Half an hour earlier. Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
Superintendent Hakuba was meeting with his son, Saguru.
Saguru spent most of his time studying abroad in England, which left precious few opportunities for the two of them to sit in the same room. He'd still seen what happened the last time Makoto Nishikado returned to the real world after obtaining the Eternal Mangekyou Sharingan and went on his rampage.
Tokyo had been the main battleground, but the livestream footage of Makoto annihilating two American destroyers with his perfected Susanoo had gone viral worldwide. Even an ocean away, there was no missing it.
Saguru had always been the type to flip-flop on things, but this time he couldn't sit still. He'd flown back from England to strategize with his father.
"Go stop him?"
The Superintendent glanced at his son from behind the desk, then slid a tablet across to him. The screen showed Yu Ishigami, Reze, and others tearing through American military bases on a live feed.
The women's squad led by Megumi Kato and Utaha Kasumigaoka was one thing, but Ishigami and Reze? Those two were delivering absolute carnage.
"Makoto Nishikado hasn't even lifted a finger yet," the Superintendent reminded him.
Plenty of people inside the department still harbored rebellious thoughts, even after witnessing Makoto's godlike display of power. Japan had a long tradition of the lower ranks overthrowing their superiors, after all.
After Inspector Megure's death, his former subordinates, especially the faction led by Miwako Sato, seethed with hatred for Makoto. Some had even floated assassination attempts.
But after watching Ishigami and Reze's performance on screen...
Even Sato's people had to abandon those fantasies. If his underlings were this strong, what the hell was Makoto Nishikado himself capable of?
Saguru frowned at the two figures on screen who'd transformed their bodies into living weapons. "These two weren't around last time Makoto caused a scene."
True enough. When Makoto first publicly unleashed his powers months ago, he'd had plenty of superpowered girls fighting alongside him. But "alongside" was generous. Utaha, the Akizuki sisters, and the rest had mostly been mopping up scraps behind him while Makoto handled 99.9% of the damage output.
This time was different. Not only had Megumi, Utaha, and the others grown incomparably stronger, but Ishigami and Reze were genuinely carrying.
"I had people look into them," the Superintendent said. "The boy is Yu Ishigami, youngest son of the Ishigami Toy Group's president. Former third-year at Shuchiin Academy's middle school division. History of being falsely accused and ostracized before he threw in his lot with Makoto Nishikado and awakened some kind of ability. The girl has no records whatsoever. Suspected unregistered."
He passed Ishigami's file to his son.
Saguru skimmed through it, then looked back at the screen where Ishigami, transformed into a Gun Fiend, was rampaging through the American base like a demon fresh from Hell.
According to the file, Ishigami had been painfully introverted until a few months ago. A wallflower. The complete opposite of the maniac on screen, cackling while he mowed down American soldiers.
But more than the personality shift, what interested Saguru was the source of the power itself. Latch onto Makoto Nishikado and receive abilities? Was it really that simple?
His father read the thought on his face and pointed to another corner of the livestream. "Look at that one."
Saguru turned. In a separate feed, a girl in a school uniform had undergone a similar transformation to Ishigami and Reze. Where the other two had become a gun and a bomb respectively, her head had become a blade.
"Kotonoha Katsura. Eldest daughter of the Katsura Foods Group," the Superintendent continued. "Personality profile matches Ishigami's: timid, withdrawn. She acquired her abilities recently. According to my investigation, Makoto Nishikado took her to Totsuki Culinary Academy's infirmary. Alone. When she came out, she had powers."
The color shifted in Saguru's face.
"The infirmary?!"
Dad, are you saying... this Kotonoha Katsura was physically modified?
The world had been desperate to crack the secret behind Makoto Nishikado's ability to awaken powers in others. Various governments had captured mutated individuals, the crab-monster types that had started appearing globally. Under interrogation, those subjects reported no understanding of the process: one moment they were normal, the next their bodies had changed.
