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eternity was exhausting.

Eons stretch like midnight over a sleeping desert. Dark, long, crass. Satoru grew bored of the way human lives ended so quickly. Short, insignificant, often evil but ultimately uninteresting. Like little flies on a wall. Live, fuck, maybe create something, then die. They last about as long as popsicles under summer sun. You always know the outcome. Nothing but a messy, sticky puddle wasted in the end.

Being a god was much different than that. Something that stretched beyond time and space. Not something that could ever truly be explained, like being pulled apart and compressed all at once. Satoru had little to satiate his time, most of it spent tending to the microscopic hominids who prance around on their tiny little planet, killing and fucking and shitting. Of course he of all people had to be put in charge of such an insignificant, worthless thing.

Humans don’t know how to do much of anything. Not compared to the boundlessness of the universe. Not compared to the infinite prospects of existence. A few get lucky, a few escape. Not many though, and none interesting. They take their human selfishness and greed elsewhere or disappear altogether to go bother another god guarding another realm.

Who cares. Not his problem.

Today didn’t seem much different either. Satoru’s fingers stretched over the granite limb of an intricately carved throne, disinterest creeping through his lethargic metaphorical ribs and making home in his throat. He’d been summoned again.

‘Please, Satoru. Lord of all divine, creator of all that is natural. Please bless my family with this miracle. My father is dying, we will have nowhere to go.’ Your tunic spilled over sun-tanned shoulders, fingers interlocked to convey the holiness in which you prayed, clinging onto shreds of faith and the hope of savior, your knees raw.

When Satoru first saw this sight, more than a thousand years ago, he was enthralled by the progression of man. Before humans was nothing but humanoids, and before that nothing but colorful animals of scales and fur and feathers. From crustaceous things to fully conscious beings. His own planet of civilization. It seemed to him a miracle. As time continued though, nothing seemed to change after a while. Only the cage in which humans seemed to trap themselves in got more complex, evil got eviler, problems got bigger.

And prayers. Prayers for miracles came in abundance.

There seemed to be no hiding the magic of life. Plants bloom in the spring, life grows inside animals and is born anew every day, the sky explodes in colors when the temperature reaches just right. Humans are not fully idiotic, but they are not the tightest string to pluck. The more conscious humans grow, the more limiting they become in order to save themselves from humanity. A survival mechanism built within the very fiber of humans.

Satoru watches you whisper to him some more, unsure what he wanted to do first. Of course he could alert you of his presence. Everything would be over, maybe not painless for him, but quick. Or he could let you finish, maybe come to the realization yourself. He struggled between the two. Neither seemed very interesting to him. The one thing he doesn’t have control over is sending you back.

“..and what will I get in return?”

Quick and painful it is, then.

“E-excuse me?”

Satoru sighed, leaning his pale cheek into his soft palm. A palm that has never seen a day of work in its life, a palm that is simply the manifestation of human consciousness. His white lashes dropped over his smudged cheekbones. “I said, what about me?”

Your face implied shock, a stupefied expression carved into the tiny contours of your little human face. So tiny and genuine. He studied you, took you in, soaked you up like a leaf soaks up sun, like a root soaks up water. Not intentionally but, naturally. Curiosity. Even his heaven-sent soul couldn’t escape the tug of newness. The scant awareness of another presence within a space where companionship doesn’t thrive.

“What about..you?..” the crudeness of your question didn’t sound intentional. Rather questioning instead. Genuine.

What about me?.. he thought. What about me?..

“You humans come begging for miracles without shame. No sense of reciprocity. What if I can’t give you something if I do not get something?” Gojo didn’t often question humans like this, with their simple minds. Grilling was left to the skills of someone who must eat. Satoru did not have that trait.

“I-I guess I did not think of that…” you replied, eyes lowering, taking your lip between your teeth. The tips of your fingers twiddled together, and Satoru wondered what it was like to feel that emotion. Anxiousness. Was it as exhilarating as human poets described?

“You species often do not do so” Satoru said matter-of-factly. Like he knew it already, like he was sure of it, because he was. And he did.

“I don’t have much” you grumbled, searching inside the pockets of your tunic as if the thin fabric could carry anything worthy of a god within its 3 inch by 3 inch squares. His eyebrows ticked inwards at the unlikeness of you, a spark of intrigue within himself he forced to contain. He often got his hopes up with humans only to be disappointed. You pulled out a copper cylinder in your hands and grains of soil underneath your fingertips. A small yellow daffodil, wilted and dead laying in your palm

“I guess that is why I am here”

Satoru sighed an indignant hmpf, quietly beneath the air of his breath. A breath created by human consciousness.

“Guess so.” He replied. You seemed to understand that these items did not impress him, and your little human fists clenched around them, lowering.

“My father—”

“Is dying, yes” he said. “Many people’s fathers are dying”

“We’re poor, my family and—”

“Many people are poor.”

Your features crack in hurt. Satoru grows bored once again.

“And why do you let that happen?” You inquire, shoulders pushing back, chest sitting up taller towards him.

“You think highly of me” he replied. “My existence is as fruitless as yours. I am only a god, not the universe” Satoru’s cerulean eyes glided away from you, unentertained by the empty space that stretched beyond your shared altercation. The cold, lonely endlessness of nothing.

“I just need my family to be safe. This one thing.” You pleaded.

“Hm.” He fell further into his palm, disappointed, like a foot sinking into a mossy wasteland.

Your gaze hardened. Challenged. Satoru could give you what you were asking for, it appeared. For a price.

“I can give you myself.” You stepped backwards once, juxtaposing your own words. Satoru’s eyes flickered back at your quivering form like a flame.

“And what benefit do you have to me?” Satoru said.

The idea of his own human intrigued him. Lit a curiosity in his belly that burned lightening hot. Satoru’s skin, a manifestation of human consciousness, teemed with something buzzing. Something exhilarating. This was newness. This was less human.

Your determined hands tightened even more. “Why don’t we find out together?” You offered, timbre cracking with maybe fear. Maybe relief. Satoru didn’t know god’s could feel such emotions as he did now.

Together. His own little human.

“Discover..” Satoru murmured to himself. “Together…enticing..” two thick nails rested against his glossy lips as he thought.

His own little human…

Ancient, lonely, exhausted god Gojo x little human praying for a miracle