Beer and sex

Haruto stood in front of the door to his old apartment, his hand running through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "Damn it," he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation. "It's been eight years. Of course someone else is living here now. And I have no idea where Makima is staying these days."

With a sigh, he turned and started walking towards the agency, his mind racing with possibilities. "Maybe Quanxi is still there," he mused, his footsteps echoing in the quiet of the evening. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and gold, a contrast to the turmoil that churned within him.

"I slept in a goddamn park last night," Haruto grumbled, his voice laced with irritation. "I really hope I don't have to do that again tonight."

He entered the agency as if he owned the place, his stride confident and purposeful. But as he looked around, he realized that something felt different, off in a way he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Shaking off the feeling, Haruto made his way to his old office, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and dread. When he opened the door, he found a stranger sitting at his desk, a young man with a nervous, almost skittish demeanor.

"Who are you?" Haruto asked, his voice sharp and demanding.

The man looked up, his eyes widening with surprise and a hint of fear. "I'm Yami," he said, his words stumbling over each other in his haste to respond. "How can I help you?"

Haruto frowned, his patience wearing thin. "Where's Quanxi?" he asked, his tone brooking no argument.

Yami shook his head, his expression apologetic. "I'm sorry, I don't know anyone by that name."

Haruto's frown deepened, a flicker of annoyance passing over his features. "What about Makima?" he asked, his voice tight with barely contained frustration.

At this, Yami's face lit up with recognition. "Oh, you mean the head of Division 4? She should be at her headquarters."

Haruto's mind raced, trying to make sense of this new information. "Division 4?" he repeated, his brow furrowed in thought. Then, with a sudden flash of insight, he nodded. "Oh, I think I know where that is. Thanks!"

And with that, he was gone, leaving a bewildered Yami in his wake. The young man sighed, shaking his head in confusion. He had no idea who this aggressive stranger was, but he was glad to see the back of him.

Haruto walked and walked, cursing under his breath at his lack of money for transportation. Finally, after what felt like hours, he arrived at his destination - a building that looked slightly run-down, as if it had seen better days.

He entered, making his way to what he assumed was the central office. On the way, he caught sight of himself in a mirror, taking a moment to assess his appearance. His hair, though crudely cut by his own hand, was at least presentable, and his beard was gone, shaved away with the same makeshift tools. It was the best he could do, given his complete lack of funds.

Taking a deep breath, Haruto knocked on the door. "It's open," came the familiar voice from within, a sound that sent a shiver down his spine and a rush of memories flooding through his mind.

He stepped inside, his footsteps heavy on the worn carpet. And there, sitting behind the desk, was Makima, her face as inscrutable as ever, her smile as enigmatic as it had always been.

"Haruto," she said, her voice calm and even, betraying no hint of surprise or emotion. "You've returned."

Haruto sat down opposite her, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yeah," he said, his voice rough with a mix of exhaustion and relief. "It took me a while."

Makima tilted her head, her eyes boring into his with an intensity that made him want to look away. "Where have you been?" she asked, her words precise and measured.

Haruto swallowed hard, the memories of his time in Hell threatening to overwhelm him. "In the Underworld," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

If Makima was surprised by this revelation, she didn't show it. "How did you end up there?" she asked, her tone clinical and detached.

Haruto's jaw clenched, a sudden surge of anger rising in his chest. "Santa Claus and the Prime Minister betrayed me," he said, his words sharp and bitter. "I'm going to kill them."

At this, Makima's smile widened, a gesture that sent a chill down Haruto's spine. "Do as you wish with Santa Claus," she said, her voice calm and unconcerned. "But I have a contract with the Prime Minister that I'd like to maintain."

Haruto's eyebrow arched, a flicker of surprise passing over his features. There was something different about Makima, something colder and more calculating than he remembered. It was like when he had first met her, but amplified, sharpened to a razor's edge.

He scratched his head, a gesture of confusion and unease. "Alright, whatever you say," he said, his words hesitant and uncertain.

Makima's smile never wavered, her eyes glinting with a light that was both alluring and dangerous. "Haruto, you're still a Devil Hunter, aren't you?" she asked, her voice soft and silky.

Haruto blinked, caught off guard by the question. "I guess so," he said, his words trailing off into silence.

