Episode 7: "Hero Stress, Demon Depression"
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The rain dripped steadily outside, the kind of drizzle that soaked through your soul and left your mood soggier than a half-dipped rice cracker.
Inside a cramped Tokyo office space, Suzuki Sakura—once the shining Hero of the Human Realm, slayer of demonic lords and banisher of shadow legions—was currently being chewed out by a 32-year-old finance manager named Goto-san, who wore gelled hair and the smug confidence of a man who thought Excel macros were peak power.
"You submitted the quarterly report late," Goto droned, tapping his silver pen. "Again."
Sakura sat still, her fingers twitching. Her holy blade—now disguised as a letter opener in her pencil drawer—buzzed faintly.
"I was a little busy," she said through clenched teeth. "Kindergarten terrorists and magic assassins, remember?"
"I'm not sure that's a valid excuse in this corporation," Goto said, flipping his tie like a peacock flaring his feathers. "Suzuki-san, if you don't adjust your attitude, the higher-ups—"
SLICE.
The fax machine behind him split in two with a metallic shhink. Smoke wafted upward as the top half slid off.
Goto paled. "Y-You…"
"I adjusted my attitude," Sakura said sweetly, tucking the "letter opener" back in its drawer.
Goto cleared his throat and retreated faster than a goblin battalion facing an archangel. Sakura dropped her head onto the keyboard with a muffled sigh.
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Meanwhile, across town at Maou Ragna's Curry Inferno, things weren't exactly cooking.
Literally.
"WHY does this taste like a volcano spat in my mouth!?" a customer screamed, running out with tears in their eyes.
Ragna groaned from the kitchen.
"They ordered the 'Demon's Breath' special. It's supposed to do that!"
But the damage was done. Another 1-star review hit the shop's cursed Google listing, right below one that read: "Ate here and briefly became a goat. Would not recommend."
Ragna slumped behind the counter, head in hands.
"Maybe I should've opened a takoyaki stand…"
His phone buzzed. A message from a "Cooking with Curses" YouTube channel.
> Hey Chef Maou! Wanna do a collab segment for our "Exotic Eats from Infernal Planes" series? Dress code: shirt optional.
He blinked.
"…Screw it."
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Later That Night
The apartment was unusually quiet.
Sakura lay sprawled across the sofa, still in her office clothes, a glass of warm tea in her hand and a thundercloud over her head.
Ragna sat shirtless in the corner, editing footage of his disastrous YouTube collab, where his enchanted chili sauce ate through the camera lens.
Lily walked in wearing a fluffy pink onesie, a magical lollipop in one hand and a sock puppet named "General Snuggles" in the other.
She looked from one parent to the other, sighed deeply, and slapped her cheeks.
"Okay. Time for Operation: Cheer Up the Boomers."
Ragna raised a brow. "We're not boomers."
"You're both over a thousand."
"…Fair."
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Lily's Pep Talk
She climbed onto the coffee table like it was a podium.
"Ahem," Lily declared. "You two used to be literal gods. You burned kingdoms and fought sky dragons and sealed away cosmic evil. Now you're crying over spreadsheets and Yelp reviews."
Ragna and Sakura blinked.
"You are not sad rice balls!" she shouted, pointing dramatically. "You are spicy onigiri of destiny!"
Ragna chuckled. "She gets that from me."
Sakura gave a tired smile. "No, that level of drama is definitely inherited from you."
"I just don't want to screw up," Ragna said finally. "What if I can't do anything normal?"
Sakura sighed. "I used to be a hero. Now I fight printers."
Lily hopped between them.
"You don't need to be normal," she said gently. "You're my mom and dad. And that's already the coolest thing in the world."
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Scene Cut: Office After Dark
Back at the company, Goto-san was pacing nervously as he whispered into a glowing compact mirror.
"Yes, yes, I've kept her occupied. She's emotionally weakened."
A shadowed figure on the other side hissed, "You were supposed to drain her spiritual core. Not her enthusiasm for life!"
"My apologies, Lord Seraphile," Goto stammered.
The mirror flashed with light—revealing Seraphile, a Fallen Angel, and the one pulling strings in Tokyo's corporate underworld.
"She was the Lightbringer. She toppled the Citadel of Sorrows. And now she weeps into her keyboard?" Seraphile smirked. "Perfect. Once her resolve breaks, her divine seal will shatter. Then—"
"Uh, what about her husband?" Goto asked weakly.
There was a pause.
"…What husband?"
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Back at Home
Sakura stood on the balcony, wind brushing her hair. Ragna came up behind her, holding two cups of miso soup.
"I know I'm not good at this," he said. "The quiet life. Being... ordinary."
"You're not ordinary," Sakura replied. "You're ridiculous. Loud. Obnoxious. Stubborn. Kind of sexy with that stupid apron."
He chuckled. "You're pretty sexy with that glowing blade, too."
They clinked soup cups together.
Then, without warning, a golden sigil lit up across the sky—an ancient rune of divinity—and Sakura froze.
"…They're watching."
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