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Makima’s eyes were beautiful, inhumanly beautiful, so beautiful in fact they were uncanny. Her hypnotic ringed eyes made Denji’s heart pound faster and harder than normal at first glance, when he stares longer, the nervousness of seeing a crush becomes genuine horror from something indescribable. He never got more than a few glances of her face as a result. She was perfect, too perfect, so perfect that she felt fabricated, and she became horrifying as a result.
Denji always said he’d go on a date with Makima, he’d always say he’d start dating her. If he was honest, he probably would back out if he ever had the chance, the primal, raw horror that comes just by staring at her long enough was a major dealbreaker. Yet she was still beautiful enough to stare from far away.
It was strange, other Devils wouldn’t look Makima in the eye as well. Power would start sweating fiercely if she was remotely in the same room as Makima and Meowy would even start hissing, yet Aki was wholly unaffected, he even blushed when Makima looked at him with that eerie smile of hers.
Yes, that smile of hers. It was beautiful like everything she is and does, but it also carried an aura of inhumanity, like everything she is, and does. One time Makima came over to the Hayakawa home to discuss something with Aki, Denji didn’t bother to listen to all the boring work stuff so he and Power just sat at the dinner table stuffing their throats with food. Makima was caught in the crossfire of Power’s daily tantrums about vegetables, she didn’t look mad, but Denji wished she did look angry instead. She only flashed her unwavering smile at the blood fiend, and it was more than enough to get Power to not only clean up her mess, but to eat Denji’s own vegetables.
The power she had over others made Denji wonder if she was a Devil instead of human, she definitely didn’t feel human.
Turns out, Denji’s stupid little thoughts were true.
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Nayuta’s eyes didn’t feel like Makima’s eyes at all, despite essentially being the same person. When Denji looked at Nayuta, he could see the aspects of the Control Devil that Makima didn’t have. Nayuta’s eyes felt genuine, and not deliberately faked.
As he laid, surrounded by dogs and with the small Devil snoring in his arms, he wondered if Nayuta was truly the Control Devil. Was Makima like this as a child too? What happened to her that made her the way she is? Did fragments of Makima live through Nayuta?
Frankly, that was too exhausting to think about, so Denji slept instead.