That evening, Makoto Nishikado and Yu Ishigami were formally inducted into Public Safety under Makima's sponsorship, joining the ranks of Public Safety Special Division 4.
The three of them walked the corridor leading to Division 4's headquarters after leaving the Commissioner's office. Ishigami kept pace at Makoto's side, irritation etched across his brow. "Boss, why are we taking orders from that woman? She's got no business being your superior."
He didn't bother lowering his voice. Makima was walking right in front of them.
She tilted her head slightly at the remark but never broke stride. That absolute, unquestioning loyalty Ishigami held for Makoto continued to intrigue her.
Makoto chuckled and waved it off. Small stuff.
A few moments later, Makima led them into her office. Anticipating Ishigami's displeasure, she made a point of gesturing Makoto toward the couch. Once both men were seated, she propped her chin on one hand, fingertips tapping a quiet rhythm on the desk.
"Per Public Safety regulations, all personnel must operate in pairs during field assignments. Since you two already know each other, why not partner up?"
"Works for me," Ishigami said before the question had fully landed.
Makoto had no objections either.
Makima continued, a faint note of amusement threading through her voice. "I'd initially assumed the incident involving Mr. Kudo's son was a straightforward sexual assault case. I didn't expect it to involve a Devil. Which, of course, places it squarely within our jurisdiction."
Her gaze shifted to Makoto, probing. "You're acquainted with the Kudo family, aren't you, Makoto? Interested in taking the case?"
Strictly speaking, Public Safety Special Division 4 was a frontline combat unit meant to engage Devils directly. A civilian investigation like this should have fallen to another department. But given the existing connection, Makima figured the assignment might appeal to him.
"Sure." The corner of Makoto's mouth curled higher. "I'm curious what kind of Devil is that desperate for a meal."
With the assignment settled, Makoto and Ishigami headed back to the employee housing Public Safety had arranged for them. "Employee housing" was generous, though.
The building was closer to a luxury singles' apartment complex. Devil hunting was the kind of work where you clocked in with your head on the chopping block. If the perks didn't match the risk, nobody would sign up.
Standard policy called for two or three employees sharing a room, but Makima had pulled strings. Makoto and Ishigami each got their own unit.
Inside the elevator, Ishigami glanced over. "Boss, want me to come by and clean for you?"
"I'll manage." Makoto smiled. "Thanks, though."
The elevator doors slid open, and several people stepped in.
The entire Kudo family. All three of them.
Nothing surprising about that. Yusaku Kudo was on Public Safety's payroll now.
Makoto's gaze landed on Shinichi Kudo's face, still radiating that mixture of sullen misery and stubborn defiance, glaring at him from his wheelchair. A laugh escaped before he could stop it.
"Watch your attitude, Kudo Shin-ecchi." Ishigami stepped forward, producing a stack of freshly printed photographs from his bag. The resolution wasn't perfect, but it was more than enough to make out the contents. "Unless you want Ran Mouri seeing these, I suggest you show some respect."
"You...!" Shinichi trembled with rage, nearly launching himself out of the wheelchair.
The elevator chimed. The doors closed.
Makoto and Ishigami were already inside. The Kudo family remained in the hallway, frozen, unwilling to step in. Makoto flashed them a grin. "Not coming?"
With Makoto extending the invitation directly, refusing wasn't an option. The three of them filed in with visible reluctance.
The elevator rose. The enclosed space hummed with tension.
Makoto turned to Shinichi beside him, still smiling. "Your case falls under my investigation now. Got any leads? Did you see the attacker's face?"
Every fiber of Shinichi's being screamed against speaking to this man, but Makoto was the lead investigator. He had no choice.
"Ask my father," he ground out through clenched teeth.
The doors opened on the Kudo family's floor. As the three of them filed out, Makoto called after them with a pleasant wave. "I'm not really interested in talking to men. Have Mrs. Yukiko come speak with me instead."
He hit the close button. The doors slid shut, and he and Ishigami continued upward.
Back in his private unit, Makoto swept the room methodically, checking every corner for hidden cameras or listening devices. Satisfied, he spoke to the empty room.
"Come on out, Pochita."
The skin along his shoulder began to ripple. The surface layer peeled away like a cicada's shell, his form shifting subtly until a small, furry shape separated from his body. Pochita landed on the coffee table with a light hop, tail wagging, and let out two excited yips.
