Obsession

As the plane soared through the cloudy skies, Haruto sighed, turning to Makima who sat beside him, her expression as impassive as ever.

"I still can't believe you got an offer to join the elite too," he said, his tone a mix of disbelief and admiration.

Makima shrugged, her eyes fixed on the in-flight magazine in her hands. "I didn't think it was a big deal," she said, her voice nonchalant.

Haruto's brow furrowed, a hint of annoyance creeping into his voice. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I was worried sick about leaving you behind."

Makima glanced at him, her expression unchanging. "Why didn't you ask?" she countered, her tone even.

Haruto sighed, shaking his head. Sometimes, Makima's stoicism could be frustrating. But he knew, deep down, that it was just her way. She didn't mean any harm.

The plane descended, touching down on the runway of Zurich Airport. As they stepped out of the aircraft, Haruto shivered, his teeth chattering in the frigid air.

"Damn, it's cold as hell here," he muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

Makima, seemingly unfazed by the chill, glanced at him. "It's normal for this climate, especially in winter," she said, her voice matter-of-fact.

Haruto grimaced, his breath fogging in the air. "Why didn't I make a contract with the Fire Demon?" he grumbled, only half-joking.

As they made their way through the airport, a man with a mustache and a suit caught Haruto's eye. He was holding a sign that read "Makima and Haruto". Must be our chauffeur, Haruto thought.

They approached the man, who introduced himself and informed them that he would be driving them to the headquarters. As they walked towards the car, Haruto couldn't help but marvel at the scenery around them.

The Swiss landscape was breathtaking, even in the depths of winter. Snow-capped mountains loomed in the distance, their peaks piercing the grey sky. The city itself was a picture of old-world charm, with its quaint buildings and cobblestone streets.

As they drove through the winding roads, Haruto pressed his face against the window, drinking in the sights. Despite the cold, he could feel a sense of excitement building in his chest. This was it, he thought. The beginning of a new chapter, a new adventure.

He glanced at Makima, who sat beside him, her eyes fixed on the passing scenery. He couldn't help but smile. No matter what challenges lay ahead, he knew that with Makima by his side, he could face anything.

Even the elite.

The car wound its way through the city, the buildings growing fewer and farther between as they approached the outskirts. Finally, they turned onto a private road, the entrance marked by a large, imposing gate.

As they passed through the gate, Haruto's eyes widened. The headquarters of the elite Devil Hunters was a sight to behold - a sprawling complex of modern buildings, all sleek lines and gleaming glass.

The car came to a stop in front of the main building, and Haruto and Makima stepped out, their breaths fogging in the crisp air. As they made their way towards the entrance, Haruto couldn't help but feel a sense of awe wash over him.

This was it, he thought. The beginning of a new chapter, a new adventure. And with Makima by his side, he knew that he was ready for whatever lay ahead.

Ready to face the elite, and prove himself once and for all.

As they stepped through the doorway, Haruto couldn't help but marvel at the grandeur of the building's interior. High ceilings, sleek modern furnishings, and state-of-the-art technology surrounded them at every turn. He turned to the chauffeur, his eyes wide with wonder.

"Is this the headquarters of the elite Devil Hunters?" he asked, his voice filled with awe.

The chauffeur shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "No, this is the Swiss Devil Hunter headquarters," he explained, his voice calm. "But the elite team sometimes uses these facilities as well."

They stepped into an elevator, and Haruto watched as the chauffeur pressed a button, sending them descending into the depths of the building. He turned to Makima, his brow furrowed in thought.

"I'm surprised they have even more advanced facilities than Japan," he mused, his voice curious.

The chauffeur chuckled, a hint of disdain in his voice. "The Japanese are very corrupt," he said, his tone matter-of-fact. "They don't invest in their Devil Hunters like they should."

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a long hallway decorated with a surprisingly homey touch. Warm lighting, plush carpets, and tasteful artwork lined the walls, creating an atmosphere that was both welcoming and professional.

They came to a stop in front of a large, ornate door, and the chauffeur turned to face them, his expression serious. "Here we are," he said, his voice solemn. "The entire elite team is waiting to receive you."

