It started with a letter. A letter, to be specific, sealed in dark, dripping wax that looked suspiciously like… blood? Who else but Akuma, the Demon King himself, would go that extra mile to make sure his letter screamed I'm evil, boo!? The envelope even smelled like brimstone and stale cabbage. Real classy, Akuma. Real classy.
Anyway, as I sat there on the temple steps, letter in hand, Hiyori looked over my shoulder with a healthy dose of skepticism. "You're really going to read that?"
"Of course I am!" I chirped, grinning like a maniac. "Could be the invite of the century!"
The others gathered around: Fukuhara with his eternally dubious scowl, Koyasu the ghost with his bored shrug, and Soseki, who kept inching further away like the letter might bite him. Mikaboshi sat cross-legged beside me, eyes glinting with excitement. She loved chaos, and an invite from Akuma practically screamed chaos.
I broke the seal and cleared my throat.
"To Y/N, God of Reality, and your motley crew,
I cordially invite you all to dine with me, my beloved wives, and my delightful children in the Underworld. Dinner is at 7:00 PM sharp, mortal time. Don't be late. Or do—either way, I win.
Sincerely,
Akuma, the Demon King of All You Love to Hate
"P.S. Don't forget to dress up. We're not animals down here. Or are we? You'll find out."**
I finished reading and couldn't help but burst into laughter. "Oh, this is going to be fantastic!"
Fukuhara grunted. "You're seriously considering going?"
"Well, duh! It's a dinner invite from the Demon King! You don't pass that up!" I stood up, dusted off my hakama, and spread my arms out. "Besides, it's been ages since I've been to the Underworld. What could possibly go wrong?"
Hiyori facepalmed. "Everything. Literally everything could go wrong."
But, as the God of Reality—and more importantly, as a sucker for weird invitations—I couldn't resist. So, a few hours later, dressed in what I'd describe as "Underworld chic," we set off for the portal.
---
Arrival in the Underworld
"Welcome, welcome!" Akuma's voice boomed, resonating through the cavernous hall that, to his credit, was decked out in full infernal splendor. Columns of twisted obsidian, rivers of lava, and chandeliers made from giant bones suspended overhead.
He sat at the head of a table long enough to rival any medieval feast. Dressed in a dark, flowing robe with his signature wicked grin, he looked every bit the classic villain. His red eyes glinted with a particular brand of mischief, like he was one bad joke away from a maniacal laugh.
"Ah, Y/N! My favorite God of Reality," he said, lips curling into a smile that made his sharp fangs all the more visible. "And you brought the whole gang. How delightful!"
I sauntered up to him, giving him a mock salute. "Akuma, my guy! Thanks for the invite. Love the whole ominous death banquet vibe. Very homey."
"Why, thank you," Akuma said, smirking. "I redecorated just for the occasion."
Before I could reply, the rest of his family shuffled into the room, one by one.
Akuma's wives were a sight to behold. There was Onna, the Witch of Woe, draped in shadowy rags that billowed around her as she glared at us with blood-red eyes; Mei, a demonic warrior with a spiked club slung over her shoulder, wearing a dress that looked like it was sewn from shadows; Kasumi, a fox demon with golden eyes and a tail that flickered like fire; and finally, Rika, who gave off the vibe of a kindly, middle-aged woman who'd make you soup but probably poison it for kicks.
"Oh, new guests!" Rika said, giving a very un-demonic smile. "How wonderful!"
The children filed in, too—all eleven of them, ranging from toddler demons to brooding teenagers with spiky hair, ominous eyes, and various monster features. One kid had three eyes. Another had scales. One just straight-up growled at me.
"Wow," I muttered to Hiyori, eyes widening. "That's a lot of little devils."
"No kidding," she replied, crossing her arms. "I think we should keep our distance."
Once we were all seated—Akuma insisted I sit right next to him, the most "honored" position—the first course was brought out by shadowy servants with empty eyes. A roasted… something. I didn't want to ask.
