The Devil of the Final Judgment

In the shadowy, cramped confines of a government office in Tokyo, the year was 1987. A circle of Japan's elite, comprising senior officials from both the government and the Public Safety Bureau, huddled over documents and photographs scattered across an old, scarred table. The focus of their intense scrutiny was an individual who defied the norms of their usual subjects of concern: a sixteen-year-old girl named Makima.

Amid the haze of cigarette smoke and the low hum of hushed conversations, doubts and opinions clashed. "She's merely a child," one official protested, his voice laced with concern. "How could she possibly be prepared for the dangers that lie beyond these walls?"

Yet, another, with a voice as steady as his conviction, countered, "Youth is not a weakness. Makima is far from ordinary. If we are to harness her potential, she must be tempered in the crucible of real-world experience."

The debate raged on, veering between ethical considerations and strategic necessities. Raised in isolation, Makima's childhood unfolded within the stark, unyielding confines of government facilities, far removed from any semblance of normalcy. Her education, tailored to her unique capabilities, aimed not at nurturing innocence but at forging a weapon.

A seasoned official, his face carved with the marks of countless battles unseen and wars unspoken, finally pierced the cacophony of debate. "We're not deliberating over a normal recruit. Makima possesses insights and abilities that could redefine our struggle against the devils. Our dilemma isn't her readiness but whether we are prepared for the consequences of unleashing such a force."

Silence ensued, his words resonating with a sobering gravity. The decision that loomed over them was monumental, setting the stage not just for Makima's future but potentially altering the course of their clandestine war.

"Let's proceed," he declared with an authoritative nod. "But she won't be thrust into this alone. Kishibe and Quanxi—though they haven't been partners for years, it's time to reunite them. They'll form a new team, and their first task will be to mentor her, to watch over her as she takes her first steps into the fray."

With that, the officials reached a consensus, albeit with some reservations. Makima would be introduced to the front lines, not as a mere participant but as a pivotal player in a game shadowed by intrigue and danger. Assigned to a newly reformed team under the watchful eyes of veterans Kishibe and Quanxi, her journey from the sterile safety of white rooms to the chaotic battlefields of devil hunting was set into motion.

As the meeting dispersed, there was an unspoken acknowledgment that they were on the brink of a new chapter. Makima, with her enigmatic potential, was about to embark on a path that would intertwine her fate with that of the world's clandestine battles, shaping her into the figure destined to emerge.

________

In the sterile, utilitarian confines of a nondescript Public Safety Bureau office, Quanxi and Kishibe found themselves seated across from each other. The air was thick with the tension of their recent assignment, punctuated only by the occasional shuffle of papers and the distant murmur of the bustling Tokyo streets below.

"I still can't believe you agreed to this... babysitting a kid," Quanxi remarked, her voice a blend of amusement and disbelief. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed, a skeptical eyebrow raised in Kishibe's direction.

Kishibe, ever the stoic, merely shrugged, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "I only agreed on one condition," he retorted, his gaze sharp, "that they'd let my pupil join the team. He's got potential—more than most realize."

Their conversation was abruptly interrupted by a loud call from Kishibe, "Hey, where are those coffees?" The gruffness of his voice echoed off the office walls, a stark contrast to the usual quietude.

As if on cue, the door swung open, revealing a young man balancing three steaming cups of coffee on a tray. Haruto Yoshida, with his jet-black hair slicked back save for a few rebellious strands that framed his forehead, stepped into the room. His striking blue eyes scanned the space, a mix of eagerness and nervousness evident in his demeanor. Dressed in a suit that seemed too formal for his age, Haruto exuded a certain vibrancy that seemed out of place in the drab office setting.

"Sorry for the wait!" Haruto exclaimed, his voice laced with an energy that seemed to fill the room. He carefully placed the tray on the table, his movements precise yet betraying a hint of underlying anxiety.

Kishibe nodded his approval, gesturing for Haruto to take a seat. "This is Quanxi," he introduced, his tone shifting to something softer, almost mentor-like. "One of the best Devil Hunters you'll ever meet."

Haruto's eyes widened in recognition, and he extended a hand towards Quanxi. "It's an honor to meet you, ma'am. I've heard a lot about your work."

Quanxi eyed the young man, her initial skepticism fading ever so slightly. "Just Quanxi is fine. And save the formalities—we're going to be teammates, after all."

