windfall | light a cigarette, i'll watch as it burns

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. ]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I have Denji. [ She whips the words out like a switchblade she had prepared in her back pocket. ] He's way heavier than an ounce.

[ That's not what he means, Nayuta gets that, but she's been itching to say it. To declare her ownership a second time, in case she didn't make it clear the first. She also gets that Denji's not quite like other humans, that it isn't just his heart that sets him apart. He's so stupid, hopelessly trying to breathe underwater despite being an animal that can only live locked to the land. What Half-Gun's been doing is trying to give a dog scuba gear. It's funny, but tiring to watch — that's why she's the only shepherd he needs. The only family.

She shuts the faucet off, stooping down to pick up the fussing dog's half-empty bowl and shaking the contents as she leads it away. ]

But I guess you're trying to say you're a better owner than me?

[Right. This conversation again. Having Denji versus Denji being his own person. Aki knows not to jump on it, knows to let sleeping dogs lie. Denji doesn't need the added stress.]

[...His ass kind of hurts, come to think of it.]

I'm not arguing anything with you.

[Blunt. Straightforward. Since he's not the head of the house and can't exactly report her misbehavior to a superior, he can't treat this situation like he did in the past. Even if some of the ways she speaks and moves remind him uncomfortably of Power.]

[At least it's not Makima.]

[He continues making breakfast, miso soup, a fried egg sunny side up. Sausage on the side, a small salad. A normal breakfast. A healthy breakfast. No one in the right mind can complain about that.]

[He places the dishes down in front of the devil first, then fills out the rest of the table. Pointing to the salad, he says,] Finish it all and you get dessert.

Why not? You trying to get on Denji's good side?

[ Before it can register that it's likely he's just following his own advice and not donating his attention to anyone trying to rile him up, dog or devil, Nayuta's gaze switches to the food-brimmed table. All of it smells goo — er, acceptable, but because the Gun specifies the salad, she makes a show of sniffing at it twice. Her nose picks up sesame mingled in with a sweet acidity in the dressing. It'll probably taste just fine.

She looks up at him, an expectant hand held out. ]

If you gimme dessert now… [ I'll eat it all, Nayuta almost says, but actually, she doesn't think this guy cares that much about that. Or about her. Which is fine, the feeling's mutual, but what's something she could dangle that might put him in his place? ]

I'll tell you something about yesterday. When he left you for me.

[Denji's good side, huh. What good has that ever gotten him? Even if he's on his good side, half the time he tells him the weirdest translation of his thoughts that Aki has to mull through to get to the root of. And then it turns out to be something simple like being lonely. Mourning. Basic human emotions that he should understand by now. Someone else should have had these conversations with him years ago.]

[But then she offers that, and it seems like something Aki should consider. Given how yesterday went - that phone call, how he crawled into bed with him, told him to accept his hand as some sort of repayment while refusing to explain what he was being repayed for. What he's repenting for.]

[But he also lived with Power for half a year and just as soon as he looks up to listen to her, he looks back down to place his hands together and silently thank whoever it is for the meal.]

Denied. Eat your greens.

Eat my…

[ …As she thought, Aki Hayakawa needs to die.

It's just as her thinking begins to twist and ripple out like the scores within a chain-link fence, Denji reappears, shaking out the dog hair from his uniform jacket. Nayuta quickly moves her sights to him, staring at her brother as if he were doing something impressively tiresome. He gives her an unspoken what? in return, seating himself between them. Scoffing, she copies the other hybrid, clapping her hands together and looking away. ]

You two gettin' chummy?

[ Whispered to Aki as Nayuta grumpily tears into a bed of greens. He heard some talking from inside the bedroom, but nothing too clear as to give him an idea of what they were discussing. But from his perspective, coming out to see nobody bleeding or swearing, as well as all the furniture intact, is as good a sign as any.

Maybe I should push for the family trip, anyway…

Family. It's a slip of the tongue, except not really, because he didn't say it aloud, but Denji still feels sheepish just thinking it. Awkward and complicated, and a little hopeful. Aki said it wasn't a good idea, but maybe he'll bring it up again later. Trips are an important part of normal living. In the meanwhile, he takes a stab at his own salad bowl. ]

What're you gonna do while we're gone, Aki? I don't wanna always make ya act like a wife or somethin' and clean up after us the whole time. Maybe you should do… fun stuff?

