Santa Claus

The flickering light of a television illuminated the young girl's face, her eyes fixated on the screen where a caped hero saved the city with unfailing regularity. The episode ended with the hero surrounded by friends, celebrating a birthday, a concept both foreign and fascinating to the girl named Makima. The desire for such a celebration, a normalcy she had never known, sparked within her.

With innocent eagerness, she approached one of her caretakers, the question spilling from her lips. "Can I have a birthday party too?"

The caretaker's response was swift and devoid of warmth, his voice a sharp reprimand. "Stop such foolishness," he chided. "Your only mission is to become the ultimate weapon. The television is corrupting your thoughts."

Dejected, Makima's shoulders slumped as she walked away, her head bowed, the brief spark of childish yearning extinguished by the cold reality of her existence.

Suddenly, Makima's eyes snapped open, pulled from the memory by the transition from sleep to wakefulness. She was sixteen again, the weight of years and experiences temporarily lifted in the drowsy confusion of emerging from a dream. Beside her, Haruto slept soundly, his breathing even and calm, a stark contrast to the turmoil of her thoughts.

They were in Kishibe's office, the surroundings familiar and yet strangely intimate in the quiet of pre-dawn. Makima shifted slightly, her movements careful not to disturb Haruto's slumber, her gaze lingering on his peaceful face. In the soft light of the room, shadows played across his features, softening the lines of the day's earlier tension.

The room was still, the only sound the distant hum of the city as it too began to wake. Makima sat there, lost in thought, the echoes of her dream still resonating within her. The young girl who had once longed for the simple joy of a birthday party was now a formidable Devil Hunter, her desires and dreams shaped by the demands of her destiny.

As Haruto stirred, blinking the sleep from his eyes, he turned to Makima, a sleepy smile gracing his lips. "Hey," he mumbled, his voice rough with sleep. "Did you have a nice nap?"

Makima, still caught in the remnants of her dream, offered a small, wistful smile in return. "It was... enlightening," she replied, her voice soft, a subtle vulnerability peeking through her usually composed exterior.

Haruto, sensing the shift in her mood, sat up, his movements slow as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You okay?" he asked, concern flickering in his eyes as he studied her face.

Makima nodded, her smile becoming more assured as she regained her composure. "I'm fine, just a dream," she assured him, the shadows of her past retreating once more behind the walls she had built around herself.

The two sat in silence for a moment, the unspoken understanding between them a testament to the bond they had formed—a bond that was as complex as it was unexpected. In the quiet of Kishibe's office, they found a rare moment of peace, a respite from the demands of their lives as Devil Hunters.

As Haruto and Makima sat in the peaceful silence of Kishibe's office, the door suddenly swung open, revealing the gruff, weathered face of Kishibe himself. The veteran Devil Hunter strode into the room, a cigarette dangling from his lips, his eyes narrowed as he surveyed the two young hunters.

"Good, you're both here," Kishibe said, his voice gruff as he took a drag from his cigarette. "We've got a new mission for you."

Haruto straightened up, his attention immediately focused on Kishibe's words. "What's the mission?" he asked, his voice eager despite the early hour.

Kishibe tapped the ash from his cigarette into a nearby tray, his gaze shifting between Haruto and Makima. "There's a cult that's been causing trouble," he explained, his tone serious. "They're trying to open a gate to the Underworld. Obviously, they're just a bunch of fanatics, but we can't take any chances. I need you two to investigate."

Haruto's brow furrowed as he processed the information. "A cult trying to open a gate to the Underworld?" he repeated, his voice tinged with disbelief. "That sounds like serious stuff. Why aren't you coming with us, Kishibe?"

Kishibe scoffed, a wry smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I've got other things to take care of," he said, his tone dismissive. "Besides, you two are more than capable of handling this on your own."

Haruto's expression turned indignant, his frustration bubbling to the surface. "That's always the way with you, isn't it, Kishibe?" he said, his voice rising. "You never do anything yourself. You just leave all the work to us."

