Part One
“Even the King of the Underworld Dies?”
“Only the Dispatch Division and the Rebirth Division go in and out of the King of the Underworld’s chambers, right? Have you heard anything?”
Makino asked.
“Nothing beyond what everyone already knows,” someone replied. “But the current King of the Underworld has been on duty for about two hundred years now.”
“What? The King of the Underworld changes?”
All three of them exclaimed in surprise.
“Yeah. Apparently, one day a sudden appointment order arrives, and that person becomes the new King of the Underworld. I heard the current one took over after the previous king died.”
“The King of the Underworld can die?”
Makino’s eyes widened.
“Seems so. I don’t know the details, but it’s certain they live much longer than humans. He knows a lot about the old days, too. He chats happily with old Gen.
When you think about it, the King of the Underworld has it rough — wandering around the underworld is about the only enjoyment he gets.”
“Really? I only caught a glimpse of him when I was appointed, so I don’t really know what he looks like.”
“I don’t either,” Makino said, exchanging glances with Saki.
“Other than the horns, I’d say he’s a pretty handsome old man — you know, a ‘silver fox.’”
“Eh~ I wanna see him!”
“Yeah, me too!”
Both of them chimed in.
“If you’re in the underworld, you might run into him. He pops in and out from time to time.”
“Seriously?”
Makino frowned suspiciously.
“By the way,” he continued, “that Nitta guy from the Rebirth Division — he used to be a super-famous actor, right? Isn’t it risky for him to wander around the human world?”
Two years earlier, a twenty-seven-year-old popular actor had died — a huge incident.
An obsessed fan slipped past security and hugged Nitta. Other fans followed like dominoes, and in the chaos, Nitta was crushed beneath them and died.
“That case was a big topic even in the underworld, wasn’t it? I never thought he would end up as a special case.”
“Normally, even if we run into people we knew, we’ve got a shield so they won’t recognize us. But sometimes, a really devoted fan can break through that barrier. That’s why Nitta was assigned to the Rebirth Division — they don’t spend much time in the human world.”
The Rebirth Division’s job is to take souls brought from the Erasure Division, seal them in urns for rebirth, and deliver them to the King of the Underworld.
Depending on how many times a soul has been rewritten, it’s sorted into different categories — new or old.
So except for helping with special cases, the Rebirth Division rarely descends to the human world.
“Must be tough being popular,” Makino said, leaning on his elbow.
“Who’s popular?”
“Huh?”
The four of them turned around.
“Well, speak of the devil — if it isn’t the handsome Nitta himself,”
Tadokoro said, pulling out a chair and motioning for him to sit.
“Always a sight for sore eyes,” Saki said cheerfully. “In the underworld, they say, number one is Nitta, number two is Mukai.”
“What about me?” Makino pointed to himself.
“Have you seen your own face in a mirror?”
“Che…” he pouted.
“Anyway, this is rare. Nitta, you don’t usually drop by a place like this.”
“It’s Mukai’s fault,” Nitta said with a sigh. “The King of the Underworld is staying up all night waiting for that magazine he wants. And the big shots in the special room are all furious, yelling at the reapers, demanding to know where Mukai is. The atmosphere’s tense.”
“Hahaha. Guess patience fades with age,” Mukai chuckled. “I’ll go back after this drink. Since you’re here, Nitta, have one too.”
“Of course. It’s been ages since I’ve been down here — I’m definitely drinking.”
Nitta ordered a chuhai.
“Hard to believe, out of only twelve special cases, five of us are gathered here,” Tadokoro remarked.
“Not five,” someone said. “Six.”
“Huh?”
They turned toward the voice.
A small, sharp-eyed young man stood there. He looked like a boy, but vanished from sight for a second before slipping easily into the tavern.
“Oh, Adachi,” Tadokoro said. “Heading home from work?”
Adachi grabbed a chair from the next table and wedged himself between Mukai and Makino. Being closest in age, he often butted heads with Makino.
“I’m still your senior, Adachi,” Makino said with a smirk. “No need to get all worked up.”
“…”
Adachi stayed silent and took a sip of the chuhai the waiter had brought.
He clearly wasn’t good with alcohol, but he seemed determined not to lose to Makino. His face twisted as he swallowed, making Mukai and the others laugh.
Nitta chuckled helplessly and placed another order.
Adachi had died at sixteen — the youngest among the special cases.
He still looked like a boy, giving off an otherworldly presence.
Around his head was a ring invisible to humans, like the tightening band worn by Sun Wukong, the Monkey King.
Mukai turned to him.
“I heard you guided a lot of stray spirits this morning. That was a big help.”
“…Yeah.”
“When someone thanks you, you’re supposed to say ‘you’re welcome’!”
Saki smacked Adachi’s head with a loud bonk!
“…”
Adachi said nothing, just rubbed his head where she’d hit him.
