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Heaven is boring.
Gojo Satoru had always found mortal books funny. The way they made it sound magical, beautiful, full blown majestic was beyond him. Every time he’d try to sneak a read or two, he’d always be a laughing mess, hitting his thigh as he sat on his throne. He couldn’t help but find it amusing that humans really do think highly of gods like them.
It was one of his favorite past times, mocking the way they write and the way they visualize the place. If Gojo Satoru was going to be honest, he doesn’t understand why mortals seem to romanticize heaven.
What’s so special about the place?
Sure, it was pretty, but it was the kind of pretty that you’ll get easily tired of staring at. Always seeing white fluffy clouds, golden gates, and flying angels. When you see something constantly every waking day, it becomes normal, stagnant, boring.
Gojo Satoru hated boring things.
It was also the reason why his other favorite past time was watching the world of mortals through his six eyes. Being the god of heaven and earth, the one who controls everything and anything, it was a useful tool to humor himself. He would always check what was happening, from the disgusting people who’d do anything because of greed—blame Sukuna for that—to those who would always do good deed—thank Yuuji for that. He’d always find something to pass his infinite time.
The god had seen everything yet; there was this specific mortal he’d always find himself watching.
Satoru hated boring things, yet he’d find humor in the way you walked across the street, the way you called a cab, the way you’d wave at familiar faces. He’d always mutter under his breath your order at your favorite cafe, smiling to himself when he recited perfectly every little thing you say, from the way you paused with each word, the way you’d stutter, and the way you’d smile awkwardly after finishing your order. Additionally, the white-haired god would unknowingly guide you by turning all of the green traffic lights red—especially if you were late for work.
You weren’t special. You were what he considered the antithesis of his hatred for boredom. You were a regular mortal. There wasn’t anything different about you. Other people would work like you; they would greet other humans just like the way you do; they would order that weird thing they called Spanish lattes like you.
Despite your repeated actions, he remained there, observing you with great curiosity through his six eyes.
Satoru was not even aware of your presence until your first ever prayer reached him. He remembered it clearly. It might already be eight long years for you, but to him, whose time is infinite—it felt like it was just yesterday. He couldn’t help the grin slowly crawling across his face as he looked back. It wasn’t really a happy first meeting, but it was still memorable.
The white-haired god was bored to his wits that day, enough that he was out of his throne to visit his friend, pesking the god of moon and logic, Suguru Getou. He was in the middle of annoying the god when the prayer reached him, the scroll being brought by one of Suguru Getou’s cherubin. Satoru would always receive orisons, enough that the clouds surrounding his throne were filled with thrones and offerings from mortals.
Frequently, Satoru would wager whether it was worthwhile to answer the prayer or if he ought to give it to a god who understood the circumstances better. It indicated this was the first time the person had sent a prayer to a god because he was able to receive the orison immediately. It was on the priority list, he assumed, important enough that a cherubin of another immortal sent it to him.
As he read the letter, he realized it was a prayer for health. These were prayers that he would often throw at Ieiri Shoko, the god of medicine and health. Sure, he could help them, but there were other gods there for a reason. He was about to dismiss the prayer when he caught a glimpse at the details below the scroll, making his brow rise in curiosity.
Your name was written there in bold letters, labeled as an atheist. The information in the scroll stated that you’ve never prayed, not even once, and it surprised Satoru. Oftentimes, people would label themselves as mortals who do not believe in gods but are also the same people who’d unconsciously pray or, in their atheistic words, "wish"—which he finds hypocritical.
But you, you never once hoped, wished, prayed, or begged a higher being. It was your first time visiting a shrine; you walked earnestly in the center of the empty room, your forehead flat on the wooden floors and your posture in proper form. He could feel your eagerness through the scroll.
You were praying for your mother's life.
She was your only family. Satoru learned through his six eyes that your mother was in the hospital with life support—the only thing pumping her heart and giving her breath. Death was written all over your mother’s body. No mortal doctor could keep your mother alive, not even the god Ieiri could help.
