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. ]

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[ 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.]

[ On the other side of the door, Denji sleeps just fine. Originally, he toyed with the idea of staying up all night to steal a peek outside every so often, to reaffirm someone, not empty air, was laying there — but as soon as his head struck his pillow, there was simply no going back.

He dreams that night, the sort of dream that simultaneously feels like it might branch from a memory, and yet not at all, once the inconsistencies are tallied. At one point, he's trying to convince this older girl to keep in touch with him after graduation, or at least accept one of his school uniform buttons as a parting gift. At another interval, he's playing volleyball at the beach. And another after that, the mouth of a muzzle is flashing in his face.

Anyway, it might be a good thing that, when Denji lurches awake, he can't seem to recall the specifics of what startled him back to consciousness at all, the effort much like trying to pick out details from undeveloped film negatives. For a moment, he sits there, pushing against the rapid rise and fall of his chest with a hand. Eventually, through his bleary eyes, he registers the barrenness of the room, the light creeping in from where the window blinds are still shuttered. If not for the sounds of kitchenware being set and appliances running, he probably would have collapsed backwards into bed for an indeterminate amount of minutes. Instead, curiosity seizes him by the collar.

The door trundles open. Immediately: It smells good, fresh and fragrant in a way he hasn't ever been able to capture through his own cooking attempts.

Try as Denji might to appear real casual as he leaves the bedroom, stifling a yawn and itching at the cord under his shirt, it's a hard act to maintain when his focus sharpens in on the assortment of dishes arranged on the table. In fact, it lasts not even a second before it's dropped, and he makes a beeline for the scallion pancakes, grubby fingers reaching to tear into what's available. ]

Dibs on — ow, hothothothot!

[ The bit he'd torn off lands right back into place with the other freshly served patties as Denji snatches his hand back, his fingertips reddened from the contact. Nayuta snickers from her seat, looking very suddenly like she's enjoying the change in breakfast menu after all. ]

Yeah, yeah! Keep laughing and the Game Boy's comin' with me to school instead, [ Denji says over his shoulder, moving back into the kitchen area to rinse his fingers. He doesn't really need to when he could pat the oil down on a napkin or something… But the scent of disinfectant hasn't exactly evaded his notice. There's only one culprit here who'd exert himself first thing in the morning, and it seems like he's still toiling away over there. ]

Mornin'. [ He's not sure which to thank Aki for first, the tidied apartment or the breakfast. So, obviously, he opts for neither. ] Your hair — you missed a couple in the back.

[Aki glances over his shoulder when Denji comes out, the way he nearly runs toward the waiting food. He thinks to tell him it's still hot but it's too late and he's getting burned and laughed at by the kid.]

[He turns back around, flicking the tap open and dunking the frying pan under the spray. It feels way too familiar. He doesn't like it.]

Morning. [He steps aside slightly so Denji can use the sink. He thinks that will be it, that he isn't going to say anything about the food, and he's right, but instead it's about his hair. He looks at him vaguely, hands still partially soapy from cleaning the dishes. It's done with a rubber band he took off a bunch of scallions.]

This hand doesn't work as well. [The one he lost, he means, before it was replaced. It works fine, though. Sometimes he has the sensation it isn't there, but it's not that bad. He turns to look back down at the sink and scrubs the sponge into an oily spot, as if he didn't just lie about that at all.] Fix it, if you can.

[He's curious if he will. Curious what he'll do. But it's deeper than that. He wants to know what Denji feels like again. He can't believe how much he craved this sort of thing - how Denji would help him in the mornings to knot his tie or put his hair up. Even just holding his jacket sleeve out for him when he couldn't reach it easily. He had hated it at the time, the thought of feeling incapable, but having someone to rely on... He hasn't had that for too long.]

M'kay.

[ Lie or truth, Denji doesn't think to question him. The same way that he doesn't think to admit to Aki that there aren't actually any noticeable flyaways springing out from the bed of his scalp, the strands bundled together just fine even with a rubber. Aki looks the same as Denji's ever seen him, as he's ever remembered him — maybe that's what this is about. Aware of it or not, maybe Denji wanted to hold onto the sight a little.

Though he'd lightly shaken off the excess water from his fingers in the sink, they're still slick when he steps behind Aki and goes to undo the tie, a few cool droplets falling down Aki's nape. Thoughtlessly, Denji smears a thumb against his skin, to keep them from falling into the neckband of his shirt.

They did this a lot back then, during those off-moments between shifts of watching over Power. He always tugged too hard, his fist coming away with strings of fair hairs after all was said and done, but he can't remember Aki giving him a hard time about it. Which, in hindsight, made him feel worse about not doing a good job. Now, it's satisfying watching his fingers coast front to back, back to front, between the layers. Not quite coarse nor velvety, but soft and pliant enough to be guided to where he's maintaining the tension of the knot toward the center of Aki's crown. He's gotten good at this, has the repetition committed to muscle memory by now from all the practice Nayuta's forced on him, so he doesn't understand why his hands tremble the more he concentrates. Whatever, that's ignorable — if Aki doesn't like the feeling of his nails teasing his scalp, he can say something. After one last comb through Aki's hair to flatten out any obvious bumps and tangles, Denji stretches out the rubber band and finishes off the tail with a clean twist. He lets go.

