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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. ]
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Makima… She'd merely hoped to leverage the comparison between her and that woman to coax out some more of his cooperation, make him easier to work with — Denji blabbed to her once that impressing the head hunter of the Tokyo division was a big deal for those in his department before she made a fool out of all of them (not his words) — but it seems to have worked against her. Made it even more obvious how far apart that person and the current Nayuta are. Though it's not as if she cares to be her carbon copy. She died, so that means she failed in whatever she was trying to accomplish. Whatever it was she was looking for.
Nayuta's not like that. But she has always wondered… ]
To you, what was 100% of her like?
[ Because she doubts even Half-Gun, himself, understood that two percent. Otherwise, he wouldn't be here. None of them would be. ]
When Denji talks about her, he always sounds… strange. Like he misses her.
[ She knows that between Gun and her, Denji would choose her, every single time. The same answer can't be said between Nayuta and her presuccessor. Nayuta and Makima. ]
What did she do to make you humans so happy?
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[100% of Makima... It's hard to even remember with how much he locked her out of his mind. Or maybe, how much she locked herself out of his mind.]
She...
[He has an answer but it's so shallow. So embarrassing. Denji fell for it and he fell for it. Even if they were manipulated, they were still willing participants in the end. He went right to her and sat patiently in the boiling water. He can't succinctly explain what it is about her that made people so happy. It was never just her looks, her personality, her character. It was so much deeper. Something flowing through her blood, coating her bones, stitching her muscles. Makima...]
She made you feel special.
[He sounds ashamed to admit it. Like he grabbed too many pieces of candy from a bowl. Greedy to accept that feeling.]
She didn't use her power to control people. She could do that with only her words.
[That day is so foggy. All he really remembers is going to the beach. Getting off the bus and walking down the steps to the sand. Her in that black dress, waving at them.]
She was a monster in human skin - And Denji, he still loved her despite that.
[Maybe he'll never fully comprehend that, but he does understand it. Even with all she did, can he truly be upset with her when she gave him so much?]
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No one ever speaks of Makima like someone pitiful. She killed a lot of people. Won all her battles, except one. But every time she learns something new about her, she can't keep this welling sense at bay. That that's what the the previous Control Devil was — pitiful. Makima walked her path, but Nayuta's not sure she ever ran down it with someone's hand in tow, feeling the the speckle of sunlight dabbing her face.
Then, the topic of the conversation turns to another pitiful person: Denji. She scoffs, and yet her expression softens at the same time, like a wave crashing at the outer edges of a tall castle — collapsing its might, revealing it was made from sand all along. ]
He's like that with everyone.
[ Even Half-Gun, he should have his reasons for despising. At least from what she knows. Denji's so troublesome that way… ]
But you… You're different. Do you hate Makima?
[ Though her eyes are half-hidden behind her fringe, one shift of her head has them peeking out from behind the dark tresses. A primordial amber. ]
You said it yourself. I'm not her. But your pal doesn't look like it can tell the difference. [ For a rare moment, she seems to have acknowledged Gun as a separate entity from Aki. She also seems to acknowledge that she's been able to do this the entire time. ] If I'm doing what you tell me to, I don't wanna have to watch my back.
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[So even she can tell how much Gun loathes her. It's annoying, but maybe he can use that to his benefit. If she's worried about Gun and his feelings about her, then maybe she'll reconsider antagonizing him.]
[Not that she has yet. Still calling him "Half-Gun" and ordering him around. She really doesn't get it. Thinking he might hate the woman who caused his death... If only it were that simple.]
I spent the greater part of my life trying to kill the thing that's keeping me alive right now.
[He still hasn't fully accepted that. He's not sure if he ever will.]
I was mocked and ridiculed for my goal, but Makima - she pushed me forward. It was thanks to her I'm in this exact situation.
[Yes, he wanted to pull out. Yes, he wanted to give up. Yes, he didn't care as much about Gun in the end, recognized he wanted to give Denji and Power something else with what limited time he had. But is there any timeline where he wouldn't bite at the chance to be part of Gun's downfall, as small of a drop his presence made in the tidal wave that took him down? He doesn't know. That's something he still can't swallow. That maybe Makima knew better for him, that maybe he shouldn't have tried to get away. That she knew what he really wanted, and it wasn't a selfless desire for those two to live happy lives. No, he wanted to be part of that battle. Surely she knew that better than he did.]
