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Save two souls, the hall was empty.
They rested at opposing ends of the chamber of judgement, one smaller and one larger. The smaller drummed her fingers idly across the overlarge desk where she sat, chin in hand, while the larger leaned herself between the wall and her gargantuan scythe and rested her eyes. But for the howling of blistering, brimstone wind against one grand door of the hall, and the muted, gentle snores of the scythe-wielder who slept upright, the chamber was silent.
A silence that wilted with a single word—a name. "Komachi," the smaller said. The walls carried her voice, smooth and level, such that she had no need to raise it.
The shinigami opened her eyes. "Yes, Lady Shiki?"
"I have a favour to ask."
-
There could be no better way to describe this chamber than gargantuan. The immensity of the space was a thing to behold, but it could hardly compare to that of what was in it; tapestries as large as entire rooms crowned the domed roof and draped ever lower in layer after layer, as if to shade the story-tall statues that held their silent vigil in the room's pillared corners.
A mahogany desk, many times larger than a desk ought to have been, overlooked my stand. Unlike all other things in this room, my stand was of a normal size, and I suddenly felt constrained for it. That, or the fact that when I'd stepped in its berth it had enclosed me with waist-high railings, or the fact that at either side of me were club-bearing oni that seemed eager for an excuse to use their weapons.
It was hot. Unbearably so, in fact, but stifled, held at bay by something. What heat seeped through was terrible and dessicating, and it slithered its way under my clothes and across my skin, and sapped life and moisture from me. Why, then, was I shivering? "I don't understand," I pleaded.
The judge—my judge—was diminuitive compared to the desk at which she sat. The fact mattered little when said desk was a whole floor above me. She regarded me, expression and gesture and all, as if she was looking at a stain on the floor.
"Hell," she said flatly, "does not recognise your existence."
"That's what I don't understand! Why am I in Hell?"
"You're not."
"Then-"
"You're on a landing down the stairs to Hell. And if you're not careful," she stressed, "you'll fall. Collect yourself."
However muted, the threat was enough. The oni shuffled uncomfortably as the words echoed in the chamber for far longer than was comfortable.
If it ever occured to the Yama that my life and soul were on the line, she didn't seem to care. As I swallowed my indignation I glimpsed her point of view: how many souls had she judged? How could my life be anymore consequential than theirs? The Yama had the airs of not just boredom, but distraction, too. Her jade hair was lopsided, longer on the right, and this she idly twirled around her finger as she looked me over for a long minute. "You are obviously not dead. You don't belong."
Sensing I'd a piece to share, the Yama gestured my permission to speak. "So I'm not going to Hell?"
"Not yet, anyway."
The Yama flicked the rod she'd been holding, and on cue the oni to my sides stepped back. Orderly, they marched from the room, disappearing into one of the many smaller doors that lined the second level. The Yama herself disappeared behind her desk, returning as the clicking of her heels reverberated through the hall in a perfect, measured rhythm, even as she descended to my level.
"This place," she spoke, "is to judge the dead, and to send them to Heaven or Hell. You are not dead, and I cannot judge you."
She was only a few paces off from my stand when she stopped, and here I'd a better look at her. Hers was not dress I imagined any judge of Hell would wear, but I found myself lacking any ideas more fitting. A white blouse, a blue vest, a black skirt...it was exotic, but familiar enough that I could recognise its distinct professionalism. The crown she bore was most definitely befitting of her station, gilded and frilled and ornate, its many ribbons hovering about and behind her.
And, lower...
The rod found its way to my chin, and she raised my eyes to meet hers. "But if you'd the misfortune of coming to me as a soul, Hell would have welcomed you with open arms."
Fortunately, I could hide the weakness in my knees by leaning on the rails surrounding me. When I next spoke it was barely a squeak, and utterly devoid of direction or meaning. "Please..."
It was a practised skill to look down on someone not just a half-head taller than oneself, but standing a half-head above them, too. The Yama had this in spades, offering me an expression of pity as her eyes peeled my own apart.
"Kneel," she said.
Hesitation was my first and only mistake. The rod flipped over, allowing my chin to sink as it instead bit into my shoulder—and I immediately collapsed, the weight of a mountain suddenly pressing atop me. When I'd regained my sense I was on my hands and knees, drenched in sweat, grovelling before the Yama in earnest supplication.
"That was the weight of your sin."
Unwilling to move any more than a swallow, I did just that.
"My sin," I mouthed.
Surely not.
I wasn't perfect, but who was? I was a friendly face as any. I was no monk, and certainly no hermit, but I couldn't be such a terrible sinner without realising, either...
