The Shy God Summons Goddesses
Chapter 1: An Accidental Summoning
Akira Miyazaki stared at the glowing circle on his bedroom floor, heart racing as panic seized him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He'd only been practicing calligraphy, replicating an intricate design from an old book he'd found in his grandfather's study. The ink had seemed to move of its own accord, flowing across the paper and somehow transferring itself to the floor in a perfect circle of arcane symbols.
"No, no, no," he whispered, backing away as the circle pulsed with brilliant blue light. His slender fingers trembled as he pushed a strand of midnight hair from his face. "I didn't mean to—"
The light exploded upward, and Akira shielded his eyes, stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. When he lowered his arm, his breath caught in his throat.
Standing before him was a woman unlike any he'd ever seen. Tall and regal, with platinum blonde hair that seemed to shimmer with starlight. She wore armor that gleamed with an otherworldly sheen, and in her hand, she held a spear that radiated pure power.
Her piercing golden eyes found his, and something like shock registered on her perfect features.
"I am Servant Lancer, the Lion King, Goddess Rhongomyniad," she announced, her voice resonating with authority. Then she paused, studying him with growing intensity. "You... what manner of being are you, Master?"
Akira felt his face heating. He always hated when people stared at him. It had been that way his entire life—the uncomfortable attention his appearance drew. He didn't think he looked special, just... different somehow. But people always stared, always whispered, and it had driven him to become increasingly withdrawn.
"I-I'm just Akira," he stammered, bowing deeply from habit. "Akira Miyazaki. I'm so sorry for disturbing you. I didn't mean to summon anyone. It was an accident."
When he straightened, the goddess was kneeling before him, head bowed.
"The signs cannot be mistaken," she said reverently. "The radiance that surrounds you... you are no ordinary human. Are you perhaps a sealed deity? The incarnation of the Root itself?"
"What? No!" Akira protested, waving his hands frantically. "I'm a college student. I study art history. I live alone. I'm nobody special!"
Rhongomyniad raised her head, her expression serious. "Your modesty only confirms your greatness. I pledge my lance to your service... my lord."
Akira's mouth opened and closed several times. "Please don't kneel. And please don't call me lord. Just Akira is fine. Actually, um..." He fidgeted with the hem of his sweater. "Your armor is really beautiful. The craftsmanship is incredible."
The goddess blinked, seemingly taken aback by the compliment. For a moment, something almost like a blush touched her regal features before she composed herself.
"Your words honor me," she said, rising to her feet. "Though I must inquire—why have you summoned me to this Holy Grail War?"
"Holy... what?"
Before he could ask further, the room temperature suddenly spiked. The window burst open as if struck by an invisible force, and floating through it came another figure—a woman with long dark hair and striking crimson eyes, dressed in elegant red and black attire that left little to the imagination.
"I felt a power surge unlike any—" The newcomer stopped mid-sentence, her eyes widening as they fell on Akira. "By the heavens above..."
Rhongomyniad immediately stepped between them, lance raised. "Ishtar," she growled. "The Goddess of Venus has no place here."
"I go where I please," Ishtar replied, but her attention remained fixed on Akira, who was trying his best to become one with the wallpaper. "And what treasure have you found? Or rather..." Her expression grew contemplative. "What treasure has found you?"
Akira managed a small, awkward wave. "H-hello. I'm Akira. Your... um... your jewelry is very pretty. The lapis lazuli really complements your eyes."
Ishtar's haughty expression melted into one of genuine surprise, then delight. She floated closer, ignoring Rhongomyniad's warning growl.
"Such a discerning eye," she purred. "You recognize fine beauty when you see it." Then, to Rhongomyniad: "Step aside, Lion King. This being clearly requires proper worship, not just protection."
"I require no worship!" Akira squeaked, his face burning hotter. "Actually, would either of you like some tea? I should make tea. That's what you do when guests arrive, right?"
Both goddesses stared at him in bewilderment.
