Narrator POV.
[You're alone, bro]
—(Shut up, System, you're not helping.) —he thought irritably. (No. Focus.) —Isagi inhaled deeply, then exhaled, regaining his composure. Maybe… this was an opportunity.
Now that he knew Makima's power didn't work on him, the risk was smaller. Or at least, that's what he wanted to believe.
Without saying anything else, he took a step forward. He opened his arms and wrapped them around Makima.
The redhead didn't move. She simply stayed there, feeling her body being pulled toward Isagi—trapped in a hug she hadn't asked for… nor expected.
"What are you doing?" Makima asked, with the same calm tone as always, though inside she hesitated at such a sudden action.
"You're right… I'm alone," Isagi replied in a low voice. "Maybe this seems awkward to you, but I'll be honest… I've never received a hug."
His words carried no mockery or sarcasm. Only truth. This time it wasn't a joke—Isagi couldn't remember, in this life or his other one, when the last time was that he had received this kind of contact.
Isagi noticed how soft Makima felt. Her scent was clean, natural, without perfume. She didn't need any.
Makima remained silent.
Inside her, something she had buried long ago—her own hidden desire—stirred for a brief instant, awakened by that confession so simple and so human.
"So… you've never been hugged before?" she murmured at last. "And what are you trying to get from this hug, Isagi?" Makima asked softly, not trying to pull away… but not returning the gesture either.
"I don't know…" he admitted after a few seconds. "Maybe I just want to remember what it feels like."
A small, peaceful smile appeared on his face. He wouldn't lie: hugging Makima felt good. Too good, even.
"I never bothered trying to meet other people, you know?" he continued, his voice more relaxed. "But because of that second devil that showed up after the Bat Devil… I realized something. Maybe I should start enjoying life a little more."
Makima listened in silence. She didn't return the hug. She didn't reject it. She simply stayed there, still, allowing Isagi to hold her.
At the same time, she noticed something too: Isagi lacked a clear motivation. There was no ambition, no grand dreams, no heroic desire. Only work.
"Chamba," as he called it.
"So…" Isagi hesitated for a second. "Why not try to get along with you? Maybe… be friends."
Makima raised an eyebrow.
"Friends?" she repeated, as if the word felt strange, almost foreign. "And why exactly do you want to start with me?"
"What?" Isagi shrugged. "It's my own choice. I can't spend all my time grinding at work, even if I always go full tryhard. I think I need to start socializing… or I'm gonna end up like a hermit."
With that, he gently stepped back and let her go. He didn't want to drag out that kind of contact with her for too long.
Makima stared straight into his eyes. This wasn't what she had expected.
She had anticipated rebellion, defiance, maybe even arrogance after confessing she couldn't control him. But Isagi trying to approach her like this… proposing something as human as friendship…
That wasn't in her calculations.
And for the first time in a long while, Makima didn't know exactly what to think.
"So you want to get along with me?" Makima asked, thoughtful. "Even when you know I'm a devil and, technically, your boss?"
"I tolerate Power," Isagi replied, hands in his pockets and a crooked smile on his face. "I'm pretty sure I can tolerate you too."
It wasn't arrogance. It was simple logic. If he could survive the constant chaos that was Power, he could handle anyone.
A soft sigh escaped Makima's lips as she walked back behind her desk. She calmly sat down in her office chair and rested her elbows on the wooden surface, interlacing her fingers. Her gaze never left Isagi for a single moment.
"Alright," she finally said. "You can try, if that's what you want."
Makima wanted to observe him. To see how far he would go in his attempt to become her "friend." To know whether he meant it… or if he had simply taken advantage of the situation to get close and touch her.
"You may leave, Isagi," she continued. "I think you should go check on Denji and Power. You could also try getting along with them."
Isagi made an obvious grimace at that suggestion, but still nodded. He turned around and started walking toward the door.
"I'm not promising anything," he said over his shoulder. "Those two drive me insane."
He opened the door and left. The soft click of it closing echoed through the office.
Makima turned toward the window, watching the sunset paint the city in orange tones. A faint smile formed on her lips. That day had been revealing. And possibly beneficial.
.
.
.
.
The next morning…
The air was still cool, and the city was only just waking up. Some shops were raising their metal shutters, and the distant sound of traffic was beginning to fill the streets.
"So where are we going today to kill some filthy devils?" Power asked excitedly.
She walked ahead of Denji and Isagi and suddenly turned around with a wide grin, showing off her sharp teeth. Her hands were behind her head, as if she were on a casual stroll and not heading toward a possible massacre.
Even after having been swallowed by the Bat Devil the day before… she seemed to have completely forgotten about it. Today she already wanted to spill blood again.
Isagi didn't respond.
He walked with his hands in his pockets, focused on something much more interesting. He could feel the constant flow of blood running through his veins. Ever since he gained blood manipulation by completing the mission of saving Power's cat, he hadn't stopped thinking about new applications.
Not just the classic techniques.
What else could he do?
With his incredible regeneration—making him nearly immortal—anemia wasn't an issue. He recovered blood almost as fast as he used it.
And besides… his Marechi blood… could it be considered a biological weapon against devils? After all, its scent drove them crazy. Maybe he could use that strategically. Provoke, attract… destabilize.
"Don't ignore me, you bastards! I'm talking to both of you!" Power shouted, clearly annoyed that neither of them reacted. She was one second away from punching them both at the same time.
"You don't need to yell! I can hear you perfectly fine, Power!" Isagi snapped back, turning toward her with irritation.
Power clicked her tongue.
Denji, on the other hand…
Denji looked like a lost soul. He walked with his shoulders slightly slumped and an empty expression, as if he had lost the meaning of life somewhere between yesterday and today.
His eyes weren't focused on anything in particular. Not devils. Not Power. Not the city. He was just… existing on autopilot.
And coming from Denji, that was concerning.
"What's wrong with Denji?" Isagi asked, pointing at him with his thumb while looking at Power for a logical explanation.
The response was just a shrug from the Blood Fiend.
"I don't know, human. The bastard's been like that since morning. I think someone stole his brain."
"Since when did Denji even have a brain?" Isagi muttered before sighing. "But seriously… Denji."
He waved his hand in front of Denji's face.
Denji didn't react. He kept walking like a zombie, his gaze lost somewhere in a nonexistent point on the horizon.
They stopped at a traffic light. The red glow painted the street, while the constant sound of cars passing by was the only thing Denji seemed to register.
His eyes were open, but they weren't looking at anything. His mind was somewhere else… trapped in an emotional void that was hard to ignore.
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End of the chapter.