corner at the end of the alley.

Then he was gone.

Author's Note

Well... somehow Matsuo managed to make that first impression even worse. 😭 At least we learned one thing: Hiroshi can run.

Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed the chapter, I'd really appreciate a like, comment, or subscription. See you in the next chapter!