n the present time within the Pride Ring, the first and topmost ring of Hell, sinners find themselves confined to this realm. However, unlike the other rings in Hell, the Pride Ring is accessible and traversable by Hellborn species through a building adorned with a distinctive spiral symbol — the Spiral Publishing, one of the most prominent publication companies in Hell.
Inside the Spiral Publishing office, a woman sits in her workspace, surrounded by the infernal ambiance of the Pride Ring. She's fervently typing away, muttering to herself, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. Adorned in a cute, long-sleeved sweater, she wears red-framed circular glasses that accentuate her focused gaze. Her vibrant hair is neatly tied in a ponytail.
This woman is none other than Naruko Uzumaki, the novelist writer and overlord of Hell. In the bustling world of demonic literature, Naruko reigns supreme, weaving tales that captivate both the damned and the denizens of the underworld. As she continues to craft her stories in the heart of the Pride Ring, her words resonate through the corridors of Hell, leaving an indelible mark on the infernal realm.
Three years ago, Naruko found herself in the depths of Hell, lost and alone, with no one to guide her through the intricacies of the underworld. It was during this tumultuous time that she encountered a peculiar figure – Alastor, the radio demon. With an air of charm and authority, he took Naruko under his wing, teaching her the nuances of the hierarchical maze that was Hell, helping her navigate the unfamiliar terrain.
Pregnant and desperate to survive, Naruko recognized that demons typically made deals to claim souls. However, she had something different to offer – knowledge. In a unique arrangement, she proposed a deal to Alastor: her soul remained intact, and in return, he gained access to a wealth of information. It was an unconventional pact that served both of their needs.
As time unfolded, Naruko and Alastor's relationship evolved beyond the bounds of a simple deal. Despite his demonic nature, Alastor assumed a role more akin to a father figure. He treated Naruko with care and understanding, a stark contrast to the malevolent reputation demons often bore. Their bond deepened, and an unexpected familial connection blossomed.
However, in the midst of their unconventional kinship, Naruko stumbled upon a revelation that would forever alter her fate. Contrary to her previous belief, she discovered that the Kyuubi, the formidable Nine-Tailed Fox, was not within her. The realization struck her with a blend of confusion and yearning.
Driven by a desire to comprehend her own existence, Naruko delved into the recesses of her memories. There, she uncovered a profound sacrifice made by Alastor. In an act of unprecedented generosity, he had transferred his entire soul and demonic power into her, effectively making her the new vessel for the Nine-Tailed Fox.
As the essence of the Kyuubi intertwined with her being, Naruko's consciousness expanded, absorbing knowledge from the vast reservoir of the shinobi era. She unearthed memories of previous jinchuriki, gaining insights into their struggles and triumphs. The legacy of the Kyuubi unfolded before her, revealing layers of history and wisdom she had never known.
Through this extraordinary exchange, Naruko not only secured her place in Hell but also unraveled the mysteries of her newfound demonic identity. With Alastor by her side, their unique bond transcended the boundaries between human and demon, forging an unbreakable connection that defied the very nature of their existence in the infernal realm.
Naruko sat at her typewriter, the rhythmic clattering of keys echoing in the dimly lit room. Frustration hung in the air as the words on the paper failed to capture the essence of her thoughts. With a click of her mouth, she sighed in discontent, a frown creasing her forehead. In a moment of vexation, she tore the paper from the typewriter, crumpling it into a tight ball before tossing it into a growing pile in the trash.
She took off her glasses, rubbing her fingers over tired eyes, feeling the weight of creative exhaustion settle upon her. The room was filled with a palpable sense of artistic struggle. It was then that a familiar, jovial voice wafted from behind, breaking the silence.
Alastor: Don't overwork yourself, my dear. You might end up meeting an untimely demise,"
the radio-infused voice of her adopted father, Alastor, playfully warned. Naruko turned to see him standing in the doorway of her office, a devilish grin etched on his face.
She smiled in response, the corners of her lips curling upwards. Alastor's presence had a way of bringing levity to even the darkest moments. With a teasing glint in his eye, he added,
Alastor: Besides, my dear, you're already in Hell. What more could be the problem?