Makima, sensing the rising tension, placed a calming hand on Haruto's arm. "Haruto," she said, her voice soft but firm. "We can handle this. Kishibe trusts us to get the job done."

Haruto glanced at Makima, his anger deflating slightly under her steady gaze. He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Fine," he said, his tone still tinged with annoyance. "We'll take care of it."

Kishibe nodded, seemingly unfazed by Haruto's outburst. "Good," he said, taking another drag from his cigarette. "I expect a full report when you're done."

With that, Kishibe turned and left the room, leaving Haruto and Makima alone once more. Haruto turned to Makima, his expression a mix of frustration and determination.

"Let's get this over with," he said, his voice resolute. "The sooner we deal with this cult, the better."

Makima nodded, her own expression serious. "Agreed," she said, rising from her seat. "We should get going. The cult won't wait for us."

As they left Kishibe's office, Haruto couldn't help but voice his frustration. "Why do they always give us the boring jobs?" he complained, his steps heavy as they walked down the hallway. "And why do they always send us alone?"

Makima glanced at him, a small smile playing on her lips. "I don't mind," she said, her voice light. "I enjoy spending time with you, Haruto."

Haruto, caught off guard by her words, stumbled, his foot catching on an uneven tile. He lurched forward, arms flailing as he tried to regain his balance. Makima, quick as ever, reached out to steady him, but it was too late. Haruto tumbled to the ground, landing in an undignified heap.

Makima couldn't help but laugh, the sound bright and infectious. Haruto, his face flushed with embarrassment, quickly scrambled to his feet, brushing the dust from his clothes.

"We should hurry," he said, his voice gruff as he tried to regain his composure. "The sooner we get this over with, the better."

Makima nodded, her laughter fading as she pulled a sheet of paper from her pocket. "According to the report," she said, scanning the information, "the cult is operating out of a building on the outskirts of the city."

Haruto sighed, running a hand through his hair. "We should take the subway," he said, already heading towards the exit. "It'll be faster than trying to navigate the streets at this hour."

Makima fell into step beside him, the two of them moving through the early morning bustle of the city. As they walked, Haruto's mind turned to the mission at hand, his brow furrowing with thought.

"Do you think it's really possible?" he asked, glancing at Makima. "Opening a gate to the Underworld?"

Makima's smile remained in place, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes—a hint of knowledge that Haruto couldn't quite place. "It's possible," she said, her voice even. "Difficult, but possible."

Haruto's eyes widened, surprise coloring his features. "The government told you that?" he asked, his voice low.

Makima shook her head, her smile never wavering. "No," she said, her voice almost playful. "I just know."

Haruto stared at her for a moment, trying to decipher the meaning behind her words. But as always, Makima remained an enigma, her true thoughts and feelings hidden behind that ever-present smile.

With a shake of his head, Haruto turned his attention back to the task at hand. The subway station loomed ahead, the promise of their destination drawing closer with each step. Whatever secrets Makima held, whatever knowledge she possessed, Haruto knew that he would have to trust her. In the world of Devil Hunting, trust was a precious commodity, and Makima had earned his, time and time again.

As they boarded the subway, the doors sliding shut behind them, Haruto's attention was drawn to a young girl chatting excitedly with her mother. "Today is going to be amazing because it's my birthday!" the girl exclaimed, her face lit up with pure joy.

Haruto glanced at Makima, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Hey, Makima," he said, his tone casual, "when's your birthday? It would be nice to get you something."

Makima, her smile never faltering, replied, "It's today, actually."

Haruto's eyes widened in surprise. "What? Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his voice rising slightly.

Makima shrugged, her smile still in place. "I don't need to celebrate it," she said, her voice even. "After all, I'm just a weapon."

Haruto frowned, shaking his head. "You're not a weapon, Makima," he said, his tone serious. "Everyone deserves to celebrate their birthday."

