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

[It's one thing after another that shoots Aki's heartrate up. Everything Denji says stresses him out even more. He's only sometimes getting to class before lunch? He has fans? He's a superhero??]

What are you...

[And then he asks why Aki was there and he finally looks away, stares out the window with a deep frown. Annoyed. This isn't about him - Denji is the one running around in sketchy areas as a teenager. Talking about being a superhero... What the hell is he on about?]

Just devil hunting. [He's not lying, there. Answer given, he turns it right back around on Denji as he feels the car slowing at their destination.] You shouldn't be in an area like that. You should be focusing on school - You're not still in Public Safety, are you? Is that what you mean? [There's a twinge of discomfort as he says that, hopes he's not. If he's in school, then surely he's not. Surely he's left all that behind. That was what Denji wanted, wasn't it? To live a normal life? The car pulls to a stop at the curb but Aki doesn't move.]

You're not... putting yourself in stupid situations, are you?

Nah…

[ There's a part of him that considers testing his luck, leaving his answer at that and letting Aki decipher for himself which question it belongs to. But he's not that much of a jerk, he knows why Aki's trying to catch up to speed. Denji's just as curious, would probably be asking as many questions, if not more, if Aki'd let him: where he's been, what he's been up to, why the hell he looks so newly minted when he was left in shreds amidst the rubble of their old place. With so many rifts in what they both do and don't know, they'll eventually have to do a proper reconciliation of their accounts. This much is only a stopgap. ]

Like I told you already, I can take care of myself. Public Safety's a real pain these days, so no, I'm not with those guys. Too uptight. 'sides, there's more important stuff to take care of.

[ Speaking of which.

With a lift of the handle, the door on his side comes open and Tatsuki Apartments appears in full view — from the outside, the building is a grade below modest, a two-story thing that just barely passes fire inspection, but the premises are well-maintained at least. Utilities, so-so. The property manager is a nice, older lady who drops off fruits and produce at their door every few weeks, leftovers sent from her sister, she always tells him, so that pretty much makes up for everything else wrong with the place.

He likes it here decent enough, but no one would have ever guessed it by the tense hunch of his shoulders as they see off their driver. He fidgets with his collar, tugging at it as if to air out some of the sweat building up, even though the night is relatively cool. ]

H-Hey, listen, before we go up, I gotta tell you: I have a — a roommate, sorta. It's complicated, but we gotta follow her rules.

[ The absolute irony of this conversation, given the amount of household guidelines and personal boundaries Denji crossed, and at moments actively resisted, in his time living with Aki… ]

You can't enter any of the other apartments, you can't open the fridge without permission, and, uh, what else… [ He trails off, counting his fingers and reciting the same ones he'd just said, like maybe it'll jog his memory. ]

— Oh, that's right. You can't get too close to me in front of her.

[There's a sense of relief that Denji isn't working with Public Safety any longer, but Aki can still see the tension in him. He assumes it's due to himself, knows he's asking too many questions, but he doesn't care. He spent a year mourning him and wishing he was dead due to what he'd done. Now Denji is sitting in front of him telling him to stop being so nosy? Like hell. He gets out of the car and briefly talks to the officer, accepting a slip of paper with a phone number on it before he drives away. Aki looks around the neighborhood, judging it, considering it, whether it's a good fit, but then looks to Denji when he speaks up.]

[The image Aki gets from his description of his roommate is a crotchety old lady who's specific and overbearing. Maybe it's a guardian of sorts. Someone cooking his meals, or doing his laundry. Aki looks dissatisfied with the description he gives, and the rules, until he gets to the last one.]

[What the hell kind of rule is that? ...Surely that sort of thing will be nullified when he introduces himself. Surely it's just a protective measure against anyone taking advantage of someone like Denji. Someone who's already been taken advantage of all his life. Aki isn't like that, so surely he won't count. He still looks peeved by the rules he gives him, mentally noting they're leagues stricter than the ones he had in his home that Denji flagrantly disregarded, but... But for right now, maybe he'll believe that Denji has matured. Is a rule abider. Despite finding him in Kabukicho.]

Alright. [It sounds like he's saying That's silly. Judgmental, but accepting.] Who are you living with? A teacher? [Probably not, if he's always late to school.] Whoever it is, I'll talk to them and explain who I am.

[...Why would he even try to enter any of the other apartments? If this is Denji's home life, is he actually on the track to having a normal life like he wants? Like Aki wants for him? He pushes the paper into his pocket and follows Denji's lead, still looking judgmental but at least staying a few steps behind him rather than holding him by the arm like he actually wants to. Like he might vanish if he doesn't.]

A teacher? [ His eyes incrementally widen around the edges in reaction to Aki's guess. Scandalized. ] No way, that'd be the worst! [ Can you imagine Denji being forced to complete his homework the instant he returns home? The horror? ] She's a student like me.

[ Well, not exactly like him. A few qualifying additions to the picture he's painted of Nayuta so far would probably make a world of difference to Aki's first impressions. Unfortunately, foresight has never been his forte. ]

Watch your step there. That one isn't bolted all the way down, so you gotta hop over it.

