[ Power seems taken aback by their distress for a split second, a glimpse of horror reflected in her eyes when her sights sail past them. Lands on the shambling figure hot on their trail, then the unconscious body it drags in tow, a weight that only really serves to hinder its strides. But that's the thing about devils. They never know when to let go of a free meal.
Swinging up the staircase, she fumbles with her keys to get the entrance unlocked and pushed open. She holds the door wide for Denji as he uses the momentum from Aki's shove to run up after her, his heart slamming up hard against the protective tissue it wears, pumping in overdrive. He’s toddling on the edge of blacking out, he can feel it, knows that's what the cold tingles blooming at the side of his scalp is telling him, his vision overexposed and saturated. Fear seizing control of his command center, jamming buttons and pulling levers just to get him spilling through the door frame, not even all the way inside. Power has to drag him in by the pits of his arms to get the door kicked closed, but he's wrenching away from her, throwing himself back at the handle. To get it back open. ]
The door! Open it! Aki’s still — He’s still coming up —
[ Power cuts him off, bluntly explaining that she noticed him head a different direction. Denji stares, feeling galled, feeling lightheaded from the revelation that Aki's doing something so fucking risky. Alone. Like he isn't a kid who's face pinches when he has too much sour candy, who gets misty-eyed whenever he and Power plan a surprise for his birthday. Stupid, stupid, so stupid.
A wet nose nudges into his hand. Pochita. Breathing out shakily, he calms somewhat, and feels an instant squeeze inside the left side of his chest as he gathers the devil inside his arms. Lets his expression fall once his face is safely hidden in his fur.
Usually, Pochita would snuggle into the hug, but this time, he wiggles and struggles in his hold. Turns, so that his tail is furiously smacking the side of Denji's cheek. He tries pushing the thin cable out of the way, but Pochita just reorients himself again and the same thing continues — it's annoying. He generally feels connected to the devil-dog, able to read what he's trying to communicate and vice versa. So why can't he understand he's having a fucking crisis and now's not the time for playing? Growling in frustration, he tugs at the tail, pulling, not hard enough to hurt, but to tell him to knock it off.
But that's when he hears it, the mechanical purr of a combustion engine igniting. Kick-starting. Pochita's eyes blankly widen, the saw jutting from his head pulsing to life. Denji jerks back, but doesn't let go of his tail, nor his back handle. ]
Uh, Pochita?
[ "Waaah, a valorous weapon — Meowy! Your turn!" Power shouts, reaching for her cat, but Denji ignores that part. The word weapon echoing in his mind. Weapon. That's exactly what they need. Power can't stop him in time before he's out the door, Pochita's small form still vibrating in his hands. He frantically follows the trail of rags and rotted skin that'd come off from the devil, realizing that he's being led to the neighborhood call box. His stomach doesn't feel right, belabored by pain and panic, but he forces himself to keep going, running, yelling. ]
Hey, you, face rash! [ Face rash, in reference to the way the thing's inner jaw is fully visible, revealing stretches of decomposed muscle and molded teeth. ] Get away or — or I'm gonna mess you up! R-Really bad!
[He's nearly at the call box whe he hears the sound of Denji's voice, breath coming out heavy and gut punched with so much effort and fear that he almost doesn't think he's actually hearing him. But the sound of the devil's movement slows, just a bit, enough that Aki dares to look back when he's only a few feet from the alarm. He does a double take, grabbing the box and whirling around fully to stare in shock and horror at Denji, standing there with that useless devil in his arms. Holding it like it's a real chainsaw. He breathes heavy, eyes wide and full of fright, then seems to snap to awareness and slams the alarm button on the call box. The siren sounds and begins shining light, drawing the devil's attention back around to Aki who rounds the box to face it. Boxed between two teenagers, it has the sort of expression of someone who just got an extra slice of cake at the company party because they stayed late to help clean up. Extra effort made worth it.]
Denji - Get out of here. [He slowly lowers his bag to the ground, dropping it at his feet as he prepares himself. He was going to run up a tree or something and hope that the devil couldn't climb while he waited for a hunter. That plan's out the window.] Go back -
[But then the devil is moving, suddenly, like it's attracted in some way to the devil in Denji's arms. Or maybe it just sees an easier meal. It lunges toward him like a drunkard toward a barstool and Aki jerks forward to aim at it, sends his body tackling into the devil to make it stumble and flail on its feet before it smacks Aki out of the way. His head snaps to the side at the hit but he ignores the rush of vertigo, getting back on his feet while he screams at Denji, ] Go back! Go back! [all while attempting to launch himself at the devil again to distract it from the combo meal it's aiming for.]
[ Denji can see it now: He could listen to Aki, pivot on his heel, leave this fight to someone who might stand a better chance than he does. He could believe that as soon as he makes a run for it, Aki will, too, that he'll dodge and wheel around to join Denji in his flight out of there. The authorities will arrive. They'll save the passed out student, or maybe the student will die, Denji's not picky about that part, but the rest of their town will be safe, and the two of them will make it home to Power opening the door for them. And then the door will close, the door will stay closed, the door will lock, and this will just be another story he'll forget. One where no one really got hurt. Nothing really changed.
But here's the thing Denji sees beyond all that: The unsteady look in Aki's eyes from the whiplash of being tossed back with the ease of a rolling tumbleweed. The unbalanced lurch in his step. The fear in his voice that's making the devil's grin widen and stretch as it begins to drag the limp body in its grip, swinging the boy at Aki like some crowbar it found off the ground. ]
Pochita.
[ Woof! comes his answer. Instant understanding. That's right, Denji thinks. There's never been any going back.
Denji's not as fast on his feet as he could be, but he does have the advantage of proximity. He's close by enough to barge in between the opening of the devil striking out, feet sliding with a precision of a batter speeding from base to base around the diamond, dust kicking up. The devil doesn't cough around the cloud, though, doesn't even howl as it falls back, its arm disappearing behind the roar of iron cutting away at flesh and bone, spraying pieces of both in a fanning arc. The arm severs, and the student drops like a sack of cement against Aki's chest, rotted hand still clinging to him.
He glances back at the two. That's about the only thing he has time to do before the devil is trundling forward, reaching for him with the arm it has left. Teeth gritting, he charges straight ahead into the devil, feet digging into the dirt to keep it from bowling him over, hopefully to give Aki enough time to roll out from under his classmate. His cheek pressed up against its breast, Denji plunges Pochita into its torso, twisting him, as blood jets out from the wound, misting his face and obscuring his vision. ]
[Toppled over by the weight of the other student's body crashing into him, Aki falls flat on his back and struggles to get out from beneath him. His head is singing in pain and it feels like something just rattled free in his skull but he can't think about that - Because what the hell is that sound?]
[He thinks it must come from somewhere else, someone across the street doing lawncare or something, before he sees a splash of blood cover the ground along with the arm. The student falls into him fully, his whole weight suddenly keeping him down, but over his shoulder Aki watches in shock before blood splashes onto his face. He scoots back and tries to get out from under the sudden weight. When he finally stumbles to his feet and wipes the blood out of his eyes, his vision is still blurry enough that he can't tell what he's seeing. But even if he could, it's doubtful he would understand the image before him: Denji with the little orange bean of a devil, its chainsaw head slashed into the center of the other one, its arm chopped off as it hangs with blood spilling between them both. And all while a chainsaw's motor roars.]
Denji - [Aki stumbles forward, nearly slipping in the mess as he tries to grab for him, tries to find him in the mania. Why is the devil standing so still?? Is it getting ready to hit them harder? Charging up for something? He has no idea, and combined with the harsh whirr of a noise and the alarm coming from the call box he can't get a straight enough thought through to figure this out. His hand finds Denji's arm and he pulls, trying desperatley to get him free. Because surely the devil grabbed him and not the other way around. That much he can understand.]
[ When Aki succeeds in displacing him from the devil, Denji staggers a few steps back into him, falling, breathing in and out so fast it's like his breaths are competing with each other. Pochita whimpers, worried, but otherwise unhurt and still reverberating from the blade down. The same can be said for Denji as well, externally. But his panic and the painful pump of his heart are another story, his free hand clawing at his own chest, trying to push the seizing down, like trying to pinch the flame from a lit wick, except this one's a fuse set for combustion if he doesn't calm himself down. ]
Aki — [ He coughs and a fresher red than what he's covered in hacks out from his lips in viscous globs down his chin. His own blood. Pochita drops unceremoniously to the ground, and Denji winces. Apologetic for not having the strength to even keep him held upright. ] M'chest hurts.
[ This is normal, really. Whenever Denji pushes himself too hard, he'll experience dizziness, sudden hemoptysis, heart palpitations, stuff like that. This is always what happens. With some patience, this whole thing will go away — but the timing's bad. The thing, the zombie is still standing, still trudging toward them despite its body being in worse shambles than Denji's, like a strong compulsion is driving it. One that's not its own. ]
Go. [ Weakly, he shoves at Aki, urging him to leave, but the strength of it is no better than a puppy pawing at someone's knee. ] Take that guy and go away. Pochita will protect me, so you don't hafta… S'part of the contract.
[ Denji's not a good person. Between the unconscious student and him, he wants Aki to choose him over and over. Without thinking, without blinking. He wants to mean the most to him, but he knows that the future Aki has in mind for himself means just as much. If not more. ]
Devil hunters are coming. So it's alright. I'll be alright.
[The simple image of Denji with blood on his lips nearly short circuits everything else inside of him. Aki stares at him with eyes as wide as saucers, terror flooding him. The devil is bad enough. Denji's own body reacting to the stress is even worse. And he has the nerve to tell him to get out of here?]
