3
Chapter 5: New Arrangements (Continued)
"It was painful," Jeanne acknowledged with remarkable serenity, "but I never doubted my faith or my mission. In those final moments, I understood that some purposes transcend mortal suffering."
"That's... intense," Denji said, struggling to find adequate words for her martyrdom. "I can't imagine having that kind of conviction."
"You might be surprised," Jeanne replied with a gentle smile. "Your bond with Pochita demonstrates considerable loyalty and faith, even in your harsh circumstances."
Denji glanced at his chainsaw partner, who was contentedly gnawing on a piece of meat Raikou had set aside for him. "That's different. Pochita and I just look out for each other."
"Bonds forged in adversity often prove the strongest," Jeanne observed. "Whether between a girl and her saints or a boy and his devil."
"And you?" Denji turned to Raikou, who had been quietly serving additional portions as the others spoke. "What's your story?"
Raikou's expression shifted subtly, maternal warmth momentarily overshadowed by something darker. "Mine is a tale of duty and bloodlines. I led the Four Heavenly Kings in ancient Japan, protecting the capital from supernatural threats. But my lineage was... complicated."
"Complicated how?" Denji asked, sensing there was much more beneath her careful phrasing.
"My bloodline contained oni heritage—demon blood that granted power but threatened my humanity," Raikou explained, her voice steady despite the difficult subject. "I spent my life balancing these opposing natures while fulfilling my responsibilities to the people."
"You're part demon?" Denji looked at her with new interest. "That explains some things."
"Oh?" Raikou raised an elegant eyebrow.
"Your maternal instincts are kind of... intense," Denji explained awkwardly. "And sometimes there's this scary undertone when you talk about protecting people. It's like watching a thunderstorm gather behind your eyes."
Rather than being offended, Raikou smiled. "Perceptive child. Yes, my protective instincts carry the intensity of both human devotion and oni possessiveness. I consider those under my care to be my children, and I will eliminate anything that threatens them—with extreme prejudice if necessary."
"That's both comforting and terrifying," Denji admitted. "But mostly comforting, since you're on my side."
"Always," Raikou assured him, the word carrying the weight of an unbreakable vow.
"So we've got an emperor, a king, a saint, and a demon-blooded warrior," Denji summarized, looking around at his extraordinary companions. "All legendary heroes summoned accidentally by a nobody devil hunter with bad credit."
"Perhaps not so accidental," Jeanne suggested thoughtfully. "The summoning circle responded to you specifically, drawing forth Servants who complement your situation and nature."
"Umu! The Emperor believes in destiny rather than coincidence!" Nero declared grandly. "Our magnificent gathering was clearly ordained by fate itself!"
"Or by a complex magical ritual with specific resonance patterns," Artoria offered more pragmatically. "Either way, the connection has been established. We are bound to you as Master, and you to us as our anchor in this world."
Denji absently traced the Command Seals on his hand—the red markings that symbolized his authority over these legendary beings. "And these let me order you around? Even against your will?"
"In essence," Artoria confirmed. "Though such absolute commands should be reserved for true emergencies. Once used, a Command Seal cannot be recovered."
"I don't think I'd want to force any of you to do something you didn't want to," Denji said honestly. "Seems wrong, somehow."
"A commendable attitude," Jeanne smiled approvingly. "The strongest Master-Servant bonds are built on mutual respect rather than compulsion."
"Umu! The Emperor always performs best when properly appreciated rather than commanded!" Nero added with a wink. "Though a bit of commanding can be exciting in the right context!"
Denji flushed slightly at her suggestive tone, quickly changing the subject. "So what's the plan for tomorrow? More devil hunting?"
"We should establish contact with the yakuza first," Artoria suggested. "Confirm our new arrangement and identify priority targets."
"And begin investigating the residential areas for independent contracts," Jeanne added. "Building a secondary income stream would provide greater security and autonomy."
"But first, proper rest in our new headquarters," Raikou insisted, maternal authority returning to her voice. "Even Heroic Spirits benefit from recovery time."
As the evening progressed, they established a watch rotation similar to the previous night, though the more secure location allowed for a more relaxed schedule. Pochita, exhausted from the day's excitement, had already curled up on Denji's futon, tiny chainsaw snores marking his deep sleep.
While Artoria took first watch at the main entrance and Nero organized what she insisted on calling the "imperial sleeping quarters," Denji found himself momentarily alone with Jeanne near the kitchen area.
"Can I ask you something?" he said quietly, mindful of Raikou straightening things nearby. "Something that's been bothering me."
"Of course, Master," Jeanne replied warmly.
"Why are you all being so nice to me?" The question emerged more vulnerable than he'd intended. "I mean, I get that there's this Master-Servant thing, but you're all... I don't know, going above and beyond. Finding me an apartment, cooking meals, negotiating with the yakuza. It feels like more than just magical obligation."
Jeanne considered his question thoughtfully before answering. "Servants reflect not only their own nature but also how they interpret their Master's needs. We see a young man who has endured extraordinary hardship with resilience and maintained his humanity despite cruel circumstances."
"I'm just surviving," Denji shrugged uncomfortably. "Nothing special about that."
"The manner of survival reveals character," Jeanne countered gently. "You could have become bitter, cruel, or entirely self-serving. Instead, you maintained compassion—sharing your meager resources with Pochita, dreaming of simple comforts rather than revenge against those who wronged you."
"So you're being nice because I'm... nice?" Denji looked skeptical.
"Because you deserved better than what life provided," Jeanne corrected. "And because helping you achieve that better life aligns with the values that made us Heroic Spirits in the first place. Servants function best when their actions have meaning beyond mere obedience."
Denji absorbed this, visibly uncomfortable with the idea that he might deserve kindness simply for existing. After a lifetime of being treated as disposable, the concept was almost incomprehensible.
"Well," he finally said, awkwardly changing the subject, "thanks for explaining the, uh, magical stuff. I should probably turn in—busy devil hunting day tomorrow and all that."
Jeanne simply smiled, recognizing his retreat from emotional vulnerability. "Rest well, Master. Tomorrow brings new opportunities."
As Denji settled onto his futon beside the softly snoring Pochita, he found his mind racing despite his physical exhaustion. Three days ago, his entire existence had been defined by survival in its most brutal form—scraping together enough to eat, avoiding debt collectors, selling parts of his body when necessary. Now he lay in a secure space surrounded by legendary protectors who seemed genuinely invested in his welfare.
It felt like a dream—one he was afraid to fully trust. In his experience, good things never lasted. They were either illusions or traps, designed to heighten the inevitable pain of their loss. Yet as he drifted toward sleep, the soft sounds of his Servants moving quietly around their new base provided an unfamiliar sense of security.
Maybe, just maybe, this time would be different.
Chapter 6: Building Something New
"Absolutely not."
"But Master—"
"No way. It's too dangerous."
"The Emperor must insist—"
"Forget it, Nero. There is no scenario where bringing you to the yakuza meeting is a good idea."
The morning had started peacefully enough. Denji had awakened to the novel scent of fresh coffee and the sound of Raikou preparing breakfast in their new kitchen area. The futon—while still just a temporary bedroll on the floor—had provided better rest than his leaking apartment ever had. For a brief, blissful moment, life had seemed almost... normal.
Then Nero had announced her plan to accompany Denji to his check-in with the yakuza, complete with a detailed explanation of how her "imperial presence" would "solidify their standing in the criminal hierarchy."
