Chapter 73: The Longing of a Lonely God

The forbidden seed in my heart wasn’t a seed anymore. It was a raging, thorny vine, wrapping itself around my very being, and its thorns all whispered the same impossible, dangerous thing.

I have to see him.

That thought became the sun my entire universe revolved around. My divine duties, the billions of souls in my queue, the very fabric of cosmic order I was supposed to maintain-it all faded into a gray, irrelevant background. There was only the screen. There was only World #1024-Caelum. There was only Natsuki.

My office, once a model of divine efficiency, transformed into a one-woman command center for Operation: Stalk My Reincarnated Ex. The main monitor was permanently locked onto his feed. I rerouted auxiliary screens, normally used for tracking multiversal energy fluxes, to show his character sheet, his local weather, and a real-time map of his location. My celestial throne was permanently littered with popcorn bowls and empty mugs of starlight mocha.

Days bled into weeks, weeks into months. I watched, transfixed, as Natsuki took his first steps in his new life. I saw him discover his [Spirit Blade Sovereign] power, his eyes wide with childlike wonder as a blade of pure, shimmering light formed in his hand. I watched him stumble into the first town, Aeria, a beautiful place built on the back of a gentle, sky-swimming beast. I saw my [Beloved by All] skill work its magic as the townsfolk, instead of being suspicious, welcomed him with open arms, charmed by his kind eyes and goofy, infectious grin.

He was a natural. Everything I had given him, he used with an innate goodness that made my chest ache. He used his spirit blade not to fight, but to help a farmer cut down a dead tree. He used his heroic charisma to mediate a squabble between two merchants in the town square. He used the [Divine Cooking EX] skill I’d given him on a whim to bake bread for the local orphanage, and the children looked at him like he was a saint.

He was happy. He was thriving. He was perfect. And every perfect, happy moment was another beautiful, glittering shard of glass twisting in my heart.

Isao did not take this well.

At first, he tried his usual tactics. He would materialize in his chair, make a snarky comment about my "new favorite television show," and try to distract me with gossip from the other divine realms.

“You’ll never guess what the God of Agriculture did,” he’d say, trying to sound interesting. “He tried to create a sentient pumpkin spice latte. It gained self-awareness and is now leading a rebellion in the autumnal fields. It’s a whole thing.”

“Uh-huh,” I’d reply, my eyes glued to the screen as Natsuki learned how to ride a Gryphon. “That’s nice.”

His mockery fell flat. His gossip went unheard. He was being ignored, and for a being as dramatic and attention-seeking as the God of Death, this was the ultimate insult.

So he escalated. He started bringing me things. He’d appear with a tray of the most exquisite pastries from the celestial bakery, little cakes that tasted like nebulas and scones filled with crystallized sunlight.

“I brought you a void-berry tart,” he’d offer, holding it out. “It’s your favorite.”

“Thanks,” I’d say, taking it without looking and setting it aside, my attention fixed on Natsuki’s first sparring session with the captain of the Aeria town guard.

The uneaten tarts and cakes began to pile up on a side table, a sad, delicious monument to his failed attempts. His frustration grew, simmering under the surface like black smoke. He switched from bribery to warnings.

“The Over-Council sent a query today, Akane,” he said one afternoon, his voice grim. “They’ve noticed the energy drain from your domain and the… irregularities in your reincarnation processing times. Your soul queue backlog has increased by 37,000%. There are souls who died of old age who have been waiting longer than their entire mortal lifespan to be processed.”

“I’ll get to it,” I muttered, watching Natsuki win the sparring match, not with brute force, but with clever footwork that made the gruff captain laugh and clap him on the back.

“Will you?” Isao’s voice was sharp. “Or will you sit here and watch this boy live the perfect life you gift-wrapped for him until your own duties crumble into dust around you? This isn't just about breaking a rule anymore, Akane. This is an obsession. It’s unhealthy.”

He was right. I knew he was right. Part of me, the logical, goddess part, was screaming at me to stop. But the other part, the foolish, lovesick ghost of Akane Suzuki, had her hands firmly on the controls.

The breaking point came about three months in. Natsuki had left the starting town, following a rumor of a ‘wyvern’ that was troubling a nearby floating island. It wasn’t a real threat; I had designed the world’s ecosystem carefully. This was a ‘Lesser Sky-Lizard,’ a creature with the appearance of a dragon but the temperament of a grumpy goose. It was meant to be a starter boss, a safe way for him to test his growing skills.

But as I watched him climb the path to the creature’s lair, my divine senses went into overdrive. I could feel the unstable shale beneath his boots. I could see the way the wind was picking up, threatening to push him off the narrow cliffside path. I analyzed the Sky-Lizard’s attack patterns, its nest location, its potential weak spots. I was no longer a passive observer; I was a backseat gamer, and my anxiety was skyrocketing.

The fight began. Natsuki was doing well, his spirit blade a blur of light as he parried the creature’s clumsy lunges. But then the Sky-Lizard got lucky. It whipped its tail around, not even as a direct attack, and knocked a shower of loose rocks from the cliff face above.

Natsuki was focused on the creature in front of him. He didn’t see the small avalanche tumbling towards him.

Time seemed to slow down. My heart seized in my chest. Before I even knew what I was doing, my hand shot out towards the screen, my fingers crackling with amethyst energy. I was about to cast a [Divine Shield] across a thousand light-years of reality, a blatant, cataclysmic act of interference that would have brought the full wrath of the Over-Council down on me in a heartbeat.

At the last possible second, Natsuki’s own instincts kicked in. He must have heard the rumble, because he dove to the side, rolling out of the way just as the rocks crashed down where he had been standing. The Sky-Lizard, startled by the noise, shrieked and flew away. The battle was over. He was safe.

But I was left trembling, my hand still outstretched, the forbidden power still crackling around my fingertips. I had almost done it. I had almost broken the one rule that could get me erased from existence, all to save him from a minor scrape.

Watching wasn’t enough anymore. It was torture. I needed to be closer. I needed to be there, to see him with my own eyes, to breathe the same air. I needed to make sure he was safe, even if I had to do it from the shadows.

A new idea, even more reckless and insane than the last, bloomed in my mind, fully formed and terrifyingly beautiful. I couldn’t go as a goddess. That was impossible. But a goddess could create a vessel, a mortal avatar, and send a tiny fraction of her consciousness into it. It was a loophole. A dangerous, forbidden loophole, but a loophole nonetheless.

I wouldn’t be Akane, the Goddess of Reincarnation. I would be someone else. A normal girl. A traveler. Maybe… a hero. Someone who could join an adventuring party and fight by a certain hero’s side.

I looked over at Isao. He had watched the whole scene, his face pale, his silver eyes wide with a mixture of horror and dawning realization. He saw the new, determined light in my eyes. He knew what I was planning.

He didn't yell. He didn't warn me. He just let out a long, slow sigh, the sound of utter defeat.

“You’re really going to do it, aren’t you?” he whispered, his voice laced with a profound sadness I had never heard from him before. “You’re going to throw it all away for him.”

I turned back to the screen, where Natsuki was dusting himself off and looking around with a relieved, goofy grin. I looked at that smile, the smile that had started all of this, the smile I had crossed the streams of reality to see again.

“I am,” I said, my voice firm, leaving no room for argument. “Celeste, begin drafting a mortal avatar template. Codename: Magical Girl ☆ Amethyst Aki.”

The show was over. It was time for a guest appearance.