[There's a flicker of - something. Something in his gut hated that. The way she looked at him, maybe? Aki isn't sure. But Denji comes out shaking his jacket around in the air and the feeling fades a little. If it is Gun, why is he only distressed by Control? Shouldn't he be just as upset by Denji?]

[Whatever. He doesn't care about that thing. He's about to start eating when Denji first asks him if they're getting chummy - of course not, but all he does is return a raised eyebrow, as if asking if he actually thinks that, but his entire brow raises at what he says next. A wife...?? He thinks he's acting like a housewife...?!]

Fun stuff...

[Doesn't he get that he's gone through trauma? Aki doesn't want to do fun stuff. He picks up his own bowl of salad and mixes it with the dressing, frowning down at it.]

Maybe I'll go day drinking. [Said wryly.] I'll find something to busy myself. I always do. [Briefly he glances at the devil, as if debating saying this in front of her, but decides she's really not that threatening when Denji, himself, is around, so who cares.] Just make sure that you don't have too much "fun," yourself. [He knows what he means. No chainsaw-ing.]

[After a moment, almost off-handedly, he mutters to himself,] Maybe I'll stop by the old place. [And maybe he's just tired, or not thinking, but in that brief moment of half-thought he actually forgets that he destroyed that building. That he destroyed the entire neighborhood. He takes a bite, then reaches for the dressing and adds a splash more to the bowl.]

[ Day drinking… Denji tilts his head with a hum as he eats, as if to say, Well, that's an idea. Not realizing Aki is joking until he's moved on to other ideas. Truthfully, that would have been fine, if he really wanted to introduce a few beer cases to their fridge — he guesses the feds don't usually let their devils destress and booze it up. Dumb rules. He tries to imagine coming home to a tipsy Aki again, after all this time. Shoulders looser, face pinked with a good buzz; that wouldn't be so bad.

But then he mentions their old apartment. Though Denji still feeds food into his mouth, his lips twitch down into a skeptical frown. Clearly thinking back to last night, how he'd found him in the bedroom. Hovering over the box. Aki's box, so he'd had a right to sift through its contents, technically. It's just… It'd bothered him how that chipped and ruined blade of his tilted so easily into his palm, breaking skin, making him look paler than a sheet with cut-out holes for eyes. Paler than Denji, and he was the one with the fever. Or maybe his paleness suited more that of someone emerging from the wreckage of an accident, face painted in dust and soot, finding air for the first time.

Who knows. He's not sure if he wants to see it again. He'd bear it, though, if it meant not letting Aki out of his sight for more than he already has to. ]

Oh, really? [ It comes out calm. Almost lazy, in that usual way of his. He's stopped eating. ] If you wait for me, I could go with you. I'll go straight home this time —

[ Loud slurps come from Nayuta's end as she sips from her soup, prompting Denji to turn and look at her. Expecting her to have an opinion, at this point. "Don't be so clingy, Denji. Aren't there some things even a Half-Gun can want to do on his own?" ]

[ After a moment of thinking it over, he says: ] Don't call him that.

[ As for her question, reluctance punctuates his steadily bunching brow. Jerking off comes to mind, but Aki doesn't really need to go off to a boarded up neighborhood to do that. Still… there probably are other experiences Aki can only have without him there. ] Umm… But yeah, I guess, that's true. [ He glances back at the man in question. ] Up to you.

[Aki begins to say something about how Denji was asking him what he was planning to do while he was gone, that them going together would kind of defeat that purpose, but under that he's a little concerned with his clinginess, how this isn't like how he was before. How he never asked what Aki was up to on the weekends, how he was never so nosy to invite himself along to things. And is he still like that, or is it different because it's Aki? He doesn't know. But before he can think much of any of that, the devil is calling him Half-Gun again and he seriously wants to smack her in the head.]

[...But Denji mostly deals with it, so he looks down and takes a long drink from his glass.]

I don't mind either way. If you wanted to go by there - I just wondered how the neighborhood was...

[...And then it hits him. That he blew it up.]

[He downs the rest of the drink, setting the empty glass down and exhaling. Opens his eyes and looks at the devil. He needs a distraction, right now. She's one.]

If all you plan to do is antagonize me, I'll treat you like the other devils I've dealt with. Denji can attest to how fun that is. [He lets that mild threat sink in for a moment.] They don't get anything sweet.

[He points to himself.]

Aki. Surely even you can remember two syllables.

