Chapter Text
The first person to come to Garou's new demesne was Bado. It was hardly surprising; he was the most openly affectionate of Garou's friends, also unsurprising given his domain. He wasn't going to let Garou go un-chastised for disappearing and worrying him.
He was also, thankfully, easily distracted. And Garou's little pocket of space had plenty of distractions.
“Where'd you get 'em all?” Bado asked, slightly muffled by fur. The wolf pack had taken to him just as quickly as Garou.
“I didn't really get 'em anywhere. Animals can come and go from here,” Garou said. He was sitting beneath a tree, a couple older wolves napping nearby. “I'm not sure why they're so friendly, though.”
“'Cuz they're yours, duh. Most gods have a patron animal.” Bado choked and sputtered as one of the wolves tried to stick its tongue in his mouth. “Mine're cats!” he said. “Do your wolves wanna eat me?”
“They're treating you like one of the pack who's been gone for a while.”
“Ha!” He ducked beneath the biggest of them, and finally emerged from the pile carrying two puppies. “You missed me.”
“I didn- Maybe. What's that got to do with anything?”
“They're reflecting your mood!”
Garou huffed and folded his arms, allowing Bado to drop a pup in his lap as he sat beside him.
“Where is this, anyway?” Bado asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You said the animals could come and go. Means this is a place in the mortal realm too.” Bado leaned back against the tree trunk. “S'nice. Is it this nice in real life?”
Garou looked out at the hill.
The wild grass and bushes were waving in a light breeze. The trees were widely spaced, mostly pine and cedar with a few apple and olive near Garou's home. The wolves ran freely, along with rabbits and deer. And all of it was lit by an unnaturally large and bright full moon hanging in the sky.
“It is in my memory,” Garou said.
He'd only spent one night on this hill, and never been back. There hadn't been a house there, that much he was certain of, but the rest... Surely it couldn't really be as peaceful as he remembered. He'd been exhausted.
It was winter, though there was no snow on the ground. He'd decided to rest for just a moment and woke surrounded by wolves. A scrawny passed-out fourteen-year-old must not have registered as a threat to them, and they were either well-fed or didn't think he had enough meat to be worth killing. He'd sat there for hours, insulated by the tree and the heavy coats of fur all around him, watching the moonless sky...
And then the old man found him. And everything changed.
“Let's go inside,” Garou said. He handed off the wolf pup to Bado, who brought them with him as he followed Garou to the house. It was probably fine. If the animals could sense Garou's mood in this place, they'd trust him to watch their kids.
“Didn't think this kinda house was your style,” Bado said as they walked up onto the porch.
It was wide, without railings, the better to sit and let your feet hang off as you sipped a cup of tea and watched the animals run and frolic. Terribly unsafe if Garou was ever sightless here, but it was his own demesne. How likely was that?
The rest of the house was better. Small, with wide hallways and airy rooms. None of the windows had glass and the walls were full of them, the better to let in the moonlight. There wasn't much furniture, the sitting area was set into the floor (where Garou's cane would easily be able to find it), and his bed was a soft mat that he could roll out anywhere.
“What?” Garou said. “You think I'd want a mansion? Or a castle like Saitama?”
“You don't even know what Saitama's castle looks like.”
“Sometimes I'm not sure if Saitama does.”
Bado laughed. “I dunno. It's just so old-fashioned. You're younger than every god but Isamu, I figured you for a nice hunting lodge or something.”
Garou shrugged.
But he knew exactly why his house had taken this shape. And unfortunately, if the old man ever came calling, he would too.
“I like the classics,” Garou said. And then the other thing Bado had said sunk in. “How old's Isamu then?”
“Ten, I think.”
“Ten? He's actually ten years old?” That was strange enough by itself, but also- “Wait, then he's not Vulcan's son? Didn't Vulcan die twelve years ago?”
Bado nodded. “Isamu's the son of a minor god who stayed out of the war.”
“Shit. Kid's done well for himself.”
Bado nodded again. “I'm gonna warn you right now bro, if you start trying to untangle all our family trees you're just gonna give yourself a headache. Even I only know about Isamu's parents 'cuz he still comes to use Vulcan's workshop.”
“I wanna know, though! If the old moon has any cousins or whatever who might be pissed off at me.”
“Diana was the daughter of the king of the gods, so she was cousin to practically everybody.”
“Oh...”
“Most of 'em are dead, though.” Garou saw Bado press his lips together, and he began petting the wolf pup in his lap with slow firm strokes. “That's what happens when you're all related to each other, I guess. Cycles of revenge. Mom kept us out of it. Tried to keep Vulcan out of it too, but the others kept askin' him for weapons, and...” His hand stilled.
“You were close with him?” Garou prompted. He hadn't ever put it together. Bado seemed like he was always on top of things, but one parent was dead, one had disappeared, and if Vulcan was a caring step-father that meant he'd lost a third.
