What little luck he seemed to have possessed that day - his fifth day in the country. It was an omen – he knew – that it just -had- to rain when the forecast said it wouldn’t, that it would rain when he decided to take a nice, long walk out, with nothing but his cell phone in his belt buckle, his MP3 cozily snug In his pocket, the headphones through the sleeve and up the collar, seamlessly blending in with his body, and his PDA in his hands.

He was playing a racing game, as it had been, and was so busily absorbed into it as he walked blindly along Elm Street, that it took him a moment to realize that a drop of water just landed on his screen, distorting the colours slowly.

He cursed after that moment, wiping it off quickly and -just- getting enough time to put it in his pocket as the downpour started. It was like the sea was emptying it’s weight on the poor street by the ton, and he was caught in the middle of it.

He looked everywhere, searching for some shelter to protect his gelled head, and then – without thinking – he saw the bookstore. Jaremi wasn’t a fan for books, or even Canadians. He had already established where he would live – the most expensive apartment in the city – and didn’t think to interact with anyone here. Besides, what was the point? He had all the processed food, entertainment, exercise, and pleasure in the Condo, there was no –need- to talk to the people out here.

As he ducked and ran for cover, sprinting towards the building, he nearly tripped, consequently hitting the door quite hard, pushing it open with a loud clank as he fell in, embarrassed and more then slightly ticked.

The worst part? He knew, the moment he hit the door, that his beloved PDA had met its fate. And while he could easily replace it, it was the thought that counted.

Another reason this whole country blew.

Looking outside from his vantage point on the ground, he saw that the rain was just getting harder and faster, and he knew he would be here for a while. And instead of getting a good book and making himself cozy, he decided to scowl and be a jerk, getting up slowly and making his way to the chair nearest the entrance.

This was going to be a looong day.

Apoth, too, had been caught in the down pour, but it didn't really bother him. He was getting back into the swing of the godly groove, so his gray slacks, white dress shirt and black vest were fine. He did, however, dislike the fact that everyone on the street had disappeared. He was out walking so he could watch people, not watch them disappear.

He decided that maybe he should pop in somewhere as well so he could at least see some people. The god looked up and down the street, searching for a place where he wouldn't be too out of place. Of course, Jacobson's stuck out. Nice place.

Making his way to the shop, he grumbled against human nature to run from a bit of rain. Why run from it? It was just water. That was why they invented umbrellas.

Umbrella! That's what he was missing. Apoth reached out a plucked a plain black umbrella from the air and opened it, listening to the sound of the drops hitting the top. It was a nice sound, really. Tympan would probably enjoy it.

Finally, he reached the front door of the bookstore and made his way in. The tinkle of the bell above the door was soothing, almost like a lullaby. It said, 'Welcome to books.' He smiled.

Of course, the god was perfectly dry, though now he had the umbrella it wasn't such an odd thing. He shook it off and closed it, handling it now like a dripping, floppy cane. Apoth surveyed the store of his domain, a sense of pride welling up. Pride, he thought. over a bookstore. I was human for too long.

The first person he saw was a rather sullen looking asian. He wouldn't haven given the person a second glace, normally, but soemthing stuck. A sense of some sort. A sense of malice toward Apoth. He didn't like it.

Now, all gods are bastards deep down (usually not so deep), and Apoth is no exception. That might be why he took a seat near the sullen asian, holding a book he may or may not have been holding before. Hooking his umbrella on the arm of his chair and opening the book, he began to read.

(Author’s note: When I speak in italics, it means I’m speaking in Japanese. I don’t actually know the language so.. nyer.))

He was pissed. There was no other word that would suffice. And this… this man, sitting beside him? It wouldn’t do.

He had been itching for a good fight, but was just a /wee/ bit more sensible then actually throwing the first punch at a random guy because he was merfed. Instead he decided to cuss the guy out, knowing it’d make him feel better, while the other person would have no idea what he’d be saying.

It didn’t occur to him that the man beside him was actually a God that knew every language that ever existed – and that ever would.