[ So vile, this one's stink is. Like having a leaking trash bag sitting at the table, dictating what she can and can't have for breakfast — who gave him the right? Just one flick of her finger, she could get him barking on his knees and sniffing butts with the other dogs in this apartment.

…Except her last attempt didn't end in her favor, and if Denji catches one whiff of disagreement between them, it's self-evident he'll intervene. She doesn't need to meet his concerned gaze to know what will happen, his scent tells her enough; the same smokey quality that sticks to the other hybrid reeks from his shirt, too, now. It's that smell alone that feels like a physical clamping down on her own shoulder, holding her back from correcting the situation in her preferred way. She breathes harshly through her nose, the image not unlike a bull scuffing its hooves against the ground. ]

I'm the best student in my class! I could remember 20,000 syllables, if I wanted to.

[ Her eyes narrow, seeing Denji squeeze a hand around the man's knee. Seeming to want him to calm down, knowing it's too late for Nayuta to. ]

What about you, Gunny? You've never once called me my name. Always 'devil this,' 'devil that,' like you're so much better. Why do I have to be the only one who has to be nice, huh?!

[The response is immediate, cold:] Don't call me that.

[His skin feels like ice just hearing it. She's worse than Power, he decides, because at least Power was obviously wrong in everything she said. This one - sometimes she's right, and that's extremely annoying. Aki decides it simply doesn't warrant a response, that he's never actually referred to her by her name. He's barely referred to her at all, just that devil when talking to Denji. Still.]

I made you a meal. That qualifies as me being nice to you. Eat it quietly and don't be a bother. [How in the world does this devil go to school every day? What was Denji thinking, sending her off into society? Considering how Makima ended up, he should just take her down sooner rather than later. But of course someone like him is never going to agree with that idea.] You, too. [And he swats Denji's hand off his thigh, nodding toward his meal.]

[ By how Aki had trailed off then redirected his focus to Nayuta, he has no clue which is bothering him more, thinking about their old neighborhood or the deepening sense of animosity from the little devil. Either way, he'd hoped his touch would help buffer the molotov cocktail of feelings radiating from him — and, therefore, Gun — but, with a tired expression, he surrenders to having his hand knocked away, tucking his fingers under his leg. Geez, what is it with these two? Can't they go one conversation without a tense stalemate? Maybe he's one to talk, but… ah, seriously, this is a dining table, not a battlefield! ]

Aki…

[ He gives him one last apprehensive look. He gets it, this is his way of defusing the situation. But his impressions of what he thought was a 'chummy' atmosphere from them have suddenly flipped on its head, and now he's wondering if things have actually gotten worse. Hostility and distrust isn't indicative of hatred, but it could easily make the trip there. …At least he doesn't have to send their furniture flying out. ]

It's good, right, Nayuta? [ The ferocity in her stare remains for a good second, stubbornly aimed at Aki — before then glancing to her side, at Denji. Her body language seems to, not quite relax, but untighten. Like a predator giving up on the hunt, her shoulders drop when he addresses her, mouth pursed. She takes another sip of her soup. Briefly, a wave of relief swims through him. ] I can't even make half this stuff. We oughta enjoy it before we have to go back to eating store-bought food.

[ He hates bringing that up. That this is a far from impermanent arrangement, but the reminder is more for Nayuta's benefit than his. And she's still the most important thing to him. ]

Oh, but I guess he did teach us how to steam fish, so we can always make that when he's gone. You're better at remembering things than I am, so I bet you know all the steps by heart after just watchin' him that one time.

[ She does. Made apparent by how she rolls her eyes at him, in a, Well, obviously, I remember, sort of way, and then launches into rattling off the very steps Aki taught them. There we go.

Silently sighing, he finally feels the air has eased enough for him to enjoy his meal again. Denji adds another cut of egg to his plate. Without looking at Aki, he asks him: ] You want some more?

[It's annoying. What is? That he's not the one in control here. They're all on a strangely-shaped scale, misbalanced, tilting this way and that. Some moments the devil is in control, making Denji do what she wants him to and ignoring Aki. Other moments, like this one, it's Denji who's able to wrest control and command the situation, steer them away before another fight erupts. And Aki...]

[It's childish. He wants to blame it on his previous year. Spending all that time with no power over himself, at the mercy of his caretakers - of course he would want to exercise some form of control after all that. And before that, his relationship with Denji was very much one where he was in control. Senpai-kouhai. But now Denji is the one holding the reins, and how frustrating is that? Watching this kid who cried on a payphone last night over the idea Aki might hate him, now tempering a devil like this from calling him names with a reminder that their invader won't be here much longer when he knows it'll just make him pound the floor in fury when it happens. It's so embarrassing.]