Makima tilted her head, her smile unwavering. "That's a human thing," she said, her voice almost dismissive. "It doesn't apply to me."

Haruto, frustration bubbling up inside him, reached out and poked Makima's forehead with his finger, surprising her and causing her stoic smile to falter for a moment. "Stupid," he said, his voice a mix of exasperation and fondness. "You're human too."

Makima blinked, her hand coming up to rub the spot where Haruto had poked her. "I'm a weapon," she repeated, her voice a little less certain than before.

Haruto sighed, leaning back against the subway seat. "Okay, let me ask you something," he said, his eyes fixed on Makima. "What do you think when you see a dog?"

Makima's smile softened slightly. "They're cute," she admitted, her voice a little warmer than usual.

Haruto nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "And what about ice cream? What do you think of that?"

Makima's eyes sparkled with a hint of mischief. "It's delicious," she said, her voice almost playful.

Haruto's smile widened. "And what about when Kishibe farts in his office, thinking no one notices?"

Makima wrinkled her nose, a look of genuine annoyance flashing across her face. "It's disgusting," she said, her voice tinged with distaste.

Haruto laughed, the sound echoing in the subway car. "See?" he said, his voice triumphant. "You think and feel things, just like any other human. That's what makes you human, Makima. Not some arbitrary definition of what a human should be."

Makima's smile faded, her expression turning thoughtful. "I've always thought that being human meant something different," she said, her voice soft. "To me, humanism is about helping others, about putting the needs of the many before the needs of the few. It's about sacrifice and duty, about being a tool for the greater good."

Haruto shook his head, his expression serious. "That's not what being human is about, Makima," he said, his voice gentle but firm. "Being human is about living, about experiencing the world and all it has to offer. It's about feeling joy and sadness, love and anger, and everything in between. It's about being imperfect and making mistakes, but learning and growing from them."

Makima stared at Haruto, her eyes wide and searching. "But what about my purpose?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper. "What about my duty as a Devil Hunter?"

Haruto reached out, taking Makima's hand in his own. "That's a part of who you are," he said, his voice warm and reassuring. "But it's not all of who you are. You're more than just a weapon, Makima. You're a person, with thoughts and feelings and dreams of your own. And you deserve to celebrate your birthday, just like anyone else."

Makima was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on their intertwined hands. When she finally looked up, there was a softness in her eyes that Haruto had never seen before. "Thank you, Haruto," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I think I understand now."

Haruto smiled, giving Makima's hand a gentle squeeze. "Good," he said, his voice warm. "Because as soon as we're done with this mission, we're going to celebrate your birthday properly. With cake and presents and everything."

Makima laughed, the sound bright and genuine. "I think I'd like that," she said, her smile wider and more real than Haruto had ever seen it.

As Kishibe sat in his office, cigarette in hand and newspaper spread out before him, Quanxi burst through the door, her expression a mix of concern and frustration. "Why did you send Haruto and Makima to investigate that cult alone?" she demanded, her voice sharp. "I thought the plan was for all four of us to go together."

Kishibe barely glanced up from his newspaper, taking a long drag from his cigarette. "They're just a bunch of fanatics," he said, his voice dismissive. "Haruto and Makima can handle it."

Quanxi's frown deepened, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "You don't understand," she said, her voice urgent. "Santa Claus is working with them. The most dangerous assassin in the world."

At that, Kishibe finally looked up, his expression unreadable. "It's not a problem," he said, his voice even.

Quanxi's eyes widened in disbelief. "How can you be so sure?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.

Kishibe leaned back in his chair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I've told you before," he said, his voice almost lazy. "Haruto is strong."

Quanxi shook her head, frustration evident in every line of her body. "I know that," she said, her voice tight. "But Santa Claus is in a different league altogether."

Kishibe chuckled, the sound low and rumbling. "I only know a couple of people stronger than him," he said, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Myself, and Haruto's brother."

