Yusaku Kudo's manner of death was, admittedly, darkly hilarious. But within Public Safety he'd been a minor player at best, so the whole affair never amounted to more than break-room gossip, the kind of story someone would remember and trot out for a colleague when conversation ran dry.
Still, his death wasn't without its silver linings.
At the very least, the consulting detective position was now vacant, and his son could slot right in.
Shinichi's body had mostly recovered aside from the missing legs. No more endless hospital visits, no more mountains of medication.
The financial burden on Yukiko had lightened considerably.
By all logic, this should have been the point where she cut ties with Makoto Nishikado.
Instead, the opposite happened.
Their secret meetings grew more frequent than ever.
More than once, Makoto found himself wishing the woman would exercise a little restraint before Makima noticed something was off.
Shortly after Yusaku's line-of-duty death, another development arrived at Public Safety: a new recruit named Aki Hayakawa.
Ishigami did a double-take when he saw him, needing a good few seconds before the memory clicked. This was the kid they'd run into ten years ago, right when they'd first crossed over.
He'd grown up.
Time flies, Ishigami thought with a sigh.
"It's been a while, Mr. Nishikado. And you are..."
"Yu Ishigami."
Aki nodded. "And Mr. Ishigami. It's been a while."
He'd seen plenty of news coverage about both Makoto and Ishigami over the years. But they weren't the reason he'd joined Public Safety. That decision had been made long ago.
Joining Public Safety meant a better chance of encountering the Gun Devil. Of avenging his parents.
Makoto noticed Aki wasn't carrying the nail-studded sword he'd had at the start of the original story. "Who's your contracted devil?"
Even among colleagues in Public Safety, devil hunters only revealed their contracts to a trusted few, whether they were freelance or government-employed.
Aki and Makoto weren't exactly close, but the memory of that warning ten years ago, the one that had saved his brother's life, still carried weight. He answered without hesitation. "The Fox Devil."
"Oh, the Fox Devil," Ishigami said, scratching his head. "Makes sense. She's pretty friendly toward humans, so a lot of people in Public Safety have contracts with her. She only lets good-looking guys use her head, though. Everyone else gets stuck with the hands and feet. She asked me if I wanted a contract too, but I turned her down."
Makoto suppressed a laugh. Ishigami had filled out nicely over the past decade, and that hairstyle covering one eye gave him a budget-Sasuke look. No wonder the Fox Devil had taken an interest.
"The Fox Devil's more than enough. Don't bother contracting with anyone else."
He clapped Aki on the shoulder and left with Ishigami in tow.
In the manga, Aki had also contracted with the Curse Devil early on. But that ability's cost-to-benefit ratio was, frankly, abysmal. Enormous price tag for a painfully underwhelming effect.
Aki watched the two of them leave. "Any missions?"
"Going to catch some Pokémon," Makoto called back.
"...?"
Then Aki noticed a small poodle(Libido devil's actual form) trotting at Makoto's heels. As they passed through the front entrance, it lifted a leg and pissed on the doorframe.
What an ill-mannered dog.
"Humphrey, all your degenerate buddies here in Japan?"
Makoto addressed the Libido Devil padding along beside him.
Fate had a sense of humor, he had to admit. Because of Makima, Pochita spent most of its time dormant inside his body now, unable to trot alongside him on walks. And not long after, a replacement mutt had appeared.
"Humphrey," incidentally, was the nickname Makoto had given the Libido Devil.
"Of course, Boss! Everyone knows Japan's the horndog capital of the world. No other country comes close!" The Libido Devil flashed its unhinged grin.
Since officially joining up, the creature had been recommending its circle of degenerates to Makoto.
The Dolphin Devil. The Rabbit Devil. The Gorilla Devil.
Good lord.
Every single one was an animal that mated not merely for reproduction, but for pleasure. A veritable fellowship of the depraved.
With the Libido Devil brokering introductions, Makoto tracked down the trio in short order. He barely had to throw a punch. The moment he revealed himself as the Chainsaw Devil, all three fell in line.
He christened the quartet on the spot: the Fab Four.
While Makoto was collecting his new Pokémon, Aki and Himeno were paired together as partners, just as in the original story.
She was on her sixth partner now.
Makoto realized it had been a while since he'd checked on Denji. No idea how the kid was doing.
He picked up a boxed lunch from a convenience store and made the familiar trek out to that ramshackle shed on Tokyo's outskirts.
