The two figures, of course, were Sekai Saionji and Makoto Itou.
Nine years ago, when the players split up, most had taken Nishikado's advice and left Japan to start fresh in other countries. Only two teams stayed behind: the Kudo family, and the wretched pairing of Itou and Sekai.
Originally, Sekai had no intention of teaming up with him. Not after what he'd become.
Their history in the real world counted for nothing now. Makoto Itou had, beyond any shadow of doubt, deteriorated into a complete and utter waste of a human being.
Setting everything else aside, the man had lost his manhood. Literally.
But the alternatives were worse. Sekai didn't know any of the other chosen players well enough to ask, and none of them wanted her tagging along. So she'd swallowed her pride and stuck with Itou.
A decision she regretted almost immediately.
Within weeks of arriving in this world's Tokyo, she discovered he was even more useless than she'd imagined.
Not only had he lost his manhood, he refused to even look for work. For nine straight years, Sekai scraped by on part-time jobs, keeping them both fed.
Credit where it was due: the woman had the patience of a saint. Nine years of carrying dead weight without snapping.
But it made a certain kind of sense. Dropped into an alien world crawling with devils, no family, no friends, nobody willing to lend a hand... if she didn't even have someone to share the silence with, she'd have lost her mind. That was the only reason she'd tolerated Itou for as long as she had.
Tolerance, though, has its limits.
Ever since they'd moved into this basement apartment, Itou had barely set foot outside. He survived entirely on her income, contributing nothing. If he'd at least offered some emotional comfort, some warmth, she might have held on a little longer.
But as the months bled into years, all he did was huddle in that dank room watching TV and playing video games, a husk of a person.
She'd come home exhausted from work, and his responses never varied: mm, oh, ah. "Did you eat?" "Let's go to bed." Words with all the warmth of a dial tone.
He'd started treating her sacrifices as his birthright.
Sekai finally hit her breaking point. Living like this was worse than being alone.
The problem was money. She was broke too. A new apartment, a fresh start... all of it cost cash she didn't have.
So what could she do?
That's when a coworker mentioned something. He'd stumbled into a bar called The Blue Lobster by accident, he said, face pale as he recounted it. The whole place was packed with gay men. They'd nearly graped him, and one had even offered to buy his socks.
A lightbulb flickered on behind Sekai's eyes.
Makoto, I've supported you for ten years. A clean break, that's all I'm asking. One last repayment before we go our separate ways. That's not unreasonable, is it?
Itou read the dead-serious look in her eyes, then noticed the drooling muscle-bound men flanking her. Panic seized him instantly.
"I was wrong! I was wrong!" he shrieked. "Sekai, I'll find a job, I swear! Please, don't do this! Make them leave!"
His voice came out shrill and grating, like a strangled duck. The ice on Sekai's face didn't thaw by a single degree.
"I've heard that line at least a hundred times. I've already made the arrangement. One session, that's all. Makoto, I fed you for ten years. All I'm asking is one last favor before we part ways. That's fair, isn't it?"
"Hey, miss, can we get started?"
One of the men glanced sideways at her.
Sekai pulled out her wallet, counted the cash she'd just received, confirmed the amount was correct, nodded, and walked out.
"No... no! Sekai!"
The eunuch scrambled off his chair to chase her, but years of inactivity had turned his legs to jelly. They buckled the instant he stood, and he crashed hard to the floor.
When he lifted his head, several leering faces filled his vision.
"No... no! Stay... stay away from me!"
The man in front licked his lips. "Relax, sweetheart. We're professionals."
A minute later, a bloodcurdling scream tore through the basement walls.
Sekai's stride faltered. She stood frozen for a few seconds, then kept walking.
That night.
Makoto Itou stared at the ring pierced through his chest and wept, fists hammering the floor in blind, howling grief. He didn't stop even after his knuckles split open and smeared the concrete red.
A breaking news segment cut into the broadcast on the TV.
"In recent developments, civilian devil hunters Yu Ishigami and Aki Hayakawa have been credited with a string of devil kills. Sources within Public Safety indicate both hunters may soon be formally recruited into the organization."
The face on screen belonged to the man who had castrated him a second time. Rage detonated behind Itou's ribs. He snatched up the remote and hurled it at the television.
The screen shattered on impact.
"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!"
How was this fair? The people who'd ruined his life got to bask in glory, while he, the victim, rotted in a damp basement like something half-alive and half-ghost?
Memories of his old life surfaced unbidden. Back at Shuchiin Academy, surrounded by heirs and heiresses, he'd never been the most impressive student.
But decent grades and a handsome face had drawn their share of attention from girls... Otome Kato, for instance. He'd known full well how she felt about him. But back then, his heart had been set on Kotonoha Katsura, and she'd agreed to be with him.
Everything had been falling into place. He'd been on the cusp of a perfect life.
Then Makoto Nishikado appeared and tore it all apart.
And as if that weren't enough, Nishikado's lackey, Ishigami, had stripped him of his manhood entirely.
"Damn it! Damn it! DAMN IT!"
Itou screamed until his throat bled raw, clawing at his own face with his nails, beating his fists against his body.
But the worst part, the thing that broke him more than anything, was when a stray punch landed between his legs and he felt nothing. Not even a flicker of pain.
His mind drifted back nine years, to the day the players went their separate ways. Nishikado, surrounded by his entourage of beautiful women, living large and thriving. The contrast between their lives couldn't have been starker.
He cried harder.
His enemies lived free and untouchable, while he didn't even have... he didn't even have it anymore.
Perhaps it was the sheer, concentrated venom of his hatred that triggered what came next. A strange voice, eerie and amused, slithered into his mind.
"My, my... what powerful resentment. Would you like to make a contract with me?"
"Wh-who's there?!"
Itou whipped his head around, eyes wild with terror. Nothing but the dark, crumbling room stared back.
A sinister chuckle echoed again. "I'm a devil. So... how about that contract?"
"A contract?"
The word hit him like ice water. He remembered what Nishikado had warned the players about when they'd first arrived in this world.
Devil contracts demanded a steep price. Unless you were truly desperate, you should never engage with one, because what they asked for would almost always exceed what you could afford to lose.
Silence stretched through the basement.
Then Itou lifted his head, his voice scraped raw. "What do you want from me?"
"Your body. Let me share it. I'll take the wheel now and then, move around in it when I need to. Don't worry, we'd both own it."
"Why... why my body?" Confusion cracked through his despair.
Truthfully, the price didn't matter. Not anymore. He had nothing left worth taking.
The devil's tone turned weary. "Can't be helped. Word going around is that Chainsaw, that bastard, is back from the dead. If he catches my scent, I'm finished. Hiding inside a human body is... safer."