Kyoto, an unknown shrine.
Makima stands before a half-length mirror, quietly tightening the freshly changed uniform tie.
Outside the door, Michiko Tendo's voice sounds.
"Miss Makima, the thirty death-row inmates you asked us to find have been brought here."
"Good." Makima answers, her tone without a ripple. "I'll go now."
She lifts her gaze, silently regarding the woman in the mirror—the intelligent one with long orange hair.
The one inside regards her in exactly the same way.
Their eyes meet for about two seconds.
Then Makima turns, slides open the wooden door.
…
"Why do even we have to wear blindfolds?" Kurose mutters as he follows, one hand on the wall, the other on the railing.
He can understand the thirty kneeling death-row inmates being blindfolded, but he and Tendo are Public Safety staff—why keep things secret from them?
"Miss Makima isn't only the head of Tokyo's Division 4," Tendo explains. "She's also a devil hunter directly under the Chief Cabinet Secretary. Staff like us aren't even allowed to know which devil she's contracted with."
Makima steps down from the wooden terrace, walking toward the level ground at the mountaintop.
Her stride is steady but not slow. The leather boots press into the earth, leaving faint prints and the snapped stems of grass broken in an instant.
Thirty blindfolded death-row inmates kneel there in silence, like convicted subjects awaiting the arrival of their empress—awaiting the judgment from her lips that will decide their final fate.
It is terrifying.
Especially for the first prisoner in line. He keeps his head down, straining his ears for any scrap of information he can glean.
But the wind is a bit strong up here.
He can only hear the tiny scraping of grass stems breaking, the quick whistling the wind makes through the leaves, and the faint rustle of pant legs growing nearer.
And then—boots stopping in front of him.
Makima looks down at the prisoner.
There is no disdain in her eyes, no pity, no thrill of justice served, no remorse at a life about to be taken.
Only those golden irises, ring upon ring, faintly glinting.
Not emptiness. Not indifference.
Depth.
Just as no one knows what devil she's contracted with, no one can know what she's thinking.
Or perhaps—she's thinking of everything.
Watching the prisoner before her start to tremble as he rises, Makima slowly half-squats.
The matte fabric of her uniform trousers rubs against skin with a fine, grainy sound.
Expressionless, she speaks softly:
"Say it. Mishima Shuzo."
"Mishima… Shuzo…"
The prisoner repeats in a daze.
Makima's lips curve—just a small arc.
The shadow of the eaves falls across half her profile.
She stacks her palms together, palm to palm.
Makima gently turns her hands, like a millstone… as if squeezing something to powder.
So effortlessly.
Thud.
The death-row inmate who spoke the name collapses to the ground.
His head buries into the grass; blood begins to water the wild growth.
The metallic reek and the sound of it ride the wind.
But everyone present behaves as if they sense nothing, keeping perfectly still and perfectly silent.
Utterly uncanny.
Makima stands and steps before the second prisoner.
The same motions, the same voice—only the name changes.
"Say it. Inoue Takashi."
"Inoue Takashi!"
Akane Sawatari glances at the second man among the thirty whose body has burst apart, her face clouded.
As expected, the radio in her hand gives no reply.
As if everyone in Group C had been wiped out.
No—not "as if."
If it's that woman… they're absolutely all dead!
"What went wrong?" Katana Man grits his teeth through the invisible needles still running wild inside him and the flames raging across his back, coming to stand beside Akane.
"Makima… isn't dead." Akane clenches the radio, her tone full of fear and resentment. "Plan's changed. Go start the car. We're pulling out now."
"What about that girl?" The blades on Katana Man's head fade, and he returns to the form of the black-haired middle-aged man. "We fought all that time and didn't take her, did we…"
"Just get the car. I'll think of something."
Akane snaps, then shifts her gaze off the two Su Tangs. "I'll offer my remaining right arm as the price—Snake, Devo—what?!"
Her raised right arm freezes midair.
She stares at where Denji had been lying—an empty fissure moments ago. Now someone is suddenly standing there.
A woman with gorgeous golden hair and two short red horns.
Akane knows her.
During the battle she exhausted herself saving Himeno and collapsed… Akane hadn't intended to worry about her, but somehow the girl is up again!
That in itself wouldn't matter… if she weren't yanking the pull-cord on Denji's chest.
"Swallow your anger and it festers; take a step back and you just get walked on! Ahahaha! I'm alive again!"
Power laughs wildly at Akane from across the way, and with a tug the cord whips out to arm's length. "This great lady is going to earn great merit! You lot can just wait to die!"
BZZZZZZ—!!
The chainsaw's roar erupts.
Transformed Denji springs upright like Su Tang had earlier—"a dying patient jolting from the sickbed."
"Mr. Su Tang!"
The first thing she does upon waking is call his name.
"Don't shout—he's there." Power juts her chin, pointing. "That guy's fine too—and he's split into two. You get to enjoy double the fun."
The six tritium tubes on Denji's head flare all at once.
"Ahhhh! Damn it! Unfair!"
Seeing her reaction, Power puffs her cheeks and yells, "Why do you get double the fun?! I'm joining in too! Share it with me!!"
"Damn!"
Akane raises her arm, glances at the thirty men popping like ripe watermelons one after another, and grits her teeth for a last gamble: "—Snake, Devo—"
SCREEEE—!!
Tires scream against asphalt.
