( makoto had been fairly short for his age when he’d died, and he wasn’t going to grow any taller—though, he supposes he could replace this body with a taller one… if he ever happened to come across one missing its head. he gets the feeling that coming across something like that on its own would be virtually impossible, though; it’s fortunate enough that he doesn’t have too many qualms for this body that J got for him, except that it’s still entirely too human and normal for how he had pictured himself as a demon.

because, really, he isn’t all that impressive. small, scrawny, deathly pale, weird eyes, scar around his throat. that’s about it—only those last three items had changed somewhat after he’d died.

he nods. ) Whether we’re willing to use this place’s “game” to get what we want or try to fight against it… you need to understand what you’re up against, right?

( it’s one of the first few things he’d learned in hell: when strength is an illusion, the greatest pillar to power was knowledge, and the cunning and wherewithal to utilize it properly.

there’s no inherent danger in giving a demon your name—not unless you sign it to a contract in blood, at least. makoto gives a faint smile at the introduction. ) Okay, Bakugou-san, ( because, with a name like that, he feels it’s relatively certain he’s Japanese… ) If you learn anything interesting, feel free to reach out to me. I’d be happy to trade some things I’ve found out myself for it.

( basically confirming that, despite all he’s shared with him here, there’s some things he’s kept to himself… yep! regardless, he’s not leaving much opportunity to dig down further into that; he’s giving a short wave, chiming, ) Until then! ( and striding away. )