Makima's eyebrows raised, a flicker of surprise passing over her usually stoic features. "The entire team?" she asked, her voice curious.

The chauffeur nodded, a hint of pride in his voice. "There are only four members, not counting you two," he explained. "Only the best of the best make it into the elite squad."

Haruto swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew his brother Hayato was part of the team, but who were the others? What kind of Devil Hunters had made the cut?

As they stepped through the door, Haruto's questions were immediately answered. The room was large and open, with a variety of seating areas and entertainment options scattered throughout. On one couch, a blonde man was engrossed in a Super Nintendo game, his fingers flying over the controller as he shouted and cursed at the screen.

At a nearby table, two men sat engrossed in conversation. One had jet-black hair and piercing blue eyes, his features sharp and angular. The other was pale and slender, with long, dark hair that fell in waves around his shoulders.

And there, on another couch, sat Hayato, looking as bored and disinterested as ever. He didn't even glance up as they entered, his attention focused on the book in his hands.

The chauffeur cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. "Everyone, I'd like to introduce you to your new teammates," he said, his voice ringing with authority. "Haruto Yoshida, brother of Hayato, and Makima. Both hail from Japan."

At the mention of his name, Hayato finally looked up, his expression unreadable as his gaze met Haruto's. For a moment, the two brothers stared at each other, a lifetime of unspoken words and unresolved tension hanging in the air between them.

Then, the pale man at the table spoke, his voice heavily accented. "I am Lunin," he said, his tone formal. "I come from the Soviet Union."

His companion, the black-haired man, nodded in greeting. "Müller," he said, his voice crisp and efficient. "From Germany."

The blonde man, still clutching his controller, finally tore his gaze away from the screen. "Johnny," he said, his voice booming with American bravado. "From the good ol' US of A."

Makima smiled, her expression polite but distant. "A pleasure to meet you all," she said, her voice calm and even.

Haruto couldn't help but marvel at how young they all looked. Despite their elite status, none of them could have been much older than he was. And yet, there was a hardness to their eyes, a sense of experience and skill that belied their youthful appearances.

Johnny, the American, stood up as soon as he laid eyes on Makima. He sauntered over to her, a cocky grin on his face. "Well, aren't you a pretty little thing," he drawled, his voice dripping with sleazy charm. "Why don't you come and have some fun with me?"

Haruto immediately stepped between them, his expression stern. "Can I help you with something?" he asked, his voice cold.

Johnny laughed, a harsh, grating sound. "Don't tell me she's your girlfriend," he said, his tone mocking.

Haruto's jaw clenched, his eyes narrowing. "And what if she is?" he challenged, his voice low and dangerous.

Johnny threw his head back, his laughter growing louder. "Honey, don't waste your time with this boy," he said, his eyes raking over Makima's form. "Come with a real man and I'll show you a good time."

Haruto's hand dipped into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out a small, leather-bound Bible. Johnny's eyes widened, a flicker of surprise passing over his features.

"So, you've got a contract with a Biblical demon, huh?" he said, his voice intrigued. "Interesting."

From his spot on the couch, Hayato spoke up, his voice bored and disinterested. "Leave it, Johnny," he said, his eyes never leaving his book. "His demon is powerful. I don't want any messes."

Johnny whirled on him, his face twisting with anger. "Who the hell do you think you are, giving me orders?" he snarled. "You damn chink."

Hayato sighed, finally looking up from his book. "I'm Japanese," he said, his voice flat.

Johnny waved a dismissive hand. "Same difference," he said, his voice filled with disdain.

From his spot at the table, Lunin stood up, his expression placating. "Come now, comrades," he said, his heavy Russian accent turning the words into a gentle plea. "Let us put this aside and have a drink, da? I have vodka."

Makima, who had been watching the exchange with an amused smile, finally spoke up. "This feels like a party of stereotypes," she said, her voice dry.

The chauffeur, who had been standing in the doorway, burst into laughter, the sound echoing through the room. Everyone turned to look at him, their expressions ranging from annoyance to confusion.

