At the Public Safety Devil Hunter Japan headquarters, the echo of hurried footsteps filled the main hall as Aki and Himeno stepped inside. Dust still clung to their uniforms from the chaos at Aokigahara, and both carried the same tense energy—neither in the mood for formalities.
They were met at the entrance by Fumiko Mifune, standing there with her usual practiced smile.
"Welcome back," she said, voice dripping with a forced politeness. "I hope everything went well at Aokigahara Forest. By the way, the Prime Minister is here to see you."
The tone was casual, but Aki's eyes hardened. He and Himeno both knew better—after what happened, after Barem's ambush under the Prime Minister's orders, "meeting" the man who tried to have them killed wasn't on their list of priorities.
Aki kept his voice even, but there was no mistaking the bite beneath it. "How about the evacuation? Personnel here, civilians in Tokyo. The mission failed—you've seen the city. It's falling apart."
Fumiko didn't flinch. "No can do. You owe Prime Minister Kentaro an explanation. A lot of JSDF died out there, and the streets are already in ruins. He's… expecting you."
Aki and Himeno exchanged a glance—wordless, but both reading the same thought in each other's eyes. They started forward toward the meeting chamber.
But before they could make it far, Fumiko's expression shifted. The fake warmth vanished, replaced by cold calculation. Her hand dipped into her jacket. In one smooth motion, she drew a pistol—its muzzle flashing once. The shot rang out.
Aki's fingers were already in motion. His hand formed the familiar canine sign, voice sharp. "Kon."
From the floor beside him, a massive fox devil's head erupted into existence, jaws snapping closed in front of Himeno. The bullet pinged harmlessly off its spectral teeth.
Himeno didn't even flinch. She glanced sideways at Aki with a crooked grin. "Nice save, Aki."
Aki's gaze swept the room, noting movement at the corners—. The glint of gunmetal confirmed it.
"Looks like we're surrounded," he muttered.
From the far end of the chamber, the heavy double doors opened, and Prime Minister Kentaro stepped in,. He held up a hand, trying to look every bit the reasonable statesman.
"Please, stand down," he said smoothly. "I apologize for Fumiko being a bit—"
Before he could finish, Himeno's ghost hand whipped out with blinding speed, wrapping tightly around Fumiko's throat. The woman's pistol clattered to the floor as she clawed at the spectral grip.
Himeno's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Oops. My hand slipped."
Kentaro's jaw tensed. "Do you even know what Makima is? Why I put up that stunt at Aokigahara Forest?"
Aki's voice was low, but the anger in it was clear. "I saw Makima crying earlier. She's a good woman who lost her lover—and was left powerless because of you. And now we're in an apocalyptic situation, with a monster tearing Tokyo apart while you're playing politics."
Kentaro's composure cracked for a moment, . " What the fuck's going on here. After Kang Woo arrived—that crazy alien Makima reported—Japan lost its footing. We're being blackmailed into this mess by Vought, and now someone wants to sympathize with a devil—the Control Devil herself, Makima. And all of it… happens when I'm in office. Why?"
His focus wavered, the words spilling out like a man venting more than strategizing.
That's when Kishibe appeared. The door slammed open, and in a blur of movement, Kishibe crossed the room, blade flashing. Several gunmen dropped before they could even turn their weapons. Behind him, Denji—already in full Chainsaw Man form—burst in with a guttural roar, chainsaws revving. Power followed close, swinging her blood hammer with gleeful abandon.
"Waahahahaha! I am FREEEE to kill some humansss! No Makima here to stop meeee!" Power shouted, laughing like she'd been waiting for this all day.
Kishibe didn't even glance at her, stepping over a fallen gunman. His eyes locked on Aki and Himeno.
"Sorry I'm late. Anyone wounded?"
"None," Aki replied, his gaze flicking to the bodies on the floor. "But from the looks of it, we're still surrounded. Kishibe-san… how's the plan I discussed with you?"
Kishibe's mouth twitched into a smile—though there was a faint hint of guilt behind it. "About that…"
He glanced at Denji and Power, deadpanned.
Power immediately pointed at Denji. "It's Denji's fault! He told me to make the explosive traps, so I flooded them with blood!"
Denji snapped around, pointing a chainsaw at her. "You little shit! I told you to pick the timer! You said you understood electronics!"
Power puffed her chest out proudly. "I do understand electronics, Denji! My IQ is five hundred thousand!"
"Yeah? Then explain why the timer went off before we even got here!" Denji barked.
