...Do as the Giants Do

“I am many things,” Orion declared, “you can’t even imagine a tiny fraction of them.”

“So a Dark Lord?” Emi said, wrapping the bandages around his left arm.

The gauze clung to drying blood, rough against his smooth skin. She was kneeling beside him on the tatami mat, a little first aid kit open at her side. Her fingers moved with focused care, dabbing a soaked cotton pad into the red-soaked scratches along his cheeks.

Orion winced ever so slightly.

“Hold still,” Emi said, blowing gently across the wound before applying the sting of antiseptic. “You’re lucky that guy didn’t cut deeper.”

“I let him win,” Orion muttered, chin tilted up in defiance. His eyes flicked down to her hands, small and determined as they pressed fresh gauze against his ribs.

“Yeah, sure,” she said, not buying it for a second. “That’s why your lip looks like it went through a meat grinder.”

She paused, dipping the little cotton swab back into the antiseptic like it was some ritual.

Orion glanced down at her, suddenly quiet.

“You didn’t have to stop him.”

“I know,” Emi replied, not meeting his eyes. “I just… didn’t want anyone to die.”

A beat of silence passed. Then she looked up at him, soft but serious.

“I don’t know everything about you. But I don’t… I don’t think you’re just a monster.”

His expression remained the same, at least for a little while. Soon, the tension in his shoulders eased, just slightly. He leaned back against the table, head tilted, eyes closed like he was thinking of something far away.

“You should be careful saying things like that,” he murmured. “You might end up believing them.”

Emi paused, pulling her hands back just a little, her fingers stained with crimson. The silence lingered between them, not uncomfortable – merely deep in thought.

She glanced up at him again as she was washing her hands.

“Tell me about Gigas,” she said softly. “What does that word mean?”

Orion’s eyes opened, slow and steady, as if he’d been waiting for the question all this time.

With a commanding voice, he answered:

“Giants.”

The word settled into the room like a stone into deep water.

“Not just… the big things… with wooden clubs,” he added. “But gods…”

“Huh, really? You don’t say… so they’re big then?”

“Impossibly so. Some dwarfing moons and stars.”

Emi tilted her head, watching him.

“Are you… a god?”

He was quiet for a long moment. Before replying:

“There is only one God.”

“Huh…” her voice now barely above a whisper, “did this… God choose you?”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looked at the bandage on his arm. The place she had tended to. Her hands still hovering near him.

“Yes,” he said finally. “He did.”

Emi nodded, slowly. Letting it sink in.

Then, in a soft attempt at levity, she nudged his shoulder.

“Well, us mortals here also have royalty, just so you know. Burger flippers, office workers, paperwork kings and queens. You know, the really exciting stuff.”

“Well then… you’ll have to take me to this… burger aristocrat one of these days.”

She giggled.

“Yeah. Sure thing.”

The next day…

The sunlight of the new day spilled over onto the clean pavements, bathing the school with a fresh cloak of warm brilliance. While the unmistakable sound of fangirls squealing in the distance was drowning out the morning chirping of the birds.

Terran stood at the school gates like a monolith carved from disdain and cold elven steel. Stoic. Silent. Noble. All being held back by how uncomfortable the Earth uniform was making him feel.

The elf wasn’t even technically at high school age.

The other girls from the other classes clustering nearby were whispering, giggling, daring each other to say hi. One of them even fainted.

He didn’t even blink.

And neither did Orion as the two titans locked eyes on each other. There Orion stood unmoving – white hair catching the breeze, his bandaged arm resting in his pocket.

They did not move, nor did they speak. Two angry statues, clothed in what they deemed as clown costumes.

“Aw, you two are like two peas in a pod,” Emi giggled, approaching from behind.

Their laser death glare did not deter her one bit, still very much enjoying this whole thing. Then came the sound of loud sneakers and obnoxious laughter. The group of wannabe delinquents from the day before showed up again, trailing behind Terran like baby ducks following behind an apex predator.

“Ayo, boss, looking sharp today!”

“We ready to throw down if White-Hair tries anything!”

“Yeah, we’ll show ‘im what’s good.”

Terran slowly turned his head to the punks, then back at Orion, as if feeling the need to justify and defend himself.

“I don’t know who these people are,” he said flatly. “They just followed me.”

Orion blinked, slowly. While Emi continued to struggle holding in her laugh.

Finally breaking the silence, seemingly like he’d had enough, Orion flatly said:

“What are you doing here?”

Terran didn’t look at him at first. He adjusted his stiff collar like it was made of thorns.

“To keep an eye on you, o’ mighty one. And if I have to blend into the local culture to do that... so be it.” A pause, followed by him rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Besides… it wasn’t really… my idea.”

All three of them turned to look down the hallway.

And there, standing next to a vending machine with a giant coffee mug in hand – was none other than Sterling.

He gave them a huge thumbs up, smiling with the self-satisfaction of a man who absolutely knew this would mess with everyone’s day.

“You’re welcome!” he called out, chugging down his hot beverage not even realizing it was spilling right onto his shirt, furiously burning his chest hair.

Terran closed his eyes for a long, long moment. Followed by Orion’s eyebrow twitching and Emi bursting out laughing.