The Mask of Normalcy

June 27, 2023 - Tokyo, Japan

The relentless Tokyo rain painted the city in slick, neon-streaked shades of gray. Inside a luxurious high-rise apartment in Shinjuku, the rhythmic drumming against the panoramic windows was drowned out by heated voices.

Hebrew: “Am I going to lose again?”

Kokushiro: “The pattern suggests it’s inevitable.”

Hebrew: “Tch! Losing to a human… it curdles my very essence.”

Kokushiro: “Your essence seems easily curdled. Maybe you should just get better.”

Slouched on a plush leather sofa, the man known as Kokushiro Akuma was a stark contrast to the boy who had vanished three years ago. At 6'5", his frame was a monument to brutal discipline—a terrifyingly athletic physique where every muscle was carved and defined, a testament to a hellish training regimen. A tattoo of a horrific, multi-limbed Oni crawled from his left forearm up over the deltoid of his shoulder, its maw seeming to snarl with his every slight movement. With fair skin and sharp, dangerously good looks, he was the picture of a man who had been meticulously remade.

He was currently throttling a video game controller, a cold smirk on his face as the demon across from him, Hebrew, grumbled in defeat.

Hebrew: “Is this the grand purpose of our pact? This… digital frivolity?”

Kokushiro: “State your point.”

Hebrew: “My point, you insufferable worm, is that we were forged for ruin and dominion! Not to waste away in this gilded cage while you play pretend!”

Kokushiro: “Careful. Your whining is louder than the rain. Or do you truly wish for me to find a more permanent way to silence you?” he said, his voice dropping to a lethal calm.

Hebrew: “You arrogant speck! You wield a power you barely comprehend and think it makes you my equal? You are a child playing with a star’s fire!”

Kokushiro: “And you are the one who gave me the match. You’ll choke on that regret one day.”

Hebrew: “By the abyss, why are we here? What is this insipid ‘purpose’ of yours?”

Kokushiro paused the game, the sudden silence making the rain outside seem like a siege. “Actually—”

Hebrew: “Do not utter that word to me! Have we spent these last ten months in this pathetic nation for nothing? While you scurry to your corporate leash?”

Kokushiro: “My ‘corporate leash’ at Kage no Tech is a perfect facade. I’ve built a life here, something you clearly fail to grasp. I’ve made progress.”

Hebrew: “Progress?!” the demon shrieked, his form flickering with rage. “You call this progress? Pushing papers in a cubicle like a neutered dog? Letting mortal fools command your days? We are a weapon, not a toy for mortal pleasures!”

Kokushiro: “We are not mindless beasts. I will not be led by your chaotic hunger. The last time I followed your ‘instincts,’ I was nearly discorporated.”

He speaks of mindless beasts, Hebrew thought, a gallery of grim memories flashing behind his eyes. Him—standing over a field of carnage, drenched in crimson, that same horrifying smile plastered on his face as he crushed a man’s skull like parchment. Him—tearing limbs from bodies with bare hands, the wet, ripping sounds drowned by his soft, manic laughter. This… this creature of nightmare, now preaching to me about restraint. The lie is so bold, it’s almost admirable.

Hebrew: “And yet you lived! Forged in true conflict! Not this… this simpering stillness! You demean our pact with this vulgar existence.”

Kokushiro: "This 'vulgar existence' is a strategy you are too brutish to understand." He sighed dramatically, slumping back against the sofa with an exaggerated pout. "And it raises a question that has plagued me since the beginning..." Kokushiro's eyes, cold and analytical, fixed on the seething shadow. Then, his expression suddenly shifted into a playful, mocking grin as he delivered the final blow in a singsong, teasing voice. "Why, in all the hells, did I get stuck with the most useless devil in existence~?"

He even winked, the gesture dripping with sarcastic charm, before throwing his hands up in a gesture of comic despair. "Seriously, what did I do to deserve this? I wanted a cool demon partner, not a grumpy old man who complains more than my grandma. This is just... disappointing." He finished with an exaggerated sigh, shaking his head sadly while peeking to see Hebrew's reaction.

The scene blurred into the evening, the city lights now glittering like fallen stars against the dark canvas of night. Hebrew’s furious ranting had become the evening’s background noise, a constant, grumbling stream of complaints about Kokushiro’s ingratitude, his laziness, and the profound insult of being called "useless."