[He can hear the zombie still shuffling toward them but he doesn't care. Pochita seemed to weaken it enough and he's still standing upright despite the drop so he has to assume the little guy can walk. But even if he couldn't, Aki doesn't care. He's bolting forward to scoop Denji in his arms, hold him tight against his chest as he carries him like a bride, rushing down the street and away from the devil with harsh breaths. Running with him is nothing like carrying him last night, his arms screaming, his chest aching from the way he was hit by the other student, thrown into the ground and knocked around like a piece of plywood. But adrenaline is stronger than pain and he runs like he's in the final stretch of a marathon, eyes still wide and fear still flooding him like a torrent of rain. It's only exciting the devil and he can hear it lumbering after them, slower than before, and he's not even sure where he's going but away when he suddenly hears a horrible chomp like a dog, the splatter of blood on his back.]
[The sound of the dragging footsteps is gone and Aki dares to look back, going completely still at the sight. A fox head with more eys than he can see, surrounded with dust and fog. Hurrying from the midst of that smoke is a man in a black suit, saying something to the massive head before it vanishes into the same smoke, leaving only a sea of foggy clouds and no sign at all of the danger that was just chasing them.]
[Aki stands there panting, still holding Denji in his arms. Pochita is right at his feet, staring up at them both. Like they didn't just witness the most fucked up thing Aki has seen in years.]
What was...
[The words eke out of him quietly, like a creak. The hunter looks their way briefly but, seeing them both with open eyes, chooses to instead check on the other student, hurrying across to examine him where he lays.]
[ Eyes pinched closed, he clutches his brother as if he's his last lifeline, which Aki may as well be in this second. His relief of being chosen is as alive as his despair of potentially condemning them both to not making it out of range in time; the worst part is that he can't do anything about it, can't meddle and protect him any more than what he's already done. He simply has to let himself be taken away, rescued again, as every one of his emotions pulses through his veins, continuing to stretch his heart to its limit.
Then, boom. Air rushes past them, whipping their hair into their eyes, as a snout, a pair of teeth, and many eyes plow through the very systems and organs intended to keep a person alive with a mere close of its jaws. ]
…That?
[ Denji finishes for Aki in a hollow whisper, blood drying his lips. He'd weakly turned in tandem with Aki, a shimmer of awe to his gaze. Hunters can really contract with devils that huge and mighty? ]
T-That was so freaking awesome!
[ It occurs to him, suddenly, that's what Aki's gonna be on some faraway day. A hero belonging on a pedestal to lots people, not just him. He can afford to choose Denji today, but in the future, when he's got devils at his disposal and even more rules to abide by… His choice isn't set in stone.
Denji's grip on Aki's sleeve tightens before he tugs on him. He can let him down now. He's not a baby, and it'd be embarrassing if the whole neighborhood gathered around just to see him being held in such an embarrassing position. ]
I think we're… we're safe. [ They are, but what about… ] Pochita! [ Their companion looks up from licking off blood from his paw. ] Run home. Don't let those guys see ya.
[Awesome is a word for it. Aki continues staring in total shock, eyes wide and still until Denji tugs at him. He carefully lowers him to the ground to stand, but he keeps his arm around him, holding him in place from habit. He's so liable to run off at the first sign he's got some freedom. Denji tells the devil to run home and Aki quickly shakes his head.] Not yet. There might be other hunters out.
[So long as no one saw Denji using the devil, it should be okay, right...? --God, he doesn't care right now, it's not what matters! Why does he care about a stupid little chainsaw devil?! Denji's the one who actually matters. He turns him to face him and presses his hand to his forehead, against his cheeks, then down to his heart.] Are you okay? Open your mouth up, let me see. [His own hands are still sticky with spots of devil blood but at least they aren't either of their blood. Denji's got his own covering of it and it makes it hard to tell how much of it is his, however.] Come here and sit down for a second, and catch your breath, and - Remember what that doctor said, about doing those breathing things? The in-out-in-out? Do that, got it? [He drags Denji over to the curb to sit him down, for now ignoring Pochita completely. More important things are going on.]
I'm going to talk to that guy - Stay right here, got it? Just breathe slow, and count your breaths, do those things, okay? [Only one doctor has ever looked at Denji for his lung issues and it was nearly five years ago, in the orphanage. Aki has been going off that one visit ever since.]
[ After that stunt he pulled taking on the zombie, Aki's mother-henning is expected. Likely even the desired end result, but it doesn't make him feel any less overwhelmed as his hands freely roam across his face, seeking out any injuries — aaah, Denji opens his mouth, teeth red — or flustered, for that matter, when he touches his fingers to his chest. To the left of center, where the quickening flutter of his heart hides. He doesn't have to be so handsy just because he spit out some blood…
Still, he allows him to do what he wants, relishes all of it to a degree. The chance to sit front and center stage in the spotlight of Aki's concern. Perhaps that's why he doesn't put up much of a fight when Aki forces him to sit, only stuttering out, ] A-Alright, [ and then beginning his breathing exercises as instructed. Too fast, at first — it's hard to concentrate, watching Aki walk away, a prick of anxiety pinching at his stomach. Like he's worried that somehow the hunter didn't get all of the zombie, or maybe that there are more zombies where that one came from. Sensing, though, that these thoughts aren't really improving his situation, he attempts to shove them aside.
In-out, that's one. In-out, two. In-in-out-in, uh. Out-out-cut-it-out is what his little mantra deteriorates into, a chiding directed at his dumb heart for not working the way he wants. Damn it.
Pochita runs his tongue against the back of Denji's hand. His nails are grinding into the curb, shredding into uneven edges. Immediately, he releases the tension in his fists. Rewards the good boy with a light pat to the head in thanks.
Once more, he tries to conjure up what that old doc told him those years ago. It had something to do with how when someone drives a car, it's not good to slam on the brakes. You gotta ease your foot down — and to think of breathing in those terms. Denji's never driven a car and probably won't ever have to if he's moving to Tokyo, but as far as he's concerned, this is pretty sound advice. He thinks, at least. Deliberately, he push out his stomach muscles as he inhales, relaxing those same muscles as he steadily breathes a cool current of air out. Repeats that process once, twice, and then a third time. A fourth, for extra measure.
"You okay there?" Deep voice.
Denji's head tilts up. Pretty face.
But then he realizes who he's looking at is a guy, and quickly amends to himself: Ugly face.
Lit cigarette in hand, the hunter squats down in front of him, a trail of smoke hanging in the air above his head like miniature storm clouds. Resisting the urge to give into the cough scratching inside his throat, like a cat batting under the gap of the door, Denji's mouth sets. He darts a look at where Aki is still talking to who he can only presume is this dude's colleague. ]
Um… Been better.
[ Been worse, too, but Denji refrains from sharing that.
The hunter hums, neck rolling, but no sound of a crack ever reaches his ears. "Good. By the by, that weird dog yours?" ]
— My big bro! [ He says at the same time, hoping to disrupt that train of thought. He has no idea what to say next, just keeps looking back at where Aki is, willing him to turn around. Come back. ] He's really worried about me. 'cause of, y'know, what happened. Maybe we should call an ambulance or something to get him off my back —
[ "Easy there, tiger. They're on the way." ]
Oh. Then I gotta tell him. So that he stops, er, annoying me.
[ And with that, Denji begins to stand, a poor attempt at gracefully exiting the uncomfortable exchange, but the sudden altitude doesn't bode well for his lightheadedness. He tips on his feet in an instant, and the hunter's hand appears at his elbow, helping him settle back down, but the expression on Denji's face is far from relieved. ]
[His classmate is dead. Aki realizes that when he's still a few feet away and sees the hunter placing his jacket over the boy's face, covering the bloodstain dribbling across the concrete. He hesitates before coming over, but the hunter finally spots him and seems relieved - that he's okay, that he's a witness, he doesn't know. Heading over to him from the body of the other boy, he starts asking all sorts of questions. Is he okay, what happened, was anyone else hurt. Where the devil appeared. If there were any other around. Aki stands with his back straight, answering everything he can. All while his eyes dart furtively to his bag, dropped beside the alarm that's finally stopped ringing. His wallet is in there. But he'd have to pass the body to get to it. And why does that feel so cruel?]
[Maybe because it could have been him. Or Denji. Or anyone, really. Wrong place, wrong time. That's what people say about devil victims. When he finally steels himself to get his bag, the hunter asks him suddenly if he knows the kid he was with, if he's okay, too. As Aki passes the body to get his bag, he keeps his head turned to avoid looking at it, avoid thinking about how his whole weight fell into him and gave him the ache in his chest he still has, but by turning around he spots Denji being grabbed. At least, that's what it looks like from his vantage point: The hand on his arm, grabbing him as he stumbles like he's trying to avoid it. The way Denji's pale face seems to flinch in distrust or worry or something, he's too far to see. Aki snatches his bag in a sudden rush to hurry back to him, calling out,] Hey!
[And then Denji is being set down again, lowered against the curb as Pochita presses in close. Aki quickly gets between him and the other hunter, only realizing as he gets closer that's who the man is, that he's not trying to snatch him away, take him somewhere new. Face flushed partially from annoyance, partially from embarrassment at misreading the scene, he squats down to Denji's level and presses his hair back to feel his forehead again, then down to grab his wrist to feel his pulse.] Are you okay? Don't stand up, every time, I have to tell you that -
["We got an ambulance coming," the not-kidnapper hunter tells him as the Fox wielder comes over as well. "Might want to get him - "]
He's okay. [Quickly blurted out as he stands back up, stepping in front of Pochita as he does, trying to block both the devil and Denji from their view.] We live close by. He's just bloody, from that fox head. He'll be okay, once he's cleaned up.