A brief silence fell over the trio, the gravity of their upcoming mission hanging in the air like a dense fog. Haruto broke the silence, his tone shifting from nervous to determined. "I know I'm new to this, but I promise I won't let you down. I believe in doing what's right, in fighting for justice."

Kishibe couldn't help but chuckle, a rare sound from the veteran hunter. "Justice, huh? You'll find that things aren't always so black and white in our line of work. But that's a good mindset to start with."

Quanxi, too, cracked a small smile, intrigued by the young man's idealism. "Well, if you're going to be part of this team, you'll need more than just ideals. But we'll see what you're made of soon enough."

As the trio settled into their newfound rapport, the door to the office creaked open once more, drawing all eyes towards the entrance. Standing in the threshold was Makima, her presence immediately transforming the room's atmosphere. Makima, even at sixteen, carried herself with an unsettling poise that belied her age. Her hair, a deep shade of red, fell around her shoulders in a manner that seemed both meticulous and effortlessly elegant. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, swept over the room, taking in its occupants with an unreadable expression. Dressed in the standard attire of a Devil Hunter, she managed to imbue the uniform with an air of distinctiveness that was uniquely her own.

The seasoned instincts of Kishibe and Quanxi immediately signaled that there was something amiss with this young girl. It wasn't her age or appearance, but something deeper, a certain quality to her demeanor that suggested she was far more than she appeared. The tension in the room thickened, an unspoken recognition among the veterans that Makima was not to be underestimated.

Before either could address the newcomer, Haruto, ever the embodiment of enthusiasm and naivety, was struck by an instant and overwhelming infatuation. With a lack of any semblance of restraint or subtlety, he blurted out, "Hi! I'm Haruto Yoshida, 17 years old! My favorite food is pizza, my favorite superhero is Superman, and, uh, I really like girls with big... eyes! Deep eyes! And, um, I'm really easy-going, happy to follow the lead. It's so great to meet you!"

His declaration, earnest and unfiltered, hung in the air, a stark contrast to the previously tense atmosphere. Makima's gaze shifted to Haruto, a flicker of amusement—or was it calculation?—crossing her features. She offered a nod, her voice calm and measured as she introduced herself. "I'm Makima. It's... interesting to meet you too, Haruto."

Kishibe and Quanxi exchanged a glance, an entire conversation passing between them without a word. Both were well aware of the complexities and dangers that lay ahead, not just from the devils they hunted but perhaps from within their own ranks. Makima's arrival had subtly shifted the dynamics of the team, introducing an element that was as intriguing as it was potentially volatile.

Haruto's enthusiasm, unchecked by the gravity of their situation or the experienced hunters in the room, took another leap forward. Without a moment's hesitation or a filter, he blurted out, almost shouting, "Do you have a boyfriend? Because you're really pretty!"

The question hung in the air like a rogue firework, bright, unexpected, and somewhat out of place. Before Makima could respond, Kishibe's hand shot out, a swift rap on Haruto's head bringing him back down to earth. "Calm down, kid," Kishibe growled, the frustration clear in his voice. "You're letting your hormones do the talking. As your mentor, it's disappointing to see you try to flirt like that. Show some professionalism."

Rubbing the sore spot on his head, Haruto mumbled an apology, the flush on his cheeks deepening. Quanxi, who had been observing the exchange with a mix of amusement and disbelief, couldn't help but chuckle. "He does it much better than you ever did, Kishibe," she teased, her words laced with a hint of mockery. "At least he's direct."

Kishibe shot Quanxi a look that might have been annoyance mixed with a reluctant agreement. Makima, for her part, simply observed the dynamics unfolding before her with an inscrutable expression. Her silence and the faint, knowing smile that played upon her lips only added to the mystery surrounding her.

Haruto, now somewhat chastened, took a step back, his previous confidence dimmed but not extinguished. "I'm... sorry," he stammered, directing his apology to both Makima and his teammates. "I got carried away. It won't happen again."

Makima finally spoke, her voice calm and composed. "There's no need for apologies. It's important that we understand each other if we're to work together effectively. Let's focus on our objectives."

Kishibe, with the practiced ease of a seasoned Devil Hunter, turned to Haruto, his gaze sharp and calculating. "What's on the agenda today?" he asked, the question cutting through the lingering awkwardness from earlier.

