It began, as most disasters did, with a knock at Kazuo's apartment door.
Not a friendly knock. Not even the irritated pounding of his landlord demanding rent. No, this was the kind of slow, deliberate doom knock that carried the weight of infernal paperwork behind every thud.
Kazuo, sprawled half-asleep under his kotatsu with an open bag of shrimp chips, frowned. "If that's the landlord again, I'm telling him I already paid in divine ramen coupons."
Seraphina materialized beside him in a flare of feathers, eyes wide with dread. "Oh no. Oh no no no. It's them."
Kazuo blinked. "Jehovah's Witnesses?"
"Worse." She lowered her voice. "The Demon Union."
Another knock rattled the frame. This time, the door hissed with faint sulfur smoke.
Kazuo stuffed himself deeper under the kotatsu, like a turtle hiding in its shell. "Nope. Not answering. I'm off the clock."
"You don't have a clock, you are the clock!" Seraphina hissed.
Before either could stop it, the door swung open with a creak. Standing there was a demon in a wrinkled suit, briefcase in one claw, a name badge pinned crookedly to his lapel. His horns were stubby, his wings droopy, and his tie had coffee stains.
"Beelzebob, Local 666, Infernal Workers' Union," the demon droned, adjusting his glasses. "I'm here to file a formal complaint regarding 3,000 years of unpaid overtime."
Kazuo stared. "…Debt collector." He immediately ducked back under the kotatsu, clutching the blanket over his head. "Not home!"
Beelzebob sighed, pulling out a clipboard longer than his entire body. "Creator of Earth, God of All That Is, Employer of Infernal Subcontractors… you've been avoiding union dues since the Babylonian project. I'll need backpay in either blood gems, eternal screams, or direct deposit."
From beneath the kotatsu, Kazuo's muffled voice mumbled, "Try next door, I think Satan lives there."
Seraphina smacked him. "Get out here! This is serious!"
"I'm serious about hiding!" Kazuo retorted, curling tighter.
Beelzebob cleared his throat and plopped onto the tatami, his briefcase thunking down. "We can do this the easy way or the arbitration way. But either way, I'm not leaving until my hemorrhoids stop burning from this cursed paperwork backlog."
Kazuo peeked out just enough to glare. "…Hemorrhoids?"
"Yes," Beelzebob said flatly. "You try sitting in a lava cubicle for twelve millennia."
Seraphina slapped her forehead so hard a feather fell off. "Focus! He's not joking!"
Beelzebob pulled a thick folder from his case and began reading in monotone: "Article IV, Section 13: All infernal workers are entitled to ergonomic chairs, overtime pay, and at least one annual unholy barbeque. You, sir, have violated every clause."
Kazuo groaned. "This is why I outsourced. Too much red tape."
Beelzebob leaned forward, eyes glowing faintly. "We demand justice. And a dental plan."
Kazuo rubbed his temples. He could deal with cultists, exploding coffee machines, even sentient Roombas… but nothing terrified him more than paperwork. He waved a hand lazily. "Fine, fine. I bless your… whatever. Hemorrhoids, was it?"
There was a divine ping, like a notification from the cosmos itself.
Beelzebob froze. His eyes went wide. Then, slowly, he stood, shifting uncomfortably.
"…The pain," he whispered. "It's gone. My infernal hemorrhoids… healed."
Tears welled in the demon's eyes. Actual tears. He sniffled, wiping them with his claw. "All these years… the burning torment… the shame… and you—" his voice cracked— "you freed me."
Seraphina pinched the bridge of her nose. "You healed a demon's hemorrhoids instead of fixing three millennia of cosmic debt."
Kazuo shrugged from under the kotatsu. "One problem at a time."
Beelzebob dropped his clipboard with a thud and fell to his knees. "Great Creator… maybe you're not the heartless slumlord we thought you were."
"I am a heartless slumlord," Kazuo corrected, reaching for another shrimp chip. "Just a lazy one."
But Beelzebob wasn't listening. He was already pulling out his phone, texting the group chat: Guys… he cured me. He's not so bad. #BlessedByTheBoss
Within an hour, the Demon Union headquarters was ablaze—not with fire, but with hope. Reports spread that the Creator had returned and was "willing to hear worker grievances, provided snacks were offered."
Demons lined up outside Kazuo's building, briefcases and grievances in hand. One needed dental insurance. Another demanded hazard pay for haunting clowns. A third wanted a paid vacation in Florida.
Kazuo groaned as the line snaked down the block. "I just wanted a nap…"
Seraphina looked ready to combust. "Do you realize what you've done?! You've started a demon labor movement! If Heaven finds out—"
From outside, a demon shouted joyfully, "He even heals hemorrhoids!"
The line erupted in cheers.
Kazuo sighed, slouching deeper under the kotatsu. "…At least they're not asking me to smite anyone."
"Yet," Seraphina muttered darkly.