Chapter Text
Makima awoke with a start. She stared at a ceiling sheet-metal ceiling, willing her heart to stop beating so fast. She didn't even know why the odd dream had left her feeling so strange - all she remembered was a door and an alleyway.
She sat up on her shitty mattress with a groan, feeling the scar on her side pull with the motion. It never did quite feel like it had healed right. Weak sunlight streamed into her hut, and the birds chirped outside as the young woman took a deep breath.
"Alright… time to work," she sighed, rubbing at her eye. A high-pitched yip agreed with her, and Makima turned to smile at her one and only friend in the whole world - a tiny, orange Devil.
"Morning, Pochita." She ran her fingers down her back, and she wiggled happily, wagging her rip-cord tail. The tiny chainsaw poking out of her face gave away her origin - The Chainsaw Devil.
Devils were apparently formed by humanity's fears, or something along those lines. At least, that's what Makima had been told before, when she'd asked where they came from. She wondered if Pochita's size and friendliness meant people weren't all that scared of Chainsaws?
I suppose it makes sense, she thought, scratching her belly as she rolled over. The pup-sized devil's back leg started kicking with an adorable whine as Makima got her favorite spot. A screwdriver or a drill could be scary too, but they're just tools at the end of the day, like a chainsaw.
Makima shook the odd thoughts from her head as she stood up. The scar pulled again, and the young woman winced, rubbing at it. She was on her feet, though, and that was good. The day had begun. Makima grabbed her ancient, moth-eaten jacket off of the table and slipped into it. It was not comfortable, but it covered her up and that was all she could reasonably ask for.
"Come on - we're burning daylight."
As they walked along the long, winding country road, Makima did some math. It was a nice day, cool, but not too cool. Breezy, was more like it. Her ragged coat fluttered gently, and a few steps behind her, Pochita pattered along happily, listening to her talk aloud. That always helped the redhead get her brain in order for the day.
"Cutting trees makes us 60,000 yen a month… my kidney was one-point-two million, right, Pochita?"
She barked in agreement. The scar twinged a little - as if it had a mind of its own and didn't like being thought of. It made bending over tough sometimes, especially when she was sore after a long day of work.
"My eye was 300,000," she rattled off, hands in her pockets and remaining eye on the road, watching for pot-holes or stray rocks she might trip over. "Sold some of my eggs, but I didn't even get a 100 'kay for 10 of them…"
Makima winced at the memory, rubbing her belly. The ache of that particular procedure had left her feeling dirty, in a way she didn't really understand too well. It didn't help that the back-alley doc she'd been taken to for it had leered at her the whole time, but she was pretty sure he hadn't done anything to her while she'd been under. She was still a virgin, as far as she knew; she would have felt it if that had changed, right?
"…and I still owe over thirty-eight million," she sighed. The number was crushingly large. It hurt too much to think about it, like trying to ponder how many people lived in the nearby city. She didn't think she'd be able to pay it off with the money she was making in ten years. If she even had that much time left… she was basically signing her years as a child and teenager away already, was she going to lose her early twenties too? Assuming she'd live that long, at this rate, it was unavoidable…
Still. There were ways to make money. Ways to live another day. Makima raised her eyes as determination flooded her slender figure, before she stooped to pick up Pochita. She'd make the most of what she had right here, right now.
"There's one here, right?" A growl this time, and Makima nodded, sneaking about with a stooped body. She could already hear whatever it was wandering around.
A clean devil kill could rack up nearly 300k, she thought, pulling the cord with a satisfying vroom! Pochita panted and barked, her chainsaw extending further from her face as her whole tiny body vibrated. And there's nothing more cost effective than being a butcher.
Pochita snarled with excitement, and her saw started spinning. Makima let a confident smirk split her face as she charged around the corner towards whatever poor devil had taken up residence here.
Splat.
Makima grunted, gently wrestling the saw out of the purple flesh, splashing sticky blood every way. She wiped her forehead with a sigh, trying not to smear any more of it on her face - it stank like rotten fruit. Which, granted, wasn't the worst thing the girl had ever smelt, but the sickly sweetness of it reminded her of the infection that nearly claimed her life after her kidney had been removed.