"Umu! You fail to recognize the strategic advantage of overwhelming charisma!" Nero protested, striking a dramatic pose in her civilian disguise—today featuring an even more eye-catching red outfit with gold accessories that screamed 'notice me' rather than 'discreet business meeting.'
"I recognize that your definition of 'subtle diplomacy' involves theatrical monologues and probably impromptu musical performances," Denji countered, accepting a cup of coffee from Raikou with a grateful nod. "The yakuza are already suspicious enough about Raikou suddenly appearing in my life. Adding another gorgeous foreigner with zero filter would basically confirm their worst suspicions."
"He's right," Artoria agreed, entering from her perimeter check. "Our arrangement with the criminal organization is tenuous. Introducing additional variables unnecessarily would be tactically unsound."
Nero pouted magnificently. "The Emperor's talents are being squandered! Rome was not built by hiding its greatest asset!"
"Rome also fell," Denji pointed out dryly. "Maybe because too many people were singing instead of watching the borders?"
"A historically simplistic but temporarily effective argument," Nero conceded with imperial reluctance. "Very well! The Emperor shall instead investigate these residential districts for independent contracts while you attend to the criminal element!"
"Actually, that makes sense," Jeanne observed, joining the conversation. "Splitting into teams would allow us to accomplish multiple objectives simultaneously."
"Agreed," Artoria nodded. "I suggest Nero and Jeanne explore the residential areas for potential clients while Raikou accompanies Denji to the yakuza meeting. I will remain here to establish our defensive perimeter more thoroughly."
"The Emperor accepts this assignment!" Nero declared, instantly recovering her enthusiasm. "The common folk shall be blessed with imperial attention to their devil problems!"
"Just try not to mention you're an emperor from ancient Rome," Denji sighed. "Or that you're a magical spirit summoned through a mysterious circle. Or anything about Holy Grails."
"You worry unnecessarily, Master!" Nero waved dismissively. "The Emperor has extensive experience with undercover operations! My performances among the common people of Rome were legendary for their discretion!"
The dubious expressions on everyone's faces suggested universal skepticism about this claim.
"Perhaps I should accompany Nero," Jeanne suggested diplomatically. "To provide... context for any cultural misunderstandings."
"Good idea," Denji agreed quickly. "Really good idea."
Breakfast concluded with the finalization of their day's plans. Denji and Raikou would meet with the yakuza to secure their first assignment under the new arrangement. Nero and Jeanne would investigate the residential districts for independent devil problems that might provide additional income. Artoria would secure their new base and compile a strategic assessment of their resources and capabilities.
"Before we depart," Raikou said, handing Denji a small bento box wrapped in cloth, "lunch. A growing body needs regular nutrition, especially during active days."
"You made me lunch?" Denji stared at the neatly wrapped package, momentarily speechless. No one had packed him lunch since... well, ever, as far as he could remember.
"Of course," Raikou replied as though it were the most natural thing in the world. "Proper maternal care includes ensuring regular meals."
"I... thanks," Denji managed, tucking the bento carefully into his bag. "That's really... thanks."
Pochita, who would be accompanying Denji and Raikou as usual, made an appreciative noise when Raikou presented him with his own small package of food.
"You're spoiling him," Denji observed, watching his devil partner practically vibrate with happiness at the special treatment.
"All children deserve occasional indulgence," Raikou smiled serenely. "Both human and chainsaw varieties."
With final preparations complete, the teams departed for their respective missions. Artoria saw them off at the warehouse entrance, already formulating security enhancements with the focused efficiency of an experienced military commander.
The yakuza headquarters—still disguised as a pachinko parlor—was relatively quiet in the morning hours. The familiar bouncer nodded them through with minimal fuss, having apparently accepted Raikou's presence as a new normal in Denji's life.
Takeo awaited them in his office, looking as perpetually bored and faintly disgusted as ever. "Chainsaw kid," he acknowledged flatly. "And the 'cousin.' Right on time."
"We're here for our assignment," Denji stated, trying to project more confidence than he usually managed in these meetings. "As per our new arrangement."
Takeo slid a thin folder across his desk. "Blood Hammer Devil. Industrial district. It's been attacking metal workers—three dead so far. Smashes them to pulp and drinks the blood spray. Charming creature."
Denji opened the folder, examining the blurry photographs and incident reports. "Looks nasty. Location?"
"The abandoned metalworks on Shibuya Street. It's been using the foundry area as a lair." Takeo leaned back, eyeing them assessingly. "Bounty is 150,000 yen. Previous hunter didn't come back at all."
"What's the time frame?" Raikou asked, her voice pleasantly professional despite the gruesome details.
"ASAP. It's disrupting operations in a district we have interests in." Takeo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Ozaki-san was impressed with your quick work on the Rust Devil. He's curious to see if it was luck or skill."
"Neither," Denji replied with unusual directness. "It was teamwork. Something the previous hunters probably didn't have."
Takeo's eyebrows rose fractionally at this uncharacteristic confidence. "Fifty-two thousand five hundred yen upon confirmation of elimination," he stated, referring to their negotiated 35% rate. "Bring back the hammer."
"Consider it done," Raikou said with serene assurance, rising gracefully. "Will there be anything else?"
"Just one thing," Takeo added as they turned to leave. "Ozaki-san mentioned he'd like to observe your methods sometime. Professional curiosity."
Denji tensed slightly. Yakuza "professional curiosity" rarely led anywhere good.
"Perhaps when we've established a more comprehensive track record," Raikou replied smoothly. "New partnerships benefit from trust built through consistent results."
"Of course," Takeo's thin smile didn't reach his eyes. "Results speak for themselves."
Outside the pachinko parlor, Denji exhaled slowly. "They're definitely suspicious. That stuff about Ozaki wanting to 'observe our methods'? He's trying to figure out what our angle is."
"Expected," Raikou nodded calmly. "Criminal organizations inherently distrust sudden changes, particularly those that affect their profit margins."
"So what do we do?"
"Exactly what we said—deliver consistent results. Each successful elimination builds our credibility while giving them fewer reasons to disrupt a profitable arrangement." Raikou studied the folder as they walked. "This Blood Hammer Devil appears significantly more dangerous than the Rust Devil. Its method of killing is more... personal."
"Yeah, devils that specifically target humans are usually tougher to handle," Denji agreed, flipping through the photos. "They're smarter, more adaptive. And this one has a weapon."
The "hammer" referenced in the devil's name was actually part of its body—a massive appendage that resembled an industrial sledgehammer, complete with metal reinforcement. According to the reports, it used this to literally pulverize its victims before feeding on the resulting blood spray.
"Charming," Raikou commented, echoing Takeo's earlier sarcasm. "Though the straightforward nature of its attacks suggests limited tactical thinking. Brute force rather than strategy."
"That usually means get in quick, hit hard, don't let it build momentum," Denji nodded, speaking from experience. "Once these strength-type devils get going, they're tough to stop."
"I believe my capabilities are well-suited to this particular opponent," Raikou observed with quiet confidence. "Berserker-class Servants specialize in overwhelming force when necessary."
"I should probably call the others," Denji suggested, reaching for the budget flip phone they'd acquired the previous day. "Four Servants versus one devil seems like better odds."
"A prudent approach," Raikou agreed. "Though perhaps not all four are necessary. Artoria's security work at our base is valuable, and Nero and Jeanne may make important contacts in the residential districts."
