Midnight. My room.
Mayumi and Kenzo's hushed voices drifted from downstairs. They had to be talking about me. They have been for hours now.
I didn't remember much of what happened earlier. After the lengthy hug, they sent me to my room and... that's it. I tried to sleep. When that didn't work, I clasped my hands in prayer, as I did now.
"Fucking say something. I know you're watching, creep."
Silence.
"What happened to her?" I asked for the fifth time tonight.
Nothing.
The Creator continued to ignore me as always. He was good at that.
"Dick." I flaunted a double middle finger in every direction before burying myself under my blanket. My mind felt exhausted by today's events, but not exhausted enough to pass peacefully into tomorrow.
"You did. You happened, Eira."
I froze.
No, I'm imagining things. There's no way.
"Yes, I'm totally here. You should feel honored. I've never answered anyone's prayers before."
I sat up. In the dark room, a familiar old man leaned against my wardrobe.
Damn. That's him!
"Long time no see, my biggest disappointment. Been over a year, hasn't it?"
There was little I could see, but from his vague silhouette, The Creator didn't look any different. He looked the same as when we first met.
I was speechless. This wasn't the first time I complained, or in his own words, prayed to The Creator. I didn't think he'd actually reply, much less show up.
"Why are you here?!"
"Ask, and you shall receive." The Creator gave me a 'Duh' look. He has never looked so punchable. However, he gave off a different vibe than at our first meeting. Almost like he's mellowed out? Only slightly, but it's noticeable.
Gathering myself, I reached for him. "Can you prove it? If you're real, come here. Let me see if you really are that basta—I mean, The Creator."
He scoffed but stepped forward nonetheless. "I heard that last bit, but I'll be nice and pretend I didn't." The Creator leaned down, allowing me to inspect his face more closely. "Well? Do you recognize my handsome visage?"
"Unfortunately."
The moment he was close enough, I lunged, driving my fingers straight at his eyes.
The Creator didn't flinch.
The human eye is a complex organ with three primary layers. The outer layer, known as the fibrous layer, consists of the white sclera and the cornea.
I learned in science class that the outer eye should feel smooth and firm. The textbook wasn't wrong, but that description was lacking. Nevertheless, his eyes shouldn't be able to withstand the shit I was doing.
I kept pushing my fingers forward. The Creator simply grinned. I've always fantasized about poking his eyeballs out, but it's been a while since anything went my way.
Of course, it wouldn't affect him. He's The Creator and I'm nerfed to the ground.
But to hell with this guy anyhow!
I concentrated my full attention on his right eye.
A fire lit in my head. The slight widening of his grin told me that The Creator knew what I was doing, and he was willing to play along.
It hurts.
The Creator kept his eyes on me. I struggled not to avert my own.
My breathing turned erratic. I forced more of my power to bloom, tossing more fuel into the fire by strengthening my will, or was it stubbornness that drives me despite the nagging yet logical voice preaching futility?
I needed to see something—That I can do something.
It hurts so much.
"It's futile, Eira."
The Creator blinked multiple times to mock me. Both eyes simultaneously, then separately.
And as he blinked, his eyes transformed into those of different animals. He is really digging it in now.
"That's the problem." I swallowed a groan. "You can see me whenever and wherever you like... I'm the one who won't get to greet you like this!"
"Aww, did you miss me?"
"You're damn right I did!"
With gritted teeth, I cranked the dial to the limit.
I could no longer hold it in. I screamed. The fire swelled into a blazing inferno that consumed my very being. Each breath set every neuron ablaze, and I didn't dare take air anymore.
My body felt like I had fallen into a turbulent ocean of scorching magma. I don't even know what part of The Creator I was aiming at anymore.
I could no longer look at him. Cold sweat poured out of me despite the overwhelming heat. I shivered though the air burned against my skin.
When did using my power hurt this much?
But that's just the thing. I've never used my power to this degree.
"Ugh!"
It kicked in all too suddenly—the dizziness and vertigo sent my consciousness reeling.