Out loud, she called to her boss: "This was definitely the grape devil, sir. Don't leave any of the fruits or it might get back up and multiply for a second round!"
The old man adjusted his trilby, carefully avoiding the puddles of blood and cast-aside gore left by the short-lived battle.
"Mm. Good job, Makima," Oyabun drawled, nice and slow. His eyes trailed the relatively clean kill, looking for unnecessary damages that might've been incurred. "Someone on the black market will certainly pay a heft sum for a fresh devil body like this. How's four hundred thousand sound to you?"
A smile split Makima's face. "That's great!"
Oyabun's lips curled ever so slightly in return - he wasn't done speaking.
"But that's before subtracting your debt payment and interest - down to a 170,000." He started to count on his fingers, one a time." Then there's the finder's fee, admin fee, management cost…"
As he rattled off more fees and theft, Makima's expression started to fall, but she knew better than to argue.
Right… the fees, how could I forget? She thought glumly, hugging Pochita to her chest. Makima slumped, still stood atop the corpse, but it no longer felt triumphant. Her friend let out a quiet whine, watching as the yakuza patriarch counted out a pittance for her and stuck it all in a tiny envelope.
The redhead carefully clambered down, feeling like a cat with a broken leg limping towards rotten food set out for her by the boy that had broken it.
Just seventy-thousand yen left.
Walking through the little town of Ota, Makima's frown was sharp. She was in the city to dumpster dive a little, where she could get away with it in between managing her pitiful payment.
I have the water bill though. And my debts to the doctors and sharks.
She took a deep breath. It was fine.
"Pochita?" Makima turned, looking under her arm at her orange companion. Big blue eyes stared up at her with such adoration that the girl couldn't help but smile.
"How does a slice of bread sound tonight? We need some carbs, don't we buddy?"
"Woof!"
They kept walking through the little city that had rejected her pleas for help at any turn unless they could get something out of her. Makima had managed to avoid spreading her legs - the patriarch had threatened, more than once, to whore her out to light a fire under Makima's ass when she was dangerously close to not meeting quota. She didn't want to find out how true it was - the girl was lucky, but not lucky enough.
Lucky, in that she had managed to somehow convince Oyabun to let her hunt devils for them, even as a little girl.
Unlucky in that she was still doing this. Unlucky in that she had a ticking time bomb in her chest. Unlucky in that her piece of shit father had hung himself instead of selling his own corpse to pay off his debt.
Makima was just lucky to be alive.
Pochita headbutted her ankle, and she jumped with a tiny hiss.
"Ack, cut it out!" Makima scoffed, waggling her finger at Pochita. The dog-devil leapt up, trying to nibble on it with a bark, before giving her a small whine. Amber eyes averted, and the girl sighed, hesitantly playing with a curl of hair she'd let get long.
It was cut shorter, almost boyishly so, so that no one got any ideas. If Makima was ugly enough, no one would so much as look at the dirty orphan. Just another bum on the street, invisible.
"Sorry… I'm stuck in my head again, aren't I buddy?" She apologized, starting to kneel before startling as a car drove up with the window rolled down. Some blonde guy with greasy hair glared at her, before smirking and taking a drag from his cigarette.
"Hey, puppy - 100 yen if you eat this cigarette right now," he offered, holding it out.
Makima stared for a moment, considering it. I hope your car explodes and you burn to death trapped inside it.
"Absolutely!" She grinned, stepping up and snatching it from his hand, before chucking it into her mouth and making an exaggerated gulping noise. The man threw his head back and roared with laughter, as the back window cracked a little. The familiar voice of Oyabun growled from the backseat of the car.
"We'll be in touch, brat. Try to skip town and we'll show you to a brothel."
The driver flicked a small coin her way, still chortling to himself. Makima yelped and fumbled to catch it, juggling it for a moment before it was secure in her palm. She watched them go with a sour look, before hocking the cigarette onto the ground and wiping her mouth.
And I'm supposed to be the gullible one.
The girl smirked down at her devil dog, trying and failing to show off by rolling the coin across her fingers.
"Guess who just gave us dinner for the weekend, Pochitaaaa~??"
It was raining outside.
