Narrator POV.
(Such a good dog…) —she thought with a faint smile.
Despite Isagi's laid-back personality and his somewhat big-mouthed way of speaking—because yes, vocabulary wasn't exactly his strong suit—he could perfectly appreciate the beauty of a woman as striking as Makima.
After all, the redhead was undeniably beautiful; that was an unquestionable fact. No matter how crazy she was, that came first.
But the moment Isagi realized the direction his thoughts were heading, he quickly shook his head, as if trying to shake off those dangerous ideas. He was fully aware that he was falling straight into the most obvious and lethal trap Makima possessed at first glance: her hypnotic beauty.
(No… focus. You're near the Control Devil.) —he thought, lightly tapping his own head as a reprimand for letting his imagination run wild. (I can't look at her ass or think about how hot and gorgeous she is… I have to focus. Focus. I'm a winner, everyone else is a loser. I eat losers for breakfast.) —he repeated to himself, shamelessly stealing the line from Lightning McQueen with absolute seriousness. (I need to stay calm. For now, I'll stop acting like a retard.) —Isagi concluded, letting a faint, almost imperceptible smile form on his lips.
He was going to use his knowledge to his advantage. Isagi acted like an idiot, yes—but he wasn't one. His stupidity was more of a strategic attitude than a real limitation.
The strongest always tended to cope with their problems through humor. Satoru Gojo and Deadpool were perfect examples of how humor could help endure bad situations.
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Some time later…
Location: Public Safety Headquarters.
The interactions between Denji and Makima were exactly as Isagi remembered them: brief, tense, and one-sided, with Denji acting like an excited puppy and Makima smiling as if she already knew exactly which buttons to press.
Isagi, for his part, stayed quiet and off to the side, observing everything without intervening. He had his reasons: he preferred to keep a low profile… and besides, he didn't give a single fuck about what happened to Denji. It wasn't his problem.
Inside Makima's office, she handed them uniforms. Both changed in silence, and when they returned, Isagi noticed they weren't alone.
There was someone else in the room.
He was a tall, handsome young man with an elegant presence. His medium-length black hair fell neatly, partially tied back.
His dark blue eyes seemed to observe everything with calm professionalism. He wore the Devil Hunter uniform perfectly: a clean suit, a neatly adjusted tie, and a pair of black earrings that gave him a distinctive touch.
Strapped to his back was what was clearly a sheathed sword.
Denji blinked several times, confused, unable to process who the new guy in the room was.
He was also wearing the uniform… but, as always, badly. His shirt looked wrinkled as if he'd put it on in a fistfight, his sleeves rolled up unevenly, and his tie hanging crookedly to one side. He even looked like he had fought the uniform before wearing it.
Isagi, on the other hand, looked much more presentable. He wore the same uniform, yes—but impeccably arranged: smooth shirt without a single wrinkle, sleeves rolled up evenly to his elbows. Nothing excessive, but enough to make it clear that he knew how to dress… or at least that he didn't dress blindly like Denji did.
(Now I understand the saying "you can dress a monkey in silk, but it's still a monkey") —Isagi thought, glancing sideways at Denji, who seemed completely unaware of his own aesthetic disaster. (And damn, what a low-budget aesthetic. Not very dog, very low quality.)
Isagi didn't give it much importance. He knew perfectly well who the young man in the office was. For now, he kept a calm expression; after all, with Megumi's appearance, looking perpetually annoyed came naturally.
He walked forward with firm, controlled steps, stopping beside Aki Hayakawa, who greeted him with nothing more than a brief nod. Isagi returned the gesture without a word.
When Denji took position on Aki's other side, Aki didn't even glance at him. To him, Denji's existence was entirely expendable.
The reason was obvious: the sloppy uniform, the relaxed and slightly slouched posture… everything about Denji screamed "zero professionalism." From Aki's rigid discipline, Denji was clearly someone who didn't take the job seriously.
Makima, seated behind her desk, observed the trio with absolute calm. Her hands were clasped atop the desk, her gaze moving between the three like someone examining pieces on a board she already knew far too well.
