
by Smanga__off mark
Kami was born from sky and blood moon, silver-haired and crimson-eyed, already adult then infant in the same breath. The world called him divine. He claims he is not. But beings who meet him feel they have seen him before —in dreams, in futures, in versions of themselves that do not exist. The sensation is not recognition. It is resonance , as if their own unlived lives reach for him across distance they cannot measure. The Academy of Volciana gathers the strong for competition. Kami gathers only boredom . He wants to read books, drink tea, be left alone. Instead, he becomes the prize in a war disguised as sport, the mirror that shows others what they have lost, and the final variable in a plot that began before the world learned his name. Some want to use him. Some want to save him. Some want to become him. He wants to finish his library books. He does not understand why this is difficult. He does not understand that the world appraises —values, measures, wants—and that he is its final reference point, the standard against which all wanting is judged. He made everything. Then he made himself forget. Now he falls through what he made while what he made reaches for him, and the hand that started everything points down and says: look at the greed . Kami looks. He is not surprised. He is not angry. He is bored , and in his boredom is the truth the world cannot accept: that the Creator who wanted to be normal has become the normalcy that wants to be divine, and neither desire will be satisfied. He is not what they think. He is worse. He is exactly what they need, and he will not give to them Hope you like my work