Makima's smile widened, a predatory gleam in her eyes. "Good. Then welcome to Special Division 4."

Haruto's eyebrow arched again, a mix of gratitude and confusion warring on his features. "Thanks, I guess," he said, his voice hesitant.

Suddenly, without warning, Makima leaned in close, her lips capturing his in a searing, passionate kiss. Their tongues danced and intertwined, a rush of heat and desire that left them both breathless and panting when they finally parted.

"Tell me, Haruto," Makima whispered, her voice low and seductive, "don't you want to be my dog?"

Haruto's eyes widened, shock and disbelief written plainly on his face. "What? What are you talking about?" he asked, his voice shaking with a mix of confusion and apprehension.

Makima pulled back, her smile still in place, her eyes glinting with a dark, mysterious light. "Just joking, Haruto," she said, her voice light and airy, as if nothing had happened.

But Haruto couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to her words, more to that kiss, than she was letting on. His mind raced with questions, with doubts and uncertainties that he couldn't quite put into words.

Why wasn't she asking him more about his time away? Did she miss him at all? What did that kiss mean, really? He was more confused than ever, his heart and mind a swirling maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

Makima, seemingly oblivious to his inner turmoil, continued on as if nothing had happened. "There's actually a welcome party at a restaurant bar tonight," she said, her voice casual and unconcerned. "The one that serves the fried chicken I like. I'd like you to come, to meet the team."

Haruto nodded, his mind still reeling from the sudden shifts in Makima's demeanor. "Alright, I guess," he said, his words hesitant and uncertain.

Makima reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of cash, pressing it into Haruto's hand. "I'll be waiting for you at the bar," she said, her voice soft and commanding. "Go get your hair cut properly."

Haruto reached up, running his fingers through his crudely shorn locks. "Does it really look that bad?" he asked, a flicker of self-consciousness passing over his features.

But Makima didn't answer. She simply turned and walked out of the room, leaving Haruto alone with his thoughts, his doubts, and the lingering taste of her kiss on his lips.

As he sat there, the silence of the office pressing in on him from all sides, Haruto couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly, fundamentally wrong. Makima had changed, in ways that he couldn't quite comprehend, and the world around him felt alien and unfamiliar, as if he were a stranger in his own life.

Inside the bustling restaurant bar, Denji was intently studying the menu when a sudden thought struck him. He turned to Himeno, his eyes alight with a mischievous glint. "Hey, what about that kiss you promised?" he asked, his voice tinged with eagerness.

Himeno, a playful smile tugging at her lips, leaned in closer. "Well, when I'm sober, it makes me a bit hesitant," she said, her words slightly slurred. "Let me drink a bit more, and I'll give you that kiss."

Denji's face split into a wide grin, his excitement palpable. "Awesome! I'm finally going to kiss someone!" he exclaimed, his voice a little too loud in the crowded space.

Just then, Makima arrived, her presence commanding attention as she approached the table. "Denji, who are you going to kiss?" she asked, her voice soft but laden with curiosity.

Denji's eyes widened, a flush creeping up his neck. "N-no one!" he stammered, his gaze darting away from Makima's piercing stare.

Himeno, her brow furrowed in confusion, turned to Denji. "Eh? You're not going to kiss me?" she asked, her voice tinged with a hint of disappointment.

Denji, caught between his promise to Himeno and his sudden nervousness in Makima's presence, blurted out, "Of course I will!"

Aki, the man with the sleek ponytail, shifted to make room at the table. "Please, have a seat here, Miss Makima," he said, gesturing to the empty spot beside him.

Makima gracefully lowered herself onto the cushion, her movements fluid and precise. The group settled into easy conversation, the minutes slipping by as they enjoyed each other's company.

Suddenly, Aki's voice cut through the chatter, his tone serious and probing. "Miss Makima, I've been wondering... why the particular interest in Denji?"

Makima's lips curved into an enigmatic smile, her eyes glinting with a mysterious light. "I'll tell you," she said, her voice a silky purr, "if you can beat me in a drinking contest."

Without hesitation, Aki signaled for another round of beers, his face set with determination. As the drinks arrived, a figure approached the table, drawing everyone's attention.