—Alright —she finally said, her tone soft but firm—. Now that all three of you are here, I'll tell you that you'll be partners. Denji, Isagi… this is Aki Hayakawa. —She gestured toward the young man who had remained silent until now—. A veteran with over three years of service.
Denji blinked, confused.
—Partner? Wasn't I going to work with you, Makima? —he asked, a mix of disappointment and surprise in his voice.
In his mind, working by her side was a golden dream: spending time with a beautiful woman, getting closer little by little, and maybe—just maybe—building that kind of relationship he fantasized about.
But now… now everything seemed to be collapsing right in front of him. His plan wasn't going anywhere near how he'd imagined it at the start.
—Don't say stupid things. —Aki spoke for the first time, his tone calm but sharp, each word landing like a direct blow to the blond's ego—. There's a world of difference between you and Miss Makima.
Without saying anything else, Aki turned around and began walking toward the exit. As he did, he reached out and grabbed the back of Denji's shirt collar, dragging him along effortlessly.
—We're going on patrol. Move it. —Aki made his intentions clear with an authority that allowed no argument.
Meanwhile, Denji threw a tantrum like a child who'd had his favorite candy taken away.
—I don't wanna! —Denji dropped to the ground, forcing Aki to stop abruptly—. I wanna work with Makima! —he crossed his arms over his chest, making zero effort to move.
—I wanted to be a soccer player, but that didn't happen, so don't complain. —Isagi mocked, hands still in his pockets, wearing a faint but very satisfied smile.
For a moment, the idea of grabbing Denji by the ankles and carrying him like a roasted pig crossed Isagi's mind. His smile widened, and he nearly tried it.
Makima, seeing the mess they were making, let out a soft sigh and stood up. With calm, elegant steps, she walked around her desk and approached Denji.
She stopped in front of him and leaned down slightly. Then, with delicate, precise movements, she took the boy's tie between her fingers and began adjusting it properly.
—If you turn out to be a good asset to the team… we can work together. —Makima lifted her face to look him directly in the eyes, a small smile forming on her lips—. That's why you need to do your best.
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Minutes later… Location: Tokyo streets.
After Denji's little tantrum, the group of three walked through the city streets. People came and went without stopping: some heading to work, others shopping, and a few simply strolling around. Despite the constant threat of devils, Tokyo was still alive; people had grown used to living alongside danger.
The sound of cars passing by, murmured conversations, and the general bustle were the only things accompanying the tense silence between the Devil Hunters.
—Hey, partner Aki. —Denji raised his hand like he was in class, completely oblivious to the awkward atmosphere—. Does Makima have a boyfriend? —he blurted out, as blunt as ever.
—Could you be any more desperate? —Isagi raised an eyebrow, looking at Denji with a mix of mockery and pity.
The guy was really chasing after Makima—so much that he even wanted to know the most personal details of her life.
Aki ignored the question completely and kept walking, always two steps ahead, as if that small distance helped him maintain his sanity.
—I'm not desperate, I'm just curious. —Denji replied, pursing his lips as he looked at his superior again—. So… does Makima have a boyfriend?
Aki didn't answer.
Denji's eyebrow twitched in frustration when he realized he was being completely ignored, so he quickened his pace to walk beside him.
—Come on, Aki! Answer me, don't be mean! —Denji insisted, his tone bordering on pleading.
Aki finally stopped and turned around with an expression that clearly said enough.
—You. Follow me. —He grabbed Denji by the shirt without any delicacy and began dragging him toward a nearby alley. Before entering, he glanced over his shoulder at Isagi.—You wait here. We'll be back soon.
Without another word, Aki turned forward again and disappeared into the alley, Denji in tow—clearly intent on giving him an "educational" lesson.
Meanwhile, Isagi rubbed his nonexistent beard thoughtfully, watching as the two vanished into the shadows of the dark, empty alley.
He knew exactly what was about to happen in there: Aki would beat Denji for being annoying, and then Denji—stubborn as ever—would kick him in the balls about seven times until he passed out. That was their dynamic.
—Should I get involved? …Nah. This is a canon event, and when it's canon, it's canon. —Isagi leaned against the wall, letting out a small sigh as his mind returned to the plan he'd been putting together lately.
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End of the chapter.