Puberty

The sound of the door opening arrived at the same moment as the voice.

"Uncle! A message has come! And from somewhere quite important!"

I reflexively closed the front of my robes.

"Come now, Uncle. Closing your robes before your nephew has even crossed the threshold is a little hurtful."

"A fellow with a prior record gets this kind of reception as a matter of course."

"That's the truly unfair part. What could a half-day-old infant possibly know, that you'd hold a grudge for eons over something he did?"

Hermes leaned one shoulder against the doorframe and gave his winged sandals a little waggle. The household staff lined up in the corridor watched that posture with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠blank stares, but he paid them no mind. In this palace, he was the only one in the entire world who could stand like that.

"Where's Eunomia? I haven't seen her around lately."

"She's been busy with Olympus legal affairs. The lawsuits among the gods these days—you wouldn't believe how many there are. So fleet-footed me has taken over the whole job. Ah, and she made me promise several times to tell you she's sorry she couldn't come say goodbye in person."

Hermes had grown; it seemed the messenger post was undergoing a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠generational change right on schedule with the original myths.

Still, the handover had been thorough. The way he handled letters, the instinct for when to withdraw—Eunomia must have drilled him carefully before she left.

"So. What's today's message?"

"A letter from Lady Demeter. Seeing that she sealed it, I doubt it's a feast invitation. I don't know the contents myself. Curiosity or not, never opening them is the one rule of this profession."

Hermes drew a wax-sealed letter from his robes and offered it with both hands.

I broke the seal.

The letter was not long.

The opening was a brief account of recent news—chatty details that began with how the new gods, who seemed born only the day before yesterday, were already ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠each taking up their own domains.

Once I had read a certain way, Demeter's real point appeared.

At the final passage I set the letter down for a moment.

"Shall I take a reply? Lady Demeter will be waiting with her neck stretched out."

"Tell her by word of mouth. I'll go soon."

"As expected of Uncle. Your handling of affairs is so crisp and clean."

"Spare me the nonsense and just go deliver it."

The boy gave something that might or might not have been a bow and vanished like the wind. Through the open door a single gust of air came in and went out again. With the change of messenger, even the air of the palace felt different.

Lately the child has been strange… No matter how I looked at it, that was puberty. Did gods get puberty too?

The road to the fields was new to me.

Unless there was a feast, I had no reason to come up to the surface. The place where the chariot cut through the earth and rose was golden. Demeter's wheat field. Ripe ears of grain rolled in waves all the way to the horizon, and between them patches of multicolored flowers floated like islands on a golden sea.

It was far too living a land for the King of the Dead to walk.

With every step my shadow lay long across the ears. The wheat grew cool only in the shape of my shadow, then warmed again once I had passed. The feel of sunlight settling on my shoulders was something I had not known in a long time.

One by one the nymphs working the fields spotted me.

A sheaf of grain dropped with a soft thud. Song cut off mid-note. One nymph, not knowing what to do with the sickle in her hand, hid it behind her back. A sickle in front of the King of the Dead—she must have realized the impropriety herself. Whispers raced along the furrows. The Underworld's. King. Why is he here.

From the middle of the field Demeter came walking out.

"You really came, Brother. Even after I sent the letter I was only half-convinced."

"You wouldn't have contacted me unless you were truly worried, so I came. Where is the child?"

"She'll be over by the flower field. These days she's alone there from sunrise to sunset. Ah—and please don't tell her I called you. If you do, she won't speak to me for days."

"All right. I won't say you called me."

"I'll be watching the fields over that way, so take your time talking with her."

As she turned, Demeter added one more thing.

"Thank you, Brother. And I'm glad you're the one adult she never feels awkward around."

Then she withdrew, taking the nymphs with her. It was the face of someone who had been stewing in worry for days.

The flower field floated like an island in the very center of the wheat. Flowers early for the season and flowers late for it bloomed mixed together in one place—proof of the skill of the field's mistress.

Kore sat in the middle of it, back hunched.

Chin propped on her knees, she was twirling a single flower between her fingers. I had not even tried to muffle my footsteps, yet she did not notice me until I was right in front of her.

"Kore."

Her shoulders jumped.

The face that turned and confirmed it was me stiffened twice. Once from surprise. Once from realizing something.

"…Mother called you. Didn't she."

"No. I was just passing by."

"What business would the King of the Underworld have that takes him past a wheat field? Is this a shortcut to the Underworld?"

I was left without an answer. Sorry, Demeter. Your daughter is too sharp. I tried to keep the promise.

"…Fine. I came because of the letter."

"What did it say? What did Mother tell you?"

"That you've been strange lately. That you talk less and only want to be alone."

"I'm not strange. Mother just worries too much for no reason."