[ All they're doing is going up the rickety stairs and making a turn to arrive at Denji's unit, and yet he doesn't even bother pretending to act inconspicuous about looking over his shoulder every so often to make sure Aki hasn't lost his way. Like that'd even be possible. Maybe it's because he's feeling the absence of his touch more than he'd like to admit, enough that it's hard for Denji not to be the one to stretch a hand over and hold onto the cuff his sleeve or something.

But he doesn't, because that's dumb, because he needs to focus on patting his pockets now that they're at the door instead. Figure out which one the key fob is in. Yeah, that's what he needs to do.

It's as he's about to scrounge it up that it becomes obvious he needn't have exerted the effort. The door swings out on its own abruptly with a reverberating clatter, and standing there behind it? A young girl, her hair still in a familiar braid at this hour for whatever reason, wearing pajamas dotted with a creature from some popular anime. It appears to be an orange fire-breathing dragon.

The ends of Denji's mouth curve, trying to look like a smile rather than the grimace it is. ]

I'm home, Nayu — ggck!

[ "What took you so long?!" Not letting either of them pass into the apartment, her head buries deep into his stomach, painfully — a purposeful surprise attack, no way, no how about it! But then her tiny arms encircle his waist in a hug so tight he can't really be mad. Denji's hands rest upon her shoulders as he twists, shooting Aki a look crossed between panicked and apologetic. ]

Crap, just a sec —

[ "Huh?" Nayuta's nose wrinkles. Her face turns to stare at their guest, suddenly assessing. Gauging a threat. "Denji, I thought I told you we had enough pets at home. Put that one back where you found it. He stinks." ]

Edited 2023-07-17 00:00 (UTC)

[A student... Is he living with a classmate? This whole situation is so weird, but Aki supposes that Denji having a normal living situation wouldn't suit him, anyway. He follows along, watching the step he points out, all while keeping his eyes glued to him, staring him down in a way that would make most people uncomfortable but Aki doesn't care. Even still, seeing him talk, act Denji-like in fiddling with his pockets, explaining stupid stuff like a rickety step... It's just not right. He shouldn't be here. He's supposed to be dead.]

[But then the door slams open and Aki watches a little girl suddenly slam into him, pajamas on, yelling at him like he's an absentee father. Aki steps back a bit from surprise but what surprises him even more is the sudden sea of dogs panting at the door, looking around at the action like they get dinner and a show. He's about to ask what, exactly, is going on when the child suddenly labels him as stinking and being a pet. He stares at her with an incredulous look, obviously offended. What in the hell is this kid talking about? Why does Denji live with an elementary schooler? And why are there so many dogs?!]

I didn't think your living situation could get weirder.

[He doesn't know why his heart is racing. He doesn't feel fear, but he doesn't feel adrenaline, either. There's no way to really talk to Gun unless Gun feels like it (and even then, he's not really talking to him, just kind of absorbing his weird thoughts) but the sensation he gets is that he doesn't like the kid. There was nothing when it came to Denji that Gun had any reaction to, but this one... This one, Gun seems antagonistic toward. He does his best to ignore it while explaining who he is while the kid keeps clinging to Denji.]

I used to work with him. He's - [He's what. He's what? They weren't friends. Nothing like that.] ...He was my junior.

[...It's close enough. He only got Denji to call him senpai a few times, but it's still correct.]

[ As unwelcoming Nayuta is deliberately being, it's not outright hostility. If the way she keeps rubbing her eyes against the hem of Denji's shirt is any suggestion, what wariness she feels toward Aki isn't going to win over the costs of staying up past her bedtime, much to his relief. Even the Control Devil has her weaknesses, and one of them is that she's usually snoring into Custard's coat by nine.

Cheeks puffed out, Nayuta cranes her neck, looking up at Denji for confirmation. ]

…Yep, what he said!

[ As if to drive the point home, Denji steals another look at Aki then. Nonchalant, like he was my junior isn't sticking in his brain like a cancerous tumor, difficult to eradicate and growing with each passing second. It isn't an inaccurate description, but it is one that begs the question of, well. What are they now? With rank and necessity no longer variables to contend with, does that just make them two coworkers who grieved each other? How awkward is that… ]

The guy's pretty much homeless right now, so I can't put him back. He's staying for the night. [ And before she can get a word in edgewise — ] If you're nice to him, I'll letcha have extra syrup on your pancakes tomorrow.

[ Negotiation tactics. Exactly like Aki taught him.

Nayuta's very much the same breed of food-motivated gremlin as Denji, easily bought off by the promise of junk, so even while her gaze curiously switches between Denji and Aki, he already knows she's taken the bait long before she releases him. "Sure, whatever… But you have to actually make the pancakes. No frozen ones!"