After a brief phone conversation—during which Nero could be heard dramatically proclaiming something about "imperial rescue operations" in the background—it was decided that Jeanne would join them at the metalworks while Nero continued investigating potential independent contracts.
"She's actually really good at getting people to talk to her," Denji admitted as they headed toward the industrial district. "All that imperial charisma stuff isn't completely made up."
"Nero's flamboyance masks genuine leadership qualities," Raikou agreed. "In her historical era, such theatrical displays were often effective tools of statecraft."
They reached the abandoned metalworks by midday—a sprawling complex of rusted corrugated buildings that had once been a thriving manufacturing center before economic downturns forced its closure. Chain-link fencing surrounded the property, though numerous gaps and collapsed sections rendered this security measure largely symbolic.
Jeanne was waiting for them at the agreed rendezvous point, having already changed from her civilian clothes to her battle armor. The silver plate gleamed in the midday sun, her battle standard held ready at her side.
"I've conducted a preliminary survey," she reported as they approached. "The devil's presence is concentrated in the main foundry building. I sense significant malevolence—this entity enjoys causing pain."
"That tracks with the reports," Denji nodded, reaching down to pat Pochita reassuringly. "Ready for some action, buddy?"
The chainsaw devil gave an affirmative rev of his engine, clearly eager after spending the previous day in relative peace.
"We should discuss strategy before entering," Jeanne suggested. "Unlike the Rust Devil, this entity seems to possess rudimentary intelligence. It has arranged crude traps using factory equipment—probably to funnel victims toward its preferred killing ground."
"Clever," Raikou's expression darkened slightly, her maternal instincts reacting to the calculated cruelty. "But predictable. Such entities typically establish a 'feeding arena' where they feel most powerful."
"The foundry floor," Denji guessed, studying the complex layout. "Big open space, lots of old equipment to use as weapons or shields, and probably the place where it feels most comfortable."
"Agreed," Jeanne nodded. "I propose a direct approach. Attempting to circumvent its prepared battlefield might trigger deadlier traps. Better to engage on terms we can anticipate."
"I'll take point," Raikou stated, her battle kimono materializing as her civilian disguise dissolved in motes of magical energy. "My Berserker capabilities make me most resistant to sudden ambush."
"I'll provide rear security and counter any ranged attacks," Jeanne added. "My banner offers protection against projectiles and defensive support."
"And Pochita and I will be ready for the transformation if things get hairy," Denji completed the plan, adjusting his grip on Pochita's cord. "But let's try to keep this clean if possible. I'd rather not have to explain a full chainsaw transformation to the yakuza if we can avoid it."
With their strategy established, they entered the metalworks complex through a gap in the fencing. The midday heat combined with the corrugated metal buildings created a stifling atmosphere, like walking into an industrial oven. Their footsteps echoed hollowly on concrete still stained with old oil and chemical spills.
As they approached the main foundry building, evidence of the devil's presence became more apparent. Dark, rust-colored stains that were unmistakably dried blood marked a path toward the central structure. Scattered personal effects—a hardhat, a broken watch, a single work boot—told the silent story of the creature's previous victims.
"It's taunting us," Jeanne observed quietly. "These items have been deliberately arranged. It wants us to know what happened to the others."
"Psychological warfare," Raikou nodded grimly. "A common tactic among the more intelligent oni of my era. Fear weakens resolve, makes prey easier to overwhelm."
"Well, it's dealing with the wrong people then," Denji stated with grim determination. "We're not exactly the frightened type."
The main entrance to the foundry was a massive sliding door, partially open just enough to allow single-file entry—a perfect bottleneck for an ambush. Instead of taking this obvious bait, Raikou circled to a side access door, which hung partially off its hinges.
"This entrance provides better tactical positioning," she explained, purple energy beginning to crackle subtly around her massive weapon. "Maintain formation as we enter."
The interior of the foundry was a cathedral to industrial decay—enormous melting crucibles frozen in their final positions, conveyor systems hanging limp like the skeletons of massive serpents, control panels dark and dead beneath layers of dust and grime. Shafts of sunlight penetrated through holes in the roof, creating stark contrasts of light and shadow throughout the cavernous space.
And there, in the center of the main floor, stood their quarry.
The Blood Hammer Devil was a grotesque amalgamation of industrial equipment and organic matter. Standing nearly three meters tall, its body resembled a humanoid form constructed from hydraulic presses and forge equipment. One arm ended in the enormous hammer that gave it its name—a massive block of metal larger than Denji's entire body. Its head was a featureless oval of rusted metal, except for a gaping maw filled with jagged, gear-like teeth.
But most disturbing were the stains covering its form—dried blood in various stages of oxidation, creating a macabre timeline of its victims. The freshest stains still glistened wetly in the sunlight streaming from above.
The devil tilted its featureless head as they entered, a low, grinding sound emerging from its maw—something between a laugh and metal scraping against concrete.
"It knows we're here," Jeanne stated unnecessarily, her banner glowing softly with protective energy. "And it's... amused."
"Not for long," Raikou replied, maternal fury transforming her serene expression into something far more terrifying. "This creature has feasted on innocents for the last time."
The Blood Hammer Devil seemed to understand her words—or at least her intent. It raised its massive hammer arm in what might have been a challenging gesture, then slammed it down onto the concrete floor with earth-shaking force. Cracks spiderwebbed outward from the impact point, and the sound reverberated through the foundry like a massive bell being struck.
"That's its challenge," Denji translated, instinctively tightening his grip on Pochita. "It's basically saying 'come get some.'"
"With pleasure," Raikou whispered, and then she moved.
Even having witnessed the Servants in battle against the Rust Devil, Denji was unprepared for the sheer speed and power Raikou displayed. One moment she stood beside them, the next she had crossed half the foundry floor, her massive weapon trailing purple lightning as it swept toward the devil.
The creature reacted with surprising agility for its size, bringing its hammer arm up to block. The collision of their weapons sent a shockwave through the building that dislodged dust and debris from the ceiling.
"She's testing its reflexes," Jeanne observed, already moving to a flanking position with practiced efficiency. "Gauging its combat capabilities."
The devil roared—a sound like metal being torn apart—and launched a counterattack, swinging its hammer in a wide arc that would have pulverized an ordinary opponent. But Raikou was far from ordinary. She flowed around the strike like water, her kimono fluttering as she repositioned for another attack.
"It's strong but predictable," she called to them, not taking her eyes off her opponent. "Standard attack patterns. No tactical adaptation."
The devil seemed to take personal offense at this assessment. It slammed its hammer into the ground again, but this time with a different purpose. The impact triggered a mechanism hidden beneath the foundry floor—suddenly, sections of the concrete slid away, revealing deep pits filled with jagged metal scrap.
"Traps!" Jeanne warned, leaping backward as the floor beneath her feet began to give way. "It's reconfigured the entire foundry!"
Denji narrowly avoided falling into one of the revealed pits, Pochita dragging him sideways by his pant leg just in time. "Okay, so maybe not completely brain-dead after all!"
The devil used this moment of chaos to charge, targeting Denji rather than the more obviously dangerous Servants. It had correctly identified the human as the potentially weakest link in their group.
"Master!" Jeanne's banner swept upward, intercepting the hammer blow that would have crushed Denji into paste. The impact drove her to one knee, but her divine protection held.
