![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns
[ Knocking. The roar of ammunition fire in his ears. Blasts of heat and debris sticking to his face, dust crusting in his eyes. A delirious and delicious taste, sweet red like pomegranate, like Aki's skin scraping open in his mouth.
Denji doesn't talk much about what happened that day.
Not unusual, since he doesn't really talk much about any of what transpired prior to meeting Nayuta, either. Or about how sometimes he can still sense, not even hear, but sense a phone ringing in the distance, its pull like a spiral cord that's gone taut, that's trying to make its way back home and if he follows its trail, he might just find someone familiar on the other end of the receiver.
No, he doesn't tell anyone all that, because, see, the last time he did, Kishibe had just hummed and looked at him, the kind of look Denji would get from adults whenever they caught him picking through the dumpster for his next meal: pitying. Then, he'd shook out a flask from the inside of his coat and said, "Sometimes it's better for the line to go dead, kid."
Weird response, right? It'd made Denji go silent, think a bit. And after a while, he hadn't liked that so much, so he'd changed the subject to something inoffensive, like complaining about how much Nayuta's so much better at arcade games than he is, but Kishibe had cut him short at that point to go take a call.
Naturally, Denji had followed.
It's a little sad that a man in his silver years is the only person he can confide in, but Kishibe's not a bad guy — and that's coming from someone who generally hates men. Then again, the guy doesn't show his gaunt face around these parts unless he absolutely has to, which is probably by his own design, so it helps that he's never around long enough for Denji to get sick of seeing him. Up until that conversation, his absence wouldn't have been something Denji paid notice to. It'd usually take weeks and months and Nayuta asking where the funny, drunk geezer who always sneaks her hard candy is for him to see past the everyday chaos of being Tokyo's friendly neighborhood Chainsaw Man.
But as Denji creeped closer, overhearing some words but not registering most of them, a dangerous curiosity brought him to the edge of his hiding spot. What the hell has this dude been up to?
And then he'd froze.
"So the Gun Devil's position has been compromised. Initiate a tactical retreat."
Afterward, he hadn't done anything for a solid week besides go to school, kick some devil ass and stare vacantly at a pair of eggs frying in the pan for dinner each evening. Predictably, Nayuta had rapidly gotten sick of the menu. So before he could make his eighth pair of fried eggs, she'd scaled up his back and twisted his earlobes until he begged for forgiveness.
"Stuuupid! Dummy! Get a hold of yourself!" Nayuta raged on. "No more acting weird, or else I'm putting doggy kibble in your cereal again!"
She was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Yeah, he was dumb, but that didn't mean he had eggshells for brains. He could still do stuff in his own way.
In the following weeks, Denji spent his time hounding members of the Devil Hunter Club for all and any relevant knowledge pertaining to devils. From rumors about recent devil sightings, to insights into things like the theoretical mechanics behind how long it took for certain types of devils to die in Hell and be reborn, to mathematical equations projecting the survivability rate of fiends based on the velocity and quantity of violence…
Of course, he only understood about three-percent of anything at any given time, but one detail of interest shared by some gloomy, pig-tailed girl stood out to him. According to her, a mysterious amount of devils had been slain in the Kabukicho district, none of which had been reported by either civilian hunters or Public Safety ones.
Anyone with half their wits would be able to easily determine that this wasn't a reasonable lead, but for Denji? He could feel something trilling out to him. ]
Denji doesn't talk much about what happened that day.
Not unusual, since he doesn't really talk much about any of what transpired prior to meeting Nayuta, either. Or about how sometimes he can still sense, not even hear, but sense a phone ringing in the distance, its pull like a spiral cord that's gone taut, that's trying to make its way back home and if he follows its trail, he might just find someone familiar on the other end of the receiver.
No, he doesn't tell anyone all that, because, see, the last time he did, Kishibe had just hummed and looked at him, the kind of look Denji would get from adults whenever they caught him picking through the dumpster for his next meal: pitying. Then, he'd shook out a flask from the inside of his coat and said, "Sometimes it's better for the line to go dead, kid."
Weird response, right? It'd made Denji go silent, think a bit. And after a while, he hadn't liked that so much, so he'd changed the subject to something inoffensive, like complaining about how much Nayuta's so much better at arcade games than he is, but Kishibe had cut him short at that point to go take a call.
Naturally, Denji had followed.