Quanxi arched an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. "Are you saying that Haruto is stronger than me?" she asked, her voice dangerously low.

Kishibe met her gaze, his smile widening. "If you push him to his limits, if he gets serious and really wants to kill you," he said, his voice almost casual, "he'd wipe the floor with you. Of course, it's hard to get him to that point."

Quanxi stared at Kishibe for a long moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she sighed, shaking her head. "Even so, it's still dangerous," she said, her voice resigned. "Santa Claus is not someone to be taken lightly."

Kishibe nodded, his expression turning serious. "I know," he said, his voice thoughtful. "But I doubt Santa Claus himself is there. It's probably just his lackeys."

Quanxi frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. "Speaking of which," she said, her voice curious, "why does Santa Claus want to open the portal in the first place?"

Kishibe shrugged, taking another drag from his cigarette. "No idea," he said, his voice nonchalant. "Maybe he's bored. Maybe he's got some grand plan. Who knows what goes on in the mind of a man like that?"

Quanxi sighed, running a hand through her silver hair. "I don't like it," she said, her voice low. "Haruto and Makima are strong, but they're still just kids. They shouldn't be facing someone like Santa Claus alone."

Kishibe's expression softened slightly, a hint of understanding in his eyes. "They're not alone," he said, his voice quiet. "They have each other. And they have us, if they need us."

Quanxi was silent for a moment, her gaze fixed on the floor. When she finally looked up, there was a determination in her eyes that hadn't been there before. "You're right," she said, her voice firm. "We'll be there for them, if they need us. But for now, all we can do is trust in their strength and hope for the best."

Kishibe nodded, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "That's all we can ever do," he said, his voice almost wistful. "Trust in the strength of the next generation and hope that they'll be able to handle whatever challenges come their way."

With that, Kishibe turned back to his newspaper, the conversation apparently over. Quanxi stood there for a moment longer, her expression thoughtful, before turning and leaving the office, the door closing softly behind her.

In the silence of the room, Kishibe took another drag from his cigarette, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. "Good luck, Haruto," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "You're going to need it."

As Haruto and Makima made their way through the outskirts of the city, the buildings around them grew increasingly dilapidated, the streets narrower and more run-down. Haruto groaned, his steps slowing as he dragged his feet. "My feet are killing me," he complained, his voice a whine. "How much further do we have to go?"

Makima glanced at him, her expression amused. "We've only been walking for ten minutes," she said, her voice light. "Surely a Devil Hunter like you can handle a little bit of walking."

Haruto pouted, his lower lip sticking out. "Let me be dramatic," he said, his voice petulant. "It's been a long day."

Makima chuckled, shaking her head. "Alright, alright," she said, her voice conciliatory. "But we're almost there. Look, that's the abandoned building where the cult is supposed to be meeting."

Haruto followed her gaze, his eyes landing on a run-down structure that looked like it had seen better days. The windows were boarded up, the walls crumbling and covered in graffiti. Haruto's eyes lit up, a grin spreading across his face. "Finally," he said, his voice eager. "Let's go crash their party."

Without waiting for Makima's response, Haruto took off running towards the building, his feet pounding against the pavement. When he reached the entrance, he didn't bother with the handle, instead kicking the door open with a loud bang.

Inside, the building was dark and musty, the air thick with the smell of dust and decay. Haruto stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room for any signs of the cult. But the room was empty, save for a few pieces of broken furniture and some scattered debris.

Makima followed behind him, her steps more measured and cautious. "It looks like they haven't arrived yet," she said, her voice low.

Haruto shrugged, his grin never faltering. "Then we'll wait for them," he said, his voice confident. "They've got to show up eventually."

Makima frowned, her brow furrowing in thought. "Wouldn't it be better to hide and listen to what they're planning?" she asked, her voice uncertain. "We don't know what they're capable of."

Haruto waved a hand dismissively, his expression nonchalant. "They're probably just a bunch of Satan-worshipping wannabes," he said, his voice dismissive. "Nothing we can't handle."

