I'm God and I can't tell a story right.

I hadn't started any of this meaning for it to be any good. I was looking for rewards; genius needs an audience. I worked seven days for... this. What did I do wrong? I lost control of it, in the end. It didn't work. It didn't work, it didn't… I could cry a flood. Failure tastes like soap. Down there, the rain's coming down hard on shit city, stinking up the swamps and making the grass swamps and everything's swamp because it didn't work right. The whole world is shit city. The priests are begging, it smells like sex. The sky is hiccuping torrents from the angry clouds, slicking up the streets, making people slip and accidental deaths are being caused everywhere.

I don't feel like picking up the bodies. They can rot. At least they'repermanently dead.

I made this.

I made Adam and Eve, too. I hated those two when they had lasted, all gold-haired and blue-eyed, filthy brats. They loved each other. Of course they did... When Moses came to me, I should have told him the biggest sin was falling in love. But I, God, can't tell a story right and I can't delete love, so I'm virtually useless, hanging here- uselessly-over the clouds, staring at shit city.

They loved each other when they died and became Kuroda and Tsukishima, right? Would Moses or anybody else tell me that's right? I listened to their I hate you'sfor years. Kuroda cried to me for years.I can still hear him going on about being troubled while Tsukishima had signed away his life. Again. Why does this shit always happen? Tsukishima had stared Kuroda right in the eyes, walked away, and Kuroda had lost it afterward; just like they always do. It happens every time.

Kuroda had cried to me. Their story is out of my hands.

I wipe the tears from my eyes and look down at two boys walking down the street. It's just two boys- but no, it's the old, reborn hearts of Adam and Eve. This time, they're children. They're clothed. They aren't married. They aren't holding hands. They don't even look like they're going to start hurting each other. The tiny Oda is red-cheeked and smiling, and the little Saga is frowning at the sky. They're talking about books. It isn't as innocent as it seems, though- I know something bad will happen, I know Adam has jumped off buildings for Eve, and Eve has been hanged. I remember Onodera, from the last reincarnation, stalking Takano in libraries; it had been so innocent, and look what happened.

I've seen Hell burning in their eyes.

I have to do something.

The weather down there is responding to me, like it can feel me. The wind picks up. Saga's coat tails fly over his head and his umbrella snaps, broken. He's getting soaked in the heavy rain.

"Take it," I hear, crystal-clear in my head. Oda, running up behind him, gives Saga his own umbrella, even though the rain is attacking him and he's shaking, sick, and sneezing. Saga stares at him in disbelief. Oda still insists on Saga being dry even as my downpour threatens to kill him. He's thinking: My socks are squishy, my underwear is sticking to my butt, the rain is cold, I might get pneumonia, but Saga needs it more than I do. And I'll give it to him because I love him.

Goosebumps erupt on my arms. Saga thinks: So this is what love is like?

Oh, not again. They're just kids. Not again.

Concentrating and grunting, I hurl the rain at the couple standing on the street. They slip. It's a quick and painless pair of deaths, and I'm happy for all of two seconds before the time passes like lightning and I'm staring in mortification at their reincarnations. Their cooing like babies. Apparently, Eve has taken a liking to the name Ritsu, because Ritsu Onodera is cooing in a hospital smack in the middle of shit city. And Masamune Takano is learning how to walk on the other side of the world.

Adam and Eve, Onodera and Ritsu... they just can't stay apart, even though they're killing me. They're insane. I wonder how it'll go this time, and my head hurts; I squeeze my eyes shut. Ritsu's heart hammers in his tiny, weak chest, and the nurses swarm.

I know what they want, but this is my world. I'll break them apart if I want to.

My fingers grind together into fists. I'm just trying to do what's right.