Chapter 16: A Rival

“Yuka?”

“Uh huh.”

“What do you do in your spare time?”

“Err—! What exactly do you mean, Lord Kuro?”

“You don’t stay with your parents. I’m not aware of you being involved with any kind of work. And, you have a tendency to… Well, you know what I mean.”

Yuka was seated with Kuro on his bed, both of them facing the television. An intense game of Street Brawlers was underway. The health bar of Yuka’s character was completely full. Kuro’s health bar, on the other hand, was basically a thin line of red.

He was on what gamers would refer to as “one tap.”

The clicks of buttons being mashed increased.

“W-well… ” Yuka didn’t take her eyes of the screen as she answered. “There’s this run-down block of flats, right? It’s somewhere in Nakano. Rent’s cheap—the landlord doesn’t pry. For work, I don’t need a job. But if I’m bored and I see something interesting, I might lend a hand to any humans in need of help.”

Kuro raised his right brow, eyes still glued to the screen. As he avoided attacks in the game, preserving his minuscule bar of health, he asked with a scrutiny filled voice, “You’d willingly lend a hand to humans…?”

“I never attack them—no matter how tempting—I swear. Your orders are absolute, and I’ll always follow them with my entire being!”

She saw Kuro furrow his brow with a look that clearly said, “Not buying it.”

So Yuka decided to change the direction of the topic.

“How’re things going on your end? The whole ‘living just like a human’ thing.”

“It’s going… Fine.”

A snicker from Yuka made Kuro elbow her.

“I’ve watched them go about their lives, and it’s pretty fun. Going about your day, watching it unfold before you… ” The image of the elderly woman crying passed through his mind. “Have you ever cried before, Yuka?”

“Pfft. Why would I want to cry? You’ve been interested in that for a long time now, and I can’t understand it. Why would a Demon cry? Isn’t that considered a sign of weakness among humans or something?”

“…...”

Yuka, who’d been solely focused on the game, had her mouth hanging open.

The very moment after she asked her last question, Kuro’s character landed a hit. And another, and another. These strings of attacks were only possible due to the immense dexterity with which Kuro moved his fingers across his controller.

It was so impressive, it was almost nonsensical.

That led to a whopping nine-hundred-and-ninety-nine hit combo that eviscerated Yuka’s health bar—was that even achievable?

Yuka, whose mouth hung agape, lowered her head and muttered, “Lord Kuro, I demand a rematch…”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Kuro and Yuka shared a glance at each other, before she rolled her eyes and Kuro got up to get the door.

For some reason best known to her, Yuka wandered off into the kitchen area, leaving Kuro alone with the door, and whoever was behind it.

With a sigh, Kuro twisted the doorknob—

—a spike was flying right at his forehead.

● ● ●

For something that should’ve been a surprise attack, Kuro snatched the spike before it could reach him with ease as if expecting it. He flexed his fist, and the object that seemed to be made of a mixture of concrete and asphalt flowed out of his hand like fine sand.

Shaking the dust on his hand off, he looked straight ahead to the figure staring him down from the other side of the road. Kuro smiled—

Thwack!

Kuro intercepted a fist aimed at his smiling face with his outstretched hand. The person on the offense grinned madly, resembling a wild animal baring its fangs.

“That’s an interesting way to greet someone you haven’t seen for some time.”

“Drop the act and fight, oh Great Demon King.”

Their arms were locked in a struggle. The foundations of the little apartment shivered. Kuro appraised his attacker who’d covered a considerable distance to throw a solid punch.

He had wild, maroon colored hair. A blood thirsty glint shone in his wine-colored eyes. His sharp features rivalled Kuro’s as they could easily be placed on the same scale of attractiveness.

His shirt was buttoned loosely and worn on top jeans with plain sneakers. There was a “rascally” feeling to him. If he often got into trouble, it wouldn’t be out of the ordinary.

“You’re as aggressive as ever, Homura.”

“And you’re as passive as ever, Kuro.”

Homura wrenched his fist away from Kuro’s grasp—a flurry of punches came right after.

Thwack! Thwack! Thwack!

Punches were intercepted, parried, and blocked. Each strike was so fast that the colliding fists created small-scale tempests inside the room.

But the amount of wind stirring was getting too strong to be just a consequence of their fists. The air around them seemed to move as if it was conscious, somehow. And the person the powerful winds pushed back was none other than Kuro.

The items laying around in his room were blown to the edges and corners. Kuro made a horizontal sweeping motion with his right hand, and the gust blew in the direction he moved—as if he had shoved the gale winds aside.

A clatter in the kitchen led to two pieces of cutlery—knives—zipping out of that area, toward Kuro. They glowed with a faint silver, indicating that they were possibly under the influence of magic.

They lunged at Kuro from various angles, and he dodged them with minimal movement, while he was still engaged with Homura.

Like a lit matchstick, Homura’s fist engulfed in red fire and he threw a jab at Kuro. But Kuro swatted the blazing fist like it was a mosquito and peeked over Homura’s shoulder to look at his door hanging wide open.

Homura didn’t know exactly why, but he felt a chill down his spine. Okay, he may have had an inkling why…

He knew Kuro’s plan for normalcy in human society. And he was going against something Kuro had very sternly warned him about—

Why would he care? He’d get to fight a being considered the pinnacle of his kind. What’s not to want?

The faint smile Kuro had been wearing all this time vanished. He shot his hands out, catching the two knives between his index and middle fingers.

He flicked them to the ground.

Homura wanted to get at least one good hit in. So, with his blazing hot fist, he charged at Kuro.

But…

Kuro grabbed not the fist, but the wrist of his arm with a vice grip—no, it was nothing like a vice grip. An inescapable black hole restrained him.

Then Kuro lifted his right arm high to the ceiling, his hand open and flat like a blade. He brought the chopping edge down in one fell swoop, right in the middle of Homura’s noggin.

The walls shook, and down went Homura, like a puppet without strings.

After the satisfying thud of his body collapsing to the floor, Yuka finally stuck her head out of the kitchen with a sigh.

● ● ●

Homura Arano, Yuka Enka, and Kuro Kurosu had quite a lot in common. For one, they were all Demons. But there was an ever deeper relation that existed between them.

They were part of a group of Demons known as: The Chosen.

Because the selection process for a new Demon King happened at random, there was no specific lineage for the position. Instead, there were at least a hundred or so families from which a Demon King had emerged.

Each of these families, and their descendants, were honored for having been granted the privilege of producing a Demon King. In some rare instances, like with Kuro, a single family could produce multiple Demon Kings over the course of time.

And because of that prestige, there existed a special form of solidarity among some of the members of this group.

While Kuro’s father was still the acting Demon King, there was a particular activity that the members of Demonkind partook in.

It was a sort of guessing game, with the objective being to figure out who could be the next potential Demon King.

Out of all the prospects from the younger generation, Homura Arano had it all. He possessed the attitude, the latent ability, and personality that would fit the role nicely.

Homura’s infamous aptitude spread so far, it earned him a nickname—something given to only the most elite.

The Elemental Maestro.

His command over the elements, coupled with him reaching Stage IV, was so profound it captivated all who witnessed. Be it fire, water, earth or air; even the metals, and rare minerals found buried in the earth’s crust—his control over them was unlike any other.

They all danced in perfect synergy between his fingers.

He, in any Demon’s eyes, was flawless.

He was the perfect candidate.

He was a prodigy.

He…was not chosen.