In the face of infinity, every event is both inevitable and impossible. Meaning becomes a matter of perspective, a trick of the light in an otherwise endless void.

I've always thought of myself as someone who exists for no reason. I was here, alone, drifting in nothingness, suspended in a place where even the concept of time felt like a distant echo. And I liked it. I was free, in a way that's hard to put into words. There was no past or future, no expectations or goals—just a great, endless silence that stretched on forever.

But then… there was Mikaboshi.

She was the first thing I ever created, though I didn't know I was creating anything at the time. I found her floating in the nothingness, a tiny spark of light in the vast emptiness. She was small, smaller than anything I'd ever seen, and she cried. Her tears were little stars that flickered in the dark, each one creating a new point of light in the nothingness around us.

I floated over, curious, and poked her in the side. "Hey," I said. "What's wrong?"

She sniffled, looking up at me with big, gradient pink eyes. "It's too dark," she mumbled, wiping her eyes with her tiny hands. "I don't like it."

I blinked, surprised. "But it's just… nothing."

"Exactly!" she wailed, and with each tear, more stars appeared. They hung there, suspended in the void, like diamonds scattered across an infinite black canvas.

I tilted my head, considering. "Alright then… let's make something."

With a thought, I conjured a cube. It hovered in front of us, plain and simple. But inside… inside was everything. I layered it with infinite dimensions, each one transcending the last, a staircase that climbed forever upwards and downwards, in all directions. And in each layer, I created an omniverse. An endless number of realities, universes, timelines—all stacked on top of one another like sheets of paper, folded in ways that defied understanding.

Mikaboshi watched with wide eyes, her tears slowing as she saw what I was doing. "What… what's that?" she whispered, her voice small.

I grinned. "It's… something. Better than nothing, right?"

She nodded, still sniffling a bit, but a tiny smile played at the corners of her lips.

I wasn't alone for long. Not after that.

Three figures appeared, stepping out of the nothingness like it was a curtain they'd just walked through. Minaka(Amenominakanushi), the Central Master, with a face that seemed both ancient and youthful. Takami(Takamimusubi), the High Creator, whose eyes sparkled with a light that suggested he'd already seen the end of all things and found it amusing. Kami(Kamimusubi), the Divine Creator, whose presence felt like a quiet hum, a steady beat that resonated through the void.

They looked at me, then at the cubes I'd made. For a long moment, no one spoke.

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Finally, Minaka smiled. "You've been busy."

I shrugged. "I got bored."

Takami laughed, a sound that rang out like a bell. "Boredom is the first step to creation, I suppose."

Kami nodded, their expression serene. "What do you intend to do with these… cubes?"

I thought about it for a moment. "I dunno," I admitted. "Let them be, I guess. See what happens."

For eons, we let things unfold. The omniverses within the cubes expanded, collapsed, and expanded again. Stars were born, planets formed, and galaxies swirled like paint on a cosmic canvas. Mikaboshi floated by my side, her tears slowing but never quite stopping, each one adding a new star to the ever-growing expanse.

Then two more figures appeared—Umashi, The God Of Energy, and Tokota(Amenotokotachi), The Deity Of Heaven. They were like me, yet different, each with their own spark, their own essence.

Umashi looked at the cubes and grinned. "You've given them energy," he said, as if that was the most obvious thing in the world. "But they need more. A source."

He reached out, touching one of Mikaboshi's stars. It flared with a brilliant light, becoming a sun. More suns followed, illuminating the vast void, and with their warmth, planets began to form in earnest.

"Better," he said, satisfied.

Tokota watched, his expression contemplative. "And what of life?" he asked. "What of creation beyond mere matter?"

I shrugged again. "That's up to them, isn't it?"

And so, we waited. For billions of years, we watched the worlds grow, evolve, and change. Stars flared and died, planets collided and formed anew, and in one small corner of one insignificant cube, a tiny blue planet began to take shape.

Mikaboshi floated beside me, now a little older, her tears slowing to a stop as she watched the new world grow. "What's that one?" she asked, pointing.

"Earth," I said, naming it on a whim. "I thin it might be special."

We watched as life emerged from the oceans, tiny cells clinging to existence, multiplying and evolving over eons. They crawled onto land, grew legs, grew wings, and eventually, there were humans. They were small, fragile things, not unlike Mikaboshi when I'd first found her.

Mikaboshi leaned in closer, her hazel eyes wide with wonder. "They're so… different," she whispered.

I nodded, fascinated by their endless drive, their stubborn refusal to be anything less than everything they could be. "Yeah," I said quietly. "They are."

For a long time, we watched them grow, make fire, build homes, and form societies. They fought, they loved, they lived and died. Each moment was a spark, a flicker in the vast sea of time.

And then… Mikaboshi cried again.

"Why?" I asked, turning to look at her. "Why are you crying now?"

She wiped her eyes, her voice trembling. "I… I don't know. I just feel… something."

I put a hand on her shoulder, feeling a strange warmth in my chest. "Maybe you're just… adapting?.."

She nodded, leaning her head against my shoulder. "I like this one," she whispered. "I think it's… special."

I smiled, wrapping an arm around her. "Me too."

We stood there, together, in the endless void, watching the first humans take their first steps, unaware of the Gods who watched over them.

"Hey, Y/N?" Mikaboshi said softly, after a long silence.

"Yeah?"

She hugged me tight, her small arms wrapping around me. "Thanks for making me..."

I blinked, surprised, then laughed, hugging her back. "You're welcome, Mika."

And for the first time, in a long time, the nothingness felt a little less empty.