The grim reaper was already there, standing beside the hospital bed, ready to take your mother’s soul.
In any other case, Satoru would’ve burned the prayer. He never meddled with things about the soul. He had always believed that everything happens at the right time, the right place.
It wasn’t until he was pulled by Suguru did he realize what he did. They were suddenly standing in front of his oldest shrine, a few feet away from your mortal form, crying on the wooden floors. You were calling out Satoru’s name over and over again like it was your prayer. He listened as you begged, promising your life to him, telling him that you would devote yourself to him and him only.
For the first time since he was appointed a god, he handled everything on his own.
The god of logic was mortified; Suguru couldn’t understand what was running through his head, but Satoru did not care. The moment he saw you weeping, calling his name like he was the last string of hope you could hold onto, it felt like your soul connected to him. He healed your mother within a month. The mortal doctors said it was a miracle that she survived, and it was.
Since that day, you have become a loyal servant to his shrine.
During your days off, Satoru would find himself watching you clean his oldest shrine, wiping the wooden floors with wet rag, trimming the growing weeds that were around the place, and offering him a ton of sweets—he learned it was your favorite, and you had assumed he’d like it too. As you had said the day he heard your prayer, you were faithful.
Satoru would always feel warm, his large white wings flapping happily behind him when you gave your thanks for your food. He would always feel giddy when you thanked him for the smallest things. The white-haired god would always grin when you talk to him on random nights in your room before going to bed.
The god of heaven and earth found you boring but amusing both at the same time.
Just like clockwork, after checking other people through his eyes, he’d start watching you make your way towards your office. Every time he found you running late, he’d listen, whether you’d pray to him or not. The times that you were desperate, you would call his name and he would gladly oblige, enough that he was willing to slow down time just for you to attend your presentation on time.
Satoru was a good god towards you, much as you were a good servant to him. He would never deny you a prayer. When you prayed for a promotion, he gave it to you within the week; when you prayed for extra income to buy yourself a laptop, he gave it to you within a month; when you prayed—albeit jokingly—to him for the grand prize for the lottery, he was willing to give it to you—but to his dismay, he was caught by Suguru.
He was willing to give you everything and anything. That was what he was the most good at. Even your most complicated prayer, he easily provided it for you. If you prayed hard enough, Satoru Gojo wouldn’t refuse you anything. However, there was one particular prayer that he always found difficult to grant.
You had been praying for a romantic life for a few months now, and yet he couldn’t find himself giving you one.
Every time the prayer would come, he’d quickly burn the script without a glance. He would ignore it, focusing on your mortal form instead, snickering as you read a random joke on your phone. Satoru would always shred it to pieces when it randomly popped in front of him. He was annoyed beyond his immortal wits, enough that he scolded a cherubin of his own to stop giving him the scrolls.
Why was he being like this? He couldn’t help but think to himself, his fictitious heart thumping hard against his ribcage, his wings ragged, feathers askew than normal. The tips of his fluffy white hair were raised higher than usual, and his control of his power was off.
He was in the middle of tearing another prayer from you when the golden gates to his throne were thrown open, a fuming god stomping his way towards the middle of the room. As the cyan-haired god walked at a fast pace, the clouds surrounding the area started crackling, making Satoru frown.
“STOP WITH ALL THESE HURRICANES!” The god of thunder and lighting, Hajime Kashimo shouted, his voice booming loudly around the room. “I’m not even using my powers, and yet loads of prayer are coming towards me begging to stop the rain!”
“Satoru Gojo, I would highly appreciate it if you stopped meddling with my business.” the god of sun and prosperity, Nanami Kento soon followed, his eyes into a sharp glare as he stared at the white-haired god. “The crops are dying. People have been sending me prayers.”
“Hey, Gojo? There are a few prayers that shouldn’t be mine mixed with my scrolls. They were for you.” Last amongst the small crowd was the god of mercy and compassion, Itadori Yuuji, his pink hair poking out the large gates, his wings fluffing as if he’d flew too fast for them to keep up.