"I'm sorry," he said, wiping a tear from his eye. "It's just... you're all so young, and yet you're the best Devil Hunters in the world. It's hard to believe, sometimes."

Hayato glanced up from his book, his eyes fixed on the chauffeur. "So," he said, his voice flat and disinterested, "what's the mission?"

Haruto turned to his brother, confusion etched on his features. "Why are you asking him?" he questioned, his brow furrowed.

Hayato sighed, a hint of exasperation in his voice. "Because he's the head of operations," he explained, his tone suggesting that this should have been obvious. "Barella, from Italy."

The chauffeur, or rather, Barella, burst into laughter, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You probably thought I was just a humble chauffeur, didn't you?" he said, his voice filled with mirth.

Haruto felt his cheeks burn with embarrassment, his gaze dropping to the floor. Makima, ever the voice of reason, spoke up, her tone gentle but firm.

"Haruto," she said, her eyes fixed on her partner, "you shouldn't assume things about people."

Haruto nodded, his voice meek. "Yes, ma'am," he said, his tone apologetic.

Barella, still chuckling, began to pace the room, his hands clasped behind his back. "Well, the main reason I recruited Miss Makima and Haruto is for our next mission," he said, his voice growing serious. "As you all know, we're an autonomous organization, not tied to any government. It's our duty to stop threats, no matter where they come from."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over the room. "One of those threats is Santa Claus."

Haruto felt his throat go dry, memories of his encounter with the notorious assassin flooding his mind. He remembered Santa's words, the way he had looked at Haruto like he was a prize to be won, a puppet to be controlled.

Barella continued, his voice grave. "As you all know, Santa Claus is one of the most dangerous assassins in the world. There are even rumors that he works hand in hand with some governments."

He turned to Haruto, his expression serious. "Haruto, I read the report about how you easily defeated his puppets. I hope we can count on your help with this mission."

Johnny, who had been listening with a bored expression, perked up at this. "So, where do we start looking?" he asked, his voice eager.

Barella smiled, a hint of excitement in his eyes. "There are rumors that he's currently in Finland," he said, his voice confident. "We'll start our investigation there."

Müller, who had been silent until now, spoke up, his voice skeptical. "If the rookie could defeat his puppets so easily, why do we all need to go?" he asked, his tone slightly mocking. "Can't we just send Hayato?"

Hayato, still engrossed in his book, spoke without looking up. "I'm not your servant," he said, his voice flat.

Müller laughed, the sound harsh and grating. "Of course not," he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "The great Hayato Yoshida is too good for grunt work."

Barella, sensing the tension in the room, held up a hand, his expression placating. "Santa Claus is not only powerful but also cunning," he said, his voice serious. "Haruto was able to defeat him because he didn't expect the presence of a demon as strong as the Demon of Final Judgment."

Lunin, who had been quietly sipping his vodka, spoke up, his voice curious. "This Demon of Final Judgment," he said, his accent thick, "what exactly can it do?"

Haruto felt all eyes turn to him, and he swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. "It's a powerful demon," he said, his voice slightly shaky. "It can summon chains to bind its enemies and drag them to Hell for eternal punishment."

Johnny let out a low whistle, his eyes wide. "Damn," he said, his voice filled with grudging respect. "That's some serious firepower."

Makima, who had been listening intently, spoke up, her voice calm and measured. "But even with Haruto's demon, we can't underestimate Santa Claus," she said, her eyes serious. "He's evaded capture for years. There must be a reason for that."

Barella nodded, his expression grim. "Exactly," he said, his voice heavy. "Which is why we need to work together on this. Each of you brings a unique set of skills and abilities to the table. If we combine our strengths, we have a chance of finally bringing Santa Claus to justice."

He turned to each of them in turn, his gaze intense. "Hayato, your strategic mind and combat prowess are second to none. Müller, your expertise in weapons and tactics will be invaluable. Lunin, your knowledge of the criminal underworld and connections in Eastern Europe could provide crucial intel. Johnny, your skills in infiltration and espionage are unmatched. And Makima and Haruto, your raw power and unique abilities round out this team perfectly."