"He offers to serve us?" Ishtar whispered.
"His humility knows no bounds," Rhongomyniad replied solemnly.
As Akira fled to the tiny kitchen of his apartment, he heard a third crash from his bedroom, followed by voices raised in challenge and surprise. By the time he returned with a hastily assembled tea tray, two more divine beings had joined the first pair.
A statuesque woman with piercing red eyes and purple hair stood with her arms crossed, a deadly-looking spear slung across her back. Beside her was a regal figure in dark armor with pale blonde hair, whose aura of menace made the others seem almost friendly by comparison.
"Scáthach and Morgan," Rhongomyniad said by way of introduction, her tone strained. "It seems your summoning has called forth more than just myself."
"I sensed a disturbance in the fabric of fate," Scáthach stated, her intense gaze fixed on Akira, who nearly dropped the tea tray under her scrutiny.
"As did I," Morgan added, her voice cool and measured. "Though I did not expect to find... you." She tilted her head, studying him. "What are you, boy?"
"I'm, uh, a Taurus?" Akira offered weakly, setting down the tray with trembling hands. "Tea's ready if anyone wants some."
All four goddesses exchanged glances.
"He tests us," Morgan concluded.
"Or he truly does not know his own nature," Scáthach countered.
Ishtar drifted closer to Akira, circling him like a predator. "Such beauty cannot be mortal. Look at him—perfect symmetry, eyes like the deepest oceans, skin like moonlight on fresh snow..."
"Please stop," Akira whispered, mortified. He'd heard such things all his life, and they never failed to make him want to hide. "I'm just me. Nothing special."
He busied himself pouring tea, avoiding their gazes. What had he gotten himself into? And how was he going to explain to his landlord why his small apartment now housed four mythological beings, all of whom seemed convinced he was some kind of deity?
"Your tea is excellent," Rhongomyniad commented after taking a sip, breaking the tense silence.
"Thank you," Akira replied, genuinely pleased. "It's a special blend my grandmother taught me to make."
"He has domestic skills as well," Scáthach observed, accepting her cup with graceful hands. "Fascinating."
"Um, if you don't mind me asking," Akira ventured, finding a tiny spark of courage, "what exactly is a Holy Grail War? And why do you all think I'm... something I'm not?"
The four goddesses exchanged glances again, and it was Morgan who spoke.
"The Holy Grail War is a battle between seven Masters and their summoned Servants—heroes and deities from across time and space. The victor claims the Holy Grail, an artifact of immense power."
"But you," Scáthach continued, "have somehow summoned not one, but four divine Servants simultaneously, without command seals, without a proper ritual. Such a feat is..." She paused, searching for the word.
"Impossible," Rhongomyniad finished. "Unless the summoner possesses power beyond mortal comprehension."
Akira looked down at his hands. They seemed normal enough to him—artist's hands, with long fingers stained with ink and paint. Nothing godlike about them.
"I think there's been a mistake," he said softly. "I'm sorry to disappoint you all."
"You could never disappoint me," Ishtar declared, suddenly very close beside him. "Your modesty only makes you more... captivating."
Akira's blush returned full force. "Th-thank you? Your, um, your hair is very beautiful. Like a starless night sky."
Now it was Ishtar's turn to look flustered, a sight that clearly surprised the other goddesses.
"He compliments so earnestly," Morgan observed, her cold expression warming by the slightest degree. "Without expectation or guile."
"A rare quality indeed," Scáthach agreed, sipping her tea thoughtfully.
Outside, thunder rumbled, and Akira glanced worriedly at the window. "It sounds like a storm's coming. Do you all... need somewhere to stay?"
Four pairs of eyes focused on him with varying degrees of intensity.
"We are bound to you now," Rhongomyniad stated. "Where you go, we follow."
"Oh," Akira said faintly. "Well, I only have the one bedroom, but I can take the couch—"
"Unthinkable!" all four goddesses declared in unison.