"Now who's being predictable?" Raikou's voice came from above as she descended from a leaping attack, her weapon wreathed in crackling energy. "Targeting the smallest opponent first? How disappointingly conventional."
Her blow struck true, cleaving into the devil's shoulder joint and partially severing its hammer arm. Black ichor sprayed from the wound, hissing where it hit the concrete floor.
The creature howled in pain and rage, stumbling backward. But rather than retreating, it slammed its damaged hammer into the nearest crucible, shattering the ancient metal container. With its other arm, it gathered the shrapnel and hurled it outward in all directions—a deadly shotgun blast of metal fragments.
"Behind me!" Jeanne called, her banner expanding into a glowing shield that intercepted the projectiles heading toward her and Denji.
Raikou, meanwhile, simply accepted the impacts, the metal shards bouncing off her supernatural durability or embedding harmlessly in her kimono. Her expression remained focused, almost serene in its deadly intent.
"Pochita," Denji whispered to his partner. "Get ready. This thing's tougher than we thought."
The chainsaw devil growled in agreement, engine revving in anticipation.
The Blood Hammer Devil, perhaps sensing that its conventional attacks were proving ineffective, suddenly changed tactics. It retreated toward the far wall, where massive chains hung from an overhead crane system. With unexpected dexterity, it leapt upward, seizing the chains and using them to swing itself into the rafters above.
"It's attempting to gain a position advantage," Jeanne observed, eyes tracking the creature's movement. "Using height and shadows for concealment."
"A sign of intelligence," Raikou agreed, circling warily beneath the devil's new position. "But ultimately futile."
From its elevated perch, the devil began dislodging heavy machinery components, raining deadly metal down upon them. Jeanne's banner deflected the largest pieces while Raikou simply dodged with supernatural grace.
"This is getting annoying," Denji muttered, narrowly avoiding a falling gear the size of a dinner plate. "Time to level the playing field."
Before either Servant could stop him, Denji yanked Pochita's cord with practiced precision. The familiar spray of blood and mechanical transformation followed, merging devil and human into the chainsaw hybrid that had so shocked the Servants during their previous battle.
"Master!" Jeanne called in alarm, but Chainsaw Denji was already in motion.
With his head and arms transformed into whirring blades, he charged the nearest support column and began cutting through it with terrifying efficiency. Metal and concrete parted like butter beneath his chainsaw teeth.
"I see his strategy," Raikou realized approvingly. "He's destabilizing the devil's position."
The column collapsed with a shriek of tearing metal, causing the entire rafter system to shift precariously. The Blood Hammer Devil lost its footing, clinging to the chains as its perch tilted dangerously.
"My turn," Raikou whispered, purple lightning crackling around her entire body now. She leapt upward with impossible power, ascending to the devil's level in a single bound. "For the children you've harmed."
Her weapon swept in a devastating arc, severing not just the chains the devil clung to but also a significant portion of its remaining arm. The creature fell, crashing to the foundry floor with an impact that shook the entire building.
Chainsaw Denji was on it instantly, his whirring blades tearing into the devil's weakened form with brutal efficiency. Black ichor sprayed in all directions as he methodically dismembered the creature that had killed so many.
Jeanne stood back, her expression solemn but resolved. This was justice being delivered—harsh but necessary for a being that had shown no mercy to its victims.
The devil made one final, desperate attempt to fight back, its partially severed hammer arm swinging weakly toward Denji's exposed flank. But Raikou intercepted the blow, her weapon cleaving through the limb entirely.
"Enough," she said simply, and brought her massive blade down on the devil's featureless head, splitting it cleanly in two.
The creature went still, its body already beginning to dissolve into the ash-like substance that all devils became upon death. Only the hammer remained solid—the part they needed for proof of elimination.
Chainsaw Denji stood over the dissolving corpse, his mechanical parts gradually slowing their rotation. With a grotesque reversal of his transformation, he returned to human form, Pochita separating from him to stand once more as an independent entity.
"Well," Denji panted, wiping black ichor from his face, "that was messier than I'd hoped."
"But effective," Raikou observed, examining the hammer trophy. "A clean elimination."
"Clean is not the word I would use," Jeanne commented with gentle humor, gesturing to their ichor-splattered appearances. "But certainly decisive."
Denji grinned tiredly. "Fifty-two thousand five hundred yen for about fifteen minutes of work. Not a bad hourly rate."
As they collected their trophy and prepared to leave the foundry, Jeanne placed a hand on Denji's shoulder. "Your transformation is concerning, Master. The physical toll appears significant."
"I'm fine," Denji assured her, though the slight tremor in his hands suggested otherwise. "It takes a bit out of me, but nothing serious."
"You should rest before we return to the yakuza," Raikou insisted, maternal concern overriding her warrior persona now that the threat was eliminated. "And eat. I brought additional provisions in anticipation of your transformation's energy demands."
"Always thinking ahead," Denji observed with a weary smile. "Alright, lunch break before we claim our bounty. I could definitely eat."
They found a relatively clean area outside the foundry, where Raikou unpacked not just Denji's lunch bento but additional food she had apparently prepared for exactly this scenario. As they ate—or in Denji's case, devoured—they discussed the implications of their second successful hunt.
"Two high-value devils eliminated in two days," Jeanne noted. "The yakuza will be impressed, but also increasingly curious about our capabilities."
"Let them be curious," Denji shrugged, mouth half-full. "As long as they pay us and stop trying to harvest my organs, they can wonder all they want."
"They will investigate," Raikou predicted calmly. "Criminal organizations dislike unexplained variables in their operations. We should prepare for increased scrutiny."
"You think they'll follow us?" Denji asked, suddenly concerned about their warehouse base.
"Eventually," Raikou nodded. "Which is why Artoria's security enhancements are so important. And why establishing alternate income streams through Nero and Jeanne's efforts in the residential districts is strategically valuable."
"Speaking of which," Jeanne interjected, "Nero was quite excited when I left her. She had apparently identified several promising situations—minor devils causing problems for local businesses and neighborhoods."
"Knowing Nero, she's probably promised them a full imperial protection program by now," Denji sighed, though without real irritation. "Complete with victory parades and commemorative statues."
"The Emperor is enthusiastic but effective," Jeanne smiled. "Her approach resonates particularly well with small business owners who appreciate her... theatrical confidence."
"As long as she doesn't start singing," Denji muttered, remembering Nero's impromptu vocal performance the previous evening—a 'traditional Roman bathing song' that had nearly shattered their newly installed windows.
As they finished their meal and prepared to return to the yakuza headquarters, Denji found himself reflecting on how quickly his life had transformed. Just days ago, devil hunting had been a desperate solo endeavor with Pochita, each fight a potential death sentence for minimal pay. Now it was almost... fun? Certainly less terrifying with legendary heroes fighting alongside him.
"What are you thinking, Master?" Jeanne asked, noticing his contemplative expression.
"Just that this is all still weird," Denji admitted. "Good weird, but weird. I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know? For something to go horribly wrong."
"A natural response to sudden positive change after prolonged hardship," Jeanne observed with compassionate understanding. "Trust develops slowly when experience has taught caution."
"But healthy skepticism need not prevent enjoying present improvements," Raikou added, gently petting Pochita who was contentedly digesting his portion. "Each good day builds foundation for the next."