Haruto felt a swell of pride in his chest at Barella's words. He glanced at Makima, who met his gaze with a small, encouraging smile.

Barella held up his hands, a small smile on his face. "We won't be leaving for a couple of days," he said, his voice calm. "Take this time to get to know each other better, to bond as a team."

He gestured towards a hallway leading off from the main room. "Let me show you to your quarters," he said, his voice warm. "You'll each have your own room, a place to rest and recharge between missions."

They walked down the hallway, passing several doors, each marked with a number. Barella stopped in front of two doors, side by side. "Haruto, you'll be in room 13," he said, his voice casual. "And Makima, you'll be in room 12."

With a final nod, Barella bid them goodnight and disappeared back down the hallway. Haruto swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the number on his door. 13. The unluckiest number of all.

Makima, noticing his hesitation, smirked, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Don't tell me you believe in the superstition surrounding the number 13," she said, her voice teasing.

Haruto scoffed, his cheeks flushing slightly. "Of course not," he said, his voice defensive. "It's just a number."

With that, he pushed open the door and stepped inside, his head held high. Makima's smile widened, a knowing look in her eyes. She didn't believe him for a second. With a final, amused glance, she disappeared into her own room, the door closing softly behind her.

Barella made his way back down the hallway, his mind already racing with plans and strategies. As he passed the bathroom, he saw Hayato disappear inside, his expression as unreadable as ever.

In the main room, Lunin was nowhere to be seen, likely off in search of more vodka. Only Müller and Johnny remained, sprawled on the couches, their expressions bored.

As Barella reached the door, he paused, turning back to face the two young men. "Don't forget your mission, my sons," he said, his voice low and intense.

Johnny looked up, a cocky grin on his face. "We know, master," he said, his voice filled with confidence. "We won't let you down."

Barella smiled, a hint of pride in his eyes. With a final nod, he turned and left the room, the door closing behind him with a soft click.

In the silence that followed, Müller turned to Johnny, his expression curious. "What do you think of the new recruits?" he asked, his voice low.

Johnny shrugged, his eyes fixed on the television screen. "The girl's hot," he said, his voice casual. "But the guy seems like a bit of a pussy. Did you see the way he reacted to the number 13?"

Müller chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't underestimate him," he said, his voice serious. "You heard what Barella said. He took down Santa's puppets like they were nothing."

Johnny scoffed, his eyes rolling. "Beginner's luck," he said, his voice dismissive. "I bet he pissed his pants the whole time."

Müller just shook his head, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "We'll see," he said, his voice cryptic. "Only time will tell what kind of Devil Hunters they really are."

With that, the two lapsed into silence, each lost in their own thoughts. Outside, the night was dark and cold, the wind howling through the trees like a pack of hungry wolves.

Haruto was unpacking his suitcase when a knock sounded at the door. Before he could respond, Makima entered, carrying her own luggage. "What are you doing?" Haruto asked, surprise coloring his voice.

Makima set her suitcase down and glanced at the bed, a mischievous glint in her eye. "The bed is big enough for both of us," she said casually, "so I thought we could share the room."

Haruto's cheeks flushed, his hands fidgeting nervously. "No, wait, that wouldn't be right," he protested, his voice slightly higher than usual.

Makima tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips. "But we've already shared a bed before, remember? Back in the village."

Haruto waved his hands, flustered. "That was different! We weren't a couple then."

Makima's smile widened, her eyes twinkling with mirth. "All the more reason we can do it now, don't you think?"

Haruto didn't look convinced, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. Makima's grin turned sly as an idea formed in her mind. "I know how to persuade you," she purred, her voice low and enticing.

Confusion flickered across Haruto's face as Makima suddenly pushed him onto the bed. His eyes widened as she knelt before him, her fingers deftly unbuckling his belt. "W-where did you see this?" Haruto stammered, his cheeks burning.

Makima smirked up at him, her usual stoic expression replaced by a look of pure desire. "In those tapes you have hidden under your bed," she murmured, her voice husky.