Eager to prove his attentiveness and dedication, Haruto quickly snatched a piece of paper from the cluttered desk, scanning the contents with a seriousness that momentarily aged him. "Our first task is to patrol the area," he announced, his voice carrying a note of responsibility he felt deep within.

Kishibe, contemplating the assignment with a mixture of thoughtfulness and a cunning that had served him well over the years, made an unexpected suggestion. "You two go," he said, nodding towards Haruto and Makima. "Handle the patrol yourselves."

Haruto, taken aback, hesitated. "Are you sure that's wise?" he questioned, his concern for protocol and safety momentarily outweighing his previous enthusiasm.

Kishibe leaned in close, a conspiratorial glint in his eye, and whispered, "It's a chance to be alone with Makima, isn't it?" The implication, paired with Kishibe's knowing look, reignited Haruto's earlier fervor.

"I'll do it!" Haruto declared, a renewed vigor in his step. He turned to Makima, the excitement palpable in his voice. "Shall we, Miss Makima?"

Makima, her expression unreadable yet tinged with a smile that suggested she was fully aware of the undercurrents at play, simply nodded. Without a word, she followed Haruto out of the office, leaving behind a trail of speculation and curiosity.

As the door closed behind them, Quanxi turned to Kishibe, her voice laced with skepticism. "Was that suggestion born out of laziness? Too tired of patrolling at your ripe age of forty?"

Kishibe, unfazed, replied with a wry smile, "At my age, I've earned the right to delegate a bit of legwork."

Quanxi, her concern for the mission's success and their charges' safety coming to the fore, pressed on. "Do you think it's wise, leaving them together? If anything happens to Makima—or worse, if she does something to Haruto..."

Her voice trailed off, the unspoken fears hanging heavy between them. Kishibe, lighting a cigarette with a practiced flick, exhaled a stream of smoke before answering with a calm confidence that belied the gravity of their conversation.

"Who do you think I am? I don't choose my students lightly. The kid is strong—stronger than most realize. Give him a few years, and he might be capable of taking us down if he wanted."

The assertion was bold, a testament to Kishibe's ability to discern potential and strength where others might only see youth and inexperience. It was a reminder of the complexity of their world, where power and danger often walked hand in hand, and where the lines between mentor and protégé were blurred by the harsh realities of their profession.

Quanxi, though not entirely convinced, recognized the truth in Kishibe's words. The duo left behind in the office understood the stakes of their world all too well. As they ventured out into the uncertainty of their patrol, the balance of mentorship, camaraderie, and the ever-present shadow of danger loomed large, setting the stage for trials, growth, and the unpredictable dynamics of power that defined their existence as Devil Hunters.

As Makima and Haruto stepped out into the bustling streets of Tokyo, 1987, they were greeted by a city alive with the vibrant pulse of the late Showa period. Neon lights flickered and danced on the surfaces of buildings, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the crowded streets below. The air was filled with the mixed scents of street food—takoyaki, yakitori, and the unmistakable aroma of ramen wafting from the numerous food stalls lining the sidewalks. People, a mix of salarymen in suits, young couples on dates, and groups of friends, moved through the city with a purposeful energy, their conversations blending into a symphony of everyday life.

The Tokyo of this era was a city of contrasts, where traditional wooden houses stood in the shadow of soaring skyscrapers, and ancient temples shared the skyline with the burgeoning signs of technological advancement. It was a place caught between its rich history and a future that promised endless possibilities.

Haruto, trying to navigate the complexities of his assignment while also grappling with his own nervous excitement, attempted to strike up a conversation with Makima as they walked. "Tokyo's pretty lively, isn't it? It's like the city never sleeps," he said, his voice carrying a note of awe as he took in the sights and sounds around them.

Makima, her attention seemingly on their surroundings yet acutely aware of Haruto's attempts at conversation, nodded. "It's the heart of Japan. Every street, every alley has its own story," she responded, her tone measured yet not entirely dismissive.

Encouraged, Haruto pressed on, eager to make some connection. "Do you have a favorite place in Tokyo? Somewhere you like to go when you're not... you know, hunting devils?"

Makima turned to look at him, her expression enigmatic. "I find the concept of 'favorite' places interesting. Tokyo is constantly changing; what's here today might be gone tomorrow. But there are places with... significant value."

