The men stopped laughing the moment Makima mentioned eyes.
"Eyes?" the gang leader asked, puzzled.
He carefully picked up the brown handbag Makima had placed on the table.
Rip.
He tore it open.
Suddenly hundreds of eyeballs, all bloodshot and horrifyingly real, spilled into view.
"Ahhhhh, what the hell—!!!" the leader screamed, cold sweat pouring down his face.
It had to be fake. It absolutely had to be.
He forced himself to calm down, wiped his brow, and stammered guiltily.
"You crazy woman, you've got guts… this is a prop, right? Even if these were real, they must be from death row prisoners or something, just to scare us, right?"
He couldn't believe Makima knew all their names.
She must be bluffing.
She was a government Devil Hunter, after all. No way she'd do some sick shit like this.
Makima lifted dozing Pochita back into her arms and spoke with icy calm.
"Takashi Seita, Nagata Keishin, Kuroki Yugo, Nakata Sasuke, Chiba Yasuhito…"
As she read each name, a man behind her turned paler than shit.
"These are your identity records," she continued, "and I also know exactly who each eye belonged to. Do you want to hear that too?"
That was the moment everything clicked.
This wasn't a prop.
It wasn't a trick.
Those eyeballs were real and belonged to their family members.
Before anyone could even react—
Kuroki Yugo, standing right behind Makima, went suddenly still.
Makima barely glanced at him.
Then his pupils widened, blood gushed uncontrollably from every orifice, and with a sickening slump, he dropped dead.
The thugs who had been shouting just moments ago froze, silence crushing them like a slab.
Makima stroked Pochita's fur as though this were a normal afternoon.
"Don't worry too much. Public Safety has Devil Hunters who can restore eyes, if you cooperate."
The gang leader's voice quavered as he snatched a pen and began scribbling furiously on the paper Makima had placed before him, terrified she'd kill him with a look.
Makima offered a faint smile.
The matter was settled.
She put the papers away, set Pochita on her shoulder, and stood up.
She looked at the gang leader, Takashi Seita, with cold detachment.
"What you call a necessary evil is just an excuse to do cruel shit and make profit. That isn't a necessity for society. A true necessary evil is defined and controlled by the state."
Makima left the villa and walked along the beach with Pochita quietly perched on her shoulder.
She tilted her head slightly as though thinking about dinner.
"Pochita, what do you feel like having tonight?"
"Woof."
Pochita wagged its tail, meaning anything was fine.
Makima rubbed her chin thoughtfully, sounding almost like a cheerful young woman.
"There's still a bunch of ginger left in the fridge from when it was on sale. Tonight, let's have some sake and cook some ginger‑fried meat."
"Woof woof."
"Oh? Pochita says Cael's cooking is good? Well, but he's probably too busy tonight."
---
Tokyo — Outside the Gang Building
Kishibe stood there with a sake flask in hand and a walkie‑talkie clipped to his pocket.
Cael, now wearing a Public Safety uniform, was chatting casually with the old man. It was almost like they were hanging out on a street corner instead of preparing for a full‑on assault.
Screech.
A convoy of police cars and armored vehicles pulled up.
Capable men in riot gear poured out.
Two faded uniforms detached from the line and saluted Kishibe.
"I'm Shiina from the Kanagawa Prefecture Police."
"I'm Furuno from Tokyo Extermination Division 2."
Kishibe set his sake flask down and said in his usual deadpan delivery, "I'm the temporary captain of Special Division 4. I'll be laying out the battle plan."
"Yes sir!" the two responded crisply.
Kishibe took a sip of sake and spoke without much emotion.
"Extermination Division 2 and the police are to block the first floor and the underground exits. Suppressing the terrorists inside the building is Special Division 4's job."
"Understood!"
Shiina and Furuno looked damn happy to have that job off their plates.
Suppressing terrorists was where people actually died.
"By the way," Kishibe said, "there's something else you need to know."
"Yes, Mr. Kishibe?"
He took another sip, relaxed.
"You're not just facing terrorists inside that building. You also need to watch out for Special Division 4. A bunch of non‑human characters in there don't get the memo about staying sanitary."
"There's the Blood Fiend with horns on her head," Kishibe listed flatly, "the Shark Fiend with a shark head on his forehead, the Violence Fiend wears a plague‑doctor style gas mask, the Angel Devil has wings and a halo, and the Spider Devil literally has a zipper down her face and eight legs."
"You can spot them at a glance," he added with that calm voice of his. "If any of them disobey orders, treat them as hostile and eliminate them on sight."
"Yes sir!"
Kishibe nodded.
"Understood? Then move out."
The police and Extermination Division 2 troops headed off toward their positions.
Kishibe put his sake flask away and glanced at Cael.
"I never expected you'd be here too."
Cael grinned slightly, "Well, I am part of Special Division 4, so I've gotta play my part."
"Oh?" Kishibe's eyes were half‑closed.
"You told Aki you were too busy running your Funeral Home to be part of the encirclement. But as soon as you heard zombies were inside, you were in without hesitation."
The Zombie Devil was already dead and in hell because Cael had taken it out earlier.
Still, before dying the old Zombie had converted tons of people into zombies—his so‑called legacy for his grandson, Katana Man. This gang used that zombie bite infection to turn huge numbers of people into mindless walking corpses.
Cael cleared his throat awkwardly to mask his embarrassment.
He quickly lied with the most righteous grin he could muster.
"Zombies are the worst crap ever. Mr. Kishibe, you know my job is an Undertaker. Zombies desecrate corpses like nothing else."
But the real reason he showed up?
Honestly…
He just wanted to farm attribute points.
Weak, numerous enemies like zombies were exactly what you couldn't find anywhere else.
But Cael definitely couldn't say that out loud.
Kishibe let out a sound that might've been a chuckle.
"I think you just like money. Think about it, if everyone turned into zombies, your Funeral Home might as well close up shop."
Cael blinked.
Huh?
That did make sense from that angle.
Cael immediately agreed with a respectful nod.
"Mr. Kishibe, that's sharp insight. You're absolutely right."
"Heh. I'll take that as a compliment." Kishibe pulled out his walkie‑talkie.
"There's nothing wrong with liking money. Everyone's got their weak spot. I like alcohol and beautiful women aside from money."
"Pretty normal. Isn't that what men like?"
Static crackled through the walkie‑talkie.
The signal was messing up.
Kishibe pulled out an unopened bottle of white wine.
"Want some before we start?"
"No thanks," Cael said politely, "I don't do well with alcohol."
Kishibe shrugged and downed half the bottle.
Kishibe then turned serious again.
"That strength of yours, can you control it freely?"
"Absolutely," Cael replied.
"That's good," Kishibe said simply.
"Fiends and devils usually have awful personalities. If they go off rogue, don't hold back. It's fine if you cripple or kill them. They don't have human rights."
Cael grinned and added, "Extra work means extra pay though."
"That's the spirit."
Beep.
The walkie‑talkie connected.
Kishibe tossed the empty bottle aside and stated the order in his deadpan way.
"Special Division 4, both human and non‑human members, begin the operation. Everyone rush into the building head‑on, our plan is simple: there is no plan."
____
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