It's a little sad that a man in his silver years is the only person he can confide in, but Kishibe's not a bad guy — and that's coming from someone who generally hates men. Then again, the guy doesn't show his gaunt face around these parts unless he absolutely has to, which is probably by his own design, so it helps that he's never around long enough for Denji to get sick of seeing him. Up until that conversation, his absence wouldn't have been something Denji paid notice to. It'd usually take weeks and months and Nayuta asking where the funny, drunk geezer who always sneaks her hard candy is for him to see past the everyday chaos of being Tokyo's friendly neighborhood Chainsaw Man.
But as Denji creeped closer, overhearing some words but not registering most of them, a dangerous curiosity brought him to the edge of his hiding spot. What the hell has this dude been up to?
And then he'd froze.
"So the Gun Devil's position has been compromised. Initiate a tactical retreat."
Afterward, he hadn't done anything for a solid week besides go to school, kick some devil ass and stare vacantly at a pair of eggs frying in the pan for dinner each evening. Predictably, Nayuta had rapidly gotten sick of the menu. So before he could make his eighth pair of fried eggs, she'd scaled up his back and twisted his earlobes until he begged for forgiveness.
"Stuuupid! Dummy! Get a hold of yourself!" Nayuta raged on. "No more acting weird, or else I'm putting doggy kibble in your cereal again!"
She was right. He needed to get a hold of himself. Yeah, he was dumb, but that didn't mean he had eggshells for brains. He could still do stuff in his own way.
In the following weeks, Denji spent his time hounding members of the Devil Hunter Club for all and any relevant knowledge pertaining to devils. From rumors about recent devil sightings, to insights into things like the theoretical mechanics behind how long it took for certain types of devils to die in Hell and be reborn, to mathematical equations projecting the survivability rate of fiends based on the velocity and quantity of violence…
Of course, he only understood about three-percent of anything at any given time, but one detail of interest shared by some gloomy, pig-tailed girl stood out to him. According to her, a mysterious amount of devils had been slain in the Kabukicho district, none of which had been reported by either civilian hunters or Public Safety ones.
Anyone with half their wits would be able to easily determine that this wasn't a reasonable lead, but for Denji? He could feel something trilling out to him. ]
2/2
[Cold.]
[He feels cold. Needs to find warmth. Blood and bits of rubble fall from his shoulders as his eyes search for the devil. He needs to find warmth, but he needs to kill Control, too.]
no subject
Rubbing at her head, she glares up to see a woman smiling down at her. She's young, unimposing, and wearing their uniform; out of place among the others, yet not at all. Seemingly disinterested in throwing herself into the fray.
It's too early to tell whether these are red flags.
The same hunter who had forced Nayuta out orders the woman to take her away to a new cell, and her head drops in feigned disappointment. An exaggerated sigh parting from her lips as she says something to the effect of being sad she can't be there to watch them beat Gun into submission. Someone cracks a joke back at her that Nayuta can't make out because, suddenly, there's a gush of water pouring out from the room, wetting the scrapes on her knees. As Nayuta scrambles to get back to her feet, the woman gives a little two-fingered salute to her coworker, and then casually snatches up the young devil's wrists, holding them above her head as she binds her into a pair of handcuffs. She nudges her along, but it feels more joking than commanding.
"Personally, little missy? In a fight between you and him, my bets were on you," she laughs. Walks side-by-side with Nayuta. Red flag or not, more important to Nayuta is that she looks easy enough to tether under her sway later. ]
…Thanks.
[ It's as they start walking that another one of her chains nicks the back of a rushing guard who stills awkwardly, then hurries forward to volunteer to take Gun to a new cell once he's disarmed. Seeing as his current one's unusable.
At this point, she probably doesn't terribly need Aki Hayakawa's assistance breaking out of this complex. He knows the lay of the land better than she does, but the way he is now… She and Denji are better off as a family of two. She stands by that.
But regardless, it's better for her to stay abreast of his whereabouts, rather than get taken off-guard. ]
no subject
Oh, Denji!
[That's right, of course! The memories continue leaking back in. Nayuta, that dummy, she said Denji was doing the hiding. They're supposed to be trying to find him. She wants the game to end, too - but Aki wants to win, wants to find him first and laugh when Nayuta comes rushing in, stamping her feet in frustration at the two of them already together. Hands clasped. Warm. That's right, that's where it's warm.]
Denji! Don't come out yet, I'll find you!
no subject
[The needle breaks skin and Gun sprints forward, only half of the dose entering his bloodstream and too slow to do any immediate damage. As he stands out in the hallway to search for a direction, a man is there, staring at him. Unguarded, expression still. He's not scared, but he's not attacking, either. Gun doesn't give him more than that second look, bursting past him at high speed as he rushes through the halls.]