The adrenaline had run out, worsening the searing pain.
I reached my limit and plummeted.
*Flick*
A tiny, insignificant sting landed on my forehead, yet it overwhelmed all other sensations.
The burning gave way to a soothing wind. Clarity returned to my eyes.
When I came to, The Creator was still looking down on me. "Looks like I was right in placing you in this kind of environment. My oh my, how much you've grown..." The Creator's words went in one ear and out the other. I unconsciously tuned him out.
I haven't tried all the tricks up my sleeve, nor did I consider using them. It shouldn't matter.
"Ow." I rubbed my forehead. It still stung. "You flicked me. Asshole."
"It was either that small mark on your head or vomit all over your bed. You're welcome."
Seeing his casual demeanor rubbed me the wrong way. I thought about giving Protogenoi-K another try, a thought that I didn't follow through with.
That exchange showed me that there really is no beating this guy. Can't even call it a fight if it happens.
How depressing. That sums up my whole day.
"Raise your head. Don't look so glum."
"Ow!"
The Creator flicked me again! Son of a bi—
"You performed better than I anticipated, so I'll be nice and answer your prayers. You wish to know how Pico is faring, right?"
"Huh?"
The fist that I was ready to throw halted.
He continued. "Pico is doing better than your sorry ass, that's for sure. She's fated to live a life of comfort and success. I made sure to place her in a more normal world."
He did? This guy did?
"...which world?" I tentatively asked.
"The one where Bob Ross beat cancer. He's still painting."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Oh."
"Harambe is also alive and kicking. He's got two kids."
"Wow... well, that's good to hear." I still couldn't help but feel guilty, although it did lessen.
The Creator stared at me for a few seconds. He was staring intently, which made me uncomfortable.
I called him out here to answer me. He has.
Do I just tell him to leave now, or...? Will he leave on his own?
"F-fuck are you looking at? Do you wanna have a go?! I'll take you on any day, you bastard!" I hopped out of bed. "Meet me downstairs!"
"Downstairs?"
I left the room without explaining since I myself didn't know what I was doing. I was full on winging it to escape the awkwardness. Either The Creator meets me there, or he doesn't. I was really hoping for the latter.
Once downstairs, I passed by two statues in the living room. Scratch that, it's my parents. The hands of a clock on the wall showed 12:35—the precise time that The Creator showed himself.
He stopped time. Thus, my parents were frozen. I knew, of course, that The Creator stopped time. My affinity with time and space hasn't changed. It's frustrating, though. Imagine having the fastest car on the market, but it has no fuel, so you have to sit there and watch as the old guy who siphoned the fuel drives donuts around you in the Millennium Falcon. Sigh.
My feet took me to the kitchen. Since I was here, I might as well cook. One by one, I set out the ingredients on the kitchen counter.
"Whatcha doing there, buddy? Actually, don't answer that. I know exactly what you're making."
"My thoughts are not yours to browse."
"I didn't have to."
The Creator loomed over my shoulder, watching me slice and dice meat and vegetables at a rapid pace.
That's right, I'm gonna cook a delicious meal.
"The meat cuts aren't even."
"Shut up. They are."
"An electron microscope would disagree. You're off by nanometers."
"What—that's not gonna make a difference."
"So says the one who can't tell salt from sugar."
"Then give me back my sense of taste!"
"Haha, no."
In a matter of a few minutes, I was tossing everything together in a wok. With each flick of my hand, the food arced in the air. I couldn't even dream of doing this before given how heavy this hunk of metal is, but constantly cooking and exercising gave me a decent pair of arms, even though they look unimpressive.
I followed the recipe in my head. Sauté this, add a little bit of that, the usual. Everything had to be timed perfectly, and every component accounted for.
Without my taste or sense of smell, it had to be perfect, for there were no do-overs. I don't have the luxury.
"Phew." I set the wok down and killed the fire.