Confused with the odd group, Satoru Gojo blinked at them, the torn scroll falling down the cloudy floor. He asked what their purpose was, visiting him at such an awkward time unannounced. It was only when they started flooding him with complaints did he realize what was happening.
Too preoccupied about this little prayer of yours, he lost his control and meddled with other gods’ businesses. Gojo couldn’t believe himself. He had been sitting on his throne, controlling everything with a clear head for more than a million years. Satoru had seen the growth of mankind, the changes of nature, the evolution of animals, and yet he lost his composure because of what?
Some romantic prayer of his loyal believer?
“Satoru, why can’t you just give the mortal what she wants?” Suguru asked one random day when the god visited him on his throne. Satoru’s wings clamped tightly behind him as he stared at you through his six eyes, watching you sing out of tune as you cleaned your kitchen, ignoring the deity beside him.
“You’ve been granting all her prayers. This is way easier than when she prayed for the tsunami in Japan to end. She’s not even there; she just saw it in that little box the call TV.”
Satoru couldn’t help but frown, remembering the time he flew down the depths of hell just to convince the god of calamity and the underworld, Ryomen Sukuna, to stop his havoc. It was a bit difficult to convince the deity, but he was able to do so. He couldn’t help but smile when he saw you place a huge fruit basket for his shrine after that day.
“That’s the thing, Suguru~” The god whined, his lips into a small pout. “It's easy, but I just don't wanna do it.”
The god of moon and logic couldn’t help but frown. “Why not?”
Satoru let out a puff of breath, his wings flapping aggressively enough that he accidentally hit Suguru on the face—sorry, Suguru!—making the god wince. He wanted to speak, to voice out his thoughts, to tell his friend that every time he’d consider granting you your prayer, his chest would tighten, his palms would grow numb, and his eyes would sting. It wasn’t godly of him; he knew, he was well aware, and yet—
He just can’t do it.
“I read her last scroll,” Suguru continued casually, smart enough to realize Satoru wasn’t going to speak any moment now. The deity then chuckled, amused, as he called a cherubin to bring the prayer. “She even gave you details of who she wants to meet.”
“Hey, I was supposed to throw that away!” Satoru huffed, his bright blue eyes turning dark.
Ignoring his words, Suguru continued reading the prayer aloud, flapping his wings gracefully as he avoided Satoru’s lanky arms trying to reach for the scroll. “She wants someone kind, tall, smart, and funny.”
“This is too easy, Satoru. Just give it to her.” Satoru let out a grumble as he ignored Suguru’s words, the scroll finally in his grasp. “We’ve been having this conversation for weeks now. Believe me, Satoru, this is getting tiresome.”
The white-haired god only gave the deity in front of him a glare, burning the scroll without a single glance. “I told you a hundred times, I don’t feel like doing it.”
“And I’ve been asking you the same question since: why don’t you want to do it?”
It was there again. The needle-like sting across his skin, the shaking of his bones, the tightening of his shoulders. Should there be a reason not to give a mortal what they want? Can’t Suguru understand his sentiments? He is a god too! There are prayers that they just can’t grant.
“But usually there are reasons, Satoru. You know we have rules for that.” The raven-haired god sighed, placing a hand on Satoru’s shoulder. Gojo blinked, realizing that he just said everything out loud. “This will be a never-ending cycle of questions, Satoru.”
“I don’t know, okay!” Satoru finally snapped, his fictitious heart aching as he stepped back from his friend’s hold. “I’ve been granting prayers for millions of years and yet I can’t give this one simple thing to her!”
“She told me she’d devote herself to me! She promised me that she’ll be faithful to me; I’m her god.” Satoru paced back and forth, his wings flapping anxiously behind him as he continued, “What if that so called love she’s been asking me for will be the reason of her fallout? What if I grant her that prayer? I’ve seen mortals fall in love, Suguru. You’ve seen it too.”
“They’re willing to let go of everything for that—that—thing!” He gestured with his hands, his eyes blown wide as he caught his breath.