Haruto's breath hitched as Makima freed his member from the confines of his pants. She gazed at it hungrily, her eyes darkening with lust. "It's so big, Haruto," she breathed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

Before Haruto could respond, Makima took him into her mouth, her lips wrapping around his length. Haruto let out a strangled gasp, his hips bucking involuntarily. Makima moaned around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body.

"I've been dying to do this, Haruto," Makima panted, her breath hot against his sensitive skin. She lavished attention on him with her tongue, tracing the veins and ridges with deliberate slowness.

Haruto's fingers tangled in her hair, his grip tightening as she took him deeper. The wet heat of her mouth was intoxicating, the slide of her tongue driving him mad with desire. He had never seen Makima like this, so unrestrained, so wanton.

It was as if a dam had broken, all the pent-up tension and longing between them finally finding release. Haruto's mind was hazy with pleasure, his world narrowing to the feeling of Makima's mouth on him, the sound of her moans filling the room.

"Makima," he gasped, his voice ragged. "I'm close..."

Makima hummed in acknowledgement, increasing her pace. She hollowed her cheeks, sucking hard, her fingers digging into Haruto's thighs. With a final, guttural moan, Haruto came undone, his release hitting the back of Makima's throat.

She swallowed every drop, licking him clean with long, languid strokes of her tongue. When she finally pulled away, her lips were swollen and glistening, a satisfied smile on her face.

Haruto, his chest heaving, stared at her in awe. "That was..." he trailed off, at a loss for words.

Makima crawled up his body, straddling his hips. "Just the beginning," she murmured, her voice low and promising.

She leaned down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Haruto could taste himself on her tongue, the flavor mingling with the unique sweetness that was purely Makima. His hands roamed her body, mapping the curves and planes he had only dreamed of touching.

Makima ground against him, her hips rolling in a slow, torturous rhythm. Haruto groaned into the kiss, his body responding eagerly to her movements. He wanted her, needed her, with an intensity that stole his breath.

"Haruto," Makima breathed, breaking the kiss. Her eyes were dark with desire, her lips curled into a coy smile. "I want you inside me."

Haruto's heart raced at her words, his blood singing with anticipation. He flipped them over, hovering above her, his eyes drinking in the sight of her flushed and wanting beneath him.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice rough with emotion. "There's no going back after this."

Makima reached up, cupping his face in her hands. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life," she said softly, her eyes shining with love and trust.

Makima and Haruto were lost in a passionate embrace, their bodies intertwined on the bed. As Makima shed the last of her clothing, she looked at Haruto with eyes filled with desire, her usual stoic demeanor completely absent.

"Haruto," she breathed, her voice trembling slightly, "what is this feeling? I'm so hot all over."

She took Haruto's hardness in her hand, guiding it to her slick entrance. As he entered her, Makima let out a soft moan, her back arching in pleasure.

"Haruto, it feels so good," she panted, her hips rocking against his. "Please, don't pull out."

Seeing Makima so unrestrained, so different from her usual composed self, drove Haruto wild with desire. He thrust into her, matching her rhythm, their bodies moving as one.

Makima began to ride him in earnest, her breasts bouncing with each movement. She reveled in the feeling of being on top, of having control, the pleasure building within her unlike anything she had ever experienced.

The room filled with the sound of their lovemaking - the creaking of the bed, Makima's increasingly vocal moans, the slap of skin against skin. Lost in the throes of passion, they paid no heed to the volume, too caught up in each other to care.

"Haruto," Makima gasped, her voice tight with need, "I feel so strange, like I need to pee. But I don't want to stop."

Haruto, his breath coming in short, sharp bursts, managed a strained chuckle. "It's not pee," he assured her, his hips never ceasing their movement.

Makima's eyes widened, realization dawning. "Then... I'm going to come?" she asked, wonder and anticipation lacing her voice. "Haruto, make me come. Please."

Spurred on by her words, Haruto redoubled his efforts, thrusting into her with abandon. Makima met him stroke for stroke, her nails digging into his shoulders, anchoring herself to him as the pleasure mounted.

"Don't stop, Haruto," she begged, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I'm so close..."

With a final, powerful thrust, they both tumbled over the edge, their orgasms crashing over them in waves of ecstasy. Haruto spilled himself inside her, the sensation sending Makima into a frenzy of pleasure.