[He offers him food and Aki shakes his head. Closes his eyes as he downs the rest of his soup. He doesn't bother correcting the devil on anything she says. There's nothing to correct, anyway.]

[If Gun would just - ] - let me die...

[He startles, surprised the words slipped out of his mouth. Mostly swallowed by the empty bowl, but still. What the hell. Where did that even come from? Aki swallows and sets the bowl down, pushing himself to his feet to get the dessert he promised her: mochi ice cream, which he made yesterday at some point and planned to use for bartering. His old habits with Denji and Power are still ingrained in his mind.]

[ Did he just…

The leftover omelette splats back down on the plate. It's not so strange an occurrence as to wholly draw Nayuta's attention from her sermon, but he sits incredibly, unerringly still, keenly conscious that, if he doesn't, he'll do something that will. Quietly watching Aki's form busy himself in the kitchen, his fist raises to his mouth, part of his knuckle hooked between his teeth, gnawing. What triggered that reaction? Something Nayuta said or did? No, by then, he'd already sidetracked her. He'd done something good, something Aki should have been proud of him for, for getting her off his back.

So then what? What did he do wrong?

Crap, he can't take it anymore. ]

One of his hands doesn't work good, [ he says, a little too rushed. Had been saving that one for if she asked about their bath this morning, but he figures it should work as a catch-all. ] So I'm gonna help him. Just sit here.

[ Excusing himself, he expertly walks over the dogs loafing beside their empty bowls, appearing next to Aki and pulling open the first drawer he sees. It's filled with larger cooking instruments, like ladles, spatulas, and things. Nothing necessary for dessert, but he fiddles around with a rolling pin in there to look busy, anyway. Lifting it up, putting it back down. Playing it super normal. He could be of actual use by preparing the spoons and bowls, maybe clearing the table of any finished dishes, but he has a feeling he'd just get waved off again. ]

Hey, can we talk?

[All he's doing is getting the two balls of frozen mochi-wrapped ice cream onto a plate and reaching for the smaller spoons, but he hears Denji getting up behind him, excusing the reason as helping. He doesn't need help, he could snap, but instead he just feels a cold chill down his back. Tells himself it's not anything as Denji starts fiddling with random things in the kitchen, placing himself close enough that he can't ignore him. Except he can still, of course, and play at this being totally - ]

[...He heard that, didn't he.]

We already talked. [What was that conversation in the bathroom, if not a talk? It's still a cold thing to say and he knows it, looking at Denji sidelong. Holds up one of the plates for him - strawberry flavored.] Here. Eat up, and get ready. It's getting late. [And what he says next is meant to assuage any concerns, but even as he speaks he knows it sounds hollow, right after that slip of the tongue.] I'll be fine on my own today, I always am.

[...Shallow. Stupid. It sounds like an excuse, even as something heavy settles in his gut, drops low inside him and weighs down his thoughts. How frustrating it all is, to be in limbo like this. To know the time is limited and that, even if it wasn't, he couldn't do anything for Denji, anyway. Not in his current form.]

[ His jaw tenses, attempting to curb and stomp down on that old surliness that used to always show itself when they were early into coexisting with one another. When the nature of their relationship hadn't yet attained some approximation of mutual respect needed between a senior hunter and his direct report. Not Aki and Denji, but superior and inferior. Human and devil.

This isn't that, he — thinks. Can only guess, really. ]

Fine. [ Denji takes the bowl, setting it down on the counter space in front of him. Doesn't look at Aki as he nicks into the mochi with his spoon, doesn't care if he get berated for not waiting to eat at the table. He needs something else to concentrate on. ] That case, you better remember what we talked about. No gettin' amnesia. No changing your mind without tellin' me.

[ Aki can't find him, can't hold up his end of their persistently changing and ping-ponging bargain, if he's gone. Just thinking about it has his spoon flitting in and out of his mouth with each anxious bite, not even letting the strawberry melt on his tongue before swallowing it down. ]

Don't…

[ Freeze me out, he wants to continue saying, voice tightening for a split second. But he stops himself for making another unreasonable request.