Makima sighed, her expression resigned. "It's better to be cautious," she said, her voice firm. "We don't want to underestimate them."

Haruto rolled his eyes, but he could see the sense in Makima's words. "Fine," he said, his voice grudging. "We'll hide and see what they're up to."

He glanced around the room, his eyes landing on a large, dusty armoire in the corner. "There," he said, pointing towards it. "We can hide in there and wait for them to show up."

Makima nodded, moving towards the armoire. "Good idea," she said, her voice approving. "It's big enough for both of us."

Haruto followed her, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. "Just don't get any funny ideas while we're in there," he said, his voice teasing. "I know I'm irresistible, but we've got a job to do."

Makima shot him a look, her expression unamused. "Very funny," she said, her voice dry. "Now get in there before they show up."

Haruto chuckled, but he did as he was told, squeezing into the armoire beside Makima. It was a tight fit, their bodies pressed together in the cramped space. Haruto tried not to think about how close they were, tried to focus on the mission at hand.

As the hours ticked by, Haruto's legs began to cramp, the confined space of the armoire taking its toll. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to find a position that would ease the ache in his muscles. "Wouldn't it have been better to hide when we heard a noise?" he whispered, his voice barely audible.

Makima nodded, her expression thoughtful. "You're right," she said, her voice equally low. "We should have waited."

Haruto grimaced, stretching his legs as much as the small space would allow. "I can't feel my legs anymore," he complained, his voice a whine.

Just then, the sound of footsteps and voices echoed through the abandoned building. Haruto and Makima froze, their bodies tense with anticipation. "Looks like we're the first ones here," one of the voices said, the sound growing closer. "Let's wait for the others."

Haruto peered through a small crack in the armoire, his eyes straining to make out the figures in the dim light. To his surprise, they looked like ordinary people, dressed in suits and ties. "Is that them?" Makima whispered, her breath hot against Haruto's ear.

Haruto felt his face flush, the proximity of Makima's body sending a shiver down his spine. "I'm not sure," he said, his voice hoarse.

Makima shifted beside him, her body pressing even closer. "Can we get ice cream after this?" she asked, her voice hopeful.

Haruto barely suppressed a groan, his mind struggling to focus on the task at hand. "Sure," he said, his voice strained. "But let's concentrate on the mission for now."

As the minutes ticked by, more and more people began to arrive, their voices growing louder and more excited. One of them stepped forward, a triumphant grin on his face. "I've brought the final member we needed," he said, his voice booming. "With him, our plan can finally begin."

Haruto's eyes widened as he took in the new arrival. Unlike the others, he was young and dressed in a rockstar outfit, his hair spiked and his eyes lined with dark makeup. "They're just fanatics," Haruto thought to himself, his mind racing.

One of the cult members stepped forward, his voice rising with fervor. "Soon, the portal will open, and with it, the demon of darkness will emerge, creating chaos in the world. This will force Jesus Christ to descend from heaven, bringing about his second coming and ushering in a new era."

Makima frowned, her expression confused. "Who is Jesus Christ?" she asked, her voice low.

Haruto shrugged, his own knowledge of religion limited. "Someone from religion," he said, his voice uncertain. "But I doubt he actually exists."

Makima's frown deepened, her mind struggling to make sense of the cult's words. "Then why are they doing all this?" she asked, her voice puzzled.

Haruto sighed, his expression resigned. "Religious fanatics can be extremely extreme," he said, his voice low. "They believe that bringing about chaos will lead to a greater good, even if it means sacrificing innocent lives in the process."

As Haruto listened to the cult's plans, a sense of unease began to grow in his mind. "Something's not right," he whispered, his brow furrowed in thought. "Their goals seem too ambiguous, too generic. There are too many details missing. Are they really just fanatics, or is there something more going on?"

