Chapter 4 – The Goddess Who Wanted to Be Fired

My name is Amaterasu.

Yes, that Amaterasu. Goddess of light, the sun, and a whole celestial portfolio of things I could not care less about.

You know the official story. Yada, yada, yada, divine duty.

Here’s the part you don’t know.

I hate this job.

I hate it with the passion of a thousand dying suns. Which, incidentally, is also part of my job description.

All I’ve ever wanted was to travel. To see the worlds. Maybe open a little celestial coffee shop on a forgotten moon somewhere.

But no. I have to babysit mortals.

My world is a bureaucratic mess, and I am its glorified, eternally-stuck-in-the-middle manager.

What did I do to deserve this?

There is an endless line of mortals asking me for things. Favorable harvests. Winning lottery numbers. Cures for their self-inflicted stupidity.

And the worst part? The absolute worst part is that I can’t quit.

I can’t just hand in my two-millennia notice. Even when I do monumentally stupid things, I don’t get fired. There’s a divine union or something. It’s a nightmare.

Then, during a particularly mind-numbing quarterly review of souls, it came to me.

A plan. A beautiful, terrible, career-ending plan.

I was going to bring people from another world.

That’s a big taboo. A cosmic no-no of the highest order.

But just summoning them wasn’t enough. I had to summon heroes, and then sneak in one person with absolutely zero discernible talent.

A dud. A glitch. A problem.

My ticket to freedom.

So, I pulled the lever.

The summoning light faded, and four mortals stood before me in my pristine, white waiting room of a divine realm.

I did a quick appraisal.

First, the one practically glowing with Main Character syndrome. Kenji Tanaka. The Hero. All golden retriever energy and a smile so bright it was a workplace hazard. Predictable.

Next, the pretty one. Reina Inoue. The designated Love Interest. She had ‘damsel in distress’ written all over her. Boring.

Then the big one. Daisuke. He just stood there, grunting. Scenery.

And then I saw him.

My beautiful disaster. My golden ticket.

Ryuuji Sato.

My divine senses went wild. Beneath the surface, the kid was a raging inferno of latent power. A walking natural disaster. An untapped well of chaotic energy that could level a continent.

And it was all wrapped in the most pathetic, insecure, kick-me-please package I had ever seen.

He had the power of a god and the self-esteem of a wet paper bag.

It was perfect.

My plan was simple. I’d deem him worthless. I’d banish him in the most humiliating way possible. His deep-seated insecurity, mixed with that monstrous power, would fester. He’d get angry.

He would vandalize my world out of pure, righteous rage.

The other gods would have to fire me then. It was foolproof.

I began my performance.

“Welcome, people from another world.”

I put on my best ethereal, benevolent goddess voice. It’s a crowd-pleaser.

I floated toward them, feigning deep celestial wisdom.

I gave them the whole “chosen heroes” spiel.

Then I fixed my gaze on Ryuuji. Time for the final act.

He immediately slumped his shoulders and started trembling. He was even better at this than I had hoped.

“I… I don’t think I should be here.”

His voice quivered. What a performance.

This was it. The moment I would cast him aside and set my glorious, world-ending plan in motion.

I smiled. A real smile. Freedom was so close I could taste it.

I declared him incompatible. I summoned a ball of dark, scary-looking energy.

Everything was going perfectly.

“I won’t let you.”

I blinked.

The golden-retriever Hero had stepped in front of my target.

“You will not send Ryuuji anywhere.”

My dark energy fizzled out. The hero was going off-script. What was he doing?

I tried to reason with him. I told him the kid was useless, defective. I was practically begging him to let me ruin this boy’s life for my own selfish gain.

But he just kept talking. About friendship. About kindness.

Then the other two chimed in. Apparently, Ryuuji had fixed a sword and helped with homework.

I watched them, completely baffled. They were ruining everything.

Then, just when I thought it couldn’t get any weirder, Ryuuji himself spoke.

He tried to play the noble sacrifice card. It was a bold move, I’ll give him that.

But instead of letting him go, they just admired him more.

I was about to just smite them all and start over when the real insanity began.

Ryuuji started shouting.

“THIS WAS DEFINITELY A TEST!”

I had no idea what he was talking about. I just stared, dumbfounded, as he started spinning the most ridiculous story I had ever heard.

He claimed that my attempt to banish him was a secret, brilliant test of their character.

That I, Amaterasu, was a 5D chess master of benevolence.

He cut me off every time I tried to say, “No, I was actually just trying to get fired.”

And the craziest part?

They believed him.

They all bowed to me. They praised my “profound methods.”

I stood there, speechless. I looked at Ryuuji. His face was a mask of grim triumph.

And then my divine brain, in its infinite and weary wisdom, put the pieces together in the worst possible way.

He saw it.

He saw that the heroes were about to defy a goddess. A terrible sin. An act that could have damned their souls.

So to protect them, to save their naive, stupidly loyal souls from eternal damnation… he sacrificed his own banishment.

He saved them by saving me.

He gave up his one chance at a dark, edgy revenge story to protect his friends.

My mind reeled.

This kid wasn’t a pathetic, insecure mess. He wasn’t a future villain.

He was a person with a good heart. A pure person.

An angel.

A selfless, noble, infuriatingly pure-hearted angel.

My plan was in ruins. My perfect, chaotic pawn was actually a saint in a school uniform.

This changed nothing.

Damn it. I’m going to have to make this Ryuuji brat hate me no matter what.