Chapter 1 Nikai
Nikai
Earlier that night
Nikai’s stomach started to growl as he thought about the meal he was planning to eat at Kuu Bar after work: warm rice, pickled
vegetables, and a crispy pork cutlet deep-fried to golden perfection. There was food back in the underworld, but it wasn’t
as good as what one could find in the human realm.
His stomach grumbled again, but he ignored it. It was best to look like he was doing his job. Dressed in pristine white suits,
the other Reapers of the Fourth Court were hovering around the pile of distorted metal stretching across one of the expressways
of the human city. The aftermath of the thirteen-vehicle pileup had summoned them, and they were counting casualties like
good worker bees.
Nikai, however, was Head Reaper, which allowed for privileges such as daydreaming about food. But he wouldn’t get to eat that coveted meal unless
he hurried the task along.
He surveyed the scene. Shattered glass caught the light of the streetlamps, and the scent of burning rubber had a base note
of human blood. Sounds of human pain assailed his ears. With a calm exhale, he let it all slide past him.
As he watched, the human survivors began to pull themselves from the wreckage. He wasn’t worried about them. Over the years,
he’d learned to focus on the dead rather than the living—they couldn’t see him anyway. Time, however, was his concern. The Reapers had to collect the souls immediately, for the Blight could appear at any time. Drawn by the negative
energy of newly departed souls, the supernatural virus infected them, turning them into vicious monsters.
Nikai knew his team had to hurry. He approached a new Reaper who had just joined his team. She was a bespectacled young woman with an enthusiastic manner about her. He wondered how she’d become a Reaper, but he knew better than to ask.
“You should read the death notes tonight,” he said. “You need the experience.”
“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” The new Reaper clicked her heels together, taking the tablet from him. She pursed her lips, sifting
through the death notes with her stylus. Each slide had a photograph of a person, their name, a time of death, and a cause
of death.
Nikai remembered a time when death notes were actual pieces of paper the size of poker cards. He was new and wide-eyed then,
eager to do his job right, just like this Reaper beside him. But as the centuries went by, simultaneously slower and faster
than expected, the work became grimmer and grimmer.
Probably why we’re called grim reapers, Nikai thought wryly. He hated the word reaper. It sounded like they were harvesting the living, waiting until they were ripe before hacking away at their lives. In truth,
a Reaper’s job was to guide souls into the afterlife, where they would reside in one of the Ten Courts of Hell until their individual cycle of reincarnation
was up.
Ushering. That was a better term. Nikai was an usher, not a reaper. Ushering made more sense. Ushering was kinder. Although tonight,
ushering was downright bleak.
Of the fifteen souls that needed to be collected tonight, six were children.
Adult souls were a pain. Filled with feelings of regret and rage and sorrow, they argued and pleaded and cried and screamed.
Because of this, most Reapers preferred collecting the souls of children. But Nikai would rather take the souls of a hundred
adults over a child’s any day.
A flicker in his peripheral view drew his attention.
A young man with silvery-white hair had appeared from nowhere.
The new Reaper fumbled her stylus. “Y-Your Majesty,” she said, lowering her head.
Nikai assumed she hadn’t seen any of the Kings this close before.
He hadn’t expected the Fourth King to drop by either.
The Kings had better things to do than carry out the menial labor of collecting the souls of the dead.
Instinctively, Nikai straightened his tie.
Four was all about making a good impression; thankfully, Nikai had worn his sharpest all-black Head Reaper suit tonight.
“Greetings, Four,” he said, smiling at his boss.
The new Reaper’s eyes darted between them, no doubt surprised to see King and Reaper on such informal terms.
Nikai’s chest swelled with pride. A hierarchy would always divide them, but Four saw him as a friend, and that was enough.
Four had found him, a lost soul destined to wander in limbo for eternity with no chance for redemption or reincarnation. He’d
given Nikai a purpose. A home. Four was his friend. His family.
Four nodded back absently. He was staring hard at the wreckage in front of them. A mysterious crease had notched itself between
his dark brows, too faint for a passing observer to detect, but Nikai knew his friend well. Four was troubled, and he seemed
to be waiting for something—or someone. But who else could be coming here?
There was another flicker, and the King of the First Court appeared.