[The two hunters obviously look like they don't believe him, but Aki looks down at Denji expectantly.] Come on. Let's go home. You can ride on my back, come on.
[ Semi-consciousness limbo is never fun. It's this strange, aerated state where he feels like he's floating, he can hear voices discussing his well-being, and his eyes are wide open, but his vision keeps flickering in and out. That should alarm him: darkness, then light; light, then darkness. An endless cycle from hell. But on the bright side, he can hold himself upright, at least. That he's not flopping over and worrying his brother into a premature vascular disease of his own should count as something. Some kind of win, God, he needs one.
When Aki takes his temperature, he'll notice his skin is somewhat cool to the touch, yet perspiring all over. Clammy. His pulse, now much slower than the average beats per minute. The other times this has happened, he's gotten better with a few hours spent laying down, a glass of water, and a sports drink. Oh, and potato chips help, too. Yeah, that should do it.
Denji doesn't think this is any different from the norm. So when he hears him suggest they go back, he's too happy to grope a hand out, feeling around for the sturdy back he knows is turned toward him, despite being unable to make out his form.
He slumps forward, arms not even wound entirely around his neck, just hanging from his shoulders like a battered stole. Feeling safe enough to let his eyelids shut. ]
Y… Yeah. Les'go home. Jus' needa nap.
[ The hunter that'd been trying to engage Denji doesn't stop them, but he does insist upon exchanging address and contact information. If they have any follow-up questions, they'll be in touch, to definitely visit with a medical professional if the two of them change their mind, and probably other stuff that devil hunters always say in the TV dramas. His mind is so fatigued, he can't make out the rest, all of it distant and going over his head. He can't tell if Pochita is with them or not, either, but he's choosing to trust that he is. That Aki is keeping him safe.
He only gets this vague sensation he's being lifted up, and that they're trudging slowly somewhere. Home, he hopes. Or just some place warm that's warm, all light. Some place he can sleep for a long time and wake up feeling better. ]
Sorry, Aki. [ Denji's face fits into the narrow passage between Aki's shoulders, some of the blood that'd yet to dry inking his nape. ] 'm sorry you gotta carry me again… You not hurt?
[Cold skin, drooping eyes, wide pupils. It's the things Aki remembers from before, from other fainting spells Denji has had. It's even more reason for him to want to get out of here as soon as he can. Stripping off his own school jacket, he drapes it around Denji's shoulders as he lets him lean into him, in this moment privately glad that he's a size larger than him, that Denji's small, lithe, and skeletal body is useful in some shitty way like this. He hesitates when the hunters stop him, the desire to get away from this whole scene at once and see Denji perk back up once he has fluids in him hitting head-first with his good-boy personality. Obeying authority. Doing the right thing. He waits, telling them both the address. Declining an offer to be walked there by one of them. Assures them Denji is only faint from fear, that he's dealt with this before. And Aki can help him. Aki can make it better.]
[Once he's up on his back, Pochita barks at him. He glances down. Doesn't understand the look the devil is giving him. "That yours?" one of the hunters asks. Studying him carefully. Aki nods his head once, reaches down to snag Denji's book bag alongside his own. Pochita barks again, leaping up to bite at it, and he realizes it. He's trying to ask to help.]
It's okay, I got it... Just walk. [Truthfully he just doesn't want the devil to drag the bags, possibly damage them and rip them open. He motions for the devil to follow and, for the second time in a week, carefully begins on the way home from an incident where he thought all of this would end in a blink of an eye. Denji on his back, a devil at his feet]
[When Denji mumbles into his back, he hoists him a little higher, as if showing that he's fine, ignoring the pain in his chest.] Don't apologize to me. I can carry you just fine - That's part of my duty. [As his brother, that is. Comes with the territory.] Keep talking. It's better if you don't fall asleep. Look - he's right here, too. Pochita.
[He glances down briefly, the shine from his chainsaw blade still reflecting light despite the blood splatter. He looks away.]
[It's only a couple blocks back to the apartment, but Aki keeps talking to Denji as he walks. Just random things, whatever comes to mind. If he can tell him which day of the week it is, how many more days 'til winter break. Asks him to remind him how that old nursery rhyme goes, about the rolling acorn. About how come they always compared Aki to the loach in the song. And how embarrassing it was that they'd make him cry by singing it at him, way back when. Just - anything, to make sure he doesn't pass out.]
[When he finally has him home and can strip off his bloody clothes and wrap him in a warm blanket, Power springs into action, casting a spell on some ice water before bringing it over to him (she put honey in it, the goo floating on top and unable to dissolve in the cold) while Aki pours an electrolyte drink into a glass. They both sit down around him and encourage him to drink what they've made for him, nearly fighting one another over whose drink is more effective. But even with the argument brewing between them, their eyes barely ever leave him, constantly aware of him, waiting for him to get better. Since he always does, eventually. Always. All while Aki is keenly aware of the devil licking its paws in the corner of the room.]
[ Compared to all the other ways a bottomfeeder like him could go out in the future, dying like this wouldn't be so bad. A painless slip into the quiet null, held tight by someone who shouldn't care about him, but does, anyway. No struggle, no brutality — just an acorn finding its way back to the dark soils it came from.
But Aki talks to him. Jumps from topic to topic, as if throwing out bait to a housepet that's wandered too far out from its gated yard, and Denji rises to it each time. His answers are weak and unintelligible: It's melon bread day (so Thursday, since that's the only day the school store sells those). They have 10 days until winter break (wrong, they have 21 more days to go). Denji doesn't remember how the nursery rhyme goes, so he choppily hums the melody to reassure Aki that he's still listening, that there's still hope he'll make it back home safe.
The images in his vision start to take shape and sharpen as soon as they're through the door, even more so once his back is relaxed up against his futon, cool and breathable. Power and Aki fuss and feud, but he doesn't have it in him to mind — call it a sight for sore eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows every last drip of their proffered drinks, Power's less enthusiastically because, while the honey is sweet and Denji likes sweet things, the texture of the concoction is goopy and unsettlingly congealed. Regardless, he downs all of it, his chin sticky with the dribble of both, on top of the film of blood still there, but he doesn't bother wiping any of it off; he'll wash his face later.
Right now, he's got something to say. ]
I… think I figured it out.
[ The words crack out of him, slow, like the stretch of egg white drooping when you hold the broken shell half-closed. ]
When somethin' bad happens, y'always… try to make things less bad. Most folks will just mosey away and hand off that kinda chore to some other sucker. But you —
[ You can’t bear it.
Denji only sighs through that part, though, instead of outright saying it. Then, blinking up at the ceiling, he remembers to add: ] That's why you were the loach, I mean.
[ And maybe, Denji can only guess, that's why he always seemed to hate playing the role so much. The duty of it, of having to carry them both on his back until they were ready to grow up. Maybe… ]
[When he's finally drank everything and seems to have a little more color to his face, Aki dares to step away for just a moment, long enough to get a damp rag and begin the careful process of cleaning off his face of blood and who knows what else. He figures if Denji dozes off now it's okay, since he doesn't seem like he'll actually faint, just sleep from exhaustion. But he'd still like to make sure he's clean, changed, proper, before any of that happens. Folding the rag over to find a cleaner spot, he pauses when Denji starts talking.]
[...In truth, he just never liked the song. He thinks it was one of the songs they sang at that orphanage because all of them had been whisked away from their homes in some fashion, blown by the wind into a lake and ended up crying because they missed the woods. To think of himself as the loach, as someone who had always been without a home to fall from, like he was someone they would play with for a little while without actually solving anything... He remembers being so upset about that. Crying like a child. And being scolded for it by the caretakers, told he should be a better role model. He's older, after all.]
[But, to think Denji might have thought of his role as something permanent after all, a problem solver who, really hasn't solved much... He presses the rag into his forehead and carefully massages at a reddened mark on his skin.]
You can be so stupid, sometimes.
[Most people would say he's always stupid. But Aki knows he has his moments. He's clever in an annoying way. A problem solver, even if his solutions are skewed and Aki can't see his work to understand how he arrived at them. He likes to think Denji wouldn't ignore someone who needed help. That he wouldn't leave it to another sucker. He hopes he's impacted him enough to think about it differently. But it opens at a sore spot in his own logic to be told he's looking out for others, when he knows he's purposefully avoided something major.]
...I don't want to take you to the hospital. Because they might not let us visit you, or share your information with us.
[Being that he isn't Denji's legal guardian and their actual legal guardian is, essentially, the government, he can't bear the thought that something like that would separate them. That Denji might be taken. Again he folds the rag to scrub over his cheek next.]
But you should see a doctor again. At least to see if there's anything we can do here.
[ Denji wants to frown at that suggestion, or turn his face away, but everything from his chin to his temple still hurts from his fall earlier. He raises a hand — ow, that hurts, too, actually, crud, whatever — means to push Aki's rag away, then rethinks that decision in a second's span. Reroutes to pinch the sand from his eyes, feeling the crust crunch between his fingers.
Seriously, a doctor? Get real.
What's the doctor gonna do besides give him some deadly grave look, jot down a few confidential notes, and refer them to a specialist they can't afford? Maybe they'll tell him to exercise more, spend more money to eat a particular type of fish or lean meats this time. Man, he'd rather die than eat a miserable meal, Aki's eyes fixed on him to make sure he finishes every last bite. Worried, like how he looks now, gently wearing away at all the leftover blood still covering him, without any regard to the dirt and splatter still staining his own clothes. Stupid. ]
I just, I dunno. I don't like the doctor, Aki… I'd rather you take care of me — hrk!