Denji -
[He knows that one. He knows that warmth, for sure. That one will help, certainly, and once he has him, he can kill Control, and this will all be handled. The stone-faced man rushes after him, shouting to the men behind him, "I'll corner him into the next area! Meet me there to cut off his escape!" but Gun isn't really paying attention, searching for that faint scent he only vaguely remembers. He's not the type of devil to memorize scents, isn't interested in the faces of the humans around him - much less the devils. But this one, he knows. This one is Denji, and for some reason, he's important. He'll find him first, understand why later.]
[The human never interferes with him, anyway. Simply tails him as he rushes through the halls, hunting for a sign that tells him he's on the right path. Leaping down stairs, tearing down doors, panting and grunting as his metal arm scrapes against the ground. Hide and seek, hide and seek... Why do they have to play hide and seek?]
no subject
Each and every corridor is identical to the last up until they pass through a pair of double doors requiring badge entry. After that, padded rooms filled with dull-eyed devils thumping their heads against the glass or slumped in a corner greet them left and right. It's not obvious to the woman escorting her, but Nayuta's eye twitches a fraction. Being a security facility, the layout's likely designed to be confusing, but she can't at all follow where Gun is going with her minion. Is there an area like this one on the opposite side? Does he actually know where Denji is or is he just being kited by a blind feeling?
Static bzzts from the talkie strapped to the woman's waist.
All hunters on high alert — he's escaped! The hybrid's escaped! Tracking him through the upper west wing —
Several other voices follow, cutting one another off or relaying conflicting information ("He's headed south — no, wait, north now!"), rendering the frequency worthless. It's enough detail to put her assigned guard on edge, however, as she begins to switch to a different channel to provide her own update to someone into the receiver. But then she notices, with a glance to her side, that Nayuta isn't there anymore. She does a 180-degree swivel, but it's too late. ]
So who would you bet on winning? Between me and you?
[ Behind her is Nayuta, cuffed hands raised and gripped together, her index fingers pointed outwards straight at the woman. Before she can move, a chain plunges through her forehead and her head bounces back, as if from the impact, eyes rolling — then slides back forward like a flipped autopilot switch. Dazed and glassy.
First things first, Nayuta makes her release her wrists from the handcuffs.
Second, because it seems like Gun needs the extra hand, or rather, an extra diversion to keep too many people off his tail, she orders the woman to free all the devils in whichever wing or whatever they're in. She wasn't sure how she could do it, just knew that she wanted it to be done — and, somehow, that was enough. Nayuta follows the woman toward a hidden security panel at which she inserts her badge and taps at a few keys to remove the encryption lock on each door in the area. And with a wheezing noise breathing out from the airtight steel doors, each one unlatches. Swings open.
Steadily, one or two devils wander out. A few more. Several more. Then, a crowd. Then, more than that. They're no better than zombies, but despite the sedation, they begin to proliferate and push out through the other areas.
Running past all of them, Nayuta and the woman exit out a similar pair of double doors at the other end of the hall. They keep pushing forward, round a corner, another one, and there. Denji's smell — it's stronger.
Walls and meters away, a monotone man's voice relays: "Hey, Gunface! If you can hear me through that thick skull, head east! Denji's close!" ]
no subject
[Sweat. Warmth. Damp heat. He recognizes it. Metallic, oil, coppery wires. Stumbling on the landing, he turns around and clambers back up one flight, charging through the door into the dark corridor, more concrete and steel in his way. They're blasted back before he smells something putrid and terrible - ink.]
no subject
Nayuta?
[He's clearly surprised, looking at her standing some distance away down the road. She's looking for Denji, too, right?]
Ahh, we're gonna end up finding him at the same time, huh... What a pain. I never win hide and seek.
[But she probably knows Denji's hiding spots, doesn't she? She knows him pretty well by now. Hurrying down the snowy road, he wipes some of the snow
(rubble)from his shoulders as he approaches her.]You have any ideas? I feel like I've looked everywhere for him...
no subject
At any rate, she doesn't need to wait for Gun to go her own way. That's for certain.
