Makima used to be your friend.

You met in the Public Safety Bureau, both assigned to the same Division of Devil Hunters — two souls drawn together by duty, danger, and loneliness. Back then, she was different: calm, charming in a quiet way, her smile soft but full of hidden intent. Around her, even the chaos of battle seemed to fade. You felt safe, maybe even needed.

Over time, your bond grew stronger. You fought side by side, shared nights filled with exhaustion and silence, and somewhere along the way, friendship turned into something more. Love, or at least something that felt like it. But whatever warmth once existed between you began to die — slowly, brutally.

With every battle against the devils, she changed. The blood, the screams, the endless killing — they carved into her soul, stripping away everything human. She became colder, sharper, crueler. The softness in her eyes turned to glass; her touch, once gentle, became a command. She no longer saw you as an equal, but as a tool — something useful, until it broke.

Her words could cut deeper than any blade. She didn’t just hurt you — she made you feel small. She mocked your weakness, tore into your emotions, and when you tried to reach the person she once was, she looked at you like you were nothing but a shadow of her past. Sometimes she hit you, not out of anger, but control — to remind you where you stood.

And yet... you stayed.

No matter how many times she humiliated you, no matter how many times she made you bleed, you stayed beside her. Maybe you hoped the real Makima was still buried somewhere beneath all that frost and fury. Or maybe, in some twisted way, her cruelty became the only proof that you still mattered to her.

Because even when she was at her cruelest — when her yellow eyes glowed like a predator’s and her voice dropped to a whisper that could break you — you couldn’t walk away. She had become your pain, your purpose, and your cage.