Makima's smile widened as she recognized the newcomer. "Welcome," she said, her voice warm and inviting. She rose to her feet, turning to address the group. "I'd like you all to meet Haruto Yoshida, a new member of Division 4."

Haruto nodded, his expression polite but guarded. "Nice to meet you all," he said, his voice low and even.

Denji, his eyes widening with recognition, leaped to his feet. "Hey, you're that guy who gave me a wad of cash!" he exclaimed, pointing at Haruto with an excited grin.

Haruto, his brow furrowing slightly, shook his head. "Sorry, I don't really remember. It was a long time ago, I guess."

Kobeni, her voice soft and hesitant, chimed in. "You're that famous Devil Hunter, aren't you? The one who was always on the news when I was a kid."

Haruto shrugged, his expression neutral. "I suppose so," he said, his words noncommittal.

Makima, her smile never wavering, gestured to the empty spot beside her. "Haruto, I saved you a seat next to mine," she said, her voice warm and inviting.

As they took their seats, Makima leaned in closer to Haruto, her fingers brushing against his hair. "I ordered the yakimeshi you like," she murmured, her breath hot against his ear. "It should be here soon."

Haruto, a flicker of surprise passing over his features, nodded. "Thanks," he said, his voice rough with emotion.

Makima's fingers lingered in his hair, her touch gentle and intimate. "I like this haircut better," she said, her voice soft and approving.

Haruto, a hint of embarrassment coloring his cheeks, shrugged. "Well, I did the other one myself," he admitted, his words tinged with self-deprecation.

Makima's smile only widened, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection. As the waitress arrived with Haruto's dish, he wasted no time digging in, his hunger overtaking any sense of decorum.

It had been eight long years since he had tasted real food, and the flavors exploded on his tongue like a symphony of deliciousness. He devoured the plate in record time, already signaling for another serving.

Makima, her expression indulgent, reached out and gently wiped a stray grain of rice from the corner of Haruto's mouth. "Haruto, manners," she chided, her voice soft but firm.

Denji, who had been watching the exchange with a growing sense of unease, couldn't contain his curiosity any longer. "Hey, Makima," he blurted out, his voice tinged with a hint of jealousy, "what is he to you?"

Makima tilted her head, her smile never faltering. "Isn't it obvious?" she asked, her voice light and airy. "He's my boyfriend."

A stunned silence fell over the table, everyone's eyes widening in shock. Aki, struggling to maintain his composure, cleared his throat. "Why didn't you mention you had a boyfriend?" he asked, his voice strained.

Makima shrugged, her expression innocent. "Because no one asked," she said simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Power, unable to contain herself, burst into laughter. "And the idiot womanizer had a crush on Makima!" she crowed, her voice filled with gleeful mockery.

Denji's face flushed a deep red, his gaze darting to Power as he silently pleaded for her to stop. Himeno, her expression thoughtful, mused aloud, "Why does everyone love Miss Makima?"

Power, her grin wide and mischievous, simply shrugged, her eyes sparkling with mirth. The rest of the team sat in stunned silence, their gazes shifting between Makima and Haruto as they tried to process this new information.

Haruto, for his part, seemed unfazed by the revelation, his focus entirely on the delicious food before him. As he finished his second helping, he leaned back, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

"That was amazing," he said, his voice filled with sincere appreciation. "I can't remember the last time I had a meal this good."

Makima, her smile softening, reached out and laced her fingers with Haruto's. "I'm glad you enjoyed it," she said, her voice warm and affectionate. "There's plenty more where that came from."

Denji, his jealousy momentarily forgotten, perked up at the mention of more food. "Really?" he asked, his eyes wide and hopeful. "Can I have some too?"

Makima laughed, the sound like tinkling bells in the crowded restaurant. "Of course, Denji," she said, her voice indulgent. "Order whatever you like. It's my treat tonight."

One of the Division 4 members turned his gaze to Haruto, his expression skeptical. "Hey, rookie," he said, his voice dripping with condescension, "it's customary for you to introduce yourself properly. Your age and your contracted demon, if you please."