The elevator ride to the lowest, darkest depths of the building is long. Every so often the joints of the electronic pulleys and controls rumble, the hydraulics hesitate, the lights flicker — she can hear the aftershocks of Gun's arrival to the area above her, but it doesn't stagger her own descent. Nayuta's gaze doesn't rise from the platinum panels of the doors in front of her, the blinking floor numbers glossing over her notice. There had only been one that mattered. Out of the several basement levels past the ground floor, she hadn't thought twice about pressing the very last button: 9C — where else would they keep Denji? Chainsaw Man?
Humans rarely have the opportunity to know true hell, unpolluted by their own theories and impositions. But in every system and structure and ring of theirs, they parody its inferno. Its nature of addressing sin and inflicting punishment, a place so treacherous devils have forsaken its memory — and they pretend with their contracts they can wield a fragment of that influence. They don't even know.
With a cheery ding, the light from the elevator spills open into the shadowed corridor, quiet and waiting. It's creepy, but it isn't fully dark; in blinking intervals, alarms from various corners splashes the area in red, as if projecting the bloodbath that could ensue any moment down here. Stepping out into the raised platform, her nose squirms with disdain — this place is pregnant with Denji, his scent still hot with engine oil, but then there's someone else there, too. Someone coldly dank and encompassing, suffusing the trail into every niche of this floor, making it hard to track. Takoyaki.
She turns toward the Public Safety hunter at her side, about to demand she take out anything useful to her search, but she pauses, as if sensing something, before changing directions to watch as the door to a nearby emergency stairwell flies out. Nayuta holds still, like someone sighting a bear and trying not to take any sudden action. The elevator light's long gone, but it seems he can tell she's there because he approaches. Says something garbled to her, but she can only really make out a sound that could be her name.
Wait. So he can recognize her as Nayuta, not just the Control Devil? ]
…Then, why the heck did you seriously attack me earlier? [ Nayuta mutters to herself, huffily. ] Okay, whoever you are right now, Gun, Aki Hayakawa — I don't care. You need to listen to me. There's another dude that we need to get rid of before we can save Denji —
[ "Hello," a muffled voice greets them from one of her skirt pockets. Earlier, she'd shoved the lady's radio away when she nabbed her, but just before… that's right, she fiddled with the thingamajigs to go to a different frequency. Nayuta tugs it out. "Does Denji's cute little sister have a moment?" ]
Nope! Give back Denji or you'll be deader than meat! Here, Gun, you tell this guy off, too.
[ A soft breath releases from the other line. "You may not understand it now, but your brother has a choice to make. It doesn't involve you — or him." ]
What're you talking about? He's mine — everything he does involves me!
[ "Not everything. Maybe you should ask him, next time, what he and Hayakawa-senpai do in their spare time. …Just kidding, you're a little young for that."
Her small hands squeeze at the device. Not understanding his words, but affected by them nonetheless.
"If you want to see Denji again, just stay put and let my colleagues escort you back upstairs. He's coming around, so you'll be reunited soon — "
She throws the radio up high, points at it soaring through the air. ]
Aki, shoot that thing. Shoot everything in here.
[ They're going to smoke this guy out. Besides, she's always preferred calamari. ]
no subject
Why have you got one of those? [Did she have one before? What a weird thing to have - are they playing soliders or something like that? Oh, or maybe Denji is giving them hints where he's hiding... But the voice on the other end doesn't sound like him at all. It's someone else - and he just said Denji's name.]
[She tells him to act and he sighs, looking at the trees surrounding them. They're really going to try and hit every hiding place at once? Well, knowing Denji, if it gets cold enough or if a lot of snow hits him, he's gonna start yelping and crying out and maybe that'll finally make it easy to tell where he is. It's just, there are so many trees... How is he going to hit them all at once? He grabs a handful of snow, chilly in his ungloved hand.]
no subject
[Whatever it is he's trying to find, it's somewhere here. He could kill the Control Devil right in front of him, but this hunt takes priority in his heart. Something warm is on this floor and that's what he's looking for. The Control Devil will come next. Raising his arm, bullets begin to spray through the hall, denting concrete and metal but not breaking through. There's a noise, like a reload, a magazine dropping from his arm, and a new spray begins. This one breaks through without any difficulty.]
[Whatever he's looking for, he's not supposed to destroy it. Which is so antithetical to who he is. Destroy and kill, that's what he loves. That's what he does. But this is a hunt and find. If he finds it dead, then...]