He knows Aki's only lived his life one way, for one purpose, up until the past year. Told him as much last night that he wanted to understand where he was coming from better when he does something that confuses him. Scares him. So maybe panicking like this, trying to chain his ankle to a stake in the ground, isn't the most ideal reaction when he's clearly dealing with too much as is. But it's not as if Denji has some guide on how to act human and normal when someone bricks himself away inside a cold fortress that he can't thaw or chip at fast enough. ]

Never mind. [ Bowl emptied, he drops it into the sink, flicking the faucet on to give it a cursory rinse. ] You're right, it's getting late. Nayuta!

[ He calls out to her about getting their bags prepared and whatnot, so she can take a bit of her time to enjoy her dessert, then get ready. Which she does, happily. Nayuta likes mochi ice cream. Maybe it's because she's sensing the discord looming over the two of them, could be just because she likes her dessert, but she's in rather good spirits by the end of breakfast. She helps with clearing out the table of the dirty dishes and glasses, shoving any leftovers into a single plate that gets slotted into the fridge. Afterwards, she, too, is off to brush her teeth and change into her uniform, and soon enough the two of them are bounding out again for school, the same way Aki's watched them do before a few times already.

But right before the door shuts on their backs, Nayuta pauses at the door, looking up at the sky and inhaling deep. Her chin gives an only slightly perceptible jerk in surprise as she quickly sniffs again. ]

That nasty smell… [ Her mouth breaks into a grin as she looks over her shoulder at Aki. ] Hey, Gun-guy! If you know what's good for you, stay inside today!

[ And then, giggling, she takes off into a run after Denji. ]

[Don't what? he wants to ask, but obviously doesn't. Don't leave, don't do something stupid, don't do anything. Who knows, in the end. Likely the two of them would say the same thing back and forth to each other. Don't do this. Don't do that. He cleans the dishes without a word while the students get dressed.]

[That they brush their teeth together, staring into the same mirror, isn't something he comments on. But he does stare.]

[Maybe for the same reason he doesn't comment on that, he doesn't respond to the devil's warning. "Nasty smell." It could be anything, from a garbage can left open to a dead cat in the alley by the apartment. If it's a devil - When has that stopped him before? He's stronger than any devil at this point. Unfortunate as it may be, housing the Gun Devil in his heart does come with some perks, and one of them is housing one of humanity's biggest fears right beside his lungs. Once he's pulled some clothes on and brushed his own teeth, Aki pulls on his shoes and pauses over the cell phone they left with him.]

[May as well, he thinks with some annoyance, shoving the phone into his pocket. It feels bulky and unnatural. Like a box of cigarettes. He switches it out, dropping the phone back into his bag and grabbing the cigarettes instead. May as well.]

[It's not like he's expecting to see anyone he knew in the old neighborhood, but he still needs to get out of that tiny apartment. It makes him appreciate the one he did have, in a sad sort of way. It had been so cramped with the three of them, but before that... Before that, it was comfortably lonely. He could have people over (he never did). He could sleep with people (only in hotels). He could come home to silence (aside from the city's noise). He liked it. He liked that neighborhood. Why did he always complain about it to Himeno? Yet whenever he went to her place, he would put his nose up at how expansive it was, how empty it felt. How did she even keep the place clean? And she'd wag her keys at him and sneer, "You pay people for that kinda stuff, Aki."]

[But as he feared, even the streets are different in the old neighborhood. Paved over with new asphalt, new concrete. There's a parade of schoolchildren walking down the road, holding hands, an adult reminding them to look both ways before they cross, a chorus of Yes, ma'am. He watches the strange display as the chain of human children crosses the street, one in front of the other, nearly sideways as they keep a grasp on each other. One of them looks his way and gives him the typical wide-eyed look of a child. One that says, Jesus, am I gonna look like that in twenty years?]

[The apartment is gone. Which makes sense. He's pretty sure he blew it up. No one ever told him for sure, but when he woke up, he was laying in rubble, and that rubble did feel sort of familiar. Smelled kind of like his detergent.]

["Lost in the view?" asks a familiar voice behind him, and he turns in surpise. His handler. Leaning on the hood of his car. He didn't even hear him pull up. The emergency lights are flashing, signaling it's a brief stop. "Come on. We're going back."]

What? [A burst of - something in his chest. Panic? No. Despair? No.] Why? You said -

["Yeah, well, situations have changed." He waves his hand in a gesture that Aki can't really read. "What's my motto? If you can't plan for it..."]