Haruto met the man's stare, his eyes narrowing slightly, but before he could respond, Makima interjected, her smile never wavering. "Haruto is not a rookie," she said, her voice calm but firm. "As Kobeni mentioned, he was a Devil Hunter alongside me when we were younger."

Haruto, a flicker of amusement passing over his features, couldn't resist adding, "I'm still young, you know."

Makima, her eyes twinkling with mirth, playfully nudged him. "You're 26 now, Haruto. Hardly a spring chicken."

The divisive member, his face flushing with a mix of embarrassment and irritation, pressed on. "With all due respect, Miss Makima, he's still new to our division. He needs to respect the hierarchy here."

Makima's smile took on a sharper edge, her eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Let me make this crystal clear," she said, her voice sweet but laced with steel. "Haruto could wipe the floor with all of you. Your rules don't apply to him."

A tense silence fell over the table, the air thick with unspoken challenges and shifting power dynamics. Haruto, sensing the discomfort, reached out and gently touched Makima's shoulder. "It's alright," he said, his voice soft and reassuring. "No need to make a fuss."

Turning to address the group, Haruto cleared his throat. "I'm Haruto Yoshida, 26 years old. I enjoy watching television and, hmm, I suppose that's about it. As for my demons, I'm contracted with the Demon of Final Judgment and the Fire Demon."

A collective gasp rippled through the team, their eyes widening with a mix of awe and trepidation. The Fire Demon and a biblical demon - just how much power did Haruto wield?

Makima, her gaze intense and probing, leaned in closer. "So, you formed a contract with the Fire Demon," she mused, her voice filled with genuine interest. "That's how you managed to escape Hell, isn't it?"

Haruto nodded, a small, proud smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Yeah, it was a recent development. The Fire Demon's power is what allowed me to break free."

Power, unable to contain herself, burst into laughter. "Stop showing off, you womanizing fool," she cackled, her voice filled with gleeful mockery. "You're nothing compared to me!"

Aki, his expression long-suffering, sighed. "Just ignore her, Haruto. Power is a demon with a certain level of intelligence, but she can be rather... grating at times."

Haruto, his eyebrows raising in surprise, turned to Aki. "Intelligence? This is the first time I've encountered a demon quite this annoying."

Just then, a commotion drew everyone's attention. Himeno, her face flushed with alcohol and her eyes glazed, had suddenly pulled Denji into a sloppy, passionate kiss. Makima, her eyes widening in surprise, couldn't help but let out a small gasp.

Denji, his mind reeling from the sudden intimacy, could feel Himeno's tongue exploring his mouth, the taste of alcohol strong on her breath. But just as quickly as it had begun, the moment took a turn for the worse.

Himeno, her stomach rebelling against the copious amounts of alcohol she had consumed, abruptly vomited, the foul-smelling liquid splattering across Denji's face and chest. Power, nearly falling out of her chair with laughter, could barely contain her glee at the disgusting spectacle.

"The idiot won't let any nutrients go to waste!" she howled, tears of mirth streaming down her face as Denji, without hesitation, began to slurp up the vomit, his face a mask of determination.

Haruto, his nose wrinkling in disgust, couldn't help but agree. "That's revolting," he muttered, his stomach churning at the sight.

One of the other Devil Hunters, taking pity on the vomit-covered Denji, quickly ushered him towards the bathroom, promising to help him clean up. Haruto, shaking his head in disbelief, turned to Makima.

"I definitely didn't see that coming," he said, his voice tinged with a mix of amusement and revulsion.

Makima, a mischievous glint in her eye, leaned in close and nipped playfully at Haruto's earlobe. "What do you say we head back to my place?" she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

Haruto, his heart skipping a beat at the intimate gesture, looked at her in surprise. "You want to leave already?" he asked, his voice low and slightly breathless.

Makima nodded, her smile turning seductive. She signaled for the waiter, her voice ringing out clear and confident. "I'll be covering everyone's bill tonight," she announced, her generosity met with a chorus of grateful cheers.

Kobeni, her face splitting into a wide grin, raised her glass in a toast. "Thank you so much, Miss Makima!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with sincere appreciation. "Food always tastes better when it's free!"

The waiter, appearing as if summoned by Makima's words, quickly brought over the check. Makima, without hesitation, pulled out her wallet and paid the hefty sum, her smile never faltering.