Haruto, sensing the depth in her words, realized that Makima was far from ordinary. Her perspective on life, shaped by her unique experiences and responsibilities, was something he could barely grasp. Yet, his curiosity and his desire to understand her better drove him to keep the conversation going.

"Must be tough, balancing everything—the mission, the expectations," Haruto ventured, hoping to draw out more about the enigmatic girl beside him.

Makima glanced at him, a hint of something unreadable passing through her eyes. "Balance is essential in our line of work. But one must always be prepared for the balance to shift... unexpectedly."

As they continued their patrol through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo, Haruto found himself both intrigued and bewildered by Makima. The city around them, with its ceaseless energy and hidden depths, seemed almost a reflection of the complexities he was beginning to discover in his enigmatic companion.

Haruto, still caught in the thrall of their surroundings and the company of Makima, couldn't resist the urge to voice a compliment that had been on his mind. "Your short hair... it suits you really well," he said, a genuine note of admiration in his voice.

Before Makima could respond to Haruto's comment, the relative peace of the Tokyo evening was shattered. From the side of a building, a creature that seemed to defy the natural laws of the world emerged, causing immediate chaos and destruction. This was no ordinary threat; it was a devil, known for its malevolence and danger.

The Fly Devil, as it revealed itself, was a grotesque amalgamation of insectoid horror and demonic presence. Its body was covered in a thick, black carapace, glistening under the neon lights of Tokyo, with wings that buzzed with a sound so loud it drowned out the city's usual cacophony. Its eyes, multifaceted and gleaming with malevolence, fixed on the crowd of panicked civilians. From its mouth, a twisted parody of a human's, dripped a viscous, dark saliva as it articulated its threat, "I'm going to eat you," directed squarely at Haruto with a hunger that chilled the bone.

"Makima, we should call Kishibe," Haruto suggested, instinctively understanding the gravity of their situation. However, even as he spoke, he knew that waiting for backup was not an option. The Fly Devil was already causing havoc, and every second they delayed increased the danger to the innocent people around them.

Without waiting for Makima's agreement, Haruto sprang into action. His training kicked in, and he shouted at the top of his lungs to the surrounding crowd, "Run! Get to safety!" His voice, firm and commanding, cut through the panic, guiding the civilians as they scrambled to escape the immediate danger.

The Fly Devil, amused by Haruto's bravado, buzzed menacingly closer. Its voice, a horrifying cacophony of buzzes and human-like tones, taunted him, "I'm going to eat you."

Back in the office, Quanxi and Kishibe remained unaware of the unfolding chaos on the streets of Tokyo. The room was steeped in a quiet tension, the calm before the storm, as they awaited any news from the field. Quanxi, her instincts as a hunter alert to the potential dangers of their profession, broke the silence with a question that hung heavily in the air. "Do you think Haruto will be okay out there?"

Kishibe, his expression unreadable, responded with a confidence that seemed to stem from a deep well of experience. "Yes, he'll be fine," he stated, his tone leaving no room for doubt. "The kid might come off as a bit of an idiot at times, but he's extremely strong."

Quanxi, intrigued, leaned in. "Why do you say that?" she asked, her curiosity piqued.

Kishibe glanced towards the window, as if looking into the distance could somehow bring him closer to the action on the streets below. "He's skilled in hand-to-hand combat; I made sure of that myself. He's reckless, yes, but that recklessness comes with a kind of fearlessness that can't be taught." He paused, a rare hesitation in his voice as he chose his next words carefully. "And," he added, drawing out the moment, "he has a contract with an incredibly powerful devil."

The weight of his admission hung in the air, thick with implications. Quanxi, her interest now fully captured, pressed on. "Which one?" she asked, her voice a mix of excitement and concern.

Haruto squared off against the Fly Devil, its buzzing malignance filling the air. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small Bible with deliberate calmness. Bringing it to his thumb, now marked with a self-inflicted cut, he let a drop of his blood fall onto the aged pages. His voice was a hushed force as he murmured, "From the ashes of fate, I summon thee, Dark Judge. Decide and drag, oh Devil of the Final Judgment!"

The moment Haruto's blood made contact with the Bible, the atmosphere changed; a palpable tension rose as if the very fabric of reality awaited the arrival of something ancient and formidable. There was a flash of light, and from it emerged the towering figure of the devil from Haruto's contract.

