Steven's eyes widened, a jolt running through him. RedHairedDevil? he muttered, voice barely a whisper as he leaned toward the screen. The name didn't click—not from comics, not from anime, not from anything he'd binged back home. He held still, waiting for the system to cough up more, but the panel just blinked, stubborn with its new username.
"Alright, system, who's this?" he said under his breath, low enough the thin walls wouldn't carry it.
[Ding.]
[No further data. User "RedHairedDevil" joined Dimensional Chat Group. Interaction advised for context.]
"Interaction advised," he snorted, shaking his head.
He glanced at the door—locked, solid. Rico's building was dead quiet, but he didn't trust it. Fingers hovered over the chat panel, ready to toss out a quick hello, but then—
Makima's POV – Tokyo, Japan, Public Safety HQ, April 9, 2018
The office was silent, just the low buzz of lights and the faint shuffle of papers on Makima's desk. Tokyo's skyline gleamed outside, sharp and cold, all glass and neon. She sat still, legs crossed, yellow eyes scanning a report—another minor devil, not worth her time. Her red braid rested neat, one loose strand catching the light like a spark.
She sighed, pushing the report aside. Her fingers brushed her coffee mug, warm, its bitter scent steadying her. Another long night.
[Ding.]
A chime sliced the quiet, metallic, too close. Makima's head tilted, eyes narrowing. She was alone—her team knew not to linger this late. It wasn't her phone, silent on the desk, or the office's old intercom. Something else.
A blue screen flickered to life, hovering inches from her face, edges shimmering like a mirage. She didn't move, didn't blink. Just studied the text, calm as ever.
[Ding.]
[Welcome to the Dimensional Chat Group, User "RedHairedDevil"!]
"Curious," she murmured, voice soft. A chat group? Dimensional? She'd dealt with devils, bent them to her will—this was different. No devil's stench, no familiar pull. Tech, maybe. Or something stranger.
The interface was clean, simple. Four names:
- Admin_Tarnished
- 5th_Hokage
- GodWannabe
- RedHairedDevil
Her gaze lingered on "Admin." Leader, or just acting like one? The others sounded like aliases, masks. Like hers. She leaned back, arms crossed. A trap? A game? She'd play along, see where it led.
Another ping.
[5th_Hokage: Yo, RedHairedDevil? Wild name. You human or what?]
A faint smile curved Makima's lips. Bold, maybe cocky. 5th_Hokage carried weight, like someone used to being heard. She typed carefully, giving nothing away.
Tsunade's POV – Hokage's Office, Hidden Leaf Village
[RedHairedDevil: Not human, not demon. Worse, maybe. Just here to see what this chat's about. Care to fill me in?]
Tsunade's brow lifted. Slick. Dodging without being rude. RedHairedDevil wasn't some kid mouthing off—every word felt measured.
[5th_Hokage: Alright, fair. It's the Dimensional Chat Group—links people across worlds. I am a leader of a village, got dragged in yesterday. Tarnished sort of runs the show. GodWannabe's a kid with god compleex. That's the deal so far. Your turn—what's your story?]
She sent it, gulping water to clear her head from last night's sake. RedHairedDevil didn't seem like the type to open up, but she'd nudge anyway.
Makima's POV – Public Safety HQ
Makima read it twice. Village leader—power, responsibility. Different worlds, then. Devils crossed realms too; this might tie in. Or not. Either way, it was a thread to pull.
[RedHairedDevil: Sounds like a lot of work, running a village. I deal with people—problems, mostly. My world's messy. I keep it tidy. This group—any point beyond talking?]
Neutral, calm. Testing the edges.
[5th_Hokage: Problems? Bet we'd have some stories. It's mostly chat for now—info, some trades. Tarnished got sake from me, I got healing gear from him. System lets you swap stuff across worlds. Weird, but it works. You got anything to throw in, or just scoping it out?]
Makima's smile sharpened. Trading—real objects moving across dimensions. That was power. If items worked, what else could? Information, maybe more. She'd go slow, test the limits.
[RedHairedDevil: Healing gear? Like what?]
Short, curious. Let them talk.
Light's POV – Tokyo, Japan, 2006
Light leaned back at his desk, the Death Note shut nearby. The chat panel glowed faint. He hadn't typed since poking at Tarnished. Now—RedHairedDevil.
He watched, silent. Tsunade was loud, open. RedHairedDevil wasn't. She was careful, every word deliberate. Light's eyes narrowed. He knew that game. Played it himself.
[5th_Hokage: Gave Tarnished a salve—stops bleeding fast, seals cuts. Plus a scroll for blood stains. He's had a rough time. You?]
[RedHairedDevil: Blood stains? Guy sounds sloppy. No scrolls here. But people listen when I talk. Usually.]
Light's jaw tightened. Not boasting—stating fact. RedHairedDevil wasn't just sure of herself. She was trouble. Like him. Maybe more.
He stayed quiet. Let them show more first.
Steven's POV – Wyckoff Apartment, Brooklyn
Steven perched on the bed's edge, half-typed message forgotten. RedHairedDevil. The name sat wrong, like a warning. Tsunade was spilling too much—salve, scroll, all of it. He rubbed his eyes, thoughts racing.
Who is it?.