Makima didn't like the rain. She hated being wet - it gave her a sense of uneasiness, made her uncomfortable, and it took so long to dry off. It wasn't like she had any spare dry clothes to change into either... She also didn't like the chill it brought, or the way water leaked through the roof during a storm, or how it sometimes thundered and scared her and made her feel like a tiny child again. She hated the thunder. It was loud, and shook the shed, and it reminded her of father's roaring voice. It was often that he came home angry after losing money in gambling. Mom used to be there to calm him down, but then she died, and there was nothing left to hold her father back from taking his anger out on her.
"Hey Pochita?" Makima began, watching her companion take a bite of the single loaf of bread they'd procured for dinner. Big, dewy eyes stared up at her as she chewed through the grain. Her ever present companion always perked up to listen when she spoke, she liked that. "Did you know… you're supposed to eat bread cooked? Like, toasted?"
Pochita tilted his head up at her curiously. Makima was staring up at the ceiling, eyeballing a new leak that hadn't been there for the last rainstorm.
"And… and-and with jam too?" She murmured, a little awe in her voice. She'd never had good jam. A few tastes, here and there from old, mostly empty jars tossed out. She was never fortunate enough to find a jar with more than a little residue left in it. The people who threw them out tended to make sure they were scraped clean first, sadly. "That's the normal way to eat it, apparently…"
It had been sweet, even though it was a little rotten. Makima had given Pochita some, and she'd loved it just as much. She wished it had been fresh. A whole jar for the two of them to gorge on. No - ten jars.
"…but, it's too bad normal isn't for us, is it?" Makima sighed, pulling the bread back while Pochita chewed to take a bite of her own, savoring the fluffy grain. "I'll probably bite it before I pay off this debt."
With her mouth full and a sour tone, she kept going, glaring up at the ceiling. "No guys would want me either… but that's mostly my fault."
Makima crossed her other arm over her belly. Making herself look ugly and untouchable was important. She had to stay safe. It wasn't an easy life, and more than once creepy men with grabby hands and lots of money had started reaching, promising a 'better life'. Probably to warm their beds, the creeps. Pochita squirmed up between her thighs, letting out a sad whine at her. Makima's nails dug into orange fur, turning to look out the window, at the water running down the glass.
"Do you think dreams can come true?" Makima mumbled morosely. "I want… a boyfriend. A guy who likes Makima."
She remembers standing in front a grave for a man that didn't deserve it, on a day just like this. Being threatened. Meeting Pochita. Figuring out both of their problems together, in one fell swoop.
"Hire me - I'll kill devils for you."
Makima tightened her grasp around Pochita's belly, hugging the orange pup close. Another hunger pang made her wince, a pained sigh escaping her lips. It was a familiar feeling. Her mind churned.
Being hungry made Makima consider money. Considering money made it hard to fall sleep. Having trouble sleeping reminded her that she was still hungry. It was a vicious cycle. Pochita twisted around, opening an eye to look at the girl. Of course you can sleep, Makima thought. It must be pretty great to have someone else take care of all the hard stuff. But I don't mind. As long as you're with me…
"Pochita," Makima whispered into the devil's fur, hugging their bodies closer. "I've got a dream. A bunch of them.
"We'll share five pieces of toast - for both of us - and every single one will have an inch of jam, and we'll do it every day. All the jam and toppings. And I'll have a- a husband who smiles when he sees me, cause I'm not ugly," Makima continued, cheeks warming at the thought. "He'll hold me, and we'll have seven huskies and three kids, so you can have more friends to play with, Pochita. And-… and we'll have a ten foot mattress that we can all share. All of us, so no one's lonely."
Makima squeezed Pochita tighter, feeling an ache in her chest. She winced, and then her eyes widened as she realized it wasn't just a longing for something more -
Makima lurched into a sitting position and retched. She tried, and failed, to cover her mouth in time before foamy blood sprayed from her lips as her heart felt like it was being cut apart. One hand to her mouth, one hand to her chest, trying to breathe, just stay alive, as her body rebelled. Pochita whined, nudging against her stomach, careful to keep the saw from digging into her skin.
It felt like it took minutes for the pain to pass, but it was only a few moments before she could breathe again.