That had led most intelligence agencies to assume Makoto's method of granting abilities was some kind of natural awakening.
But Kotonoha's story sounded far more like human modification.
She'd had nothing before. Makoto takes her to an infirmary. She walks out with powers. How was anyone supposed to not read into that?
"Dad, so..."
"I think we need to first determine how many people around Makoto Nishikado have actually received abilities," the Superintendent replied. "If he truly has a method for granting superpowers, I believe we can leverage that."
Saguru furrowed his brow, but before he could respond, the office door swung open behind him.
He blinked and turned. The list of people who could walk into his father's office without knocking was extremely short.
Two middle-aged men stepped inside, and Saguru recognized both immediately.
Heizo Hattori, Supreme Superintendent of the Osaka Metropolitan Police.
Ginshiro Toyama, Chief of Criminal Investigation, Osaka Metropolitan Police.
Saguru had met them both before leaving for England. Like his own father, they occupied the absolute apex of Japan's law enforcement hierarchy.
"Mr. Hattori. Mr. Toyama. What brings you to Tokyo?"
"To discuss how to deal with Makoto Nishikado, of course," Heizo said.
A flash of surprise crossed Saguru's face, followed by cautious optimism. Adding Osaka's police brass hardly tipped the scales against someone like Makoto, but allies were allies.
"He's powerful, no question," Ginshiro said. "But he's too volatile. Too unpredictable. Having someone like that as the ruler of an entire nation is dangerous."
"So what's your plan?" Saguru had a guess, but he asked anyway.
All three men answered in unison.
"Infiltration."
Direct confrontation was suicide. They couldn't even handle Makoto's subordinates, let alone the man himself. That left exactly one path.
Heizo folded his arms. "It should be the best way to learn the secret behind how Makoto Nishikado awakens abilities."
"And if we're lucky," Ginshiro added, "whoever we send might even catch his eye, the way that Katsura girl did. Get powers of their own."
Saguru nodded. It made sense. Then a critical question occurred to him. "So who goes? Me?"
The three men, whose combined age cleared 150, couldn't help but laugh.
"You?"
"You'd be dead before you made it past Ishigami."
"Kid," Ginshiro said, the faintest smirk on his lips. "Haven't you noticed what Makoto Nishikado likes?"
Saguru stared for a few seconds, and then it clicked. "Women."
True enough. While Makoto had a handful of men in his circle, Ishigami, Beam, and a few others, the constant from day one had been an ever-growing parade of women. The Akizuki sisters, Megumi Kato, Utaha Kasumigaoka, Yui Yuigahama, and now Reze...
One after another after another.
"But then who do we send? She'd need to be attractive enough to catch his attention, and trustworthy enough to..."
Saguru mentally ran through every candidate he could think of. Nobody fit.
Heizo and Ginshiro exchanged a look, something complicated passing between them. Then Heizo called toward the door. "Come in."
A dark-skinned teenager stalked in, face set in a murderous scowl.
Saguru recognized him: Heiji Hattori, Heizo's son. Hailed as Osaka's greatest high school detective, frequently mentioned in the same breath as Shinichi Kudo in Tokyo. Not that Saguru considered either of them his equal, of course.
Behind Heiji came an elegant woman leading a girl in a sailor-style school uniform by the hand. The woman Saguru knew: Shizuka Hattori, Heizo's wife. The girl, he didn't.
"My daughter," Ginshiro said. "Kazuha Toyama."
It clicked.
The daughter of Osaka's chief of criminal investigation. Trustworthy, certainly. And Saguru had to admit, Kazuha was pretty. Maybe not on the level of the women already orbiting Makoto Nishikado, but she had a shot.
"Are you kidding me?!"
Heiji exploded. "You're seriously doing a honeypot operation? Do any of you have an ounce of dignity left as police officers?!"
"Shut up."
Heizo didn't spare his son a shred of face. "Do you have a better idea, Heiji?"
Heiji's fists clenched at his sides. He said nothing.