In the background, Nayuta's calling out to him for help braiding her hair, her mouth full of half-chewed food. ]

Wait your turn, geez — hey, save some for me! [ He starts to leave to Aki's side, but stops short. Looks back, his brows furrowed. ] Did I do good?

[Having physical touch is so weird. It sends the hair on Aki's nape on end, the way Denji's nails run through his scalp and tug his hair into shape. He feels his back straightening which - well, he isn't that much taller than Denji, but he tries to lower his head in response to no avail. It's so strange. So strange to feel Denji do this sort of thing again.]

[He thinks he'll just walk away now, that this wasn't anything, that the brush of his wet finger on his nape to keep the water from running down the shirt Denji lent him didn't make his jaw set. But he stops before running off and asks that. For a moment he thinks he might turn and pat him on the head. A Good boy motion. Something demeaning for asking like that. But he stares down at the sink, at the pan he's been washing the whole time.]

Yeah. Thanks.

[He finally shuts off the water and shakes the pan off before setting it to dry. Once he's cleaned off and ready to sit down, he pauses at the sight of the table, well-set and two people eating at it. The image so normal it actively hurts his brain. He sits down on the hard floor and takes a long drink from a glass of water. His chest hurts again.]

[At some point this morning while cleaning, he realized that Gun doesn't like the girl.]

I'll be talking to Kishibe today. Probably some of the people taking care of me, too. I'll see what they want to do - Where they want me to stay. [So no promises that this will continue.] But I'll leave a note if I need to go.

[ Great, this conversation.

The bowl of miso he's sipping from veils his immediate reaction, his throat pulsing as he swallows the broth down hard. Luckily, the good feelings he tends to associate with food and eating helps to balance out the near-instant pinprick of agitation heating his head… So rather than outright protesting as he wants to, Denji just stares sulkily down at his plate as he heaps more rice on top of another pancake. ]

Whatever… I guess that's fine. [ It isn't, but he'll deal. For the time being. ] I'll still be able to find you later, right? Not like they’re gonna make you go no-contact or something?

[ That's Denji's primary concern if he really has to leave. If Aki's handlers want to hide him away as part of some precautionary measure, fine. Like, getting a postcard would be nice — hearing Aki's voice over the phone would, too, but he won't push his luck. Just something better than always wondering or having to pry non-answers from Kishibe's stitched mouth later. ]

[He looks so... glum. Aki pauses as he considers what to say next. He doesn't want to give him false hope, but...]

I'll see what I can do.

[...but he's also annoyed that he's been lied to. Maybe not outright, but information was kept from him. Maybe part of that was his own fault. Maybe part of that was their plan. Maybe, now that he knows Denji is alive, they think he won't cooperate as much. He doesn't know. Doesn't know if being back in Denji's life is even good for him, when all he wants is for the kid to live a normal life anwyay. Not worry about what Aki is doing for work.]

And - What about her? Do you just stay here during the day? [At first he didn't address the kid but now he speaks directly to Nayuta, looking at her. Is she just going to sit around with the dogs all day doing fuck all? But Nayuta sets him straight immediately - "I'm going to school, duh! I'm a full time student! And I did my homework for today!" Aki visibly startles, looking extremely disturbed as he looks to Denji.] You let a devil go to school? [And Nayuta shouts back, "Of course I go to school! I'm gonna go to college, too! I'll be a genius!" and Aki just looks at a loss. How can you send a devil to college...? Do devils even grow into adults? He has no idea what the hell is happening here.]

Well... What time do you both get home? [Which Nayuta also has an answer for - "Denji goes out to be Chainsaw Man after school, so he gets back whenever he's done!" And Aki just stares at her, like every statement out of her mouth is creating twenty more questions in his head. Because there's that title again. Chainsaw Man. The same as what's on this shirt. And Denji said something about being a superhero... And... He turns to look at Denji slowly, mouth in a grim, flat line. Waiting for an explanation.]

[He's starting to understand why Gun hates this devil.]

[ …And utterly oblivious to any growing concern emerging from Aki's side of the table, the change in Denji's disposition brightens astronomically when Nayuta chimes in. He's more than happy to stoke on his soon-to-be Nobel Prize winner. ]

Yo! Nayuta, that's not right. You aren't gonna be a genius, you already are one! You'll just start getting tons of news press and merch made when you get to big kid school — like me!

[ Yes, because the person with bedhead currently licking rice off his bare knuckles is someone she should aspire to be. Or at least Nayuta seems to think so by how she's nodding her head along while stroking her chin, as if to seriously ponder the advice of a trusted mentor.