Perking up from where they'd been spectating, the dogs shuffle apart to make way for Nayuta's retreat back into the apartment and into their bedroom. Some of them follow on her heels, while the others linger back to sniff at Aki's converses. ]

Anyway, I know it's weird. [ Denji nudges their wet snouts away with a foot, making room for the two of them to finally enter. It's a smaller space, but Nayuta and he manage to do a good job of keeping it cleaner than expected, save for when either of them have a school project or something. The comics are all shelved, there are dishes still drying in the rack, pet toys stuffed in a crate. They've got plants, though one is sadly wilted. Everything has its place there — and maybe Aki could, too, for a time. ]

But livin' with you was just as weird, right?

Home--

[Aki shuts up before he can sound too outraged. He isn't homeless. What the hell does Denji think he's been up to for a year - scrounging through dumpsters? He's not homeless.]

[...Well, he supposes he doesn't have a home, in the traditional sense. But he's still not homeless.]

[He manages to stay quiet through the rest of the exchange, ignoring the rolling feeling in his heart that feels like... like what. Indignance? Is he just feeling what Aki is feeling? For now, he pushes that away, tries his best to ignore the sensation. He watches Denji use the abilities he watched him hone with Power, coaxing with food, and it's only then when Nayuta looks his way in one of her many back-and-forths that he sees her eyes. It triggers something in him, something familiar... But before he can see them any closer to confirm, he feels one of the dogs start sniffing at his shoes and looks down in surprise.]

[...Doesn't he recognize this dog?]

[When the kid finally heads inside and Denji pushes the dog away, the rushing feeling in his heart is starting to give him a headache. He feels weird, here. Something weird is going on in this apartment, and it's more than the fact that Denji is living with an elementary schooler and a pack of dogs.]

[And a cat. His eyes briefly widen when he sees Meowy, who doesn't move to greet him. All that litter scooping may have been for nothing in that respect, but in his own way, Aki does look a little relieved to see her. He looks around the rest of the apartment as Denji speaks, tugging his collar to try and stifle the strange feeling running through him. It all feels weird. Maybe he's just tired - using Gun does use a lot of blood, after all.]

I don't know about that.

[If it was just as weird as this. He watches the way all the dogs seem to follow after the girl, trading between taking a look at the new person in the home and trotting back into what Aki assumes is the bedroom. He blinks in recognition at that - this apartment is small. Really small. And he essentially invited himself here to stay.]

...I'm not homeless, Denji. [He'll start with that. He's still mostly in the entryway but he doesn't take off his shoes. He doesn't look at Denji, either, instead staring at the two plants. One wilted, the other standing tall.] You said you had that devil in your heart, didn't you? That it saved you from dying. [He still remembers the name. Has to, since he heard the way Denji mumbled to him in the middle of the night.] Gun did the same to me. The government is taking care of me for now, until they can extract him.

[He knows that won't happen. He knows this Gun is too weak for that. But he says it like it's even a viable thing to work towards.]

[ Denji's listening. It doesn't look it as he shucks his shoes off, lets his jacket and backpack land somewhere off to the side, but he's listening. He meanders into the kitchenette to grab a glass, and Meowy stretches out from her spot atop one of the upper cabinets, daintily hopping onto his shoulders, but he hears every word. Filtered tap water rushes out, but it feels like his head's the thing that's overflowing.

So Gun's like Pochita. So Aki's like him. How does he feel about that? How should he feel about that?

…The faucet's too loud. He shuts it off to hear himself think.

Back then, they didn't always tell each other everything, some stuff didn't need saying, but what Denji did know with utmost certainty was how much Aki hated Gun. It's not something he ever hid, though the amount of moments it came up in conversation steadily lulled with time. Then, after that one meeting with Makima, the one about war and how they'd be coming to blows with the other countries, all that hate had abruptly gone flat. Lukewarm and fizzled out, like soda that'd spoiled from sitting out for too long. Gun was just another weapon, another vessel for humankind's self-realized calamity. The reveal hadn't meant much to him, but it had to his stubbornly composed superior.

Aki doesn't look it, but he's a crybaby through and through. For him, things like this… ] Must've been hell.

[ That's saying something, considering they'd both been there and back.

Returning to where Aki remains standing, stiff and unmoving, a pale specter who's followed him home but can't bring himself to haunt it, Denji can feel the stirrings of anxiety flip-flop in his chest. He's holding a glass of water with medicinal tablets for stomach pain tucked under the bottom because Aki's been looking fucking constipated this entire time, but suddenly it's not the condensation hanging off the glass making his hands clammy.

He can't remember. Did he lock the door? Not that a lock would stand a chance against a hybrid, if Aki's claims are true, but it still doesn't hurt to check for his own peace of mind. Maybe if he yammers, that'll distract Aki and he can reach behind him to feel the handle — ]

Uh, I dunno what to think about that government stuff! The military's been hangin' around Tokyo a lot more and it feels weird. Things have been different. [ He hasn't handed over the glass yet, so the water swishes around against the lip, a few droplets falling down the side and into his fingers as he squeezes an arm behind Aki to feel for the knob lock. ] But, y'know, if what they're doing means you're still here and not anywhere else, I guess I'm glad?