“Yeah. I mean, he didn't play favorites. He and my mom had an understanding, he wasn't jealous or nothin'. He loved all of us kids.” Bado leaned back and waved at the corner of the porch, where he'd left his practice sword. “He made me that.”
It looked just like the ones Garou had used in training, a metal rod on a hilt, but Bado carried it everywhere.
“I'm sorry,” Garou said.
“Eh.” Bado shrugged. “Everybody lost somebody. I've still got all my siblings, and my mom – in theory. Not sayin' I'm not mourning, but... I'll be all right.”
“Okay.”
He didn't know what else to say. Having friends was a new enough experience that Garou wasn't sure how to be supportive in moments like this.
There was something he'd been thinking about, though. Ever since he realized the… limitations of his godly powers. He'd told Genos, sort of, but he knew Genos wouldn't spread it around.
“Hey,” he said, at the same time Bado said “So-”
They both laughed.
“You go,” Garou said.
“Nah, it's not important.”
Garou's was, but he said, “Go ahead.”
Bado gestured up at the false moon in this false sky. “You think you'll ever make it daytime around here? Not that it doesn't make a nice view, but I thought humans liked a daily cycle.”
“We do,” Garou said. “I do. I still sleep, I let the sky reflect the real one then. I think it's better for the wolves.”
“You can sleep when it's that bright out?” Bado asked. “You got all these windows.”
“It… it's not a problem.”
Garou swallowed. He should tell him. He should tell someone. He would have to tell Mumen eventually, and the old man, and everyone. He should tell one of his closest friends before any of them. At least he knew Bado wouldn't treat him like an invalid.
Bado nodded. “Guess you're naturally synced up that way now, huh.”
“I guess I am,” Garou agreed. It was true, if not the whole truth.
“What were you gonna say?” Bado asked.
He should tell him. He should. He should.
“One of your sisters is the god of pets, right?” Garou asked. “D'you think she could help me train the wolf puppies? It'd be nice if I can take 'em around with me and they won't run off or bite anybody I don't want 'em to.”
“Oh, for sure!” Bado picked up the pup and stared into its sleepy face. “Who wants to be domesticated? You do!”
Garou laughed. “I don't expect to domesticate them. They're still wild animals. Just teach 'em to be more relaxed around hum- people.”
“Zenko can totally hook you up.” Bado very gently set the pup on the porch, and then hopped off the porch and onto the ground. “Come on! Let's go talk to her!”
“Oh, uh, now?”
“Yeah now. Why not? It's daytime for everyone else, owlboy.”
“Owlboy,” Garou muttered.
“Come on! I wanna introduce you to everybody anyway.”
Garou climbed to his feet and walked along the porch, Bado following from about ankle-height. “How many people are we talking?”
“All my siblings? So, 21, not counting me.”
“Twenty-one?” Garou repeated, practically choking on the words.
“If everybody's home, yeah.”
“That's a lot!”
Bado shrugged. “You're my friend, bro. You're gonna have to meet most of 'em eventually.”
He scrambled over the stairs to grab his practice sword and kept on walking along the dirt path to the exit of Garou's demesne. He didn't look back to see if Garou was following, but he walked slowly, almost strolling.
Garou hesitated on the last step. “Fine,” he said, following before he could stop himself. “But we're taking my chariot.”
“Aww, Tama can carry both of us!”
If Garou had ever wondered what the home of the Goddess of Love would look like, he'd probably picture something... soft. Full of the scent of incense or flowers, random cushions or wide couches, an intimate space.
He would not have expected something that looked very much like the camp he'd trained at in the army, except a lot greener. When they landed – Garou parking his chariot as close to the main house as he dared – there was indeed a scent of flowers. Dandelions and clover instead of roses or lilies.
“Intimate spaces” might still be accurate, since there were small cabins spread out in a haphazard line. The main house was similar to a cabin too, but the wood beams were more decorative and it looked like there was marble beneath them. The doors and windows were flung open, and Garou could hear young voices coming from all directions.
Attached to the big house was a smaller building in plain gray stone, with smoke puffing gently from a wide chimney. The workshop Bado had mentioned, maybe?
“That's mine,” Bado said, pointing at the closest cabin. Garou noticed gouges taken out of the wood, as if Bado had used the walls for sword practice. “I'm the oldest who still lives here.”
“You don't have your own demesne?”
“I probably could, if I wanted, but why? I'm the god of familial love, my place is here.”
Seconds after the chariot touched down, several children with wide smiles identical to Bado's ran up to see them. Mostly children, anyway. As he looked around, Garou noted that there seemed to be more young adults and adolescents than Bado had made it sound. He might be the oldest, but it wasn't by much.
The siblings didn't look much like Bado. Or like each other. Only the smiles matched from face to face, all beaming as they asked questions and talked over each other.
“This is my friend Garou,” Bado said. “He's the new moon!”
“New moon like that phase only?” one of the kids asked. “Or the new god of the moon?”
