After dinner, everyone laid out their sleeping bags around the campfire and settled in for the night.
"I feel gross," Alice said, pouting. "We can't even take a bath."
She'd been terrified senseless the moment they crossed over and saw the Gun Devil, then spent the entire journey from Hokkaido to Tokyo without a single chance to wash up.
"Nothing we can do about it, sweetheart. Just tough it out." Sōe gave a helpless shrug.
Alice shot her useless father a withering look, burrowed into her sleeping bag, and refused to speak another word.
That night, she tossed and turned in the bag, twisting this way and that. Finally her eyes snapped open, her face scrunched in misery. "No... it's too itchy. I can't sleep."
Back in the real world, she'd bathed every single day. It was ingrained habit. The first two days after crossing over, sheer terror had pushed it from her mind, but now that she'd calmed down, the feeling was completely different. It was like people who washed their hair daily and then skipped a day; the phantom itch was unbearable. (The author had the same problem.)
Then she remembered: earlier that day, while riding Makoto's Perfect Susanoo through the sky, she'd spotted a small river nearby. It was still winter, sure, but even wiping down with some water would be better than nothing.
Alice crept out of her sleeping bag and slipped through the trees toward the lakeside.
She'd barely been gone a minute when Makoto woke up too, needing to relieve himself. He paused, noticing the empty sleeping bag beside him.
At the water's edge, the cold wind hit Alice and she shivered. Still, she cupped lake water in her palms and gently wiped down her pale skin.
Before long, grime started coming off.
"Ew..."
Another involuntary shiver ran through her.
"Disgusting. I definitely need to wash properly."
"Hey, big sis! Big sis!"
A voice rang out from nowhere, high and squeaky like a little girl's. Alice nearly toppled into the lake. She whipped around and found herself staring at a seagull the size of a lion.
"Wh-what are you?"
"I'm the Seagull Devil! Big sis, can you give me something to eat?"
The Seagull Devil gazed at her with wide, pleading eyes. Apart from its enormous size and red beak, it looked remarkably like an ordinary seagull. Not nearly as terrifying as she'd imagined a devil would be. Combined with that childlike voice, Alice's fear faded fast.
"Big sis, please? Something to eat?"
Alice's heart softened. "Um... I think there's some leftover rice back at camp. Come with me, and I'll get it for you."
The Seagull Devil shook its head vigorously. "I don't want rice, big sis."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to eat... your eyeballs!"
Its voice spiked into a shriek mid-sentence, and that massive beak yawned open. Only then did Alice see: rows of teeth lined the inside, sharp as a shark's.
She fell backward into the lake with a splash.
The Seagull Devil spread its wings and lunged after her, its voice turning shrill and gleeful. "I love eating eyeballs! I can't believe I found a living person out here in the middle of nowhere. This is my lucky day!"
"H-help! Help me!!"
Alice had grown up in a coastal country. She could swim. But staring up at those fangs closing in from above, she forgot everything, flailing wildly, slapping at the water as if that alone might keep the creature away.
In that split second, an enormous skeletal hand reached out and crushed the Seagull Devil in its grip.
Before either Alice or the devil could process what happened, a figure dropped onto the lake's surface, scooped her up in one motion, and pulled her out.
"What the hell are you doing out here?"
Makoto's voice was sharp with irritation.
Alice stared at his face for several long seconds. Then her eyes filled with tears, and she burst into sobs, throwing her arms around his waist, crying so hard her whole body shook.
"You... you're a Devil Hunter? What kind of devil power is this?" the Seagull Devil snarled from within the Susanoo's skeletal grip.
Makoto didn't bother answering. He tightened the fist and crushed it into pulp.
He lifted Alice into a princess carry and leaped to the shore, ready to take her back to camp.
But she pressed her face into his chest and whispered, "Don't... don't take me back. I don't want Mom and Dad to worry."
He didn't argue. Instead he chopped down a few trees, lit them with Fire Release, and built her a fire.
"You going to keep wearing wet clothes?"
Alice's cheeks flushed.
He pulled off his own jacket and held it out to her. She looked at it, and warmth bloomed in her chest.
Two minutes later, Alice emerged from behind a large tree wearing Makoto's jacket. She set her wet clothes and underwear by the fire to dry.
Then she caught his gaze and glanced down. Two very conspicuous points pressed through the thin fabric.
Her face went scarlet. She crossed her arms over her chest.