And that's why I won't ever have time to pay off my debt, and live a normal life - because I'm on a timer, Makima thought, staring at the blood staining her shaking hand. Something wrong with her heart. The same condition that had killed her mother, and left her alone with the old drunk. One last middle finger from the universe, at a little girl who just wanted to be happy.
A knock rang out at the door, the sound repeatedly pounding through the small shack.
Oyabun again, late at night. She closed her eyes. No, a thousand middle fingers.
I just wish I could dream for a little while… is that too much to ask?
Makima blinked, and the trip was over, having passed her by in a haze of bitterness.
They arrived at an old, dilapidated warehouse - there was a huge hole in the ceiling, presumably where it had rusted out and given way to time and its own weight. Faint blue light illuminated the interior through those holes as Oyabun let them in, walking at a steady pace that was easily followed. The dark interior seemed to devour the light, and the night chill was beginning to seep into Makima's body, even through her clothes.
"Ah… sir?" Makima called, taking care not to raise her voice too loud. "Are you sure it's here? I don't see anything…"
She got no answer. Pochita was held tight and at the ready, Makima's hand prepared to tug the ripcord the very instant she saw head or hair of a devil. If one showed up, that is.
"S-Sir? Uhm - I think it might just be us here. Did it leave?" She tried again, eyebrows raised.
Eerie silence answered her after the echoes faded, and she looked around nervously now. She didn't like that she was being ignored… something felt a little off about all this, but she wasn't sure what.
"It could be… hiding?" The redhead offered weakly, staring at the patriarch's back now. The Yakuza man was not normally this quiet. He stepped out of the moonlight, and all she could see was the silhouette as his footsteps slowed to a gentle halt. The hair on the back of Makima's neck raised. Pochita was hugged closer.
"Makima, my girl," the Oyabun started to talk at long last. "You have our gratitude for your years of faithful service."
She blinked. "Yeah, of course."
"You're as loyal and obedient as a dog - and to top it off, you work for cheap treats like one as well."
Makima's face scrunched up a little. That was uncalled for, but I guess he's right-
"I mean - yeah, but-"
"Only problem with dogs is that I can never tolerate the stench."
Makima jerked forwards, gasping. Gurgling.
She looked down slowly, staring at the long, curved blade that had punctured through both Makima and Pochita's bodies. For the second time that night, blood spewed from her lips. A knee pressed into her back, and the sword was wrenched back out, dropping her into a kneeling position. She was dizzy, and the floor spun under her. It hurt so bad.
"The Yakuza may be powerful, but even the ones on top dream of getting bigger and richer."
Something writhed behind the old man as Makima looked up, clutching at the wound. She collapsed to the ground, a terrible weakness suffusing through her.
"So, we took a page out of your book, and struck a deal with a devil…"
His feet lifted off of the ground, as something hoisted the man up. A massive figure began to lurch out of the shadows of the warehouse.
"We wanted to obtain demonic power and see ourselves grow stronger - where as I want to see every devil hunter in existence perish!"
As the Yakuza patriarch spoke, his voice joined with a chorus. Dozens of them, overlapped like a crowd speaking in near-perfect sync. Makima lifted her head, choking and gasping. Blood streamed down her chin, down her neck, staining her shirt. It was… some devil she'd never seen before. A disgusting, grotesque form; a torso with no head or arms, held aloft by huge cords made from intestines with a head on the right side of its chest. The Oyabun hung from one, limp as a doll. A shuffling, shambling crowd of zombies, most of them wielding weapons of some kind, surrounded it, with more pouring out of the shadows every second. Makima recognized some of them - the goons from the family?
She clenched her jaw, pushing herself up onto her knees again. Pochita's labored breathing could be heard over her own.
"I have to tell you, little devil hunter - I've met rocks that were smarter than these louts, such gullible fools! I offered them a shred of my demonic power, and they willingly handed their freedom to me on a silver platter! Little did they know, the power they sought would turn them into zombies, since I'm the zombie devil!"
Yeah, that makes sense, Makima thought, a little deliriously as she managed to get onto her feet. As soon as she did, a large splotch of blood splattered onto the floor beneath her, forming a puddle of red.