"Yeah, I guess," Denji nodded, rising to his feet. "Alright, let's go get paid. And then see what imperial
Chapter 6: Building Something New (Continued)
"Yeah, I guess," Denji nodded, rising to his feet. "Alright, let's go get paid. And then see what imperial disasters Nero's cooked up while we were busy."
The trip back to yakuza headquarters was uneventful, though they did draw some strange looks carrying a massive devil hammer through the streets. Raikou had wrapped it in canvas, but the distinctive shape and occasional drip of black ichor made complete concealment impossible.
"You know what's weird?" Denji said as they walked, adjusting his grip on the cumbersome trophy. "Nobody ever stops us. Like, we're carrying a giant murder weapon covered in devil goo, and people just look away."
"Humans instinctively avoid what they cannot comprehend," Jeanne explained gently. "They sense the supernatural, even if they cannot name it."
"Or maybe they just think we're construction workers," Denji shrugged. "Who cares, as long as nobody calls the cops."
At the pachinko parlor, the bouncer eyed their blood-spattered appearances with mild interest but waved them through without comment. Takeo was waiting in his office, scrolling through his phone with his usual expression of bored disdain. He looked up as they entered, his eyebrows raising slightly at the state of their clothing.
"That was fast," he remarked, setting down his phone. "What's it been, four hours?"
"Would've been faster, but we stopped for lunch," Denji replied bluntly, dropping the canvas-wrapped hammer onto Takeo's desk with a heavy thud that rattled his coffee cup. "Blood Hammer Devil, as requested."
Takeo cautiously unwrapped the trophy, examining it with professional assessment. "Intact and identifiable. Good work." He seemed genuinely impressed despite himself. "Previous hunter had extensive combat experience. Reported to be ex-military."
"Maybe he didn't have the right tools for the job," Denji suggested with a meaningful glance at Raikou and Jeanne.
"Maybe." Takeo opened his desk drawer and counted out the agreed payment. "Fifty-two thousand five hundred yen. Thirty-five percent of the bounty, as arranged."
Denji accepted the money, quickly counting to confirm the amount. "Got anything else for us today?"
"Eager, aren't we?" Takeo's thin smile didn't reach his eyes. "Two eliminations in two days is already well above average performance. Perhaps pace yourself."
"Why? We're good at this," Denji stated plainly. "You've got devils that need killing, we kill them, everybody's happy."
"Except the devils," Jeanne added with gentle humor.
"Except the devils," Denji agreed. "So? Any more jobs or not?"
Takeo studied him for a moment, his expression calculating. "Ozaki-san mentioned your... efficiency might prove useful for a special situation. Something requiring discretion as well as elimination skills."
"What kind of 'special situation'?" Raikou asked, her maternal protectiveness immediately on alert.
"A devil causing problems in one of our more... sensitive business operations," Takeo explained vaguely. "The details would be provided directly by Ozaki-san. Higher compensation than standard bounties."
"When and where?" Denji asked, already thinking about the extra money.
"Tomorrow evening. Ozaki-san's private residence in Aoyama." Takeo slid a small card across the desk. "The address. Come alone."
"Yeah, that's not happening," Denji snorted, picking up the card but shaking his head. "I don't go anywhere without my team now. That's how I've survived two devils that killed other hunters."
Takeo's expression hardened. "This isn't a negotiation. Ozaki-san's instructions were specific."
"So are mine," Denji replied, surprising himself with his own boldness. "No offense, but the last time I went alone to a yakuza meeting, I woke up missing a kidney. So it's all of us or none of us."
A tense silence followed this declaration. Raikou shifted almost imperceptibly closer to Denji, her posture relaxed but her eyes deadly serious. Jeanne remained perfectly still, her serene expression belying her combat readiness.
Finally, Takeo exhaled slowly. "I'll inform Ozaki-san of your... conditions. Expect a call."
"Great," Denji pocketed the address card and the payment. "We'll be waiting. Let's go."
Outside, once they were safely away from the pachinko parlor, Raikou placed a hand on Denji's shoulder. "That was remarkably assertive, child. And potentially dangerous."
"Was I supposed to just agree to walk into an obvious trap?" Denji asked bluntly. "I'm not the sharpest, but even I can tell when something stinks. 'Come alone' is basically yakuza-speak for 'we're going to do something you won't like.'"
"Your instincts are sound," Jeanne agreed. "But we should discuss this development with the others before deciding our next move."
"Yeah, sure," Denji nodded, then grinned suddenly. "But first, let's buy some actual food with our new money! I'm talking real meat, not the maybe-it's-chicken stuff I usually get. And actual vegetables that aren't half-rotten!"
Raikou smiled indulgently at his childlike enthusiasm. "A proper grocery trip is indeed our next priority. Growing bodies need nutritious ingredients."
"And maybe some beer?" Denji suggested hopefully. "You know, to celebrate?"
"Absolutely not," Raikou stated with immovable maternal authority. "Alcohol inhibits proper development."
"I'm nineteen! That's drinking age in lots of places!"
"Not in my household," Raikou replied serenely, already leading the way toward the nearest supermarket.
Denji sighed dramatically but followed without further protest. Arguing with Raikou on maternal matters was proving to be a consistently losing battle.
The supermarket experience was a revelation for Denji. Accustomed to buying the cheapest possible food from convenience stores or dubious street vendors, watching Raikou methodically select fresh produce, quality proteins, and staple ingredients was like observing an alien ritual.
"Why are you touching all the fruit?" he asked, watching her carefully examine each apple before selecting it. "They all look the same."
"Ripeness and freshness vary considerably," Raikou explained patiently. "This slight give indicates perfect readiness for consumption, while excessive softness would suggest imminent spoilage."
"If you say so," Denji shrugged, more interested in the meat section they were approaching. "Hey, can we get that fancy beef? The one with all the white lines in it?"
"Wagyu is perhaps excessive for our current budget," Jeanne suggested gently. "Though quality protein is certainly important."
"But we just made fifty thousand yen in a few hours!" Denji protested. "Can't we splurge a little? I've never had fancy beef before."
Something in his simple, honest desire for this small luxury softened both Servants' expressions.
"Perhaps a small portion," Raikou conceded, selecting a modestly sized package of the marbled beef. "For special occasions."
Denji beamed like he'd been given a priceless treasure. "Awesome! What else can we get? Oh! Ice cream! Do we have enough for ice cream?"
The shopping expedition continued with Denji's excitement over ordinary groceries providing constant amusement for his companions. Each common food item that had been previously unattainable due to his poverty was met with disproportionate enthusiasm.
"Eggs! Real eggs, not the weird off-brand ones that might be from pigeons or something!"
"Fresh bread! Look, it doesn't even have blue spots growing on it!"
"Wait, you can buy this many noodles at once? Legally?"
By the time they finished, they had acquired enough groceries to stock their warehouse kitchen properly for the first time. Denji insisted on carrying the heaviest bags despite Raikou and Jeanne's supernatural strength, clearly taking pride in contributing to their household efforts.
They arrived back at the warehouse to find it transformed. Artoria had apparently been busy during their absence, reinforcing windows, adding multiple locks to entrances, and establishing what appeared to be a proper training area in one corner.
Most surprising, however, was the collection of furniture now filling the previously sparse space. Simple but functional chairs, tables, futon frames, and even a small sofa occupied the main living area.
"What the—where did all this come from?" Denji asked, setting down the grocery bags in shock.
"The Emperor has returned triumphant!" Nero's voice rang out as she emerged from one of the side rooms, beaming with pride. "Behold the fruits of imperial negotiation and commerce!"
