Welcome (back),

So, massive rewrite here. Finally. I'm glad to have gotten this done, as the writing dates back to times of old. Some of the chapters were scrapped and completely redone from scratch, while some were simply... revamped. Eventually, I plan to go over the rest of the chapters as well, but for now this'll do. I highly recommend rereading them, as the plot is cleared up, and the writing is moderately less... bad. But only moderately. I'm not making any promises here.

"We all go a little mad, sometimes."

- Psycho

Project Goddess


The Most Normal Year Ever

My hands closed over the cold metal.

I swung.

I released.

Soaring like a pewter discus from Ancient Olympia, the frying pan tore through the air towards its final, inevitable destination.

His head.

My fists clenched together in what promised to be the initial stages of a victory waltz, when a blur of black shot past me. My brows crunched together in a frown. Even after all this time, I was still caught off guard by Maiku's unnatural speed. Completely and totally unfair if you ask me, which no one ever does. Without so much as a sound, his lithe form stopped not two feet from me, the handle of my thick grey frying pan grasped easily between the fingers of his right hand.

To think of it, his reflexes were unjust too. Yet another reason for me to destroy him.

"Now, Mirei," he sighed condescendingly, giving the former discus an effortless little spin. "What have I told you about losing your temper?"

From behind unkempt black bangs stared those striking honey eyes of his. He winked and his lips curled into an indulgent smirk as he watched the resulting aggravation flit across my face. Far too used to his blatant displays of conceit, I held my ground, and set my glare into him like so many knives.

"You're one to talk," I sliced out, digging my hands into either side of my waist, and trying desperately to ignore the fact that I was wearing the dress-version of the Ringling Brothers circus big top. It was so much harder to be taken seriously when you had red, yellow and white pinstripes running down your front. He crossed his arms smugly, in that way that he knew made me furious. I thoroughly ignored the manic lub-dubbing from inside my chest. Yes, Maiku was definite heartbreak material; there was no denying that. And, unfortunately enough, he knew it too. Cheeky devil.

But, of course, he was also well aware that I wasn't one to give in so easily, especially to something as trivial as a hormone-driven grin. I had reasons to be pelting him with kitchen utensils. Big reasons. Enormous reasons.

I ducked behind the counter and reached into the nearest drawer, hoping to find something to use as a weapon. My fingers closed over quite a few of the sharp and edgy variety.

He must've seen the madness in my eyes, or perhaps interpreted my less subtle Chuckle of Pure, Unadulterated Evil, for he jumped up in an attempt to stop me.

"Mirei! What the hell do you think you're doing?"

I shrieked wordlessly, throwing the forks with the utmost precision. By 'utmost precision', I believe I meant 'in his general direction, hopefully'. He used the frying pan as a shield and the mini pitchforks bounced uselessly to the floor. Damn. I readied another handful, and this time Maiku knew I was serious.

"Can't we just talk about this?" He gulped, palms held out peaceably, the sly confidence gone from his voice.

"Talk?" I murmured, red hot fury bubbling up from inside me. "Now you want to talk?!"

He took a second to think about it.

"Uh, y-yes?"

I clenched my fist and then threw my arm forward,

"Talk THIS!"

Not stopping to see the resulting damage, I grit my teeth and reached over to grab a harmless egg beater.

"Mirei," he growled, eyeing my hand, "don't even think about it."

I thought about it.

It hit him smack in the face. Not so harmless now!

He was getting angry now, I could tell by the way his nostrils flared. A month ago, that would have frightened me. Now it just made me feel like I was getting somewhere. Violence was a language with us. Absurd, but true.

"This is all your fault," I wheezed. Radical utensil-throwing tended to wind a girl.

"Look, Mirei," he tried again, hands out to ward off any further attacks. "As far as I'm concerned, the only thing to blame right now is your mental state."

My jaw clenched. My instability was so not the topic of conversation here.

I was seeing red, and not just because of the tiny drops of blood that were now dripping down his chin. There was some satisfaction in that, but not nearly enough to quench this complete and utter feeling of injustice from within. How dare he. The nerve of that magic-toting, misleading, manipulating asshole. There was no way I could forgive him after everything that had happened. No possible way.

It was much easier to just kill him.

In theory.

"Ugh. Look what you did," he grunted, moping up the blood with the sleeve of his black shirt. "I'm bleeding, dammit! No kitchen utensil has ever made me bleed before…"

I stomped my foot into the marble floor, hard enough for my heel to snap under the pressure. The other had given in long ago.

He looked up angrily from beneath his shaggy mess of dark hair,. "I don't know why you're so upset. I'm the one who's leaking bodily fluid here."

I failed to care. In fact, the only thing I hadn't failed at today was clenching a good, solid fist.

I bent my knees, and lunged headfirst into his chest.

Okay. Freeze.

Ah, those sweet memories...

I must apologize. You see, I have this nasty little habit of not beginning at the beginning, which is, to my weak understanding, where beginnings belong.

From the above events, you may be wondering any number of things. Who am I? Who is Maiku? Why am I attempting to cause him bodily harm? And, why, oh why, did I not just hire a trained assassin like everyone else?

You also might ask what kind of screwed up memory this is.

And I might answer, mine.

But, in the interest of chronology, I'll go back to the very first step: The Introduction.

My name is Mirei. Mirei Yumeko. A normal name by any modern consideration, paired with a normal girl.

And under any normal circumstances, I am not a violent person.