“What happens to me then, huh?”
Suguru blinked, surprised at the white-haired god’s sudden outburst. This was the first time since ancient history that he saw the mightiest deity of all lose his temper, his usual radiant blue eyes turning to a deep see of darkness and storm. He watched as Satoru breathed heavely, his hands shaking as he waited for an answer.
“Satoru, there’s millions of people who believe in us. In you.” Suguru tried to calm the god down, reaching for his shoulder’s once more. “I’m sure there will come a time someone as faithful as her will protect your shrine and devote themselves to yo—”
“I don’t want anyone! I only want her.”
Satoru barked, his heart thumping wildly enough that it was ringing against his ears. His voice boomed around the place, enough that his cherubins flew away from the tense atmosphere the two gods made. Gojo Satoru watched as Suguru gaped, his eyes wider than usual as he stared at him in disbelief. It took a few minutes of silence before the raven-haired god could speak, his voice uncharastically cracking.
“Satoru, do you perhaps have deep-rooted feelings for this mortal?”
Before Satoru could even process the question, there was a shy knock against the large gates of his place, making both their heads turn towards the source. Standing with his wings spread out was Yuuji Itadori, his ears as pink as his hair as he forced himself to make eye contact with the white-haired deity. “I think my timing is off.”
Trying to ease the tension, Suguru forced a smile for the young god, telling him to come in. The raven-haired deity was kind enough to ask Yuuji what his purpose was and immediately, the boy stuttered a small ‘oh yeah’, his wings flapping rather sheepishly behind him. Satoru and Suguru watched as the pink-haired being searched for something inside his robes.
“I’m really sorry for bothering you, but, uh, there’s a scroll for Gojo that got mixed with mine.” Yuuji smiled shyly, handing the scroll back to the white-haired god. “I know I shouldn’t meddle with anyone's business but I accidentally granted that prayer,” Yuuji admitted, biting his inner cheek as he watched Satoru swish the parchment in a carefree manner, his frown from earlier turning to a grin.
“No worries, Yuuji! We help people grant their prayers.” Satoru winced at his own words, the low grunt of Suguru reaching his ears—really, Satoru?—as he let out a chuckle. “What’s the prayer anyway? I think it’s simple enough for you to even grant it.”
“Well, she’s asking for a boyfriend!” Yuuji replied excitedly, his confidence coming back as he received nothing but kindness from the two older gods. There’s even a bullet point of what kind of guy she wants to date. It’s kinda cute and funny at the same time.”
Yuuji couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered the little bullet point you made, finding it amusing that you’re asking Gojo for that. He was still grinning from ear to ear when he noticed the atmosphere shift once more, the gods in front of him looking at each other with wide eyes. “Did I do something wrong?”
Satoru immediately pulled the scroll open after hearing the young god’s words, his eyes immediately zoning at your name written on it. It was a prayer you sent; at that time he was so preoccupied thinking about you that he did not notice he sorted the wrong parchment. Feeling himself shiver, Gojo Satoru threw the prayer to Suguru, his wings flapping rigorously as he teleported himself back to his oldest shrine.
It had been decades since he last shifted to his human form, but he did not mind. Without much thought about his appearance, Satoru used his divine powers to go to you, his heart ringing against his ears as he chanted over and over again for Yuuji’s prayer to be delayed. According to the scroll, today was the day it would be effective.
He will not let it happen.
Finding the place he was teleported familiar, Satoru made a beeline towards your favorite cafe, his eyes wildly looking around the quiet place as he searched your form. As soon as he caught your familiar hairstyle, he unconsciously walked towards you, his feet only coming to a halt when he heard you talk to the barista.
Satoru couldn’t help the blush that was raising across his cheek. Your voice was a lot more beautiful in person.
“Can I have a Spanish Latte, large? Oh, uh, can you please add more sugar to it? Two pumps to be—”
“Exact.” You finished Satoru’s words, turning your head towards him.