[ Without warning, Power wrenches his head into her lap, a loud, yet harmless, pop sounding from his neck. All of a sudden, her fingers are digging into his scalp, kneading painfully into his head. She says something about nurses as buxom as herself potentially administering his care just like this because she knows how simple he is about that stuff, and though he could do without having his head fully pummeled like dough, her unconventional methods sorta work in a way, a flicker of interest catching in his eyes. ]
Alright, I gave it some thought. [ He didn't give it any thought. ] I'll go see the doc — but only if Aki goes, too. [ Denji looks at him, pointedly. ] You got smacked around earlier. We gotta make sure you still have more brain power than Powy and I combined. Someone's gotta.
[ "'Tis too late for him to beat my 1000 IQ! I have a brain and my name is Power!" she laughs, maniacally. Or manically. It's hard to tell with her. ]
[Aki definitely doesn't want to have a doctor look at him. He's physically fine, so if they randomly told him there was something wrong with him that wasn't affecting him yet, what good would that do? And sure, his chest still hurts from where the student's body was thrown into him but it'll be gone by morning.]
[But just like how Power tempts him with the idea of being able to ogle the bodies of nurses and doctors in their oh-so-sexy scrubs and lab coats, Aki knows telling him as much won't do anything. Just as he knows ice water and electrolytes aren't going to solve the problem, and that's about the limit to what he's capable of doing.]
Fine, we'll go together.
[Of course he's concerned about Denji being sent to some specialist, but... But maybe if they give him some words he can look up in the library and find some easier solutions for that don't require x-rays and blood tests and all those things, maybe he can figure it out by himself. At least until he graduates and has the money to send him to a fancy doctor who will put him in a machine, spin him around, and totally fix him.]
[Or however that works.]
But for now, you need a bath. Get undressed. [He doesn't trust him in there alone when he's still clearly woozy, so their little bathroom will have to support both of them.] Power, I'll give you some money, so go and pick up dinner from the convenience store.
[Power pretends to think that over, mulling as she rolls her fingers through Denji's hair (this is acupuncture, apparently), then clarifies that she can buy them some fried chicken as she's done medical studies that prove it's good for devil attacks. Aki approves of the idea, and she's on her feet in an instant excited about the idea.]
[ And in that same instant of excitement, Power drops him, no problem — ] Oof. [ She doesn't even have the decency to lay his head back down on the pillow that's right there before she's skipping out the door. But at least, by the look of it, they're getting fried chicken. Dinner of champions, and all that.
Rubbing the back of his head, Denji unsteadily hoists himself upright, a hand snapping out to clasp on to Aki's shoulder to avoid narrowly tipping straight back into the futon. A heavy breath emits from him. So this amount of movement is still hard for him… Well, it's good to know what his limits are. That way, he knows just how much to push and challenge them.
He doesn't bother trying to stand at his full height in this condition; he knows that he'll need Aki's help just to make it to the bathroom without cracking his head open. Once he feels balanced enough to release him, Denji drags his shirt up from the back, then works off the bottoms of his uniform with a few kicks. He doesn't touch his underwear because, uh, the cat and dog pair are staring at him from the foot of the bed, like they're watching a squirrel fidget about on the windowsill. Not that there's really much to study of his reedy frame; whenever he looks himself in the mirror, he barely feels any taller or wider than the patches of horsetail some grandmas in the area grow in their little plant beds. The whole of him, only a fraction of a person.
Anyway, this is about as good as it's gonna get for him. He looks at Aki, both his hands raised toward him, expectantly. ]
[Fried chicken, only, isn't going to cut it. He's going to need to make something healthier, some greens or maybe some porridge with plenty of healthy broth. Aki is thinking about that as Denji struggles to sit up and nearly misses his toppling, reaching out to grab him at the last second. He holds onto him until he's mostly upright and undressed to his skivvies, reaching for him like a child wanting to go up. Well... He still is that, in a way.]
Come on. [He leans over to lift him up, hoisting him over his shoulder before carefully pulling himself to his feet. He's a little unsteady for a few steps before he gets the weight distribution and can carry Denji the short walk to the bathroom. Plop him down inside on the stool before he can let his fingers dig too hard into the brittle ribs that seem to nearly pop out of his skin. He can hear a soft pochi sound behind himself and looks over his shoulder. The devil, peeking in from the doorway. He sighs and motions the thing in before shutting the door.]
Take your underwear off, too. Here. [He strips his own clothes off as he speaks, a blood-stained pile left on the edge of the door before he helps Denji sit up enough to get the rest of his clothes off. Once they're both nude and Pochita is busy sniffing the pile of laundry, he turns on the showerhead and begins spraying him down, starting at his hair, fingers running through blond locks until he stops seeing a faint pink river fall from his neck.]
You can lean back against me, if you need to. But don't fall asleep yet.
[ Aki drapes him over his shoulder like he's watched him do with Meowy so many times before, usually when she won't stop climbing on top of the counter to sniff, full-faced, into their food, and Denji… weirdly doesn't mind. It does make him feel like a kid, but not in the way that immediately incites him to prove otherwise. More like, he feels — safe, as if Aki isn't going to let him fall.
Between the two of them, they're in for a mess — he can already tell, staring down at how the dirt and blood snake toward the drain, hypnotized. The whole bathroom is probably going to need a good hose down after this, some of the pink speckling out from his hair and onto nearby wall tiles from the force of the spray. Hunched over, hair fanning over his face, that's the way Denji falls asleep for a moment, then jerks back awake when Aki speaks to him, his head bobbing up. ]
H-Hahwhuh? I… wazzun't 'sleep. [ He knows Aki isn't going to believe him. He looks back as he reclines into him, anyway, leaning heavily into one side over the other, as if to say, See? Awake. The strained, half-lidded droop of his eyes isn't really telling the story he believes it is, though.
…A pause. His gaze dips, a hand rising to press into Aki's chest. ] Nothin' feels too broken in there? You're not gonna go to sleep and not wake up, right?
[ There are stories like that on the news sometimes. People who look perfectly fine, dying from internal hemo-something. Hemo-raging? Anyway. ]
[Aki's gaze goes a little sharp at his question, clearly upset with the phrasing.]
Nothing's going to happen to me. I'm fine.
[Even if his shoulders tensed a little at the prod, his stomach sucking in with brief pain. But it's nothing big, just a bruise that's still in its welting stage, only red and white and not yet hard. In the growing warmth of the bathroom and the flush of his skin, he expects it to all blend in. To draw his attention away, he turns Denji's head back around and tells him,] Sit still. [Then starts massaging shampoo into his scalp, pushing out any remainder of blood that may be hiding in his roots.]
...Don't say something like that. Falling asleep and not waking up. [He can't ignore it well enough. The itch of it still bothering him.] I'm not going anywhere. Some low-grade devil like that isn't enough to hurt me. You know that.
[ The trim of Aki's voice has Denji biting back initially, somewhat taken off-guard by minor amount of force behind his words, but his expression swiftly shifts to one of annoyance. Aki's always fussing over him. He should be able to take what he keeps dishing. ]
Still, that guy it threw at you — [ He didn't get the same clear view of him the way Aki did, but there was something weird about how that zombie swung him around, like he was completely weightless, boneless, the guardrails that make someone form the shape of a person insignificant. There wasn't even a grunt from him when he hit Aki. His point should be obvious. ] I'm just sayin'. He even looked taller than you, like the kind that does tons of sports. But he still ended up like that.
[ Unconscious and hurt, he assumes. Denji doesn't know whether he wound up dead or alive, if they scooped him away on a gurney or in a body bag. His head falls forward, hair hanging as beads of soapy water pelt the tiles, dissipating. ]
[He shouldn't be so aggravated to hear this, but Denji's concerns
pick at a scab on him that he's tried to hide. He doesn't want anyone to
know he might have even the smallest amount of fear inside of him when
dealing with a devil. Doesn't want Denji or Power or anyone else to ever
think he might get scared, or even worse - get hurt. No, not just hurt. He
can deal with getting hurt, he's gotten into enough scuffles in his life
that pain doesn't bother him like that. But Denji voices the real concern
of something even worse happening without even realizing it. "Ended up like
that."]
I'm not going to die.
[Tense and flat. Unwavering despite how it feels like Denji just
tore that scab off in one deft yank, fresh blood flowing from the
half-healed wound. He's not going to die. He can't die yet.]
Killing devils and sports aren't the same thing. It's not just about being
strong. It's about being smart. Keeping calm.
[He sprays his hair clear, watches the final bits of blood wash into
pale streams. When he sets the shower head down, he takes the moment to
breathe slow, exhale before he turns back around. Expression steady.
Unaffected.]
No devil is ever going to knock me around like that.
[ I'm not going to die. Aki says it like the swing of an axe, a sharp finality meant to cleave through Denji's uncertainty, the suspicion that his brother's resolve may not hold as true as he thinks. That he's not as ready to commit himself to the life of a devil hunter as he lets on. Each word after that hits like he's trying to finish the job, hacking away because the first strike wasn't enough to hit center.
Denji can partly tell that he's not the sole person Aki is speaking to, but he gives a short, weary nod like he is. Not necessarily in agreement, but to indicate he's listening. It's hard imagining Aki dying, not because he can't, but because it's all too easy to visualize. He'd rather pretend he's safe from all that stuff. ]
…You were cool back there, I guess. [ He tilts his head, twisting his hair to strain out the water. He probably needs a haircut. ] Just dunno if I'd call it calm. But it's fine — if anything tries to knock you on your ass again, I'll stop it. I mean, you saw me. I was like, like a superhero out there. I came in like fwoosh — ow, crud, I got something in my eye.
