Chapter 14 Nikai
Nikai
The spirit trail of the dying star had given Nikai hope he didn’t dare feel. After seeking his King for so long, each disappointment
felt more bitter than the previous. But his trip to the mortal realm last night lit a new fire in him. He’d returned to the
underworld, thoughts whirring for sleepless hours as he dissected what he had witnessed between two teenagers. It was an impossibility
that convinced him that impossibilities were merely a lack of imagination, and that this new lead he’d stumbled upon might
just be the game changer.
A wild theory had sprung in his head, one so irreverent it was almost blasphemous. Nikai knew he had to be certain before he could reveal it to anyone else. He needed to investigate one of the teenagers before taking the next step.
But first, he needed to find his new boss.
Nikai’s left eye twitched from fatigue as he sprinted. He tapped his security card, listening to the zap-zap of doors opening and closing as he slid through. Traveling through Hell required a firm head and a steady stomach, and it
had taken Nikai a while to get the hang of it when he was first brought here by Four. The souls had no reason to leave their
assigned Court, but the Reapers and other staff commuted regularly.
Hell’s architecture was complex: the Ten Courts sprawled out like kingdoms of their own, but some parts were interconnected
in different ways. Not too long ago, Nikai had wandered into a gallery in the human realm and gotten enamored with a piece
of art. The artist had drawn impossible stairs that went nowhere and everywhere, humanoid figures walking on floors and walls
and ceilings, windows that opened to unexpected perspectives. Relativity. That was the title of the lithograph. It had reminded Nikai of the underworld.
“Hey, Nikai, where are you rushing to?” a Sixth Court Reaper juggling a stack of files asked as he sped by her.
“Back to the human world,” Nikai panted.
“Are you taking the shortcut to the Gates? They haven’t fixed the pits yet—watch out for fires.”
“Thanks!” he yelled over his shoulder.
At the next corner, he turned sharply and placed his palm on an arched mirror. The glass transformed into liquid, pulling
him in and spitting him out on the other side. He tripped, then caught himself, brushing the soot from his navy jacket, glad
to have escaped the pits with only a singed eyebrow.
The Gates of Hell stood before him, pearlescent onyx and tall as mountains. Once intimidating, they were now a familiar sight.
Nikai centered himself. The trip from the underworld to the human realm was like the drop in a very high roller-coaster ride,
and he found it nauseating.
Bracing, he tapped his card, walked through, and appeared in an alley.
Nikai gave his stomach a few seconds to settle as he breathed in the mortal realm’s iridescent air. Squinting in morning light
that felt too bright for his otherworldly eyes, he walked out into the street. His invisibility veil wasn’t up; it required
too much energy to sustain it when he wasn’t on soul collection duty. But even with his peacock-blue hair, he passed so easily
for a human that no one gave him a second look.
The humans were going about their daily business as usual, oblivious that a Reaper was walking beside them. No mortal—not
even the Exorcists—knew about the actual existence of the underworld. Sure, humans had their superstitions, their death rituals
and inherited customs. But based on his soul collection experiences, Nikai knew they were always shocked to discover that
Hell was real.
Unsurprisingly, the humans were also oblivious to the danger Four’s absence had put them in.
As the underworld faded, consumed by the Nothing, the barrier between the realms weakened.
The Blight became more infectious, and it was harder for Reapers to guard the souls they were collecting.
More were turning into Revenants. Things looked fine now as Nikai walked in the bright sunshine, but he knew there would come a day when the Exorcists would no longer be sufficient defense for this world.
All the more reason to find Four.
Nikai stopped in front of Gojo’s Café, his pulse speeding up as he thought about what he was about to do. With a quick exhale,
he neatened his suit and stepped in.
The Tenth King was easy to spot.
He was sunlight glistening in a pool of blood. His flaxen hair shimmered as he brushed his long ponytail off slim shoulders
that were accentuated by a formfitting red hanfu with intricate embroidery. Black leather straps crisscrossed his narrow torso,
cinched at the waist with metal buckles. His face was a perfectly chiseled heart, lips full and red like ripe cherries. Dark
lashes framed his doe-like eyes, his deep brown irises flecked with gold, and a wash of terra-cotta-red eye shadow and a pop
of glitter decorated his lids.
He sat in the corner, stripping off a pair of half-palm leather gloves. The delicate grace of his movements reminded Nikai
of a fairy-tale princess who needed rescuing—if that princess had a penchant for biting off the head of every suitor who sought
her company.