There's just something about Maiku that makes me want to strangle the living daylights out of him. Well, or carve them out with a spork.

But then, he never gave me the respect a goddess deserves.

Goddess? Don't think I don't know that look you're giving me. The one that wonders where my attendants have run off to and where my nice white jacket has gone, the one with all the straps.

Oh, believe me, if I had a choice between being here or in a cosy asylum cell, it is quite possible that the men with the jackets would win out in the end. If they could somehow get by Maiku, that is. He is one pigheaded demon menace.

Yes. Goddesses and demons. All we need now is a heroic quest to save the Earth and we'd be all set. Epic proportions and all that.

Heroic quest. Epic proportions. Hah!

I'd settle for saving myself.

In all honesty, demons couldn't care less about the Earth. They have no plans of world domination, no big scheme to corrupt us. To be honest, our dimension just isn't worth the trouble. As long as there are humans scuttling around, souls ripe for the picking, then the demon folk are happy. Relatively happy, anyway. It just depends on if you catch them on a good day, which I've yet to do.

Anyway, demons and goddesses. Goddesses and demons. That's pretty extreme, I know. If it's any consolation to your reality, there's only one goddess, and I'm pretty sure she's imaginary. Me. I'm the only one of my kind, as far as I know, and if it weren't for Maiku, I would have never discovered it. Lucky me. I would have just continued on, blissfully ignorant, going about my daily life. School, home, breathing, eating, sleeping and other such normal goings on. No bewitched clothing, psychotic worshipping mobs, glowing bells, evil henchman, giant monkeys, or daemon sorceresses who want to destroy me.

Nope. Nilch. Nada.

And he wonders why I want him dead.

I suppose being a fake goddess has its ups. Instead of being scoffed at, or just plain ignored by the dwindling brain cells of the high school 'cool crowd,' I have a nice setup being worshiped and adored by hordes of creepy, conformist zombies. It's enough to make a girl squeal in happiness.

I often try to see things from others' viewpoints. Everyone wants to be special, to be loved, to have a magic power or some ultimate defining attribute.

Everyone... is stupid.

Besides, I've decided that the cons of being a ravishing goddess definitely outweigh the pros. Cons... That reminds me of Maiku. The handsome devil, just to be literal, is the start of all my problems. Sure, he may have had good intentions, and, yeah, he'd never let anything really bad happen to me, and, okay, sure, maybe I've been looking at him as a little bit more than just a warm-blooded punching bag. But sometimes I wish I had the powers of a real goddess, just so I could kick his butt back to the prison for the demonically condemned.

Condemned. Yep. Suits him.

And then, with Maiku comes a whole cart-full of other fun prizes. Like dear Tatsuke, whose panic purple hair makes him the envy of My Little Ponies everywhere, and whose actual knowledge of humans could fit on half of my chewed pinky fingernail. He tries, though, and you've got to give him credit for that.

Well... Except when he pulls out the lace trim. Then you run.

Just for the record, I have never once consented to wear monogrammed lingerie. Or any lingerie for that matter. Not once.

Sumi would attest to that, although I hardly think that the word of a cynical, toaster-sized, winged hellcat would stand up well in today's court. They might hold that little bloodlust problem against her credibility.


You don't believe a word of this, do you?

Good. If you did, I'd be more worried about the men with the jackets coming for you.

Besides, it's the sane ones that are the most fun to convert.

There are only two people who are crazy enough to always believe me. One has golden eyes, an irresistible attitude problem, and a more recently developed egg-beater phobia. Yeah, that's Maiku for you. He and I are... well... We just are. That might be the only way to put it.

What? Romance is complicated.

Even more so when everything you thought you knew was turns out to be so very, very wrong.

The other is Maiku's polar opposite: Eien Sunada.

There are so many titles for that guy, I can't even begin to tell you. So, I'll stick with the first one: Fiancé. My fiancé, in particular. He's the only one who I might have the chance of having one of those fabled 'Happily Ever After's with, and is quite possibly the most sincere, noble high school senior I'd ever met.

I guess it all runs back to whether or not I'm even looking for a happily ever after. Right now I'd be okay with a 'Normally Ever After,' or a 'Average-ly Ever After'. I'd even welcome an 'Interestingly Ever After.' Or an 'Ever After' that doesn't involve edible underwear. Or even, under the right circumstances, one that does.

But there I go, rambling on about the checkered flag before I so much as put my toe over the starting line.

If there's one thing to expect about my story, our story, it's nothing.

It's simply not safe to expect things. Or to rule them out for that matter.

It's best to just roll with the punches. ... And with the knives, the forks, the frying pans, the pointed rocks, the frisbees, and other such air-born objects of mass destruction.

It's kind of funny, really. Until this year, I'd always kind of thought Fate was in my corner, cheering me on.

I've since learned better.

It all began on the first day of school. Not my very first, of course, so the novelty and excitement had long worn off. But, it was the first day of a new year, and so I was filled with the optimism and energy that accompanies a clean slate. I was determined for this to be my most successful, my most important, and my most normal year ever.

My most normal year ever.

Let's get this freak show moving already.

Next on PG: The Fate Theory

Mirei Yumeko tells herself she has a normal life. Really. We just don't get to see much of it. Enter scantily-clad brothers, obsessive girlfriends, future husbands, and invisibility barriers gone wonky. Kiwis versus cantalopes. Floating felines. The first day of a new academic year. She's bound to learn a lot, or at least die trying.

Thanks for reading, folks. Feedback is a lovely thing.