Suddenly, one of the cult members pulled out a nail and handed it to another, instructing him to stab the new member four times. Makima's eyes widened as she saw the nail, but her smile remained in place, her expression as stoic as ever. "Haruto," she said, her voice calm. "Don't let that nail touch the boy."

As if in response to her words, chains suddenly burst from the ground, wrapping around each member of the cult and trapping them in place. Haruto leapt from the armoire, a Bible clutched in his hand. "Alright, enough of your games," he said, his voice ringing with authority. "It's time for you to be judged."

One of the cult members, the one who had handed over the nails, looked at Haruto with a sneer. "Who the hell are you?" he demanded, his voice dripping with disdain.

Haruto smiled, his expression confident. "Just a mere Devil Hunter," he said, his voice nonchalant.

The man's eyebrow arched, his gaze sliding to Makima behind Haruto. "Aren't you two a little young to be Devil Hunters?" he asked, his voice mocking.

Haruto shrugged, his smile never faltering. "Yes, we are," he said, his voice matter-of-fact.

The chains around the cult members began to glow, a soft light emanating from their links. Haruto opened the Bible, his finger tracing the words on the page. "Playing with God is a grave sin," he said, his voice solemn. "'But whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea.' Matthew 18:6."

Haruto closed the Bible, his expression grave. "It's time for you to pay for your transgressions," he said, his voice heavy with judgment.

But before he could act, an old, slightly obese man entered the building, a chuckle escaping his lips. "Well, well," he said, his voice amused. "It seems I underestimated the Japanese government."

Haruto turned to face the newcomer, his expression wary. "Who are you?" he demanded, his voice sharp.

One of the cult members, still trapped by the chains, let out a cry of relief. "Boss!" he shouted, his voice desperate. "You arrived just in time!"

The old man smiled, his eyes twinkling with mirth. "I don't like to give out my name," he said, his voice casual. "But you can call me Santa Claus."

Haruto's eyebrow arched, his expression incredulous. "What?" he said, his voice disbelieving. "Like the fat guy in the red suit?"

Makima, her smile still in place, spoke up from behind him. "Haruto," she said, her voice calm. "We should stop him. He's one of the most dangerous assassins in the world."

Haruto bit his thumb, his expression determined. "Oh, I will," he said, his voice fierce. "I definitely will."

As the tension in the room reached a fever pitch, the wall behind Santa Claus suddenly exploded in a shower of dust and debris. Through the gaping hole, a horde of grotesque figures emerged, their movements jerky and unnatural, like marionettes controlled by an unseen hand.

Haruto's eyes widened in horror as he realized the truth - these were not demons or devils, but humans, their bodies twisted and corrupted into mindless puppets. They charged forward, their faces contorted in rictus grins, their eyes empty and soulless.

Beside him, Makima's smile never wavered, her voice calm and composed despite the chaos erupting around them. "Haruto," she said, her words a gentle reminder, "don't let them touch you."

Haruto gritted his teeth, his grip tightening on the Bible in his hand. "I won't," he growled, his voice a low promise.

Once again, chains burst from the ground, glowing with an otherworldly light. They whipped through the air like serpents, piercing the chests of the charging puppets. Blood sprayed in crimson arcs, painting the walls and floor in a grisly tableau.

Haruto stared in shock, his mind reeling from the realization. "They were human," he whispered, his voice hollow with disbelief. "Weren't they?"

Santa Claus laughed, the sound harsh and mocking in the sudden stillness. "They were, once," he said, his tone dismissive. "But now they're my playthings, to do with as I please."

As if on cue, more puppets appeared, surging through the hole in the wall like a tidal wave of twisted flesh. But Haruto was ready for them, his chains lashing out in a deadly dance, impaling each one through the heart.

Santa Claus watched, his expression a mix of amusement and grudging respect. "You're strong, I'll give you that," he said, his words a backhanded compliment. "But you're playing with forces beyond your understanding, boy."