[ Real badass superhero here. Some of the residual suds lightly burns at his eyes, the scrapes adorning his face, and Denji tries to roughly scrub at his face. When that doesn't work, he gropes around for the nozzle, hoping that spraying himself in the face will help. ]
[...Okay, so maybe he wasn't as calm as he wanted to be, but he's
still training, okay? Plus, Denji was in there, and how is he supposed to
stay calm if someone he knows is involved? Especially if it was him or
Power. There's no way he could play it cool in that situation. ...Not yet,
anyway.]
Yeah, a real superhero. [His voice drips with sarcasm at that as he
turns the faucet back on and helps him get the soap out of his
eyes.] If you ever do something like that again, I really will make
you sleep in Meowy's travel crate. That little devil you picked up can
hardly cut through a tree trunk, let alone another devil.
[He grabs the washcloth and suds it up in his hands before scrubbing
off his back next, the thin stains of blood that seeped through his
jacket.] Don't ever do that again. I'm not kidding. I meant it,
that I'd take you training with me, but that's just so you can get away
when you need to. You can't fight with - [- your body Ugh.
No, he won't say that.] ...with that devil. It's not strong enough.
[ With the faucet on, water quickly clears his eyes, his vision returning to him, steadying on the mass of color comprising their deformed reflections in the silver shower head. He begins to relax back into him again, but then Aki's adopting that grating tone of voice he reserves for when he's playing parent and chewing them out. Making it obvious that if he weren't busy ensuring Denji won't dirty his pajamas when he changes, he'd rather be standing over him, arms crossed, with a disapproving glower.
His shoulder blades rise, bones nearly looking the way an overflowing grocery bag looks, right before the bottom bursts. But then air is going out the same way it came in, frustrated, and battering through his clenched canines. Pochita looks up at them, sensing the shift in his demeanor. ]
Then don't scare me like that, [ he mutters. If he weren't so tired, he'd probably yell it at Aki. Hypocrite. ] I'll do what you want, whatever. Just don't do that. Don't run the other way, without me.
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no subject
Swinging up the staircase, she fumbles with her keys to get the entrance unlocked and pushed open. She holds the door wide for Denji as he uses the momentum from Aki's shove to run up after her, his heart slamming up hard against the protective tissue it wears, pumping in overdrive. He’s toddling on the edge of blacking out, he can feel it, knows that's what the cold tingles blooming at the side of his scalp is telling him, his vision overexposed and saturated. Fear seizing control of his command center, jamming buttons and pulling levers just to get him spilling through the door frame, not even all the way inside. Power has to drag him in by the pits of his arms to get the door kicked closed, but he's wrenching away from her, throwing himself back at the handle. To get it back open. ]
The door! Open it! Aki’s still — He’s still coming up —
[ Power cuts him off, bluntly explaining that she noticed him head a different direction. Denji stares, feeling galled, feeling lightheaded from the revelation that Aki's doing something so fucking risky. Alone. Like he isn't a kid who's face pinches when he has too much sour candy, who gets misty-eyed whenever he and Power plan a surprise for his birthday. Stupid, stupid, so stupid.
A wet nose nudges into his hand. Pochita. Breathing out shakily, he calms somewhat, and feels an instant squeeze inside the left side of his chest as he gathers the devil inside his arms. Lets his expression fall once his face is safely hidden in his fur.
Usually, Pochita would snuggle into the hug, but this time, he wiggles and struggles in his hold. Turns, so that his tail is furiously smacking the side of Denji's cheek. He tries pushing the thin cable out of the way, but Pochita just reorients himself again and the same thing continues — it's annoying. He generally feels connected to the devil-dog, able to read what he's trying to communicate and vice versa. So why can't he understand he's having a fucking crisis and now's not the time for playing? Growling in frustration, he tugs at the tail, pulling, not hard enough to hurt, but to tell him to knock it off.
But that's when he hears it, the mechanical purr of a combustion engine igniting. Kick-starting. Pochita's eyes blankly widen, the saw jutting from his head pulsing to life. Denji jerks back, but doesn't let go of his tail, nor his back handle. ]
Uh, Pochita?
[ "Waaah, a valorous weapon — Meowy! Your turn!" Power shouts, reaching for her cat, but Denji ignores that part. The word weapon echoing in his mind. Weapon. That's exactly what they need. Power can't stop him in time before he's out the door, Pochita's small form still vibrating in his hands. He frantically follows the trail of rags and rotted skin that'd come off from the devil, realizing that he's being led to the neighborhood call box. His stomach doesn't feel right, belabored by pain and panic, but he forces himself to keep going, running, yelling. ]
Hey, you, face rash! [ Face rash, in reference to the way the thing's inner jaw is fully visible, revealing stretches of decomposed muscle and molded teeth. ] Get away or — or I'm gonna mess you up! R-Really bad!
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[He's nearly at the call box whe he hears the sound of Denji's voice, breath coming out heavy and gut punched with so much effort and fear that he almost doesn't think he's actually hearing him. But the sound of the devil's movement slows, just a bit, enough that Aki dares to look back when he's only a few feet from the alarm. He does a double take, grabbing the box and whirling around fully to stare in shock and horror at Denji, standing there with that useless devil in his arms. Holding it like it's a real chainsaw. He breathes heavy, eyes wide and full of fright, then seems to snap to awareness and slams the alarm button on the call box. The siren sounds and begins shining light, drawing the devil's attention back around to Aki who rounds the box to face it. Boxed between two teenagers, it has the sort of expression of someone who just got an extra slice of cake at the company party because they stayed late to help clean up. Extra effort made worth it.]
Denji - Get out of here. [He slowly lowers his bag to the ground, dropping it at his feet as he prepares himself. He was going to run up a tree or something and hope that the devil couldn't climb while he waited for a hunter. That plan's out the window.] Go back -
[But then the devil is moving, suddenly, like it's attracted in some way to the devil in Denji's arms. Or maybe it just sees an easier meal. It lunges toward him like a drunkard toward a barstool and Aki jerks forward to aim at it, sends his body tackling into the devil to make it stumble and flail on its feet before it smacks Aki out of the way. His head snaps to the side at the hit but he ignores the rush of vertigo, getting back on his feet while he screams at Denji, ] Go back! Go back! [all while attempting to launch himself at the devil again to distract it from the combo meal it's aiming for.]
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But here's the thing Denji sees beyond all that: The unsteady look in Aki's eyes from the whiplash of being tossed back with the ease of a rolling tumbleweed. The unbalanced lurch in his step. The fear in his voice that's making the devil's grin widen and stretch as it begins to drag the limp body in its grip, swinging the boy at Aki like some crowbar it found off the ground. ]
Pochita.
[ Woof! comes his answer. Instant understanding. That's right, Denji thinks. There's never been any going back.
Denji's not as fast on his feet as he could be, but he does have the advantage of proximity. He's close by enough to barge in between the opening of the devil striking out, feet sliding with a precision of a batter speeding from base to base around the diamond, dust kicking up. The devil doesn't cough around the cloud, though, doesn't even howl as it falls back, its arm disappearing behind the roar of iron cutting away at flesh and bone, spraying pieces of both in a fanning arc. The arm severs, and the student drops like a sack of cement against Aki's chest, rotted hand still clinging to him.
He glances back at the two. That's about the only thing he has time to do before the devil is trundling forward, reaching for him with the arm it has left. Teeth gritting, he charges straight ahead into the devil, feet digging into the dirt to keep it from bowling him over, hopefully to give Aki enough time to roll out from under his classmate. His cheek pressed up against its breast, Denji plunges Pochita into its torso, twisting him, as blood jets out from the wound, misting his face and obscuring his vision. ]
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[Toppled over by the weight of the other student's body crashing into him, Aki falls flat on his back and struggles to get out from beneath him. His head is singing in pain and it feels like something just rattled free in his skull but he can't think about that - Because what the hell is that sound?]
[He thinks it must come from somewhere else, someone across the street doing lawncare or something, before he sees a splash of blood cover the ground along with the arm. The student falls into him fully, his whole weight suddenly keeping him down, but over his shoulder Aki watches in shock before blood splashes onto his face. He scoots back and tries to get out from under the sudden weight. When he finally stumbles to his feet and wipes the blood out of his eyes, his vision is still blurry enough that he can't tell what he's seeing. But even if he could, it's doubtful he would understand the image before him: Denji with the little orange bean of a devil, its chainsaw head slashed into the center of the other one, its arm chopped off as it hangs with blood spilling between them both. And all while a chainsaw's motor roars.]
Denji - [Aki stumbles forward, nearly slipping in the mess as he tries to grab for him, tries to find him in the mania. Why is the devil standing so still?? Is it getting ready to hit them harder? Charging up for something? He has no idea, and combined with the harsh whirr of a noise and the alarm coming from the call box he can't get a straight enough thought through to figure this out. His hand finds Denji's arm and he pulls, trying desperatley to get him free. Because surely the devil grabbed him and not the other way around. That much he can understand.]
Come on - Come on, just - Let 'im go -
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Aki — [ He coughs and a fresher red than what he's covered in hacks out from his lips in viscous globs down his chin. His own blood. Pochita drops unceremoniously to the ground, and Denji winces. Apologetic for not having the strength to even keep him held upright. ] M'chest hurts.