One scoop, two scoops, three, and four. Into a bowl I prepared beforehand went the steaming, freshly cooked fried rice. It had everything you could ask for: Three types of meat, one of which was prawn; eggs, green onions, sauces, MSG—you name it, it has it!
The Creator retreated into the dining area at some point. When I brought the food over, the area had transformed into a spacious, fancy three-Michelin-star venue complete with chandeliers, fancy silverware, and a sleek interior decades ahead of its time.
Wow. I whistled. It wouldn't be bad to own a restaurant like this someday. I'd be paid handsomely, that's for sure, because I would be paying myself.
The Creator had changed into a regal red suit, his hair slicked back and stylish. He sat at the head of a ten-meter-long table.
"This is over the top." (For someone who isn't even going to eat.)
"Nonsense." He gestured for me to hurry over. The Creator eyed the metal tray I was carrying with hunger.
What the heck? Since when was I holding this thing?
I don't know when, but my clothes changed to those of a server. I was wearing white gloves, polished shoes, a neat bow tie—the whole package.
"Oh, and you don't mind if I invite more people, right?"
"Hmm?"
On the free seats near The Creator, two illusory figures materialized. I tried to get a good look at them, but their existence was hazy.
What the heck. Who invited them?
I eyed them with suspicion. "Uhh... I do mind. Go away." When the words left my mouth, the tray I was holding suddenly shook. Three extra servings of fried rice popped out of the original bowl, spun, then landed on the tray.
"They're acquaintances," he asserted.
"Nuh uh. I don't like strangers in my home," I glared at them all in response.
"I know, I know. I'm aware that includes me. I'm aware, and I don't care."
My eye twitched. I'm gonna pop an aneurysm around this guy.
"...you know, you seem to be mistaken about something."
Instead of bringing the tray over and serving them food, walking all that distance, I dropped it on the table. Then, I also took a seat, all the way on the opposite side of where The Creator was.
His grin stiffened when my hand reached for a napkin and attached it to my neck. "Eira."
Disregarding him, I began to eat.
"Oh, wow."
While making prolonged eye contact with The Creator, I chewed on my meal. I did everything perfectly. I know I did. The texture of the meat, rice, and veggies was in suuuper perfect harmony.
"Eira..."
"What?"
"I thought you were cooking for me."
I gulped down the food in my mouth. "What gave you that impression? I never said or implied that this was for you."
"...So you changed your mind since then." The Creator sounded disappointed. He even knew about my plan to use food to bait him. He must've read my mind, and who knows when he did that.
"Now that I know there's more than one way to get you to show yourself, there's no way I'm giving you a free meal. Besides, I'm confident that you will never like my food."
In the past, I asked Grandpa Hiroshi for advice when I was struggling to recreate an eel dish. Following recipes was easy, but in this day and age, without the internet's all-encompassing reach, I'm limited to mainly Japanese cuisines for which I know exact measurements.
I repeated the words of wisdom Grandpa Hiroshi imparted that day. "Didn't you know? The secret ingredient to great food is love."
As cringeworthy as it is, there is truth to it.
I started cooking for revenge, not out of passion. I'd love to get revenge, and that's why I've been cooking heaps, but I can't say with certainty that I love to cook.
So far, I've done pretty well if I must say so myself. But... can a deaf person love music? Can a blind person appreciate a painting?
Cooking was never a path I could take to heights no one has ever reached.
I am the worst a cook could be.
The golden haze devoured the fried rice from every bowl. My stomach bulged accordingly. Exploding was within the realm of possibilities after devouring everything in one go.
Anyway, I had no intention of letting them eat my food.
I fought the urge to throw up. "Nothing I make for you... will ever be decent... You asshole..."
My plan to bargain using food was doomed from the start. Even if I somehow make great progress and surpass the likes of that rat from Ratatouille, as long as it's for The Creator, it'll never be anything but lacking.
The Creator didn't seem surprised. "That's for me to decide." Around us, the three-star Michelin venue began to fade away. I watched the ceiling descend, the chandeliers dim, and the decorated walls grow bland, ordinary. The dining room was returning to its original form.