On my knees, now, I had to look up to meet the Yama's gaze. Not that I wanted to, but that I had no choice in the matter, as she lifted my chin once more with the rod, now feather-light but radiating threat.
Her expression softened a touch. "That is only my opinion as a judge, however."
"Then..."
It was then a delicate, gloved hand that locked my gaze to hers, as the rod fell to her side. The Yama touched my face, almost caressing it, a gesture that had lost its tenderness when she'd forced me to the floor seconds ago. Such was her touch, but her expression was not one to match; even when she had dropped her stern, professional demeanor, the honed sharpness of her frigid blue eyes remained.
There was a long, silent moment before she spoke.
"How would you like your judgement postponed?"
-
I wondered if Eiki knew.
She must have. Hell had a penchant for irony.
Then the only question was how she knew. Eiki thumbed a handheld mirror in her grip, subtly flicking it to and fro, guiding the exotic magic that emanated from its surface, pausing and continuing to whatever whims it demanded. "Lust is such a simple sin, but yours runs deep."
I couldn't reply...
"Even when you were brought before me, even grovelling on the floor for mercy, you couldn't help but stare at my legs. Did you think I wouldn't notice?"
...But I could certainly blush.
"Fortunately for you, I don't particularly condemn it. It's endearing, really. But for keeping you out of Hell, I expect my favour returned."
The Yama sat in her throne and adjusted her legs, the bare skin of her thighs pressing firmly into my cheeks, the fabric of her black underwear against my lips. Her skirt, however meager it was, was draped over much of my face, obscuring most but the sound of her voice and the mild glisten of her sweat. Feverish, I could hardly tell if the sweltering heat was hers or my own, but now skin to skin, I suppose it didn't matter, either.
"You will entertain your illicit thoughts," she continued, "until you have exhausted them and until I am satisfied." Then, two cracks of the gavel rang from the desk overhead and throughout the hall, and Eiki announced, "let them in."
The most grand set of doors, opposite to the Yama's desk, ground themselves against the floor as they marched open in perfect unison. Even open only a crack, looking over my shoulder as much as I could with two legs draped over them, I could spy simple white forms, wispy and about the size of a melon, filing through by the dozens. The first among them hovered into the same podium where I once stood, only noticebly more silent.
"Murder. Hell."
I'd yet to come even close to terms with my situation, but I'd little choice. Eiki adjusted her legs and brought my trembling lips against her crotch. "Unless you'd like to have your soul cleansed in the Sanzu, instead, I suggest you get to work. Next."
There was no concealed venom or anger in her words; it was hardly a threat, nor an ultimatum, but a simple statement of fact. Nonetheless I gave, and by the time the next verdict was delivered I'd planted a first, tentative raspberry through her underwear. Then I paused, long enough that I might tell if Eiki was disappointed but short enough that I would not have my soul reft from my body for disobedience. It was fortunate that the Yama spoke her mind, which made it easier to understand her silence as acceptance. The second kiss, and the third, met no objections, and my tentativity began to wither as the lustful heat in my chest swelled, as the salt of sweat and the bitterness of fabric coursed across my tongue.
"Poor soul. Be cleansed before you reincarnate. Next."
What a droll thing. Surely the judge of Hell was supposed to be a paragon of virtue, but here I was, kissing her parts through her underwear as she sentenced souls to Hell or otherwise. Wasn't this, itself, a sin of some kind? Indulging in a sin to be rid of it was certainly a creative take. Perhaps another judge would think so, but for better or worse I had only Eiki as mine. And yet, whatever objections my mind could muster were smothered by the encouragements of the body, and ever so gradually my tentative kisses grew in fervor, my tongue presses firmly into her subtle folds, my hands sank into the bare skin of her thighs...
I felt the distinct touch of the rod of remorse, thankfully light, against the crown of my head, and wondered if she spoke to put my sudden tension to rest. "You're doing good.
"Oh, not you," she spoke to the next soul. "Hell."
I could certainly feel it, though not for its weight. The Yama dropped it to one side and brought it to the rear of my head, then pushed me further into her groin ever so slightly, inch by inch. Myself I pushed her skirt further up, where it fell loose above her hips, so that I might see more of her.
To say she was composed was an understatement. The Yama's expression hadn't changed any since I first laid eyes on her, even now. Her level gaze was fixed to the podium, her voice intoning no emotion in her judgements, three of which passed before she realised I was looking her way. Even as the next soul took to the stand, she looked to me, the barest of smiles spreading across her lips. "That's a wonderful look for you."
And just as soon, her attention reverted to the soul awaiting her, and her expression returned to nil. "Pay me no mind. Your way is Purgatory."