A shared laughter resonated in the room, the sound of their amusement echoing off the walls. In the midst of the creative struggle, the bond between Naruko and Alastor transcended the challenges of Hell. Their banter, laced with dark humor, served as a reminder that even in the infernal realm, moments of joy and camaraderie could emerge. Together, they faced the trials of creativity and existence, finding solace in the unconventional father-daughter relationship they had forged in the depths of Hell.
Rising from her chair, Naruko couldn't resist the impulse to give her adopted father a heartfelt hug.
Naruko: It's good to see you, Father.
she expressed, genuine warmth in her voice. As she pulled back, a mischievous glint sparkled in her eyes.
Naruko: Remember, I'm not just any overlord in Hell. I'm the first human overlord, a writer, a secret manga artist, and sometimes, a singer in Japan on Earth in the human world.
she proudly declared, a playful smirk curving her lips. Alastor, with his characteristic sharp-toothed smile, responded,
Alastor: "Ah, humans and their ambitions. But even you have your limitations, my dear. Death comes swiftly for those who push too hard."
Naruko, undeterred, raised an eyebrow and muttered the words "shadow clone." In an instant, she created a clone without the need for hand seals, showcasing her ability to multitask. Alastor erupted into laughter, the sound reverberating with his radio-infused charm. With a swift and playful movement, he bopped her head gently with his radio staff.
Alastor: Ah, multitasking, a dangerous game, my dear. Even for a clever human like yourself. Too much information, and you might damage what's left of your brain.
Naruko responded with a grumbly chibi pout, her playfulness evident even in the face of Alastor's teasing. Their banter, a unique blend of familial affection and demonic wit, filled the room with a sense of camaraderie that defied the typical boundaries of Hell. In the dance between the human overlord and the radio demon, a peculiar but enduring bond continued to thrive.
Alastor, ever the observant demon, tilted his head inquisitively as he noticed Naruko using a typewriter instead of a modern electronic typing machine. Intrigued, he couldn't help but ask,
Alastor: My dear, why forsake the convenience of your electronic typing machine for this antiquated contraption?"
Naruko flashed him a warm smile, her eyes gleaming with a certain nostalgia.
Naruko: Well, Father, you're a fan of the radio and not a big fan of television, right?"
she teased, twirling a lock of hair with her finger.
Naruko: I thought I'd give a bit of a classic touch to my writing. I find the sound of the typewriter quite relaxing, and it brings a sense of simplicity to the creative process.
Alastor chuckled at her response, understanding the appeal of the classic.
Alastor: Ah, the good old days.
he mused, a whimsical gleam in his eye.
Alastor: Typewriters ruled the time until the depression hit.
A chuckle escaped him as he reminisced,
Alastor: "Oh, the number of jumpers during those trying times. Quite the spectacle, I must say."
Their conversation, a delightful blend of contemporary and historical references, echoed in the office. In this peculiar corner of Hell, where the old and new converged, Naruko's typewriter became a symbol of the enduring charm of the past. Even as they bantered about the quirks of different eras, the father-daughter duo found solace in the familiarity of their unconventional bond, built on the foundations of Hell's unique history.
As the hours waned, Naruko concluded her writing session, rising from her desk with a satisfied expression. With a few days free from appointments and having already submitted chapters for her manga in advance, she decided to take advantage of a rare respite. Channeling her demonic abilities, she performed a series of intricate hand seals, conjuring a portal that transcended dimensions, bridging Hell and Earth.
Stepping through the swirling vortex, the backdrop transformed from the infernal realm to the sunlit streets of Tokyo. The day unfolded around her as she found herself standing before the Toranomon Hills Residential Tower.
a pinnacle of premium living crafted by Mori Building Co. The interior, designed by Tony Chi, echoed sophistication, complemented by contemporary artwork curated by the Mori Art Museum.
Naruko, a renowned manga artist, singer, and light novel writer in Japan, could afford such luxury. Her creative endeavors garnered substantial recognition, reflected in checks adorned with numerous zeroes. Entering the opulent residence, she announced her presence with a joyful proclamation,
Naruko:"I'm home!"
In response, the laughter of two children echoed through the spacious apartment. Running into the room, Menma and Neoma Uzumaki, her twin children, greeted their mother with excitement. Naruko embraced them tightly, finding solace in their radiant smiles. In the embrace of her beloved twins, the weariness of her infernal responsibilities faded, replaced by the rejuvenating energy their presence provided. Home, surrounded by family, became a sanctuary where the renowned artist could momentarily escape the demanding clutches of Hell.