"From now on, we stay merged whenever we leave this room. Can't let that woman catch on." Makoto reached out and gave Pochita's round head an affectionate pat.
"Woof woof!" Two barks of confirmation.
The doorbell rang.
Makoto opened the door to find exactly who he expected. Yukiko Kudo.
"I came to talk to you about Shinichi's..." The rest of the sentence vanished as he pulled her inside. Warm lips found hers, and her breath was gone.
"W-wait, I came here to discuss the case." She squirmed, her voice pitched with alarm.
"After."
Yukiko could have cried.
Shinichi's condition had improved dramatically. He no longer needed constant hospital visits, and the financial pressure on the family had eased considerably. By all logic, she had no reason to keep accepting this kind of "compensation" from Makoto.
Yet every time his invitation came, she said yes.
Two hours later, hastily showered and scrambling into her clothes, Yukiko blurted, "I need to go. Yusaku and Shinichi will get suspicious."
Makoto bit back a grin. That deduction-obsessed idiot was oblivious to most things outside a crime scene, so no shock there. But Yusaku Kudo? The man wasn't foolish.
He'd been with Public Safety for years. Did he really not know his wife's mastery of disguise had become an open secret in certain circles? And if so, where exactly did he think her income came from?
Connect the dots, and the picture was hard to ignore. Maybe Yusaku simply chose not to look.
Then again, the fathers of anime protagonists all seemed to share that talent for suffering in silence. Yusaku Kudo. Monkey D. Dragon. Cut from the same stoic cloth.
"Makoto, are you going to investigate that boy's case?" Pochita wandered out from the adjoining room.
Hearing Pochita speak didn't faze him. They'd been together for close to ten years. Most of the time, Pochita communicated in barks. They knew each other well enough that a look said everything. But every now and then, he'd use human words.
Makoto gave a slight nod, and Pochita pressed on. "If we merge, I can use my nose. It's sharp. One sniff of the scent that Devil left on Shinichi and we'd track it down in no time..."
"Absolutely not!" Makoto cut him off on the spot.
He would rather die than sniff that.
Pochita didn't push it. He flopped onto his back, legs in the air, and shot Makoto a pointed look.
The message was crystal clear. Hey. Food. Now.
Despite Yukiko's earlier protests, Makoto had insisted that Public Safety release the case details to the press. He argued that Tokyo needed to know a deviant Devil was on the loose. Public awareness meant public safety.
The Kudo family suspected his real motive was making the Shinichi's life hell.
But they couldn't find a valid reason to oppose it. And within Public Safety, Makoto's standing far outweighed the Kudo family's. The higher-ups sided with him without hesitation.
And so the story hit the airwaves. A twenty-five-year-old unemployed man named Shinichi Kudo, confined to a wheelchair after losing both legs, had been sexually assaulted by a mysterious Devil. Tokyo's news stations ran it on every broadcast.
The sheer novelty of "assaulted by a Devil" proved irresistible. Networks from other countries picked it up too.
When the Mouri family, all the way in France, caught the broadcast, they sat in stunned silence.
"That kid just can't catch a break, huh?" Kogoro Mouri shook his head.
Ran Mouri let out a long, sympathetic sigh.
"Don't even think about it." Eri Kisaki's gaze cut toward her daughter, cold and final. "You are never to have anything to do with him. Not now, not when we return to the real world. Ever."
Under the full weight of her mother's stare, Ran lowered her head. She'd grown to look more like Eri with each passing year. She didn't dare say another word.
Kogoro opened his mouth, but one look from Eri shut it again. "Finish your food and get out."
Even here, in another world entirely, those two were still separated. Kogoro didn't dare protest. His living expenses came from Eri. His skills, such as they were, couldn't earn him a meal in this world.
Yusaku Kudo's deductive abilities dwarfed his own, and even Yusaku only pulled a base salary at Public Safety. Kogoro didn't stand a chance. But his pride wouldn't let him take odd jobs, so he survived on handouts from his estranged wife.
Beyond airing the lil detective's humiliation, Makoto also issued an order under Public Safety's authority: a city-wide curfew. No civilian was to be outdoors after dark until the Devil was apprehended.
A month slipped by. The Devil never resurfaced.
Makima's office. She sat with both elbows on her desk, fingers interlaced beneath her chin, studying Makoto across from her. "What's wrong, Makoto? Out of options?"
Ishigami stood between them, as always.