“You Bastard. With your petty book.. you Westerners make me sick. If it were up to me, I’d burn all your precious books, and your evil ways. Taking over the whole world… Hah! Japan’s Technology would destroy your inferior knowledge. … I’d love to wipe that grin off your face as well….” he stopped then, his fists clenched and shaking. He didn’t realize how mad he was until he spoke to the God, his voice slow and menacing. It didn’t take a genius to figure out he was angry by his voice, but it wouldn’t be too clear to understand that he was –talking- to the God. If you didn’t understand him, I mean.

Jaremi took a deep breath, checking the time from his cell phone before calling someone, rudely speaking loudly as he talked to a friend or something, completely disturbing the people and disrupting the atmosphere of the area.

What an ass, Eh?

What an ass, indeed.

Apoth had decided to play stupid for a bit, as dirty as it made him feel. He didn't reply, or even let on that he had understood. However, when the mortal broke the sacred silence of the bookstore, he could not tolerate it.

"Excuse me," he said in japanese, "but if you would kindly be quiet, I would appreciate it greatly. I am trying to read." He was trying to be polite. He would have messed with the man's electronics, but he couldn't. Not unless he wanted Rajin breathing down his neck.

Without waiting for any kind of response he went back to his book, his appearance now shifting. He didn't look to be of any certain race. He seemed to change with every heartbeat (if he had had a heart, anyway). Just so the man couldn't use that as an insult.

It was with great shock he acted next. He had no idea that the man could speak Japanese – especially with such skill and with –perfect- connotation. It caught him off-guard for a second, but he quickly recuperated. Without looking at the man, he closed his cell-phone and put it away, yelping in surprise as he saw the man…thing.

He blinked, quite unsure of what he was seeing. The man was still there… but, he was changing. It was subtle, but…different. Like a woman losing five pounds, or a man getting a hair-cut.

He dismissed it instantly, though. Irrationally concluding that this atmosphere was now poisoning his mind; anything to avoid himself from the simple (or was it not-so-simple?) truth. He replied, his tone hard and his voice loud.

“If you want to read, I suggest you go elsewhere. I was here first, and I won’t stay quiet just because some snobby loser who pretends to know Japanese wishes so.” Bad move. And deep down, he was quite impressed with the man’s Japanese, seeing as how it was better then his own, somewhat quick-paced enunciation.

His fists were now clenched, and other people were looking at the pair. Some were weary, others curious and excited. But he didn’t care. He just wished it would stop raining so he could leave, go back to his television set and order some movies or something.

Without even looking up from his book, Apoth replied with, "Pretending to be japanese? My good man, I'm not pretending to be anything." Perhaps it was because he was a god that he said that with such a straight face, for as he saif it his appearance was that of a japanese man, if only for a second before moving on the the indiscernable shifting.

He did look up though upon hearing the man's thoughts. Television over books? And it wasn't even educational television, either. It was beyond insulting.

"It might do you some good, sir, to read a book instead of watching that damnable television. You might pass for polite." It was not a great retort of sorts, but that didn't matter. It got the point across.

“Read some books? Over Television? Who are you to tell me what to do?’ he was sincerely ticked at this man now, and completely ignored the fact that the man –knew- he planned to go watch some television; a lot of things in the world didn’t make sense to him right now, and what was one more?

“This is what I have to say to you and your books!” his voice went loud, very loud, and people that had been excited were now worried, those that were weary then cursed silently, and so on.

Jaremi wanted to make an impression to the man, and wanted to do it fast. In fear of ruining the moment by grabbing the man’s book (for the struggle would take too long) he just got the nearest book from a rack – ready to pay for it afterwards – and lit it on fire with his playboy Zippo. Yes, they had those back in Japan. It was probably the smartest move, since grappling with the God would have probably led to his death…

He was smiling as he burned the book, stupidly letting the flame rise so high that it burnt his finger, consequently landing near the other books.

Now he wasn’t a heartless man, and truly didn’t mean to burn /every/ book in the library. Especially when the God of Knowledge was right there with him. He understood and some-what respected other people’s beliefs. But maybe, just –maybe-, he had gone a little too far this time.