"Because I was too smart for it, obviously," Power said smugly, as if she'd just explained physics to a child.
Aki couldn't help a small laugh, shaking his head. "For the moment… I'm glad I failed."
Himeno smirked faintly. "I can see that—since everyone's still here bickering instead of dead."
Kentaro's eyes narrowed, the momentary crack in his composure sealing shut. His voice carried a cold weight now, sharp and deliberate. "I did what I had to do to protect this nation ."
The truth was uglier than he'd ever admit. Vought's threats had cornered him before this day,. He told himself it was for Japan's survival, that bending to their will was better than America's crushing penalties. Vought was no ordinary corporation—they were a nation hidden inside another, moving with invisible hands.
Kentaro's expression hardened, his tone turning venomous. " one thing's for sure—most of you can die by bullets. Right now."
The metallic clack of dozens of weapons cocking echoed through the chamber. Gunmen stepped forward in unison, their rifles leveled at Aki, Himeno, Kishibe, Denji, and Power. The sound was like the slow grind of a guillotine being readied, the air thick with that electric tension before an execution.
Kentaro tilted his head slightly, voice dropping to an almost casual threat. "So… what's it gonna be?"
Kishibe glanced at his team, a wry smile tugging at his lips despite the odds. "You know as well as I do… a lot of us aren't walking out of here. Ready, guys?"
They all tightened their grips—Aki's hand hovering at his sword, Himeno's ghost hand twitching, Denji's chainsaws revving, and Power grinning like a lunatic.
Kentaro began counting, his voice sharp and deliberate. "One… two—"
The rest of the number never came.
The walls behind him exploded inward, a deafening shockwave ripping through the chamber., shards of concrete scattering like shrapnel, and in the chaos, Makima descended—crashing in at Mach speed. She landed without a stumble, her single black wing folding behind her, the reishi halo above her head spinning like a radiant crown. The air shifted—suffocating, heavy—yet impossibly calm in her presence.
Everyone froze. The gunman, , even Kentaro himself. Only her squad moved, their eyes locked on her—The kind of relief soldiers feel when their commander comes back from hell itself.
Makima's gaze swept over the room in a single, precise motion. She didn't waste a second. Raising her reishi-forged left arm, she unleashed a volley of Heilig Pfeil—blinding streaks of light cutting through the air. The arrows tore through the gunmen before they could even react, rifles clattering uselessly to the floor as bodies dropped.
Makima eyes then locked onto Kentaro, the man who had orchestrated her betrayal. Her lips curved into most cutting smirk. "Consider this… my resignation."
Her right hand curled into the shape of a pistol, index finger aimed at him. "BANG."
A telekinetic round slammed into Kentaro's leg with a sickening crack.
"MY LEG—! Youuuu—!" Kentaro howled, collapsing against the wall, clutching at the wound.
Makima stepped forward, her shadow stretching across him. From the swirling darkness at her side, the red leash gunblade materialized—its blade etched with runes that glowed , its hilt shaped like a Beretta's grip. She raised it, the muzzle hovering inches from his face.
"If you want to kill me for good,"better do it properly." Her finger tightened on the trigger—
"Makima-san!" Aki's voice cut through the tension, urgent but steady. He stepped in, hand raised in restraint. "I understand your vengeance, but killing the Prime Minister now would throw Japan into chaos. The Tokyo's already falling apart—if you do this now, it'll shatter completely. Can you at least postpone it… until this is over?"
His tone was a plea. A soldier begging his commander not to make the battlefield worse.
Makima's gaze shifted briefly to him, then back to Kentaro. A beat passed. The smirk faded, replaced by a cold, unreadable mask. She lowered the weapon, the blade retracting into the swirling darkness at her side. Her enemy, Lucifero, was still undefeated.
A hundred meters above, Lucifero hovered in the sky, his four wings spread wide, the air warping around him. His voice boomed down like an executioner's verdict.
"You call yourself the commander of this nation's so-called protector organization? Pathetic."
Lucifero words dripped contempt,. "An invalid devil who needed bestowed power to even stand before me. That black flame you flaunt? You can't even wield it to its full potential. While I… am a natural-born king."
His eyes narrowed, the third one on his forehead gleaming with malice.
"I will end this farce, Makima. Our fight is nothing but a disappointment. You are nothing more than a former magicless creature who should have stayed beneath my notice."
Then—far above, in low orbit—a shadow eclipsed the sky. His 3-kilometer sword, hurled from the heavens, screamed through the atmosphere at Mach 10, a streak of annihilation aimed to wipe out the headquarters, the city, and everyone in it.
