Disclaimer: I do own nothing save my shirt and half-gone cup of tea. Mai-Hime and Mai-Otome still belong to their rightful owners.

If they ever tell you that heaven is the most beautiful place of all, do not believe them.

And if they tell you that gods are the happiest creatures of all, do not believe them either.

I am a goddess, I know what it takes.

Beings as myself, you usually call "smaller gods", which means I have not created anything, I was just appointed with custody over this little part of human realm. A handful of villages (some of them even on their way to extinction), a little bit of a forest, a tad of mountains and a sea so small it could easily pass as a particularly big lake. Nothing to envy, really.

As for my own part of heaven, I inherited it as a patch of bare land. Everything you see here: this low house of Japanese style, this peaceful garden with a pond inhabited by red and golden carps, those stone paths intersecting on a sandy yard, I painstakingly made from scratch. Not that I have ever shown how bothersome it was.

No, when you're a god - even if only a smaller one - in all times you must keep façade. Smile: not too wide but pleasant enough. Speech: as courteous as possible without disgracing or humbling yourself before subjects and fellow gods, and even more humble than that when speaking with higher entities. Manners: always impeccable and of highest sort. It's not that merry and easy being a god, not at all.

At times it can become quite boring. It's true that being a god comes with certain duties and powers. I listen to prayers and wishes, I gather praise, I send a curse on a particularly disobedient individual or village and bless those living faithfully. The latter happens much more often than the former, actually. It's not that I am a lenient goddess, I simply believe in positive feedback and reinforcement more than in punishment.

Well, it's not entirely true. While I do want to be adored and worshipped by my subjects without fear, I am not given many chances to prove what kind of god I am. People are no longer how they used to be.

Ages ago they would mention my name with every other breath. They would swear on me and bless in my name, they would ask for my blessings in every little enterprise of theirs and thank me for every single good that happened to them. They would worship me in the evening, thanking for a day gone by and asking for a peaceful night; and in the morning, they would praise me through the rising sun and surrender all their plans and deeds to me.

These days, as generations have passed since my taking a custody over this land, many of them relegated me to the same stock as dwarfs, fairies, elves and this funny, toothy creature that is supposed to bring children gifts during equinoxes. Rarely they remember of me and only when they find themselves or their families in the toughest of situations.

I do not resent them for that. I only want to say that once in a while it may become boring.

What is this hellish noise?

I am trying to enjoy my afternoon cup of freshly brewed tea when angry shouts and yells reach my ears, breaching the calm of my seclusion.

I take a peek to human realm to find out who dares to interrupt my sacred time of meditation.

Ah, there they are - it seems as if the entire village of Fuuka moved out at once. They formed a procession that at the moment is heading through the forest to the hill where their ancestors built my altar a few ages ago.

With them they are probably leading a sacrifice to be killed and burned on the altar. I notice the movement amongst them, it seems that the beast is not that eager to be killed in the name of some long forgotten goddess.

I can't help but wonder what is it that they want of me in the exchange for their offering. I don't recall sending any particular plague or curse on those parts of land. No pleas nor prayers reached me in those past days either. So what this whole ruckus would be about?

And this sacrifice. I know that today's folk do not care much for legends, myths and holy stories. But is it too much for them to remember that I am not fond of their holocausts? I took a distant liking to the generation living about a millennium ago that took a cue from a story I inspired one of their bards to write, and decided to offer fruits and flowers on my altar. But besides them none other learned from the story. It seems to me that in their eyes a sacrificial lamb or calf will have much greater impact on my decision than something else. And because of that I have not only bear with the acrid smoke, but also find a creative way to dispose of this mass of meat each and every time.

But I digress too much.

Better to observe them and learn of their purpose this way.

The whole procession finally left the woods, entering the small clearing on top of the hill and I am able to take a closer look on the creature they plan to sacrifice.

Ara, surely they do not want to sacrifice her in the usual way, right?

Not this young girl of almost unearthly complexion, hair black with a hint of blue, and eyes more intensely green than any emerald this earth has ever born?

TBC

Here come Author's Notes.

Thanks a lot for reading this little piece. It's my first time writing for this fandom and first time writing a story completely in English (so bear with any possible flaws ^^").

I kind of have the story outlined so there's quite a possibility of me continuing but no promises here. It's going to be RWP (Romance without Plot) :P

*sets a stand with free cookies for every reviewer*