As rain began to patter against the windows, Akira Miyazaki—art history student, social recluse, and apparently accidental Master in a magical war he knew nothing about—wondered if he would ever understand what was happening.
One thing was certain: his quiet, solitary life had just become infinitely more complicated.
Chapter 2: Divine Misconceptions
Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow across Akira's living room. He hadn't slept well on the couch—not because it was uncomfortable, but because he'd been acutely aware of the four divine beings occupying his bedroom. They had insisted he take the bed, but he'd been even more insistent that they should have it, his ingrained politeness overriding any sense of self-preservation.
He yawned and sat up, rubbing his eyes—then froze. Sitting in perfect seiza position on the floor beside the couch was Scáthach, her crimson eyes watching him intently.
"Good morning," she said calmly, as if finding her there wasn't the least bit startling.
"H-have you been there all night?" Akira asked, pulling the blanket up to his chin despite being fully clothed.
"I have. Someone needed to stand guard while you slept."
"Guard? Against what?"
Scáthach's expression remained serious. "The other Masters will sense your power soon, if they haven't already. They will come for you."
Akira groaned, flopping back onto the couch. "I don't have any power. I'm just—"
"A being of immense beauty and untapped potential," came Ishtar's voice as she floated into the room, looking irritatingly refreshed for so early in the morning. "We've been discussing you all night."
"That's... concerning," Akira muttered.
"There are several possibilities," Rhongomyniad said, entering from the kitchen with what appeared to be... was she making breakfast? The goddess of the sacred lance was cooking in his tiny kitchen? "You may be a sealed deity, with your memories and powers locked away for protection."
"Or," Morgan added, materializing from the shadows in a way that made Akira yelp, "you could be an aspect of the Root itself, manifested in human form to observe this realm."
"Or perhaps," Scáthach continued, "you are the descendant of a forgotten pantheon, carrying divine ichor in your veins without knowing your heritage."
Akira sat up properly, running a hand through his tousled hair. "I have birth records. School photos. A family registry. I'm just a normal Japanese person."
"Records can be falsified," Morgan dismissed with a wave of her hand. "Memories altered. Perceptions clouded."
"Your pancakes are ready," Rhongomyniad announced, carrying a plate stacked with surprisingly perfect-looking pancakes. She set them on the coffee table before Akira with something approaching reverence.
"You... made me breakfast?" Akira blinked in confusion.
"It is the least I can do to serve one such as you," the goddess replied solemnly.
"I should be the one cooking for guests," he protested, but his stomach growled betrayingly.
Ishtar drifted closer, a mischievous smile playing on her lips. "Eat, beautiful one. You'll need your strength for what's to come."
Reluctantly, Akira took a bite—and his eyes widened in surprise. "These are amazing. How did you learn to cook?"
"I observed your modern cooking devices and adapted quickly," Rhongomyniad stated matter-of-factly. "Divine beings are nothing if not adaptable."
As he ate, Akira couldn't help noticing how all four goddesses watched his every move with fascination, as if he were performing some rare and exotic ritual instead of just eating pancakes.
"So," he said between bites, trying to sound casual, "about this Holy Grail War. What exactly am I supposed to do?"
"Traditionally," Scáthach explained, "Masters command their Servants in battle against other Master-Servant pairs until only one remains."
"Battle?" Akira nearly choked on his food. "I'm not fighting anyone!"
"Of course not," Morgan said smoothly. "You would direct us in battle while we protect you."
"But I don't want anyone fighting because of me either," he insisted. "There has to be another way."
The goddesses exchanged those meaningful glances again, the kind that made Akira feel like they were having an entire conversation he wasn't privy to.
"Your compassion only confirms our suspicions," Rhongomyniad finally said. "No ordinary Master would hesitate to use Servants as weapons."
Akira sighed, setting down his fork. "Look, I'm genuinely flattered that you all think I'm... special. But I've lived twenty-two years as a completely ordinary person. Well, mostly ordinary." He self-consciously touched his face, thinking of all the unwanted attention his appearance had always brought him.
