14 A Brief Guide On Sharing Your Bathroom With An Obnoxious God

Three years ago…

It took Silvio a long time to come to. But when he did, the first thing he felt was coldness enveloping his body. Shivering, he lifted his arm. It was laden with snow, and he quickly realized he was lying in an open field. He sat up. Where was he…? What happened…?

He looked down at his hands, covered in the snaking burn-like marks of the Unforgivable.

Oh.

Now he remembered.

That really happened.

Silvio grit his teeth, willing himself not to cry, but the pain from the events of the last few hours still stung too freshly for him to hold back. He doubled over, both in grief and exhaustion, his tears freezing to his cheeks as they fell.

And he wept a long time, not for his lot, but for Jan.

If only he hadn't messed around with compounds he shouldn't have, then he'd still be…

And his death was caused by Silvio's hubris alone, his greedy desire to have the best project… to be the best Sorcerer… to get the best Blessing…

He was far from a hero, and now he understood what Crowe's warning meant.

Silvio staggered to his feet. His coat was ripped apart from the explosion, but it was the only thing he had to protect himself against the cold.

He couldn't sit around lamenting his fate. He had to be strong! It was as Eleora said—Rirasiru was out there, and he was the only one who could change destiny. And when everything was normal again, and Jan was alive, he would… he would try again.

That's all Silvio was able to think of, and that little seed of hope was enough to keep him going for now.

But if he stayed out in the open, he'd die before making contact with the stray God, so he willed himself forward. His feet weighed down on him like lead, but at least Eleora's healing magic worked. If she hadn't intervened, he likely would've eventually expired from his wounds as well.

It was hard to see in the storm. Silvio exited the field and entered a forest. The landscape was unfamiliar. Something told him he was in northern Gesmaura, but he couldn't find any of the glaciers characteristic of the region. So, he was probably right at the tree line.

He needed to find a village. But then again, would they be willing to help an Unforgivable? And furthermore, Silvio had no idea how to find Rirasiru. He supposed he ought to start finding clues as to his whereabouts, but what those were, he did not know. He shoved his hands in his pockets. He had a little money left. Good. If he could cover up most of his body and conceal his face in makeup, he could get around in disguise as a Worker. But he had neither proper clothes nor makeup—maybe he could fashion a cloak out of some spare fabric? If he met a fellow Unforgivable, maybe they could show him what to do? Or would they be keen on harming him?

No.

Silvio shook his head.

First he needed to find shelter from the storm.

Hunkering under the pine trees seemed tempting, but he remembered something Mica prattled on about when they traveled to Hakalai Pass that one time. Tree wells. They were voids that formed around trees, disguised by snow. If he fell in one, he'd never get back out, so he scrapped that idea.

… Mica!

Silvio brightened up, and reaching into his other pocket, pulled out a small, wooden keychain of a Samoyed dog.

Of course!

Mica was nice to Unforgivables! He'd help him!

For now, all he had to do was survive long enough to make it to Minumna.

And as if the Gods decided to have mercy on him, a small cabin appeared in front of him. Encouraged, Silvio ran toward it, peering through the window. No one was home. In fact, it looked like no one lived there in years. Surely the owner wouldn't mind if he took a rest?

He tried the door. No luck. It was locked.

But Silvio was determined to survive.

Unbuttoning his coat, he took the tie clip from his school uniform and bent it, sticking it in the keyhole. Meticulously twisting and turning it, the lock finally clicked open after several minutes.

Yes!

He barged inside.

There were musty blankets and jars of pickled vegetables lining the shelves. Maybe they were still good? He took a jar and twisted it open, smelling the contents. They seemed okay.

There weren't any supplies to build a fire, though, but that was all right. Silvio could warm himself with the blankets.

And on the desk there was a map, with his location circled.

It was as he thought. He was in northern Gesmaura. Silvio couldn't believe his luck—but then he realized Eleora probably had this all planned out. He didn't understand why she was helping him, but he was more than fine with it. If she was his ally, maybe he could beat Isaana at her own game before she found him.

He picked up the map and sat on the cot, wrapping his freezing body in the blankets and studying it. On foot, the journey to Minumna would take at least three weeks, and the terrain was largely unspoiled wilderness. The journey would be tough, but he had no choice than to make it.

Very well.

He'd rest for the night, and in the morning, his quest would begin.

--

Present day.

When Hana woke up, she was in a bed. And instead of smoke, she smelled the antiseptic sweet scent of a hospital room. She opened her eyes. Everything was quiet, and she sat up. But that didn't last long, as a spell of dizziness washed over her, forcing her to sink back into the pristine, white sheets.