Gojo Satoru couldn’t help but bite his tongue inside his mouth, the unusual feeling of shyness flooding his body as you stared at him with wide eyes, completely in disbelief as he joined you, reciting your usual order out loud. He couldn’t help but wince at his own action—was that weird? Of course it was! This was the first time you had met your god without knowing, unlike him, who had been watching you for almost a decade.
“Your favorite drink?” He asked, unable to lie due to his status. “I want to try that too.”
He was waiting for you to get scared, frightened, or to slap him across the face, but you did nothing. Instead, you gave him a kind smile, nodding your head. “Sure, it’s sweeter than most would prefer, but its worth your try, I guess.”
You were kind enough to buy him a cup of his own; his face beat red after admitting he had no cash in his pockets. He was too busy thinking of you meeting a mortal Yuuji assigned that he didn’t think of anything else. Listening to your words, Satoru went and saved you both a seat, choosing your favorite spot in the cafe. He couldn’t help his grin when he saw your face lit up in glee, realizing he chose your personal space.
As if the two of you knew each other for a long time, the both of you spent your time in small talk, the god immediately throwing topics that he knew you were fond of. He was quickwitted when it came to you—the things that make you happy, sad, frustrated, even flustered. Satoru knew you like you were the back of his palm.
“Oh, the coffee is getting cold. You should try it while it's hot!” You suddenly cut your own story off, encouraging him to drink his latte—it was about a street dog you saw crossing the road that was about to get hit by a car; by some miracle, it was saved. Satoru already knew, of course. After all, he had to fly to Megumi to order his divine dogs to save the stray.
The moment he took a sip, Satoru’s eyes lit up. He couldn’t help himself but praise the drink, telling you that it had the perfect amount of sweetness. The white-haired god immediately felt giddy, telling you he’d offer the drink to his friend—the mortals and their inventions! Suguru would be thrilled; it had been centuries since they shared a coffee—making you grin.
“I’m glad you liked it—” You dragged, your soft smile making Satoru’s heartbeat stutter. A few seconds passed, his eyes staring at yours that were shining against the soft ray of sunlight passing through the glass windows of the cafe. It was only when you cleared your throat that Satoru realized what you meant, his own grin escaping his lips as he introduced himself.
“Satoru. My name is Satoru.”
Immediately, your eyes were wide as saucers. Satoru watched as your mouth opened and closed, like a small fish trying to breathe air above the pond. A snicker escaped his breath as he observed, his sky-like orbs glinting in amusement. He wasn’t sure why you were so shocked with his name, but he learned about it quickly when your soul connected to him, your voice echoing inside his head as you talked to your god Satoru.
“Good god! Did you finally hear my prayer? Is this your sign?” Satoru was more than confused; why were you praying right in front of him? As far as he was concerned, mortals seem to forget deities when they are caught up in their own little world.
“Is there something wrong?” Satoru voiced out loud, concern lacing his tone as he watched you shake your head no, your cheeks turning warm as you apologized for your reverie.
“You’re named after a deity?” The white-haired god listened as you continued, amused that you were acting as if your prayer mid-conversation never happened, sipping on your already cold latter. Nodding his head, he noticed your gaze soften, your shoulders growing limp.
Is this your gift for my never-ending devotion?—Your voice echoed in his head once more, making him frown. What were you talking about? Satoru never gifted you anything. He hasn’t been answering your prayers for a long time now. Did you hit your head and think you asked him for something?
He never answered your prayer for your love life.
But Yuuji did.
Suddenly, something inside Satoru clicked, his eyes growing wide as he tried to remember your prayer that got mixed with Yuuji’s scroll. Below your prayer was a list of qualities you wanted your other half to have. You wanted someone who was kind, tall, smart, and funny. It was always on your list, but there was something different about your prayer that got to Yuuji’s.
He was too caught up in the moment to realize what you added. How could Satoru gloss past that? The prayer you sent was new. It had an additional request. Finally, he remembered it clearly.
“My god, Satoru, I pray that whoever will be my other half is someone who is created in the image and likeness of you.”