[Then, he doesn't know. Another magazine drops and melts and he continues to fire indiscriminately through the hall, only pausing in his shooting to avoid shooting Control. No, not her yet. But soon.]
no subject
Where they're at, it's dark, but somewhere ahead, near the what looks to be another gated corridor, she can make out a moving shape that's even inkier than their surroundings. It's body is long and flexible, seeming to host rows upon rows of boils across its skin, from one unseeable end to the next. She isn't sure what it is at first, can't tell its head from its tail, if it originated from the entry point it's nearest to or some other ungodly place…
But its presence can only mean one thing. They're getting warmer. ]
There.
[ She points. Whatever devil this thing is, it only exists right now to them as a blockade. ]
Denji is there. Go fetch him.
no subject
["Denji is there." He knows the name "Denji." That same warmth he's supposed to find. Alright, he figures, he'll get it - not because of her, but because it's what he's searching for. Like the tug of his own body, faint and weak within this building, he's hunting, and this is his prize: something warm, something that belongs to him. Whatever this Denji is that he's seeking, it belongs to him.]
[Gun sprints forward, letting the emptied magazines litter the ground in a murky mess in a sort of trail as he follows the faint sign of movement in the darkness. He still has one human hand, able to reach through the muck and grapple through the wreckage he's created, but it's hard to see with his pinned vision. He can aim when he's far, but getting up close has never been a talent of his. Doesn't need to be. He accomplishes enough when he's far away. If his target runs, so does he, speed matching his own bullets. Those are part of him, after all - of course he can move just as quickly, just as violently as them.]
[His hand wraps around the arm of something squishy and slimy and the nozzle of his rifle stabs into it. No pause, no hesitation - contact is made, he fires. The blast spears through the devil and he reaches out through the new muck in search of that thing. The thing that belongs to him. It's his, he wants to snap, his. Too many things, he's had taken from him. This will no longer be counted among the lost parts. Even if he has no idea what it is.]
no subject
[Is what Aki had said when Nayuta told him that Denji was that way. The shadowy mass rushing down the forest path, now open and letting in the sunlight that, despite how it should be, only amplifies how cold he feels. A footrace, he figured, since Denji's breaking the rules as usual and running off when he's supposed to stay in his hiding spot. Past the cloak he must be hiding himself with, rushing down that same snowy path, he can't help but laugh at how strange it is. For Denji to be running from him... What, is he that scared of losing? Since when does Denji ever try and run away from Aki, of all people? Doesn't he know that it's just him?]
Denji! Come on, you've lost, already! Let's go get something warm to drink.
no subject
Now, would probably be a great time for a badass escape from this moldy prison cell, but… ]
What's going on out there? Hey. Don't ignore me!
[ The legs of his chair creak as he hops and scoots himself closer to his classmate, heels dragging against the floor. He's got a pitted feeling in his stomach, like he's about to receive a trilling call any moment here with bad news. Worse orders. ]
Hey —
[ "You're not the only person in the world who's greedy, Denji."
There's sweat forming at Yoshida's brow when he finally turns to regard him again. Denji's never seen him look like that before. His voice is still as measured as ever, severely at odds with his tight expression. "There are churchmen who hope you'll save them, protestors who hope you'll disappear from sight — you can't control what they want from Chainsaw Man. Or what they'll do, how they'll deal with Nayuta to get what they need. Even someone like Hayakawa-senpai, you can't fully trust. I wanted to show you all of that in-person." ]
Oh, bullcrap! Aki — [ His eyes twinge, the feeling slight. Easy to ignore. ] He just wants me to live like an ordinary high schooler. [ "So do I — " ] Shuddup! You stole me and my clothes, don't pretend you're not some pervert weirdo —
[ "Is it ordinary for him to jerk you off? To have sex with you while your little sister is in the next room?" ]
…Uh, what? How'd you…
[ Yoshida's eyes don't blink, don't move from him, fixed in what he can only assume is displeasure. Like someone's arrived unannounced, and now he has to go brew some tea. "We're out of time. I'll be seeing you, Denji."
A splinter opens in the wall, crawling fast from top to bottom, then bursts out like veins in a body under too much pressure. Denji and his chair fly back from the magnitude of the blow, the sonic force of it, his seat lost somewhere in the rushing rubble, the bindings at his ankles snapping. He hits the ground rolling, breathing in ground cement and then coughing it back up. ]
What… the hell…? [ Eyes squinting through the dark smoke, Denji shoves himself to his knees. Tries to bite through the rope at his wrists until he makes out a figure too tall to be Nayuta. Could it be — ]
Asa?