The Yama's approval was a treat beyond want or need. It was a sweet, sustaining thing, one that set the heart aflutter and the mind racing, and I found my hands hooking themselves around her panties to slide them off...
But the Yama, with a single finger to the forehead, pushed me off, and in the place of her approval I felt a horrible regret. Of course not, I thought. What place was it for a lowly human to strip the Yama of Paradise? The blindness of lust was obscuring to the fact, and sorrow grew where it faded.
This was, after all, for her own pleasure. Mine was no factor.
Then, her fingers like tears traced lines down my cheek, until she thumbed my chin. "Take them off with your teeth."
Like a storm had my sorrow appeared, and just as quickly had it dissipated.
"Yes, Lady Shiki."
Where I bit into the hem of her underwear was also where I'd the first real taste of her skin and sweat, where it beaded on my upper lip and vanished behind the bottom. Her hand drifted away as I leaned back, bringing her legs closer, dragging the bit of cloth away in a slow, fluid motion. No sooner than it fell from her ankles did her heels dig into the back of my neck and drag me to attend to her, now bare.
There was a newfound impatience in her movements, an aggression she'd hidden until now. She wrapped her legs behind my head and pulled me in, pressing my lips to hers. Eiki saw fit to release me when my tongue went to work, tracing a careful line from her crease to her clit.
But for a hum that pressed through her pursed lips, she seemed unenthused as ever. But Eiki was honest, and however flatly she heaped praise on me I found myself wanting more. "That's good," she sighed, allowing herself no more than that.
How long had I been doing this? My jaw was deadly stiff and tongue sore, its movements dwindling and slowing, but despite it Eiki seemed no more pleased for it. Judgements after judgements were delivered, and besides that single, solitary hum, she hadn't allowed any more than that. Not a gasp, nor moan, nor cry. I thought to myself, should I ask her? Was I doing poorly? But the Yama might have taken offense to my stopping, not doing as I was told...
But she then flinched. It was downright imperceptible, had her thighs not locked my head in place. The slight tremble coursed through her, reverberating from her head to her toes as a slight shiver, and at the same time my tongue ran wet and warm.
The door ground shut as the last soul had left. Still I licked, knowing that my own job was far from over, but Eiki allowed—no, forced some reprieve, taking me by the chin as she was so fond of. As my eyes locked with hers, her grip shifted, and allowed me to rest my chin in her palm, as she wicked away the moisture on my lips with her thumb.
How did I look to her, I wondered? Like a pet expecting praise, most likely. Or a scolding.
But why? Why was I servicing her so readily? Certainly because she was the Yama, and to not do as she said would put me on the road to Hell, but here I was hoping I'd satisfied her, not for my safety but my ego. As if anything less than a stellar performance was a grievous insult to her. The poison of lust had fled from my mind, and I was thinking crystal clear, for better or worse.
"You did well," she hummed.
Like sand, my doubts crumbled and scattered. Never quite gone, but for now, suppressed. "Thank you, Lady Shiki."
Her leg arced slowly overhead as she stood to the side, and patted the cushion where she sat moments ago. "Sit," she commanded, and I staggered to my feet to do exactly that.
As I did, she'd taken two boxes, one large and one small, from the nearest drawer of many on her desk. From the larger she withdrew a cigarette, and the smaller a match.
Then she, too, sat down. Facing me.
"What-"
"I believe a reward is in order," was all she offered. The embers of her lit cigarette flared as she inhaled.
"But-"
"You also don't have a choice," were her next words, accompanied by a puff of smoke. "If you recall, my instructions were to satisfy both your gnawing lust and myself. And judging by this," she shifted backwards, pressing herself against my hidden erection, "neither of those things are true."
"But Lady Shiki-"
"Unless you'd like to renege on our deal, and go to Hell, instead."
I held my tongue. Wisely.
"Good."
The Yamaxanadu was light, fortunately, and I could remove enough of my trousers without asking her to move. For her height, when she sat in my lap our eyes were perfectly level, and I could practically taste the ash on her dwindling cigarette given how close our faces were. The Yama also looked perpetually stern, even disappointed, and I knew immediately that holding her glare was going to be an ordeal.
She, on the other hand, wasted no time on these details. Her arms on my shoulders, she propped herself up, and dropped just as quickly, with neither warning nor preparation, onto my aching erection.
I choked a moan down as the pleasure surged through me, but impatient as ever, Eiki did not wait. The second and third thrusts on her part came just as quickly. Of course they did; she was already warmed up. I was off to a cold start.
The cigarette found its way into her fingers, and she twisted it about, the embers facing her. "Take it."
"I don't...smoke..." I managed.
"Yes, you do."