Heizo turned to his wife. "Shizuka. Take Kazuha to Totsuki. The helicopter's ready."
"...Alright."
Shizuka nodded and took Kazuha's hand again. "Come on, Kazuha. Let's go."
Kazuha hadn't spoken a single word throughout. As she was led toward the door, she glanced back one last time at Heiji.
Her eyes were dry.
The moment the helicopter was out of sight, the phone in Superintendent Hakuba's office shrieked to life.
A few seconds later, the blood drained from his face.
"The Americans are dropping nukes on Makoto Nishikado?!"
Heiji's first reaction was shock. His second, hot on its heels, was unbridled joy.
If Makoto died, his childhood friend wouldn't have to be handed over.
"Hey, Dad." He couldn't keep the eagerness out of his voice. "Can we call Kazuha back now?"
"No."
Heizo's tone left no room for argument. "Can you guarantee nukes will be enough to stop him?"
Heiji had no answer to that.
Silently, he prayed. Let the Tsar Bomba do the job.
Minutes crawled by. Then, across Tokyo, every living soul heard it: a roar building from the edge of the sky, swelling louder and louder and louder until the air itself seemed to tremble.
They looked up.
Several warheads carved bright arcs across the horizon.
"They're here!" Heiji's heart surged. But the next instant, the first massive warhead began its descent, plummeting far too fast, far too close...
The color drained from every face in the Metropolitan Police Department.
No. No, no, no. Totsuki was behind them. That warhead was falling short.
It swelled in their field of vision, growing enormous with terrifying speed.
Heiji and the others wore expressions of pure, primal terror.
No! NO!!!
But no amount of screaming could stop a Tsar Bomba from landing.
The blasts came in sequence.
White light erupted from the earth, swallowing Tokyo whole. More warheads fell, detonating in a spreading pattern across the city center, each impact edging closer to Totsuki Culinary Academy.
On the ground below, Kogoro Mouri and the others who'd been fleeing the campus felt the shockwaves at their backs. Cars were abandoned. People spilled from vehicles and stampeded back toward the academy gates they'd only just escaped, trampling one another in the crush.
The realization hit like a second detonation.
America wasn't targeting Totsuki. They were leveling all of Tokyo. Every last block, every last district, carpet-bombed into glass so that Makoto Nishikado had nowhere left to hide.
At the gates, Kogoro stopped caring about decency. Academy-honed reflexes kicked in and he shoved past the people ahead of him, boots finding shoulders and backs, sprinting for the entrance.
Then he saw it. They all saw it: Kogoro and the stampeding refugees on the ground, Shizuka Hattori and Kazuha Toyama watching from the helicopter directly above the campus.
A cluster of warheads sailed overhead, arcing down toward the dead center of Totsuki Culinary Academy.
A figure rocketed upward from the grounds.
Makoto Nishikado.
Mid-ascent, his body began to change.
The chainsaws spun to life, their grinding roar drowning out the wind.
Inside the helicopter, Shizuka and Kazuha watched. Seconds ago they'd been sick with worry for Heiji and the others below. Now they could only stare as Makoto reached up past his collar, fingers closing around something, pulling...
His abdomen split open. A thick, intestinal tendril of flesh erupted outward, coiling up his torso like a living thing, lashing around his throat and cinching tight. Kazuha nearly blacked out.
Skin peeled away. Matte-black devil armor scaled across every surface, muscles swelling grotesquely, bones cracking and reshaping, shredding his clothes. The human silhouette warped into something hulking and nightmarish.
His skull completed the transformation last. A thick black chainsaw blade punched through the front of his face, and both forearms below the elbow split into four parallel black saws, spitting sparks of dark crimson.
Shizuka went white.
He wasn't as large as the perfected Susanoo had been. Not even close. Yet the pressure radiating off him was worse. Incomparably worse.
A different species of terror entirely.
If the perfected Susanoo had been a god looking down on insects, then this... this was Hell itself cracking open, leaking its deepest malice into the world of the living.