"Nero and I identified several devil-related issues in the residential district," Artoria explained more pragmatically, appearing from the improvised training area. "We eliminated two minor threats and negotiated payment in both currency and these furnishings."
"You got all this for killing a couple of small devils?" Denji looked incredulous.
"Umu! The grateful furniture shop owner was most generous after we eliminated the Splinter Devil destroying his inventory!" Nero declared proudly. "And the apartment complex manager provided the kitchen equipment after we disposed of the Mold Devil in their ventilation system!"
"We've established the beginnings of our independent operation," Artoria elaborated. "Small-scale eliminations with practical compensation rather than purely monetary payment."
"That's... actually really smart," Denji admitted, looking around at their suddenly much more comfortable base. "Though I bet Nero's 'negotiation' involved a lot of dramatic speeches about imperial glory, right?"
"The Emperor's oratory skills are unmatched!" Nero confirmed without a trace of humility. "The common folk were appropriately awed by my magnanimous presence!"
"Translation: she talked their ears off until they gave us furniture to make her stop," Denji stage-whispered to Jeanne, who suppressed a smile.
"I hear that, Master!" Nero protested, though without real offense. "The Emperor simply knows the value of proper compensation for services rendered!"
"And we made good money from the yakuza today too," Denji said, pulling out the payment to show them. "Fifty-two thousand five hundred yen for like fifteen minutes of actual fighting."
"Excellent," Artoria nodded approvingly. "With both streams of income developing, our financial stability improves considerably."
"But there's a complication," Raikou added, her tone growing serious as she finished arranging groceries in their new refrigerator. "Ozaki has requested a private meeting tomorrow evening, initially specifying that Denji should come alone."
"Which I told them was total crap," Denji interjected bluntly. "I'm not stupid enough to walk into that kind of setup."
"Wise caution," Artoria agreed, her expression darkening. "Such invitations from criminal elements rarely end favorably."
"Umu! The Emperor would never allow her Master to face potential treachery unaccompanied!" Nero declared dramatically. "We shall attend this meeting as a united force!"
"That might be exactly what they want," Jeanne observed thoughtfully. "To assess all of us together, evaluate our capabilities and relationships."
"So what? Let them look," Denji shrugged, dropping onto their new sofa with evident pleasure at its comfort. "Not like they can actually do anything to stop us if they tried something funny."
"Overconfidence is dangerous," Artoria cautioned. "Even with our abilities, maintaining advantageous relationships with the local power structure is strategically preferable to open conflict."
"I'm not saying we should fight them," Denji clarified. "Just that we shouldn't be scared of them either. You guys took down two major devils without breaking a sweat. The yakuza are just guys with guns."
"Guys with guns, extensive resources, territorial control, and significant influence with authorities," Raikou corrected gently. "While we could certainly eliminate any direct threat, the resulting complications would be considerable."
"Fine, fine," Denji sighed, sinking deeper into the sofa. "So what's the plan then? We still going to this meeting or not?"
"We should attend," Artoria decided after a moment's consideration. "But with precautions. Two of us accompany you visibly, while the others maintain positions nearby, unseen but ready to intervene if necessary."
"Dibs on going in!" Nero immediately volunteered. "The Emperor has yet to meet this Ozaki person directly!"
"Perhaps a less... theatrical presence would be advisable for this particular meeting," Jeanne suggested diplomatically.
"Are you implying the Emperor lacks subtlety?" Nero looked genuinely offended.
"Nero, you're about as subtle as a chainsaw to the face," Denji said flatly. "Which I would know about, considering I literally turn into one."
"Umu! The Emperor appreciates directness, even when it wounds her magnificent pride!" Nero declared, recovering instantly. "Very well! I shall coordinate the external security detail with appropriate imperial efficiency!"
"Raikou and I should accompany Denji," Artoria suggested. "We've already established Raikou's cover story as family, and my presence can be explained similarly. Our previous interactions with the yakuza have established a baseline they're familiar with."
"Works for me," Denji agreed, then suddenly sat up straight. "Wait! Before we get all serious with planning again—can we try that fancy beef for dinner? I'm starving after all that devil hunting and yakuza negotiating!"
The abrupt shift from tactical planning to childlike food enthusiasm broke the tension, drawing smiles from all four Servants.
"Of course," Raikou agreed indulgently. "A proper celebration of our successful day is appropriate."
"And I'll make that fancy tea that shop owner gave us!" Nero added excitedly. "He claimed it was served to actual emperors! A fitting tribute to my glorious status!"
"Maybe I should cook the beef," Artoria suggested, eyeing Nero cautiously. "Your last culinary experiment was somewhat... explosive."
"That was because you failed to appreciate Roman cooking techniques!" Nero protested. "The flames were entirely intentional!"
"The scorch marks on the ceiling suggest otherwise," Jeanne observed mildly.
As the Servants playfully debated cooking responsibilities, Denji found himself watching them with a strange feeling in his chest. It took him a moment to identify it as contentment—possibly the first time he'd felt it in his entire life.
"Hey, Pochita," he said quietly to his partner, who had settled beside him on the sofa. "Is this what having a real home feels like?"
The chainsaw devil made a soft, affirmative rumbling sound.
"It's weird, right? Nice weird, but weird." Denji scratched behind Pochita's chainsaw housing affectionately. "I keep thinking I'm gonna wake up back in that leaky apartment with debt collectors pounding on the door."
Pochita nestled closer, offering silent reassurance.
"I mean, I'm still me—broke, uneducated, basically useless at anything except devil hunting," Denji continued reflectively. "But somehow these legendary heroes are all... I dunno, acting like I'm worth something? Like, actually worth protecting and feeding and stuff."
His partner made another sympathetic noise.
"You've always thought I was worth it," Denji acknowledged with a small smile. "But you're as messed up as I am, buddy. No offense."
The preparation of dinner became a surprisingly coordinated affair, with each Servant contributing according to their strengths. Raikou supervised the overall meal planning, Artoria handled the precious wagyu beef with the precision of a surgeon, Jeanne prepared vegetables and side dishes with serene efficiency, and Nero... well, Nero provided enthusiastic commentary and occasional musical accompaniment that everyone politely tolerated.
When they finally gathered around their new table—another acquisition from Nero and Artoria's residential devil hunting—the meal looked better than anything Denji had ever eaten, much less helped prepare.
"This is amazing," he breathed, staring at the perfectly seared beef, colorful vegetables, and steaming rice. "Like restaurant food, but in our house!"
"A balanced meal supports proper development," Raikou stated with maternal satisfaction. "Both physical and emotional."
"Umu! The Emperor approves of this feast!" Nero declared, raising her teacup in a toast. "To successful hunts and growing prosperity!"
"To new beginnings," Jeanne added more modestly.
"To effective teamwork," Artoria contributed.
"To not selling organs anymore!" Denji finished bluntly, drawing startled laughter from the others.
As they ate, Denji's expressions of delight at each bite provided ongoing entertainment for the Servants. His unfiltered enjoyment of the meal—complete with sounds of appreciation that bordered on inappropriate—was both amusing and oddly touching.
"Holy crap, this beef literally melts in your mouth!" he exclaimed after his first bite of the wagyu. "Is this what rich people eat all the time? No wonder they're so obsessed with money!"
