Makima

I'll start with the Miso Soup.

Oh! I can dig it. Mm-hm~

Next, Ginger-Fried Meat and Onions.

That's pretty good!

So this is how you taste, Ms. Makima.

Makima trembled as she fell to her knees, her head cradled between both hands in a futile attempt to silence the world as a guttural scream of pain threatened to escape her throat. Only the self-discipline she had honed over several decades saved her from further humiliation. But despite her efforts, tears streamed down her cheeks, mingling with the raindrops that drenched her form and pelted the ground around her.

The noise of the city was a cacophony that assaulted her ears. The sound of honking cars, the crying of children, and the crashing of raindrops felt as if nuclear bombs were detonating beside her in repetition. Even the slightest of interruptions, whether it was the shift in the sand behind her or the rustling of leaves a city away, reverberated through her skull.

Makima almost wished she would go deaf it meant escaping this misery.

To add to her misfortune, it wasn't just her hearing that was affected. Every sense was in overdrive. Her smell, which had always been exceptional, was now beyond anything she could have imagined. The stench of the ocean salt was so overpowering that it almost felt like she could smell nothing at all. But she was not so fortunate. The rot of the trash, the putrid odor of sweat, and the nauseating scent of decay left her gagging and heaving, her body threatening to expel the empty contents of her stomach.

Desperate for relief, Makima tilted her face towards the sky, hoping that a centered focus could keep her nausea at bay but regretted the decision immediately. Her vision was just another source of torture. When Makima gazed at the Heavens, she found herself staring at the individual grains of sand on the moon, every tiny detail sharp and horrifyingly clear.

All around her, the world continued to swirl and thrum with life, a vibrant but murderous tapestry of sound, scent, and color. She could now understand why those under Halloween's power went insane if this was what awaited them. Makima shook as she desperately tried to regain control of herself. She did not know how much longer she could hold before she too lost her mind.

Makima struggled, as she pieced together her memories, hoping the cognitive toil could provide momentary relief. She thought back, searching for clues as to figure out the cause of her ailment.

Her plan had succeeded… Denji's contract was broken… She had faced Chainsaw Man….

… And she had lost.

Not to the Hero of Hell, but to a boy whose face she could not even recall.

The realization was startling as it was humiliating. So great was the shame of her defeat that she forgot her suffering. Makima laid where she was, kneeling in the rain as the weight of her failures tore apart her heart.

Even the pain was preferable.

But this was not the time to moan and lament. She was still alive. That meant it was not over.

Not yet.

She struggled to rise, her legs shivering in exertion as if she was resisting the weight of the world pressed squarely upon her shoulders.

For any other being, such an intense overload would have shattered every cell in their brain, leaving them writhing in agony.

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But she was the Control Devil.

While her control over others was great, her control over herself was greater still. And most of all, she refused to entertain weakness. Part of it was vanity, but her nature recoiled at the prospect of being seen as a lesser.

Makima gritted her teeth as she fought to regain her composure. The sounds of the world around her were like a million daggers shredding through her orifices, and even the slightest bit of movement intensified the wave of agony.

But she was the Control Devil.

And she would not be controlled by something as mundane as pain.

Counting down from ten, she entered a meditative trance. She closed her eyes, held her breath, and listened only to the beat of her heart. She ignored the clatter of noise, the reek of filth, and the tumultuous chaos of her surroundings. Instead, she turned inwards and found her internal balance.

With every measured beat, Makima felt the ludicrous range of her sense wane as she regained control over her body and mind. With the sheer force of will, what once encompassed multiple cities folded in upon itself until it was only a kilometer radius.

The Control Devil opened her eyes, with a sigh of relief.

But it seemed that she had relaxed far too soon.

The first thing she noticed upon regaining her wits was that she was surrounded by people staring at her in confusion, worry, and caution. She grimaced, feelings of humiliation bursting within her heart at the thought of having seen when she was at her lowest. Makima briefly considered killing them to hide her shame from the rest of the world before she noticed how strange they appeared.

Makima was by no means unfamiliar to strange. She hunted Devils for a living, and her kind came in all matters of weird. But these people… The word "strange" was not enough to describe their utterly bizarre outfits.