Ah…

What she did really was stupid, wasn't it?

Silvio used to always get sick and hurt.

Maybe it was because of his foolhardiness, and due to channeling his energy some of his bad luck tacked itself onto her?

"Hello…?" she called. Her voice was raspy, and it hurt to talk.

A nurse rushed into her room.

"Oh, you're awake!" she said. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts… what time is it?"

"It's a quarter past twenty-two-hundred."

Hana gasped. "I was out for that long? … How am I alive?"

"His Holiness Zagiha-sa saved you. He took you out of the blaze and gave you first aid."

"Did I breathe in too much smoke?"

"Actually, the doctor says your lungs are fine. You passed out from not getting fresh air due to that bubble around your head. As soon as you were out of the blaze, you regained consciousness, but…" She gave a nervous chuckle. "… You were confused and lashed out violently, so emergency services knocked you out again with a poultice."

"Oh." Hana didn't remember any of that, but she blushed anyway. "Sorry…"

"No need! It's normal! You're not in trouble for it or anything."

"Oh," she repeated. Hana thought about Zagiha. If he saved her, then was he able to grab his other dog? If she hadn't intervened, would he have been able to save both of them? She hoped the animals were all right. She couldn't bear the guilt otherwise. "So I'll be okay?"

"Yes, you'll be just fine."

"Can I leave now?"

"You should stay a few hours just to make sure."

Hana shook her head. "I can't. I have work tomorrow."

The nurse sighed. "That's called leaving AMA, and it's a very bad idea."

"I really can't stay…"

"Fine." Her kind demeanor briefly gave out to exasperation, but she quickly regained her bedside manner. "If you're of sound mind, there's nothing we can do to prevent you from going. Do you at least have someone to take you home?"

Hana shook her head again.

"I'll… figure it out."

--

It was pitch-black when she left the hospital. Even during the elongated days of Gesmauran summer, the sun still had to set sometime.

Hana immediately regretted her decision. She still felt poorly, and the long walk to her apartment wasn't helping things, either. Nor did she have her staff, so she couldn't fly. At least there were people out and about, so she felt somewhat safe.

Hana hobbled down the streets, pondering whether she ought to hail a rickshaw or not—but none ever stopped for her.

This sucked.

By the time she got home to her cheap apartment, her body was drenched in sweat. She wasn't much of an athlete in the first place.

Andddd she still had five more flights of stairs to go.

Just a little more, she encouraged herself. And then she could enjoy a nice, long shower.

At last, she lugged her pitiful body into her apartment and flopped down on the rock-hard couch. Just a few minutes' rest, she thought, and THEN the shower.

Or… she could just nap. Hana was so drained, even the uncomfortable couch felt like lying on a fluffy cloud.

She closed her eyes, and relaxed.

And then her ears picked something up.

The sound of water running… from her bathroom.

Hana gasped in fear.

There's no way she left the water on this morning. And… and… was that the sound of… singing? A MAN singing?

She spent the whole journey home looking out for predators on the streets, and now there was one in her own home, using her shower?

What kind of crazy day was this?

She shook with fear. Hana didn't know what to do. She didn't have the energy to go to the police. But maybe… she could run him out on her own? Quiet as a mouse, Hana tiptoed to the kitchenette, grabbing a big knife from one of the drawers.

Stay calm… stay calm…

But really, she was terrified.

With the knife clutched in a viselike grip, she took a deep breath, and flung the bathroom door open.

"WHAT THE HELL?"

Zagiha, donned in a poofy shower cap, stared at her from behind the shower curtain, face also transfixed in fear.

"What are you doing in my gods-damned bathroom?! Is that a KNIFE?" he shrieked. "Pervert! Degenerate! How dare you gaze upon my immaculate form! LEAVE! GET OUT!" He threw his loofah brush at her, full speed ahead. It missed her by a hair, whistling past her with insane force.

"YOUR BATHROOM?" Hana shrieked in return. "This is MY bathroom, and you're trespassing!"

"Uh, no." Zagiha scowled, pulling the curtain tighter around him. "I came from that door, leading from my new apartment, into this bathroom, therefore it's mine."

"What do…?" Hana stopped mid-sentence. On the opposite end of the bathroom was a door that wasn't there before. How did it…? Her eyes wandered over to the massive cabinet formerly covering it up, now shoved to the side like garbage.

Oh.

Ohhhh.

Now she got it.

"You didn't question that there was a cabinet in front of it? You didn't notice the other door?" she asked flatly.