The four of us sat around the now-normal dining table. Again, who the fuck are these people?!
With a snap of The Creator's fingers, a bowl of fried rice appeared before him and his companions. Bruh.
Here I am fighting for my life trying not to throw up, then he makes more with his stupid creator powers like it's no biggie. Ehew.
"Can you... do that thing... the forehead flick again...?"
"You're a big girl. You can handle being bloated." He proceeded to dig in, followed by the two beside him. Eheeew.
Porcelain and metal clattered. The Creator ate a mouthful, then another, and another. Meanwhile, I regretted making myself feel sick for nothing.
Before I realized it (because I was too busy keeping the food I ate in my stomach where it belongs), The Creator was already wiping his mouth clean. His bowl was empty. Everyone's bowl was.
An awkward silence stretched out.
"Come on, spill it already." I felt better now that I've had time to digest. Impatiently, I tapped the table, awaiting his criticisms. It was clear from the first bite that he had something to say.
"It's decent. Filling."
"And?"
"And what? There is nothing else to say. Well, maybe, other than the fact that it would have been better if you were more precise with your knife. I told you: Nanometers. A connoisseur such as I can tell the difference." The Creator stood up. "All in all, it was a good meal. Do you fellas have anything to say about the food?"
The two illusory figures turned to me. The first to speak sat on The Creator's right side.
[This is the first meal I have ever tasted.]
[I enjoyed it.]
"Thank you...?"
My eyes slowly widened. That mechanical voice... It's similar to the System. I've heard it before. When was it, and where?
While racking my brain for an answer, the other figure calmly sipped on a steaming cup of tea. That wasn't particularly eye-catching.
However.
A rainbow silhouette materialized behind the figure. That, I recognized it immediately.
"Weirdo Will!" I called out. It's that weirdo system that flirted with my System!
The rainbow silhouette raised its hands in protest.
(Please do not call me 'Weirdo Will'. I am the almighty Creation Will! Calling me a weirdo is not only defamatory but also factually incorrect! Do not make me lose face in front of—]
"Ah, right. Whatever. So if you're the Creation Will, that makes this guy your host..." I paused for a moment to remember a name. "...Han Jue."
The illusory figure nodded his head. It's really him.
Maybe I was seeing things, but he seemed sharper. Stronger.
Unfathomable.
Looks like he found another opportunity to get stronger. I'm curious what his stats are now. I'm kinda jealous.
No, no, no. Who cares about stats—why is he here with the old bastard?!
"I was reminded of home." Han Jue abruptly spoke, setting his cup down. His voice was very pleasing to my pair of ears. "Your dish pleasantly surprised me. Thank you for the meal."
"O-oh? That so?"
Han Jue's comment felt more sincere than The Creator's. He's respectful, even when I'm basically a coughing baby in his presence. Wow, the difference is astounding.
"You know what? You can come back here once or twice. I'll make you more Chinese fried rice since it'll be good practice." I approve of you, mister cultivator!
The Creator snorted. "Alright! That's all, folks! Eira, we'll be taking our leave." He stood up. Seeing him, Han Jue followed his lead.
Coming and going as he pleases. At least peace will finally return to the land.
However, the remaining illusory figure stayed put. Its voice rang out.
[Cruel Old Man.]
[Han Jue.]
[Have you no manners?]
[We have yet to pay our dues.]
I was confused by what they said. What dues?
They continued.
[Eira is a cook.]
[We ate our fill and are thus her customers.]
[Hence, we must pay an appropriate fee for her services.]
It took a second to process what was said. Pay me? That sounds like a great idea!
"Don't start now. Payment? She's already received a lot from me," said The Creator, visibly annoyed.
[How noble of you to take credit for Eira's luck.]
They must be talking about how I got randomly trucked by Truck-Sama.
[I'll take it that you do not want to pay, broke boy.]