She laughed breathlessly, her fingers tangling in her own hair as the aftershocks rolled through her, her climax seeming to go on and on. Haruto held her close, marveling at the sight of her, so open and uninhibited in her passion.

As they came down from their high, Makima nestled into Haruto's embrace, her head resting on his chest. She could hear his heart racing, the sound oddly soothing in the afterglow of their lovemaking.

"That was..." she trailed off, struggling to find the words. "I never knew it could be like that."

Haruto pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his arms tightening around her. "Me neither," he admitted, his voice soft with wonder. "You're amazing, Makima."

She smiled up at him, her eyes shining with a new depth of emotion. "So are you, Haruto," she murmured, snuggling closer. "I'm glad we're in this together."

Makima climbed on top of Haruto, her golden eyes gazing deeply into his blue ones. With a playful smile, she leaned in close and whispered, "Haruto, we won't be sleeping tonight."

Haruto swallowed hard, a mix of anticipation and nervousness washing over him as Makima's intentions became clear.

The next morning, Haruto finally managed to drift off to sleep, Makima nestled comfortably by his side. She looked content and peaceful, a stark contrast to her usual stoic demeanor.

Suddenly, a loud knock at the door jolted Haruto awake. Makima, still half-asleep, mumbled, "Go see who it is, Haruto."

Exhausted and groggy, Haruto dragged himself out of bed, wrapping a towel around his waist. He stumbled to the door and opened it, revealing Jhony standing in the hallway.

Jhony's eyes darted to the towel and the scattered clothing on the floor. A smirk spread across his face as he let out a low whistle. "Damn, you Chinese dog, you were fucking your girl, huh? Guess you're not as much of a pussy as I thought."

Haruto rubbed his eyes, too tired to correct Jhony's racial slur. "What do you want?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Jhony's expression turned serious. "Barella's here. Apparently, he's got some important news."

Haruto perked up slightly, his brow furrowing. "About Santa Claus?"

Jhony shook his head. "Even more important, from the sounds of it. Get dressed and hurry up."

Haruto nodded, closing the door as Jhony walked away. He sat on the edge of the bed, reaching for his pants. But before he could put them on, Makima's hand snaked around his waist, her fingers brushing against his member.

"Haruto," she purred, her voice low and enticing, "can we do it again?"

Haruto's eyes widened, a flash of fear crossing his face. He was still sore from their marathon lovemaking session, and the thought of going another round made him cringe.

"Barella needs us," he said, gently removing her hand. "We should get dressed."

Makima pouted, but relented. "Fine," she sighed, rolling out of bed.

They dressed quickly, the urgency of the situation overriding any lingering desire. Haruto couldn't help but steal glances at Makima as she slipped into her clothes, admiring the way the fabric hugged her curves.

Makima caught him looking and smirked, a knowing glint in her eye. "Later," she promised, her voice a soft purr.

Haruto swallowed hard, a shiver of anticipation running down his spine. He knew he was in for a long day, in more ways than one.

As they made their way to the main room, Haruto's mind raced with possibilities. What could be more important than news about Santa Claus? And why did Barella need to tell them in person?

As Haruto and Makima entered the main room, they found the rest of the team already gathered. Lunin took one look at Haruto's dark circles and Makima's contented smile and burst out laughing.

"Looks like someone had a good time last night," he said, his voice filled with mirth.

Makima, her stoic smile never wavering, replied, "The sex was quite enjoyable, actually."

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. Even Hayato looked up from his book, his eyebrows raised in surprise.

Barella cleared his throat, drawing everyone's attention. "Right, well, I've called you all here because there's some important news. It's not exactly a mission, but rather something you all need to be aware of."

Müller leaned forward, his expression curious. "What's going on? The French want another trench war?"

Barella shook his head. "Have you heard of the Chainsaw Devil?"

Makima spoke up, her voice calm and even. "It's a devil from Hell, known as a hero down there. It's one of the most powerful and dangerous devils in existence, comparable to a primordial devil, and even stronger than religious devils."