"I assumed that was a maintenance closet or something," Zagiha huffed.

"And my flower-print towels and toiletries didn't raise any alarms?"

"What sort of apartment doesn't provide basic hygienic products?"

"You used my soap?"

"It smelled nice."

"How sheltered are…?" Hana sputtered. Of course a God wouldn't have any common sense. After being pampered all his existence, Zagiha probably had no concept of how normal people lived. "… So, uh, it seems the property owners chose the cheapest contractors possible and decided two strangers ought to share a bathroom."

"That's obvious."

"What do Gods need bathrooms for, anyway?" Hana crossed her arms. "Don't tell me you…" Her eyes wandered to the toilet.

"Get your mind out of the gutter!" Zagiha snapped, face turning bright red. "I would never dare do something so obscene! This body of mine isn't organic, just a puppet mimicking a human. Of COURSE I don't… defecate. But it still gets dirty, so I need to wash it!"

"But I'm fifteen! And you're…"

"Two thousand, four hundred and fifteen years old, and ninety-seven days. Look, do you think I'm thrilled about this? Because I'm not. If this gets out, then my reputation is ruined. Not that I'm interested in…" He gestured up and down her entire body. "Prepubescent boys."

Hana debated whether beating the tar out of him was worth being smote for.

"Look." Zagiha turned off the water. "How much do I need to pay you to move?"

"What?"

"You heard what I said. I'm paying you to move. Name your price."

"That's called being a sugar daddy! There is literally nowhere else in Modrica to live! Look at you. You are an all-powerful God who probably makes more money in a month than I will in my life, but this garbage apartment complex was still the only space available for you."

"Ah…" Zagiha's lips flapped uselessly. "I had… heard Modrica had a housing crisis, but I thought surely they were exaggerating… Well, girl, it seems we're at an impasse."

"It's Hana."

"What?"

"My name?"

"Very generic. Look, I know I said my body is an artificial construct and all, but I still have a sense of shame, so could we please not have this conversation while I'm buck naked?" He grabbed her towel from the rack. Hana felt too defeated to say anything about it. "Although, maybe this is serendipity. I wanted to talk with you anyway. Come to my apartment in twenty minutes. If you ignore me, I'll just go to yours."

It's not like she had much of a choice. The ball wasn't just in Zagiha's court—Hana was never in the game to begin with. She definitely didn't want to talk to him anymore (could the man even go five sentences without insulting her?), but she couldn't defy a God. So she just backed out of the bathroom and let him finish using her stuff. At the very least, she wasn't tired now.

Hana was worried. She had an idea what he wanted to talk to her about, and she wondered if she'd exit his apartment alive. Letting the twenty minutes pass, she exited her room and went next door, knocking on it.

Zagiha answered, dressed in a very expensive-looking scarlet bathrobe and… corgi slippers. She barely suppressed a snicker. An actual corgi joined him moments later, poking its snout from between its master's legs. What was its name again? Winston. Winston was with him, but there was no sign of Buttercup. Hana's stomach dropped.

"You're eight seconds late," said Zagiha.

"Sorry…?"

"Buttercup's at the vet," he said, unprompted. "She suffered a few minor burns and smoke inhalation, but her lungs should heal fully."

What a relief…

"Come in."

She did as she was told, and…

His apartment was the most pathetic place she'd ever seen.

Bits and bobs of wood and screws were scattered about. She had a feeling they were supposed to become furniture eventually, but what he did have assembled was so ramshackle she didn't trust them to not collapse and kill her. A naked mattress lay on the ground beneath the window, as though daring the moon to bear witness to this sacrilege of interior design. The walls were completely bare, and a burnt smell wafted from the kitchenette. Hana cringed. She'd had quite enough of burning for the day!

Ah.

This must be what they call a "bachelor pad."

Zagiha turned over a furniture box and sat on an untrustworthy easy chair. "Please," he said, "have a seat."

She sat on the box. It was probably the "good" furniture.

"Nice place you've got here…" she stuttered.

"You know I can detect any lie, right?" asked Zagiha. "Whatever. You try pulling together an entire living space in one afternoon!" He shuffled around his seat a bit, and yanked out a sheet of paper from beneath him. "Have you ever assembled discount furniture before? This is incomprehensible!"

She looked at the instruction sheet. Oh. She understood now, in that she didn't understand.

"So." He picked up his dog and set him in his lap, petting him. "What I wanted to talk to you about."

Oh boy. Here it comes.

"First, I believe I owe you an apology."

… Huh?

Was Zagiha being… decent?