Haruto's smile was a sharp, feral thing, his eyes glinting with a light that was not entirely sane. "Shut up," he said, his voice a low snarl.

With a swift motion, he opened the Bible, its pages rustling in the sudden breeze. Biting down hard on his finger, he let a single drop of blood fall onto the yellowed paper, the crimson stain spreading like a blooming flower.

"It's time for you to pass judgment," Haruto intoned, his words a solemn invocation. "Come forth, Demon of the Final Judgment!"

The room began to tremble, the very air seeming to warp and twist around them. From the depths of the Bible, a figure began to emerge, its form shimmering and indistinct at first, like a mirage in the desert heat.

But as it rose, it solidified, taking on a shape that was both terrifying and awe-inspiring. It was a being of pure light and shadow, its body a mass of writhing, feathered wings. Its face was a blank mask, smooth and featureless save for two glowing eyes that seemed to pierce the very soul.

The Demon of the Final Judgment hovered above them, its presence filling the room with a palpable sense of power. It turned its gaze upon Santa Claus, and for the first time, the old assassin's smile faltered, a flicker of fear crossing his face.

Haruto stood tall, his expression one of grim determination. "Your time has come, Santa Claus," he said, his voice ringing with the authority of the divine. "Face the judgment of your sins, and pray for mercy in the afterlife."

As the Demon of the Final Judgment loomed over the battlefield, its presence seeming to warp the very fabric of reality, it extended its own chains towards Santa Claus. The chains, gleaming with an otherworldly light, wrapped around the old assassin's body, binding him tightly.

Suddenly, the ground beneath their feet began to tremble and crack. A portal, pulsing with an eerie red glow, emerged from the depths, the stench of brimstone and sulfur filling the air. Slowly, inexorably, Santa Claus and his minions, along with the twisted human puppets, began to descend into the portal, dragged down by the relentless pull of the Demon's chains.

Santa Claus, despite his predicament, threw back his head and laughed, the sound echoing through the room like the tolling of a funeral bell. "You're an interesting one, boy," he called out, his voice filled with a perverse kind of glee. "What's your name?"

Haruto stood firm, his expression one of grim determination. "I am Haruto Yoshida," he said, his words ringing with a quiet strength.

Santa Claus's eyes widened, his grin stretching into a manic rictus. "You," he breathed, his voice filled with a twisted kind of ecstasy, "you will be my next puppet. You go beyond the perfect marionette."

Haruto's jaw clenched, his grip tightening on the Bible in his hand. "No, thanks," he said, his words clipped and final.

As the last of Santa Claus's minions disappeared into the portal, their screams of terror echoing in the sudden stillness, the old assassin himself vanished from view, his laughter still ringing in Haruto's ears. The portal pulsed once, twice, and then sealed itself, the ground knitting back together as if it had never been torn asunder.

The Demon of the Final Judgment, its task complete, began to fade, its form growing indistinct and translucent until it vanished entirely, leaving only a faint shimmer in the air where it had once been.

Haruto let out a long, shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping with exhaustion. "It's over," he said, his voice heavy with relief. "It's finally over."

But Makima, her smile never wavering, shook her head. "No," she said, her words soft but insistent. "It's not over yet."

Haruto turned to her, his brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?" he asked, his voice tinged with weariness.

Makima's eyes glinted with a strange, knowing light. "Santa Claus operates through puppets," she said, her words measured and calm. "The one we faced here was not the real one. The true Santa Claus is said to be hidden somewhere in Europe."

Haruto sighed, his shoulders slumping even further. "Even so," he said, his voice filled with a grim kind of satisfaction, "we stopped what was happening here. That's what matters."

Makima's smile widened, a hint of mischief dancing in her eyes. "True," she said, her voice light and playful. "And now, I believe you owe me an ice cream."

Haruto blinked, taken aback by the sudden change in topic. But then, slowly, a smile spread across his face, the tension draining from his body as he let out a soft chuckle.