"Tell us about yourself," Ishtar prompted, settling onto the couch beside him, close enough that he could feel the supernatural warmth radiating from her. "Perhaps there are clues in your history."
"There's really not much to tell," he said with a shrug. "My parents died when I was young. I was raised by my grandparents in a small town. I was always... different, I guess. People stared. Made comments. It made me uncomfortable, so I kept to myself. Studied hard. Got a scholarship to university. Now I'm here."
"Different how?" Scáthach pressed, leaning forward slightly.
Akira fidgeted with the blanket. "Just... my appearance. People always said I was..." He couldn't bring himself to repeat the embarrassing compliments and observations that had followed him throughout his life.
"Breathtaking?" Ishtar supplied, earning a glare from Rhongomyniad. "What? It's merely factual."
"I'm not comfortable discussing it," Akira said quietly.
To his surprise, it was Morgan who seemed to understand first. "Your beauty has been a burden, not a blessing," she observed, her tone lacking its usual edge. "It has isolated you."
Akira nodded, relief flooding through him that someone finally got it. "Exactly. People either kept their distance because they were intimidated, or they got too close for the wrong reasons. So I just... kept to myself."
"And yet you show us nothing but kindness and consideration," Rhongomyniad noted. "Despite your isolation."
"My grandmother always said that how you treat others shows who you truly are," Akira replied with a small smile. "She was a wise woman."
Just then, a sharp crack of energy made all four goddesses snap to attention, their relaxed demeanors instantly replaced with battle-ready tension.
"Someone approaches," Scáthach warned, her spear materializing in her hand. "Another Servant."
Akira's doorbell rang, the mundane sound absurdly normal in the tense atmosphere.
"Stay here," Rhongomyniad commanded, moving toward the door with Lance in hand.
"Wait!" Akira called, scrambling up from the couch. "You can't just answer my door with a magical spear! What if it's the landlord? Or a delivery person?"
The goddesses looked at him as if he'd suggested something entirely preposterous.
"Your safety is paramount," Morgan stated, dark energy crackling around her fingertips.
"Please," Akira begged. "Let me check first. If it's something dangerous, I promise I'll let you handle it."
After a moment of hesitation, Rhongomyniad nodded, though her lance remained at the ready.
Heart pounding, Akira approached his apartment door and peered through the peephole. On the other side stood a stunningly beautiful woman with long purple hair and a blindfold covering her eyes. Despite this, she seemed to look directly at the peephole, as if seeing through it.
"I know you're there," she called, her voice melodious yet powerful. "I've come to meet the one who disturbs the balance of this War."
Akira glanced back at his four divine protectors, who all nodded grimly, prepared for battle.
With a deep breath, he opened the door just a crack. "Can I help you?"
The woman's head tilted slightly. "You are... unexpected," she said after a moment. "I am Servant Rider, Medusa. May I enter? I come alone and in peace."
"Um..." Akira hesitated, looking back again.
"Allow her entry," Scáthach advised. "If she wished you harm, she would not announce herself so openly."
Reluctantly, Akira opened the door wider, revealing the four battle-ready goddesses behind him. Medusa showed no surprise at the sight.
"So the rumors are true," she said, stepping inside with fluid grace. "You've summoned multiple Servants of the highest caliber." Her head turned toward Akira, and despite her blindfold, he had the distinct impression she was studying him intently. "But you are the greatest mystery of all."
"So I've been told," Akira said with a nervous laugh. "Would you like some pancakes? There's plenty left."
Medusa's perfect lips curved into a small smile. "Your offer of hospitality is... charming. But I've come with information you may find valuable."
The tension in the room thickened as the other goddesses moved closer to Akira, forming a protective semicircle around him.
"Speak, then," Rhongomyniad commanded.
