a bunch of colored stones fall through his fingers and into a giant chest. “But this is also a friendly contest between our two great nations. If the grand-prize winner is from the Kingdom Beyond, then you get to win your Raja back this.” The Serpent King held up a glowing white jewel in his hands, letting it catch and split the light into dancing sparks. “The famed Chintamoni Thought Stone, granter of wishes and long life.”
“That must be why the Raja agreed,” said Baba. “A chance for the kingdom to get back the jewel. But what is in it for that scummy snake, that … that … pooper-scooper?”
Needless to say, Baba didn’t curse very much, so this was strong talk for him. The thing was, Sesha had made his first seven kids—my brothers—into one awful seven-headed snake, Naga. He’d then tried to do the same to baby me, but my moon mother had stopped him and helped my adopted parents flee across the dimensions to New Jersey with me. Sesha hadn’t even known I was still alive until last fall, when the spell protecting Ma, Baba, and me had expired, sucking my adopted parents back to the Kingdom Beyond. When he’d seen me recently, Sesha had again tried to make me into one of his minions. Needless to say, none of this made Sesha very popular in our house.
On the TV, the Serpent King went on, “If the winner is someone from the Kingdom of Serpents, why, then, we win the Poroshmoni Stone.” The image on-screen cut to a still of the yellow stone in the Raja’s turban. “Either way, the twin jewels will be reunited, in one kingdom or the other.”
“It’s not going to be a fair contest,” I muttered. “Not when Sesha is involved.” But even as I said this, I could imagine how good it might feel to win the contest and beat Sesha at his own game. I felt a little dizzy at the thought.
“Thousands of hopeful contestants are filling out their required paperwork at Who Wants to Be a Demon Slayer? official registration offices, located conveniently throughout the Kingdom Beyond, the Kingdom of Serpents, and multiple points in between,” Sesha said as the screen cut to what looked like miles-long lines of human-appearing and snaky applicants. In one place, there was a stampede as the doors of the registration center were opened. People were pushing and shoving each other in their desperate efforts to get a registration form, ripping papers out of each other’s hands.
“Only a lucky few will pass our rigorous applicant selection process. Those who do will face tests both physical and mental. You will fight specially selected demons that challenge your every skill. Already, my minions are rounding up rakkhosh, khokkosh, doito, and danav into a magically reinforced demon detention center specially constructed by The Serpent King Industries!”
The screen switched to some kind of undersea dungeon with row after row of closed steel doors. Even though we couldn’t see any of the demons, the sound of moaning and crying coming from behind the locked doors was a little disturbing. And there was the TSK Industries logo again on the steel doors—of course! TSK must stand for “The Serpent King!”
“Yes, my modern-day gladiators!” Sesha tossed back his head and cackled evilly, like a movie villain plotting world destruction. “You chosen few will fight these monsters, and those of you who win will become not just heroes, not just reality TV superstars, but demon-slaying legends!”
Even though I knew he couldn’t see me through the TV, I squirmed under Sesha’s gaze. It was like he’d weaseled out my deepest desire—to be a hero, a star, a legend—and made it all dirty. I felt muddled and ashamed. I wondered how anyone related to such a bad guy could ever hope to become something good.
Then, before disappearing into a cloud of green smoke, the Serpent King shouted, “So good luck, you stupid contestants! I’m afraid you’ll need it!”
The two cobras on Sesha’s arms looked at the camera and said in clipped voices, “Offer valid only for official selected Who Wants to Be a Demon Slayer? contestants. Offer for participation in the Who Wants to Be a Demon Slayer? contest cannot be combined with other offers to The Snake King amusement parks, vacation cruises, or TSK All-You-Can-Kill chain of restaurants. Use at your own risk. The Snake King, Inc., is not liable for any loss of limb, loss of perspective, or any hospital, tailor, or funeral expenses.”
And