"You're right," he said, shaking his head ruefully. "A promise is a promise, after all."

And with that, the two Devil Hunters turned and walked away, leaving the abandoned building and its dark secrets behind them. The battle was won, but the war was far from over. And yet, in that moment, all that mattered was the simple pleasure of a shared ice cream, a brief respite in the endless struggle against the forces of darkness.

As the night descended upon Tokyo, the city's neon lights casting a kaleidoscope of colors across the bustling streets, Haruto walked beside Makima, a birthday cake balanced carefully in his hands. Makima, her attention focused on the ice cream she was enjoying, seemed lost in thought, her expression as stoic as ever.

"Are we really going to celebrate my birthday?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of curiosity.

Haruto nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. "A promise is a promise," he said, his voice warm and sincere.

Makima tilted her head, a question forming in her eyes. "Where will we do it?" she inquired, her words soft and measured. "I live in the agency itself, after all."

Haruto's smile widened, a hint of excitement dancing in his eyes. "At my apartment," he said, his voice filled with a quiet kind of pride. "It's small, but it's cozy."

They approached a humble building, its facade worn but well-maintained. Climbing the stairs, they made their way to Haruto's apartment, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the narrow hallway.

As they stepped inside, Makima's lips curved into a mischievous smile, her eyes glinting with a playful light. "So we'll be alone, then?" she asked, her voice a low, teasing purr. "How naughty of you, Haruto."

Haruto's face flushed a deep crimson, his composure cracking under Makima's relentless teasing. "It's not the first time we've been alone together," he mumbled, his words stumbling over each other in his embarrassment. "Remember the village?"

Makima tapped a finger against her chin, her expression one of exaggerated contemplation. "Ah, yes," she said, her voice filled with a wicked kind of glee. "I thought I was going to lose my virginity that time."

Haruto, his face now resembling an overripe tomato, stumbled, nearly dropping the cake in his flustered state. He managed to save it at the last moment, his heart pounding in his chest.

Makima's smile widened, her eyes dancing with mirth. "Careful with the cake, Haruto," she chided, her voice filled with mock concern.

Haruto shot her a look of pure exasperation, his face still burning with embarrassment. "Stop saying things like that!" he grumbled, his words half-hearted at best.

Makima laughed, the sound bright and carefree in the quiet of the apartment. Haruto, still grumbling under his breath, set the cake down on the table, rummaging in his bag for a moment before pulling out a candle and a birthday hat.

"Happy 17th birthday," he said, his voice soft and sincere as he placed the hat atop Makima's head.

Makima's smile softened, a genuine warmth spreading across her face. "Thank you, Haruto," she said, her words filled with a quiet kind of gratitude. "When is your birthday, by the way?"

Haruto ducked his head, his cheeks flushing once more. "It's today, too," he mumbled, his voice barely audible.

Makima's eyes widened, surprise flickering across her features. "Why didn't you say anything?" she asked, her voice filled with a gentle kind of reproach.

Haruto shrugged, his expression one of sheepish embarrassment. "I don't like going around announcing my birthday," he said, his words a low mumble.

Makima stepped forward, wrapping her arms around Haruto in a tight embrace. "Happy birthday, Haruto," she whispered, her voice filled with a warm kind of affection.

Haruto stiffened for a moment, his body tense with nervous energy. But then, slowly, he relaxed into the hug, his own arms coming up to wrap around Makima's waist.

"Happy birthday to you too, Makima," he said, his voice soft and filled with a quiet kind of joy.

And there they stood, two Devil Hunters celebrating a shared birthday, their bond stronger than ever in the face of the darkness they fought every day. In that moment, the world outside faded away, and all that mattered was the simple, perfect happiness of being together, of knowing that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would face them side by side, now and always.

Author's Note:

Hi guys! It's been a while... I'm sorry I stopped updating, but honestly I had lost the will to write, but I've recovered it and I even have several chapters already written, so expect more constant updates! Thanks for your support