From the shattered, exposed upper floors of the Public Safety Devil Hunter HQ, the shadow of Lucifero's descending blade blotted out the sky. The sheer pressure of its fall warped the air, turning the wind into a screaming gale.
Himeno's ghost hand loosened its grip on Fumiko's throat, the spectral fingers fading. For a brief moment, Himeno's expression cracked into something raw—helplessness. Fumiko didn't waste the opening; she bolted without a word, sprinting toward the far end of the ruin.
"Denji!" Power barked, yanking at his arm. "Let's run to Kobeni's flying ship now—we can still survive!"
Denji gave her a flat look. "Run away? Did you see how big that thing is? that's a 'hope the afterlife's got free food' size! What, you blind now?"
Power paused, squinted at the sky, then flinched. "...Oh. Uh. Maybe."
Himeno exhaled, pulled a cigarette from her case, and lit it despite the screaming winds outside. She smiled faintly at Aki. "Aki-kun… I'm grateful I'm not alone in the end."
Aki Exhaled the air like its his final moment "Himeno-senpai… Makima-san once told me you might be a worthy partner—in life and in death. That you could be the only one who's ever truly cared for me unconditionally. She also said I needed to move on from her. Is that true?"
Himeno's gaze lingered on him, cigarette burning between her fingers. Her voice was quiet, warm. "What do you think I've been doing all these years? That earring I made you wear… that time I tried to make you smo—"
She didn't finish. Aki stepped forward, closing the distance in an instant, and kissed her. It wasn't desperate—it was certain. Himeno's eyes widened, then filled with tears as her long-buried wish finally bloomed into reality.
When they parted, Aki pulled her into a tight embrace. "I wish I'd had more time… to know what I should see, and what I shouldn't ignore."
Himeno rested her forehead against his shoulder, smiling through her tears. "It's okay, Aki. Better now than too late… thank you… for accepting me."
Kishibe stood a few steps away, watching the two of them with that tired half-smile only a man who had seen too much could wear. His eyes swept over the scene—Denji and Power bickering like lunatics in the shadow of the apocalypse, Aki and Himeno holding each other without fear, without regret. Even with their lives seconds from ending, not one of them looked away.
Kishibe's voice was almost casual, but it carried the weight of a final wish. "Guess my only regret… is not seeing Quanxi again. Or taking her out, just once."
Makima stood frozen for a heartbeat. The colossal blade was seconds from impact, the atmosphere shrieking as it tore downward—but her hand rose, almost on instinct, shaping into a pistol gesture.
And then— The battlefield, the noise, the collapsing HQ—all of it was gone. She stood in an endless white space, surrounded by countless figures… all of them her. Dozens, hundreds, each one a different incarnation of the Control Devil, each carrying themselves with the same quiet dominance, each staring at her with knowing eyes.
They spoke in perfect unison,. "Thank you."
Makima's breath caught in understanding.
The figures lifted their hands, mirroring her pistol gesture, and pointed upward. "That will do."
Through the crowd stepped a single girl, younger in frame but with a presence that didn't falter. Shoulder-cut dark brown hair, a lone bang falling over her face, a mole beneath her left eye. And in her gaze—those same yellow irises, ringed with concentric red circles,
She reached out, steadying Makima's grip with her own small hand.
"I am Nayuta," the girl said, her tone calm but carrying something vast. "Your future… should Kang Woo somehow make us meet. We're so glad you continued living for us. Now… here it comes. The concept—control itself."
Makima's expression didn't change. Her voice was steady, . "Bang."
The word became reality. From her finger, a single bullet of soul and will burst forth—pure, inevitable. It shot through the world beyond, piercing the heavens. In an instant, the 3-kilometer blade above Tokyo shattered into harmless motes before it could even touch the ground.
As the light faded, her head was filled with one final echo from the very essence of her being. "Don't worry. You are already right. It's coming—your control… the kind that will make gods afraid."
High above, Lucifero was caught in the fading aftershock of the blast. His massive frame staggered in the air, black blood spilling from fresh wounds. Across his face, an ugly, jagged scar burned—.
Lucifero voice roared across the battlefield, but there was something under the fury… disbelief.
"How… HOW?! A wretch of a being that has never lived for millennia dares to grasp the soul magic itself?! That wretch's soul—!" His teeth ground together, voice cracking into a snarl. "—just managed to shatter my Judgment! Even I could not…!"