[ This is normal, really. Whenever Denji pushes himself too hard, he'll experience dizziness, sudden hemoptysis, heart palpitations, stuff like that. This is always what happens. With some patience, this whole thing will go away — but the timing's bad. The thing, the zombie is still standing, still trudging toward them despite its body being in worse shambles than Denji's, like a strong compulsion is driving it. One that's not its own. ]
Go. [ Weakly, he shoves at Aki, urging him to leave, but the strength of it is no better than a puppy pawing at someone's knee. ] Take that guy and go away. Pochita will protect me, so you don't hafta… S'part of the contract.
[ Denji's not a good person. Between the unconscious student and him, he wants Aki to choose him over and over. Without thinking, without blinking. He wants to mean the most to him, but he knows that the future Aki has in mind for himself means just as much. If not more. ]
Devil hunters are coming. So it's alright. I'll be alright.
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[The simple image of Denji with blood on his lips nearly short circuits everything else inside of him. Aki stares at him with eyes as wide as saucers, terror flooding him. The devil is bad enough. Denji's own body reacting to the stress is even worse. And he has the nerve to tell him to get out of here?]
[He can hear the zombie still shuffling toward them but he doesn't care. Pochita seemed to weaken it enough and he's still standing upright despite the drop so he has to assume the little guy can walk. But even if he couldn't, Aki doesn't care. He's bolting forward to scoop Denji in his arms, hold him tight against his chest as he carries him like a bride, rushing down the street and away from the devil with harsh breaths. Running with him is nothing like carrying him last night, his arms screaming, his chest aching from the way he was hit by the other student, thrown into the ground and knocked around like a piece of plywood. But adrenaline is stronger than pain and he runs like he's in the final stretch of a marathon, eyes still wide and fear still flooding him like a torrent of rain. It's only exciting the devil and he can hear it lumbering after them, slower than before, and he's not even sure where he's going but away when he suddenly hears a horrible chomp like a dog, the splatter of blood on his back.]
[The sound of the dragging footsteps is gone and Aki dares to look back, going completely still at the sight. A fox head with more eys than he can see, surrounded with dust and fog. Hurrying from the midst of that smoke is a man in a black suit, saying something to the massive head before it vanishes into the same smoke, leaving only a sea of foggy clouds and no sign at all of the danger that was just chasing them.]
[Aki stands there panting, still holding Denji in his arms. Pochita is right at his feet, staring up at them both. Like they didn't just witness the most fucked up thing Aki has seen in years.]
What was...
[The words eke out of him quietly, like a creak. The hunter looks their way briefly but, seeing them both with open eyes, chooses to instead check on the other student, hurrying across to examine him where he lays.]
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Then, boom. Air rushes past them, whipping their hair into their eyes, as a snout, a pair of teeth, and many eyes plow through the very systems and organs intended to keep a person alive with a mere close of its jaws. ]
…That?
[ Denji finishes for Aki in a hollow whisper, blood drying his lips. He'd weakly turned in tandem with Aki, a shimmer of awe to his gaze. Hunters can really contract with devils that huge and mighty? ]
T-That was so freaking awesome!
[ It occurs to him, suddenly, that's what Aki's gonna be on some faraway day. A hero belonging on a pedestal to lots people, not just him. He can afford to choose Denji today, but in the future, when he's got devils at his disposal and even more rules to abide by… His choice isn't set in stone.
Denji's grip on Aki's sleeve tightens before he tugs on him. He can let him down now. He's not a baby, and it'd be embarrassing if the whole neighborhood gathered around just to see him being held in such an embarrassing position. ]
I think we're… we're safe. [ They are, but what about… ] Pochita! [ Their companion looks up from licking off blood from his paw. ] Run home. Don't let those guys see ya.
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[Awesome is a word for it. Aki continues staring in total shock, eyes wide and still until Denji tugs at him. He carefully lowers him to the ground to stand, but he keeps his arm around him, holding him in place from habit. He's so liable to run off at the first sign he's got some freedom. Denji tells the devil to run home and Aki quickly shakes his head.] Not yet. There might be other hunters out.
[So long as no one saw Denji using the devil, it should be okay, right...? --God, he doesn't care right now, it's not what matters! Why does he care about a stupid little chainsaw devil?! Denji's the one who actually matters. He turns him to face him and presses his hand to his forehead, against his cheeks, then down to his heart.] Are you okay? Open your mouth up, let me see. [His own hands are still sticky with spots of devil blood but at least they aren't either of their blood. Denji's got his own covering of it and it makes it hard to tell how much of it is his, however.] Come here and sit down for a second, and catch your breath, and - Remember what that doctor said, about doing those breathing things? The in-out-in-out? Do that, got it? [He drags Denji over to the curb to sit him down, for now ignoring Pochita completely. More important things are going on.]
I'm going to talk to that guy - Stay right here, got it? Just breathe slow, and count your breaths, do those things, okay? [Only one doctor has ever looked at Denji for his lung issues and it was nearly five years ago, in the orphanage. Aki has been going off that one visit ever since.]
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Still, he allows him to do what he wants, relishes all of it to a degree. The chance to sit front and center stage in the spotlight of Aki's concern. Perhaps that's why he doesn't put up much of a fight when Aki forces him to sit, only stuttering out, ] A-Alright, [ and then beginning his breathing exercises as instructed. Too fast, at first — it's hard to concentrate, watching Aki walk away, a prick of anxiety pinching at his stomach. Like he's worried that somehow the hunter didn't get all of the zombie, or maybe that there are more zombies where that one came from. Sensing, though, that these thoughts aren't really improving his situation, he attempts to shove them aside.
In-out, that's one. In-out, two. In-in-out-in, uh. Out-out-cut-it-out is what his little mantra deteriorates into, a chiding directed at his dumb heart for not working the way he wants. Damn it.
Pochita runs his tongue against the back of Denji's hand. His nails are grinding into the curb, shredding into uneven edges. Immediately, he releases the tension in his fists. Rewards the good boy with a light pat to the head in thanks.
Once more, he tries to conjure up what that old doc told him those years ago. It had something to do with how when someone drives a car, it's not good to slam on the brakes. You gotta ease your foot down — and to think of breathing in those terms. Denji's never driven a car and probably won't ever have to if he's moving to Tokyo, but as far as he's concerned, this is pretty sound advice. He thinks, at least. Deliberately, he push out his stomach muscles as he inhales, relaxing those same muscles as he steadily breathes a cool current of air out. Repeats that process once, twice, and then a third time. A fourth, for extra measure.
"You okay there?" Deep voice.
Denji's head tilts up. Pretty face.
But then he realizes who he's looking at is a guy, and quickly amends to himself: Ugly face.
Lit cigarette in hand, the hunter squats down in front of him, a trail of smoke hanging in the air above his head like miniature storm clouds. Resisting the urge to give into the cough scratching inside his throat, like a cat batting under the gap of the door, Denji's mouth sets. He darts a look at where Aki is still talking to who he can only presume is this dude's colleague. ]
Um… Been better.
[ Been worse, too, but Denji refrains from sharing that.
The hunter hums, neck rolling, but no sound of a crack ever reaches his ears. "Good. By the by, that weird dog yours?" ]
— My big bro! [ He says at the same time, hoping to disrupt that train of thought. He has no idea what to say next, just keeps looking back at where Aki is, willing him to turn around. Come back. ] He's really worried about me. 'cause of, y'know, what happened. Maybe we should call an ambulance or something to get him off my back —
[ "Easy there, tiger. They're on the way." ]
Oh. Then I gotta tell him. So that he stops, er, annoying me.
[ And with that, Denji begins to stand, a poor attempt at gracefully exiting the uncomfortable exchange, but the sudden altitude doesn't bode well for his lightheadedness. He tips on his feet in an instant, and the hunter's hand appears at his elbow, helping him settle back down, but the expression on Denji's face is far from relieved. ]
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[His classmate is dead. Aki realizes that when he's still a few feet away and sees the hunter placing his jacket over the boy's face, covering the bloodstain dribbling across the concrete. He hesitates before coming over, but the hunter finally spots him and seems relieved - that he's okay, that he's a witness, he doesn't know. Heading over to him from the body of the other boy, he starts asking all sorts of questions. Is he okay, what happened, was anyone else hurt. Where the devil appeared. If there were any other around. Aki stands with his back straight, answering everything he can. All while his eyes dart furtively to his bag, dropped beside the alarm that's finally stopped ringing. His wallet is in there. But he'd have to pass the body to get to it. And why does that feel so cruel?]
[Maybe because it could have been him. Or Denji. Or anyone, really. Wrong place, wrong time. That's what people say about devil victims. When he finally steels himself to get his bag, the hunter asks him suddenly if he knows the kid he was with, if he's okay, too. As Aki passes the body to get his bag, he keeps his head turned to avoid looking at it, avoid thinking about how his whole weight fell into him and gave him the ache in his chest he still has, but by turning around he spots Denji being grabbed. At least, that's what it looks like from his vantage point: The hand on his arm, grabbing him as he stumbles like he's trying to avoid it. The way Denji's pale face seems to flinch in distrust or worry or something, he's too far to see. Aki snatches his bag in a sudden rush to hurry back to him, calling out,] Hey!