That's a lot of blood…
"You really should have chosen an occupation that doesn't butcher my kind, because now, I have to butcher you!"
You really don't have to - oh, that's a lot of knives I'm in trouble.
Turning around, Makima started to hobble off, not bothering to listen to whatever horse-piss the devil had to say. Adrenaline dulled the pain. It made the weakness fade away for just a little while, long enough for her to start - well, not dashing towards the door, she couldn't call it that, but stumbling as fast as she could. Her shoulder hit a… metal, thing, her hand sliding past it and leaving a smear of blood.
I've got you, Pochita, she thought, vision tunneling. They'd only walked for a few minutes, why did she feel like it was so far away? Every step felt like it carried her inches across the twenty-mile gap. The horde sounded close.
Makima retched again, spitting out precious blood. When she looked back up, there zombies in front of her, closing off her path - how did-? No, it doesn't matter.
She twisted, stumbling through the piles of machinery, left behind to rot in another direction.
Where's the - there!
The double doors they'd come in through! The exit! The sight of those doors gave her an extra burst of energy, her breath escaping in ragged gasps.
Makima shoved some metal cabinet over, hoping to slow down her pursuers. She was close. They were gonna make it - they were gonna-!
A cold hand grasped at her coat, making Makima stumble, slowing her down, losing precious momentum.
"Fuck off!" She wheezed, yanking herself free. Cold steel ripped across her back - and it turned into a burning, red-hot wound, sending her tumbling to the ground with the force of the blow.
No no no no no-
Makima's screams echoed through the warehouse as a knife plunged into her back. Dozens of them fell upon the young girl, puncturing her over and over again with a multitude of blades.
I was so close -
Her throat tore as she howled her lungs out, wishing that someone, anyone, would help her.
Why me? I just wanted a normal life.
Pochita struggled beneath her, and Makima shifted as best she could, trying to shield her friend, giving the devil a few more moments of life.
I can't even… be allowed to dream?
The moon shone on a dumpster. Hidden within, tossed aside like rubbish, two bodies rested.
Blood dribbled into one's mouth.
"Pochita… I won't be around forever. I can't… fulfill our contract after that. You'll be all alone again."
Metal rattled.
"You can take my body, okay? You're my only friend. When I die or get killed, wait just long enough for them to bury me… and sneak away with it. Take my body, what they leave behind, and live out those dreams. Keep yourself safe."
A new heart was formed.
"Live out normal for me, okay? B-because I can't. I won't get to see it, so one of us has to."
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"Pochita?"
Her friend smiled. And spoke.
"Just so you know, I've always loved listening to you talk about your dreams, Makima."
Pochita sounded… just like those blurry memories of Mom.
"You died - so let's make a new contract, okay? You take my heart, and show me those dreams. Make them real."
"That's all I ask of you."
"POCHITA!"
Makima screamed, bursting out of the garbage, reaching out for -
Where… did she? I'm alive.
Makima clutched at her naked chest. All she had left on was underwear and shoes, soaked with cold blood. Her heart still beat. Her limbs still worked. Something hung from her sternum.
A rip cord…
"Pochita?" Makima whispered, horrified, unable to believe her eyes. Someone spoke.
The Zombie Devil was still here. It was saying something. Makima didn't hear a word coming from its repulsive mouth as she stepped out of the dumpster. She felt limber, alive. Nothing ached or pulled. She had both eyes. All of her scars seemed to be gone.
The horde of zombified Yakuza began to rush towards her. Her ears rang. A finger touched the ripcord.
These people… they had everything, and still wanted more.
She could see the wound covering their bodies.
Does that make me like them?
Their weapons still dripped her blood.
I was happy. Just me and Pochita. But it wasn't enough, and I wanted more.
She could see their rotten teeth. Makima ground hers.
I guess we all want that better life - I can't blame them.
Rusty, bloody steel flashed, feet away. Her finger hooked through the cord.
It isn't bad to dream of more -
A thousand things flashed though Makima's mind, and she settled on Pochita's happily wagging tail.
"But if you wanna try wake me up from them, you can just fuck off!"
Sparks sprayed from the cord as she ripped it, and then Makima was buried under a horde of flesh. The familiar sensation of metal parting skin returned to her - but this time, it came from the wrong direction.
