Yukio could only stare.

  The boy standing before him didn’t fit into any category his brain could comprehend. He looked maybe twelve—thirteen at the oldest—dressed like a child who had raided a treasure chest for fun. A crooked golden crown, silken robes shimmering with threads of silver and gold, a chain so thick it would’ve made a rapper blush, and rings glinting on every finger.

  And yet, here he was. Smiling like the punchline to a joke only he found funny.

  Michibiki, who had been so easily flustered before, was now bowing in reverence, her forehead nearly touching the ground.

  What is happening right now? Yukio wondered, suspicion and disbelief swirling like storm clouds in his mind. His gaze shifted from Michibiki’s kneeling form to the boy, who floated a few inches off the ground as if gravity itself was just a suggestion.

  “…How do you know my name?”

  Yukio asked finally, voice sharp with both confusion and wariness.

  The boy’s grin widened, impossibly bright. With a dramatic flourish, he raised one finger toward the sky, his crown slipping slightly in the process.

  “Glad you asked!”

  He announced, his tone theatrical, sing-song, like he’d been waiting for this question all day.

  “I’m Fukui—the God of Fortune. Nice to meetcha!”

  He stuck out a small hand, clearly expecting Yukio to shake it.

  Yukio blinked. Then blinked again. Finally, he took a slow step back, holding both palms out.

  “Wait… you’re saying you’re a god?”

  Fukui puffed out his chest, planting his fists on his hips with all the bravado of a Saturday morning cartoon hero.

  “That’s right! I’m the very god who sprinkled all that sweet luck on you tonight.”

  His voice dropped, just slightly, to something more reflective.

  “But, uh… it seems your light shined brighter than I expected. And then—poof. Burned out.”

  Yukio just stared. His disbelief didn’t even have the energy to be angry yet. He gestured vaguely, words tumbling out fast and incredulous.

  “First, I win a fortune. Then I get flattened by a truck. Then I wake up in heaven and meet… what I thought was a cosplayer. Now you’re telling me the god responsible for my luck looks like my little brother dressed for Halloween. What is this, some kind of cosmic prank show?”

  Michibiki gasped, her serene mask cracking into outrage.

  “You dare insult Lord Fukui? You don’t even deserve to—!”

  “Pfft—ha! HAHAHA!”

  Fukui doubled over mid-air, clutching his stomach, his laughter ringing like a hundred bells.

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  “A cosplayer! Michibiki, a cosplayer!”

  He wiped a tear from his eye, grinning from ear to ear.

  “Yukio, buddy, you’re killing me!”

  Michibiki’s face flushed crimson as she sputtered in protest.

  “Lord Fukui, I…I…”

  “It’s fine, it’s fine.”

  Fukui waved her off with a lazy flick of his wrist, still chuckling.

  “Relax, Michibiki.”

  Instantly, she fell back, bowing again, her dignity slowly stitched back together.

  “Forgive me, Lord Fukui. I lost my composure.”

  “Yeah, yeah, no biggie.”

  The boy spun mid-air to face Yukio again, his grin softening into something more conspiratorial.

  “Now… about you.”

  Yukio raised an eyebrow.

  “…About me?”

  Fukui scratched the back of his neck, suddenly looking less godly and more like a kid who had broken a window with a baseball.

  “So, uh… you know that luck I gave you?”

  “…Yes?”

  Yukio answered slowly, suspicion dripping from the word.

  “Well, see…”

  Fukui grimaced, his voice light but guilty.

  “I thought since you hit it big at the casino, you didn’t need it anymore. So I, uh… took it back.”

  “…Took it back.”

  Yukio’s voice was flat.

  “Yeah. Except I might’ve… accidentally taken all your good fortune. Which, y’know, left you with nothing but bad luck.”

  He shrugged sheepishly, his grin returning like this was all just a minor inconvenience.

  “And, uh… then you got hit by that truck. Sorry, buddy.”

  He said it so casually, so cheerfully, that it was almost comical. Almost.

  Yukio’s face froze, every muscle trembling. A single, deranged chuckle escaped his lips. Then another. Soon his shoulders were shaking, his laugh hollow, sharp-edged, teetering between madness and rage.

  “Are you serious?”

  His voice was low, guttural, dangerous.

  Then the dam broke. He lunged, fury blazing in his eyes.

  “YOU LITTLE PSYCHO!”

  But before he could lay a hand on him, Michibiki’s arm flicked out. A crystalline wall erupted between them, translucent and glowing. Yukio’s fists slammed into it with a muffled thud, the impact reverberating painfully up his arms.

  He pressed his forehead against the barrier, eyes burning holes through it. Through Fukui.

  The boy didn’t flinch. He simply let out a long, weary sigh, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.

  “I get it. You’re mad. Totally understandable. But hey—look on the bright side.”

  Yukio’s teeth ground together audibly.

  “…What bright side?”

  “At least your money wasn’t wasted!”

  Fukui pointed out cheerfully, wagging a finger.

  “You transferred it all to your parents before the accident, right? So… silver lining!”

  Yukio’s fists pounded the barrier again. His voice was a low growl.

  Fukui ignored the murderous glare and shrugged with exaggerated nonchalance.

  “Anyway, here’s the deal. Instead of heaven, I’ve got another offer for you.”

  That made Yukio pause. His fury didn’t vanish, but curiosity cracked through it.

  “…Another offer?”

  “Yep.”

  Fukui clapped his hands, floating closer.

  “How about going to another world?”

  The words hung in the void like a spark waiting to ignite.

  “Another… world?”

  Yukio repeated, tone flat.

  Fukui’s grin widened.

  “That’s right! A whole different world. One where things are a lot more exciting than, say, lounging in heaven forever. Think about it: landscapes straight out of fairy tales, creatures you’ve only seen in stories, multiple races, cultures, adventures! Doesn’t that sound way better than floating around playing harps all day?”

  Yukio narrowed his eyes.

  “What’s the catch?”

  Fukui tilted his head.

  “Catch? Pfft. No catch! Well…”

  His grin didn’t falter, but his voice shifted to mock seriousness.

  “…Okay, maybe a small one. Humans and demons have been at war for, oh, about 300 years. So if you choose to go, you’d be, y’know… starting life on the human side. Which is, uh, a little unlucky for you.”

  “Of course,”

  Yukio muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

  “But hey!”

  Fukui spun mid-air, his crown wobbling dangerously.

  “No worries! If you accept, I’ll grant you a special ability. Something that’ll give you a fighting chance to not just survive, but thrive. Because that’s what I do. I’m the God of Fortune, remember?”

  With a snap of his fingers, the barrier vanished, shimmering into nothingness. Yukio stumbled forward slightly, glaring up at the boy floating smugly above him.

  “Just say the word, Yukio.”

  Fukui’s grin was playful, almost daring.

  “Put your faith in me, and I’ll make it worth your while.”

  The challenge echoed in the empty expanse, heavy with promise and mischief.