Barella looked at her, impressed. "You know quite a bit, young lady."

Makima tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "Just the usual."

Haruto's mind raced. Just how much had the Japanese government taught Makima? He had never even heard of the Chainsaw Devil before.

Barella continued, "Well, I've received information from a very reliable source, a devil we have contact with, that the Chainsaw Devil is here, in our world."

This caught everyone's attention. Makima leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with interest. Hayato closed his book, his expression serious. Müller and Jhony looked worried, their usual bravado gone.

Hayato, noticing the others' reactions, couldn't help but wonder just how powerful this devil was.

Barella went on, "We don't know its current location, but it's crucial that we find it. If the Chainsaw Devil is here, it means it either died in Hell or was expelled. Either option is dangerous, as it means there's an incredibly powerful devil on the loose."

The room fell silent, the weight of Barella's words sinking in. Haruto swallowed hard, his mind racing with the implications.

Makima, her smile taking on a slightly unsettling edge, turned to Haruto. "So, the Chainsaw Devil," she said, her voice filled with a quiet excitement. "Interesting, don't you think, Haruto?"

Haruto met her gaze, a shiver running down his spine at the intensity in her eyes. He had a feeling that this new development was going to change everything, in ways he couldn't even begin to imagine.

Makima eagerly dragged Haruto back to their room, her grip on his hand firm and insistent. "Come on, Haruto," she said, her voice filled with a playful excitement, "let's make the most of the day."

Haruto glanced back at his teammates, his eyes pleading. "Help," he mouthed, a hint of desperation in his expression.

Jhony, grinning from ear to ear, pretended to wipe a tear from his eye. "That boy fills me with pride," he said, his voice mock-solemn.

Müller shook his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "Looks like the Asian can't keep up anymore."

Lunin let out a booming laugh. "In the Soviet Union, the women are even more insatiable than her," he said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

Hayato, as usual, kept his nose buried in his book, seemingly oblivious to the entire exchange.

Back in the room, Makima wasted no time in pushing Haruto onto the bed, her fingers making quick work of his pants. Haruto, his mind still reeling from the sudden change in pace, tried to gather his thoughts.

"Makima," he said, his voice hesitant, "don't you ever have a problem with anything?"

Makima, already taking Haruto's member into her mouth, paused. "What do you mean?" she asked, her brow furrowed in confusion.

Haruto swallowed hard, trying to focus despite the incredibly distracting sensation of Makima's lips on his skin. "It's just... every time you try something different, you seem to get obsessed with it."

Makima pulled back, her head tilted in thought. "Why do you say that?" she asked, her fingers still idly stroking Haruto's length.

Haruto bit back a groan, his hips twitching involuntarily. "Well," he managed, his voice strained, "when you first tried ice cream, you always wanted to eat it. And when you started watching that TV show, you couldn't stop."

Makima's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of realization passing over her features. "So, should I stop?" she asked, her hand still moving in a maddeningly slow rhythm.

Haruto's breath caught in his throat, his body torn between the desire for her to continue and the need to have a serious conversation. "No, don't stop," he said, his voice rough with need. "But just... think about it, okay?"

Makima smiled, a mischievous glint in her eye. Without another word, she lowered her head, taking Haruto into her mouth once more.

Haruto's eyes fluttered closed, a low moan escaping his lips as Makima's tongue swirled around his tip. She took him deeper, her mouth hot and wet and perfect, the sensation sending sparks of pleasure racing up his spine.

His hands tangled in her hair, his fingers tightening their grip as she bobbed her head, setting a steady, relentless pace. The room filled with the sound of her soft, muffled moans, the wet slide of her lips against his skin, the ragged gasps of Haruto's breath.

Makima's hands roamed over Haruto's body, her fingers tracing the lines of his muscles, the curves of his hips. She seemed to know instinctively where to touch, where to linger, each caress stoking the fire building within him.

Haruto's hips began to move of their own accord, thrusting shallowly into the warm cavern of Makima's mouth. She took him eagerly, her throat relaxing to accommodate his length, her eyes shining with a fierce, primal hunger.

