Once upon a time, in Nekomi Japan, there was an old shoemaker. He produced a small number of high quality leather shoes for a small market of rich men and women. But although his cliental was rich, he was poor, for you see rich men and women still will not spend much money on shoes. So every day he labored, making the best shoes he could. This old shoemaker had married a beautiful and kind lady that had died young. She had been so beautiful and he had been so in love with her that he could never find it in himself to remarry. As a result, in his old age, he was alone. Although his mind was still nimble, his fingers had become stiff.
Once upon a time, in that same town, there was a small goddess. She had two beautiful older sisters, though she was young and maybe a little pudgy from enjoying too much ice cream. The small goddess enjoyed building machines and working with technology. Every day she toiled to build wonderful new inventions, such as giant robots capable of stomping Nekomi into the ground, killer superdroids that made an Angel Eater look positively friendly, and sixth megadimension hyperbombs that could obliterate most of the Local Group. But even with her wonderful inventions she was not happy, because her older sisters, although kind, thought very little of her, precisely because she was so small.
One day, the old shoemaker was at his shop. Outside, winter was rampaging across Nekomi. There was a foot of snow, but not the pleasant white stuff of a merry Christmas. The snow was dark from the soot of automobile exhaust, the failure of ineffective salt and sand, and a week of human activity and pollution. It was cold outside of the shop and just as cold inside. The old shoemaker was working as hard and as fast as he could. He was old though, and his fingers did not move as they once did. He said, "Woe is me. I am alone and without wife or children. If I cannot finish these shoes, I do not know how I will eat."
Now it so happened that the old shoemaker's voice traveled through a broken window and to the ears of our young goddess. She was riding to the market on her transformer robot / motorscooter Banpei. "What's that?" she asked. "Who isn't going to eat?" The little goddess drove her motorscooter over to the window of the shoemaker's store and peered in the window.
Inside, the shoemaker was hunched over a table. He was wearing a patched overcoat and old worn fedora. He had fingerless gloves and blue tipped hands. His nose was red and his breath steamed in the cold dry air. Old spectacles hung on his nose precariously.
The small goddess said, "Hey Mister, hold on." The old man looked up confused and did not see the small goddess at the window.
"Who's there?" asked the old shoemaker, confused. "Can I help you?"
The small goddess with black hair and three blue sigils, one on her forehead and two on her cheeks, opened the door. The transformer robot followed her in. "My name is Skuld, and I am here to help you!," the small goddess said in her squeaky voice.
"Can you really help me?," said the old shoemaker a little dubiously.
"Absolutely! Just like my older sister, well, my good older sister, not my stupid one, I will grant you a wish." said the small goddess. "For I am Goddess Second Class, limited license, Skuld! I have seen how you suffer and I have decided to reward you!"
"Well bless my soul," said the old man. "A wish you say?"
"Yes, just say anything you want. For I am a goddess and I will make sure it happens. Goddesses must not lie and so you can trust me."
The old shoemaker thought for a moment and then another. Finally, with a wisdom brought on by age and experience and hard work, he said, "I wish that I had a young pretty wife that is super rich and a complete pervert in the sack so that I can retire in comfort and style in Tahiti."
The small goddess' jaw dropped and reached for a bomb she kept hidden for just such an occasion, but then she quickly remembered. "Oh, let me introduce you to my older sister Urd."