Materializing from the light was a creature of awe-inspiring presence, its form that of a colossal avian humanoid shrouded in ethereal robes that seemed to merge with the swirling mists around it. Gigantic wings, each feather etched with celestial patterns, spread wide, dwarfing the buildings alongside which they now stood. The devil's head, crowned with a halo of light that cast an otherworldly glow, was both noble and terrifying. In its grip was a massive book, chained to a scale that dangled, swaying with an unseen wind—a symbol of judgment and finality.

The air around them became heavy, charged with a foreboding sense of power. The Fly Devil, faced with this imposing judge, let out an uncertain chitter, its earlier confidence faltering in the presence of such a being. Haruto, standing before the Devil of the Final Judgment, knew that the balance of the fight had shifted dramatically.

The Judgment Devil, an arbiter from the depths of eschatological lore, towered over the scene with divine authority. Its eyes, ancient and unfathomable, fixed upon the Fly Devil, and with a voice that resonated with the gravity of countless ages, it declared, "You are to be judged."

Chains, ethereal yet as strong as the very laws they represented, sprang forth from the ether, coiling around the Fly Devil with an inescapable grip. A hush fell over the street, the cacophony of Tokyo's life momentarily stilled by the unfolding spectacle. The Judgment Devil opened its massive tome, the pages fluttering as if caught in a supernatural wind, each leaf inscribed with the fates of creatures both mortal and demonic.

The Judgment Devil's proclamation was as chilling as the deepest abyss, "Fly Devil, you shall now serve your sentence." The words echoed, seeming to reverberate through dimensions, not just across the physical space.

It turned its gaze upon Haruto, its expression inscrutable, and spoke, "Another job well done, little human." The acknowledgment was both commendation and a reminder of the smallness of humanity in the face of such cosmic entities.

From beneath them, the ground cracked, a portal yawning open like a wound in the world, a direct passage to hell itself. The Judgment Devil began its descent, the chains pulling the struggling Fly Devil, who screamed for mercy in a cacophony of horror and despair, its earlier malice replaced by the terror of its impending doom.

The Fly Devil's pleas were drowned out by the sound of its own roars of anguish, echoing off the buildings, a grim testament to the finality of the judgment passed. The chains dragged it inexorably down into the fiery maw of the portal, the light from within casting a hellish glow on the scene.

Haruto watched, a mix of relief and awe etched on his face, as the Judgment Devil and its captive were swallowed by the portal. With a final, ear-splitting roar that seemed to capture the Fly Devil's damnation, the portal snapped shut, leaving behind nothing but the faintest trace of brimstone and the reverberating silence of a judgment executed.

The streets of Tokyo, once a theater of chaos, now lay eerily calm, the normalcy of the night shattered and then stitched back together as if by the hand of an unseen weaver. Haruto stood alone, the weight of what had transpired settling upon him, a sobering reminder of the world he inhabited and the power he wielded.

Makima approached Haruto, her steps measured and silent, almost as if she were gliding across the concrete. Her eyes, reflecting a mind always at work, appraised him with a new level of scrutiny. "You're a very interesting person," she said, her voice betraying nothing of what churned beneath the surface.

Haruto, still buzzing with the adrenaline of the encounter and his victory, turned to her with a sheepish grin. "Interesting? I don't know about that. I'm just doing what I think is right," he replied, his energetic nature bubbling to the surface despite the gravity of what had just occurred.

Makima tilted her head slightly, considering his words. "And why did you become a Devil Hunter?" she inquired, her gaze piercing.

Haruto's response came quickly, fueled by the passion that drove him. "I want to help people, to fight against devils and bring hope to this world. Someone's got to stand up and make a difference, right?" His voice carried the unmistakable fervor of someone who truly believed they could change the world.

Makima observed Haruto for a moment, her expression unchanged. Then, with the slightest of nods, she repeated, "You're... very interesting." Her voice was soft, almost reflective, as if Haruto's words had given her something considerable to ponder.

The conversation, brief as it was, seemed to forge a new layer in their burgeoning relationship. Haruto's idealism, so starkly different from the calculated composure of Makima, added a new dimension to their dynamic, one that promised to evolve as their mission continued.

Author: How strong is Haruto really?

Will he be able to get along with Makima with these ideals? I read them!