[At some point, maybe he believed that. Then decried it. Then knew it. Then disagreed. Then stopped thinking about it at all.]
[Aki sighs.]
...Look. Gun is weak in this form. The worst he can do is give me indigestion. [A white lie doesn't hurt here.] I don't plan on killing you, because Denji would probably kill me right after. So don't worry about that.
I might have to rough you up to make this plan, work, though, but just play along. [He's never punched a child in the face but this is a devil so it's fine.]
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It's impressive. It's ridiculous. In death, she has a man thanking her for setting his life on fire. Although… if he'd really been planning to face Gun, a legless apparition documented as capable of crossing oceans, whose entire chest cavity, according to the boring textbook readings her teacher assigns her, is welted with the faces of thousands of silently screaming mouths — as a miserable, measly human? He probably hadn't needed that much help. ]
…No wonder you look so constipated all the time.
[ That's her uncomfortable reply. Before, Nayuta'd avoided sitting on his furniture as if it carried mites and fleas, but she discreetly digs her back into the bed corner now. Trying to seem brave, tough, in that way kids do when they don't want an adult to look down on them. She has no idea he's lying, and with how often she and Denji wrestle around, she isn't exactly bracing herself for whatever performance they have to put on for the guards. She's tense because she has a better idea of what he is: not Half-Gun, nor Aki Hayakawa, but a remnant of Makima's work. Her influence.
And with that around Denji…
Forget it, she'll think about that later. ]
Well, I guess you would rather be alive and kicking than killed dead by Denji a second time. That'd be embarrassing for you, [ she mumbles, reassuring herself. He may not like her, may not have the same loyalty to her as the previous Control, but there's no current gain to getting rid of her. That's good. Louder, with an air of confidence: ] Whatever that'll get us out of here, I'll deal with. Just don't go overboard or I'll make you eat your own poop.
[ What's a harmless threat between reluctant allies? ]
You said something about getting to the main corridor and devil cells before — what's your plan for after that?
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[Eat his... Ugh. Being said right after she reminds him that Denji has more or less killed him once before delivers such a strange one-two punch that he wants to wince but won't allow himself to show any form of weakness in front of such an annoying kid.]
I'm not going to knock you out. It'll be just like sparring.
[If he thinks of it that way, it's easy to hit a child. Also, he reminds himself, she's not actually a child. Just a devil in the guise of one. But his plan for after they get to the main corridor, well...]
We'll be relying on your sense of smell. [Not that he loves the idea of relying on her at all, but their goal is the same right now, so she has no reason to screw him over.] Once we find him, it depends on a lot of factors what we do next. If he's awake or not, and how heavy the security around him is.
[It's still hard to wrap his mind around the idea that Denji might be here, that they would have taken him. She made it sound like some sort of big thing happened out there, that Denji was involved in... Are they finally sick of letting him run around without a leash on? But then why did they take Aki back here so suddenly? ]
[His stomach bubbles unhappily. Maybe because the plan is pacifist in nature. Too bad, he wants to tell him - Even if she's a devil, Aki has no plans of splattering a child.]
Now, stand up and yell at me like I just told you something you didn't like.
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…But they did just allow all three of them to room together for a week. So maybe it is? Humans are so weird and brainless, she has no idea how the previous Control worked with and under them. It'd drive Nayuta nuts. Taking a note out from her brother's book, she blusters past the wave of concerns that surface to shore, opting to do what she knows best. Cause trouble. On her feet, she sizes him up — the hybrid of two scents. Gun and Aki.
Worth a shot. Hopefully, not one through her own noggin. ]
Well, that's easy! I've got plenty of experience.
[ Up goes her finger, steadying in the air. Her thumb flicks open with it: a fake gun. She's practiced this before, but she's never managed to really pop her invisible ammo where she wanted it to. Maybe she needs a better trigger to concentrate her energy…
Whatever, they're just playing. It shouldn't matter. ]
Boo! You suck!
