Work Text:
Enma shook off the blood of his twin scythes.
Enma pushed back his blooded hair from his face, annoyed at the way it got into his eyes. He should cut it soon, it was getting too annoying to keep them up, and it got in the way of his fights. It was already shoulder length, it was time to cut it.
Enman sat on the bleeding and cut-up bodies of the damned, trying to once again enter the living world. They get confident every hundred years, or so, Enma would have to show them it was a bad idea . Enma was the King of Hell, and he had the title for a reason. No wannabe damned could get past him without expecting lost limbs, along with their afterlife. Once Enma cut them, their souls were sent back to Hell, awaiting their afterlife of suffering. Enma didn't even feel bad. It was their choices that brought them to Hell in the first place. They should expect the consequences.
Enma adjusted one of his black scythes and cleaned them of the blood and flesh from the blade. He abhorred a dirty blade that would only serve to dull it. Enma spent centuries tempering his scythes with his will, and he would not allow that effort to go to waste.
Enma tied back his dark green hair, once again getting into his face. His black horns were also covered in blood, but that was easier to clean than his hair.
Enma finished cleaning one scythe and started on the other. He allowed his mind to wander when he used the motions he had done for eras.
Enma was the king of Hell, but it wasn’t the job most people thought it was. Enma wasn’t in control of the damned, he was only their prison warden, making sure they stayed in Hell. Enma only got the position through his power and personality, thorough to a fault, and wouldn’t leave things half finished.
And he would never give mercy to ones already Judged.
Enma put both of his scythes on his back, making sure they wouldn’t move. He looked up at the blood-red skies of Hell and sighed. He waved a hand, and all the bodies of the Damned disappeared. The blood-stained ground went back to the black crevasses and a desolate black desert. It was empty as far as Enma could see, and he walked away from the last battle. Enma didn’t enjoy his job, but he didn’t hate it either. It was what it was, a job he had to do for the rest of eternity. Some may think that would make Enma go crazy, but his will wasn’t so weak.
He reached into one of the pockets of his pure black clothes. It was essentially a long robe similar to one in the Mortal Plane in a country called Wano. It was comfortable and allowed him to have a free range of movements when he wanted to use his scythes. Enma brought out a jug of alcohol and guzzled it down. He whipped his mouth, allowing him to see the dark grey skin of his body. His skin and appearance changed when he took the mantle of King of Hell millennia’s ago, and Enma didn’t care. Appearances were useless in the grand scheme of things.
The screams of Hell were getting louder, knowing Enma was going in the right place. He used to get turned around when he first came to the Plane, but the scream was always a good marker. Enma started to see the Trials of the Damned, blood, and flesh becoming more common. Enma stepped on it without fear, uncaring of the suffering. Enma wasn’t curious about why they were suffering and what their trials are, just focused on getting back to his dwelling, hoping for some time to nap away a couple of years.
Enma spotted his dwelling, a castle his predecessor created. That person enjoyed a deary castle such as the one in front of him, but Enma only lived in it because he didn’t want to create a dwelling of his own. If it had a bed, it was good enough for him.
Enma stopped suddenly, looking up at the skies of Hell. He stared at the sun of the Plane, a deep blood red that matched the skies of Hell. The sun shined brighter for a moment, but Enma knew what that meant.
Enma sighed and drank from his jug, hiding the smile on his lips.
“Enma~!”
A pure white being with white flames appeared from the sun, skipping in the sky like it was his. Which it was, to some measure of the word. Enma saw the smile before he saw his red eyes, large and noticeable even through the distance. A great white smile that made joy appear in the hearts of all who saw it. Including Enma, but he was used to it, so he could hide its effects through habit. The white being came to Enma, too fast for him, unable to move out of the way. Enma grimaced and braced himself.
Enma saw the out-stretched arms and wide smile before he was knocked off his feet.
“Enma! It’s been too long!”
Enma grunted, rocks digging into his back. Rubbery arms wrapped around his body and the being's laughs shook Enma's body. Enma felt the warm heat from his hair of flames, but it doesn’t burn him.
“Nika, it’s only been a few decades.”
Nika hugged him harder.
“Too long!”
Enma sighed, knowing he wasn’t getting out of this grip if Nika didn’t want him to. Nika might not act like it, but he was one of the most powerful gods to exist. He was the Sun God, and everything pertaining freedom, liberation, fun, and joy were under his power as well. He was the most powerful god if one wants to debate. And that being was hugging Enma’s lungs out. If Enma had lungs.
“Let me get up at least.”
“Shishishishi!”
Nika laughed and let go of him, holding a hand for Enma to grab. Enma did, and Nika pulled him to his feet. Enma patted the dust of Hell off his black clothes and readjusted his scythes that were knocked off his body with Nika’s hug.
Enma looked up and studied Nika. He was smiling, and Enma could clearly see his red glowing eyes. His hair was white flames flickering in the air, wearing an open short white shirt that showed the golden X on his chest. He also wore white shorts and sandals. Enma raised an eyebrow at a new addition on his back. It was a straw hat with a red ribbon, a string around Nika’s neck to keep it there.
