“I plan to thoroughly reconsider how I’m going to live, so that I can continue to be myself. In any case, I have every intention of returning home safely. It is me, after all.”
Exactly. That was Shiroshi down to the ground, and it was Seiji’s job to believe in him. As a result, he’d left the house without saying anything resembling good-bye.
They were bound to meet again someday. He believed in that even more firmly than he believed in himself.
Meanwhile, on Seiji’s end of things…
Shiroshi paid the rent on that apartment for six months, but I’d better find a steady job soon.
On that note, he’d been frequenting Hello Work while putting his old experience to good use and making ends meet with short- term part-time jobs. Were his prospects bright? Quite the opposite, really.
No home, no work, no money—he still lacked all three, and his life was bound to stay riddled with disgrace.
He no longer felt trapped, however. His days of standing frozen in pitch blackness, unable to go anywhere, were over.
After all, he’d had someone who stayed half a step ahead of him and led him by the hand.
It was as if he’d followed a butterfly through the darkness of Hell. One as white as a bug light, as a lamp on the way home, as the light of dawn.
Since that was so, he thought it would all work out somehow. The simple fact that they were both alive somewhere in this world was enough to make him think so.
And now, the world had definitely taken on the colors of spring.
Squinting against the wind, Seiji started wanting a cigarette, and he rummaged through his jacket pockets. Then, for no particular reason, he stopped. There was no one around to badger him to quit anymore.
Somehow, he felt desperately homesick. But…
“I should get going.”
He smacked his cheeks lightly, psyching himself up, and got to his feet. Just as he was about to set off…
“Huh?”
When he looked up—he was right there.
For just a moment, he felt his heart stop. His mouth was hanging open, but his voice wouldn’t come. The emotions welling up inside him had blocked his throat.
Still, even before his shock-blanked mind understood who it was, he called his name.
“Shiroshi.”
And…
“It’s been a long time, Seiji.”
…there he was, his voice, his gestures, that smile, all unchanged.
Shiroshi.
Chatting in front of the convenience store would have been awkward, so they relocated to a bench in a nearby park.
Since he had an extra, Seiji offered Shiroshi the other can of coffee. “Heh-heh-heh. You’re treating me, Seiji?” Shiroshi took a cheerful swallow, then—still smiling—pushed the can away, toward the end of the bench. Too bitter, apparently.
After that, his eyes fell on the résumé forms sticking out of the convenience store bag.
“Oh, you’ve already decided what sort of work to apply for?”
“Um, no, not yet. Frankly, I’m bad at deciding that stuff, so I thought I’d start something first and then worry about it.”
“Heh-heh. That’s quite like you. It’s a good idea.”
“…You think?”
“I do.”
They smiled for a bit, and then Shiroshi gave a troubled sigh. “To tell the truth, I am also unemployed. I’ve stepped down as Demon King.”
“…Huh?”
“Or rather, I risked my life to force the role onto someone else.”
According to Shiroshi, Japan had originally had a figure worthy of being called the true Demon King.
Come to think of it, Demon King Sanmoto Gorouzaemon had come to Japan to watch the Genpei War; before that, Japan had been under the command of a great yokai who outranked Evil God Shinno Akugorou. That individual had abruptly made himself scarce, and that was why the two had begun to fight over the throne.
“Yes, that personage is the supreme commander of yokai, Nurarihyon. He’s as slippery and evasive as his name suggests: a great yokai whose true identity is unknown. Beniko and I spent the past four months frantically searching for him.”
Incredibly, they’d found him disguised as an old retiree, living a leisurely, freewheeling pensioner’s life.
“Therefore, I humbly had him reclaim the throne. In specific terms, I took a page from Ibara’s book and challenged him to a game of sugoroku. I did stake my life on the match, but I managed to win somehow.”
And so…
At present, the supreme yokai commander Nurarihyon reigned as Demon King. Although the supernaturals had been thrown into chaos by the loss of both demon kings, peace had been restored, at least on the surface.
“The remaining issue was my future path, and so I pitched myself to the Enma Ministry.”
“…Huh?”
“After losing Takamura, the Enma Ministry was also in great turmoil. Frankly, they’re positively desperate for more help. In due time, I hope to take Takamura’s position. However, as I am still too young, I will be accepting outsourced duties in this world on a work-from-home basis until I reach maturity. In a word, it will be Hell’s branch office.”
Smiling, Shiroshi told him that he was considering having a well dug to the underworld later.
I’m glad I already finished my coffee, Seiji thought.
If he’d had some in his mouth, a shock like that might have made him go Merlion.
Still, this was the answer Shiroshi had found.
He’d asked himself how he was going to live, then stressed, agonized, searched all over, and finally come up with this. In that case, it had to be the best outcome.
“So until you’re an adult, you’re going to be living at that house just like you’ve been doing?”
“Yes, that’s right. For about a hundred years.”
And then, unexpectedly, Shiroshi looked at Seiji.
In the dappled light under the trees, his face was as pale as the sacred anise flowers, and as luminous as if it were collecting the soft spring sunlight.
“And so, Seiji. Would you give me your next hundred years?”
He smiled, looking him straight in the eye. “In specific terms, I would like you to help me with my work as a live-in assistant. If possible, it would be kind of you to eventually repay the thirty-million-yen loan I took over for you through labor. If you find other work, I won’t mind if you only help me on the days when you’re free.”
“Um.” Seiji blinked.
Words surfaced and vanished in his mind with dizzying speed. He found himself pressing his hands to his eyes. It felt as if he had to, or the sheer brightness of this would make him tear up.
“…If you mean a hundred years starting now, I think I’ll probably come up short.”
“Well… Put in a little effort, please. Quit smoking, for example,” Shiroshi told him, grinning.
Seiji laughed and got to his feet. In the reverse of another day, he held out a hand to Shiroshi as proof that he agreed.
“All right. Let’s go.”
And they set off—side by side.
✦ ✦ ✦
In this world, there may be a human who lives with an oni.
✦ ✦ ✦
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