Chapter 21: God's Game

The night Ethan was born was a night of strange celestial occurrences. The stars seemed to burn brighter, and a faint, ethereal glow enveloped the small house.

Sidapa, the serene god of death and time, stood near the foot of the bed, his presence radiating a quiet, almost unsettling calm. Beside him, Makaptan, the mischievous god of fate and the afterlife, bounced on the balls of his feet, his eyes gleaming with an almost childlike curiosity.

"You feel that, Sidapa?" Makaptan asked, his voice a low, excited whisper. "Like… static on a cosmic radio! Something's buzzing in here."

Sidapa, his gaze fixed on the newborn, nodded slowly. "Indeed. An ancient power. A resonance."

"Ooh, is it a ghost? Is it a portal? Is it… a really powerful baby fart?" Makaptan asked, his eyes wide with mock seriousness.

Sidapa sighed, a sound like the rustling of ancient leaves. "Makaptan, please. This is not a matter for levity."

"But think of the possibilities!" Makaptan exclaimed, gesturing wildly. "Maybe he's the chosen one! Maybe he's gonna save the universe from… galactic dandruff!"

Sidapa pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just… observe."

"Okay, okay, I'm observing!" Makaptan said, leaning over the crib. "Ooh, look at his tiny toes! They're like little… cosmic sausages!"

Sidapa glared at him. "Makaptan..."

"Fine, fine," Makaptan muttered, his gaze finally settling on the baby's back. "Wait, what's that?"

He pointed to a faint, almost invisible mark on the baby's back. A crescent moon, its delicate curve barely perceptible against the soft skin.

"What is it?" Makaptan asked, tilting his head.

Sidapa's eyes widened slightly. "The mark..."

"The mark of what? A really fancy birthmark?" Makaptan asked, his usual playful tone replaced by genuine curiosity.

"It is hers," Sidapa said, his voice hushed with reverence. "The Moon Goddess. He is marked by Mayari."

Makaptan's eyes widened. "Wait, seriously? The Moon Goddess? The one with the really big moon chariot and the pet celestial tigers?"

Sidapa nodded, his gaze fixed on the infant. "Her power resonates within him."

"Whoa," Makaptan breathed, his usual mischievous energy replaced by a sense of awe. "That's… intense. I thought we were just dealing with a potentially powerful baby fart, but this is way cooler."

Ethan's mother, Maria, lay still, her breathing shallow and labored. The joy of childbirth was quickly fading into a grim silence. She had given her life to bring her son into the world, fulfilling a fate woven into the very fabric of her existence. Ethan's lola and lolo stood beside her, their faces etched with grief and a silent, desperate plea.

Ethan's lola, her eyes filled with unshed tears, looked at Sidapa, her voice trembling but firm. "Take care of her. Please. She gave everything for this child."

Sidapa, his eyes filled with a solemn understanding, nodded. "It will be done."

He raised his hand, and a figure emerged from the shadows, a being of quiet strength and ancient authority. "Anito," Sidapa said, his voice resonating with power. "Escort her with the respect she deserves."

Anito, a psychopomp, a spirit who guides the souls of the dead, bowed his head in acknowledgment. He approached Maria, his presence a gentle, comforting warmth.

Months passed. Ethan, now six months old, began to crawl, his eyes filled with a bright curiosity. One day, he crawled towards the patio, his gaze fixed on Makaptan, who was observing him with a playful glint in his eyes. Ethan reached out his tiny hands, babbling incoherently.

"Up! Up!" Ethan demanded, his voice a determined squeak.

Makaptan, amused by the infant's audacity, lifted him into the air. With a flick of his wrist, he made Ethan float, gently swirling him around the patio. Ethan giggled, his eyes wide with delight.

Ethan's lola and lolo watched in awe, their laughter echoing through the air. They were captivated by the sight of their grandson floating, seemingly weightless. Makaptan, too, was captivated by Ethan's allure, his charm as a baby drawing him in.

Years passed, and the gods, occupied with their godly duties, returned to Ethan's home. Ethan was now a toddler, curious and energetic. The gods, in their true forms, their presence veiled to mortal eyes, but not to Ethan's lola, sat on the porch.

Ethan's lola, with a quiet grace, served them steaming mugs of thick, dark tablea. The rich aroma filled the air, a comforting contrast to the otherworldly presence of the gods.

"Here you go," she said, her voice gentle, offering a mug to Makaptan. "This will warm you."

Makaptan, despite his ethereal form, accepted the mug with a surprisingly human gesture, his shadows swirling slightly as he took a sip. "Delicious," he murmured, his voice like the chime of distant bells.

Sidapa, his presence radiating a serene intensity, observed Ethan as he played with wooden toys. "He is… resilient," he commented, his voice a deep, resonant hum.

Makaptan, ever the mischievous trickster, grinned, his eyes sparkling with playful challenge. "Oh, is that so, old friend? Care to wager on that?"

He gestured towards Ethan. "Let's see if he can see us, shall we?"

Sidapa, his brow furrowed with serene skepticism, raised a hand, and the stars themselves seemed to pause in their celestial dance, acknowledging his authority. He then did extravagant, and funny things to get the attention of the toddler. Makaptan chuckled watching his friend.

But Ethan, oblivious to the gods' antics, continued to play with his toys. Sidapa, frustrated, gave up.

Then, Ethan suddenly spoke, pointing at Sidapa. "No blackie, bad blackie! You took Mama from me!" he exclaimed, his voice clear and loud, filled with an unexpected anger.

The gods were flabbergasted. How could Ethan, a toddler, know? How could he remember, or even perceive, Sidapa's role in his mother's passing, a memory from his infancy?

Sidapa's usually tranquil expression wavered, replaced by a profound shock. "How... how do you know?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Makaptan, his playful demeanor gone, stared at Ethan with a mixture of awe and unease. "He… he remembers," he said, his voice hushed. "He sees what we thought was hidden."

Makaptan leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with a strange sense of wonder and a hint of gravity. "Looks like we've stumbled upon something rather… extraordinary. A mortal who can pierce the veil, who can see beyond the illusion, beyond time itself."

He turned to Sidapa, his voice suddenly laced with a hint of gravity, the playful tone fading. "This child… he's different, Sidapa. There's a spark in him, a connection to something… ancient. We should observe him. See where fate, or perhaps chaos, leads him."

Sidapa, his gaze fixed on the innocent toddler, nodded slowly, a hint of wonder and a touch of unease in his eyes. "Agreed, Makaptan. If he can truly perceive us in our true forms, then his destiny is intertwined with threads we cannot ignore. But tread carefully, old friend. Playing with mortal lives is a dangerous game."

"I'll keep a closer eye on him," Makaptan said, his voice now that of a child, full of youthful energy. "I'll be his… friend."

And so, Makaptan became "Maka" to Ethan. A childhood friend, a loyal friend and his friend in the mafia organization.

Was also the one who shot him.