LXXXIV: Guns aren't that Powerful

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[Word Count: 3957]




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"So... I assume we've reached an agreement, then?" Y/n's voice was steady, his gaze fixed on the figure seated across from him.

The man's white suit was now a tarnished mess, smudged with dirt and grime that marred its once-pristine appearance. Blood trickled down from his nose, evidence of the ordeal they had just been through. The room they occupied had lost its grandeur and transformed into a chaotic scene of destruction as if a whirlwind had swept through.

In response to Y/n's inquiry, the man nodded with a solemn air. His posture was slouched, elbows resting on his knees, and his hands cradling his head as he looked downward.

With a solemn expression, the man nodded in agreement. "When the time comes, my body will be at your disposal," he muttered, his posture slouched, and his gaze fixed on the ground.

Y/n's response held a hint of dry amusement. "Don't make it sound weird," he remarked as he turned to exit the room.

The man's voice quivered as he nervously sought clarification. "Just one eye, right?"

"Just one eye," Y/n affirmed before stepping out of the room. His departure left the man in solitude amid the disheveled surroundings.

Left alone in the room, the man repeated the phrase to himself, his voice trembling with a mix of anxiety and resignation. "Just one eye."












Strolling through the Tokyo streets, Y/n glanced at his imaginary wristwatch and let out a tired yawn.

"Way too early for this nonsense," he grumbled to himself, approaching what appeared to be a cordoned-off crime scene with police tape barring entry to a home.

A man wearing a green jacket seemed frozen in place as Y/n's indifferent gaze fixed on him. The man's hand twitched involuntarily, torn between his instinct to flee and the compulsion to reach into his jacket. Beads of anxious sweat formed on his forehead as he wrestled with his decision.

Pushing against his primal urge to escape, the man cautiously reached into his jacket, then blinked as he gathered his nerves.

As his eyes reopened, they met a pair of ominous crimson orbs, staring deep into his panicked soul.


Within the confines of the crime scene, two familiar devil hunters, a woman with a cropped brown pixie cut and a bespectacled man with thick black frames, were engaged in conversation with an individual clad in a blue hoodie.

Suddenly, the sound of something substantial hitting the ground diverted their attention. Turning their gaze towards the source, they were met with a gory sight at Y/n's feet. He held a firearm aloft, regarding it with an expression of disdain.

"How fulsome..." he mumbled distasteful.

The trio's eyes widened in shock, the person in the blue hoodie particularly alarmed. Acting swiftly, he reached for his waist, prompting Madoka, the man with the glasses, to react instinctively.

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