A van fishtails to a stop in front of her. Before Akane can rage at it, Katana Man rolls the window down, eyes wide. "Get in! Something terrifying caught up to us!"
"Terrifying…?"
Akane frowns toward the direction the van came from. At the mouth of the street, a small figure in a Public Safety uniform appears.
Long brown hair, a half-length fringe, two peach-colored clips, four beauty marks, and…
A knife?!
"You two… you're the shooters, right?!"
Kobeni Higashiyama tilts her head. Her body won't stop trembling as she stares at Akane and Katana Man.
For some reason—though she looks weak and easily bullied, though even the hand holding the knife is shaking—when Akane sees that face slick with tears and sweat, a primal terror rises in her heart!
Like prey facing its hunter!
Run. Run now.
Sirens of danger blare inside. Akane doesn't even glance back at the field—she wrenches the door open and dives into the van.
"Trying to run?!"
Denji licks her chainsaw and is about to give chase when Power cries out in surprise.
"Su Tang?!"
…Mr. Su Tang, what about him?
The thought flashes through Denji's mind—she turns and sees both Su Tangs down on the ground, clutching their heads in agony.
One black and one white light well out of them, drifting in the air.
Then they draw together, spinning.
"Mr. Su Tang!"
Denji immediately forgets Akane and Katana Man. She dismisses the chainsaws, shifts back to human, and runs over—only to find the two Su Tangs already one again, the black and white light sinking into his body and vanishing.
Even in his faint, his brows are knotted in pain. Denji, frantic, cries, "A doctor? Where's a doctor? Power, Kobeni, call a doctor!"
The scene explodes into motion.
So no one notices a figure sprint up, look anxiously from a distance, and then vanish.
"Hah."
Katana Man brakes the van and, still shaken, pulls out a cigarette.
"How? The intel said only Aki Hayakawa was a tough one. How is everyone a monster?!"
He flicks his lighter, gets angrier as he thinks, and slams a fist into the steering wheel.
An unkillable, self-resurrecting, self-duplicating blue-scaled guy; a young man with a Curse Devil contract and superb close combat; a chainsaw creature just like him; a cute little girl who's tiny but terrifying… and the unfathomable Makima.
Damn it—why is Tokyo Public Safety nothing but freaks?!
Fuming, he lights up, then grumbles toward the back, "Your intel wasn't worth crap."
"That was from Valmont. He said he intercepted it from an official special unit in San Francisco." Akane frowns. "Didn't expect it to turn out like this… Damn—did that bastard Valmont already foresee this and feed me incomplete info on purpose?!"
"Heh. Idiot."
Katana Man snorts, not saying who he means.
"What do we do next? The contract with the Gun Devil is set—we're supposed to bring back Denji's heart." Akane rolls the window down with her one arm to air out the smoke.
"No rush. Let Public Safety jump at shadows for a while."
He takes a long drag and narrows his eyes. "Gives us time to recover… and gives them time to grow."
Akane seems to think of something and leaves it unchallenged.
"Hah."
Blowing a ring of smoke, Katana Man suddenly asks, "Did you set any other rearguard on this op?"
"No. Why?"
"Someone's coming."
He crushes the butt in the tray, shifts into gear. "What bad luck—someone even shows up in a dump of an alley like this."
Hands on the wheel, he glares at the girl ahead in a shop clerk's uniform, violet hair lifting in the heat.
One step, two—she comes closer and closer, until he can hear her voice.
"You two, after hurting my teacher…"
"Where exactly do you think you're going?!"
A tongue of flame flickers!
Katana Man's face twists in shock—he transforms in an instant.
BOOM—!!
The van explodes. The blast flings the steel doors dozens of meters.
Fire races down the alley, feeding on trash, scraps of paper, cigarette butts—swaggering accomplices for its spread.
Gasping, Katana Man glances at Akane, whom he'd kicked out just in time.
"Who is that?" he shouts.
Akane seems to know.
She stares at the figure walking through the flames, face going to despair.
"The Bomb Devil… Reze… the Soviet Guinea Pig's famed agent. Why is she here?!"
"Guinea Pig's people?"
Katana Man blinks, then twists his head and yells, "Wait—wait! We have no quarrel with Guinea Pig! There's some misunderstanding, right?!"
"Misunderstanding?"
Reze holds a dangerous smile, tilts her head, and reaches for the pull-ring at her neck.
"I saw you hurt my teacher. How could I let you go?"
Clink.
The ring comes free.
Like pulling a grenade pin.
Katana Man's body locks up on the spot!
Impossible—another one like me!
In a blink, Reze's head morphs from human to torpedo shape, her arms wrapped tight in explosive fuses. A skirt of blasting caps appears about her like an apron.
"You—"
Knowing exactly how troublesome his own kind is, Katana Man rushes, blades sweeping for Reze's head.
A flash of light.
Then a bang.
KA-BOOM—!!
He flies backward, smashes into the alley wall in a wrap of fire. His abdomen splits open, intestines and viscera spilling everywhere.
"Useless, useless—you can't beat her…"
Akane slumps to the ground, shaking her head. Her psyche is already shattered by despair.
"Damn it! Aren't you great at calling reinforcements?! Anyone el—"
Katana Man curses as he shoves his guts back in—then two figures appear ahead.
A woman with a long whip.
A man with a flamethrower for a head.
Weapon hybrids, just like him.
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