His mere existence thickened the air, dimmed the light, and made every living heart on the planet clench involuntarily, shuddering in something older than fear.
Below, Nayuta held up her phone, streaming every second of it to the world.
The Black Chainsaw crossed all four arm-blades into an X.
And tore them apart.
One stroke to shake the earth.
If it had to be described in a single image: a massive shockwave of black energy wide enough to swallow the sky ripped upward, lunging at the falling warheads like the jaws of something hungry.
Space itself screamed where the slash passed through. The sky tore open along a black seam, clouds boiling apart to either side, as though heaven and earth were stepping out of the blade's way.
The world watched.
The two forces met.
For one instant, the universe went mute.
Across the Tokyo metropolitan area, the other warheads detonated. Mushroom clouds bloomed one after another, staining the sky the sick crimson of a furnace.
But where the Black Chainsaw's stroke passed, those mushroom clouds popped like soap bubbles.
Annihilated.
Not scattered. Not suppressed. Annihilated.
Those towering pillars of destruction, the apex of human civilization's killing power, evaporated before the black blade like a single droplet of water under the sun. Silent. Instantaneous. Gone.
As if they had never existed.
The warheads aimed directly at Totsuki didn't even get the dignity of detonating. The moment they touched the edge of that slash, they dissolved from solid matter to particles, from particles to nothing...
Every mushroom cloud over Tokyo. Every warhead aimed at the academy. Before the power the Black Chainsaw had unleashed, none of them were merely defeated.
They were annihilated.
The world fell silent.
In the livestream, hundreds of millions of viewers made no sound.
Those who'd been cheering a second ago when the warheads appeared. Those who'd been praying Makoto Nishikado would be blown to atoms. Those who'd been fantasizing that the light of civilization would finally triumph over the monster.
Their expressions froze, as though someone had hit pause.
Their minds were experiencing a collapse without precedent.
Humanity's most powerful weapon.
Before Makoto Nishikado, it hadn't even managed to make a sound.
Whether it was America, the mightiest nation on Earth, the rebels secretly opposing Makoto in the shadows, or onlookers like Shizuka Hattori...
All of them, in this moment, felt their last ember of hope die.
Heiji Hattori lay at the edge of the Metropolitan Police Department's ruins. Everything below his ribcage was gone. What remained of him was charred black. His hollow eyes stared at the figure descending slowly from the torn sky.
His lips trembled. No sound came out.
What filled him instead was a despair that sank into the marrow.
Can anything actually stop him?
The ultimate weapon of the human era... and it looked that small in front of him.
Is there anyone left in this world who can?
Shizuka Hattori closed her eyes. Tears slid from beneath her lashes.
She understood now. The look her husband Heizo had worn months ago, watching Makoto Nishikado tear through Tokyo. That expression of impotent fury, of rage curdled into resignation.
I'm sorry, Heizo. Heiji. I can't fulfill what you left behind.
All I can do now is close my eyes and pray that Makoto Nishikado shows mercy. That he treats this world with something resembling kindness...
The helicopter bucked in the turbulence. Kazuha clung to her seat, knuckles bloodless, face paper-white.
She watched the figure drift down from the sky, and her lips trembled.
...That's the person I'm being sent to?
...The person who's brought the entire world to its knees?
The figure touched down on the grounds of Totsuki Culinary Academy. Somewhere during the descent, he'd already shifted back.
The dark crimson sparks faded. The devil armor receded scale by scale. Twisted bone and swollen muscle contracted, smoothing back into a human frame.
The chainsaw skull melted away, and in its place: a young man's face, calm, unbothered.
As if the stroke that had just annihilated nuclear warheads was nothing more than swatting a fly.
Behind him, Tokyo smoldered in ruin, and the scorched earth left by millions of tons of nuclear fire stretched to the horizon.
"Here."
Alice Nakiri gazed at him with undisguised adoration and pressed a cup of milk tea into his hand.
Still warm.