The air smelled of honey and ozone. The hum of divine energy thrummed beneath every stone.

You stood on the eastern veranda of your residence, watching the celestial gardens stretch beneath you. Angels drifted between the cherry trees below, their wings—some white, some silver, some deep crimson—catching the fading light like scattered jewels. A few of them walked shirtless in the warm breeze, laughing, wings half-spread in contentment.

The Shogunal estate was vast. Sweeping rooflines carved with dragons and phoenixes. Lanterns just beginning to glow with soft inner light as evening approached. A koi pond reflected the gradient sky, ripples catching the last rays of the dying sun.

The harmony was peaceful.

Then the ground trembled.

Below, at the garden entrance, stood Katsuki Bakugou. King of Hell.

His massive black horns curled against the golden sky. Shadow-fire wings folded against his back, flickering lazily. His crimson eyes were fixed upward—directly at you.

He wore dark, flowing robes lined with deep crimson—a Shogun’s attire for visiting Heaven’s courts. He looked every inch the demon king.

And he was smirking.