[The way Denji putters around, to his view, isn't too unusual. In some ways, it's relieving to see again. The way he avoids looking at people sometimes. He realizes he's coming toward him with water and thinks for a moment he got it for him, wants to say something about him being a good host... But through the bottom of the glass he can see some sort of medicine, like a tablet, and his stiff expression suddenly crinkles as he meets Denji's movements near parallel. He leans his head when Denji reaches around him, then moves the other way to let him around and meets his opposite lean at the same time. ...So annoying. He's trying to get a look at his face.]

Are you not feeling well? [Aki reaches out with the back of his right hand to feel his forehead, trying to see if he's feverish. He remembers doing this so often it became normal, but the moment his knuckles makes contact he flinches it away like he was electrically shocked. He hesitates. Like he isn't sure if he should. Like Denji might burn him somehow. Or - more likely - like he might burn Denji.]

[But that's stupid. And he knows it is. In the moment that he stays flinched away he steels himself, almost clenching his hand, then forces it back on Denji's forehead, palm out this time. Petty, in a way. Demanding, in another way. He doesn't even realize he was trying to reach for the knob.]

Bwuh?! Wha — [ Immediately, the water jumps up in-between, splashing Denji's own face and, by that same token, the whole arm of Aki's sleeve. Meowy, who'd still been riding the nape of his neck, leaps just in time to avoid the uproar. Really, he should know better than to be shouting at this time of night. ] Huuuuh?! You're the one who's — who's sick! I should be the one checking you, asshole!

[ Denji doesn't jerk back, whether that's because his self-preservation is a thousand times jacked up from knowing firsthand what it's like to live inside an inferno, burnt to cinders, the entire inside of his mouth raw with ash — or just because this is Aki, and the palm of his hand is overbearing but balmy. Pleasant enough to lean into, if he actually closed his eyes and he let himself. A very real temptation that passes through his mind for a split second, stupid and unasked for, and as if to swipe it away, Denji's own hand disappears from where it'd been reaching for the door, coming up, and then smacking down into the center of Aki's brow.

Isn't this nice? ]

That's why you've been all sad-looking, right? You ate something rotten and now you're trying to hold your shit in until you can make it to the toilet!

[Since when is Aki sick? He's about to ask him what the hell that means when he suddenly gets water poured on him and smacked in the head and he blinks in shock, both offended and confused and now wet. Why the hell does Denji think he's about to shit himself?! Why is he so disgusting?? He hasn't changed a bit. He should hate him for it.]

You dumbass - [He has half a mind to smack him back, if not for the hit then for the way his sleeve is now drenched with water. Thankfully, maybe, for Denji's sake, he relents, settling him with a harsh glare instead that just adds to the sickly expression.] I'm not constipated, what the hell is the matter with you? I just -

[...He's not explaining this. It's stupid. Even he doesn't understand it. Aki moves around him at last, tugging his sleeve and trying to pat it dry with the other.]

Don't say something so disgusting. And stop shouting - You've got that kid in there.

[Who, thankfully, hasn't reappeared. He realizes he's staring at the doorway to the bedroom, the closed door locking off that mystery. He faces Denji again with a frown. For now, he'll bypass the shit comments. This takes precedent.]

What's with her, anyway? Since when are you living with a child?

[ Guess it'd be since I finished eating Makima…? The answer bursts to mind right away for once. Probably because it'd never vacated its place there to begin with, stored away from center stage but always watching from some back corner.

Denji almost lets that one loose from the get-go, word for word, until he remembers all those times Power would spoil the end of the movie before he even pressed play on the VCR, and rethinks it. Fine, it's a win for chronology today. Sighing, he drops into a slouch, starts heading toward the low table without making eye contact with Aki. ]

…Bah, have it your way. I'll tell you about it — all of it, but her deal comes later. Just siddown, already.

[ The half-full glass and medicine are set down now, both of which are free for Aki to take, judging by how they're positioned in front of the unoccupied seat cushion. Which is, well, their only one. Denji doesn't join him yet; since he's still lightly drenched, he takes a swift moment to rub his face into the scrunched up neckline of his shirt, the hem of it riding up — it's a little canine-like, reminiscent of the way a wet dog might roll around against a towel after a bath. He even gives his head a little shake to get all the damp strands out of his eyes. ]

Well, after you died, or got adopted by the feds, or whatever you said, it was just Powy and I. [ He finally sits, then, kinda awkwardly planting himself down on the ground. ] You set us up there good, so, um, thanks for that.

[Aki follows him to the small table, sitting down on the offered mat which he only realizes is the only one once he watches Denji sit down a moment later. He starts to lean over to tug it out... then decides against it. Denji has already gotten annoyed at him. Not to mention, if someone did that to him in his own home, he would be embarrassed on top of the annoyance. So he sits back down and waits for the explanation.]

[Which... gives him an odd feeling, to hear. He had thought that money went nowhere. Actually, until this moment, he'd barely thought about it. Didn't want to think about how he'd been planning out his own death for so long only for it to come in the worst way possible. Even Future's prediction hadn't adequately prepared him. Nothing could have.]