Naruko turned to her adorable twin children, Menma and Neoma, and asked with a playful smile,
Naruko: Did you behave for your babysitter?
The twins, their chubby cheeks adding to their cuteness, grinned and nodded, their innocent expressions melting Naruko's heart.
As if on cue, the babysitter walked into the room. it was none other than Loona, the goth hellhound from I.M.P (The Immediate Murder Professionals). Naruko had crossed paths with Loona and her father, Blitzo (with the 'o' silent for the record), and even did a few gigs with them. It was a unique arrangement that started after Naruko gave birth to the twins – a way for her to find a job and continue honing her skills in the art of killing, seeking strength and professionalism.
Despite their contrasting worlds, Naruko and Loona had formed a bond, akin to that of sisters – or in Naruko's playful description, a fluffy dog sister. Naruko inquired about how the twins fared in Loona's care, and a warm smile spread across the hellhound's face as she replied,
Loona: They behaved well, and I may have distracted them with a SpongeBob jellyfish dance.
Naruko couldn't help but snort, reminiscing about her first experiences with Earth's entertainment shows. The twins' fascination with the SpongeBob jellyfish dance amused her.
Naruko: Ah, the addictive allure of Earth's shows.
Naruko remarked.
Naruko: I remember my first time watching, especially SpongeBob. And it seems they've developed a love for Pokémon too."
She admitted,
Naruko: I have to agree; Pokémon is a pretty cool series. I even have the games – gotta catch 'em all!"
The shared enthusiasm for Earthly entertainment became a lighthearted connection between Naruko, Loona, and the twins in this unexpected intersection of Hell and the human world.
After a delightful chat, the time came for Naruko to bid farewell. She created a portal, sending a message through Loona to greet the rest of the gang. With a promise to meet up for some more hanging out and perhaps a bit of craziness, the two exchanged their farewells.
Returning home, Naruko dedicated herself to her maternal duties. She gave her twins a soothing bath, dressed them in adorable Pokémon onesies – a Pikachu outfit for her son and an Eevee ensemble for her daughter. The sight of the little ones in their cozy attire brought a warm smile to Naruko's face.
With the children tucked into their beds, Naruko began her nightly routine. She sang a lullaby, a song she had composed for an anime that had unexpectedly gained popularity.
An iron bullet is proof of justice.
Whenever I shot I became closer to the hero.
If you close your eyes and touch it,
The evil who has the same body and the same temperature.
Am I not good enough and is he better for you?
There was just a wall.
Dont cry about the destiny we were born with.
Cause we are all free.
If we have wings like birds,
We could go anywhere.
If we dont have a place to return to,
We might not be able to go anywhere.
I dont want to just live.
This world is cruel but I still love you.
Even if I sacrifice everything, I will protect you.
Even if this is a mistake, I dont doubt it.
What is right is believing in myself strongly.
The scene of the rain of iron falling.
It was on the TV, which looks like a movie.
War is a stupid violence.
Its the story of an unrelated and unknown country.
Then why do I hate him,
The reason why I cant hide my dark feelings,
I cant even explain why.
How come we are full of contradictions?
Once this word is translated,
The real meaning wont be understood.
What I believe is, when opening your eyes,
Only the world you touch.
I dont want to just live.
This world is cruel but I still love you.
Even if I sacrifice everything, I will protect you.
The shadow of the person whom I chose, the corpse of what I threw.
I noticed that what is growing inside me is the child of evil.
Behind justice, inside of sacrifice, there is a child of evil inside my heart.
Her melodic voice filled the room, creating a serene atmosphere as the twins drifted into the realm of dreams. The connection between Naruko's artistic talents and her maternal instincts blended seamlessly, creating a harmonious moment in their cozy Tokyo apartment.
Naruko gazed lovingly at her peacefully sleeping twins, Menma and Neoma, dressed in their Pokémon onesies. A gentle smile adorned her face as she bent down to plant tender kisses on their foreheads.
Naruko: Sleep well, my little maelstroms.
she whispered, the affection in her voice carrying the weight of a mother's love. With a final glance at her slumbering children, Naruko tiptoed out of the room, leaving the soft glow of nightlights to watch over their dreams.
To be continued...