“New god of the moon and don't sass me.”
Bado started pointing at siblings and naming them one by one, but Garou lost track after the first couple. A lot of them were poking and touching his chariot, and it had been a long time since Garou had this many eyes on him... Which had never led to good things in the past.
“Come on,” Bado said. “Let's go find Zenko.”
Out there, among the little cabins (one for each child?) decorated and tended to with love, away from the chariot that allowed Garou to see...
“I'll stay here while you find her,” Garou said.
“What?” Bado's brow furrowed. “Come on, there's more people for you to meet. Besides, I don't even know where she is.”
“I don't mind waiting.”
“Why are you-” He stopped, suddenly, gaze flicking down. Garou didn't know what he was seeing, but it must have changed his mind. “Okay,” Bado said, in the same voice he used to humor Genos when he was getting worked up over something. “I'll go find her and you wait here.” Bado turned and made a shooing motion at his siblings. “Go on! Stop bothering my friend! Be polite!”
There were some grumbles but they did as told, heading back toward house or cabins. As soon as he was – more-or-less – alone again Garou let out a slow breath and felt his shoulders relax.
Stupid. Stupid.
But for some reason Bado had let him get away with being a bad guest, and Garou wasn't going to question that. He sat down in the chariot, stretching his legs out on the grass and looking up at the sky.
Sunlight. How long had it been? Not quite six months? Since he was blinded by the very thing he was no longer able to see.
Well. No. If he was careful and took his chariot far away where no humans might come by and hurt themselves (then again, could the moon chariot hurt them? It wasn't as bright as the sun, and surely they'd be smart enough not to wander too close.), he could see the sun again as he had when he was mortal. But it wasn't the same. He was trapped, tied to this thing if he wanted to use one of his senses.
Then again... almost six months was a long time when you were under two decades of life. Garou had gotten used to it. He didn't need help getting around the underworld anymore. He knew how to be careful when he walked and sweep his cane to feel for tripping hazards. He could have lived a comfortable life – with his friends and his job and... Mumen – if he hadn't decided his original plan was too good not to give up.
He wasn't relying on anyone anymore. He didn't need anybody. Which meant it was up to him to keep the people he wanted around, around.
Garou sighed and leaned back, letting his legs slide further out until he was lying down. The warmth of the false sun could barely reach him down in the bottom of the chariot, like he was at the bottom of a well.
“Um... Hello?”
Garou kicked his legs and leapt to his feet, startling the young boy that had been trying to peer at him. He was showing off a little, the old man had taught him plenty after all, but he wasn't going to look like a complete weirdo in front of Bado's siblings.
Except... this wasn't one of Bado's siblings. This was Isamu, the new God of Smiths, accompanied by a little toy bird that perched on his shoulder. He'd said something about making them at the meeting, but Garou hadn't thought much of it at the time.
“It is you,” Isamu said, smiling. “I half-wondered if Bado had stolen your ride.”
“Is that something he's known to do?”
“No, but he does seem to like others to think he's more trouble than he really is.”
“That's true,” Garou admitted. For an actual child, this kid seemed to have a good grasp on psychology. “You're working here today?”
“Yes, I only recently became the god of smithing, so I didn't have a forge at home. I'd been here a few times before because my father encouraged me to meet other young gods.”
“Hm.”
From what Garou knew about godly powers and demesnes and all that, it would be easy as breathing to make a forge himself. If Isamu was coming here it was because he wanted to.
But he found an excuse to keep a distance from others, to keep himself safe. Just like Garou.
“Oi, Isamu!”
Bado was waving as he approached, a small girl in tow with the same ink-black hair as his.
“We were just talking about you!” he said, cheerily, once they were closer.
Garou punched his arm. “Don't say that!”
“What? It wasn't anything bad.” Bado scowled, rubbing his arm, and Garou noticed the little girl moved slightly behind him. Whoops.
“What was it?” Isamu asked.
“Just that you're the only reason Garou isn't the youngest of all of us.”
“Oh, right.” Isamu frowned. “I wish more gods would settle down and start having children. I'm tired of being reminded of that.”
“I guess nobody really wants to bring kids into a warzone,” Garou said, and then winced as he realized what he'd implied. “Uh, no offense to your parents, I mean.”
“None taken,” Isamu said. “The underworld was neutral ground during the war, after Sir Saitama took over. Father knew I wouldn't be in any danger.”
“The underworld?” Garou repeated. “Wait, do I know your dad?”
“You might, he gets around a lot.” Isamu smiled, fondly. “His name is Zed, he's a god of death and a psychopomp.”
“I'm not sure... What does he sound like?”
Isamu looked a little confused at that, but Bado answered for him. “Voice doesn't stand out, he just sounds like a kinda youngish dude, but he smokes a lot so you mighta smelled him.”
A shape rose in Garou's mind, and he nodded. “I think so. He was friendly.”
“He is!” Isamu agreed. He was positively beaming.
