Aiko sat in the mud, soaked robes clutched to her chest.
Raindrops slid down her face, mixing with tears she didn't remember shedding. Her fingers trembled as she retied her obi, the sodden fabric resisting her numb attempts.
He doesn't want me. Not like they did.
The realization hit like a punch. All her life since being betrayed by her sister Himari, men had demanded her body, her silence, her pain. Even the gods she'd prayed to had been silent. Yet Kami-sama—a voice that commanded earthquakes and monsters—had refused her.
Why?
A cold wind cut through her wet clothes.
She needed shelter, warmth, anything to stop the shivering. But the forest around her was a graveyard of shattered trees and blood-stained earth. No village would take her in. No clan would claim her. She was nothing.
Michael stared at his phone. Aiko's avatar knelt in the mud, her bond meter flickering at 85%. Her health bar was still deep red.
She thinks I'm some creep god demanding payment. Gotta shut that down.
He remembered those after-school TV dramas Katie binge-watched—strong men saving damsels with cold words and secret kindness. Time to channel that energy.
Opening the message function, he typed:
...
["Stand."]
The command crackled with impatience.
"What?"
Did… Kami-sama want me to stand up?
She flinched but obeyed, legs wobbling.
["Your life is mine. I decide its worth. Not you."]
Aiko's fingers tightened around the sodden fabric of her robe.
Something, so soft and warm, had bursted in her chest.
The rain had softened to a drizzle, but the cold still gnawed at her bones.She shivered, but not from the chill.
For the first time in years, someone—something—had seen her as more than flesh to barter. Her cheeks burned with shame at what she'd almost done, but beneath that, a fragile warmth bloomed. He refused me. He wants me alive.
Her legs trembled as she forced herself to stand.
The forest around her was a graveyard of splintered trees and cratered earth, the air thick with the stench of rot and blood. But somewhere in the wreckage, a spark of stubbornness flickered.
If Kami-sama believes I'm worth protecting… maybe I can too.
["Check the oak stump."]
Aiko stumbled toward the shattered oak Tatsuya had crashed into earlier. Beneath its splintered roots lay a small wooden crate that hadn't been there before. She pried it open with numb fingers. Inside were vials of glowing blue liquid, a thick wool cloak, and a pouch of dried meat.
Tears blurred her vision. He's still watching. Still providing. She clutched the cloak to her chest, its warmth seeping into her skin. The first sip of the potion sent heat spiraling through her veins, knitting her cuts and easing the ache in her ribs.
Why?
The question haunted her.
"But… what are you?" Her voice trembled. "A spirit? A forgotten god? By what shrine should I worship you by?"
Michael grimaced at his phone screen.
Aiko's bond meter had stalled at 85%. She's now dying to know his real identity, and a blind person could see that she's determined to worship him as a god. But this is not what he'd wanted.
Sure, he has god-like powers to her, but he does not like being put on a pedestal.
["I'm human."]
Way to drop a bomb on her, he thought. But lies would've backfired eventually. Better she knew now.
He typed quickly, ignoring the countdown timer blinking in the corner of the game interface—00:29 until the messaging feature locked again.
A human?
The words echoed in her skull, clashing with everything she'd seen—earthquakes summoned, monsters birthed, assassins reduced to pulp. Yet Kami-sama's voice held no grandeur, no echo of divinity.
Just blunt irritation, like a farmer scolding a stubborn mule.
"A human… can't be," she whispered. Her breath fogged in the chill. "No mortal commands divine rot. No mortal destroys the most famous Kagekiri in the realm." She glanced at Tatsuya's remains—a headless torso half-sunk in mud. The man who'd slaughtered villages, who'd torn through her divine guardian like paper… obliterated by a human's will.
The crate at her feet held more of Kami-sama's gifts: healing potions, a cloak thick enough to smother winter's bite, and jerky that smelled faintly of sage.
Was it all a trick? Her nails bit into her palms. A test of faith?
She gripped a vial of cerulean liquid, its glow painting her scarred knuckles blue.
"If you're human," she said, voice steadier now, "then tell me your name?."
Michael's prosthetic arm itched.
Name? Letting her know he was just some broke college kid in another dimension wasn't exactly "godlike mystique." But the raw plea in her voice gnawed at him. She'd been ready to strip herself bare for a debt she didn't owe. The least he could do was toss her a crumb of truth.
He typed slowly, the phone's glow reflecting in his tired eyes.
["Call me Michael."]
A pause. Then:
"Maikeru…?" Aiko wondered out loud.
He snorted. Of course she'd Japanese-ify it. Now stop standing in the rain. Put the damn cloak on.
"Maikeru…sama," Aiko tested the name, the foreign syllables awkward on her tongue. It held no weight—no divine resonance like "Amaterasu" or "Susanoo." Just… a name. A mortal's name.
