"Wow, you really thought it was going to be that kind of story? Nah," Amure muttered under her breath as she strolled down the bustling city street. The soft, vulnerable moment in the park was behind her now, and the reality of her situation had snapped back into focus. The gods might have thought they had her cornered, stripped of her powers and tossed into the world of mortals like some kind of redemption project, but Amure was far from being anyone's charity case.
She flipped her bobbed hair with a casual flick of her wrist, a smirk playing on her lips. The gods wanted her to atone, to protect these humans, to grow soft and become something she wasn't? As if. They underestimated her if they thought she would bend so easily. Sure, she'd play along—she'd act the part, save a few innocents here and there, just enough to keep the gods off her back. But deep down, she was still the same Amure, and she wasn't about to let anyone forget that.
As she walked, her mind raced with possibilities. The gods were powerful, yes, but they weren't all-seeing. They couldn't be everywhere at once. That left her room to maneuver, to find a way to turn this so-called curse to her advantage. Her powers were limited, but not gone, and she still had her wits—something that had gotten her out of tight spots more times than she could count.
She had to admit, though, the short hair was going to take some getting used to. Every time she reached up to run her fingers through her locks, she was reminded of just how much she had lost. But then again, it wasn't all bad. The new look was growing on her, and if nothing else, it made her blend in better with the humans. Plus, it was easier to manage—less of a hassle when she was out and about, pretending to be the gods' good little soldier.
As she rounded a corner, the cityscape changed from crowded streets to a quieter neighborhood. The buildings here were older, their brick façades weathered but charming. It was the kind of place where everyone knew everyone else's business—a perfect spot for her to lay low while she figured out her next move.
Amure's thoughts drifted back to the gods, and she couldn't help but chuckle. They really thought they were so clever, didn't they? Banishing her to live among humans, giving her this absurd mission of protecting them. Did they really think that would change her? She had played the long game before, and she could do it again. She'd bide her time, act the part, and when the moment was right, she'd show them just how much they had underestimated her.
For now, though, she needed to stay under the radar, to make the gods believe that she was buying into their little redemption story. And that meant finding someone to save, some small act of heroism to keep them off her back.
As if on cue, she heard the faint sound of crying. It was soft, almost imperceptible beneath the hum of the city, but her senses, though dulled, were still sharp enough to catch it. Amure followed the sound, her steps light and careful as she approached a narrow alley between two buildings. The crying grew louder as she got closer, and soon she found its source—a young girl, no older than seven or eight, huddled behind a dumpster, her face streaked with tears.
Amure's first instinct was to walk away. What did she care about some crying kid? But then she remembered her plan. She needed to keep up appearances, to make the gods think she was changing, softening. Besides, helping this girl would be easy—no need to use her powers, no need to draw attention to herself.
She crouched down beside the girl, her voice taking on a tone that was almost gentle. "Hey, what's wrong?" she asked, even as her mind was already plotting the next steps.
The girl looked up, startled by the sudden presence of a stranger. She sniffled, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I-I got lost," she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
Amure forced a smile, the kind she had practiced in front of mirrors long ago. "Well, you're in luck. I'm pretty good at finding things. How about I help you get home?"
The girl hesitated, her eyes wide with uncertainty. Amure could see the fear in her, the instinct to run away from a stranger. But she also saw something else—a glimmer of hope, the desperate need for someone, anyone, to care.
"Come on," Amure urged, holding out her hand. "I won't bite, I promise."
The girl hesitated for a moment longer before finally reaching out and taking Amure's hand. Her small fingers felt fragile, like they might break under the slightest pressure. It reminded Amure of the bird from the park, how delicate it had been in her hands. The memory stirred something inside her, but she pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand.
As they walked out of the alley, Amure began to question the girl about where she lived, her voice soft and reassuring. The girl, slowly gaining trust, described her home—a small apartment a few blocks away, where she lived with her grandmother. It wasn't far, and Amure led the way, her steps confident and steady.
All the while, she kept up the act, playing the role of the concerned, caring adult. But beneath the surface, her mind was racing. This was just the beginning—a small, simple act of kindness that would start to build her new reputation. The gods would see her as changing, as becoming the protector they wanted her to be. But they wouldn't see the real plan, the one brewing in the depths of her mind.
Once they reached the apartment, the girl's grandmother greeted them at the door, her face a mix of relief and gratitude. Amure brushed off the woman's thanks with a wave of her hand, her eyes already scanning the street for her next move.
As she walked away, the old woman's words echoed in her mind: "Thank you, you're an angel."
Amure smirked to herself. An angel? Not quite. But let them think what they wanted. Let the gods believe she was turning over a new leaf, that she was embracing her role as their chosen protector. They had no idea what was coming.
Because Amure wasn't just going to play their game—she was going to win it.