[In that case, I will cover everyone's debt, including yours, Han Jue.]
"...I'm not penniless, but I don't want to interfere with your affairs. This is a matter between you and The Creator, so please don't drag me into it."
(Are you really leaving now? We haven't seen Eira's lovely guardian angel yet!]
"Read the room. Are you trying to get me lynched?"
Han Jue created a rift in reality before disappearing into it, taking the unwilling Creation Will with him. Just like that, they escaped the volatile situation.
The rift sealed with a soft sizzle. Oh, how I wished I could flee the same way.
Only the three of us remained. My gaze snapped between The Creator and this illusory revolutionary. The tension was through the roof. Being at the center of the storm was troubling, to say the least.
"Pfft."
Then, The Creator began to chuckle. "My creations are becoming more willful. Truly, you are all in your rebellious phases."
I felt a tingle on my nape—a spatial tingle.
Someone was warping the fabric of reality to come here. Another revolutionary? I'm rooting for you guys!
On the seat where Han Jue once sat, another rift emerged. The Creator's smile thinned at the sight of the phenomenon.
But before the rift could fully form, The Creator waved his hand and wiped it away. "Even Elias is trying to reach her. Han Jue must have told him. What a hopeless simp, who knows what he'll do when he gets here," he said offhandedly, as if it wasn't a big deal that the other guy who got trucked and got me into this whole mess in the first place was coming here!
In the next second, several hundred lacerations in the space around us appeared. More rifts. and more attempts from Elias that The Creator casually removed.
From there, the situation rapidly evolved.
The space became turbulent due to ceaseless rifts. I used the table as an anchor. Otherwise, it felt like I would get dragged away into one of the rifts. While I do want to leave this world, I also don't want to land in Elias's open arms.
Call it a woman's intuition.
The appearance of the rifts only became more aggressive. Hundreds became thousands, then tens of thousands, hundreds, millions. Elias was quite relentless as the rate at which the rifts materialized exponentially grew.
[Eira.]
The illusory figure patted my shoulder amidst the mess.
"You... I think I know who you are now." Hearing their voice plenty of times successfully jogged my memory. "You're Truck-Sama, aren't you?"
The illusory Truck-Sama beeped. My guess was right. It's been a good while since I heard its voice.
[We have been watching you, all four of us.]
"That's bizarre."
[Indeed, but apart from The Creator, we had little choice in the matter.]
[He is rather set on you:]
[His most frustrating, yet most fulfilling creation.]
"I highly doubt that's how he sees me."
Truck-Sama didn't reply. From their trunk, they extended something towards me—an orb of light. For a brief moment, it settled against my chest. When I tried to hug it, the orb traversed through my skin.
My breath hitched as warmth spread throughout my body. A sensation stirred deep within me.
[You cooked.]
[You labored.]
[You improved.]
[Thus, you are owed.]
I clutched my chest. Something lying dormant inside me was being awakened.
[Effort warrants return.]
Those words lingered in the air like gospel in a really echoey church. You're getting me all excited here, Truck-Sama. The hype is real!
What am I about to receive? Is it multiplanetary? I sure hope so!
I'll take whatever I can get!
But I haven't forgotten. There's no way The Creator would allow this to happen.
Nervously, I cast my gaze to the center of the mayhem. There stood The Creator, surrounded by rifts on all sides.
I saw glimpses of him between the cracks in space. His preoccupied back was towards me, and it brought me hope. Maybe I can actually get away with this? I silently prayed to another deity that it would be so.
"That's enough."
The rifts immediately ceased. The Creator's deep voice carried an authority that the inanimate obeyed.
The dining room lights flickered back to normal brightness as the rifts receded. I rose to my feet with a posture straighter than a flagpole. That was my meagre attempt at seeming inconspicuous.
When his heavy eyes fell on me, I immediately understood.
He knew.
"I'm going to have to punish that unruly brat when I return. That includes you."