"The marbling creates a unique texture when properly prepared," Artoria explained, clearly pleased with her culinary success. "Temperature control is essential for optimal results."
"I don't care about the technical stuff—it's just freaking delicious!" Denji enthused, already reaching for seconds. "Can we have this every day?"
"That would be fiscally irresponsible," Jeanne pointed out gently. "Quality nutrition doesn't always require luxury ingredients."
"Boring but true," Denji sighed dramatically. "Still, maybe once a week? Or when we kill an especially valuable devil?"
"A reasonable reward system," Raikou approved with a nod. "Incentives support continued effort and growth."
After dinner, they gathered in the main living area to discuss the next day's yakuza meeting in more detail. Artoria sketched a tactical plan, assigning positions and contingencies with military precision.
"This is getting really complicated," Denji observed, struggling to follow all the strategic elements. "Can't we just show up, hear what the guy wants, then decide if we'll do it or not?"
"Preparation prevents unpleasant surprises," Artoria replied firmly. "Especially when dealing with potentially hostile entities."
"I'm just saying, if they try anything funny, you guys can handle it," Denji pointed out pragmatically. "You're literal legendary heroes with magic powers. These are just dudes in suits with guns."
"Underestimating opponents is a path to defeat," Artoria countered. "Even the most powerful Servant can be vulnerable in the wrong circumstances."
"Fine, fine," Denji waved dismissively. "Secret positions, backup plans, emergency signals—whatever makes you happy. I still think you're overthinking this."
"It is precisely this kind of thinking that led to you selling organs to survive," Raikou pointed out with gentle but firm reproach.
"Low blow," Denji muttered, though without real heat. "But fair."
As evening deepened into night, they established watch rotations as had become their routine. Though their new base was more secure than previous accommodations, the Servants insisted on maintaining vigilance—a habit born from centuries of combat experience.
Denji, exhausted from the day's devil hunting and transformation, didn't protest when Raikou firmly suggested it was time for him to rest. The new futon frames made their sleeping arrangements significantly more comfortable than the previous night's floor bedding.
"I still can't believe we have actual furniture now," he commented as he settled onto his futon, Pochita curling up beside him. "And full stomachs. And money in the bank. All because of you guys."
"You contribute equally to our successes," Jeanne assured him from where she was preparing for first watch. "Your devil hunting skills and knowledge are valuable assets to our team."
"Plus I turn into a pretty awesome chainsaw," Denji added with sleepy pride.
"A unique and formidable capability," Artoria agreed seriously. "Though one we hope you need not employ frequently, given the physical toll it exacts."
"Worth it though," Denji yawned, already drifting toward sleep. "Worth it to have all this..."
As his breathing deepened into sleep, the four Servants exchanged glances laden with unspoken communication. Despite their different personalities and approaches, they shared a common purpose that went beyond their formal contract as Servants.
They had each recognized, in their own way, the wounded soul at Denji's core—a young man who had never known safety, comfort, or belonging until now. Their protective instincts, whether born from royal responsibility, saintly compassion, imperial benevolence, or maternal devotion, had aligned around this unexpected Master.
"He sleeps more peacefully each night," Jeanne observed softly.
"The body heals when the spirit feels secure," Raikou nodded, adjusting Denji's blanket with gentle precision.
"The Emperor shall ensure this security continues!" Nero declared, though in a whisper that showed unusual restraint. "None shall threaten our Master's newfound stability!"
"We should prepare for tomorrow's challenges," Artoria reminded them practically. "This yakuza meeting may represent either opportunity or threat—possibly both simultaneously."
As the Servants moved to their assigned positions for the night watch, Denji slept on, unaware of the protective gaze of legendary heroes standing vigilant over his rest. Pochita, however, seemed to understand, giving the Servants an appreciative mechanical purr before curling closer to his human partner.
For the first time in his harsh existence, Denji slept without fear—surrounded by strength greater than any debt collector or devil, in a home secured by powers beyond ordinary comprehension. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, but tonight, at least, was peaceful.
Chapter 7: The Yakuza's Proposition
"This is definitely a trap," Denji declared flatly, staring at the imposing traditional-style mansion before them. "Rich people houses are always traps in the movies."
The private residence of Ozaki, the yakuza loan shark who held Denji's debt, was located in an exclusive neighborhood that might as well have been on another planet from the slums Denji had spent his life in. High stone walls surrounded meticulously landscaped grounds, with armed guards positioned discreetly at the ornate front gate.
"Not necessarily a trap," Artoria corrected, scanning the property with the practiced eye of a tactician. "But certainly a display of power meant to intimidate."
"It's working," Denji muttered, tugging uncomfortably at the collar of his shirt—the nicest one he owned, which wasn't saying much. "Do I really have to wear this? It's choking me."
"Proper presentation conveys respect," Raikou explained patiently, adjusting his collar with maternal attention. "Which facilitates more balanced negotiations."
The three of them—Denji, Raikou, and Artoria—stood at the entrance to Ozaki's estate, dressed in their best approximation of formal attire. Behind them, a taxi pulled away, leaving them seemingly without alternative transportation. In reality, Jeanne and Nero were positioned strategically nearby, hidden but ready to intervene if needed.
"Remember the plan," Artoria said quietly as they approached the gate. "We listen to the proposition, gather information, make no firm commitments, and leave with dignity regardless of the offer."
"Yeah, yeah," Denji nodded impatiently. "Be polite, don't say anything stupid, let you guys do most of the talking. Got it."
The guards at the gate checked their invitation card before speaking briefly into radio earpieces. After receiving confirmation, they opened the gate with formal bows that somehow managed to remain intimidating.
"Please follow the stone path to the main house," one guard instructed. "Ozaki-san is expecting you in the garden pavilion."
The walk through the immaculate gardens felt longer than it probably was, each step taking Denji further from his comfort zone. Koi ponds, stone lanterns, and carefully pruned trees created an atmosphere of serene wealth that made him acutely aware of his own poverty and rough edges.
"This place probably costs more than I'll make in ten lifetimes," he whispered to his companions. "Who needs this many plants anyway?"
"Traditional Japanese gardens represent harmonious balance between nature and human influence," Raikou explained softly. "Each element has symbolic significance."
"Still seems like a waste of good space," Denji grumbled. "Could fit a whole apartment building here instead."
They were led to an elegant wooden pavilion overlooking a small waterfall. Inside, seated at a low table on traditional cushions, waited Ozaki himself. The yakuza loan shark was dressed in a formal kimono rather than his usual business suit, his gray hair pulled back in a traditional style that emphasized the ritual tattoos visible at his neck and wrists.
"Welcome," he greeted them with a slight bow. "Please, join me."
They removed their shoes and entered the pavilion, Denji following his companions' lead in bowing before taking seats on the cushions opposite Ozaki. A silent attendant appeared to serve tea in exquisite ceramic cups before disappearing as unobtrusively as she had come.
"Your home is most impressive," Raikou opened with perfect politeness. "The gardens particularly reflect traditional excellence."
"Thank you," Ozaki acknowledged with a slight nod. "They were designed by the same master who created the Emperor's East Garden. I find traditional aesthetics soothing in our chaotic modern world."
Denji fought the urge to fidget, feeling completely out of place in these refined surroundings. The teacup in his hands seemed too delicate, like it might shatter if he gripped it wrong.
"I appreciate you accepting my invitation," Ozaki continued smoothly. "Particularly with your... companions. I understand your reluctance to come alone, given our history."