[Under his breath, he mutters,] Powy and me. [If he's in school, he should know the grammar now. His eyes move around the apartment, but he doesn't otherwise say anything about the money he left him.] So you two found this place. [Then neither Power nor Denji were killed by him, like he had thought - yet Power is still gone. He wants to tell Denji to hurry up and get on with it, but instead he finally takes the offered water and has a long drink. Not touching the medicine, though.]

[ The correction strikes him as so expected, grating yet comforting, he nearly breaks and says something snide back, because falling into their usual cadence is easier than speaking about this stuff — but nah, he's been stalling and twiddling his thumbs long enough now. He owes Aki this, he gets that much.

So after a moment of staring at his distorted reflection from the glassy, grayed out surface of the television, he starts treading, picking his way through the muddled fragments of what he can remember. ]

Yeah, and we still did missions, still went home and took a dump, still ate good enough food and snoozed right after. Things were basically the same, y'know. Only you weren't there to get pissed at us, which made everything feel basically not the same, too, if that makes sense.

Then, one night, things weren't so good. Just felt real cold and bad and messed up outta nowhere, so I left Powy at home, but I couldn't get myself fixed no matter what I did… That's how Miss Makima found me.

It felt like fate. Destiny, like she was s'posed to find me there and save me. And that felt nice, better than eatin' a whole platter of eel. Better than eatin' two of them!

She took me back to her place. That was fun. I… I really liked barking for her.

[ He pauses to wet his lips, his mouth dry and resembling the texture of grain the more he speaks. It's funny, he didn't think he'd make it this far without feeling like yanking on Pochita's tail and burying his bladed fists into his skull, but his insides are all eerily quiet. No hammering in his chest, no white noise in his ears.

Then again, he hasn't even touched the worst of it yet. There's still enough time to feel like shit. ]

[Just hearing her name stirs something rough and violent inside of Aki. His eyes pin wide as Denji goes on, his brow at first creased when he says that he and Power were still working after his apparent death and then it nearly shoots to the top of his head at his mention of Makima. Because Makima. He can't believe how deeply that name had been buried. Makima.]

[His heart feels like it's in its death throes, thrashing at his memory. Or rather, the complete lack of one. On the bus with Angel, going to the beach to ask her what to do about the situation he'd found himself in. He remembers he talked to her. Said he didn't know what to do about Denji and Power. That he just wanted them to be happy. That he wanted them to live normal lives. No longer suffering in Public Safety. To live the life Himeno wanted for him and that Aki was too blinded to even pass a glance at. It hurts so much to remember that. But there's something heavier beneath even that.]

[He finally hits his chest, suddenly, a rough and harsh motion like a gorilla except with one fist only. He grabs at his shirt and inhales slowly, trying to make it calm down and stop. Just shut up. Shut up. He doesn't care about this guy. Whatever the hell he feels - Aki doesn't care. This isn't about him at all. It's about what she did to him. What she did to Aki.]

[What did she do to him? He can't remember. Whatever she did after he said all of that to her... It's a white slate in his mind.]

She didn't...

[His voice is tense, but he knows this is true. Because it was true for him. He has no idea what she did to him, but he knows that whatever it was it must be the same for Denji.]

She didn't save you. She...

[She what? He looks up at him, his brow tight as he waits for Denji to fill in the blank.]

[What the fuck did she do to them?]

Aki —

[ His name slips out with a jolt when he begins hitting himself, the sound halfway to a yell, even though Aki told him to keep it down. But what does he expect from him when he looks so — so wounded? Concern, confusion, helplessness. All of it brews on Denji's face as he listens to Aki say his piece, his fists clenching and unclenching into his trousers. Denji's a guy of action; when he doesn't know the answer to something, solutions come to him in a glorious spray of blood, guts, and bone. Not this stuff. Seeing Aki like this makes him question if there's a better way to explain everything without living through all these old injuries, without making new ones for him. If only he weren't so stupid, so kicked in the head…

However, this is all Denji knows how to do. So his head dips, seemingly to close in on himself, and very, very quietly, he begins again: ]

…But she did. She took me in, I met her dogs, I watched her laugh — never seen her laugh so much in one night before. [ A mirthless smile. ] Heh, I don't… think it was anything I did, though…

[ Maybe her joy was exaggerated for his benefit that night. Maybe she was glad to see her orchestrations come to fruition. Maybe she was just happy to be near Pochita. Whatever it was, it never had a thing to do with Denji. Strange how the thought still wrings his heart whole, drains him of every one of his senses. Makes him want to die, get swallowed into the ground right there on the spot. ]

After that. [ He stops, without any notice, an awkward silence punctuating the space where more words should be coming out of him, and even Denji looks a little surprised. He tries to continue. Tries to exhale the hotness clawing his chest, up his throat, slow and measured to keep the shudder out of it. He's fine, really. ]

Um, uh, yeah, after that… Y'know, ahh, to celebrate my birthday, Makima told me she invited Power over…

[ The story winds and winds throughout his telling, a thread unspooling from his lips. It's long, it's frayed, but finally it comes undone.