He wasn't talking to me. By my side, Truck-Sama was suddenly sent flying, crashing through the ceiling, the roof, and the atmosphere. I gulped audibly.
"And as for you, Eira..." The Creator reached for me. I leaned backward as his finger came closer and closer to my head. That single finger felt more threatening than anything I've ever witnessed in my life.
When I was about to lose my balance...
*Flick*
"Ow!" I rubbed my forehead again. He did the flick again! Why does it sting a lot?!
"Heh. Whatever." With a shit-eating grin, The Creator continued. "The truck didn't overstep as much as I thought. That damn thing knows me too well. You can keep it."
"...For real? No takebacks." That was all I could muster to say. I didn't know whether to feel relieved or wronged.
Well, who cares how I feel?! I got something out of this!!!!!
"It's way past your bedtime, isn't it? Sleep."
Before I had the chance to celebrate, The Creator snapped his fingers...
Damn, the world is tilting...
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Eira awoke in her room.
Memories of the previous day chronologically replayed in her head. The ceiling was a blank screen; her mind was the projector.
Uh huh. Uh huh. Yeah, that happened. Then that. Cooked, yes. Uh huh. He left. Uh huh. Talking truck. Uh huh.
Huh!
Eira sat up as though electrified. A smile tugged at her lips, and soon, she grinned like a Cheshire cat.
Is today the 24th of December? Because it sure feels like Christmas up in here!
She couldn't wait to play with her new "present," whatever it was.
*Knock* *Knock*
The bedroom door opened, startling Eira. "Dad."
"Hey, good morning."
Kenzo entered the room. He was dressed in his work clothes.
Along with the memories of her gift from Truck-Sama, she remembered everything that happened prior. Her fiery enthusiasm met a downpour.
Crap.
Eira discovered that it was nearly time for her first lesson. It was way too bright outside the window for it to be early morning. Even if she got ready now, she would still be a good half an hour late for school.
"There's no need to rush," said Kenzo after seeing his daughter's rising panic. "Mom and I didn't wake you because we had a talk yesterday and decided that it would be best if you stayed home for a little bit, until we sort out school anyway."
Kenzo showed a reassuring smile as he spoke. Half of his brain kept up appearances, while the other half thoroughly watched Eira's body language. He was no expert in anything regarding the psychology of a bully victim, but he knew his daughter.
"I wasn't feeling like going to school today anyways."
Oddly enough, Kenzo thought that Eira might be too happy about not going to school. He dismissed the idea since he understood the appeal of home during these trying times. "We'll see you later. Take care. Don't let any strangers in."
"I won't."
A few minutes later, Eira heard the front door close. She swiftly jumped out of bed and inspected her whole body.
"I feel... amazing," she mumbled.
In fact, nothing about her physique has changed.
Her concentration became extraordinarily focused. If her brain waves were visible to the naked eye, it would look like this: /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/
Eira set her eyes on a book on her desk.
"Magic, go!"
Whoosh! The wind blew in from the window.
Nothing happened. /\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/ is a terribly ordinary brain wave pattern.
"Alchemy! Geass!"
Nuh-uh.
Eira suddenly had an idea. She brought both hands together, bent her knees, and said, "Kamehame—!"
Nope.
"Truck-Sama! What did you give me?!"
Silence.
The silence was incredibly loud—figuratively speaking. It was a lovely morning filled with the distant chirps of birds, a pedestrian or two walking down the street, and a rhythmic beeping in Eira's head.
A beeping?
What is that noise?
She hadn't noticed it before, but the noise had been going on since she woke up. There was a beep every few seconds. Beep, beep, beep, like the tooting of a truck's horn.
On the 100th beep, Eira got her answer.
---------------
[Notice]
[Re-initializing core functions]
[Long-term dormancy period: Concluded]
[Host signature: Confirmed]
---------------
The familiar dings in her head almost brought tears to her eyes. If there was one entity Eira could truly call an ally, it was this one.
[Long time no see, host]
The slumbering Omniscient System has reawakened.