humans are a frustrating species.
you've never felt they're particularly useful, or have much importance at all, honestly. you'll exist with them, you'll exist without them--you've never needed to know why they do what they do, but you do. you know everything because that is simply who you are. thoth, the egyptian god of wisdom. your days are made up of writing and reading, creation and, in your legacy, you've created alphabets and full systems of communication. you give these things to the unworthy humans and watch as they tear themselves asunder.
its like bestowing intimate knowledge unto a hive of scarabs--or rather, its not, as the scarabs have at least common sense and a base knowledge of what to do and what not to do.
humans are violent and they are arrogant when they've no right to be. arrogance can come only to those that have the skills to back up such an attitude: someone like yourself. you are an arrogant god and you've made more enemies than friends in your infinite time in existence. you haven't really learned humility or modesty, but you have learned to keep to yourself. mostly you do as such because you don't find others worthy of your time. things progress this way for a long time until you begin to meet other gods.
zeus is the first, your oldest--dare you say it--friend. you're from two very different cultures and he is much younger than you are. you meet him when he's a child, or has the visage of one; gods don't grow and mature the same way humans seem to. however, he wasn't sprung full forth from his father without going through an adolescent period. he and his brother, hades, both go through this period until they find their proper ages, forms if you will, and settle into them. zeus takes over his father's position ruling the gods as time progresses.
you've never been a god that can be ruled by others and he knows this. he takes you on as something of an advisor, for you maintain knowledge that he'll never have. if he even has a fraction of the intelligence you possess, you'll be shocked.
being a god is simple. you are worshiped and adored, feared. the people of egypt set sacrifices in your name and you are ashamed to admit that you used to take them. you haven't always had a sense of humanity about you, its something you had to learn on your own. however, considering just who you are, you know it will come easily. the innate knowledge of why people do what they do, why humanity is as flawed as it is.
you'll be the first to admit that the gods are also flawed.
you are also flawed.
but your flaws don't lie, exactly, in your arrogance over your intelligence and the fact you know everything that there is to know. your flaws only develop from years and years of watching humans. you watch them tear each other apart, you watch wars and prejudice; death, murder, rape, racism. your disgust for humans comes from their filthy, selfless habits. the gods have waged war on one another, that much is true, and you've seen the future of a great many gods in your time. however, feuds between gods are settled, usually, without much bloodshed.
humans are so quick to cast one another out, they're so quick to start wars in the name of the holy. for revenge. just because they can. never once does any human being stop to ask themselves whether or not they should.
you do, however, see all the good that humans can do. they still just feel like ants on the feeble surface of their fragile earth. but you know that they can do good and, for a long time, you have faith that good will prevail. your earliest transgression is that you're optimistic. you do not interfere with the dealings of humans, and you see them grow and develop at an alarming rate--it feels like just the blink of an eye to you.
what you also see is how certain gods grow more and more distant from humanity. you, too, believe you're above them, sometimes you even hate them, but you know a god would be nothing without the humans that trust in them. while your culture is a dying art, you won't cease to be even if humans don't believe in you anymore. you've solidified your role in mythology, so have the others, but they don't know even half of what you know. they don't know what zeus knows.
if the gods don't learn how to be human, how to love like a human, there is no saving them.
you've seen apollo's fate, seen how zeus has agonized over it, and its because of this that you agree to gather those gods that have yet to embrace the plight of being mortal. you've already faced the pain of being mortal, time and time again, walking through the streets of an ancient cairo, of paris, of tokyo. you've traveled the world and met mortals that have meant more to you than you're willing to admit.
your second, and greatest, transgression is that you care just too much.
there was a time where you'd have considered yourself open, free, emotional, even. you know you shouldn't get attached to humans, but there are some that are so endearing its hard not to. the change is gradual, doesn't truly happen until zeus opens the lyceum--or rather, forms the lyceum--and you're introduced to dozens of humans in the hopes that they'll teach the gods about love and being human.
you think zeus is right to consider himself a student, for as long as you've known him, you've never known him to be particularly sympathetic to mortals. he's made great strides, but he had a long way to go when he first opened the lyceum. amongst the students are his brother, hades, his son, apollo, and a slew of other gods you've known for millennia--loki, balder, thor, tsukito, totsuka, dionysus, and, finally, your anubis.
you call him "yours" because you've always considered him a son. the small, jackal-headed god anubis is so much younger than you, older than the others, but you'd taken him under your wing from the first day you saw him. you're the only one that can interpret what he says, you're the only one that understands his hatred for humans--and gods alike, most days.
seeing him flourish makes your heart ache; you realize it must be how zeus must feel, seeing apollo's shining face. (only you've no threat of anubis slaughtering entire civilizations.)
dozens of human mentors come and go from the lyceum and, still, the hourglass of time ticks on. the unruly gods don't learn how to be human, they don't learn a thing about love, and it seems hopeless. that faith you'd held slowly dwindles and, if anubis notices, he doesn't mention it. in the hundreds of years you and zeus keep resetting time, wiping memories, it just gets harder and harder. and that's when you decide its not worth it to be caring, to be kind. there's no reason for you to make friends with the humans that come through because none will stick around.
there's bitterness there because you've made the great mistake of letting some of them in too close to your heart. it makes their failure all the more painful for you. you're forced to wipe their memories and send them home and any of the times you'd shared with them are lost forever. there's no use in opening yourself up anymore, so you affect to be cold, callous, and distinctly to the point. not getting to know them, whatever they may be about, there's no use in it.
by the time yui kusanagi comes around you've given up on all zeus' ideals. he promises she'll be the last and then the lyceum is closed forever. you're never sure if he means it, he says it almost every time.
when she arrives she is no different. you treat her as coldly as the others, continue to teach classes, and do what you can to push her away. even if it means being as loathsome as can be. but its strange to see the others opening up to her so easily. she gets the problem gods to participate, she gets them to admit to themselves the things they've been missing. never before has a human gotten so many gods to graduate before.
even your anubis meets the requirements to graduate; you feel nothing but proud of him. to see him amongst the others, to see him wanting to be part of their makeshift family is nothing short of astonishing. you've not the heart to ask if, you too, can be part of their family because you know how this will end. apollo can't let go of the trauma that holds him and, because you know everything there is to know, you don't bother getting close to her. it'd hurt too much when she left--she feels like a daughter, albeit annoying and much too bubbly.
she never asks why you don't need to learn how to be human. she doesn't ask why you don't need to learn to love. you are thankful for that.
her failure is imminent.
zeus' last ditch attempt before reverting the sand in the hourglass back to the beginning is to beg her to see him too. for a fraction of a second, you feel like you've been wrong about her the whole time. you've always know there are good people in the world, you've met so many of them, but you've all been doing this for so long that you never expected this one, this annoying girl, to be the one to end it. but there's still hurt in store for you when she asks for her memories to be erased.
she's done it and everyone is thankful for it; you know they all feel the same kind of hurt that you do. there's nothing you can do but honor her request--she deserves that much. humans are a troublesome, frustrating species. enduring hate and disaster, the loss of those important to them, trying to make it day to day, and doing so with gusto. they persevere and they survive. they're destined to be around for many years to come, despite how much pain they experience, no matter how terrible they are to one another. you've seen the good, you live for the good, for knowing that there are those that want nothing more than to end war, suffering, spread peace and love. the strongest human emotion you've seen is hope and it overcomes.
maybe, you think, being human isn't so bad.