[PARK BENCH | EVENING | SUNSET BACKDROP | TWO DEITIES AND A GOLDFISH-TAKOYAKI CART]
Sora sat with a popsicle in his mouth, legs crossed on the bench like he was an enlightened monk.
Next to him, the Soul King—currently enjoying his third order of takoyaki like a man who had just discovered flavor—watched the sunset.
Both of them were very silent. This moment was very silent. There was absolutely nothing that could ruin such a perfect scene—just father and son enjoying each other's company. Nothing else to see here.
Then Sora opened his mouth.
"So technically... the lottery isn't gambling."
The Soul King blinked. Slowly turned his head. He looked at his son, as if wondering if this man was really about to have this conversation.
Upon seeing the giddy look on his face, he found out that yes, yes he would, in fact, play those games.
So, he decided to play along with his son's theatrics.
"...Go on."
"I mean, think about it!" Sora said, removing his popsicle like he was about to drop some ancient forbidden wisdom.
He might as well have been—in the next four minutes and eleven seconds, he would spout out the most amount of bullshit known to man.
"If you already know which ticket will win, thanks to The Almighty, then it's not really chance, right? That's not gambling. That's—"
"Fraud."
"—strategic asset acquisition!"
The Soul King stared at him.
Sora leaned forward, waving the popsicle like a conductor's baton. "Look, gambling implies risk. I remove the risk. I look into every possible timeline, see which one hits the jackpot, buy that exact ticket, and bam—problem solved! So really... I'm just using knowledge."
"To exploit a system meant for fairness and chance."
"Exactly! Wait—no."
"Sora." The Soul King's voice sounded rather stern, like a dad lecturing his son.
Sora looked like a kid caught stealing cookies with chocolate all over his face. "...Yes, papa?"
"That is gambling."
"But—"
"Enhanced gambling."
Sora pouted like a child. He was seventeen, mind you. "So if I predict a car crash and avoid it, that's okay. But if I predict lottery numbers and get rich, suddenly I'm Satan?"
"Yes."
Sora slumped. This was unfair. Come on—his strategy was bulletproof. "You know, for a guy who's technically omniscient, you're surprisingly moral."
"I watched over every civilization. Morality is contextual. Yours just happens to be stupid."
"...Hurtful, but accurate."
The Soul King wiped his mouth with a napkin, then added, "Also, your application to buy a pachinko parlor and turn it into a 'Reishi-based Fortune Casino' is denied."
"You read that?!" How? He didn't even say it, yet the Soul King already knew the shit he had planned. This was so freaking unfair. So damn unfair.
"I wrote the laws of spiritual causality. You tried to cheat destiny for small change."
"It was only ¥1.2 billion!"
The Soul King looked at him, deadpan. "...Why?"
"I wanted a giant golden Quincy statue to double as a bidet. It's about the principle."
"Of what?"
"Luxury!"
The Soul King sighed and turned back to the sunset. "...Maybe choosing you as my successor was a bad idea."
"Aw, come on, you don't mean that. You love me." Sora gave the man the brightest smile ever.
"You wouldn't hurt your favorite kid's feelings now, would you, papa?" Sora said, giving the man puppy eyes. Yes, he was trying puppy eyes on the Soul King. With his adaptation, his puppy eyes were now even more effective than those of a baby or a puppy.
"...Fine." The man gave in.
Sora looked happy.
"Which race do you feel pity for more: Shinigami or Fullbringers?"
"Fullbringers."
Yeah, that was to be expected.
"They possess little power, yet carry the largest emotional instability."
"...That's fair," Sora said, genuinely nodding. "But still. You sure Quincy weren't the best?"
The Soul King didn't even look at him. "Each race serves a role in balance."
"But Quincy—"
"No."
"But c'mon, just say it once! Quincy were—"
"I will not lie to stroke your ego."
Sora deflated like a dying balloon. "...Damn. You really are my moral compass now, huh?"
"I pray not."
"...You think Orihime's top-tier waifu material?"
The Soul King's brow twitched. "...This child."
"Come on, old man, what's your type? Big tits? Big ass? Small waist? Coca-Cola figure? Or long hair? Or do you like short hair?"
The whole time he was glancing at the man's facial expression to see what he liked.
"Trans woman? Or maybe fem—"
"Finish that sentence, and I shall strip you of your Almighty for a week."
Cough.
Sora almost fell face-first into that one. So, the Soul King wasn't into femboys.
"So what, you like gingers? Or maybe African women? What am I saying—Africa's a whole damn continent." He pondered a bit.
"Those fathers love Nyash."
"I do not desire such things, nor do I need such things. I have evolved past such concepts," the man said calmly.
"So you're a voyeur? Watching people fuck... and date. Creepy."
One gaze from the Soul King, and Sora was acting innocent once more. This man was still heavily overpowered.
"Maybe you need to meet that friend of yours. Gremmy, was his name? He's been dying to meet you," the man said calmly.
"Yeah, I planned on it. Wanted to invade the Quincy empire to beat the fraud-ass." Sora had a gentle smile on his face.
The Soul King simply nodded, but the man had his plans.