Medusa turned her blindfolded gaze to each of them before returning to Akira. "The other Masters are gathering. They've sensed the disturbance in the Grail War's pattern. Some believe a new player has entered with unprecedented power. Others fear the system itself has been corrupted." She paused. "All are coming for you."
Akira's legs suddenly felt weak, and he sank onto the nearest chair. "But I don't want any part of this war. I don't even know how I summoned anyone!"
"Intention matters little in matters of fate," Medusa replied gently. "You have become the central focus of this War, whether you wished it or not."
"There must be a way to undo it," Akira insisted, looking desperately between the divine beings. "Can't I just... unsummon everyone? Send you all back?"
"You wish to be rid of us?" Ishtar asked, sounding genuinely hurt.
"No! I mean, you're all amazing and I'm honored to meet you, but this is clearly a mistake, and I don't want anyone fighting over me or getting hurt because of me."
Medusa approached him slowly, kneeling before his chair in a gesture reminiscent of Rhongomyniad's first greeting. "Your compassion confirms what I sensed from afar. You are no ordinary Master."
"Not you too," Akira groaned, covering his face with his hands.
"I offer you my service as well," Medusa continued, ignoring his protest. "My eyes and my chains belong to you."
"That's very kind, but—"
A thunderous explosion outside cut him off, rattling the windows of his small apartment. All five divine beings moved at once, surrounding Akira in a protective formation.
"They've found us sooner than expected," Morgan hissed, dark energy swirling around her.
Through the window, Akira could see figures gathering in the street below—ordinary-looking people accompanied by extraordinary beings that could only be more Servants.
"What do we do?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"We fight," Scáthach answered simply.
"No!" Akira's response was immediate and forceful, surprising even himself. "No fighting. Not yet. Let me try talking to them first."
Five pairs of eyes stared at him in varying degrees of disbelief.
"Your courage is admirable," Rhongomyniad said carefully, "but these are Mages trained in the art of battle, accompanied by heroes and legends summoned for war."
"And I'm supposedly some kind of deity, right?" Akira countered, summoning a confidence he didn't entirely feel. "So they should at least hear me out."
After a moment of silence, Scáthach nodded. "Very well. But we accompany you."
"I wouldn't have it any other way," Akira replied with a grateful smile.
As he moved toward the door, Ishtar floated to his side. "Your robe," she said softly, materializing a flowing garment of midnight blue, embroidered with silver stars. "If you're to face them, at least look the part."
For once, Akira didn't protest. If he was going to convince a group of mages and mythological beings that they didn't need to fight, perhaps a little divine assistance with his appearance wouldn't hurt.
He slipped the robe over his t-shirt and sweatpants, instantly feeling its supernatural weight and warmth. It seemed to shimmer slightly as he moved, catching the light in ways that defied physical explanation.
"Ready?" Medusa asked, offering her arm in a surprisingly chivalrous gesture.
Akira took a deep breath and nodded, accepting her support. "As I'll ever be."
Together with his five divine protectors, he stepped out to face whatever awaited him in this Holy Grail War he never asked to join—a war where, somehow, he had become the prize rather than a participant.
Chapter 3: The Reluctant Deity
The morning air was crisp and charged with magical energy as Akira stepped outside his apartment building, flanked by his divine guardians. Five Servants—each a goddess or legendary being in her own right—formed a protective formation around him that would have been comical in its extravagance if not for the deadly seriousness of the situation.
Waiting in the street were three figures, each accompanied by their own Servant. They stood at a respectful distance, but their postures were tense, ready for conflict.
"That's the Master?" one of them murmured, a young woman with red hair tied in a practical ponytail. "He doesn't look like much."
"Appearances deceive, Tohsaka," replied the tall blond man beside her, his aristocratic features set in a calculating expression. "Can you not sense the power emanating from him?"
Akira swallowed hard, acutely aware of how he must look—a slender young man in a magical robe thrown over pajamas, surrounded by legendary beings as if he were some kind of important figure. The robe Ishtar had given him felt suddenly heavy on his shoulders.
