Stray Dog

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/41513529.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Chainsaw Man (Manga), Chainsaw Man (Anime)
Relationship: Denji/Mitaka Asa
Character: Denji (Chainsaw Man), Mitaka Asa, Pochita (Chainsaw Man)
Additional Tags: Waiters & Waitresses, Pre-Canon, Bathing/Washing, Angst and
Hurt/Comfort, Idiots in Love, Eventual Happy Ending, Touch-Starved,
Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Homelessness, First Kiss, Heavy
Petting, First Time, falling in love while hiding from the authorities, Denji
Has a Praise Kink, Protective Mitaka Asa, Alternate Universe - Different
First Meeting, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Canon-Typical Violence, Poverty,
Denji Needs a Hug (Chainsaw Man)
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of Times are Changing
Stats: Published: 2022-09-05 Completed: 2023-02-21 Words: 113,555
Chapters: 24/24

Stray Dog
by LadyofBoneandIvory

Summary

Every night, waitress Asa Mitaka gives her leftover food scraps to a local feral teenager
named Denji. Denji doesn’t know what to make of her attention. Asa’s true intentions? To
give him a bath, of course.

An alternate universe that occurs before the events of Chapter 1/Episode 1.

Notes

Hello!

Thank you for reading. Since Asa's introduction, I'm strongly suspecting that Denji and she
will have some sort of romantic connection, for a little while at the very least.

This is a plot bunny to answer the question of "What would've happened if they met prior to
either of their devil contracts?" It is a story in which Asa is perhaps a year less jaded and
melancholic than when we meet her in canon. It is also one where Denji hasn’t met
Makima and experienced the events of Part 1.

Please be aware that this story contains depictions of mutually consenting sixteen-year-old
characters in intimate situations. Nothing overly graphic, but proceed at your own pace.
Best,
Lady

P.S. If you'd like to follow me, here's my tumblr.

 Chapter 1

There’s only one reason that the class president and her cronies would order greasy fries and
grilled onion-covered hamburgers at this dusty diner. That reason would be to spy on her.

Asa could tell by the way they looked at her, sneaking looks over their shoulders with wrinkled
noses and unconcealed sneers, that they were talking about her.

Stop being a self-centered prick, she thought, shame coming to the forefront of her mind. You’re
not that interesting.

She pressed the pen down on the pad harder than she had to to write down the tallied total of three
coffees, toast, and a single hard boiled egg.

None of your classmates even know your name, Asa.

As she tore out a handwritten receipt and handed it to a red-haired female customer sitting in a
booth with her two much older male companions, Asa overheard one of her classmates’ barely
concealed exclamations.

“But her hair! What was she thinking?!”

My hair?

Asa’s hand went up to her braids. She’d attempted twin French braids this morning, a hairstyle to
try to hide her greasy hair. Since…since her parents’ deaths, it’d been difficult to garner enough
energy to wash it. After much trial and error, Asa thought the braids she wore today looked decent
enough to try wearing in public for the first time. Better than her usual low twin ponytails at hiding
her current mental state.

Braids are too ugly, it seems, she supposed. Great. Just peachy.

“Miss Waitress?”

Asa looked over abruptly at her customer. Her customer gazed at Asa with intense eyes. Asa’s
heart dropped into her stomach.

“Yes?”

“My payment.” The woman, who couldn’t be much older than twenty-five or so, spoke in a slow,
even tone. She held the receipt and three crisp thousand yen paper bills pinched between her index
finger and her thumb for Asa to take.

“Oh, right,” Asa said hurriedly, wiping her hands on her apron before taking the receipt and
money. “Thank you.”

Before she could step away, Asa felt her eyes drawn back to the woman’s features. Exceptionally
pretty, though she wore a dull expression. A delicate face, pale skin, small mouth, hooded eyelids,
and light amber irises with odd rings of a reddish darker pigment around the pupil. Mysterious, yet
alluring in an alarmingly odd way.

“...May I help you?” The question from the female customer wasn’t impolite, but it was blunt and
cold. A shiver ran up Asa’s spine.
“My apologies!”