He took a dramatic breath. "But only for the way I treated you at breakfast. It wasn't your fault you ran out of eggs and the food was awful and my coffee was massacred."

Wait. He was still terrible.

"I acted very entitled and was rude, and for that, I'm sorry." He shook his head, briefly dropping the haughty, cold expression he wore. "I've just been really put through the wringer lately! First I had to deal with that suspected terrorist escaping, and then the fire! All my brand name suits were lost in the inferno, and to top it off, my personal chef quit on me! Don't you hate it when that happens?"

Hana didn't know what to say to that, but she could believe his personal chef quitting was something that happened to Zagiha on a regular basis.

Zagiha ramped up the intensity of his dog petting. "It's just—I'm the patron deity and have to seem like I have everything under control all the time, but I don't! I have no idea how that explosion happened, and I don't know what'll come next! It worked out this time, but… I have to reassure the whole population it's okay because I'm here, but even Gods can't know everything! This is a disaster of massive proportions! I'm freaking out!"

Hana just let him vent. He needed it.

He took a kerchief from his breast pocket and dabbed at his eyelids. "Ugh, I haven't been this down since my wife left me two weeks ago! All I have left of her is pictures, but now they're charred to ash."

Wonder why that didn't work out?

Hana then felt bad for thinking that. She was starting to understand Zagiha now. He probably wasn't a bad person, but lacked social skills and let his anger and stress out on innocent people. She couldn't believe it, but she felt bad for him when just a few minutes ago she was about to defenestrate him. Gods went through bad times, too.

"That's rough," she said.

"Isn't it?" Winston escaped his clutches and trotted to the mattress, jumping on it. "But I shouldn't have lashed out. Forgive me for making you part of my moment of weakness."

"Thank you for the apology," said Hana. "I accept." He was still kind of rude, though. But if he was self-aware, maybe there was hope for him yet.

"And…" He grumbled and groused. "Trying to help find my babies was exceedingly kind. But! What you did was stupid! Moronic, feeble-minded, foolishness! You could've died! I'm a God; I can do dumb things. If my body gets too damaged, all I have to do is retreat to the Celestial Heavens for a few weeks and generate another, but humans only have one!"

"Uh…" she twiddled her thumbs. "To be fair, I didn't know you were a God at the time. What I meant to do was teleport you out…"

"Oh. Ohhhh… Well, that's also stupid."

There was no winning with Zagiha, was there?

He got up. "Still, bravery is a commendable quality to have. If you learned to be brave and sensible at the same time, there'd be no stopping you. And, I… I guess I was also stupid for losing your staff, so to make up for it, I got you a little something."

Zagiha fetched two boxes and unceremoniously plopped them in her lap. Hana opened the first one, and was blown away. Inside were dozens of enchanted gems, including some rare ones, too. In the other box, a finely crafted staff of purple heart wood, a signature carved into it. Eriksson Woodworks, the premier staff boutique in Gesmaura.

"I can't accept this!" she babbled.

"Huh? Why not?"

"It's too expensive!"

"What?" He cocked his head like a confused puppy. "It was only thirty thousand kronora. How is that expensive?"

He genuinely had no idea how the real world worked, did he?

"I don't mind buying little trinkets to show my appreciation. Just take it and don't make a fuss!"

"Uh… okay… thank you."

"There we go."

"I was trying to be like my brother."

"Huh?"

Hana shuffled on top of the box. "If my brother were still here, I'd be the one lecturing him for being stupid, but he always got things done, so I thought if I was like him for once, I could save you."

"Oh." Zagiha's demeanor softened a little. "Where's your brother?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen him in three years." She folded her hands in her lap. "Isaana turned him into an Unforgivable. I came to Modrica to find him, but I don't even know if he's alive anymore."

"I see." For once, Zagiha didn't offer a snarky comment. "I know what it's like to be separated from someone you love. At least I know my ex-wife's alive and well. What's your brother's name?"

"Silvio Sabatka."

"…" Zagiha stared at her for several moments, but she couldn't read the expression on his face. "Could you repeat that?" he asked.

"Silvio Sabatka. Why?" She returned his stare. "Do you know him?"

"Ah… um…" he stammered. "No! I don't! But maybe, er, um, if he's been booked into the prison system, there might be records of his whereabouts."

Hana sprang from her seat. "You can check them?"

"It is… dubiously legal." Zagiha got out of the easy chair and moved to the kitchenette. "But dubiously legal is still technically legal. Who wants steak?"