"Hello," he called, striving to keep his voice steady. "I think there's been a misunderstanding."
The third Master, a stern-looking older man, stepped forward. "You have disrupted the pattern of the Holy Grail War by summoning multiple Servants. The natural order has been compromised."
"I'm sorry about that," Akira replied, bowing slightly from habit. "It was an accident. I was practicing calligraphy and somehow activated a summoning circle."
"Impossible," the red-haired woman—Tohsaka—scoffed. "No one accidentally summons one Servant, let alone five."
"And yet, here we are," Morgan interjected coolly. "Perhaps you should consider that your understanding of 'impossible' may be limited."
Tension crackled in the air like electricity before a storm. Akira could feel the situation balancing on a knife's edge.
"Please," he said, taking a step forward despite Rhongomyniad's warning hand on his shoulder. "I don't want to fight. I have no interest in this Holy Grail or whatever prize comes with winning. There must be a way to resolve this peacefully."
The blond man's eyebrows rose in apparent amusement. "Such naivety. The Holy Grail War doesn't end because one participant wishes it so."
"I'm not even a proper participant," Akira insisted. "I don't have command seals, I don't know magic, and until yesterday, I didn't know any of this existed."
This gave the Masters pause. They exchanged glances, clearly reassessing the situation.
"No command seals?" the older man questioned, his tone skeptical. "Show your hands."
Akira held out both hands, turning them to display his unmarked skin. The three Masters leaned forward to inspect them, their expressions shifting from suspicion to confusion.
"This is unprecedented," Tohsaka muttered. "How are you maintaining five Servants without command seals? The mana drain alone should be killing you."
"I don't know," Akira admitted. "They just... showed up when I accidentally drew that circle. I haven't done anything to maintain them."
The blond man's Servant—a regal woman in ancient armor who had remained silent until now—suddenly spoke. "It is because he is not giving them mana. They are drawing power directly from another source."
All eyes turned to Akira again, the scrutiny making him want to shrink into his magical robe and disappear.
"What are you?" the older man asked bluntly.
Before Akira could answer with his usual protests of normalcy, Scáthach placed a protective hand on his shoulder. "He is under our protection. That is all you need to know."
"The War continues with or without your participation," Tohsaka stated firmly. "But having five Servants roaming freely upsets the balance. If you truly wish for peace, you should release them."
"Release them?" Akira echoed. He turned to look at his divine guardians. "Is that possible? Would that help?"
"We are bound to you now," Rhongomyniad replied, her golden eyes holding his. "But yes, you could theoretically release us from service if that was your desire."
Something in her tone made Akira pause. He looked at each of his Servants in turn—Rhongomyniad's dignified solemnity, Ishtar's barely concealed dismay at the suggestion, Scáthach's stoic acceptance, Morgan's cool assessment, and Medusa's unreadable expression behind her blindfold. In just one day, he had come to care for these extraordinary beings, despite the absurdity of their situation.
"And if I did release you," he asked carefully, "what would happen to you?"
"We would return to the Throne of Heroes," Medusa explained. "Until summoned again by another Master."
"To fight in this war?" The idea troubled Akira deeply.
"Yes," Morgan confirmed. "That is our purpose in this realm."
Akira fell silent, considering. These beings—these goddesses—had protected him, cooked for him, watched over him while he slept. The thought of sending them away to fight in a magical war under potentially less compassionate Masters didn't sit right with him.
"No," he finally said, straightening his shoulders. "I won't release you just to have you summoned by someone else who might treat you as weapons rather than the remarkable beings you are."
The three Masters stared at him in varying degrees of surprise and frustration.
"Then you are declaring yourself a participant in this War after all," the blond man concluded, a cold smile forming on his lips.
"I'm declaring that I care about what happens to them," Akira corrected, finding courage he didn't know he possessed. "If that makes me a participant, then so be it. But I still have no interest in fighting anyone."
A tense silence followed his declaration. It was the older man who finally broke it.
"Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald," he introduced himself with formal stiffness. "As representative of the Mage's Association, I propose a temporary truce while we consult with the Church mediator about this... irregular situation."
"A truce sounds wonderful," Akira agreed, relief evident in his voice. "Thank you."
Tohsaka and the blond man—who introduced himself with obvious reluctance as Gilroy Einzbern, a name that caused Ishtar to make a small noise of recognition—agreed to the truce as well, though neither looked particularly happy about it.
"Three days," Kayneth stipulated. "We will reconvene here after consulting with the mediator."
With terse nods, the three Masters departed, their Servants following after giving Akira and his divine guardians long, evaluating looks.
Once they were out of sight, Akira's knees finally gave way. He would have collapsed if not for Medusa's quick reflexes, supporting him with surprising strength for her slender frame.
"You stood your ground against three of the most powerful mages in this War," she observed, something like admiration in her voice.
"I was terrified," Akira admitted with a shaky laugh.
"Yet you spoke with authority and compassion," Rhongomyniad noted. "As befits your nature."
Akira was too exhausted to protest the continued implications of his supposed divinity. "Can we go back inside? I think I need to sit down."
As they returned to his apartment, Ishtar floated close beside him. "You chose to keep us," she said softly, a question in her tone.
"Of course I did," Akira replied, surprised she would doubt it. "You're all amazing. I couldn't just send you away."
"Even knowing it makes you a target in this War?"
Akira considered this as he sank gratefully onto his couch. "I guess I'll just have to figure out how to end the War without anyone getting hurt."
The five goddesses exchanged those meaningful glances again.
"What?" Akira asked.
"Such goals," Morgan said slowly, "are typically beyond mortal capability."
"Well, you all keep saying I'm not exactly mortal," Akira countered with a small smile. "So maybe I have a chance."
For the first time since her arrival, Morgan's lips curved into something approaching a genuine smile. "Perhaps you do."
"But first," Scáthach interjected practically, "we must prepare. The truce will not last forever, and when it ends, others will come for you with less diplomatic intentions."
"Prepare how?" Akira asked warily.
"You must learn to access and control whatever power sleeps within you," Rhongomyniad stated, as if this were the most obvious thing in the world.
Akira opened his mouth to protest yet again that he had no special powers, then closed it. If five divine beings were convinced he was something more than human, perhaps it was time to at least consider the possibility.
"Alright," he finally conceded. "Where do we start?"
"With this," Medusa said, producing a small, ornate mirror from somewhere within her flowing garments. She held it out to him. "Look upon your reflection, truly look, and tell us what you see."
Hesitantly, Akira took the mirror. He'd always avoided mirrors when possible, uncomfortable with his own appearance and the attention it garnered. Now, with five goddesses watching expectantly, he forced himself to look.
What he saw made him gasp. His reflection was... different, somehow. Still him, but with an ethereal quality he'd never noticed before—a subtle luminescence to his skin, a depth to his eyes that seemed to contain galaxies. For a brief moment, he thought he saw something behind him in the mirror—vast wings of light, unfurling from his shoulders.
He dropped the mirror in shock, but Medusa caught it before it hit the floor.
"What did you see?" Ishtar asked eagerly.
"I... I don't know," Akira stammered. "For a second, I thought I saw..." He trailed off, unable to articulate the impossible vision.
"The beginning of self-recognition," Scáthach nodded approvingly. "It is as we suspected."
"What am I?" Akira whispered, a question directed more to himself than to the goddesses.
"That," Morgan replied with unexpected gentleness, "is what we intend to help you discover."
Outside, storm clouds gathered as if in response to Akira's turbulent emotions. In his small apartment, surrounded by divine beings who looked to him with expectations he couldn't begin to comprehend, Akira Miyazaki—art student, social recluse, and possibly something far more extraordinary—faced the beginning of a journey he never asked for but could no longer avoid.
The shy god was awakening, whether he was ready or not.