Power behind a door, Makima telling him she was gonna kill her, and even though he knew what would happen, Denji still opening it. Power not being there anymore. Power not being anywhere anymore. Makima showing her hand: her idea to sever his contract with Pochita beginning with realizing Denji's every dream for him, the roles Aki and Power played in that illusion, and how he deserved to be deceived. The Anti-Makima Squad. Chainsaw Man saving Makima. Power saving him. Kishibe's last scheme. Killing Makima. Loving Makima. Eating Makima.

Meeting Nayuta.

And there it is. The truth, or what Denji knows to be the truth, hangs there in suspension in his apartment, a place too small to contain the totality of their combined suffering. But it has to. It has to.

His knuckles rub at the corners of his eyes. He's not crying, he's just… tired. ]

That's it.

Edited 2023-07-21 01:56 (UTC)

[It's almost impossible to focus the longer Denji speaks. Aki keeps thinking to tell him to shut up, that it's enough for tonight. To stop telling him this. That he doesn't want to know any more. At some point despite that, his heart calms down and settles. He stares down at the glass of water on the table. The one antacid tablet sitting beside it, partially melted from contact with spilled water. He watches a small bubble on it pop.]

[The whole thing is still a fog in his memory. Of course he remembers Makima. He remembers her obsession with Denji that she refused to ever explain. The way she dropped him on Aki's doorstep with little notice. Just another dog to take care of. Power, right after. Their life. It was so normal. Everything was normal. He knew Denji's birthday was coming up in a few weeks, back then. He forgot about that all until now. He had asked Kishibe what sixteen year olds want. All he'd said was, "Tits." But Aki had been thinking about something Denji would actually want. Something Power wouldn't try to steal. Maybe something they could share. But he'd never figured it out. He went to the beach before he could make any decision.]

[He reaches up suddenly and drags a hand over his eye, realizing the fog in his brain was just a poor reflection of the clouds in his eyes. Stupid. He rubs the heel of his palm over the other and stares hard at the dusty TV set.]

[A fake family. Playing house. Was that all they were in her eyes?]

[He doesn't even have it in him to ask how the fuck Denji managed to eat an entire person like that.]

[When he finally looks at him, he looks equally tired, exhausted. Emotionally exhausted more than physically. To think all of that happened while Aki lay in a hospital bed, his arm barely pieced back together, trying to ignore the cold feeling in his chest. Cold, hard metal. Denji was here that whole time, suffering even worse. Worse enough to still call it all love.]

Denji.

[He reaches out to him, pressing his fingers through his hair. Less like a pet and more like a stroke. Trying to get a better view of his face before he lowers the hand to his shoulder, squeezing it tightly. Trying to confirm he really is here, sitting in front of him, the woman who killed them both in the room just behind them.]

You've been through so much. [And I couldn't stop any of it.]

[ …Ah. Denji’s gaze lifts, sedately at first, like rousing from a dream. Each word from Aki is immeasurably kind, sending the thing in his ribcage pittering, squirming alive, but none of what he hears quite grips him the same way the weight at his shoulder does. He forgets how to act when Aki isn't telling him to get his shit together. When his eyes go soft around the outer edges like that. Most kindnesses fed to him are ravenously claimed, licked up without leaving a single speck on the plate before anyone can even think of drawing back.

But this. ]

You don’t have to treat me like a kid, [ he mumbles, petulantly, exactly like a kid would. Inexplicably, red singes the tips of his ears. His hand comes up to the top of his hair, rubbing the place where Aki's fingers ghosted only moments earlier. ]

This stuff — s’nothing special. [ People die from devil attacks, from contracts, from grand conspiracies beyond imagination deployed by unseen entities all the time. Makima's actions, while casually cruel and meticulous, aren't systemically uncommon. ] It's like how sometimes when you order udon it comes with hair in the bowl. That doesn't mean you can't eat it!

[ Nonsense analogy aside, Denji looks a little more like himself. No longer is he the only one burdened by this story; this is something they both share now, for better or worse. ]

And, anyway, whatta 'bout you? All you've told me is that the government's taking care of you, but what does that even mean?

[Given the look on Aki's face, he doesn't agree whatsoever. You send a bowl with hair in it back. No one should be made to eat hairy udon.]

[But before he can say anything about it, Denji asks about his own situation and Aki wonders how much he should tell him. He has enough to worry about. The incarnation of the Control Devil as a child, going to school, living on his own... He starts to wonder what kinds of things he eats every day. If he's feeding himself properly. If he's still living off the money Aki set aside for him and Power. He lowers his gaze, dropping his hand from Denji's shoulder. He said not to treat him like a kid, but Denji is a kid. Aki didn't have enough time with him to teach him what he wished he could have.]

That's basically it. [That the government is taking care of him, that is.] Makima must have weakened Gun enough that he needed to turn me into a fiend. After that... [It's kind of a blur. He can't describe the whole story as neatly as Denji did. Which is like complementing a pile of dirty dishes as "neat," but still. He remembers killing Denji, but Denji remembers killing Aki. Either way, the result was the same after, so he skips it.] After that, he made a contract with me. I was told I was found during clean-up and some of the meat chunks the government had adhered to my arm. [He holds up his left arm, turning it vaguely. It still doesn't feel real, doesn't feel fully attached to him.]