"Yeah, well, losing organs makes a guy cautious," Denji replied bluntly before catching Raikou's warning glance. "I mean, uh, past experiences suggested caution would be prudent."
To his surprise, Ozaki actually smiled. "Refreshingly direct. A quality I've always appreciated about you, Denji. Despite your circumstances, you've never resorted to the pathetic groveling many in your position adopt."
"Wouldn't help anyway," Denji shrugged. "Groveling doesn't pay bills."
"Indeed not," Ozaki agreed. "Which brings us to the purpose of this meeting." He set down his teacup with deliberate precision. "Your recent devil elimination performance has been exceptional. Two high-value targets in two days, with complete recovery of valuable components. Most impressive."
"We work well as a team," Artoria stated simply.
"Clearly," Ozaki's gaze shifted between the three of them assessingly. "Which makes you ideal candidates for a more... specialized opportunity."
"What kind of opportunity?" Denji asked, cutting to the chase with characteristic directness.
"A devil has appeared in a location of significant importance to our organization," Ozaki explained, his tone carefully measured. "A private auction house we operate for select clientele. The devil manifestation has made the venue temporarily unusable and threatens extremely valuable merchandise."
"Why not use your regular security personnel?" Artoria inquired, her tone neutral but alert.
"We have," Ozaki admitted with a slight grimace. "Three men dead, two more severely injured. This particular devil appears immune to conventional weapons. Our regular devil hunters have refused the job after the first attempt resulted in fatalities."
"So it's a suicide mission," Denji concluded flatly. "That's why you're asking us."
"On the contrary," Ozaki countered smoothly. "It's because you've demonstrated capabilities beyond our regular contractors. Your elimination of the Rust Devil and Blood Hammer Devil suggests you have methods effective against extraordinary threats."
"What's the devil like?" Denji asked, practical considerations overriding his suspicion momentarily. "Powers, size, behavior?"
"We've named it the Glass Devil," Ozaki replied. "It appears able to manipulate and merge with glass surfaces—mirrors, windows, display cases. It attacks by dragging victims into reflective surfaces or sending glass shards as projectiles. Conventional weapons pass through it harmlessly."
"Sounds nasty," Denji admitted, glancing at his companions. "But not impossible."
"The compensation would be substantial," Ozaki continued. "Five hundred thousand yen, with your full thirty-five percent applied directly to your outstanding debt."
Denji nearly choked on his tea. "Five hundred thousand?! That's like... that's..."
"One hundred and seventy-five thousand yen toward your debt," Artoria calculated smoothly. "A significant reduction."
"This devil must be threatening extremely valuable merchandise indeed," Raikou observed quietly.
"The items in our auction house cater to wealthy international collectors," Ozaki acknowledged. "Some individual pieces are valued in the millions."
"Stolen stuff, you mean," Denji blurted out before he could stop himself.
An uncomfortable silence followed his tactless observation.
"Acquired through various channels," Ozaki finally responded, his tone cooler but not angry. "The provenance is irrelevant to your task, which is simply devil elimination—your speciality."
"When would this operation take place?" Artoria asked, redirecting the conversation smoothly.
"Tomorrow night. The auction is scheduled for the following evening, leaving limited time to resolve the situation." Ozaki produced a small envelope and slid it across the table. "The address, building layout, and security access codes. The facility will be cleared of personnel during your operation to prevent further casualties."
"How considerate," Denji muttered under his breath, earning another warning look from Raikou.
"We would need to assess the facility before committing to the operation," Artoria stated, neither accepting nor refusing the envelope. "A Glass Devil, as you've described it, requires specific tactical approaches."
"Of course," Ozaki nodded. "Preliminary inspection can be arranged for tonight, if that suits your schedule. My driver could take you there directly from here."
"That won't be necessary," Raikou declined politely but firmly. "We have our own methods of transportation and preparation."
"As you wish." Ozaki didn't push the issue. "Do we have an agreement in principle, pending your assessment?"
The three exchanged glances, communicating silently.
"We'll examine the situation and provide our decision by morning," Artoria replied diplomatically. "The compensation is appropriate, but the safety of our team is paramount."
"Naturally," Ozaki smiled thinly. "I would expect nothing less."
With the business portion of their meeting apparently concluded, Ozaki guided the conversation to seemingly casual topics—inquiring about their new living arrangements, commenting on recent city developments, even asking Denji about Pochita with apparently genuine interest. Throughout, Denji maintained an uncomfortable awareness that they were being assessed, every response analyzed for information about their capabilities and relationships.
After what felt like an eternity of strained small talk, they were finally able to make a graceful exit. Ozaki saw them to the garden path personally, bowing formally as they departed.
"I look forward to your decision," he said as they left. "And Denji—regardless of your choice on this matter, I'm pleased to see your circumstances improving. Talent should be nurtured, not wasted."
"Uh, thanks," Denji replied awkwardly, unsure how to respond to this seemingly genuine compliment from the man who had authorized harvesting his organs multiple times.
As they walked down the stone path toward the main gate, Denji waited until they were out of earshot before speaking again.
"Okay, what the hell was that about? Is he actually being nice now, or is this some weird yakuza mind game?"
"Both, potentially," Artoria replied thoughtfully. "He recognizes your value has increased with our assistance. A pragmatic reassessment rather than genuine concern for your welfare."
"Still creepy," Denji muttered. "Like having a loan shark suddenly invite you to dinner and ask about your hobbies."
"The Glass Devil situation is concerning," Raikou noted, her expression troubled. "Such entities are uncommon and particularly dangerous due to their phase-shifting capabilities."
"You've encountered similar devils before?" Artoria asked with professional interest.
"Similar oni in my era," Raikou clarified. "Beings that could move between reflective surfaces posed unique challenges for even the most accomplished warriors."
"But we can kill it, right?" Denji asked, cutting to his practical core concern. "Because one hundred and seventy-five thousand yen would make a huge dent in my debt."
"With proper strategy, yes," Raikou nodded. "Though it will require precise coordination and possibly your transformation abilities."
They exited the main gate, nodding politely to the guards before walking down the street as if heading toward public transportation. Once they were safely away from the estate, Jeanne and Nero emerged from their observation positions to join them.
"The Emperor has maintained perfect surveillance!" Nero declared proudly. "Not a detail escaped my imperial attention!"
"Did you see anyone following us or watching the meeting?" Artoria asked.
"Several security personnel monitoring through cameras," Jeanne reported more practically. "And what appeared to be a specialist with optical equipment on the eastern perimeter—likely assessing our capabilities and possibly recording our conversation."
"Of course they were spying on us," Denji sighed. "Rich yakuza guys probably have cameras everywhere."
"The spiritual residue around the estate suggests regular occult activities," Jeanne added with a slight frown. "This Ozaki may have more familiarity with supernatural entities than he revealed."
"Great, so he's not just a regular loan shark, he's a spooky loan shark," Denji groaned. "That makes everything better."
"We should discuss this Glass Devil proposition somewhere more secure," Artoria suggested. "The financial incentive is significant, but the risk factors are considerable."
"Umu! The Emperor senses opportunity and danger intertwined!" Nero agreed with theatrical gravity. "A most intriguing proposition!"
They made their way back to their warehouse base, taking a deliberately circuitous route to identify any potential tails. Artoria and Jeanne spotted two different surveillance attempts, which they casually evaded without alerting their observers