[And then Denji is being set down again, lowered against the curb as Pochita presses in close. Aki quickly gets between him and the other hunter, only realizing as he gets closer that's who the man is, that he's not trying to snatch him away, take him somewhere new. Face flushed partially from annoyance, partially from embarrassment at misreading the scene, he squats down to Denji's level and presses his hair back to feel his forehead again, then down to grab his wrist to feel his pulse.] Are you okay? Don't stand up, every time, I have to tell you that -
["We got an ambulance coming," the not-kidnapper hunter tells him as the Fox wielder comes over as well. "Might want to get him - "]
He's okay. [Quickly blurted out as he stands back up, stepping in front of Pochita as he does, trying to block both the devil and Denji from their view.] We live close by. He's just bloody, from that fox head. He'll be okay, once he's cleaned up.
[The two hunters obviously look like they don't believe him, but Aki looks down at Denji expectantly.] Come on. Let's go home. You can ride on my back, come on.
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When Aki takes his temperature, he'll notice his skin is somewhat cool to the touch, yet perspiring all over. Clammy. His pulse, now much slower than the average beats per minute. The other times this has happened, he's gotten better with a few hours spent laying down, a glass of water, and a sports drink. Oh, and potato chips help, too. Yeah, that should do it.
Denji doesn't think this is any different from the norm. So when he hears him suggest they go back, he's too happy to grope a hand out, feeling around for the sturdy back he knows is turned toward him, despite being unable to make out his form.
He slumps forward, arms not even wound entirely around his neck, just hanging from his shoulders like a battered stole. Feeling safe enough to let his eyelids shut. ]
Y… Yeah. Les'go home. Jus' needa nap.
[ The hunter that'd been trying to engage Denji doesn't stop them, but he does insist upon exchanging address and contact information. If they have any follow-up questions, they'll be in touch, to definitely visit with a medical professional if the two of them change their mind, and probably other stuff that devil hunters always say in the TV dramas. His mind is so fatigued, he can't make out the rest, all of it distant and going over his head. He can't tell if Pochita is with them or not, either, but he's choosing to trust that he is. That Aki is keeping him safe.
He only gets this vague sensation he's being lifted up, and that they're trudging slowly somewhere. Home, he hopes. Or just some place warm that's warm, all light. Some place he can sleep for a long time and wake up feeling better. ]
Sorry, Aki. [ Denji's face fits into the narrow passage between Aki's shoulders, some of the blood that'd yet to dry inking his nape. ] 'm sorry you gotta carry me again… You not hurt?
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[Cold skin, drooping eyes, wide pupils. It's the things Aki remembers from before, from other fainting spells Denji has had. It's even more reason for him to want to get out of here as soon as he can. Stripping off his own school jacket, he drapes it around Denji's shoulders as he lets him lean into him, in this moment privately glad that he's a size larger than him, that Denji's small, lithe, and skeletal body is useful in some shitty way like this. He hesitates when the hunters stop him, the desire to get away from this whole scene at once and see Denji perk back up once he has fluids in him hitting head-first with his good-boy personality. Obeying authority. Doing the right thing. He waits, telling them both the address. Declining an offer to be walked there by one of them. Assures them Denji is only faint from fear, that he's dealt with this before. And Aki can help him. Aki can make it better.]
[Once he's up on his back, Pochita barks at him. He glances down. Doesn't understand the look the devil is giving him. "That yours?" one of the hunters asks. Studying him carefully. Aki nods his head once, reaches down to snag Denji's book bag alongside his own. Pochita barks again, leaping up to bite at it, and he realizes it. He's trying to ask to help.]
It's okay, I got it... Just walk. [Truthfully he just doesn't want the devil to drag the bags, possibly damage them and rip them open. He motions for the devil to follow and, for the second time in a week, carefully begins on the way home from an incident where he thought all of this would end in a blink of an eye. Denji on his back, a devil at his feet]
[When Denji mumbles into his back, he hoists him a little higher, as if showing that he's fine, ignoring the pain in his chest.] Don't apologize to me. I can carry you just fine - That's part of my duty. [As his brother, that is. Comes with the territory.] Keep talking. It's better if you don't fall asleep. Look - he's right here, too. Pochita.
[He glances down briefly, the shine from his chainsaw blade still reflecting light despite the blood splatter. He looks away.]
[It's only a couple blocks back to the apartment, but Aki keeps talking to Denji as he walks. Just random things, whatever comes to mind. If he can tell him which day of the week it is, how many more days 'til winter break. Asks him to remind him how that old nursery rhyme goes, about the rolling acorn. About how come they always compared Aki to the loach in the song. And how embarrassing it was that they'd make him cry by singing it at him, way back when. Just - anything, to make sure he doesn't pass out.]
[When he finally has him home and can strip off his bloody clothes and wrap him in a warm blanket, Power springs into action, casting a spell on some ice water before bringing it over to him (she put honey in it, the goo floating on top and unable to dissolve in the cold) while Aki pours an electrolyte drink into a glass. They both sit down around him and encourage him to drink what they've made for him, nearly fighting one another over whose drink is more effective. But even with the argument brewing between them, their eyes barely ever leave him, constantly aware of him, waiting for him to get better. Since he always does, eventually. Always. All while Aki is keenly aware of the devil licking its paws in the corner of the room.]
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But Aki talks to him. Jumps from topic to topic, as if throwing out bait to a housepet that's wandered too far out from its gated yard, and Denji rises to it each time. His answers are weak and unintelligible: It's melon bread day (so Thursday, since that's the only day the school store sells those). They have 10 days until winter break (wrong, they have 21 more days to go). Denji doesn't remember how the nursery rhyme goes, so he choppily hums the melody to reassure Aki that he's still listening, that there's still hope he'll make it back home safe.
The images in his vision start to take shape and sharpen as soon as they're through the door, even more so once his back is relaxed up against his futon, cool and breathable. Power and Aki fuss and feud, but he doesn't have it in him to mind — call it a sight for sore eyes. His throat bobs as he swallows every last drip of their proffered drinks, Power's less enthusiastically because, while the honey is sweet and Denji likes sweet things, the texture of the concoction is goopy and unsettlingly congealed. Regardless, he downs all of it, his chin sticky with the dribble of both, on top of the film of blood still there, but he doesn't bother wiping any of it off; he'll wash his face later.
Right now, he's got something to say. ]
I… think I figured it out.
[ The words crack out of him, slow, like the stretch of egg white drooping when you hold the broken shell half-closed. ]
When somethin' bad happens, y'always… try to make things less bad. Most folks will just mosey away and hand off that kinda chore to some other sucker. But you —
[ You can’t bear it.
Denji only sighs through that part, though, instead of outright saying it. Then, blinking up at the ceiling, he remembers to add: ] That's why you were the loach, I mean.
[ And maybe, Denji can only guess, that's why he always seemed to hate playing the role so much. The duty of it, of having to carry them both on his back until they were ready to grow up. Maybe… ]
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[When he's finally drank everything and seems to have a little more color to his face, Aki dares to step away for just a moment, long enough to get a damp rag and begin the careful process of cleaning off his face of blood and who knows what else. He figures if Denji dozes off now it's okay, since he doesn't seem like he'll actually faint, just sleep from exhaustion. But he'd still like to make sure he's clean, changed, proper, before any of that happens. Folding the rag over to find a cleaner spot, he pauses when Denji starts talking.]
[...In truth, he just never liked the song. He thinks it was one of the songs they sang at that orphanage because all of them had been whisked away from their homes in some fashion, blown by the wind into a lake and ended up crying because they missed the woods. To think of himself as the loach, as someone who had always been without a home to fall from, like he was someone they would play with for a little while without actually solving anything... He remembers being so upset about that. Crying like a child. And being scolded for it by the caretakers, told he should be a better role model. He's older, after all.]
[But, to think Denji might have thought of his role as something permanent after all, a problem solver who, really hasn't solved much... He presses the rag into his forehead and carefully massages at a reddened mark on his skin.]
You can be so stupid, sometimes.
[Most people would say he's always stupid. But Aki knows he has his moments. He's clever in an annoying way. A problem solver, even if his solutions are skewed and Aki can't see his work to understand how he arrived at them. He likes to think Denji wouldn't ignore someone who needed help. That he wouldn't leave it to another sucker. He hopes he's impacted him enough to think about it differently. But it opens at a sore spot in his own logic to be told he's looking out for others, when he knows he's purposefully avoided something major.]
...I don't want to take you to the hospital. Because they might not let us visit you, or share your information with us.
[Being that he isn't Denji's legal guardian and their actual legal guardian is, essentially, the government, he can't bear the thought that something like that would separate them. That Denji might be taken. Again he folds the rag to scrub over his cheek next.]
But you should see a doctor again. At least to see if there's anything we can do here.
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Seriously, a doctor? Get real.
What's the doctor gonna do besides give him some deadly grave look, jot down a few confidential notes, and refer them to a specialist they can't afford? Maybe they'll tell him to exercise more, spend more money to eat a particular type of fish or lean meats this time. Man, he'd rather die than eat a miserable meal, Aki's eyes fixed on him to make sure he finishes every last bite. Worried, like how he looks now, gently wearing away at all the leftover blood still covering him, without any regard to the dirt and splatter still staining his own clothes. Stupid. ]
I just, I dunno. I don't like the doctor, Aki… I'd rather you take care of me — hrk!
[ Without warning, Power wrenches his head into her lap, a loud, yet harmless, pop sounding from his neck. All of a sudden, her fingers are digging into his scalp, kneading painfully into his head. She says something about nurses as buxom as herself potentially administering his care just like this because she knows how simple he is about that stuff, and though he could do without having his head fully pummeled like dough, her unconventional methods sorta work in a way, a flicker of interest catching in his eyes. ]
Alright, I gave it some thought. [ He didn't give it any thought. ] I'll go see the doc — but only if Aki goes, too. [ Denji looks at him, pointedly. ] You got smacked around earlier. We gotta make sure you still have more brain power than Powy and I combined. Someone's gotta.
