Work Text:
To a child, their parents are like god.
It only made sense after all, parents were the ones who decided bedtime, what to eat everyday, what you could and couldn’t do. To a child, the word of their parents was law. So really, why wouldn’t their parents assume the role of god in their minds? They told their children what was right and wrong, they said what one could and couldn’t do, they were the ones that laid the foundation of a child’s morals, a child’s attitude, a child’s life. They bathed, fed, and cared for a child. They had all the authority in a child’s life. So, really, to a child, their parents might as well have been a god.
But what if god wasn’t so benevolent? What if their god was nothing short of a cruel sadistic bastard?
For Shirube Sato, his god’s lips twitched downwards when he spoke, his god sighed when he asked questions too much, his god scolded him at the slightest sign of vulnerability.
Sadness, anger, fear, they were all handicaps. They were all weakness. They weren’t allowed, and that was a commandment to Shirube.
The moment Shirube had the ability to speak, his parents already figured that he was a genius. He figured out math concepts by himself, built things that were far too complicated for his age, the whole shebang. The moment his potential was revealed, it was exploited.
He acted his age, crying when he didn’t get something, when he didn’t get what he wanted, when he hurt just a little bit. But every time he was met with a harsh shove and a tiring scolding.
Humans adapt to their environment, when Shirube made the connection between crying and pain, he stopped, ‘adapting’ to what he was taught. He didn’t like pain, and pain happened when he cried. So if he didn’t cry, he wouldn’t feel pain. It was a basic concept, and it didn’t take much time for a genius like Shirube to grasp onto it.
Shirube sometimes wishes he just kept his mouth shut. If his parents never realized he was a genius, they never would’ve treated him in this way. He can only dream about his mother’s soft touch, warm and welcoming when he was an infant. But now, just starting school, he’s only met with cold, calculating eyes, mocking him. Telling him to be better.
“You’re a genius, Shibure. Don’t waste it.”
That was all Shirube was good for, he figured. The only time he saw his mother smile was when he came back to school with perfect grades, when he applied math concepts that he shouldn’t have known yet. She only gave him a tight smile when he did something smart.
To god, being smart was a virtue.
So Shirube pushed, making himself someone god would love. No one wanted to be hated, especially not by god. Why? Because they’re god, who can sentence you to eternal damnation if they aren’t satisfied. So even if something hurt, he couldn’t cry, he had to keep a poker face firmly in place. He couldn’t give in to temptation, or else he would sin. No one wanted to sin.
“Fuck—why can’t you just do this right?!” A voice scowled, exposing a young Shirube to words he really shouldn’t have known yet. He only stared at the ground, feigning remorse. That was what he did as a human, adapt. “What the hell are you doing Shirube?! You’re supposed to be a genius!”
Being yelled at by god wasn’t a particularly nice feeling.
So Shirube pushed himself harder, reaching for an unattainable goal. It was already noted he was well beyond his peers, and Shirube wasn’t blind to this. His classmates still cried when they didn’t get what they wanted, still had temper tantrums, and still struggled to do math that Shirube had already long mastered.
In his god’s eyes, all of his classmates should’ve been considered sinners.
When he finally encountered something he didn’t get, no matter how hard he tried to get it, he just couldn’t. In him, something broke. He was a genius, and geniuses understand everything they’re shown. Worn paper strewn about, diagrams with increasingly harsh lines scattered, eraser shavings covering the ground, he didn't get it.
It was a sin, and he had to repent.
He cried for the first time in years, feeling his skin turn purple and bruised, sore and disoriented. When he woke up, he hurt all over. He was always taught gods were meant to be loving and kind, so why wasn’t his? Was this normal? He doesn’t know if it was, it was all he had been taught, so to him, this was god. But he could tell he was an outlier, because the rest of the kids his age acted the same as each other, but different from him.
Shirube wasn’t an idiot, he was a genius for god’s sake. This wasn’t normal, was it?
He told someone. He told his teacher. His teacher didn’t believe him. Only telling him that kids like him have overactive imaginations and that he shouldn’t lie about things like that. He insisted he wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t believed. Shirube didn’t get it. He was being hurt, and he knew it wasn’t normal. He was being exploited, it was all he was good for, why didn’t his teacher believe what he was saying? He’s telling the truth.
Shirube found out a long time ago it’s pretty easy to tell when someone’s lying, when someone’s telling the truth. The way their eyes flicker slightly when they tell a lie, when they hesitate for the slightest of moments, when their hands twitch, there are always more than enough clues to tell when someone is lying. Seams and openings of which anyone could find in someone. Shirube wasn’t showing any of those openings, so why the hell didn’t his teacher believe him?
Man was created in god’s image.
That was why. If god was untrustworthy, willing to hurt their own creation, why would man be any different? Why would man be someone that he could trust? Of course, it was all so obvious. If god couldn’t be trusted, then who could?
Shirube learned a second time it was better to keep his mouth shut. No one could be trusted, and you couldn’t be betrayed if they didn’t know anything.
———
Shirube wants to change the wickedness of the world. He was a genius, surely he could do it. No one else was going to do it, so he was the one who would. A rebellion against man in the image of god. No one could be trusted, and Shirube wasn’t willing to live in a world like that. He could change the world, he’d do it even if it was the last thing he’d ever do, use cyberterrorism as a weapon to make man trustworthy, to overturn the gods of this world, the ones man had been created after. Give me liberty, or give me death, whatever the saying was.
Shirube scowled at the realization he didn’t have the funds he needed, but he caught wisps of a way to get money fast, his interest was piqued.
———
Zero trusted him.
Laid before him, a bent metal ring laid in place, shards of the remains of the box that had been covering the ring.
In a world of man sculpted after god, a man had trusted him. Zero was an outlier.
A smile crept up Shirube’s face, until he remembered that meant weakness. Keep a poker face firmly in place, or else he would sin. God would make him repent. Pain always came after feelings, so if he kept himself stoic, he wouldn’t get hurt.
He walked out of the room, Zero had won. Zero trusted him. Shirube couldn’t change the world anymore, not having gotten the prize money he needed,
But Shirube didn’t doubt that Zero could change the world.
At that moment, a new god entered Shirube’s mind.