Part One
Even the Dead Enjoy a Drink After Work
When they entered their usual izakaya,
the three of them began to unwind from the day’s fatigue.
It was an old-fashioned place,
full of all kinds of customers,
though not the kind of young people who were chasing trends.
“Ahh, that’s good.”
Makino grabbed a piece of fried chicken
and gulped down his beer.
“If I could go back in time,
I’d tell my past self
not to walk through that park.”
“Hahaha.”
Mukai laughed, drained his beer, and called out to the waiter.
“Excuse me! Two more drafts over here.”
He handed over the order card.
“By the way,” Tadokoro said,
“did you know that over 1.1 million people die in this country every year?”
“Seriously?”
Makino’s voice rose in surprise.
“It’s true. Everyone dies eventually — just their time.
But the section chief said we were lucky —
we hit the jackpot by becoming a special case.”
Even among those special cases,
souls branded as irreparable because of their deeds in life
were never summoned to the Investigation Office.
So maybe being chosen as a special case
was, in a strange way… really just luck?
“That kind of luck’s nothing to celebrate after you’re dead.”
“Come to think of it,” Tadokoro added,
“there wasn’t a red lamp for a special case
on the death board today.”
He took the beers from the waiter.
“You check that every day?”
“Of course.
If we don’t get new staff once in a while,
even the dead will collapse from overwork.
Death by overwork, for the dead — imagine that.”
As they talked,
a slender woman in her late twenties entered the bar,
leading a small oni (demon) by the hand.
“Ah, I knew I’d find you guys here.
You sure it’s okay to be slacking off?
Anyway, here — this demon I found. Makino, it’s yours.”
“That’s the Death Division’s jurisdiction.
You take it, Saki.”
The short-haired woman, Saki,
pulled the little oni along and sat down.
Filling out an order card, she called to the waiter:
“Oh, one draft for me too!
And a sashimi platter, please.”
“Don’t just sit down like you own the place.”
“Oh, come on.
You’re younger than me, Makino.
Show some respect to your senior.”
Saki worked in the Delivery Division.
Earlier that day,
a man had jumped from a building to kill himself —
he survived,
but Saki was crushed beneath him and died instantly.
She was supposed to have had forty-two years left.
“Should you really be slacking off here?”
“Relax. While I’m down here,
Makiko’s covering for me in Delivery.”
“See?
Here’s someone making a senior do double shifts,”
Makino said, pointing at Saki.
“Now, now, calm down,” Tadokoro chuckled.
“So what’s with the little oni?” Mukai asked.
“There was an evil spirit trying to possess this kid nearby.
I felt bad, so I saved it — and it just started following me.
I dispersed the spirit for now.”
“Ugh… dispersing spirits makes them harder to collect later, you know.”
“Well, I didn’t have any seals on me,
so I couldn’t exorcise it properly,”
Saki said, popping a skewer of fried cutlet into her mouth.
“So that evil spirit was one of your leftovers, Makino…
Looks like you’ve got some explaining to do,”
Tadokoro said, munching on edamame.
“The kid’s small — probably hasn’t been a yokai for long.”
“It’s terrified, too.
If I leave it alone, it’ll probably fade away soon.
So I figured I’d leave it with Makino.
You and Mukai are the only ones here
directly connected to the Death Division, right?
It might take time since it’s a young oni,
but once it grows up,
it could actually help with your work.
Why not file a permit with the Death Division?”
“Huh… makes sense. Guess I’ll do that,”
Makino said, looking at the little oni.
The Death Division was the department
where the underlings of the King of the Underworld —
the so-called Shinigami — worked.
When danger was detected,
or when Mukai’s Dispatch Division required possession cases,
these agents would descend to the human world.
Unlike special cases like themselves,
they were true residents of the underworld.