“When did you get the straw hat?”
Nika beamed, teeth showing. It made the golden line below his left eye shine brighter.
“You like it? One of my friends in the Mortal Plane gave it to me a few years ago.”
“Really?”
Nika nodded happily, “Yep!”
Enma shrugged and started to walk to his castle. Nika followed him with his hands above his head and started whistling happily while skipping alongside Enma. Enma glanced at his friend, who caught his eyes and grinned at his gaze. Enma shook his head and drank more from his bottle which was steadily getting lighter. Nika was one of the few gods that went to the Mortal Plane, mostly to have fun and spread happiness, even though he doesn’t know it the majority of the time. From what Enma heard from some of the Damned, Nika was seen as a mysterious person who liberated the oppressed and gave headaches to the mortals. The mortals didn’t know Nika was an actual god and not a powerful mortal.
Of course, they didn’t know that because even Nika knew it would be bad if he used his authority in the Mortal world. It would rip the Plane apart by the seams, it wouldn’t be able to handle Nika’s power.
“How’re your brothers? I haven’t seen them in a while.”
Enma said that, and Nika hummed happily.
“They're doing good. I think they were creating a new island a century ago.”
“They better not make it too deadly.”
Nika laughed at that but didn’t deny the claim. Nika’s sworn brothers were the Twin Elementals of Flames, and they loved challenging the strong. Enma met them after Nika asked if Enma wanted to meet them. Enma was strongarmed into meeting them.
Even though Nika was powerful, his brothers were very protective of him. They loved to keep Nika’s innocence and would go Inferno if anyone insulted him. Enma didn’t want to get on their bad side, knowing he would be roasted before he even knew what was happening to him. The Twin Elementals weren’t gods, but they were pseudo Gods, having authority over an element. And the Twins were very powerful.
“It’ll be fun!”
“Sure, whatever you say.”
Nika pouted up at Enma, a golden flush appearing on his cheeks. Enma grinned, showing off his fangs.
“Don’t make fun of me!”
He shook his fist with aggravation and Enma laughed him off. Nika wouldn’t fight him with only this much.
They got to his castle, the black stone looming over them. Nika put a hand over his eyes and looked up.
“It could use some musicians.”
“I am not getting a musician.”
“Awww.”
Nika looked down but sprung up a few moments later.
“Time to party!”
Enma mourned his food stores. Nika might not need to eat, but he loves to anyway.
“I’ll call my chefs.”
“I’m going to my Mortal Plane soon.”
Enma looked over at Nika over his alcohol bottle. Nika finished eating, by the look of it. He had empty plates stacked by tens around him, and Nika had a satisfied look. What got Enma’s attention was the odd look of seriousness on Nika’s face. His eyes held a storm, one where the sky would break open and split, seas moving with anger. It was a dangerous look, especially on Nika.
Enma sat his bottle down, holding himself back from holding his scythes.
“Do you want me to come?”
Enma would, even though it would make his Plane weaken a little. It wasn’t something that would cause the end of the Plane, but it would create some ripple effects in other Planes. Enma didn’t care. If Nika asked, he would go. He hasn’t seen his friend this serious in eras. The last time he had this look was when one of the Twins got injured by an erratic volcanic explosion.
Nika shook his head, “No, just wanted to see you before I left the Celestial Plane. Some people are messing with my friends in the Mortal Plane, and I plan to help them out.”
Nika held the straw hat, gentle with his strength. Enma eyed it, curious.
“Are they the friends who gave you that hat?”
“Yeah.”
Nika stood up and stepped into the sky, glowing brighter when he got close to the sun. He looked back and waved at Enma, watching from his castle's many windows. He waved, face set in a smile.
“I’ll see you soon, Enma!”
Enma said nothing, only raising his bottle in agreement. He laughed and ran off into the sun, leaving Hell’s Plane.
Enma left the window and went to his room. He wanted to take a nap.
His last thoughts before he entered his nap were of Nika, his best friend.
And he would regret not saying goodbye to Nika.
Because that was the last time he saw his friend.
“Zoro?”
Zoro was shaken awake, grabbing his swords on instinct. His eyes opened only to see Luffy looking at him with confusion. A brief sense of loss so deep it shocked Zoro, but it was gone just as quickly as it came. Zoro leaned back, body relaxing from the tension he barely realized his body was holding.
He looked around and saw he was on the Merry, waves crashing against the sides of the vessel. The crew was around, but not paying attention to Luffy and Zoro.
“Yeah?”
“You were crying.”
Zoro touched his face, pulling away when his face came back wet. Luffy was frowning while Zoro shook his head.
“Are you okay?”
Zoro looked into Luffy’s eyes, feeling an odd sense that they were wrong somehow, like they were missing something.
“Yeah.”
Zoro looked up at the blue sky, seeing the bright sun shining onto him.
“Yeah. It was just a dream.”