Makoto looked away. "Don't trust anything a devil says. Most of them are bad news."
She hadn't explained anything, but he'd pieced together the whole story easily enough.
Alice murmured agreement. A moment later, she let out a sudden sneeze.
Makoto stood up, and Alice flinched.
"Wh-what are you doing?"
He stared at her. "Getting your sleeping bag."
He vanished on the spot, and when he reappeared a heartbeat later, the sleeping bag was already in his hands.
Alice's face burned again. She'd been expecting... well, in every romance movie she'd ever watched, this was the part where the guy warmed the girl up with his body heat.
These two cousins were really cut from the same cloth. One binged romance manga, the other binged romance movies, and both came away convinced they were experts on love.
Wrapped up in the sleeping bag, Alice felt much better. Then something crossed her mind, and she blurted out, "So, um... Nishikado, when are you and Erina going to... you know... do it?"
Makoto gave her an odd sideways look. Why did she care about that?
But he answered anyway. "Once the house is finished. I'm not putting on a show for everyone."
Alice went quiet.
For some reason, a prickle of discomfort settled in her chest, and she couldn't explain why.
Makoto glanced at the clothes drying by the fire. "They're dry. Let's head back."
"Mm..."
Early the next morning, Sōe headed into the city by taxi as Makoto had instructed, looking to hire a construction crew to come out and build them a proper house.
The two pairs of Nakiri mothers and daughters weren't idle either. Relying on Makoto for money forever wasn't sustainable, so they decided to set up a roadside food stall to earn their keep. A group of people camping out long-term doing nothing would draw too much attention anyway.
Makoto, meanwhile, headed out again to track down Pochita.
Today, though, he had a new idea. He didn't necessarily have to chase Pochita's trail. There was another lead: Denji.
The original story made it clear that before joining Public Safety, Denji lived in a rundown shack on the outskirts of Tokyo. He'd met Pochita at his father's "funeral," though calling it a funeral was generous. Denji had found a spot to bury his old man, and Pochita had just... shown up.
In other words, even without finding Pochita directly, intercepting Denji would work.
And finding Denji was far easier than finding Pochita.
By that evening, Makoto had located a lone wooden shack on another patch of empty land on Tokyo's outskirts. He'd barely taken two steps toward it when the door flew open with a kick, and a middle-aged man stomped out, cursing under his breath.
"Goddammit! No way I'm losing again today. Good thing that bitch left some cash before she croaked. Enough to keep me going a while longer."
The man hadn't taken three steps before a boy, no more than three or four years old, came running out after him. Small hands clutched at his pant leg, and a timid voice said, "Daddy... I'm hungry..."
"Get off me!"
The man kicked the boy aside and snarled, "The hell is wrong with you? Always spending my money, always wanting more. If you're hungry, go chew on some bark. Stop bothering me!"
Without a backward glance at the crying child behind him, the man walked away.
Makoto watched the scene and clicked his tongue.
Didn't matter which world it was. Scum was scum.
He vanished.
Back at camp, Erina and the others were working on a menu and prepping to open the food stall. When Makoto suddenly appeared, they all blinked.
"Makoto, you're back?" Erina started to say, but Alice had already beaten her to him, rushing over first.
Both mothers exchanged bewildered glances.
"Any lunch left over?" Makoto asked.
Erina recovered quickly. She'd learned by now not to ask why. She grabbed the leftover dishes from the afternoon. "Yeah, we were about to toss these. Are you hungry? I can make something fresh..."
"Thanks."
Before she could finish, Makoto took the food and disappeared again with the Flying Thunder God Technique.
Watching the faint disappointment on Erina's face, Alice felt an odd, unprecedented sense of satisfaction she couldn't quite explain.
Outside the wooden shack, Makoto set the food down in front of three-year-old Denji.
The boy stared at this stranger he'd never met, about to ask something, but the smell hit him and every thought evaporated. He didn't even reach for the chopsticks. Both tiny hands plunged straight into the food, shoveling it into his mouth.
"Mmph... mwaaah! It's so good!"
It wasn't an exaggeration. This was the best thing Denji had eaten in his entire life.
A strange, pig-like snorting sound came from Denji's nose.
Makoto's eyes rolled to the back of his head. He knew, intellectually, that food made by people from the Food Wars universe hit like an aphrodisiac, but watching a three-year-old make those faces was just disturbing to look at.
A few minutes later, Denji's belly was visibly distended, looking ready to burst. Makoto frowned.