"Avoid it," [Aki finishes, grimacing at how well he knows it. But what is he avoiding this time? Another devil attack Aki could get involved with? Did he decide in the past 24 hours that he no longer trusts him?] What changed? Is something happening in -

["Aki, you know me by now. I only know what I know. People don't like to tell me jack shit." He stands up off his car and motions for him. "You're not changing my mind on this one. Orders from the top. Let's get going."]

[His stomach turns. No, he thinks - no. No, he wants to say good bye to Denji. No, he needs to fix this situation first. He doesn't care what the orders are, he wants to make sure Denji will be alright. But there's no arguing, he knows - but can't he leave a note? His thoughts are rushing, nerves tight. He can't just swipe him up like this and leave a bag of his dirty clothes at his apartment for Denji to worry over, right? What the hell is happening, that suddenly changed his tune? He knows he's lying, he knows he must know whatever it is. If it's such a big deal that he hunted him down like this. How did he even hunt him down? He exhales slowly, turning to face him. He can at least give him this. Give him some time. Give him this one request.]

Let me say good bye.

[The handler smiles. It creases his eyes, crow's feet sprouting from the edges and dimples cutting deep into his otherwise unblemished face. No scars, no burns. Nothing. It's always unnerved him. "Aki, you know... They told me you were Makima's old dog, but you're stubborn as a mule."]

[Run, his mind orders him, but there's nowhere to go. All the handler does is snap his finger and Aki sees his reflection in the silver-framed mirror before it spins and forces him through the glass. He stumbles - like he always does - and by the time he rights himself, he realizes it. He's on his bed. Shoes dirtying the sheets, stepped apart as if he's running. He turns his head and sees the wall. The mirror he broke, the pieces long removed but the frame still there.]

[Unlike the cells in Tokyo's Public Safety bureau, located underground and echoing the sounds of all sorts of devils, Aki has long learned that no one down here can hear him screaming. Or, at least, no one cares. Except for Gun, who rolls around in laughter like it's his favorite rakugo set.]

[ Away from their apartment, her backpack straps skid off her shoulders as she dashes, so fast she may have to double-check whether a pair of wings have sprouted from her back heels later — that'd be mega-cool.

But, no, focus, Nayuta!

Cackling, one of the straps switches from her arm to her hands as she whirls her bag round and round in a vicious twister, closing in on Denji's position, his back so tall and insurmountable even when he's walking with a hunch. Denji has more than enough time to dodge, to hear her incoming; like him, she's rarely ever one for subtlety. During her last field day, her supervising teachers all had to warn her classmates to avoid obstructing her path from one event to the next, because everywhere she went, it was like she was charging on horseback, dead-set on some new conquest. It was after that, Denji had to sit in on a conference with her homeroom teacher and the principal. At that time, they introduced the description "problem child with an extreme personality" to him.

But instead of avoiding her obvious attack, he tosses her a glance before looking forward again. Takes the hard whack to his ass with an unhappy grunt, his strides knocked slightly off-course, yet not completely tripping him up. ]

And a new challenger steps into the riiing! In one corner, Poopy Sweat Devil! Booooooo! Give this loser a bath!! [ Spinning on her heel, she lands to Denji's right, not a hitch to her commentator's affect as they keep walking. Before that homeless Half-Gun started sleeping in their living room, she and Denji were really into professional wrestling. They used to imitate the wrestlers' entrances whenever they entered a room the other was already in. ] In the opposite corner…

[ Rubbing at his sore backside, Denji tries to cut through the bit she's performing to tell her off. "Quit that, Nayuta. What're you doin' — " ]

It's the best, the undefeatable, the most impossible to kill devil butt-kicker of all time — Chainsaw Man! Raaaaah!!

[ Her hand hovers over her mouth, mimicking the uproarious cheers of an audience. She knows Denji has to be loving this part, eating this whole thing up. Except when she next looks at him, he's just staring at her, wearing an expression she can't make sense of. It's the kind she always sees that other hybrid make at Denji during those times they look at each other, sharing some unspoken correspondence when they think she's unaware.