Hana found it strange how he was trying to change the subject. But when he came over with a cold lump of meat burnt to a husk encrusted on a cast-iron pan, her mind switched gears to finding a way to get out of eating it.

"Did you make that?" she croaked.

"Yes!" Zagiha said. "Rory—he's my High Priest—was so worried about me living alone for the first time ever. I mean, there's no way to fit servants in this apartment for ants, but I think perhaps that's a good thing. Doing chores on my own for once can distract me from the fact my life is in shambles!"

"It's very… seared, isn't it?" said Hana. "And how have you been liking living on your own so far?"

Zagiha's false bravado deflated like a sad balloon, and he scraped out the desecrated steak, throwing it into a solid platinum dog bowl. Excited, Winston hopped off the mattress and waddled on over, sticking his head in, but after taking one whiff, snapped his snout back up and gave his owner a baleful look.

"Terrible!" he answered. "It's been about five hours and I already hate it. I don't know what I'm doing. I've never cooked; never assembled furniture… never even washed a dish! Except for law, I don't know anything at all!"

Hana scanned the apartment once more. Yes, that was very clear.

"When you made it," she asked, "did you take it directly off the ice and into the pan?"

Zagiha blinked a few times. "Yes. Don't you just put food on fire and then it's done?"

Hana sighed. Oh boy. He was hopeless. "What you're supposed to do is let it warm up to room temperature first. You heated the pan too hot. When the steak's only a few centimeters thick, you want to cook it on as high heat as you can, but since this one was really big, a more moderate temperature would've been better."

"Ah…" Zagiha sighed. "That's harder than I imagined it would be."

"Basic cooking isn't hard at all," said Hana, "but you have to start out simple and follow the recipe."

"Simple? As in?"

"Omelets."

Zagiha blushed and muttered something under his breath. But then, a moment later, a light bulb seemed to turn on in his head, and he gasped with excitement. "I just had an idea!" he cried.

"And that is?" asked Hana.

"You're a poor person, aren't you?"

"Uh…"

Zagiha laced his fingers together and beamed. "You can show me how to do all these things!"

"W-What?"

"I'll pay you, of course. How's five thousand kronora a week sound?"

"A week?" Hana stuttered.

"It's a beginner's salary. How much do you make at your job right now?"

"Three… hundred… biweekly."

Zagiha gasped again, this time in indignation. "Three hundred biweekly! Tuppence! You unfortunate thing! How do you even live? Come on. I'm taking you under my wing. Actually, be my intern. After the attack, people are bound to have quit, so I have a vacancy."

"W-What?" Hana stuttered. She had no idea what Zagiha was going on about all of a sudden. "But I…"

"Are you enjoying your job right now?"

She paused, and thought. Hana loved cooking. It was her passion, but she hated the restaurant industry. She hated how the chef dismissed her and relegated her to cooking eggs. Maybe, even if she liked cooking, she didn't want it to be her career…

"A government internship is very interesting," continued Zagiha. "My interns do tons of fulfilling things! They fetch my coffee, send out form letters, reject the petitions I don't care about… and maybe you'll be the one being fetched coffee one day if you keep up with it!"

"I… I don't get it," said Hana. "You suddenly want me to quit my job and work for you. A prestigious internship under a God. And you hate my guts, don't you?"

"Hate you?" Zagiha wrinkled his nose, puzzled. "I never hated you. What gave you that impression?"

"It's, uh…" Hana zipped her lips.

"There's a practical reason for this, too." Zagiha crossed his arms. "I'm helping you find your brother, right? If you weren't my intern, wouldn't the paparazzi have a field day wondering why I'm hanging out with a little girl?"

She didn't appreciate being called a little girl, but she agreed a cover was for the best.

"Okay," said Hana. "But don't you have a lot of work to get done? Why do you care so much about helping me find Silvio?"

"Considering the most important courthouse in the continent is currently destroyed, I imagine court will be out of session until a suitable space is found." Zagiha sat back down. "And as I said, your story touched me. It's been several hundred years since I last did any investigative work. I long for the thrill of the case again! But, I'm not forcing you. You can take the offer or leave it. If you're taking it, meet me back here at 0500. You humans have to sleep, right?"

"Uhh…" Hana glanced at the clock. 0130. Was he out of his mind? "O-Okay."

"All right. It's been a long day. Goodnight, Hana."

And with that, he unceremoniously waved her back through the bathroom to her own apartment.

Hana didn't know what to think. She didn't wholly believe Zagiha's explanation, but he was her best lead. As she crawled into bed, the exhaustion she felt before crashed over her, and she fell into a restless twilight state, mulling the events of the day over in her head.