Then Denji lurched forward and threw up.
But the boy wasn't done. He reached toward the vomit, about to scoop it back into his mouth.
Makoto kicked the plate away. "What are you doing?"
Tears welled in Denji's eyes. "I... I didn't wanna waste it."
"You already can't keep it down and you're still eating?"
The boy's head drooped lower. "I... I don't know when I'll get to eat again."
Makoto went quiet. After a few seconds, he said, "Stop eating grass and garbage from now on. I'll bring you food."
Denji's whole face lit up like a sunrise.
"M-Mister, are you a god?"
A faint smile crossed Makoto's face before he vanished.
"He is! He's really a god! I met a real god!" Denji jumped up and down, shouting at the empty air. The man had given him the most incredible food he'd ever tasted and could teleport. What else could he be?
A week passed.
The construction crew Sōe had hired finished the group's new home: a two-story wooden villa.
Everyone was thrilled. No more sleeping bags.
Erina, though, couldn't stop blushing. She and Makoto had agreed: once the house was built, they would finally be together. He was looking forward to it too. A week of waiting had tested his patience.
"Let's cook something special tonight to celebrate!" Leonora said excitedly.
"We should get some drinks! This is a big deal." Alice raised her hand, cheering.
"We're underage!" Erina protested.
Alice cupped a hand over her mouth and teased, "Then don't drink, Erina. You're still a little kid, after all."
"Who... who's a kid?! I'll drink!"
Erina bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.
Behind her hand, Alice's lips curled. Gotcha. That's exactly what I needed you to say.
That evening, the newly built villa glowed with light. The whole Nakiri family was in high spirits, releasing the tension that had built since arriving in this world.
"Come on, come on, Sir Makoto! Keep going!" Sōe reeked of alcohol, tongue lolling as he spoke.
A few drinks in, he'd insisted on challenging Makoto to a drinking game of rock-paper-scissors. The stakes kept climbing. He kept losing.
"Uncle, stop! Do you want to end up homeless when we get back to reality?" Erina, her cheeks pink from a few sips of her own, called out.
Makoto had agreed to Sōe's challenges, but each round came with a wager. So far, Sōe had lost his International Culinary Research Institute in Northern Europe, his molecular cuisine patents, and fifty percent of his inheritance rights to his father Senzaemon Nakiri's estate. He'd bet everything he had to bet.
"Shut it! Adults are talking. Kids stay out of it."
Sōe's face was flushed, clearly past the point of reason.
"So what've you got left to wager?" Makoto grinned.
He didn't even need the Sharingan's predictive abilities for this. Sōe's body language alone telegraphed every throw.
The man racked his nearly alcohol-poisoned brain, desperate for something, anything left to bet. He came up empty. Then his gaze drifted to the other table, where his wife sat watching TV with her sister-in-law.
"I bet Leonora!"
Both Mana Nakiri and Leonora sobered up instantly.
Do you have any fucking idea what you're saying?
"Deal." Makoto smiled.
"No! Absolutely not!"
Everyone rushed to intervene.
But the two had already thrown.
Rock, paper, scissors, shoot.
Sōe lost. Again.
The living room was a battlefield of passed-out bodies. Makoto carried Erina to her room, then examined the IOU Sōe had stamped with his thumbprint. After a moment's thought, he tucked it into his inventory.
Looking at Erina splayed across the bed, he reached over, parted her lips, and pinched that fabled God's Tongue between his fingers, giving it a thorough teasing.
"And she wanted to do it tonight. Unbelievable."
A figure appeared in the doorway and sat down beside him, bumping Erina aside with her hip.
Alice.
Makoto glanced over. "Need something?"
He'd noticed all evening. She'd been pouring drinks for Erina and Leonora and the others while barely touching her own glass.
"I never properly thanked you for saving me from that devil."
Alice leaned closer as she spoke, and by the time she finished, she was resting against him entirely.
The warmth of her body was unmistakable. Makoto didn't hesitate. One arm curled around her shoulder.
The other hand tilted her chin up. Just before their lips met, he murmured, "European girls always this forward?"
Alice's smile was radiant. "Depends on who it is."
They kissed.
What surprised him was that Alice was the more aggressive one. She hooked an arm around the back of his neck, pressing herself into him.
Makoto lifted her the same way he had a week ago, ready to carry her to her room.
"Right here," Alice said. Her voice left no room for argument.