Asa forced herself to look away from the woman and walk over to the register. Asa felt dozens of
eyes glance over to her person as the noisy ding of the register’s drawer sounded as it popped open
for her to count change. Asa felt the blood rush into her features as she put her shoulders back and
corrected her posture from her usual slump, suddenly self-conscious of every fiber of her being.
She hated how red her face got at even the slightest bit of inconvenience. It wasn’t even a pretty
blush like the kind described in romance novels. Her red face looked like an allergic reaction.

Asa sighed as she wrangled the correct number of fifty yen coins out of their container. A brief
look over to her classmates’ booth ushered over an audible shriek, followed by giggles, and
concluded with inaudible whispers.

No use dwelling on it, she tried to reassure herself as she gave a second count of her pretty
customer’s change. They’re stupid and petty. You only have to deal with them for a few more
months.

Her eyes burned a bit, but Asa swallowed her emotions instead and returned to her customer’s
table.

“Here's your change.”

The woman took the coins from Asa, but her odd eyes didn’t leave the waitress’ face.

“Miss,” her eyes flitted down to Asa’s name badge, “Mitaka.”

“Would…would you like some coffee to go?” Asa realized that she’d not refilled any of their mugs
during their entire stay and mentally kicked herself for it.

The woman shook her head. “No, but I do have a question that you may be able to answer.”

“Yes?”

“There is a small red devil that was recently spotted outside of this restaurant. One could mistake it
for a dog if they weren’t looking closely.”

For the first time, Asa could draw her eyes away for just long enough to register that the woman
and her companions were dressed in crisp suits with narrow black ties. Devil Hunters from Public
Safety.

Of course they are. The folks who claim to be there for the public, but aren’t. Asa’s jaw clenched.

“The devil is accompanied by a homeless boy with pale hair. Our source says he wears an
eyepatch.”

The woman blinked just once as she waited for a response.

“I…I’m afraid I can’t help you.”

“Are you sure? This devil and his companion are quite dangerous. Surely you’ve heard something
from a friend or coworker of yours?”

Asa wracked her brain, came up with nothing, and shook her head. “I haven’t.”

“Well…” The woman reached into her pants’ pocket and fished out a business card. She held it out
to Asa between her index and middle fingers. “If that changes, you know where to call me. Right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Correct.” Careful not to make skin contact, Asa took the card from her customer.

The woman gave a grand smile. “I hope to hear from you, Miss Mitaka. Have a good day.”

With that, the woman and her companions left. Asa put the card in her apron pocket and promptly
forgot about it.

After the dinner rush, the diner all but emptied out. By eight o’clock, only one customer remained,
sitting at the counter. With all the tables wiped down and the floor swept, all that remained on
Asa’s to-do list was to approach the customer with a fresh pot of coffee.

She inhaled and exhaled deeply as she grabbed the steaming hot coffee pot from the machine and
approached the customer. For a man in his early fifties or so, he wore his greying hair unusually
long. Combined with his leather jacket, Asa wondered if he was an old rockabilly.

Don’t be awkward. You got this.

“More coffee, sir?”

Asa hated nothing more than asking people questions unprompted. “You must be upfront and
personable! It’s to give customers a genuine American diner experience!” as her boss would say.
More often than not, trying to strike up conversation garnered her nothing but disdain and eye
rolling. The way she had to be a different person for this job was exhausting.

The man looked over at her without a stitch of judgment. He grunted affirmatively and nodded
towards his cream-coloured ceramic mug. Asa obeyed without question.

As Asa poured, she noticed the gnarly scar running from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. An old
gangster, perhaps? The thought made her heart flutter in her chest. She hoped he was retired.

When she was finished, the man grabbed the mug and took a sip of the black coffee. With a head
bob and a loud grunt of approval, the man returned his attention to his newspaper.

Asa hovered for half a minute before concluding that her presence was unwanted and retreating to
the kitchens. By this time in the evening, only the night shift cook haunted the kitchen.