[ The wall shakes from where something unseeable smacks into it, the strength of a tennis ball swatted by a racket into a net. ]
You're a homeless loser who's mooching off a high school student! I hope every one last of your hairs falls off when you shower! Pre-bald baldy! Get a real job!
1/2
[Nayuta raises her hand in the form of a gun and for a moment Aki thinks he's being pranked, that she's making fun of him. Typical, and as she goes on to boo at him and tell him that he sucks, he thinks she might truly be worse than Power at this whole thing.]
[But then the wall behind him shakes, shivers with a weak thunk of something invisible to his eyes, yet he can sense it, that something happened there. He doesn't get it, but that doesn't matter. It never did. Because it's never about understanding what's going on, when his body acts to protect the host. It's always about defense. Defend and strike first.]
[She's speaking but he's not listening. His body lurches in an instant, movement quick yet harried. He pulls back instead of rushing forward like he said he would, fists not closing up in any attempt to even pretend to punch her or knock her around. Sparring, he'd said, but it's not sparring when there's a real threat at play. This devil is a threat. She's dangerous and crafty and killed him, she killed him before. This devil killed him. His teeth are bared, grunts pulling from his gut, arm staggering to raise up as it folds into the metal of a rifle. His sights trained on her. The pistol that's pulled over his face holds better sights than any human eyes. He grunts and staggers as he spits out the name he hates. Hates. He hates this devil, more than any other.]
2/2
[It's not his own voice, some mimic of it produced by the human's throat, but it's close enough. She threatened him. She tried to take him down again. He needs to eliminate her for sure this time.]
[A klaxon begins ringing in the room, shrieking a warning that can barely be understood over the loud buzz. Gun staggers under the sound, shaking his head quickly. Eventually guards will be here, ready to sedate. For now, however, he tries to raise his arm back up, aim at the devil standing across from him.]
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No matter her attempts to steel her expression, apprehension firmly nails itself to every stiff muscle down her spine. The point of her finger jitters all over, but she latches a hand down to her wrist, steadying her aim as another unseeable round releases toward the hybrid to try and bowl him over. At the same time, she flies out from the path of Gun's rifle, pain smarting at her hip when she crashes into the corner of a desk. Not that the effort means much. If it's not Gun's precision that takes her out, it'll be the blast radius. There's a reason they teach about it in her history textbooks. She can tell she's miscalculated even before her hearing tremors with the ongoing shock wave of the security alarms. The metamorphosis. That disembodied call of her true name. It'd been like watching a hunting dog's pupils dilate when an instinct older than it can remember kicks in. This wasn't what they agreed on.
Did he realize this would happen?
Doesn't matter right now, she decides in the same instant the question appears. Her nose picks up multiple incoming odors flooding the outer hallways. They'll be there in seconds; Nayuta doesn't have that long. ]
Worst he can do is give you indigestion, huh?!
[ The door's hinges screech just in time for their arriving guards to watch all three of her chains snake out. Their bellies rattle to the floor, then whip fast across Gun's neck, ] You! [ Arms, ] Big fat! [ And torso from intersecting angles — it'd be a waste of energy to control him in this state with so many witnesses to turn their sights on her as the primary target instead. But if she can at least throw off the trajectory of his aim, that'll be enough to keep herself out of harm's way. For the time being. ] Liar!
1/2
[It's so chilly. With a frown, he rubs at his arms as he continues on the path, cognizant of how cold he is. His fingers are pinching with pain and sensitivity and he presses them into his armpits but even there he can't warm up. It's so annoying. Passing under the trees, there's no warmth from the sun to alleviate his discomfort and all he can think to himself is, Wish there was somewhere warm to go...]
[The thought only crystalizes for a moment before a gust of wind blows and dislodges a heavy layer of snow from the trees, the pile falling directly on top of him and drenching him in ice. Aki yelps out and struggles under the mass of it, groaning.]
Some mess this is - !
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.]
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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!" ]
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[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.]
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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...
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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. ]
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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.]
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[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.]
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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.
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["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.]
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[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.
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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?
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