"So it seems."

"…That was sarcasm just now."

"Was it."

Kore whipped her head away. The tips of her ears were red. Even I could tell it was not the red of happiness.

"Go away. I'm fine, so tell Mother I'm fine too."

I sat down on the field bank. Not beside her, not opposite her—at an awkward middle distance. And I asked nothing. There was no hurry.

The single flower kept turning in Kore's hand.

The wind swept across the wheat field two or three times.

"…Mister. They say Apollo already has three temples."

Suddenly Kore opened her mouth.

"Human kings line up for months just to hear one line of oracle. Artemis keeps more than a hundred nymphs and rules whole forests. Hermes flies all over the world running Father's errands. He was born way after me. He cleaned out my entire doljabi table, remember? That baby who was still wrapped in swaddling clothes."

"I remember. My gold coin got cleaned out that day too."

"And that baby is already an adult. Everyone's become an adult except me."

The flower stopped.

"Even the nymphs I used to play with treat me like a baby now. You'll get hurt, Kore. It's dangerous, Kore. Don't go to the stream alone, Kore. Kids younger than me say that. Do you know what Hermes said yesterday? He patted me on the head and said, 'When are you going to grow up, big sister?' and flew off. Too high for me to even catch him."

Her voice grew lower and lower until it cracked at the end.

"Everyone's pulled ahead. All the ones who came later than me. At first I thought I'd catch up soon. But no. The gap only keeps getting wider. Why is it only me? Why am I the only one who won't grow?"

I did not know the answer either. The growth of gods was uneven, but I had never seen a case as slow as Kore's. No one knew why. Perhaps the child herself least of all.

So I told a different story.

I chose my words carefully for a moment. This was the first time I had ever spoken the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠rest of that tale aloud.

"Do you remember hearing that long ago, the moment I was born, my father swallowed me?"

Kore lifted her head.

"I never told you the rest of it."

"…There's more? Weren't you just swallowed and then came out again?"

"I'm the eldest. Born first among six siblings. So I was swallowed first and stayed longest in Father's belly. Then how do you think it went when we came out?"

"…………."

"I was last. We came out in reverse order of going in. By birth I was the first, but by coming out I was the youngest. Funny, isn't it. Not stuck somewhere in the middle of my siblings—standing at both ends at the same time."

Kore's eyes slowly widened. It was the face of someone hearing this for the first time. Well, to the gods it was such ancient history that no one bothered to bring it up anymore.

"…But everyone still calls you the eldest, Mister. Even Lord Zeus says 'Elder Brother, Elder Brother.'"

"I was born first—that's a fact. Everyone treats it that way, and I play the eldest role as best I can. The tangle is a tangle, and the titles are titles."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"The time I spent in that belly was lost completely. Nothing to see, nothing to hear, nothing I could do. Meanwhile the world had gone far ahead. When I finally came out, everyone called me the eldest, but I myself had no idea what anything was. I probably knew less about the ways of the world than the youngest who had been born yesterday."

"…………."

"So I know a little of what it feels like to be later than everyone else. Not as much as you, but a little."

Kore said nothing for a long while.

The wind passed once more, and she mumbled with her face half-buried in her knees.

"…Why are you only telling me this now. You never said a word before."

"You never asked."

"Things like that you're supposed to tell before someone asks."

"From now on I will."

"…That's a promise."

"Yes. A promise."

"And there's no need to be impatient. For gods, an eon or so isn't even late, is it."

Kore froze.

"Those were your words. The day you held my doljabi."

She let out a small laugh without meaning to. Then, as if angry at herself for laughing, she scrubbed at the corners of her eyes with the back of her hand.

"…That's cheating. Saving up someone else's words and recycling them now."

"Good words are meant to be recycled."

Kore plopped the flower she had been holding into my hand. Just as she always used to. A habit I had not seen in a long time.

I tucked the flower into my robes. Next to the inner pocket where the gold coin was.

So it had been impatience after all.

Being overtaken by every younger sibling—at that age, of course it would sting. And puberty on top of it. Even I, who had lived eons, still faintly remembered the impatience of that age.

Puberty from my human days. The most unfair and most urgent age in the world.

Even without a feast, I would have to come up now and then. That was what an adult was for. I was already rearranging the Underworld schedule in my head. I could put off the Cocytus inspection by a day.

"I'll tell Demeter everything's fine. That you're growing well with nothing to worry about. That you always have been."

As I stood I laid a light hand on Kore's head. The same way I had done since she was small. The head under my palm was much higher than before. Even so, the old habit came out unchanged.

Kore slowly looked up at me from under that hand.

"…I'm not a child anymore."

"I know."

I smiled.

"But you're still my niece."

The smile drained from Kore's face.