Like his fellow countryn, Beba was a black man with a very long na.
If his na were translated into one of the more popular modern Latin-based languages, it could easily stretch to dozens of letters. That was simply the tradition of his holand.
For example: when he was born, his body was weaker than other children, so his father inserted "very skinny" into his na. Since it was sumrti, naturally his father also added "so hot today." On top of that, because Beba's mother's cooking was infamous throughout the village as devilish cuisine, and his father had long borne resentnt toward the food at ho, he smoothly added "tastes awful" into the na as well.
And if you thought it ended there, you'd be too naïve. According to local tradition, evaluations from either parent also had to be added. Things like "likes pretty won," "very strong," "snores," "good at shooting" — all those had to be included too.
By rights, his na should have already been long enough. But tradition also gave Beba the right to build upon his own na. So, as he grew older, he happily began adding new pieces himself.
The first ti he ate a banana, he added: "bananas are delicious." When he realized his family was poor, he added: "probably going to stay poor for a while." When he began exercising, he added: "eat more food." At the blossoming of his first spring in life, he added: "big dicks are justice." When he beca a mber of the Yomi organization, he added: "strongest in combat."
In short, his na contained everything — the ti and place of his birth, comnts from his loved ones, his favorite foods, his proudest skills, his position in the organization. If you counted seriously, it wasn't just dozens of letters — not even a hundred would be enough.
And recently, he added a new phrase: "hates business trips."
The reason was simple. Not long ago, he had gone on a business trip to Japan, where his new "colleagues" introduced him to what they called a "cushy assignnt."
The result? As soon as they t, he was dragged out to Tokyo Bay — the kind of place people usually used to dispose of bodies. Before he could even react, he was slapped into the dirt with only his head sticking above ground, then received a "so weak" evaluation. Though that only happened once, and he hadn't been summoned again since, the mory remained fresh.
Now, what he wanted most in life was to leave Japan and never return.
These days, whenever he heard soone calling for him, he felt uneasy all over.
Like now.
"Beba, you've got work," said a Yomi mber who entered his room at the base. "It's a call for you."
"I hate phones!" Reluctantly pausing the martial arts fight video he was watching, Beba glared furiously at the man.
It was this bastard who had set him up last ti.
"Oh, really? Don't say I didn't warn you. That lord has returned. He requires service now, and you are the one designated in this base." The man sneered coldly at him.
Beba's eyes went wide.
These days, fewer and fewer people in Yomi dared to say Hikigaya Hachiman's na aloud.
On one hand, it was out of respect for a powerful figure — this had always been the Yomi's style: the stronger a man, the higher the level of awe, until at a certain point even his na could not be spoken, only a title used instead.
On the other hand, it was more complicated. Call it fear, perhaps. At the very least, people thought: better to be too respectful than not respectful enough. Beba himself deeply understood this.
In truth, judging by his actions, Hikigaya Hachiman wasn't brutal at all. Except for the ti when so idiot newbie provoked him at the start, he had never killed anyone just because he was in a bad mood. Yet, for reasons no one could explain, most Yomi fighters couldn't help but feel nervous whenever they were near him.
For the Hand-to-hand Yomi division's warriors, however, eting Hikigaya Hachiman was still considered an honor. After all, he stood above even the rank of "One Shadow, Nine Fists," a powerhouse so strong people didn't even know what nickna to give him.
Of course, such a strong man was not easy to serve. But if soday he happened to be in a good mood, felt well attended to, and casually gave a pointer or two — that would be a fortune beyond asure.
But Beba had no interest in being summoned. He just wanted to be a quiet black guy watching his fight recordings.
Martial arts and staying at ho — of the two, he preferred staying at ho.
But what he wanted didn't matter. So, obediently, he went to the base leader to accept his task, then set out. He didn't waste ti along the way, and soon arrived at his destination.
It was the sa familiar residence — but now its master had returned.
At the gate, with a nervous heart, Beba pressed the doorbell. After a few breaths, the door opened. Standing there was a robed Egyptian, who looked him over, then stepped aside.
Beba glanced curiously at the man.
He wasn't unfamiliar with Egyptian sorcerers. The martial art he practiced was derived from ancient Egyptian stick-fighting, and back when he wanted to improve his skills, he had gone to Egypt and had plenty of dealings with them.
And in Egypt, the vast majority of sorcerers ca from the Nine Gods Cult.
Yomi and the Nine Gods Cult didn't have a particularly good relationship, but they weren't enemies either. The Cult had always focused on protecting ancient temples and guarding pharaohs' tombs, so they had little overlap with Yomi, whose main business was military rcenary work.
Bypassing the sorcerer, Beba entered the living room and saw the man who had summoned him.
Sitting on the sofa, holding a book and absorbed in reading, was Hikigaya Hachiman, one of the Seven Demon Kings of the world. From Beba's angle, he could only see his profile.
Perhaps because his family wasn't around, Hikigaya's deanor looked rather serious.
"Since you're here, have so water."
It was Hikigaya who spoke. The next mont, a cup of water was handed to Beba by the sorcerer at his side.
Though he wasn't thirsty, Beba nervously gave a respectful nod of thanks to Hikigaya, accepted the cup, and drained it in one go.
"Sit." Hikigaya pointed to the sofa opposite. Once Beba sat down, he asked: "I hear your holand is part of what used to be Nubia?"
Nubia?
Beba racked his brain.
He was never interested in terms like "used to be." He'd never studied his holand's history seriously. All he knew was that his country was called Sudan.
"My country is Sudan. I don't know if that has any connection with what you call Nubia," he replied respectfully.
"Oh. Then, in your area, are there any ancient Egyptian buildings left behind?"
Buildings?
Would grass huts count?
Beba felt he should add "hates history the most" to his na.
"I heard when I was at ho that there used to be lots of gold nearby, but later it was all dug up by the Egyptians. That's what everyone says."
At this, he cast a disdainful glance at the sorcerer by the doorway — and received an equally angry glare in return.
"Oh? Then that's about right. Didn't you leave behind any legends or stories?" Hikigaya closed the book and looked at Beba with curiosity.
It had already been a month since Hikigaya returned to Chiba.
None of the gods who had left Nikko Mountain had appeared again. On the surface, it seed there was nothing to worry about.
But Hikigaya believed Horus would co back one day.
After all, they'd clashed twice already. There was no rule saying gods were more broad-minded than humans.
Hikigaya wasn't the type to fight unprepared battles, nor did he like endless entanglents. He had already decided: next ti he saw Horus, he would kill him.
Calling Beba here wasn't a spur-of-the-mont idea. His file indicated that he was a descendant of the ancient Nubian people.
The Nubians had lived roughly in what is today northern Sudan and southern Egypt. At first, they were part of the sa ethnic group as the ancient Egyptians, but later mixed with other peoples.
Before the Egyptian empire turned its attention to the Near East — that is, before they were thrashed by Moses' relatives — Nubians had been Egypt's number one rivals. As a result, Nubia was heavily influenced by Upper Egyptian civilization. Thus, there ought to be relics of Horus left there as well.
It wasn't that Hikigaya had no faith in Egypt itself. But too many people had already dug there. Pyramids, the Valley of the Kings, temples — unless it was sothing like the buried city of Rasses hidden beneath settlents, anything that could be excavated had already been cleaned out. After so many years, there wasn't much good stuff left.
The world's four great museums could testify to that…
But for Hikigaya, only those ruins left undisturbed had real research value.
Now, he hoped this black man before him could bring him a surprise.
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