One person wore what reminded her of a brown potato sack as a robe and held a wooden stick in his hand like some Tolkien wizard. Another flew in the air, defying gravity while wearing a white dress with what looked like a tiara on her head as if she were a storybook princess. Others were wearing capes and… was that man wearing a spandex?!

If not for the fact that layers and layers of forcefields surrounded her, she would have thought she was at a costume party.

The second thing she noticed was far more devastating, and not just to her vanity. Her contracts were gone—every last one of them. Nothing remained, whether from those she had enslaved or the contracts she had formed with humans. And that, more than anything, shook her to the core. The loss of her contract with the Prime Minister was especially tough to swallow. That single contract had nullified all damage inflicted upon her and was critical to her invincibility. It was the reason why entire nations had given up on facing her. Without it, she could be killed even by ordinary humans.

As Makima contemplated the severity of her situation, she felt a gloved hand grasp her shoulder from the rear. She turned, nearly lashing out in surprise before restraining herself at the last second.

"Are you okay?" Asked a man wearing a white and blue bodysuit, not realizing how close he had been to death.

A domino mask hid his eyes, but Makima could read the concern in his expression. Once again, she was forced to realize just how stupid they looked. The purpose of a mask was to hide a person's identity, but how was a piece of fabric over one's eyes supposed to achieve that?

From the man's accent and the murmurs of the other costumed individuals, she could tell they were American which only added to the number of questions she had. At first, she had assumed that they were Devil Hunters. But while they smelled human, they were not contracted to any Devils, nor were they Devils themselves.

Yet, they displayed abilities well beyond what humans should be capable of.

Surrounded in an unfamiliar environment with unfamiliar people, Makima wisely chose caution.

"Tidal wave incoming!"

With a curse, the man in white and blue took to the skies with several other fliers following suit. Makima turned her head toward the sea and witnessed an enormous wave approaching from miles away. The wave swelled with every meter of distance it crossed.

"Fliers get into position, barriers get ready for impact," he commanded.

Makima could admit that despite his laughable tastes in clothing, he was charismatic enough to lead. Directly above her head, a man in a skin-tight green suit and a heavy hood floated with sickly grey energy emanating from his hands.

All around her, the costumed humans burst into action, whether evacuating the vulnerable or preparing to defend against the coming wave. In comparison, Makima laid on her knees, lost in thought as the waves grew closer and closer. By the looks of it, this was not a simple storm. A storm would have evacuations, not hundreds of super-powered defenders. More likely, these people were here to fight whatever was controlling this wave.

"Hey there pretty, I'm here to get you out of here. Hold on tight," suavely said a grinning man in red spandex as he reached out to grab Makima. Without sparing him a glance, she slapped his arms away, more as a reflex than of any ill intent. Unexpectedly, the moment the back of her hand touched his arms, bones snapped and the confident grin turned into a rigor mortis of pain.

Screaming, the man leaped back; his left arm bent while the other had been blown clean off. Makima's eyes widened in surprise. She had merely tried to brush him off in refusal, not hurt him. She could only stare as the red-suited hero flew away in retreat as blood flowed down with the rain before turning her attention to her own hands.

By all rights, she should have fled. Without her contracts, she was vulnerable. Yet, she did not run. Despite losing a great majority of her abilities and her immortality, she did not feel weak.

No… she had never felt more powerful.

She had not noticed previously due to the overload on her senses and other pressing concerns, but now with her mind cleared and her heart calm, Makima could feel the changes within her body.

It was not just her senses that had become stronger. She intuitively understood that the potency of every ability she possessed as the Control Devil had increased by several orders of magnitude. She could feel the power that thumped in her heart and the strength that burned within her veins.

This world… It was not her own… She realized that now. The fear of Control in her world was minuscule compared to that of this one.

The dread that permeated the very essence of this world was like thick ambrosia to her lips. It was so intoxicating and maddingly sweet that a single taste would send her into euphoric bliss. She savored the flavor and for a moment, she wondered if this was what it was like to be drunk.

She was at her most vulnerable, yet she felt invisible.

All around her, shouts of encouragement and battle cries roared as the wave was now but a hundred meters away. But despite their bravado, they were palpating in fear.

Makima loved every second of it.

She stared in wonder at this new world. She had thought her banishment was a consequence of her defeat but no… This… This was a gift… One that she would fully embrace in this land of wonders.

The Control Devil raised her hand at the incoming tsunami.

"Bang."