A white sedan was parked beside it.
He walked closer and found Denji standing next to the car, facing a crude, hastily built grave.
Inside the sedan, an old man with black-rimmed glasses and a white beard glanced at Denji through the window. "He killed himself before paying off this month's interest. Listen up, brat. I don't care if you have to beg or sell your body. Have seven hundred thousand ready for me by tomorrow, or I'll chop you up and sell the parts."
"If a father's debt isn't part of his estate and his son didn't inherit it, the son has no legal obligation to pay. Ever heard of the law?"
Makoto strolled up, smiling, just as the old man was reaching for the gas pedal.
"Savior Bro!"
Denji had been staring at his father's makeshift headstone with a complicated expression, but his face lit up the moment he heard that voice.
"You!"
The old man flinched at the sight of Makoto. The devil hunter who'd torn through the US not long ago. The rising star of Public Safety.
What was he doing here?
As a yakuza boss, the last person he wanted to encounter was Makoto Nishikado. And the almost-playful look on the man's face set off every survival instinct he had.
He floored the gas and wrenched the steering wheel.
Makoto reached toward his collar and pulled.
His right forearm split open. A chainsaw blade extending into a massive blade over three thousand meters long.
One swing.
The sedan, already ten meters away, was cleaved in two. Denji could see the old man's bisected corpse clearly through the wreckage.
The halved car exploded on impact, taking the remains with it.
"B-big bro, what are you doing here?"
The old man's death didn't faze Denji in the slightest. He'd been living in hell his entire life.
"I've told you a hundred times, stop calling me that."
Makoto held out the boxed lunch.
"Thank you!"
Denji bowed his head. He'd grown accustomed to these care packages over the years, but he never took them for granted. Every single time, he offered sincere thanks.
Rain began to fall.
They ducked into the shack. Denji cracked open the lunch box and dug in with his usual fervor.
"That grave out there," Makoto said, feigning ignorance. "Your old man?"
Denji's chopsticks paused. A few seconds passed. "Yeah. He killed himself."
Makoto studied the boy.
He remembered the original story revealing that Denji's father hadn't actually committed suicide. Denji had killed him during a mental breakdown brought on by years of abuse, then his brain's self-defense mechanisms had buried the memory entirely.
"Um, I'm, I'm done. Savior Bro..."
Denji held up the lunch box, not a single grain of rice remaining, and glanced at Makoto's silence with visible awkwardness. This was the first time Makoto had ever come inside his home. Denji had no idea how to play host.
Makoto didn't linger. He stood, placed a bank card on the table.
"This should be enough to last you until you're an adult."
Under Denji's stunned gaze, he continued. "Go enroll in a school. Use my name. Study hard, and if you're lucky, maybe you'll even meet a girl who likes you. Find out what that's like."
He turned to leave.
"Savior Bro, I don't want your money! I want to..."
Denji grabbed the card and scrambled after him.
"Don't say you want to work for me, kid."
Makoto cut him off without a shred of mercy.
"Remember one thing. For the rest of your life, never get involved with devils. Study hard, at least finish high school, then get a job and live a quiet life. We probably won't see each other again. What kind of road you walk from here is up to you."
Denji stood frozen, watching the silhouette recede into the rain.
On the other side of town, Makoto's phone buzzed. Ishigami.
"The investigation's done. The yakuza outfit's called the Honda-gumi. Second-rate gang operating in Tokyo's outskirts. Their main racket is exploiting kids whose parents were killed by devils, street orphans they can squeeze dry."
"Can you handle it?"
Ishigami's voice sparked with enthusiasm. "Absolutely."
That night, a knock at the door.
Makoto pressed a kiss to Yukiko's satisfied face and got up to answer.
He opened the door to find Ishigami drenched in blood from head to toe.
"It's... it's done."
The words left his mouth and his legs buckled.
Makoto caught him before he hit the floor.
"Who is it?" Yukiko emerged from the bedroom, wrapped in a robe.
One look at Ishigami and she recoiled.
Makoto waved her back inside. Ishigami, half-dead as he was, noticed Yukiko but said nothing.
In his mind, a man as great as his senior deserved to leave behind as many heirs as possible.
Makoto propped him on the couch and retrieved the first-aid kit. "Why'd you come here instead of the hospital?"
"There's... something big..."
Ishigami's trembling hand dug into his coat and produced something that was still beating.
"That's the Samurai Sword's heart," Pochita's voice echoed in Makoto's mind.