“You really like your dad, don't you?”
“Of course! He's my dad.”
Garou and Bado exchanged a glance, and Garou saw even the little girl's expression stiffen, but none of them said a word.
“What about your mom?” Garou asked, looking for a subject change. “Or, uh, other parent?”
“I don't know her,” Isamu said. He didn't seem concerned by it, leaning over to look at the chariot's wheels. “I think she's a muse. My father wanted to have a child so he made that happen, that's all. It was an arrangement.”
“Oh.” That made sense, although if it was Garou...
“Do you mind?” Isamu said, glancing up at him. “If I examine this? I won't touch if you'd prefer I didn't.”
“Go nuts,” Garou said. “Long as it still drives after.”
“I'm only looking for now. It's interesting how the style didn't change after you took over,” Isamu said.
“Garou likes the classics,” Bado answered for him. Then he socked Garou in the arm, as hard as Garou had done to him.
“Ow!”
“C'mon! Let's go talk to Zenko.” He gestured at the young girl.
“We can talk here,” Garou said.
“I'm not listening,” Isamu said, helpfully, voice muffled since he'd already crawled under the chariot.
“It's not private anyway,” Garou said. He looked at the girl and tried to smile in a non-threatening way. He didn't do that often and apparently he'd gotten rusty, because the girl took her brother's hand.
“We can talk here,” she said. “I don't mind.”
She was squeezing Bado's fingers, but she didn't look scared. More... stern.
“Ehhh, if nobody minds then I guess it's fine.” Bado flopped down into the grass, shaking feeling back into his hand.
“Okay!” Zenko sat primly, smoothing out her skirt and folding her hands on her knees. “Mr. Garou, what is it you wish to accomplish?”
“Uh...” What was this? A job interview? “Well I uh, I guess wolves are my patron animal? I like 'em, but I know better than to think you can just train 'em up like dogs.”
Zenko nodded. “Breeding them with dogs would be better for the longterm.”
“I dunno about that. I just think it would be fun to train one or two to listen to me and tolerate other people, so I can take 'em around.”
She tilted her head. “Why do you want to take them around? They'd be unhappy cooped up in your chariot all night.”
“I'm going back to the underworld eventually! Most of my friends are there, and I've got a job.”
“Wait, you're going back?” Bado said. “But you've got your own place now, and the moon to look after, and all that.”
“Eventually. Not for a while, just once I get the hang of not needing sleep.” And once he finally confessed his blindness. “You get it, don't you? You said so yourself. Your place,” Garou gestured around at the sunshine and dandelions, “is here. My place is down there, with everybody who took me in even after what happened.”
Bado scowled at him. “You sure you don't just feel like you gotta pay 'em back?”
“It's not like that,” Garou said. “Down there... It's...”
It was the first place that had ever really felt like a home. His birthplace hadn't. The army wasn't ever meant to, and neither was the old man's school, no matter how much he'd turned out to care. Once he was done teaching Garou he would have sent him out into the world again. Saitama's castle, the underworld, they'd given him a room and a job and everything he needed, and just accepted him as one of them.
“That's a bit more difficult,” Zenko spoke up. “Since the underworld is Lord Saitama's domain, the wolves won't be as influenced by you.”
“He's good with animals too though. At least, he is with big scary ones.”
“I still think it's best if you look into breeding wolfdogs. But if you're determined to train some wolves, I can help.”
“It's worth a try, right? And it ain't like some plain ol' mortal wolves can kill a god.”
“True,” Zenko admitted. She gave him a look that was oddly sly on such a young face.
Then again, she was probably older than he was.
“Going around into other gods' territory with a dangerous animal... you know the impression you'll be giving off, don't you?”
“Yes,” Garou said. “Yes I do.”
“Okay then!” All of a sudden she was all smiles. “I'll give you a rundown of the basics! And I'd love to visit sometime!”
“Oh, uh. Sure.”
“The basics” ended up being a talk of several hours. He might not need sleep, but taking in that much new information was still draining, and by the end of it Garou felt like he was ready to nod off. It was halfway through the day, and Bado had abandoned them at some point to see about lunch, leaving Garou alone with Zenko and Isamu still taking measurements of his moon chariot as if every millimeter was a revelation.
“You did well for a first day,” Zenko said. She retrieved something from her apron pocket and placed it in Garou's hand.
“Uh...” It was a piece of dried meat. “This is for me?”
“Yes, for being patient and a good boy.”
“To eat?”
“Yes.”
Garou shrugged, and popped it in his mouth.
“Be nice to him, miss Zenko,” Isamu said, peering over the lip of the chariot.
“I'm being nice!”
“He's not an animal you can train.”
“Humans are animals,” Zenko said, firmly.
“Well he seems a bit more clever than your brother, so I think he'll notice you're doing it.”
Garou spoke up around his mouthful, “That, and I'm sitting right here.”
“And he's sitting right there,” Isamu informed Zenko.