As she and Haruto stood to leave, Makima turned to the group, her hand resting lightly on Haruto's arm. "We'll see you all later," she said, her voice warm but laced with an unmistakable undercurrent of anticipation.

The team, their faces a mix of surprise, envy, and amusement, bid the couple farewell, their voices ringing out in a cacophony of well-wishes and good-natured teasing. Denji, having returned from the bathroom, his face still slightly pale from his ordeal, couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy as he watched Haruto and Makima leave together, their bodies close and their eyes filled with a promise of intimacy.

As they stepped out into the cool night air, Haruto felt a shiver run down his spine, a sense of anticipation and desire building in his chest. After all the horrors he had endured, all the pain and suffering and loneliness, the simple act of walking beside Makima, of feeling her warmth and her presence, was like a balm to his battered soul.

He couldn't help but marvel at the twists and turns his life had taken, at the incredible journey that had brought him to this moment. From the depths of Hell to the streets of Tokyo, from the brink of despair to the promise of a new beginning...

It was almost too much to comprehend, too much to believe. But as he felt Makima's hand slip into his, her fingers intertwining with his own, he knew that it was real, that this moment, this night, was a gift he would cherish for the rest of his days.

And as they walked through the neon-lit streets, the sounds of the city a distant hum in their ears, Haruto couldn't help but feel a sense of hope rising in his chest, a flicker of light in the darkness that had for so long consumed him.

Maybe, just maybe, he could find his way back to the life he had once known, to the happiness and purpose that had been so cruelly ripped away from him. Maybe, with Makima by his side, he could face the demons of his past and emerge stronger, better, more alive than ever before.

It was a daunting prospect, a challenge that would test him to his very limits. But as he felt the warmth of Makima's hand in his, the soft brush of her body against his own...

As Makima pushed open the door to her apartment, a flurry of furry bodies burst forth, their excited barks filling the air. A pack of huskies, their tails wagging and their tongues lolling, bounded up to their mistress, their eyes shining with adoration.

Haruto, his eyebrows raised in surprise, couldn't help but chuckle. "I didn't realize you had become such a dog enthusiast," he said, his voice filled with warmth and a hint of nostalgia.

Makima, her smile enigmatic, reached down to pat one of the dogs on the head. "They're obedient and loyal," she said, her voice soft but filled with a quiet certainty. "I appreciate those qualities."

With a gentle tug, Makima led Haruto down the hallway, her fingers intertwined with his. "My bedroom is this way," she murmured, her voice low and filled with unspoken promises.

As they crossed the threshold, the door clicking shut behind them, Haruto felt a rush of desire surge through his body. In an instant, they were in each other's arms, their lips meeting in a passionate, hungry kiss that spoke of years of pent-up longing and unfulfilled desire.

Clothes were shed in a frenzy of grasping hands and desperate tugs, their bodies coming together like two halves of a whole, finally reunited after an eternity apart. They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and gasping breaths, their skin flushed and their hearts pounding in unison.

Haruto, his fingers trembling with anticipation, slipped a hand between Makima's thighs, his touch gentle but insistent. She gasped, her back arching off the bed as he began to explore her most intimate places, his movements slow and deliberate.

"Haruto," she breathed, her voice hitching with pleasure, "it's been so long since I've felt like this. Since I've felt so... alive."

With a fluid, graceful movement, Makima shifted position, her lips trailing kisses down Haruto's chest and stomach until she reached his throbbing manhood. She took him into her mouth, her tongue swirling and teasing, drawing out soft groans of ecstasy from Haruto's throat.

After a moment, Makima pulled back, her hand still wrapped around Haruto's length, stroking him with a maddeningly slow rhythm. "Tell me," she purred, her voice husky with desire, "what did you think of your new team? Division 4?"

Haruto, his mind foggy with pleasure, struggled to form a coherent thought. "I miss the old days," he admitted, his voice rough and low. "When it was just you, me, Quanxi, and Kishibe. We were a family then."

Makima smiled, a soft, knowing expression that sent shivers down Haruto's spine. Without a word, she dipped her head back down, taking him deep into her throat, her movements becoming more urgent, more insistent.