At the drop of a hat, the gleam of her smile vanishes like a star blotted out by the sun. She's spent these past few days loudly frustrated with him, but not now. She's no less dissatisfied with his usual wishy-washy conduct, of course, but that feeling's quieter this time, bordering on a kind of ennui. A restlessness that tickles at a deeper sense of restraint and distance from the life Denji's shown her. Perhaps it's time to try her hand at a different approach. ]

…There are other people who can do whatever he does for you, you know. [ Not letting the dust settle on those words, she turns and points out into the distance. Farther past this scenery they watch every day, this normal street with humans. Wearing their suits, navigating the same maze they've grown accustomed to, hoping to turn into a corner that may just reward them with a slice of cheese. Aware that something could happen in an instant — a car accident, a devil attack, a hand to tear through the sky and pluck them from all they know. Whatever it is, it could change the very trajectory of their day, maybe even their lives. And yet they still walk their path.

She's learned a lot of human behavior by going to school and living among them, but mostly just in her time with Denji. Human life isn't admirable; it's exhausting. It's tiring. To live among them is to condemn herself not just to their ways, but to their ends. What Nayuta's looking at, what she wants and what she wishes for, exists far beyond just this street. ]

There's a really bad devil in town. Ten whole busses full of people will probably die out there, but out of the ten or so people you could shove outta trouble, at least five of them have the chance of becoming your fan for life. And, maybe, two out of those five people could be girls, and one of them could wanna hold your hand and eat eggs for breakfast with you for the rest of your life.

[ It sounds boring to her, honestly. But, still, despite her own thoughts on the matter, she tilts her head to gaze at Denji. Her way has room for what he could want, too. It always will, because he's Denji, and she needs him the same way he needs her. ] That'd be something, wouldn't it?

[ Denji's staring down the street with her. She can't tell what's on his mind, but she pushes her hand through the fingers curled at his side and starts to tug him toward the other direction. That's all he needs: a tug in the right direction.

But then, he's tugging her back.

"I…" He squeezes her hand, tight enough that she feel sweat building between their palm lines. "C'mon, Nayuta. We're gonna be late for class. We don't got time to play Chainsaw Man today." ]

What the heck?! Do you seriously care about that guy more than me —

[ Nayuta wrenches back from him, just to frantically reach for Denji again, because if it weren't for him to steady her, she'd be fully floating upward toward the sky. Slapping her other hand around Denji's wrist for extra anchorage, she arches a look toward her feet and — nope, no flapping wings, no balloon tied around her ankle. That can only mean —

The fight with the Falling Devil was a thrilling one.

Against his original hopes, Denji does yank at that short tail hidden under his shirt, does become who Nayuta wants him to be, his saws zipping unsheathed from his flesh. They don't have the chance to talk — once she'd realized what was going on, Nayuta calmed herself long enough to flee to a better vantage point to observe the battle. Not necessarily a safe one, but what was important was that she be able to watch Denji duke it out with Falling, cross paths with some bumbling girl wearing his school's uniform. She faintly recognized her scent, this time not just remembering her as that one cat-stink woman, but as something else. Something like smelt ore and razed ground, the tread of smoking rubber and sulfurous ambition. War. Her sister. An interesting detail, but not one she lingered on.

After that, there were doors and motorcycles and explosions! It was like watching a movie in real-time. Instead of having to buy tickets, and wait through the previews, and go through all the trouble of following the usual structures and tropes of a story, she could just live through it like this — through Denji, not just some random male lead she would have to force herself to care about.

That's why Chainsaw Man's adventures are so wonderful. She can experience the whole gamut of humanity without lifting a finger.

But, of course, as soon as the battle started to encroach on lunchtime, it'd been just a matter of suggestion to save Denji from that ugly devil's stomach and insert herself into the equation. Her other sister, Famine, was present in the aftermath — it was a bad enough omen to have two of the horsemen there, but three? She curiously questioned the girl's motives, and only came away with the knowledge that pizza and Chinese takeout would be in jeopardy in the near future. Oh, and something about an age of devils. Certain foods going instinct sucks, but it wasn't really her problem or her business. She turned away from her and her proposition to work together.

The moment she sent a chain tugging at the consciousness of some adult-sized man that managed to escape the ruin, thinking she could use him to help pick up Denji's tattered body, a vehicle appeared. Actually, an entire fleet of vehicles appeared, circling her at all sides. From them, a gush of trained personnel fitted in tactical gear streamed out, pushing the muzzles of their assault rifles directly into her face. With her hands raised in shock and a scratchy bag suddenly draped over her head, darkening her vision, she was left with no choice but to comply to being captured. She wasn't even sure by whom.