Isamu crawled over the lip of the chariot, flipping head over heels like any other ten-year-old kid having a good time.
“Everybody tries to do this to me too,” he said once he'd settled on the ground next to Garou, lower lip poking out for just a moment before he composed himself. “Teach me. As if I wasn't born for this.”
"Crafting, not uh. Everything else," Garou said. "They're probably trying to look out for you."
Isamu narrowed his eyes. “I'm trying to look out for you.”
“Sorry, sorry.”
“You're going to have to put up with the same things. Especially Amai.”
Garou felt his brow furrow. “What's the deal with that guy? They mentioned him at the meeting too.”
Isamu and Zenko glanced at each other.
“Well...” Isamu said. “I think he just wants to mentor me because crafting and smithing are related to art.”
“You do both know that he's the one who lost one of his domains right?” Zenko asked. “The thing that kicked off the war?”
“I was being discreet!” Isamu said. “I don't know for sure that that's the reason he gets so defensive about new gods.”
Garou groaned and buried his face in his hands.
“He's always been nice to me,” Isamu said. “Just gives a lot of advice I don't need.”
Garou grumbled to himself, but even he wasn't sure what he was trying to say.
“Did you not know?” Zenko asked, her tone soft once more.
“We knew y'all were fighting,” Garou muttered into his palms. “But there were a lot of stories, and almost nobody was answering prayers. By the time I was old enough to realize shit hadn't always been that way, I think no one was sure about the details.”
“I'm not sure about them either,” Zenko said. “I know that Amai lost the Beauty domain to an immortal human, and that led to fighting, and after the first god died everyone sort of split into factions.”
Garou raised his head. “Who was the first god that died?”
There was silence, except for voices in the distance and the faint buzzing of bees.
“I never asked,” Isamu said.
“Everyone just got really serious and sad one day...” Zenko frowned. “There was a big fight soon after, where a couple more died. Pluton and his wife, and then Harvest wanted to avenge her daughter, and then...” Zenko shook her head. “It just keeps going like that.”
“But you don't know who was first?”
“I guess not.”
Garou frowned to himself. Would it have been War? Or the Sea? But if a god so important died, wouldn't someone have stepped up to replace them sooner? It wasn't the Moon, was it?
“Amai would know,” Isamu said. “If you want to ask him.”
“I'm not sure if I do or not.”
The rest of the visit passed quietly. Bado brought a basket of food over for the four of them, Isamu took more measurements, Zenko produced a hedgehog from somewhere and let them all touch it.
It was nice. It was peaceful.
And when Garou started to feel like he couldn't hold back the urge to scream anymore, he made his excuses and scrambled into his chariot so fast he almost tripped on Isamu. This wasn't him, this wasn't his life. Garou didn't get things like this.
Nobody pointed it out, but Bado said goodbye in a gentler tone than he usually used. He knew something was up. Too bad Garou couldn't explain it to him if he tried.
Back home, alone with the wild animals and the false moon, Garou found himself falling into familiar patterns. The old man said he wanted him to start training again. And Garou hadn't exactly meant to stop, it just felt awkward when he couldn't see if he was going to smack into furniture.
Now he could. And training was something he'd always been good at. Something he could control. Soothing motions to calm him down and ground him.
Funny how a combat art could bring him peace.
Mumen had been less surprised than he thought he ought to be at Tatsumaki's proposal. It only made sense, after what happened and what Bado told him about later. The meetings had been chaos for so long - when anybody bothered to show up at all - that bringing someone in specifically to run them was a logical move.
The changes to the table were, however, a bit of a shock. The Wine throne was gone, crumbled, according to Bado. And the other thrones had been shuffled around, so that Death was next to the Sun (proving that Tatsumaki was observant after all) and Wisdom was between Art and War, where Bang would be able to control Amai and Kamikaze.
At the far end of the table, where Death had been, was a completely smooth throne a bit smaller than all the others. This would be where Mumen sat. Important, but neutral. Replaceable.
He shook his head as he sat down, and started going over his notes. He'd been early - he wanted everyone to see him here and looking professional to set a tone for the evening - but he wasn't the first to arrive. That was Amai, who gave Mumen a nod and then went back to glaring in the general direction of the Storm throne.
Or maybe the Moon. It was hard to tell.
The others came in ones and twos. All of them exclaimed something when they saw the new seating arrangement, looking over the thrones to see who was where.
Bado, for some reason, had been the one to drag Saitama along. Mumen had decided against it since he wasn't sure why Saitama and Genos were so tense around each other last time. If Saitama didn't feel up to coming, Mumen wouldn't make him.
But Bado had, and since Bado could see things the rest of them couldn't… Mumen trusted his judgment in this.
Nearly everyone had arrived now. It would be the first time in three decades – since even before Mumen became a god – that the whole table would be filled.
A familiar sound came from behind Mumen, chariot wheels on stone, and a silvery-blue light filled the open air temple. Mumen saw Tatsumaki look up, and her delicate face twist in a scowl.
