Narrator POV.
—Let me tell you something, and I want this to be perfectly clear —Makima spoke in a sweet, calm tone—. From now on, you are my pet. So I only allow you to say yes or woof. I don't need a dog that says no.
Denji blinked, confused. Makima continued, never losing her smile:
—A friend in the forensic department told me that, in Public Safety, they put dogs to sleep if they aren't useful.
Inside, Denji descended into complete chaos.
(And here I was thinking she was a good person!? I was already starting to like her a little! Cruel? Yes. Macabre? Also yes. How dare she treat me like a dog?) —He frowned… but then a memory of Pochita crossed his mind, and he let out a resigned sigh.
Isagi raised his hand, uncomfortable.
—Uh… this doesn't apply to me, right? —he asked bluntly. Yes, he liked money, but not enough to start barking for it. Dignity came first.
Makima turned to him without losing her gentle tone.
—Hm? Oh, of course not. Denji is a special case, and he will be treated specially. You will be treated the same as the other hunters —she replied naturally before turning her gaze back to the window.
(So… she'll still see me as a dog anyway.) Isagi thought irritably. Because, honestly, to Makima everyone was a dog. Some barked… and others pretended they didn't.
And a very lucky few were immune to Makima's manipulation and the powers of the Control Devil—though Isagi didn't know the conditions for immunity. He just hoped he had whatever it took.
.
.
.
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Some time later…
The car stopped in front of a small food stall located on the outskirts of the city—or in this case, near the entrance, since they were heading back rather than leaving.
There was heavy traffic on the road, an endless line of cars crawling forward at a snail's pace, so stopping for a while wouldn't make any difference. Besides, Denji's stomach hadn't stopped growling for several minutes.
Makima could hear it just as clearly as Isagi, so she decided to stop and buy him something before the boy literally passed out from hunger.
The three of them stood in front of the stall, beneath the faint aroma of hot broth drifting through the air. The menu was written on an old chalkboard stained with steam marks, listing all the dishes the place offered.
—Go ahead, order whatever you want —Makima said, looking at the blond, who stared at the menu as if it were a sacred treasure.
—Um… I want an udon… and a sausage too. If that's okay? —Denji asked, turning to Makima.
She nodded with a gentle smile.
—I'll have curry udon, please —Makima added.
Isagi simply declined with a finger. He wasn't hungry—or rather, he didn't want to spend money right now. Besides, he preferred to observe.
—I'll have your orders ready shortly —the cook said, jotting everything down quickly before returning to his small improvised kitchen.
Denji swallowed hard when he heard the word "curry."
—Curry udon… that sounds delicious too… —he said in a breathy voice, though almost immediately he began to sway. His eyelids trembled and his vision blurred.
Before he could collapse, Makima caught him by the arm. Denji, half-dazed and out of strength, ended up leaning against Makima's chest, her soft clothing cushioning his fall. He didn't know what was happening… he only felt that he had landed on something warm, soft, and surprisingly comfortable.
—Are you okay, Denji? —Makima asked calmly, still holding him.
But Denji was completely lost, in a daze, unconsciously inhaling Makima's sweet, clean scent.
—Denji —she repeated.
—Ah! —Denji blinked rapidly, snapping back to awareness—. Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I just… think I lost a lot of blood when I transformed and… I think I might be getting anemia —he said with a nervous laugh.
Makima simply held him until he fully regained his balance.
Isagi watched the whole thing with little interest. He shrugged and walked away to sit at a nearby table, lightly kicking a small stone along the way. The stone rolled a few meters, but once it veered off its original path, Isagi stopped following it.
A fundamental rule: if the stone strayed, you couldn't go back for it.
The unwritten rules were clear.
With a sigh of relief at finally being alone, Isagi dropped into one of the empty tables. The tension he had felt while near Makima slowly began to fade now that he had put a reasonable distance between them.
He stretched lazily, relaxing his shoulders, then opened the system's inventory. There, the small metallic vial of the T-Virus appeared—the one he had obtained as a reward for killing the zombie devil.
(If I remember correctly… this sketchy-looking liquid can give insane abilities, but it also has some nasty side effects. Like that guy from Resident Evil 4… the one who looked like he walked straight out of The Matrix. He got supernatural powers, ridiculous strength… but he had to eat human flesh to keep the virus under control.) —Isagi thought calmly, surprisingly analytical for someone who knew himself to be a "functional dumbass," but who at least knew how to use what he remembered.
(If the system did the same thing it did with the Crimson Orchid serum… then the negative effects should be removed. But still… this isn't the best time to start injecting myself with things. Better wait until I'm completely alone.) —Decision made, he closed the system interface. Just then, he saw Makima adjusting Denji.
Laying him down gently on the other side of the table, like an exhausted puppy.
Isagi drummed his fingers against the table, frowning as he remembered that the system—once again—had given him something he needed to inject, despite him having already warned it that he didn't want any more needles in his life.
—Stubborn damn system… —he muttered to himself.
Makima, after making sure Denji was comfortable, adjusted her coat with elegance. Then she walked over to Isagi and, without much thought, sat down right next to him.
Isagi's eye twitched. There were literally several empty benches… and yet she chose to sit beside him!
With as much discretion as possible, Isagi slid a few centimeters to the left, moving slowly and deliberately, as if trying not to wake a sleeping beast. Creating distance. Gentle. Subtle. Healthy for his survival.
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End of the chapter.