But how does the saying go? All’s well that end’s well?

Heh, this started out terrible…

When a god gets angry, it effects everything around it. Way back in the old days, people knew what it meant when the birds stopped singing, the dogs cowered, and the earth split beneath their feet. Now, however, they always have something to explain it with.

At the moment, Apoth was beyond angry. Someone had just burned a book in his presence. This was blasphemy. The air in the bookstore became very still and the noise level (what little there was) ceased to exist. Everything seemed to have frozen.

Anyone watching Apoth, and there was quite a few on account of the small fight and fire, would have seen the shifting man stop shifting and regain his normal body. Also, strangely, even though he was still sitting he seemed to tower over everyone. It got even darker outside and ominous thunder and lightning boomed, adding a perfectly needed and acceptable cliché.

"Excuse me," said the god quietly, "but that was quite rude." As he said the word 'rude,' the fire went out. Now the god stood up.

He didn't seem to have grown, but it also seemed like his head was scraping the ceiling. He looked down at Jaremi, a fire in his eyes. He honestly thought about smiting the mortal, but thought a curse would be in better order.

"You know what you need, Jaremi?" Apoth asked, picking up a book and raising it over the man's head. "A nice curse." He then dropped the book on the man's head, sealing the curse.

It was always easier to add something physical to the cursing process. It also made the cursee remember it more.

He blinked and stared at the man, his biased stubbornness causing him to ignore the fact the man knew his name, or how he suddenly seemed to be a force not to be reckoned with. He ignored it all; the only thing in his mind was the fact that he seemed to ..Hit him. Although it didn’t hurt... it tickled, if that made any sense.

His brain felt funny, and he coulda sworn something in him jumped. He wasn’t sure if it was his spleen or his brain… something moved. He groaned. Although it didn’t hurt, it sure as hell felt funny.

He was about to throw a punch, his fist clenched in anger, yet his whole body felt numb, and despite the pressure he put on his palm, it felt like nothing. He tried to lift it, shakily, yet he couldn’t, his face stuck in that disbeliefed/angered expression.

The last thing he said before he fell on the ground, passed out, was in English, and it came out as a hoarse whisper. But no matter – every single person, from little kid to old grandfather, they all heard it with crystal clarity.

“Fu….Fucker..”

Apoth nodded with a finality. "A good day to you too, sir," he said, picking up the book and replacing it. He then retrieved his umbrella and the book he had been holding. Again, he thought about smiting the mortal. In the end, he decided it would just be a waste of a curse.

"Of all the nerve," he grumbled as he walked out. The ground seemed to grumble along with him, and the books certainly did. Nothing precious to him was disturbed, however. Humans, on the other hand, felt it. A kind of anxiety in the stomach, only much worse.

"Maybe I can talk some of the others into a nasty curse for him as well," was the last thing the god said before leaving the bookstore, not bothering to pretend to need an umbrella as he walked away.

He woke up a little bit later, his head still groggy. So... many thoughts in his mind. Fragments of... English.

A...E..... F...

... There were so many gaps, but he knew suddenly that there were 26 letters in the English alphabet.

He also knew he only knew about 10.

And.. there were other things. He had the oddest urge to smoke.... and.. there was a memory of a swingset in a place he had never been to.

And, of course, there was the whole ordeal in the bookshop. Stiffling a curse, he rose from... the hospital bed. He was lucky; a rich relative had averted this from the media, from a jail sentence...

He lacked the audacity to find something to get mad it. He didn't admit defeat - he hadn't improved /that/ much - but he was on the right track.. kinda.

And 'sides, his head felt damned groggy.

Shakily getting out the bed, he heard a man speak to him in English, very, /very/ slowly.

A C E F K M P R U Y<---- The letters he knew.

"Excuse me ???" .... What did she say? He had no idea. Seemed the curse worked oddly. The whole way he would think was now altered. Why did he understand english? Why did he not know the third word she said?

Why was he scared?

Ignoring her, he walked out of the hospital in the hospital clothes, walking out--

--- And into his new, confusing as hell, life.