“Do you have to park so close?”
“Yes,” Garou's voice said.
He looked different. Brighter. Broader. His hair stood up in points as jagged as lightning, and his eyes (Mumen had never seen them whole) were honey-gold.
Those eyes fell on Mumen, seeing him for the first time -
And looked away, scanning across the new seating just like everyone else's had.
He didn't recognize him. Garou didn't recognize him.
And why should he? Mumen had never appeared to him when he was mortal. Garou had touched his face, once, but he didn't have that much experience using his fingers to see. He knew that Mumen wore glasses, but he didn't know Mumen was the only god who still did. There was no reason for Garou to know Mumen the moment he saw him.
But it hurt. And Mumen hated himself for hurting. For expecting anything.
Garou sat in his throne, across from Genos who'd arrived with him. Genos was immediately distracted by Saitama's presence at his side, and Mumen made a note with his new pen - a gift from Isamu - to ask Genos full questions in case he wasn't paying attention to conversations.
“I did it!” Tatsumaki exclaimed, pumping her small fists. “My own council! Take that, Dad.”
Mumen cleared his throat. “Congratulations, my lady.”
He tried not to take pleasure in the fact that Garou's gaze had snapped to him the moment he spoke. Garou recognized his voice , at least.
“Will you call the meeting to order?” Mumen asked.
“Yes!” she said, gleefully. “Okay listen up, assholes!”
Everyone stopped their various whispers and arguments and focused on her.
“Gods, this is great,” she said, grinning. “A full table!”
“You actually gave us notice for once,” Saitama mumbled.
“I gave notice! Half of you just ignored it!” Tatsumaki gave a huff of air, a brief breeze ruffling Mumen's papers. “Okay, well, obviously you've all already figured it out, but this is how things are gonna be from now on. We've got Mumen as our moderator, some of the seating's been shuffled to accommodate that-”
“It's been more than shuffled,” Amai said, folding his arms and leaning back so he could glare past Bang's shoulders at Kamikaze.
“And we're going to meet once a month every month from now on. To talk about the state of things and coordinate.” She gestured at Garou. “On the night of the new moon, so everyone can be here just like this.”
“You're welcome,” Garou said.
“Shut your face.”
“For making it so convenient.”
“Shush. Shut.”
There was a faint grinding noise coming from Mumen's right, and minute flexing of Amai's jaw made him think it might be his teeth.
“Okay, Mumen,” Tatsumaki settled back in her chair, smiling like a smug cat. “You may begin.”
“Ah, thank you, my lady.”
All eyes were on him now, except for Garou's, which focused on the table as he kept his expression neutral. Mumen was plenty familiar with that look from him. It was only to be expected. He needed to stay professional.
“Since this is my first official meeting as mediator, and our first one on a schedule, we don't exactly have minutes to go over.” Mumen checked his notes, though he didn't really need to. “First thing is for everyone to report on prayers they've received and any trends they've noticed. My lady, we'll start with you, then Genos, and around the table like that.”
The reports were about the same as last time. Genos was a little more distracted, Saitama a little less so, and Mizuki had a lot to talk about now that people had learned she was the new Sea god.
Amai spoke little. Kamikaze even less. By the time they got to Garou he almost looked like he was drowsing.
He cleared his throat, and sat up a little straighter. “Nothin'.”
Everyone looked at him.
“What?” Tatsumaki said.
“Uh, nothing. I haven't gotten any prayers.”
Amai snorted, and Mumen wasn't the only one who shot him a glare.
Garou shrugged. “Well that's the reason none of you ever bothered filling the Moon throne, right? The moon isn't that important. Even the last priestess passed a few years ago.”
“How do you know that?” Tatsumaki asked.
“'Cuz I knew her, all right?” Garou snapped. He was getting defensive. It must be bothering him after all.
“Is that what this is?” Amai asked, resting his chin on his hand and looking down the table. “All to honor the memory of some dead human?”
“Don't be stupid,” Garou said, almost a growl. “I'm here to make a difference. Doesn't matter what I'm god of, it still got me in.”
Amai's eyes narrowed. “So you don't care about the moon at all.”
“Of course I care!”
“You said it didn't matter.”
“I woulda taken another job if someone gave it to me!”
“Like someone gave you this one?”
Garou's expression gave away nothing but anger. His eyes didn't flicker to Mumen, or Genos, or anyone else. “Nobody gave me dick. I mighta become immortal because of somebody else's weakness, but I took the moon for myself by myself.”
“It's a nice sentiment, but it's clearly untrue. You're fooling no one at this table but yourself.”
“What's it even matter? I'm here. It's done.”
Amai slammed his hands on the table, his face contorting in a way that looked almost painful. “It cannot stand!”
“Amai!” Tatsumaki snapped. “He was trained by one god, worked under two others-”
“No! My lady, I've voiced my objections at every turn, but this-” Amai pointed at Garou, “child is too far!”