Hebrew: “—and another thing! To be disrespected by a mortal who still doesn’t know how to properly channel nether-energy without getting a nosebleed! The audacity! The sheer, unmitigated gall!”

But his words fell on entertained ears. Kokushiro, having ordered a lavish spread of sushi, merely listened while popping a piece of otoro into his mouth, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter. Each fresh complaint from the demon only seemed to amuse him more. A soft chuckle escaped, then grew into a full-bellied laugh that made him set down his chopsticks.

Kokushiro: “Pfft… ahahaha! Oh, come on, that one was creative! ‘A glorified errand boy with a demonic accessory’? You’re getting better at this!”

Hebrew’s form flickered violently, a small wisp of smoke curling from his shadowy head. “I AM NOT TRYING TO BE ENTERTAINING, YOU INSOLENT BRAT!”

This only sent Kokushiro into another fit of laughter, him wiping a tear from his eye. “Your complaining is literally more fun than the game we were playing. Don’t stop now, tell me more about how I’m a ‘stain on the infernal legacy’!”

The rest of the night passed this way, with Hebrew’s indignant yelling providing the soundtrack to Kokushiro’s amusement, the devil’s rage only fueling the very mockery that had sparked it.

---

The next morning, sunlight streamed into the apartment. Kokushiro stood before a full-length mirror, meticulously adjusting the tie of his impeccably tailored suit. Hebrew materialized nearby, watching with profound boredom.

Hebrew: "All this effort... to go and pretend to be a cog in a machine. It is beneath us."

Kokushiro ignored him. The journey to the basement parking of his apartment was silent. He slid into his sleek, black sedan and pulled out into the Tokyo morning.

At a red light, his eyes fell on a small group of children. A faint smile touched his lips. He rolled down the window and offered them a box of expensive chocolates.

Kokushiro: "Here. For you."

The children's eyes widened. "Arigatou, onii-san!" one beamed. Their mother offered a grateful smile. "Oh, sumimasen! You're too kind."

As the window rolled up, Hebrew's voice dripped with sarcasm.

Hebrew: "What... was that? You, showing kindness to children... it's like watching a wolf tenderly groom a lamb. Who are you trying to fool?"

Kokushiro: "A perfect mask requires perfect details, Hebrew. Even predators need a convincing disguise."

At the gleaming headquarters of Kage no Tech, Kokushiro's demeanor became the picture of focused professionalism. His day was a mosaic of coding, mentoring, and corporate politeness. He patiently taught a junior developer, Kenji, how to fix a complex memory leak.

Kokushiro: "Inefficient code is a different kind of monster. It doesn't die, it just slows everything down until it collapses."

Later, in the breakroom, two female colleagues from the art department approached him.

Colleague 1: "Kokushiro-san, we brought mochi! Would you like one?"

Colleague 2: "You're always so serious, you should take a break more often!"

He accepted the sweet with a polite, slightly distant nod, his body language closed off and professional. He made no move to continue the conversation, his focus clearly elsewhere.

Kokushiro: "Thank you. The new character models you delivered are excellent. The texture work is exceptional."

The women, sensing his disinterest, offered brief smiles and moved away. Hebrew's voice, a silent whisper only he could hear, coiled in his mind.

Hebrew (in his mind): "So cold. You'd think a man with our appetites would have a different hunger."

Kokushiro took a slow sip of his tea, his expression not changing. Romance was a complication, a vulnerability. It had no place in the fortress he was building around himself.

He returned to his desk, the rest of the day dissolving into a familiar rhythm of code reviews, project planning, and strategic meetings. As evening fell and the office emptied out, Kokushiro remained at his station, the city lights beginning to glitter like scattered jewels against the darkening sky. The blue glow of his monitors reflected in his eyes, which now held a cold, calculating focus that had been carefully hidden beneath a veil of professionalism all day.

Hebrew (in his mind): "Are you satisfied? You've played the part of the dutiful wage-slave perfectly."

A slow, predatory smirk finally broke through Kokushiro's neutral expression, a stark contrast to the polite, distant smiles he had offered his colleagues.

Kokushiro (whispering to the empty room): "The mask is solid. Now... we wait for the real prey to step into the trap."