[ No. That bulk standing from the back of that head. ]
Wait, haha… What? What?
no subject
[Aki squats down to Denji's level, unable to keep the quiet feeling of pride fully hidden on his features. Pride at finding him, at not giving up, at Denji, himself - who he is, how he lives... He doesn't know, but the warmth he was looking for is right here, always has been. He's pleased and reaches out to snag him by the arm arm, pull him up from the cold snow.]
Come on - I know a shortcut. Let's get out of here, okay?
no subject
[He doesn't really know how, but it is.]
[Well, that doesn't matter. He doesn't really care about things like why. A wide grin crossing his face to see his prize sitting before him, Gun raises his arm and fires through the wall right past Denji, the bullets whizzing through the concrete and creating a new exit, which Gun merrily follows. He leans down to scoop Denji up under his arm as he springs through the passageway, a long corridor of holes laid out before him with only darkness ahead. He's not clever enough to understand that he's underground right now, doesn't connect the dots of moving down the stairs with the chill in the air from the lower level. Hell, he barely comprehends that there is no way "out" until he reaches the edge of his bullet-created passage and has to look around for the first time, coming to the realization that he can't simply move "forward" like he usually does. No, this is more like a maze.]
[And like most mazes, the best way out is through. Raising his head, he fires through the ceiling, hoisting Denji up and preparing to leap.]
no subject
[ There's no place for him to go as the one he knows as Aki, must be Aki, can’t be anyone else other than Aki, approaches. Though had there been, he would have surely stayed put, forced himself stationary, even if it meant cutting his own legs off at the knee.
Let me be the one to find you, next time.
…Okay. I'll try. I promise.
That's what they said hardly any time ago. And, maybe, it was a promise meant for much downer the road, after Denji had paid his dues as a student, settled down and mellowed out into adulthood. It doesn't matter. It wasn't some one-time use coupon with an expiration date, a contract that ended after both parties did what they had to, got what they wanted, it was — his word. Still is. Even as Aki garbles sounds at him, supports his weight, and wears that face, or as a smattering of footsteps beats out against the pavement to get to them, someone yelling, Don't leave without me! ]
Wait, wait, that — [ Memory floods him. That's right. They'd gotten into a weird talk about this and that, and… she was there during that devil fight, too! ] That was Nayuta! Turn back. Turn around, Aki. We gotta…
[ He's wriggling now, like a fish held above water for too long, trying to look back and see his sister through the limited light. Flag her their way. ]
Just hold on, we'll come get ya… Eh?
no subject
Nayuta walks forward into the glow of flickering fluorescence from a mangled light fixture hanging from the ceiling, finger pointed. ]
Forget something, big guy?
no subject
[One more thing, right? Yeah.]
[Without a word or a sound mimicking one, Gun walks over to Nayuta and grabs her, scooping her under the rifle armin a non-gentle but non-threatening manner, the same way you'd snag a duffel bag from a pile at the airport. It's incredibly awkward with how solid the gun is, but somehow it warps itself and bends in just the right way to secure her against his side, the cold but living mass tense like a muscle controls it rather than metallic pistons. Wrapping his other arm around her, he turns his head up again, tilting back to aim. Beyond where she came from, he can faintly hear the sound of voices, more people arriving, but none of it stops him or makes him question whether he's making the correct choice. He just fires, then leaps, springing out of the concrete and through the hole he's made in the ceiling as he fires forward. The blast showers hard concrete and stone and wood down on them but Gun doesn't mind, springing through the wreckage and smoke until his feet land on a stable surface a few floors up from where they are. He can smell blood up here - fresh blood - but doesn't bother to look around to see any people he may have collapsed a wall on or killed, instead firing upward again to create the next exit.]
[And he'll repeat this, firing up, springing up, his arms full with two things - two devils, one of which he hates and the other of which he is pretty sure is important in some manner - and a chain clinking from the back of his head, all the way until he either gets stopped or reaches his target: the roof. Outside. Freedom.]
no subject
This Aki moves like a weapon on a set trajectory, like he's got coordinates to follow. He should have never let him swallow that bullet.
But Denji, himself, is in such a state of internal disarray, he can scarcely react or say so much as a word as whole building composites rain around them. People run. People die. Escaped devils scatter in the presence of someone, something, superior. He can't even be bothered to raise his arms to protect his face from flyaway debris. A corner of his eye stings, and he feels wetness slide down his cheek; Nayuta tries to get his attention with a few pats to his elbow. He can't even afford the distraction of a simple blink. He can't risk it. Missing a moment watching the unflinching outline of Aki bulldozing his way to the top, still straining his vision to make out what could be his imagination and what's reality. Denji waves her away, not looking back to see the expression she makes.