"Yeah, but I don't want merch, I just want more pizza in the world," she says, plainly. Denji, the ever supportive caretaker, is about to agree wholeheartedly that more pizza in the world would be fantastic. That is, until he finally gets a good look at the face Aki is pulling at him right then, which, in turn, causes Denji to pull his own face. ]

What? [ Then, it clicks. ] Didn't I tell you already? I'm famous. See, you're even wearing a limited edition Chainsaw Man shirt I got at a fan meet 'n' greet. [ Oh, this gives him an idea. ] …You'll probably miss me when you leave, so you can have it. I'll even sign it for ya.

[ He'll sign it with his real name, the one he can barely spell, just for you, Aki!! Man, it's real hard being so popular.

The thing he himself doesn't realize about Chainsaw Man is that no one properly owns the intellectual property rights to his name or likeness, not even Denji. He's less of an actual signed celebrity to a talent agency and more of a cryptid who regularly tries to hand out his phone number to girls on the street. Sometimes he (selectively) saves people and cats, and that's cool. But, theoretically, anyone could impersonate him. Doubt that'd ever be an actual future problem, though… ]

Edited 2023-07-24 03:50 (UTC)

[...He thinks a devil is going to be a genius and he thinks he's famous. Aki pauses and glances down at the shirt when Denji offers to sign it for him. Then looks back at him, the disbelief now full-on worry.]

What do you mean, fan meet-and-greet? You put your face to this stuff? [If he's just running around killing devils, that's one thing. But if he's doing it in such a flashy way that it goes beyond private hunting... His brow twitches lower.] People don't know it's you, right? Tell me you weren't stupid enough that people know you by this... thing.

[Again he looks down at the shirt. In a way, he's at a loss. Why would Denji put himself out there like that? Doesn't he know how...]

[Suddenly it dawns on him and all the worry and trepidation translates directly into fatigue as he raises his head and looks at Denji again, exhausted. Fans, signing things, fame...]

Are you just doing this to get laid?

[Kid be damned. He doesn't view Nayuta as a child anymore, now that he knows she's a devil.]

Bingo. Why else would I be working so hard? I wanna have a buttloads of sex, dude.

[ Ever wonder what a person with no self-respect looks like, Aki? Effectively proving each one of Aki's worries well-founded, his face splits into a grin so wide it almost looks like a cartoon jaw going unhinged. Denji doesn't even have the decency to look sheepish as he thrusts out a peace sign, nearly toppling over his glass of orange juice. But, hey, Chainsaw Man abides by no duplicities! Wouldn't want to set any bad examples for the munchkin here.

Never mind that in the periphery of their conversation, Nayuta can be seen copying Denji's peace sign. ]

And all that stuff about getting my face out there is a work in progress, got it?! I keep tryin' but it feels like something always gets in the way of my big reveal…

[ Tragic. ]

[The exhaustion on his face is like Aki didn't sleep a wink last night. Truthfully, he barely did, but still. It's been so long since he heard Denji discuss his big plans to experience the miracle that is fucking.]

[But it sounds like people still don't actually know it's him. So that's good. He's still anonymous - Hopefully Aki can convince him to keep it that way. He shakes his head and doesn't say another word about it. He knows how Denji gets when sex is involved.]

At least come home today right after school. I'll show you how to cook a few things, or something. [Even though it sounds like Denji managed to cook and eat an entire humanoid body, but - whatever. He's trying to get him not to be stupid and risking his own neck. Even if he knows better than anyone how a hybrid body works, now - the idea that Denji might actually get found out when he knows how the government feels about that sort of stuff...]

[...Maybe this is why Kishibe didn't want him to know Denji was alive. If he knows, then the feds might find out about him. What would they do with something like Chainsaw Man?]

[Gpd, that's such a stupid name. Under his breath with a sense of disdain he mutters,] Chainsaw Man... I thought you wanted a normal life.

[ If Denji had any appreciation for fine poetry, he'd write verses and verses over the shapeliness of his favorite pornstar's ass. Thank fuck he's still learning how to string coherent sentences together in his head when he and Nayuta flip through her children's books, making that a non-issue, but the moment anyone gets his motor going, they usually have to brace for a circuitous discussion over their favorite position at least. He's sorta gotten better at censoring himself while in the presence of an elementary schooler — just, obviously, not by much, as evident by the exchange from two seconds ago.

So the topic change is advisable, but now there's something else he's not going to be letting go of anytime soon. ]

— You mean it? You'll still be here by then?

[ Dismissing Aki's last remarks for the mumblings of an old guy, Denji visibly perks up, leaning forward against the table. He was considering making his usual prowl near the station for crap to scalp off some of the folks sitting around there, but the thought jettisons from his mind in that very instant. It's only after a full beat has passed that he remembers to play things cool. ]

I mean, like… Dunno, I gotta check my schedule. S'pretty crammed, but maybe I could cancel a couple dates. [ …Ah, screw it, he can't hold back from adding: ] No take backs!

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