The sunset over Kamigoe City was painted in a deep, peaceful orange.
Takamura Ken or Okarun and Ayase Momo were walking side-by-side, the distance between them just a few inches shorter than it had been a week ago.
"I'm telling you, Okarun, if you keep stuttering like that, people are going to think you're suspicious!"
Momo teased, leaning in with a smirk.
"I-I can't help it! Dealing with Granny Turbo was... stressful!"
Okarun defended himself, waving his hands frantically.
The air between them suddenly shimmered.
It wasn't the usual chill of a spirit or the static of an alien abduction.
It was a violent, structural tear in reality.
One second they were on a familiar sidewalk; the next, the ground beneath their feet felt different—harder, grittier, and smelling of exhaust and cheap cigarettes.
"Wh-What the...?"
Momo immediately took a defensive stance, her psychic aura flickering around her fingers.
"Another Serpo trap?"
Okarun didn't answer. He was staring down the street, his eyes wide behind his glasses.
His "nerd senses" weren't just tingling; they were screaming in a language only a hardcore otaku could understand.
"Ayase-san... look,"
Okarun whispered.
Walking across the street was a scruffy boy with messy blonde hair, wearing a worn-out shirt and carrying a small, orange, chainsaw-dog-creature with a pull-cord tail.
"Is that... a dog with a blade?"
Momo blinked.
"Wait, Okarun, you're shaking. Is it a high-level Yokai?"
"No,"
Okarun gasped, his heart hammering.
"That's Denji. And that's Pochita. Ayase-san, this is impossible... we're inside the Chainsaw Man manga!"
Momo looked at him blankly.
"Chain-what? Is that an urban legend? Is it like the Reiko Kashima thing?"
"It's much worse!"
Okarun adjusted his glasses, his analytical mind racing.
"This world is fueled by the fear of concepts. The more people fear something, the stronger it becomes. And right now..."
Okarun stopped. He felt a strange, humming warmth in his lower abdomen.
He gasped, his face turning bright red, then pale, then red again. He reached down tentatively.
"They're... they're back,"
He whispered, tears of joy welling in his eyes.
"My golden balls... they're back!"
As soon as he felt whole again, a surge of power unlike anything he'd felt before erupted from his core.
Usually, he had to borrow Granny Turbo's power, struggling to keep his personality intact.
But here, the "fear" of the Turbo Granny—the legend of the fast, terrifying old woman—blended with his own spirit.
"Ayase-san, get back!"
Okarun's hair turned bone-white and lengthened.
His face didn't just become melancholic; it became a mask of sleek, aerodynamic terror.
Stitched patterns appeared across his skin like a racing suit.
He didn't just feel like a possessed human; he felt like a Devil.
"Okarun? You look... different,"
Momo noted, her hand glowing with her psychokinesis.
"More solid."
"I don't just have her speed anymore,"
Okarun said, his voice a low, vibrating hum.
"In this world, I am the Turbo Devil. I can control it, Ayase-san. I can protect you!"
Momo watched as Okarun vanished in a blur of blue light, the sound of a sonic boom echoing through the alleyway.
He reappeared ten feet away, perfectly still.
"I don't know what a 'Chainsaw' or a 'Devil' is in this context,"
Momo said, a determined grin crossing her face as she summoned her giant psychic hands.
"But if you say you've got this, I'm trusting you. Just don't lose those balls again, okay?"
Okarun nodded, his eyes fixed on the distant silhouette of the Public Safety buildings.
"Let's find a way home. But first... we might have to deal with some very dangerous people."