[ "'Tis too late for him to beat my 1000 IQ! I have a brain and my name is Power!" she laughs, maniacally. Or manically. It's hard to tell with her. ]
…Yeah. See what I mean?
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[Aki definitely doesn't want to have a doctor look at him. He's physically fine, so if they randomly told him there was something wrong with him that wasn't affecting him yet, what good would that do? And sure, his chest still hurts from where the student's body was thrown into him but it'll be gone by morning.]
[But just like how Power tempts him with the idea of being able to ogle the bodies of nurses and doctors in their oh-so-sexy scrubs and lab coats, Aki knows telling him as much won't do anything. Just as he knows ice water and electrolytes aren't going to solve the problem, and that's about the limit to what he's capable of doing.]
Fine, we'll go together.
[Of course he's concerned about Denji being sent to some specialist, but... But maybe if they give him some words he can look up in the library and find some easier solutions for that don't require x-rays and blood tests and all those things, maybe he can figure it out by himself. At least until he graduates and has the money to send him to a fancy doctor who will put him in a machine, spin him around, and totally fix him.]
[Or however that works.]
But for now, you need a bath. Get undressed. [He doesn't trust him in there alone when he's still clearly woozy, so their little bathroom will have to support both of them.] Power, I'll give you some money, so go and pick up dinner from the convenience store.
[Power pretends to think that over, mulling as she rolls her fingers through Denji's hair (this is acupuncture, apparently), then clarifies that she can buy them some fried chicken as she's done medical studies that prove it's good for devil attacks. Aki approves of the idea, and she's on her feet in an instant excited about the idea.]
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Rubbing the back of his head, Denji unsteadily hoists himself upright, a hand snapping out to clasp on to Aki's shoulder to avoid narrowly tipping straight back into the futon. A heavy breath emits from him. So this amount of movement is still hard for him… Well, it's good to know what his limits are. That way, he knows just how much to push and challenge them.
He doesn't bother trying to stand at his full height in this condition; he knows that he'll need Aki's help just to make it to the bathroom without cracking his head open. Once he feels balanced enough to release him, Denji drags his shirt up from the back, then works off the bottoms of his uniform with a few kicks. He doesn't touch his underwear because, uh, the cat and dog pair are staring at him from the foot of the bed, like they're watching a squirrel fidget about on the windowsill. Not that there's really much to study of his reedy frame; whenever he looks himself in the mirror, he barely feels any taller or wider than the patches of horsetail some grandmas in the area grow in their little plant beds. The whole of him, only a fraction of a person.
Anyway, this is about as good as it's gonna get for him. He looks at Aki, both his hands raised toward him, expectantly. ]
Help me up?
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[Fried chicken, only, isn't going to cut it. He's going to need to make something healthier, some greens or maybe some porridge with plenty of healthy broth. Aki is thinking about that as Denji struggles to sit up and nearly misses his toppling, reaching out to grab him at the last second. He holds onto him until he's mostly upright and undressed to his skivvies, reaching for him like a child wanting to go up. Well... He still is that, in a way.]
Come on. [He leans over to lift him up, hoisting him over his shoulder before carefully pulling himself to his feet. He's a little unsteady for a few steps before he gets the weight distribution and can carry Denji the short walk to the bathroom. Plop him down inside on the stool before he can let his fingers dig too hard into the brittle ribs that seem to nearly pop out of his skin. He can hear a soft pochi sound behind himself and looks over his shoulder. The devil, peeking in from the doorway. He sighs and motions the thing in before shutting the door.]
Take your underwear off, too. Here. [He strips his own clothes off as he speaks, a blood-stained pile left on the edge of the door before he helps Denji sit up enough to get the rest of his clothes off. Once they're both nude and Pochita is busy sniffing the pile of laundry, he turns on the showerhead and begins spraying him down, starting at his hair, fingers running through blond locks until he stops seeing a faint pink river fall from his neck.]
You can lean back against me, if you need to. But don't fall asleep yet.
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Between the two of them, they're in for a mess — he can already tell, staring down at how the dirt and blood snake toward the drain, hypnotized. The whole bathroom is probably going to need a good hose down after this, some of the pink speckling out from his hair and onto nearby wall tiles from the force of the spray. Hunched over, hair fanning over his face, that's the way Denji falls asleep for a moment, then jerks back awake when Aki speaks to him, his head bobbing up. ]
H-Hahwhuh? I… wazzun't 'sleep. [ He knows Aki isn't going to believe him. He looks back as he reclines into him, anyway, leaning heavily into one side over the other, as if to say, See? Awake. The strained, half-lidded droop of his eyes isn't really telling the story he believes it is, though.
…A pause. His gaze dips, a hand rising to press into Aki's chest. ] Nothin' feels too broken in there? You're not gonna go to sleep and not wake up, right?
[ There are stories like that on the news sometimes. People who look perfectly fine, dying from internal hemo-something. Hemo-raging? Anyway. ]
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[Aki's gaze goes a little sharp at his question, clearly upset with the phrasing.]
Nothing's going to happen to me. I'm fine.
[Even if his shoulders tensed a little at the prod, his stomach sucking in with brief pain. But it's nothing big, just a bruise that's still in its welting stage, only red and white and not yet hard. In the growing warmth of the bathroom and the flush of his skin, he expects it to all blend in. To draw his attention away, he turns Denji's head back around and tells him,] Sit still. [Then starts massaging shampoo into his scalp, pushing out any remainder of blood that may be hiding in his roots.]
...Don't say something like that. Falling asleep and not waking up. [He can't ignore it well enough. The itch of it still bothering him.] I'm not going anywhere. Some low-grade devil like that isn't enough to hurt me. You know that.
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Still, that guy it threw at you — [ He didn't get the same clear view of him the way Aki did, but there was something weird about how that zombie swung him around, like he was completely weightless, boneless, the guardrails that make someone form the shape of a person insignificant. There wasn't even a grunt from him when he hit Aki. His point should be obvious. ] I'm just sayin'. He even looked taller than you, like the kind that does tons of sports. But he still ended up like that.
[ Unconscious and hurt, he assumes. Denji doesn't know whether he wound up dead or alive, if they scooped him away on a gurney or in a body bag. His head falls forward, hair hanging as beads of soapy water pelt the tiles, dissipating. ]
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[He shouldn't be so aggravated to hear this, but Denji's concerns pick at a scab on him that he's tried to hide. He doesn't want anyone to know he might have even the smallest amount of fear inside of him when dealing with a devil. Doesn't want Denji or Power or anyone else to ever think he might get scared, or even worse - get hurt. No, not just hurt. He can deal with getting hurt, he's gotten into enough scuffles in his life that pain doesn't bother him like that. But Denji voices the real concern of something even worse happening without even realizing it. "Ended up like that."]
I'm not going to die.
[Tense and flat. Unwavering despite how it feels like Denji just tore that scab off in one deft yank, fresh blood flowing from the half-healed wound. He's not going to die. He can't die yet.]
Killing devils and sports aren't the same thing. It's not just about being strong. It's about being smart. Keeping calm.
[He sprays his hair clear, watches the final bits of blood wash into pale streams. When he sets the shower head down, he takes the moment to breathe slow, exhale before he turns back around. Expression steady. Unaffected.]
No devil is ever going to knock me around like that.
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Denji can partly tell that he's not the sole person Aki is speaking to, but he gives a short, weary nod like he is. Not necessarily in agreement, but to indicate he's listening. It's hard imagining Aki dying, not because he can't, but because it's all too easy to visualize. He'd rather pretend he's safe from all that stuff. ]
…You were cool back there, I guess. [ He tilts his head, twisting his hair to strain out the water. He probably needs a haircut. ] Just dunno if I'd call it calm. But it's fine — if anything tries to knock you on your ass again, I'll stop it. I mean, you saw me. I was like, like a superhero out there. I came in like fwoosh — ow, crud, I got something in my eye.
[ Real badass superhero here. Some of the residual suds lightly burns at his eyes, the scrapes adorning his face, and Denji tries to roughly scrub at his face. When that doesn't work, he gropes around for the nozzle, hoping that spraying himself in the face will help. ]
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[...Okay, so maybe he wasn't as calm as he wanted to be, but he's still training, okay? Plus, Denji was in there, and how is he supposed to stay calm if someone he knows is involved? Especially if it was him or Power. There's no way he could play it cool in that situation. ...Not yet, anyway.]
Yeah, a real superhero. [His voice drips with sarcasm at that as he turns the faucet back on and helps him get the soap out of his eyes.] If you ever do something like that again, I really will make you sleep in Meowy's travel crate. That little devil you picked up can hardly cut through a tree trunk, let alone another devil.
[He grabs the washcloth and suds it up in his hands before scrubbing off his back next, the thin stains of blood that seeped through his jacket.] Don't ever do that again. I'm not kidding. I meant it, that I'd take you training with me, but that's just so you can get away when you need to. You can't fight with - [- your body Ugh. No, he won't say that.] ...with that devil. It's not strong enough.
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His shoulder blades rise, bones nearly looking the way an overflowing grocery bag looks, right before the bottom bursts. But then air is going out the same way it came in, frustrated, and battering through his clenched canines. Pochita looks up at them, sensing the shift in his demeanor. ]
Then don't scare me like that, [ he mutters. If he weren't so tired, he'd probably yell it at Aki. Hypocrite. ] I'll do what you want, whatever. Just don't do that. Don't run the other way, without me.
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