Ishigami panted through his explanation. "The Honda-gumi had been getting squeezed by Public Safety for years. They were desperate for devil power to level up their operation. Spent a fortune getting their hands on this thing. They were planning to implant it in the old boss's grandson, but those idiots... we got to it before they could even start the procedure."
By the end, he couldn't help but laugh.
"The Samurai Sword, huh. Not bad." Makoto took the heart, turning it over in his hand. "You want this power for yourself?"
In this world, those with supernatural abilities fell into three broad categories.
First were pure devils, like the Fab Four currently serving under him.
Second were contractors like Aki and Himeno, people who sacrificed something in exchange for a portion of a devil's power.
Third were hybrids: humans who'd had a devil's heart transplanted into their body, creating a symbiotic relationship with the devil.
Hybrids were the best deal by far. With only the heart remaining, the devil itself had no consciousness, giving the host full control over both their body and their abilities. They also gained a devil's regeneration, able to revive simply by consuming blood.
The catch was that devil hearts were nearly impossible to obtain. Most devils would rather self-destruct than let their hearts fall into human hands.
Hybrids, as a result, were exceptionally rare.
Ishigami was tempted. But after a moment's thought, he declined.
A devil's heart could only be implanted once. If he locked himself into the Katana Man's abilities, that was it.
And if he was going to choose, he wanted something stronger.
Something like the Gun Devil's heart.
Makoto didn't push the issue. He stored the Katana Man's heart in his inventory, figuring he'd find the right candidate for it down the line.
The Honda-gumi, the gang that had enslaved Denji in the original story, was no more.
A few days later, a middle school called Fourth East Junior High in Tokyo welcomed a transfer student.
Under the watchful eyes of the teacher and an entire classroom of students, the boy picked up a piece of chalk with nervous hands and wrote the only four characters he'd managed to learn all week:
Nishikado Denji.
Three years slipped by in a blink. The calendar turned to 1997.
Tokyo, and Japan as a whole, had earned a global reputation as the safest country on earth.
The reason was self-evident.
"Chainsaw! I'll kill you! CHAINSAW!"
A devil tore down the street, nothing but a colossal face, a maw bristling with fangs, its surface crawling with horrific zombie-like features. It charged straight at Makoto, shrieking with rage.
The Eternity Devil. It had consumed a fragment of the Gun Devil, and rather than wait to be hunted down and devoured, it had chosen to strike first.
Makoto regarded it with the bored contempt reserved for idiots. If you're afraid, hide. Don't come sprinting at the thing you're afraid of.
"Humphrey."
One word.
The mangy poodle at his feet swelled to monstrous proportions, snapping upright onto two legs and spreading its arms wide, absorbing the Eternity Devil's charge like a living shield.
In the same instant, three more devils materialized from every direction, each one rippling with the same grotesque musculature as the Libido Devil, oozing testosterone from every pore, but topped with the heads of a dolphin, a gorilla, and a rabbit. They seized the Eternity Devil in a four-way bear hug.
"You... you're all devils too! And you chose to be the Chainsaw's lapdogs?!"
"Hee hee hee, I've always been a dog." The Libido Devil punctuated this with a hip thrust so vile that several fleeing bystanders doubled over and retched.
"Humphrey, wrap it up."
Makoto couldn't even watch.
The Libido Devil cackled. "Boys, all together now! SQUEEZE!"
The four musclebound devils clamped down from every side, crushing the Eternity Devil between their bodies.
"Let's share one big group hug!"
Their grins were feral.
The Eternity Devil felt the walls closing in and screamed. "Let go! Let go of me! No! I don't want a group hug!"
It didn't matter what it wanted.
Under the Fab Four's combined pressure, the Eternity Devil popped like an overripe zit, spraying gore across the street.
Makoto clicked his tongue. Their fighting style was as revolting as ever.
"Wow! So strong! Thank you, mister!"
While every other civilian fled in the opposite direction, a slender young woman appeared in front of Makoto.
She clasped her hands behind her back and leaned forward, peering up at him with a playful smile.
"The strongest devil hunter really doesn't need to lift a finger against the small fry, huh?"
Makoto looked her over. Shoulder-length purple hair. Vivid green eyes. Pale, luminous skin. Every detail confirmed what was obvious at first glance: she was gorgeous.
Her smile was sweet and faintly blushing, her voice lilting at the edges, projecting the perfect image of the approachable girl next door.