At this early hour, the only human in the café was the orange-haired boy at the counter reading manga. The music from his
headphones was blasting so loudly Nikai could hear it.
Nikai greeted Ten with a bow. “My apologies for disturbing you, Your Majesty, but I come with an urgent and important request.”
Ten sucked the last tapioca ball in his tea through an oversized straw and chewed it slowly, staring at Nikai as if he were
contemplating the universe or, perhaps, a little murder. He held up a crooked finger. The trail of red polish on his nail
made it look like his finger was bleeding.
The orange-haired boy at the counter glanced up, lifting his headphones. “Another cup of the usual—iced oolong tea, no sugar, extra bubbles?”
Ten nodded.
The boy put his headphones back on and disappeared into the kitchen. Nikai longed for some five-spice popcorn chicken himself,
but that could wait.
“Hello, Reaper,” Ten said, finally acknowledging him. “I was enjoying some alone time. Pray tell, what is so urgent that you
could not wait for my return?”
Nikai sat on the plasticky chair across from him. “I need to use the Darkroom in the Archives, and since you’re the regent
of the Fourth Court, I require your approval on the paperwork.”
“The Darkroom is not a place for Reapers. I see no reason for you to visit it,” Ten said, his languid manner unchanging.
“But I wish to look into the birth story of a living human,” Nikai said, “and the Darkroom is the only place that allows me
to do so.”
“A living human?” Ten’s pretty eyes glinted. “Tell me more.”
“I followed the spirit trail of a dying star last night to a park in the human realm, where I encountered a Revenant attacking
two teenagers—a boy and a girl. The creature was eventually killed. The girl is a cadet at the Exorcist academy and—”
“Exorcist cadets are trained to kill Revenants. How is this out of the ordinary?” Ten cut in, looking thoroughly unimpressed.
“Why are you interested in such mundane things, Reaper? It is unbecoming.”
“Your Majesty, it was the boy who killed the Revenant. What’s more, he is a human without magic.”
“Why did you not start with that? I adore plot twists.” Ten clasped his hands in delight. “So you are curious about the boy?” When Nikai nodded, Ten shifted his head,
peering sideways at Nikai as if he knew the Reaper was holding something back. “Why?”
“I saw the cadet casting a spell,” Nikai replied, his heart pressed against his rib cage as he recalled what he’d seen. “Her spiritual energy was transferred to the boy, and he was able to use it to wield her weapon immediately—he was able to do magic.”
“How can that be? You said the boy is a—what is that word?” Ten knitted his brow.
“I believe he is called a normie in the present era of human terminology, Your Majesty.” Nikai prided himself in keeping up with the times and the casual
language of the youths.
“I suppose it is interesting that this normie survived the ordeal,” Ten said, “but it is interesting in the way a new bubble
tea flavor is interesting for only the first sip. Why are you wasting your time on the petty lives of humans, Reaper?” Ten
turned to the group of small children playing at a park across the street. Their laughter carried into the café. “Look at
them,” he said softly, as if to himself. “Look at these humans, going about their meaningless little lives, finding joy in
the silliest of things.”
Nikai was thrown by his expression. He’d never seen the Tenth King look so wistful.
But Ten snapped out of it quickly enough. He tutted, examining his nails, condescension returning as he said to Nikai, “I
advise you to stay away from the Archives and the Darkroom, Reaper, lest you be tempted. No, I will not help you with the
paperwork.”
It had been a long shot, but it was the only shot Nikai had. He refused to give up. He knew Ten wanted to be rid of the burden
of overseeing the Fourth Court. Only Four’s return could guarantee that. And with the Tenth Court in heightened danger because
of the Nothing, Ten might just be the only King who would entertain Nikai’s wild theory.
“I must enter the Darkroom because this may be connected to Four,” he blurted.
“Explain yourself,” Ten said, suddenly alert.
“We know Four still exists because the Kings are eternal. But what if we’ve been wrong about everything else? What if Four
isn’t in the underworld but here? Four told me he wanted to see the stars forever. It didn’t occur to me then, but now, I think what he meant was he wanted
to see the stars from the human realm.”
“Here? Among these plebeians?” Ten scoffed. “I want my brother back more than you do, Reaper. But I do not delude myself with ridiculous speculation. Besides, he cannot exist in the human realm permanently. His power tethers him to the underworld. Like you and I, he is bound.”