One’s stiletto heels clicked sharply on the tarmac, the sound echoing in Nikai’s ears even as sirens pierced the night. The
patent fuchsia of One’s shoes matched their bright pink lips, both pops of color vibrant against an emerald pantsuit that
accentuated their curves and edges. A single jewel shaped like a dewdrop hung around their neck, catching Nikai’s eye as it
flashed an impossible spectrum of colors. Their pixie haircut was ironic; One was hardly a delicate fairy.
Nikai’s peacock-blue hair flopped down as he bowed low to the First King.
Next to him, the new Reaper’s breaths grew short.
Meeting two Kings in one night—no wonder she looked like she was about to pass out.
Already the air around them felt heavier, darker somehow, as if someone had thrown a blanket over a lamp.
Nikai knew it was the two Kings’ spiritual pressure that was making it so.
The new Reaper squeaked, “Your Majesty.”
“Good evening to you both.” One’s smile was so radiant Nikai had to blink away.
His cheeks were burning. He was never able to meet One’s eyes directly, always blushing involuntarily as he did now. They
were, after all, the first of the Kings. They were beautiful. Intimidating, sure. Possibly even frightening. But beautiful nonetheless.
Four seemed unsurprised by One’s arrival. Was this who he was expecting? But instead of speaking to him, One walked over to
a blue taxi in the middle of the pileup and lowered themself to peer into the shattered windows.
Nikai’s thoughts of an easy evening and delicious dinner were slipping away. The Kings of Hell never showed up for soul collections.
Four’s arrival had interrupted the Reapers’ work, but at least it was the Fourth Court’s Reapers who were on the scene, and
he was their King. But for One to stop by as well? It made no sense. And with two Kings present, all Reapers were standing at attention
instead of doing their jobs. Time was ticking; the Blight could strike at any moment.
But One was still scrutinizing the taxi with narrowed eyes.
Curious, Nikai turned his attention there. The driver was alive, but Nikai sensed the gradual severance of a soul from another
mortal in there. The passenger was about to die.
But there was something else.
Another heartbeat. Another flutter of spiritual energy inside.
The new Reaper sensed it, too. “A baby,” she whispered.
That heartbeat was slowing as the feathery soul struggled inside its mortal body. But even as its tether was weakening, Nikai
could feel there was something different about that soul.
He was about to go closer when One gestured to Four. “A word, Brother,” they said, and walked to the side of the highway.
Four nodded at his Reapers. “Carry on with your work.” The Fourth Court Reapers inclined their heads briefly and went back to their duties. “Come with me,” he told Nikai, who followed obediently to where One was waiting.
One threw a questioning glance at him.
“You may speak freely in front of Nikai,” Four told them. His tone left no room for debate.
Nikai smiled reassuringly. He was discreet. As Head Reaper, he had to be. Though it felt like Four simply wanted him around now to annoy the other King.
“Why did you call for me?” Four asked.
“The soul of the woman in that taxi will leave her body soon, but since it has not been collected, it is not too late for
you to return it to her,” One replied.
Nikai swallowed his shock. It wasn’t his place to question any of the Kings, but what One was suggesting—saving the life of
the woman and thus, her unborn child—was absurd. Didn’t the ancient tenets forbid the Kings from interfering in human affairs?
Undisturbed by One’s request, Four was a picture of calm. “I have no reason to do anything,” he said, his grin crooked and
taunting.
Nikai stared at the shiny buckles of his well-polished shoes. He didn’t want to be caught up in a feud between Kings.
“I only need the woman for the birth of the child,” One said, “and it looks like that could happen in a matter of hours. You
can have her soul back after that. The timing will be of no difference to you and your Court.”
“If the child is meant to live, it will,” Four replied coolly. “Death is our dominion; life is not ours to give. You know this.” He brushed the lint off his coat, his smile widening to reveal his canines. But there
was no humor or amusement in it. “And as I was once told, the red threads of fate are not beholden to us.”
He’s upset, Nikai thought, seeing through Four’s smile. But it wasn’t anger Nikai sensed, but something closer to regret.
One’s expression softened. “No, Brother, fate does not owe us anything,” they said gently. “But I am here because there was
a sign from the skies tonight. Did you see the green light heading east? The spirit trail of a dying star has appeared, which
means an anomaly has occurred in the human realm. I followed that green light, and it pointed me here to this child. The child
may be valuable to the mortal realm, chosen for a greater purpose, and so, it must live.”
Four regarded the taxi.