Bodies and gore exploded from around the girl as she ripped free with a roar of rage and hate, transformed anew.
Chainsaws bisected her arms. Her skull had been replaced with something made of metal and plastic; an angular, jagged face that matched Pochita's fur. Blood sprayed from her in great arcs as the third saw, emerging from her face, revved and spun faster still. Her chest heaved. Her jaw gaped, and Makima screamed, before leaping - and the Zombie Devil, oh how it screamed.
It could hardly be heard over the thrum of saws and the howled laughter - the kind of laugh that only the most cracked could manage.
In moments, the cries of agony were cut off, and she stood atop a pile of gore that had once been a massive devil.
A chuckle emanated from Makima's chest, and it soon turned into full-blown cackling as she threw her head back, laughing at the absurdity of it all -
"What a day!" She cackled, as the unsteady zombie horde began to slowly close in - without their master, they had no direction, nor motive. "You know - I came out here for a job, to kill devils, and I see a whole lot of them around me right now!"
Her hand came back up, thumb hooking into the starter once more. Makima wolfishly licked at her teeth, and dove back into the crowd.
She swung like a mad-woman, laughing like one.
Piece by piece, zombie Yakuza piece of shit by zombie Yakuza piece of shit, one at a time she cut them all down, and relished every second of it.
"With you dead - I won't have any debt! FUCK YOUUUU!"
Someone new was speaking - a soft, sure voice.
Makima craned her head around. Everything was sore. Her arms were heavy - the saws felt like they weighed as much as a tree each. People were… walking into the warehouse. Towards her. It was day outside? Sunlight streamed in behind them. Nice-sounding shoes clicked across the dirty concrete, and Makima lifted her head a little. There was a man in front of her. Tall. Blonde. Stubble lined his chin. He had a nice face.
He spoke.
"You're a strange-smelling thing, aren't you? Not quite human, and not quite devil, how interesting…" He hummed, tilting his head. Yellow eyes, with red rings, examined Makima's blood-drenched body. A smirk crossed his lips, his hands finding their way into his pockets. "Did you do all this?"
Makima's head dipped, and she realized something: She was really tired.
She started to slump forwards, managing to get out a few words: "Please… catch me…"
The man moved without hesitation, doing just that. Arms curled around Makima's back as he pulled her into a hug. Everything felt melty.
Makima blinked up at the ceiling, seeing through her eyes once more. Real eyes. Eyes, plural. She looked down, just a little, to see the man's face as he held her up.
"So, you're human after all."
There were two men standing behind him. One spoke up.
"Was she possessed by a devil?"
"Doesn't look like it - she seems human as the day she was born," the man clarified, lowering Makima to the floor. Looks like I'm more out of it than I thought… I'm daydreaming hot guys. Oh shit, I think I'm hallucinating…
The hands her back rested on felt real enough, though.
"I'm with Public Safety. I came here originally to kill the Zombie Devil; we'd gotten a tip that it was in the area, and tracked it to this warehouse."
A hand cradled the back of Makima's neck, and she stared up at the beautiful man in confusion. She wanted to sleep. If this was a dream, dreaming Makima had good taste, because, mmm.
He kept talking. She could sort of understand what he was talking about.
"Since it looks like you took care of that little problem for me, I guess I get to be nice today and give you a choice. I either kill you here, treating you as a devil… or I take you with me as a human."
His eyes were super cool.
"If it helps, I do feed my pets well; only the finest foods," he smiled. Makima thought about it, craning her head to look at the aftermath of putting what must have been hundreds of zombies through her… woodchipper-ness, and then back up at the Public Safety Devil Hunter dude. She didn't really wanna end up like them…
"Fuh… food?" She asked, trying to stay awake. Her voice was hoarse and throat sore from what must have been several hours of nonstop screeching at zombies. "I can - have breakfast?"
"I don't see why not." The Devil Hunter looked up at the ceiling, scratching his stubbly jaw thoughtfully.
"How does… tea, and buttered toast with jam sound? Perhaps a donut, some fruits and yogurt, too."
Makima's jaw would have hit the floor if she were upright.
"That sounds great," she breathed.