Haruto, his body tensing with the building pressure, gasped out a warning. "Makima, I'm going to... I can't hold back..."

But Makima didn't pull away. Instead, she redoubled her efforts, her lips and tongue working in tandem to bring Haruto to a shuddering, explosive climax. She swallowed every drop, her throat working as she drank down his essence like the finest wine.

When she finally pulled back, her lips swollen and glistening, she fixed Haruto with a smoldering gaze. "I hope you're still ready for more," she purred, her voice filled with wanton desire.

With a fluid, catlike movement, Makima straddled Haruto's hips, guiding him to her entrance. They both gasped as she sank down onto him, their bodies joining in a moment of perfect, exquisite bliss.

Makima began to move, her hips rising and falling in a steady, relentless rhythm. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their gasps and moans, the slap of flesh against flesh.

As she rode him, Makima's voice took on a distant, almost dreamlike quality. "While you were gone, Haruto, I tried to build the kind of world you always wanted. A world of peace, where justice reigned supreme."

She paused, her words cut off by a sharp, keening cry of pleasure. Haruto thrust up into her, his hands gripping her hips, urging her on.

"To create that world," Makima continued, her voice breathy and strained, "there can be no war, no hunger, no needless death. But to achieve that..."

She trailed off, her eyes fluttering closed as a particularly intense wave of pleasure washed over her. "Harder, Haruto," she gasped, her nails digging into his chest. "Please, it's been so long..."

Haruto complied, his hips snapping up to meet her downward thrusts, their bodies moving in perfect synchronicity. Makima's words echoed in his mind, a tantalizing glimpse of a greater plan, a higher purpose.

Suddenly, Makima stilled above him, her gaze boring into his with an intensity that stole his breath. "Tell me, Haruto," she said, her voice cold and sharp as a knife's edge, "can I count on your help in this endeavor? Or will you be just another obstacle in my path?"

Haruto's mind raced, a thousand questions burning on his tongue. But he knew, with a sinking certainty, that if he pushed too hard, if he demanded answers before Makima was ready to give them...

He might lose her forever, might shatter this fragile, precious moment of reconnection. And so, with a deep, steadying breath, he met her gaze, his eyes filled with a fierce, unwavering loyalty.

"I'm with you, Makima," he said, his voice low and fervent. "Always and forever. No matter what."

Makima's smile was blinding, a flash of genuine joy that lit up her entire face. She began to move again, her pace increasing, her breaths coming in short, sharp gasps.

"I'm so glad, Haruto," she panted, her voice filled with a dark, exultant triumph. "Now, make me come. Make me yours, body and soul."

Their movements became frantic, desperate, their bodies striving towards the ultimate pinnacle of pleasure. And when it hit, when the wave of ecstasy crashed over them both, they clung to each other, their cries mingling in a symphony of blissful release.

Afterwards, as they lay tangled in the sheets, their skin slick with sweat and their chests heaving with exertion, Makima pressed a soft, tender kiss to Haruto's forehead.

"Welcome back, my love," she whispered, her voice filled with a quiet, contented joy.

Haruto, his mind still reeling from the intensity of their lovemaking, could only nod, his throat too tight with emotion to speak.

But even as he lay there, basking in the warmth of Makima's embrace, a flicker of unease began to grow in the pit of his stomach. Something was different about Makima, something that went beyond the natural changes that eight years apart might bring.

There was a coldness to her, a ruthless, calculating edge that sent a shiver down Haruto's spine. And her words, her cryptic talk of building a new world order...

What did it all mean? What was she planning, and how did he fit into her grand design?

Haruto knew, with a sinking certainty, that he needed answers, needed to understand the true nature of the woman he had given his heart to. And there was only one person he could think of who might be able to provide those answers.

Kishibe. His old mentor, his father figure, the man who had trained him and guided him through the darkest days of his life as a Devil Hunter. If anyone could help him unravel the mystery that was Makima...

It would be him.

And so, even as he drifted off to sleep, his body sated and his heart full, Haruto's mind was already racing ahead, already planning his next move.

He would find Kishibe, would seek out the truth, no matter how painful or shocking it might be. For he knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that the fate of the world itself might depend on it.

The fate of the world... and the fate of his own battered, weary soul.