In no position to deny her, I opened my lips, and felt the damp tip of the cigarette press through them a second later. How was I expected to take a drag, though? Air passed through me just as quickly as Eiki pushed against me, which left me neither time nor control to breathe.
But I could try. The warmth that pooled in my lungs felt no different than that pooling in my crotch, and for a moment it was sweet and blissful. A tremor shot through, and I expected to cough-
The Yama pressed her lips against mine and sealed them firm, and allowed the smoke to bleed where it deigned to. She caught the tumbling smoke and crushed it, its ashes scattering along with its shell. Head, chest, groin—all was warm. All was good.
How long had I been returning her thrusts? How long had I been enjoying myself? Our tongues danced, back and forth, each teasing the other in a nonsensical act, just as our rhythm was crooked and unprofessional, a bodily cacophony, two musicians playing separate songs but nonetheless together. When I dared to look into Eiki's eyes, I saw a muted, colourless pleasure, but a pleasure it was. Perhaps, I thought, if we broke our kiss I could hear her moan, but why would I do such a thing?
She would, eventually. The faintest cloud of smoke remained where our lips broke apart, and I thought a haze might come from mine. "It's good, isn't it?"
I could hardly twist my tongue to form a single word, how the bliss had taken it for its own design. "What...is?"
"The privacy. I can give you all the attention you deserve."
I ought to have been saying the same thing. I'd let my hands take her by the hips, until now, but I couldn't put up with it any longer. I needed her closer. I needed to feel her. They crossed behind her, by the bottom of the ribs, and I held the Yama against me, smothering her rhythm with my own as I handled her. Closer, still, higher still...
I was close. Was she? Her expression had barely changed, as if it had simply disconnected from her emotion. Just as I thought as much, I saw her lips tremble, her eyes relax, her mouth slacken enough to let loose a single breath. Her lids fell closed and her moans grew ever more frequent, ever more feverish, ever more real.
Not close. She'd long been done. It was my time to finish, so finish I did.
The peak of lust was a poison that acted on the mind, one that denied rationale its place. Now, I could spare no thought for my predicament, could harbour no hatred for how blatantly unjust my situation was. I just wanted to share myself with the Yama, the woman sitting in my lap, staring holes into my skull, no doubt taking pleasure in the sin inflicted upon me.
She felt it before I did, and pushed down as the climax came about. In an achingly long moment, the feverish heat peaked and dwindled, fleeing from my loins into hers, and I gasped for something to soothe my screaming lungs. The walls shared my throes, passing them from one to the other, and once the echoes had subsided did the trembles of the aftershock end, too.
The Yama looked...satisfied. Her brutal demeanor was laid to rest, finally, and she allowed herself to breathe and pant and moan just as I had. Where once was a stern gaze was now a softer one, far from loving but, at least, on the same road as it.
That was it, then?
Through laborous breaths, I dared to ask, "Now what?"
A smile was not what I expected. Like an oasis in the desert, however ill-fitting it was to see any emotion cross the Yama's face, it was undoubtedly and undeniably beautiful.
"I'm not satisfied yet."
-
The ledger laid before the Yama and her aide was truly enormous, as thick as the Yama herself. Opened, it occupied more space that a normal desk could have, but this was, fortunately, not a normal desk.
Komachi peered over the shoulder of her master, as the latter sifted through page after page. Five pages ago, every name in the book (save a few special cases, she mused) had been struck through. This was no longer the case. The shinigami meekly wondered if she had missed a mark, somewhere. Or worse, put one where there ought not to be one.
This was, of course, a ledger for the dead. For those dead now, and those yet to be.
She breathed a sigh of relief as the Yama stopped on one, still alive. "What about him?"
"Bring him to me."
"But he still has a few days left," the shinigami argued. Indeed, the date marked by his name was shy of a week away, and his destination of Hell had long since been decided for him. A handful of minor sins underlined his name, she observed. How tragic.
"Alive."
Komachi paused.
"If you mean to preach to him—"
"I do not. He must be brought here."
For far longer this time, she paused.
"Why?"
But she knew exactly why. Hell's latest fad started with the jidiao in the Animal Realm: humans made for good pets.
Live ones, of course. The souls crossing the Sanzu had most of themselves stripped away, left behind with their cadavers, but living humans were sinful, exciting creatures. They could lust, crave, yearn, even love, and this, both knew. Eiki's response was as quick as it was brutally honest: "I want one."
The shinigami had no love for playing the devil's advocate. A human would certainly be...fun, to have around. But arguments had to be made. "If you cheat this man out of the judgement he deserves, you'll jeoaprdise your position, Lady Shiki. The higher-ups—"
"Already have pets of their own, they won't bother. And besides," the Yama added...
"I'll make sure he's punished plenty."