...This Gun was sent by America. [He motions to his chest.] They were able to combine it with a bit of what Japan has, with those chunks, but any more and I might lose myself again. Turn back into a fiend. All he wants is to find the rest of himself, but that isn't happening any time soon.

[He leaves out everything else. The devil killing - the bigger killings than what Denji found him doing. The self-imposed societal withdrawal. The attempts at ending them both. Their fruitless goal to remove Gun.]

The government owns the Gun, so they own me. Essentially. [Putting it bluntly, like how Kishibe had explained it to him, way back when.] So they take care of me. That's what I meant.

[ He mulls over the information Aki shares, rolling the strands of his hair between pinched fingers. He knows what ownership means: there are commands to follow, spoken and unspoken rules you can't breach. People to please, and with the complication that Gun's presence presents, an impossible contract to uphold.

So nothing belongs to Aki anymore. Huh.

After a beat, he surmises what they both know, which is the most significant point, to him, at the very least — ] You'll be gone soon. Again. [ His response is awash with aggravation, though none of it is directed at Aki, personally. He's more than a little peevish at Kishibe for keeping secrets from him, definitely gonna try and cave in his nuts for this one, but the drunkard's always so cagey and cryptic about all sorts of random shit, it doesn't really surprise him. ] What the hell.

[ Aki appearing and then vanishing again doesn't sit right, but he has no words for why. It should be enough that Aki's alive, even if they can't bicker over what to have for dinner like they used to or binge any of the movies that have released since the disbandment of their division. There's no reason why they need to be together. This instance alone was nothing but a fluke of timing and convenience, and yet, and yet, and yet… ]

So you're just gonna do what Gun wants? And what the government wants?

Edited 2023-07-22 06:48 (UTC)

[Aki doesn't react to what Denji says first - yes, he'll leave again. He already accepted that. But what he says next... Tension flares into his forehead. He sets his jaw, staring at Denji like he just insulted him. Essentially, he did.]

... My existence is a threat to the nation. [To put it bluntly.] There was a report of a civilian seeing me, so I have to lay low for a bit. The average person can't know that the Gun Devil is a human right now.

[Truthfully, he does believe that. If the public knew that the Gun Devil was not only contained but within the body of a human, chaos would erupt - all because of a misstep he could make. He knows it. The government knows it. That's why he doesn't fight them.]

It has nothing to do with what he wants. Japan can't send its parts of Gun to take the others without starting a world war.

[He stares Denji down, jaw still set. This is nothing like before, when they would argue like kid brothers over the last piece of candy. Aki has had a long year to think about his situation. There isn't much else to do when the mere sight of normalcy was enough to make your head ache.]

I won't be responsible for another human's death. [Again being the missing word.] If that means doing what they says - I've been doing that since I was old enough to join Public Safety anyway.

Rrrrgghhhh…!

[ Elbows balanced heavily against the table's edge, Denji drags the heels of his palms down his face, the puffy skin around his under eyes stretching out as he tries to squash his mounting fatigue.

He doesn't understand, and frustratingly, infuriatingly, because he doesn't understand, he knows he can't sit here and talk shit about whatever Aki does or doesn't do. They only knew each other for a year, maybe even less — that period pales in comparison to however much time Aki's committed his life to purging devils, to protecting others, now add the time they've been apart to that and, well, this is a losing battle. Normally, that wouldn't stop Denji; heroes like Chainsaw Man can withstand all sorts of torture and demeaning to save the day in the name of justice and sweeping pretty girls off their feet.

But Aki doesn't know Chainsaw Man that way. He only knows Denji, and Denji loses all the time. He's not sure if he can live with always hearing the siren call of Aki somewhere mountains and oceans away in his ears, but he might have to. ]

Fuck, whatever! Fine. [ Shoving off from the table with enough force to cause Aki's glass to wobble, Denji stands from where they're seated. His glare matches Aki's at full tilt, his sharpened teeth bared for a split second — then, something in his eyes wavers, but he turns away completely before whatever it is can be identified. ] I'll just shuddup.

[ An I don't care anymore almost makes it out of him toward the end there, but it'd be so transparently untrue, none of his cobbled pride would be able to recover from being seen through. ]

I gotta sleep, anyway. Got pancakes to make tomorrow and stuff. I'll get the other futon out, so just wait here.

[Aki opens his mouth to tell him not to curse, but shuts it. It doesn't feel right anymore. He doesn't feel like he has that right. He knows that Denji won't be convinced by the idea of the greater good, because how can you convince someone like Denji of that? The one who hurled a car at a devil despite a man still being inside yet saved the life of an office lady. His morals simply don't align. Aki has known this.]

[He looks up when Denji says he'll get another futon, about to tell him not to worry, a sort of shame for imposing... But then he hears what he said before on delay and pauses. Pancakes. Really? Not exactly the healthiest thing.]