"I've got an option." Makoto leaned back in his chair. "I'd just rather not use it."
To anyone else, that would have sounded like an excuse.
It wasn't. If he transformed and caught a whiff of the sample taken from Shinichi, he could lock onto the Devil immediately.
But he would sooner die.
"That's fine." Makima gave a small nod. "Someone else has volunteered to take over the case."
Makoto's eyebrow rose.
The office door swung open. A wheelchair rolled through. Shinichi Kudo, looking no better after a month away.
Makima made the introduction as Makoto watched with mild surprise. "Starting today, Kudo will be joining Public Safety as an intern investigative consultant. He's also expressed a strong desire to take over your case."
"Oh, wow." Makoto slathered on an exaggerated expression of amazement, turning to the grim-faced young man in the wheelchair. "And how exactly does our intern consultant plan to crack this one?"
This was the nineties. No witnesses had come forward. Japan didn't have the kind of surveillance network that blanketed modern cities. And the perpetrator was a Devil. Without some kind of supernatural ability, this case was destined to go cold.
Shinichi's jaw tightened. "I'll be the bait."
He'd heard his father mention a case from Inspector Megure's youth. A hit-and-run targeting high school girls. A woman had disguised herself as a student to lure the culprit out. She later became Megure's wife.
The same principle applied here. With Makoto's curfew emptying Tokyo's streets after dark, the Devil had to be starving by now. If Shinichi put himself out there as a target, the creature might come crawling out.
"That only works," Makoto said, "if you can actually catch it."
Makima stepped in, her tone smooth. "I've assigned one of our Devil Hunters to assist Kudo. You're welcome to join as well, if you'd like, Makoto."
"Pass."
He'd lost interest.
Then something else crossed his mind, and his expression shifted. He looked at Makima with an easy smile. "Come to think of it, we've been together about a month now, haven't we? Never even been on a proper date. Free tomorrow?"
Between his nightly... debriefings with Yukiko, he'd forgotten he had a new girlfriend.
Shinichi stared, dumbfounded.
Unbelievable. Half your women are overseas lying low, and you're already lining up the next one?
Shinichi knew that Ran Mouri had likely been spared Makoto's attention so far, but the parade of women around this man never stopped, and every single one of them was exceptional. As a straight man with functioning eyes, Shinichi couldn't help the bitterness that clawed at him. Nobody wanted to watch their enemy living his best life.
"Hmm..." Makima pressed one finger to her lower lip, brow creasing in brief thought. "Alright. I haven't used this month's leave yet."
"Great." Makoto nodded, then let the smile sharpen. "Oh, but if you're planning on going home after, you might as well head there now."
"Hm?"
The meaning sailed clean over Makima's head. She'd absorbed an enormous amount of human knowledge in this world, but it was still the nineties. A thirty-years-in-the-future innuendo from an interdimensional traveler wasn't in her vocabulary.
"He's saying he wants to sleep with you," Shinichi muttered, unable to help himself.
Makima's brow stayed furrowed for a long moment before the understanding clicked. "Oh. You mean mating? Alright, let's try it. I haven't done that before."
Shinichi felt his soul leave his body.
No... lady, why would you just agree to that?!
In his mind, this woman, someone his own father treated with extreme caution, should have slapped Makoto across the face and dumped him on the spot.
Makoto flashed Makima an "OK" sign and rose to leave. At the door, he paused, turning back. "You like cheese flavor?"
"Hm?" Confusion again.
"Never mind. I'll pick what I like." He waved over his shoulder and strode out.
Makima stood there, head tilted, still puzzling over what "cheese flavor" could possibly mean.
WHAM.
Ishigami's foot connected with Shinichi's shoulder, launching him out of the wheelchair and onto the floor in a graceless sprawl.
Makima observed the scene without a flicker of expression.
"Run your mouth again and it'll be worse." Ishigami dropped the threat and turned to leave. He made it two steps past the door before the anger surged back.
No. That was too easy on him.
He doubled back, straightening up with exaggerated courtesy as he addressed Makima. "Ms. Makima, I don't think one Devil Hunter is enough for adequate protection. I'd like to volunteer for the operation as well. To assist Kudo."
"Oh?" A small nod. "If you have the time, I'll submit the request."
Shinichi, still hauling himself off the floor, gaped in disbelief.
He felt like a hen watching a weasel offer to guard the coop. Volunteering to 'help' was nothing but an excuse to torment him further.