“'Child?'” Garou repeated. “That's your problem? I'm not even the youngest person at this table.”
“A proper inheritance is different from a human youth stealing a seat that should belong to a god!”
“What proper inheritance?” Garou asked. “Just because he's a god? He wasn't any closer related to Vulcan than you are.”
“A god of crafting becoming the god of smiths is-”
“So he got it because he was best suited for it, right?”
Amai was clearly flustered. “Y- yes.”
“Well I was best suited for this,” Garou said, grinning. “'Cuz I actually wanted it.”
“And that's all?” Amai said with a scoff. “I wanted it too, I just couldn't take the time away.”
“So havin' free time makes me less qualified?”
“Merely knowing a few gods doesn't make you qualified at all! Being what you are-”
“And what am I?” Garou snapped. “Human? So're three other people at this table. Young? So's the kid! What makes me less qualified than Mizuki? Or Saitama?”
“They took their thrones by combat! I may not like it but I can respect it. And this one,” Amai gestured at Mumen, “inherited straight from his father. The domain chose its master.”
“The moon chose me!”
“The moon chose wrong!”
Lightning cracked, and thunder rolled. The clouds had been gathering for several minutes without Mumen giving them much attention, but now he could see a storm brewing all around them.
And at the far end of the table, he saw Tatsumaki glaring at him. Not at Garou or Amai. At him.
Right.
He cleared his throat, taking advantage of the momentary lull. “Excuse me, I'm sorry. Personal matters should be taken up outside of meeting time.”
“Personal-” Amai stammered for a second. “Person- Th- this affects all of us!”
“That doesn't matter right no-”
“It matters! Of course it matters!”
“Not right now, because right now we're moving on to old business.”
“Old business? And what the fuck is old business?”
“Things that were brought up but not resolved at past meetings.” Improvising wildly, Mumen said, “Your conflict with Garou would be new business, if anything. But given that he's already been accepted by the rest of the council I think you would need to make a formal proposal to open a debate.”
That definitely threw him. Mumen's calm, seemingly rational demeanor, not to mention giving him an option to be taken seriously...
“And I can do that?”
Mumen looked to Tatsumaki. The storm hadn't abated, but the flashes within the clouds had slowed down.
“I suppose,” she said.
“Fine.” Amai settled back in his throne, pacified for now. “I'll wait.”
Tatsumaki didn't look worried. Neither did Garou, for that matter. Genos and Bado were both opened scowling at Amai, and Mizuki and Saitama both had looks of confusion and concern. Mumen didn't dare look at Bang – he could feel the titan's hostility radiating from here, even with Kamikaze between them (who was leaning away and keeping his hand on his sword).
That was six council members, not counting Mumen who was neutral. Taking Garou out of the running as well, that only left three that Amai might be able to win over. If they put it to a vote, he'd lose.
Whether he'd realized that or not, Mumen couldn't tell. He cleared his throat again (he could use a gavel but Tatsumaki might frown on that), and once he had most of the attention back on him he flipped a page.
“So. Old business.”
The rest of the meeting was much quieter, and – unfortunately – short. None of the gods knew what to talk about, what they should decide on as a group or ask for help with. That would change with time, but for now Mumen agreed with Tatsumaki that the most important thing was to meet regularly.
And then came the final page of Mumen's notes, the other topics covered or tabled, all that remained was for him to ask for any new business.
He cleared his throat.
Amai jumped to his feet before Mumen could speak, pointing a finger at Garou without looking and sweeping his gaze around the table. He must know that no one was on his side. He had to.
“I would like to propose,” he said, “that the human who has joined our number through theft and deception, be barred from this council.”
Garou got to his feet too. “I didn't steal anything!”
“You stole the moon!”
“I am the moon!”
“And how did you become the moon?” Amai demanded. “You haven't said. I know Genos didn't give it to you, he's been too busy.”
Genos, brow furrowed, tried to say, “How do you know-”
“So how? How did you ascend to immortality? Who are you?”
Garou's mouth opened in a snarl, but no sound came out. His eyes flicked to Mumen, and then to Genos, and then he shook his head and laughed dryly.
“No, fuck it. I want you to know. I want you all to know.”
Mumen's stomach sank.
Garou spread his arms, grinning. “I'm nobody.”
After a second, Amai said, “What?”
“You asked who I am? I'm assuming you wanted to know if I'm related to a god, or some priesthood, or came from a religious household. Anything that'd make you approve of me? Well no. Not a thing. I'm nobody and I came from nothing.”
“Then why-”
“My mother was an indentured servant in my father's house. I'll let y'all figure out how that led to conception.”
Mumen wasn't the only one who sucked in a breath.
“I look enough like dear old dad that he couldn't just ignore me, so I got to go to school. But as soon as I was big enough – that's big enough, not old enough – he got me into the army. And that,” Garou pointed at Bang, “is how I met the old man.”