…Until someone yanks the bag from her head off and pushes her staggering inside a cell. Her knees scrape into the ground, hands barely thrown in front of her in time catch her fall. Hissing in pain, she reorients herself, tugging her knee up to look at the scuff, which is no worse than the type of injuries that occur at a playground, before snapping a glare toward the cell door.

It isn't long before the sound of shifting from the back end of the room steals her attention. Still sitting, she jerks around, scrabbles to put space between herself and — wait, that smell. ]

Denji…?

[ No, that's not right. Denji should be smelling like iron and fluids right about now, since he was just in a fight. So that leaves — ]

Half-Gun. What're you doing here?

[He's never been good at telling time down here. There was a clock in here at one point, hanging on the wall over the door, but at some point it felt as torturous as the mirror. A constant reminder of the passing days, of time moving and himself sitting still. Other people living their lives. Other people suffering because of what he took from them. And it also ticked too fucking loud.]

[So he doesn't have a great idea of how long he's been down here, but he did just return from dinner and is stretching his body when the door bangs open, a kid is thrown in with a bag yanked off her head. Aki startles and starts to call out, demand what's going on, but - but then he looks at the kid. And realizes it's not a kid.]

[He doesn't even have the space to be upset. He's too surprised, shock clear across his face, even as Gun almost seems to be groaning in his gut, like randomly seeing the kid who used to bully you at the grocery store when you're with your mom and now you have to be nice in front of her but she keeps smirking at you, knowing you're gonna get it twice as bad tomorrow. ...How does he even know an emotion like that, Aki wonders, but doesn't focus on.]

What are you doing here?

[Because what a question to ask when she gets tossed right into his own personal suite. She must have done something awful to wind up here, but what? And why would they drop her on him?]

What did you do? And - where is Denji?

[ Someone's just run off with what's hers. Of course the fairness of the question weighs on her about as much as an ant right now. ]

I didn't do squat!

[ She doesn't appreciate the open accusation that she did something to land herself and Denji in trouble somehow. …Though it's not too far off from the truth. They were most likely apprehended because of their clash with that Primal, and the sheer amount of destruction that played a role in taking her down. That's the only conclusion she could draw sitting blindfolded in their armored van, nobody deigning to answer her questions, and Nayuta too outnumbered to force them to. Even if she'd tried to overtake the humans in that vehicle, there were vans driving ahead and behind her, full of their allies and ready to drill any amount of bullet holes into her head as needed. There's no way she would have gotten away unscathed. ]

They… Your Public Safety buddies Denji-napped him. And after he went through the pain in the butt of saving this place again.

[ True vitriol grips her voice, not for Public Safety, really, but this place. The city known as Tokyo. Sure, the location's a great, expansive stage for Chainsaw Man to perform his heroics, but they could do that anywhere, somewhere that isn't so crowded with construction fumes, with the rotten musk of malaise and complacency lurking around every street corner. Isn't teeming with humans who can pass by the very worst of themselves everyday without a single care.

Giving her wounded knee one last blow, doing it the way Denji always does for her after she gets into a scuffle with her classmates, Nayuta pushes herself back to her feet. Back straight, all 146 centimeters of her staring Aki in the eyes. ]

Seriously, what're you doing here? Why haven't you broken out of this place yet? Is the Half-Gun really not as mighty as the whole one?

[They Denji-napped...? Aki's brows crease in worry - She can't be serious, right? Kidnap him for what?]

[But then she's telling him to break out of this place and Aki's lips draw into a thin line as he stands up staight. Stares down at her with distaste. Yeah, she would think it's so easy, wouldn't she?]

I'm not doing anything like that. [And besides... He pats his chest.] This is only twenty percent of the Gun Devil, you know. [Give or take. He's eaten about two chunks, on top of what was sent from America.] So quit calling me that. Whatever they picked you up for, you probably deserved it. You were making him play at being that Chainsaw Man thing again, weren't you? I'm not helping you in breaking out.

[ So a person dumber than Denji actually exists…

Nayuta's eye twitches at the breath he wastes on what, in her perspective, is a useless clarification. He's eighty percent human and twenty percent devil. So what? Does he want her to be hyper-specific with her insults now? When there are other more urgent matters at hand? ]

Oh, gimme a break.

[ Her hands ball into her skirt to keep from shaking with more anger than she ever thought fathomable. ]

I always knew you didn't care about Denji as much as you pretended to. You're just another person who was using him, like the rest of them. That's why you're not getting it — this isn't about me! This is about finding out where they took Denji.

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