Narrator POV.
Smack!
Isagi slapped himself sharply across the cheek and shook his head side to side as fast as he could, like he was trying to forcibly eject any thought that didn't belong in that moment. Doubt, confusion, the potential identity crisis and existential dread… all of that could wait.
He'd fall into that abyss later. When he was alone. When he survived. Not now. Not here. Letting himself get dragged down by those thoughts would only lead him to death right in front of that devil.
It was ironic.
That was the first devil that had managed to make him doubt himself, even if only for an instant. The first one that had planted a crack in his mind in the middle of battle.
"I don't need you putting your crap in my head," Isagi said, wearing a confident sideways smile. "I'm still just a teenager."
He wasn't going to let that kind of conversation throw him off. Besides… he wanted to test his new power.
With a smooth motion, he unsheathed his katana. The metal let out a faint sound as it slid free, reflecting the light in a dangerous way. Isagi wanted to see how strong he had become, how far he could push Wind Breathing with the power now surging through his body.
He raised the katana over his head, taking a firm stance.
"What do you think you're going to do with that toy?" the Leech Devil mocked. "Something that small won't even scratch me."
Isagi didn't respond.
He simply reinforced the blade and his arms with cursed energy, the pressure around the katana rising so tangibly it could almost be felt in the air. The atmosphere began to vibrate, compress, bending to his intent.
"Wind Breathing: Stance I made up a while ago: Cutting Pressure."
The slash was a single motion. Fast. Merciless.
For one second, the world fell completely silent.
The compressed wind blade tore through the Leech Devil so quickly that its body took a moment to understand what had happened. Only then did a perfect line appear across its torso…
And the body split in two.
Slowly, the devil's body began to separate into two opposite halves. The cut was clean—almost flawless. The wet, dripping sound of blood pouring onto the ground like an open faucet no one bothered to shut off was the only thing that broke the silence left behind by the attack.
Then came the crash.
Both halves slammed heavily into the ground, splattering blood and remains everywhere.
Isagi watched calmly. The attack had been far stronger than when he used it against the Bat Devil. No doubt about it. Thanks to Flowing Red Scale, he was now capable of launching real wind blades—sharp, compact, and lethal.
(Damn… at this rate Wind Breathing is gonna start looking real.) Isagi thought, letting out a low whistle of surprise. "You're late to the party."
Then he turned his attention to the group of Devil Hunters who had witnessed everything from a distance. Aki Hayakawa's group.
If he remembered correctly, it was Himeno, Kobeni, and Arai. Arai… some random dude Isagi would forget five minutes after seeing him, and to make it worse, he was a simp for Himeno, who was a simp for Aki, who was a simp for Makima.
(Damn, what a domino effect.) Isagi couldn't help but laugh to himself.
Aki stepped forward calmly, pulling out a cigarette as he stared at the devil's corpse split in two. His expression was serious, controlled, as always.
"You've got a lot to explain," he said in a calm voice. Then he lifted his gaze and pointed directly at Isagi. "But first… you. Go to Public Safety. Miss Makima wants to talk to you."
"Who, me?" Isagi pointed at himself, stunned by the request. He looked up at the sky and sighed.
(God… it's me again.)
.
.
.
.
.
Isagi's footsteps echoed softly against the wooden floor of the building, each tap marking the inevitable march toward his possible death sentence. As he walked down the hallway, he was seriously considering changing countries… changing his face… and even changing his name.
In fact, he already had his new identity planned out: Chucho Pérez, a humble corn farmer living peacefully in Cuernavaca, far away from devils, devil hunters, and red-haired women with unsettling smiles.
The reason for those extremely specific thoughts? Simple.
Makima had called for him.
And that was never a good sign.
His danger sense had triggered multiple times as he approached the redhead's office. It wasn't a mild itch or fleeting paranoia—it was that crystal-clear feeling of something is wrong. Very wrong.
Isagi stopped in front of the door. His hand hovered in the air for an eternal second, torn between knocking… or running without looking back, maybe throwing himself out a window and disappearing from the country that very night.
(I'm a pussy if I don't do it…) he thought, grinding his teeth. (Remember why you're doing this. Work. I want a job!)
With that motivational mantra—questionable, but effective—he gathered his courage.
And without knocking, he opened the door.
Makima had her back to him, standing in front of the massive window in her office. She watched the street peacefully: people walking back and forth, cars obediently stopping when the traffic light turned red, the city functioning as if the world wasn't filled with devils and secrets.
Everything looked… dangerously normal.
Isagi carefully closed the door behind him.
(I want my mom…) he thought immediately. He straightened his posture, erased any trace of nervousness from his face, and adopted a serious, restrained expression—almost identical to Megumi's whenever he tried to look more mature than he really was.
"What did you call me for, Miss Makima?"
A small smile forming on her lips, Makima slowly turned around. The sound of her footsteps was soft, almost elegant, and then she spoke.
"Isagi Fushiguro."
(SHE SAID MY FULL NAME!)
Isagi's heart jumped violently in his chest. Internally, panic was already taking shape, because nothing good ever came after a woman said your full name in that tone. It gave him Vietnam flashbacks… and he hadn't even been to Vietnam.
Makima walked calmly toward him, circling him without hurry, as if evaluating something interesting. Her hand slid onto Isagi's shoulder and squeezed gently—an innocent-looking gesture… that had the opposite effect.
Isagi went completely stiff. Rigid as a statue. Even his face lost a bit of color.
"Why are you so tense, Isagi?" Makima asked with a slight tilt of her head. "You've done an excellent job. Two devils in a single day… not bad for someone new." Her voice was soft as silk, kind, almost comforting. Too much. "Even though you left your patrol area, it was to hunt a devil. So relax—there's nothing wrong with that."
Makima pressed his shoulder a little harder. Just a little. Her touch was still delicate… but firm, like a silent reminder that she was completely in control.
Inside, Isagi was a mess.
When it came to Makima, he didn't allow himself to act like usual. No jokes, no childish attitude, no internal memes. With her, any mistake could be the last.
(No, no, no! Bro, bro, bro!) he thought as the stabbing sensation behind his head grew more intense. (My danger sense is going absolutely insane.)
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End of the chapter.