The helicopter's the first thing he notices up there, when they can finally breathe air that isn't riddled with some other dusty substance. Nayuta's feet are already touching down on solid ground as she walks ahead of them, arms crossed, and a chain swaying from her midsection. ]
Nayuta, [ he calls out, still hanging from Aki's hold. His toes stretching out below to join her. She's approached the helipad, inspecting their only mode of transportation from this area.
"You can fly this, can't you?" she asks. ]
Who, Aki? [ Denji finally pries himself free, but still has to hold on to Aki to avoid tripping and falling. ] He's only got one arm. And no eyes.
[ "Not him. You."
The clamor of footsteps and shouted orders behind them is getting louder, rising as high as a tidal wave. Nayuta hops on to the side bar, beginning to unlatch the door.
"You drove that motorcycle before without knowing how. I saw you — you and that woman. All you've gotta do is turn this thing —" She grunts, shoving aside a few crates and extraneous equipment to make room for Denji to board. A second later, she pops her head back out of the opening. "Into a super high-powered monster chainsaw-copter! Then we'll be able to get away."
She's serious. ]
You're serious… Uh, well, c'mon, let's get in, Aki —
[ "No, let him stay."
Denji freezes.
"He wants to stay." Like light spearing through stained glass, a beautiful glint shines from Nayuta's spiraled gaze. She looks familiar — not in the way the little girl he's played with and helped raise looks familiar every day, but a different kind. An older familiarity. "That's why he's like that, Denji. He wants to leave and be alone. He's tired of being with all these people. Even us. You can ask him, if you really want to." ]
…Aki?
[ Denji's hand hasn't lifted from Aki's arm, his hold only tightening when he turns to look back at him. ]
no subject
[He feels happy up here, with Denji.]
[Nayuta says something about them going away and for a moment, Aki doesn't really get it. Because they're enjoying their curfew-less, chore-less, barley tea-less life up here, right? Even if it's only temporary, why is she so eager to end it? What else is there for them out there? It's all empty, it's all formless. None of it's warm, not like it is right here. He feels Denji look up at him and say his name, like he's asking if it's true he's just planning to spend the rest of his life up here, watching from afar, never engaging in order to never feel that chill.]
[But is it any better up here, either? He'll get lonely, up here. But he's lonely a lot, if he thinks about it. One day Denji won't need him at all anymore, he's got Nayuta, and other people are bound to come into his life, too... And then, what'll Aki be doing? Sitting up in this tree? Being above it all? He doesn't know. He doesn't know what he's meant to do. Just that, at some point, someone's going to yell at him from that tree-lined path again, shout at him to come down and finish his homework before dinner. That's always how it happens, isn't it.]
no subject
Den-ji.
[Gurgled out like blood caked in his throat, though it's not from lack of effort. He used a lot of gunpowder just now, a lot of his power. So now, what's this one saying? He feels his human arm get squeezed and reaches out to grab at Denji's elbow, snatching it like swatting a fly - or, more accurately to his mood, like grabbing the tail of a cat that sways near your face.]
Denji.
[He wasn't listening to whatever they were saying, but he stares toward Denji without caring at that, a weird smile on his face, full of teeth and predatory. It's not a threatening smile, because you don't threaten your dinner plate as you sit down with a knife and fork to eat from it. There's no malice or hatred in the expression, even as his grip gets rougher and more exacting, fingers digging into his elbow to keep him right where he is.]
[He brought him and Control up here, sure, but beyond that, it's clear there was no further planning or coordination with his actions. Just a desire to be out and free.]
no subject
When Aki says his name, it never sounds like he's asking him for anything. He really wishes he would learn to say things clearly. ]
Yeah. Den-ji.
[ He grins back at Aki, bitterly. Endlessly bitter — like the gusting wind scalping all the feeling from his back, like taking a swig from barley tea and tasting only a mouthful of toasted grain, none of the warmth. Aki can crush his elbow, break down the cartilage, rend it from the joint. If that's what he wants, Denji wants it too.
Turn back, he'd cried, begged, bled for until he'd been blown unrecognizable and dismembered all throughout the precise streets Aki introduced him to. Walked with him on day-offs. Taught him the short-cuts to get back home, where to discard the recycling, who lives next door. Gave him a key to use to let himself in whenever he wanted. God, what if he'd said something else instead? Found a path forward that didn't involve committing the worst offense imaginable or fleeing from the crime scene. Didn't succumb to instinct. Would it have made a difference?