The sight of her, so wanton and uninhibited, was almost too much for Haruto to bear. He felt the tension coiling in his gut, the telltale tingle at the base of his spine that signaled his impending release.

"Makima," he gasped, his voice a strained whisper, "I'm close..."

Makima hummed in acknowledgment, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure through Haruto's body. She increased her pace, her head bobbing faster, her tongue swirling and pressing in all the right places.

With a final, guttural moan, Haruto came undone, his release pulsing into Makima's eager mouth. She swallowed it all, her throat working around him, prolonging his pleasure until he was spent and shaking.

As Haruto lay there, his chest heaving, Makima crawled up his body, a satisfied smile on her face. She pressed a soft kiss to his lips, letting him taste himself on her tongue.

"You know," she said, her voice a low, contented purr, "I think you might be right. I do tend to get a bit... obsessive when I find something I like."

Haruto chuckled, his arms wrapping around her waist and pulling her close. "You think?" he teased, his voice warm with affection.

Makima nestled into his embrace, her head resting on his chest. "But is that really such a bad thing?" she asked, her voice thoughtful. "To know what you want and to pursue it with everything you have?"

Haruto was silent for a moment, considering her words. "No," he said finally, his voice soft. "I suppose it isn't."

And as they lay there, basking in the afterglow of their lovemaking, Haruto couldn't help but marvel at the incredible, complex, utterly fascinating woman in his arms. Obsessive or not, he knew that he would never tire of discovering new sides to her, of unraveling the mysteries that made her who she was.

For now, though, he was content to simply hold her, to revel in the warmth of her body against his, and to let the rest of the world fade away.

Just for a little while.

______________

In the heart of a frozen forest, where the trees stood like silent sentinels and the snow fell in a soft whisper, a solitary figure made her way through the wintry landscape. Her hair, a vibrant shade of purple, stood out in stark contrast to the endless white that surrounded her.

She walked with purpose, her steps sure and steady despite the heavy load of firewood she carried in her arms. The cold seemed to have no effect on her, her cheeks remaining rosy and her eyes bright despite the biting chill in the air.

As she approached a small, rustic cabin nestled among the trees, a sense of warmth and comfort seemed to emanate from the humble dwelling. She pushed open the door, the hinges creaking softly, and stepped inside, the heat from the fireplace immediately enveloping her like a warm embrace.

Setting the firewood down near the hearth, she tossed a few logs onto the dying embers, watching as the flames licked hungrily at the new fuel. As the fire crackled and danced, casting flickering shadows on the walls, her gaze fell upon a letter lying on the rough-hewn table.

Curious, she picked it up, her eyes scanning the words scrawled across the page. "Dear Santa Claus," it read, "your gift is proving more difficult to wrap than we anticipated. It will take some time to prepare Haruto for you. With love, your boys."

A slow, enigmatic smile spread across her face, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of amusement and anticipation. Santa Claus, as she was known, chuckled softly to herself, the sound echoing in the quiet of the cabin.

"It seems I'll have to wait a little longer," she mused, her voice as smooth and rich as honey. "No matter. I doubt I could defeat him with my own hands, anyway. It's better to let a Primordial handle it."

She set the letter back down on the table, her fingers tracing the words with a gentle, almost reverent touch. The smile never left her face, a secret, knowing expression that hinted at plans and machinations yet to be revealed.

Outside, the wind howled through the trees, the forest seeming to shiver and sway in the face of some unseen force. But inside the cabin, Santa Claus sat in front of the fire, the crackling flames casting a warm, golden glow over her features.

She was content to wait, to bide her time until the moment was right. After all, she had waited this long. What was a little longer in the grand scheme of things?

And so, as the night deepened and the stars emerged, twinkling like diamonds in the velvet sky, Santa Claus sat in her cabin, the fire casting dancing shadows on the walls, and plotted and planned, her mind filled with visions of the future and the role she would play in shaping it.

A future where Haruto, the Devil Hunter, would become her ultimate gift. A present wrapped in blood and chaos, a tool to be wielded in the name of a greater purpose.

And she would be the one to deliver him, to mold him into the weapon she needed him to be.

All in good time.