Inside the room, Renji sat on the sofa, watching Kishibe—who was seated across from him—devouring slice after slice of pizza with her head bowed. He glanced up at the wall clock, his expression growing impatient.
"Hey. Didn't you say you wanted to talk? How much longer are you going to eat?"
Not long ago, Kishibe had suggested they talk. Renji had agreed. They'd entered the room and taken seats on opposite sofas.
But the long table between them was piled high with pizza boxes. The pizzas, originally ordered by the gang members, were astonishing in number—likely because of Public Safety's siege that day, most had gone uneaten and no one had bothered to clear them away.
They were stacked haphazardly on the tabletop, forming a small mountain.
As soon as Kishibe sat down, she'd grabbed a slice and shoved it into her mouth. Her movements were fluid, almost instinctive—exaggerated in a way that was hard to describe.
Perhaps it was because she was the Hunger Devil. It was as if she'd entered this room solely to eat.
Renji had initially thought she'd ordered it all herself and asked her about it. Kishibe, chewing, hadn't even looked at him, hadn't spoken—just shook her head.
At first, her eating had been somewhat restrained, with small, careful bites. But after Renji helped himself to a slice as well, she'd glanced at him and then begun eating more and more ravenously, as if afraid he'd snatch the food away.
Each bite from her small mouth produced a wet, smacking sound, accompanied by a continuous, soft chuff-chuff of exertion.
And because she was eating with such single-minded focus, thick strands of saliva would occasionally escape her lips, dripping in long strings onto the pizza below. Kishibe would then pick up that very slice and stuff it into her mouth, swallowing it down.
"I said, are you listening? Can you please stop eating for a minute? Can't you eat after we talk?"
Kishibe didn't react, still chewing steadily. If anything, Renji's urging seemed to make her eat even faster, her cheeks puffing out like a chipmunk's.
Renji sighed and let himself slump back on the sofa, watching Kishibe eat as his mind began to drift.
In his daze, a surreal, dreamlike feeling settled over him. Here he was, in the middle of a serious Public Safety operation, dealing with armed gang members and devils with terrifying abilities—any moment could be his last. And yet, he was sitting here watching a devil eat pizza.
"What am I even doing right now…? Oh my god… Am I dreaming…?"
He pinched his own cheek. It hurt. He wasn't dreaming. He looked back at Kishibe.
Her face remained its usual expressionless mask, only her small mouth moving ceaselessly—chew, swallow, repeat.
But Renji noticed her head wasn't tilted to the side anymore. Probably because she was eating.
Lying there, he started to feel drowsy. Then his gaze drifted back toward the doorway, and he suddenly remembered the Teacher Devil—still stuck in the wall, locked in that compromising position.
He wasn't sleepy anymore.
He stood up and walked out into the corridor. Kishibe didn't even ask where he was going, letting him leave without a word.
Renji reached the hallway and found the Teacher Devil still embedded in the wall, her two black-stockinged legs clearly visible, twitching occasionally.
He positioned himself directly behind her, his eyes fixed on her most prominent feature: the full, rounded curves of her rear, tightly outlined by her fitted skirt.
"Wall sex… wall sex… I've got it!"
An idea sparked. Renji pushed open the door to the adjacent room and stepped inside.
Inside, the Teacher Devil's upper body was visible where it emerged from the wall. Her head was lowered, her delicate, glistening lips slightly parted, thin strands of viscous saliva dripping from them.
Thread after thread fell to the floor, forming a sticky puddle. Her arms hung limply at her sides. She showed no reaction to Renji's entrance.
Earlier, Renji's "female-targeting" attack had sent her over the edge again and again, wave after wave of release flooding out of her. The Teacher Devil had sensitive skin, and the overwhelming intensity and frequency of those climaxes had left her dazed, her mind still foggy.
Renji grabbed the Teacher Devil's hair, tied back in a neat bun, and pulled hard, roughly hauling her upper body upright. He noted her vacant, unfocused expression and the slick strand of saliva trailing from her chin.
She still showed no reaction to his rough handling.
"Out cold? That works too."
He released his grip, and her upper body slumped back down.
To better align the Teacher Devil's current posture with the "wall sex" concept, Renji used the Clothesline Pole to poke two small holes in the wall, one to the left and one to the right of her embedded torso. He then lifted her limp arms and inserted each one halfway into a hole.
As he did so, her upper body was lifted slightly, and the heavy, full swell of her exposed chest swayed with the movement.
Renji searched the room and found some old newspapers. He stuffed them around her partially inserted arms, wedging them tightly. After a moment's thought, for good measure, he also crammed newspaper into the gap around her waist, jamming it in firmly.
Now it was the perfect "wall sex" pose. In this position, it would be nearly impossible for the Teacher Devil to exert any force—her arms had no leverage. Even if she tried to pull herself free, the wedged newspaper would hold her trapped against the wall.
Renji closed the room door and returned to the corridor. Standing behind the Teacher Devil, he could still sense the lingering tremors of her earlier climax running through her. At that very moment, her body gave another slight shudder, and a fresh wave of warmth escaped her.
As she convulsed, her plump rear swayed gently from side to side, full and resilient.
Renji let his transformed state recede, finding it more practical. Then he raised his hand and brought it down hard on the Teacher Devil's full cheek with a sharp smack!
—SMACK!—
Almost instantly, a muffled, elongated cry came from the Teacher Devil on the other side of the wall.
The building's soundproofing was good, and with the newspaper stuffed into the gaps around her, Renji in the hallway couldn't make out the words—only that she seemed to be screaming.
"This is how it has to be. Not being able to hear the other person clearly, only going by feel… That's the essence of wall sex."