She clutched the wool cloak around her shoulders, its warmth a steady anchor. Her mind raced. A human with the power to bend reality. To revive the dead. To… Her gaze drifted to the sludge where the Scarlet Sovereign had risen. To wear rot like armor.
"Would you show your face to me?" she muttered, knuckles whitening around the empty potion vial.
The forest answered with silence. "Or prove it to me in some other ways."
Michael's thumb hovered over the cracked phone screen.
The emergency message timer blinked: 00:03. 00:02. 00:01, then expired.
The Bond meter deadlocks at 93%.
Michael sighed, and went to the in-game store. Even though he'd exceed his own expectations by talking to Aiko like that, he still missed the 100% mark.
Prioritize.
He swiped to the in-game store. Survival first. Warmth. Shelter. If bonding points required grand gestures, he'd turn her campsite into a five-star resort.
The drizzle had stopped in Aiko's world, but the cold lingered. Aiko huddled under the oak's splintered roots, clutching her new cloak. Maikeru-sama. A human.
A crackle split the air.
Aiko jerked upright as a thing materialized beside her—a domed structure of strange fabric, glowing faintly blue. She scrambled back, dagger drawn.
Twang.
Michael's phone screen flickered.
[ITEM PURCHASED: NIGHTSHADE TENT (S-TIER WEATHERPROOF)]
COST: $800
asic shelter—check. Now clothes. Aiko's robes were tattered rags. He scrolled the apparel section. No fancy kimonos. Practical. Warm.
[ITEM SELECTED: PHOENIX-FEATHER CLOAK (HEAT REGULATING, SELF-REPAIRING)]
COST: $1,200
CONFIRM?
[Y/N]
He winced. Half the price of his mom's car. Whatever. [Y].
The cloak fell from the sky like a leaf. Aiko caught it—crimson fabric threaded with gold, impossibly light. Aiko's pressed it to her cheek. Warm. Not magic. Maikeru-sama's magic.
She stared at the tent. "You… want me to rest?"
No answer.
Michael's Screen
[BOND LEVEL: 93% ➔ 93%]
"Why wasn't it moving!" Michael protested.
Surely, it was because he did not spend enough!
Next: fire.
The forest was damp.
He bought a flameless firestarter—$300. Aiko's camp blazed to life with spectral flames.
Then food—pre-cooked meals materialized on a silver platter.
Aiko's sprite stared at the feast, clutching her new cloak.
"Just eat it," Michael urged while pulling his hair, thumb hovering over the next purchase.
Bond: 93%.
Aiko nibbled roasted meat that tasted like heaven. Warmth seeped into her bones. Why? Each gift proved his care, yet she'd offered nothing. Guilt gnawed. "Maikeru-sama! I—I can gather herbs! Or hunt! Let me repay—"
A chime.
Michael was getting crazy.
He'd already bought so much for her. Why hasn't the bond moved?!
Was it because she's already used to his kindness, taking it for granted? Was it because she was trained as a samurai and thus craves weapons over supplies?
Suffice to say, the only way out was to spend more money, and much more money than Michael expected.
Michael took a deep sign, frustrating scrolling through the store's offer.
His finger accidentally tapped the [WILDFLOWER BUNDLE - $50], finger slipping on the cracked screen.
[ITEM ACCIDENTALLY PURCHASED: WILDFLOWER BOUQUET ( FRESH!)]
COST: $50
"Sh*t!" Michael lunged to cancel—too late.
$50 wouldn't make any difference, he's sure of it. This money is as good as wasted.
…
Petals rained down in Aiko's World.
Aiko froze, a crimson tulip caught in her hair. Dozens more bloomed at her feet—roses, lilies, flowers she'd never seen, vibrant and impossibly fragrant.
Her face burned.
In her world, flowers were fleeting, costly. Given only during ceremonies… or courting.
She lifted a rose, thorns magically dulled. "You… give me these?"
She had wanted Kami-sama, no… Mikairu-sama, to prove to her that he's a human…
And flowers… flowers that were used for loved ones… was his way to prove it?
Because a god cannot love a human being the way another human can?
Love.
The word seared her.
She touched the flowers, then the tent, the cloak.
Human.
But not just any human.
"Maikeru-sama… you see me as…"
Her voice broke. Not a inferior subject. Not a damsel in distress.
An equal.
…
"Abort! ABORT!" Miachael mashed the refund button.
[ERROR: ITEMS CANNOT BE RETURNED.]
"Dammit!" He groaned, and froze at Aiko's bond meter—
93%...95%...97%...
Her sprite stood motionless, cheeks pink.
Then:
[BOND LEVEL: 100%]
[CONGRATULATIONS! SPECIAL REWARD UNLOCKED!]
Michael slumped. "So this worked?"