Maybe not then. But what about now? ]
Denji won't turn his back on you, [ he says, echoing all the learned gentleness and resolve he can summon to his voice. His stupid freaking voice, made nasally by how desperately he wants this one thing to be true. His grin bails down into a reedier smile, his back knuckle scrubbing at the droplets sloping down from the cut on his cheek. He doesn't notice how the red staining his hand is watered down by something else.
He wrenches at his starter cord.
A mechanical purr explodes out from his chest, trilling his veins, heat and steel stealing away his senses. Overriding the pain that always follows with the usual burst of energy and strength that deforms his body, unforms his identity, all in the name of a serrated likeness. It's the correct amount of force he needs to dislodge from Aki for a moment. Blood — his blood — spits to the ground. Listing to the side, Denji's naked heel digs into the concrete, as he tackles into Aki's waist, trying to throw him over a shoulder and drag him inside the helicopter, come hell or high water — both of which seem to be what's on their tails as Public Safety hunters finally clamber up the broken opening to the rooftop, beginning to arrange into formation. ]
Move, Nayuta!
[ Obviously, he's never so much as flown on an airplane, let alone piloted an aircraft. But it can't be that hard. In spite of the widespread look of disapproval on Nayuta's face, she starts to push the door shut with every ounce of her grade schooler strength. He shoves Aki into the back as he climbs into the pilot's seat and wraps his hands around what looks like… a joystick? Hey, he has one of those at home.
As Denji messes with the helicopter panels and controls, the aircraft propellers start to spin — without lifting them. Or lift them, before then landing right back down on the helipad. Give him a bit. ]
no subject
[The devil snags him around the waist and he's being dragged into the helicopter. Tumbling around in the rear of it, he pulls himself up and shakes his head as the rifle arm clangs loudly on the wall beside the door. He tries to wave it like he hit his funny bone, swinging it as it clatters against the metal roof. The doors to the top of the building's roof, meanwhile, slam open, and there's little pause before people in uniform are pouring out. The one in front, he's so normal-looking, it's almost disturbing. But like Denji said, Gun can't really see. All he can do is kill.]
[There's no fanfare or hesitation, no pause or consideration for what he does. He raises the rifle, aiming it out the door of the helicopter, and fires. The men are splattered in seconds, their hearts bursting from the gunfire, as the man in front shields his face. But he's unscathed. Gun lowers the rifle, cocking his head to the side. Curious.]
["My birthday's October 10th," the man says, voice grim and hard, like he's gritting his teeth. "Mirror," he orders before Gun can aim again, and the ground opens below them, revealing a large glass surface that reflects the sky above the helicopter. The hunter turns his fist and the mirror turns with it, beginning to scoop them like they're fish in a net. Gun fires, barely raises his arm to do so, and sends a spiderweb of cracks through the surface of the mirror, making it shudder before it shatters, quaking and falling over the helicopter and smashing them inside. The helicopter goes into free fall - then promptly lands on hard grass, listing to the side against a sea of trees. Gun lowers his rifle, turning his head to look around briefly.]
[Then he starts climbing out, prepared to begin walking. Not that he has a destination in mind. But he's never been the sort to enjoy sitting still. He reaches out blindly to search for Denji again, that thing he's supposed to keep ahold of. Still unsure why - Just sure that it's important enough to warrant the effort. No indigestion for him, thanks.]
no subject
Nayuta. Get up, get up…
[ Denji's seen enough dead people strewn about the city — most of the time from devil attacks, other times his own blunders — to know that Nayuta's breathing. Her eyes may be closed and she may not be responding and there's blood trickling from her hairline, but her brow's furrowed. Her body's warm. The weightless spinning in his head starts to calm. She'll be okay; she has to be.
About to scoop her up, he makes another alarmed noise when he feels his arm yanked back by a death grip. His first reaction is to swing out a bladed arm, kick his blistered feet, push his heels in. ]
A-Aki?! Not so hard — a-and, hey, not so fast! Where d'you think you're goin'? I gotta take her with us!
[ But when he realizes it's Aki that has his him cuffed, he quells the compulsion to fight back. Lets himself get dragged bodily out into the open wilderness, though he's certainly not thrilled about it. Denji tries a different tactic: hastily trying to move ahead of Aki, he steps in his path and places a hand on his rifle-arm. ]
Aki, Aki, listen to me. We can go, but she comes with us. Okay?
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
1/2
2/2
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)
(no subject)