Bang nodded. “His sergeant was one of my students. Contacted me about a promising pupil.”
“Once I met him I realized you gods were just as petty and short-sighted as everyone I knew growing up. Even the moon priestess who took care of me one night only did it 'cuz she was bored.” Garou's fist thumped on the table. “I've been hungry. I've been blind. I've been hurt and neglected and I've slept on the street more than once. I know what the humans need because I'm human! I care. I might be young, and I might not know what the fuck I'm doing, but I care. I'm gonna do my gods-damned best with what I've got.”
Garou pointed at Amai, just as Amai had done to him earlier.
“If you got a problem with me we can talk about it like fucking adults.”
There were a few seconds of silence. Mumen, at least, had nothing to say. Maybe no one else did either, or maybe no one wanted to risk catching Amai's ire.
“Okay,” Amai said, as if the idea had just occurred to him. “Talking. We'll talk. In my domain, as soon as this meeting is over.”
Garou's finger drooped. “Uh, I didn't mean-”
“It was your idea, and we don't need to be getting in lady Tatsumaki's way when she has such a beautiful thunderstorm brewing.”
“We can go to my-”
“No no,” he smiled, teeth flawless and glimmering white. “I insist.”
When Garou didn't say anything, Mumen gathered up his papers and tapped them on the tabletop. Amai dropped smoothly back into his seat, and Garou sunk into his like a man drowning. Maybe Mumen could pull him aside before Amai got to him. Or Bado or Genos would have the sense to protect him. If Amai was a human Mumen wouldn't be worried, Garou could take care of himself! But he was a god, and one of the oldest gods, second generation like Tatsumaki. He knew what he was doing.
“Any other new business?” Mumen asked.
There was, actually. Mostly arranging to coordinate summer – only a week away – and a few promises of assistance to Mizuki. The old sea god had almost as many children as the old king, but most of them had died due to... misadventure. Mizuki had nothing but her instincts to back her up.
After that was over, Tatsumaki clapped her hands and stood on the seat of her throne. “Okay! Meeting adjourned! See you all in a month!”
That probably should have been Mumen's job as well, but they could work out the kinks later. He stood, intending to rush to Garou's side.
“Mumen,” Tatsumaki said. “With me. Now.”
“Um.” He glanced at Garou, who had Bado on one arm and Amai on the other.
“Now, Travelers. As in, this second.”
“Yes... my lady.”
He followed her out of the open part of the temple, through the discreet doors at the back. This was not unlike the setup where Mumen grew up, the temple his mother served his father in. Funny how Garou had never mentioned having that much in common.
He glanced back one last time, to see Amai pulling Garou toward his swan-driven carriage, and then the door shut behind him.
“What the hell was that?” Tatsumaki demanded.
“Um.”
“You completely let that get out of your control!”
“I, uh-”
“Mediators mediate!”
“I'm not sure that title is really indicative of what I'm-”
“You're in charge of the meetings!!”
“Then I should be in charge of you too,” Mumen said. It was a bit more firm than he'd intended, but he couldn't take it back. “My lady.”
She glared at him, sharp eyes in a small face. She could kill him in an instant, if she wanted, but as far as Mumen knew she hadn't killed anyone in the war at all.
Mumen took a slow breath. “I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have let them argue for so long without stepping in. I... it didn't even occur to me. I don't know why.”
That pacified her, a little. At least she looked less like she was about to electrocute him in the doorway.
“You're new to this. So's everyone. But you should have known Amai would throw a tantrum about the new gods.”
“I wasn't exactly warned.”
“Everybody knows he's got issues about that!”
“I- I suppose.” She wasn't wrong, he'd heard about it before. “I didn't want to seem like I was favoring Garou too much.”
Tatsumaki flapped her hand, waving aside his concerns. “Nobody likes Amai, nobody would care if you took sides.”
“I... I will keep that in mind.”
“You know Garou too, then? From before?”
He'd forgotten she didn't know. “Ah, yes, my lady. He's... I'm the reason he's here at all.” In more ways than one. “After the sun chariot blinded him, I brought him to Genos to be healed. That's how they met.”
“Oh, right, you fill in for Genos. I forgot that's why you came to the meeting before.” She tapped a finger on her chin. “You just run the meeting, you don't need to be unbiased. It's probably impossible to find an unbiased god anyway.”
“Probably,” Mumen agreed.
“So you're friends with Saitama, working with Genos, and know Garou.”
“Yes,” Mumen said, neglecting to mention just how intimately he 'knew' Garou.
“Considering the old council was exclusively people my father either fucked or fathered, I think we're doing all right.”
Mumen winced, then nodded. “Could be worse.”
He considered Garou, taken away to 'talk' to Amai, and how badly his own last talk with Garou had gone. The talk that led directly to the situation they were both in now.
And yet Garou hadn't outed him. No one had, no one suspected the theft of ambrosia at all.
Mumen took another breath.
“My lady, I have a confession to make.”