"So," Akuma began, as if we were old friends catching up. "What's new in the land of the living?"
"Oh, you know, the usual," I said, waving my hand casually. "Mortals fighting over who gets to rule what, a couple of natural disasters, and way too much of that TikTok thing."
Akuma chuckled, low and deep. "Yes, humanity is always so amusingly fragile. But we demons are still here, still enjoying the good old chaos of the world."
"Cheers to that!" I raised a glass, filled with what I hoped was grape juice, and clinked it with Akuma's. "So tell me, what's it like raising this whole demon family?"
Akuma gave a wistful sigh, patting the hand of Rika, who sat beside him, a smile on her lips that was anything but sweet. "Oh, it's wonderful. I mean, I get to ruin their lives every day. Just yesterday, I convinced little Hiro here that if he didn't clean his room, his soul would be turned into a fly for eternity."
Hiro, one of Akuma's smaller kids, looked down at his plate, shivering.
"That's… an interesting parenting style," Hiyori said, cautiously.
"Why, thank you," Akuma said, beaming. "I find it builds character."
The meal progressed in typical underworld fashion, which is to say, every dish looked like it was probably cursed. Soseki poked at a bowl of soup that stared back at him, while Koyasu shrugged and drank what looked like a thick, glowing liquid from a goblet with a nonchalant "Eh, I've had worse."
As we moved on to what I could only assume was dessert—a tar-black pudding that looked like it could bite back—Akuma leaned close to me, an unsettling gleam in his eye.
"So, Y/N," he whispered, his voice oozing menace, "tell me. How's it feel to be a God with so little purpose? Just floating around, pretending to care about mortals, when we both know it's just a game?"
For a moment, he looked genuinely unhinged, his smile widening like a cheshire cat. "And don't lie to me, Y/N. You don't have the guts for that."
I blinked, caught off guard, and chuckled nervously. "Whoa, Akuma, I came here for the food, not an existential crisis."
He laughed, a high, mad cackle that echoed through the chamber, sending a shiver down my spine. "That's the difference between us, Y/N. I embrace my role. I live to torment, to cause chaos. You? You're just a fool with a fancy title and nothing to show for it."
Fukuhara glared at Akuma, but I put a hand up, signaling him to relax. I wasn't going to let Akuma get under my skin. After all, I was the God of Reality—nothing could break my cool. I straightened up, giving him my best cartoonish grin.
"You're right, Akuma," I said, loudly and cheerfully. "I am a fool with a title. But I'll tell you something." I leaned in close, matching his grin. "I wouldn't trade that for all the evil in the world. Besides, someone has to make sure you don't have too much fun."
For a split second, Akuma looked genuinely surprised. Then he laughed, a deep, echoing sound that rattled the bone chandeliers overhead. "Oh, Y/N, you truly are a unique annoyance. But that's why I invited you."
With that, the tension broke. Akuma raised a goblet, his wives following suit, and we toasted… well, something. Friendship? Rivalry? The line between them was as blurry as the Underworld's rules on appetizers.
By the end of the night, even the Demon King's kids were warming up to us—kind of. One of them tried to steal Mikaboshi's hair ribbon, which led to her chasing him around the table, while Hiyori gave Akuma's wife, Mei, a stare-down in what I could only assume was some kind of fox-spirit rivalry.
When we finally left the Underworld, our clothes smelled like sulfur and questionable soup, and my hair had somehow acquired a singed streak down the middle. Soseki groaned, clutching his stomach, and muttered, "I'm pretty sure I just ate something alive."
Hiyori dusted herself off, eyeing the portal back to Kyoto with sheer relief. "Next time, Y/N, let's stick to dinner on Earth. Somewhere that serves real food."
"Oh, but what's the fun in that?" I said, grinning. "Besides, how often do you get to say you've had dinner with a Demon King and lived to tell the tale?"
As we stepped back into Kyoto's fresh air, I couldn't help but laugh. Dinner with Akuma had been a wild, twisted mess—but, oddly enough, it was a night we'd never forget.