I'll make you breakfast. [It's sort of payment. But the truth is, he hasn't cooked anything in months. Usually he's delivered food or goes to a government-run cafeteria with bad food that's usually cold when he arrives. The idea of fresh food is kind of exciting.] Does she eat normal food? [The kid, whose room he nods his head back towards. Sure, devils can eat breakfast, but will she throw it off the table like certain other ones he's had the pleasure of rooming with? ...But he doesn't say her name. That wound still feels a little raw.]

[ They keep the extra futon in the bedroom closet, so Aki's offer catches Denji just as he's pulling the sliding door open. He stops in time to avoid letting too much light enter, in case it wakes Nayuta. Denji's mouth purses, his lower lip jutting out in that way it does when he's about to say yes, despite not wanting to. After all, this is awkward for him. Less than second ago, he'd been on the verge of throwing a tantrum at him. Ah, the capriciousness of youth.

He likes Aki's food, though… Who knows when they'll next do something so ordinary with one another? And it is the least the guy can do, if he's just gonna high-tail it outta town sooner or later. ]

…Well, if you want. Her standards aren't super high or anything. [ The bar kinda has to sit firmly on the ground to be able to enjoy Denji's work in the kitchen, which, surprisingly, Nayuta frequently does. There's a reason the two of them were able to subsist on plain toast for that first week of living together. ] As long as it's something she can toss a couple bites to the dogs, she'll like it. Oh, but she'll get mad if you skimp on the sweets.

[ For a moment, it looks like Denji might tack something else on, like a meal request of his own, but he just leaves it at that. Scratches his head and nudges the bedroom door even more open to make enough space for him to squeeze inside. A quick sweep of the room tells him that Nayuta's still peacefully resting, her splayed out form hardly decipherable from the hairy mounds barricading her as he passes by.

When Denji reappears, on one shoulder is the promised rolled up futon, and on the other shoulder hangs a wrinkled t-shirt. He tosses the latter at Aki — unfurled, it says "Chainsaw Man" in bold stylized font. It smells clean, but whether it actually is… That's a mystery. Once the table is repositioned, Denji lets the futon flop out on the ground like a dead fish. No blanket because they don't actually have enough of those. ]

There, go wild.

Edited 2023-07-22 22:10 (UTC)

[To the dogs... Don't they eat their own food? Aki doesn't question it out loud but he does help to move the furniture aside, flashing a glance at the board game seeming abandoned in the corner and the pieces scattered. Such a mess. He takes the shirt when it's offered and stares at it for a moment, brow tight, before deciding it just must be some kind of fashion label and Denji liked it because of the word chainsaw being in it. He's still not fully with him on the whole superhero thing.]

[He doesn't ask for a blanket, either, just saying his thanks and sounding like he means it. Doesn't ask what time Denji has to be at school tomorrow, because he doesn't want to be too bossy, too... something. He just says good night to him and begins to tug off his shirt. The scar that he got from Kobeni what feels like forever ago is completely gone.]

[It's hard to sleep. He keeps sitting up and staring at the door. He thinks about what Angel said a lot. He could just run away. Move somewhere quiet, live a normal life. Ha, ha. Every time he remembers he had laughed at him with no emotion. No actual humor. Ha, ha, ha.]

[When he does wake up, he knows it's still early thanks to the glow of the clock on the TV. It's aggravating him, this space. It's so small and so cluttered. He finally gets up and rolls the futon into a neat pile and stares at the two plants. When he checks the soil for the wilted one, he finds it drenched. Typical.]

[It's hard to really be quiet when you clean but Aki can't sit still in here. There are too many things in this home without there being nearly enough. He washes the glass of water and dries it and finds out where it lives. Puts away the board game and finds the shelf it lives on, which is dusty. So he gets a wet rag and wipes it down. The TV, too. By the time it's six, he's trying to get a weird stain out of the door of the fridge when he hears the bedroom door slide open. The dogs come out first - all the hair he just swept up, he thinks, then watches the kid come out after them. Looking around the apartment like she just woke up somewhere new.]

[She demands her pancakes but Aki tells her he's making something else. He sees the spark of argument in her eyes that he recognizes from Power and cuts her off before she can - that has she ever had Korean pancakes. No, she hasn't. Aki tells her they're just as good as the pancakes Denji makes, which she assures him aren't actually that good. Figures.]

[Eventually he's digging through Denji's fridge in an attempt at finding something, anything to combine into a healthy breakfast. There's no fish so that's out. There's some powdered miso soup so he can make that, but in his head he's making a list. Not enough greens, not enough healthy protein. He chops up what vegetables he can find and fries them into a patty with flour and oil and an egg and then makes a sweet sauce for them to dip in. All told, it's not the kind of breakfast he would make - fried vegetable patty, miso soup, rice, and the sauce - but he'll have to see if he can go to the store for him before he leaves. Maybe write out some recipes for him. Too much to do.]

[The dogs are whining at him, not keen on fried vegetables. He does his best to ignore them. The kid seems to be keeping an eye on him more than anything.]

[He doesn't realize it until he reaches up to push it away - he put his hair up. A force of habit he didn't realize he still had.]

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