“Still here, Mitaka?” He was cooking two sunny side-up eggs for himself tonight, something to
gobble down before the night owls began showing up at the dinner for their all nighters to study
and work.

“Yes. I have another two hours of my shift.”

“Need the money that badly?”

Asa didn’t answer his inquiry. After…after what happened with her parents, of course she needed
the money. After their funerals and downsizing the apartment, her family’s remaining savings was
barely enough to cover rent for the crappy place she’d found for herself.

“I can give you a loan if you really need it. No interest or nothing, just pay me back in a reasonable
amount of time.”

“...Thanks, Madoka, but I’ll be okay.”

The cook gave her a kind smile as he adjusted his glasses. He was an odd one, Madoka. An
average-looking dad-type for sure, but with two ropey scars running horizontal across his face.
One across his high cheekbone, and the other spanning from his nose to his ear’s tragus. Asa had
always wanted to ask where they came from, but feared it would be a much too inappropriate
question to ask.

The smells of burning toast hit her nostrils. Madoka noticed the black smoke erupting from one of
the toasters.

“Agh, not again.” Madoka retrieved the blackened toast crisps from the contraption and made a
beeline for the overfilled trash can for food waste. He shoved down the food scraps before he
realized it was a fruitless effort.

“Mitaka, would you mind setting the food waste out for collection?”

“...Sure.”

With a sigh, Mitaka yanked the heavy trash bag out of its receptacle, tied a knot at the top, and
slung it over her shoulder.

“Take the walking stick with you to the receptacle, will you?”

“Why?” Asa always felt silly carrying the hand carved walking stick around like a baton.

“Boss says there’ve been some unsavory figures walking around. Better to have it than not to have
it, you know.”

“Fine.” Asa grabbed the walking stick from its customary position and left the kitchen without so
much as a word. She hated trash disposal. It didn’t help that the diner wasn’t located in the safest
part of town. Creeps were more common than they should be, and it was dark. Asa navigated by
moonglow though the backstreets to the neighborhood’s communal food waste dumpster.

Lovely, just lovely.

“Letting your teenage coworker take out your trash, eh, Madoka?” Asa announced scathingly into
the chilly night air. “What a gentleman you’ve proved yourself to be!”

Condensation formed from Asa’s exhaled breath and she suddenly wished she’d taken the five
minutes to pull her knit sweater over her work uniform.

She smelled him first. That pungent stench of teenage boy that plagued the gymnasium at school
during basketball practice, except worse. So much worse. Asa dropped the trash bag and paused to
dry heave with her hands on her knees.

“ What…did something die around here?” Asa exclaimed aloud in a raspy voice. Her eyes watered
as she looked for the source of the smell by moonglow.

Then she heard him. A scuffle, followed by the tear of plastic. She got closer to the receptacle,
which was dimly lit by yellow light from above.

That’s when she saw him. Filthy off white trainers with cream soles and the legs of a pair of holey
and stained jeans sticking out of the mouth of the dumpster.

Just a resourceful homeless person doing what they do to survive, her rational mind said. Her body
thought otherwise. A murderous stranger, it screamed. Despite the cool air surrounding her, Asa
began to sweat.
With as much silence as she could muster, Asa sat down the bag of garbage and readied her
walking stick in her clammy hands. She visually measured the distance between her and the
perpetrator. Twelve to fifteen steps. If she didn’t trip in her attempt to get closer, she had a chance
of winning this fight if it came to it.

“Hey, you!” Her voice cracked nervously on the “you.”

The feet stopped kicking.

“Yeah, you. Get out of there.”

“...No.” The voice was young, but growly.

“Get out!”

“Why?”

“I have trash to throw away!”

“Food trash?”

“I know the appropriate receptacle to put this trash in, thank you very much.”

With one fluid movement, the boy jumped down from the dumpster and stared at her with his head
cocked to the side. With the hiking stick gripped firmly in her hands like a fighting staff, she
observed her opponent as best she could without looking into his face. Shaggy, unkempt, and
greasy hair, blond all the way down to the roots. Natural-looking, as opposed to the bleach blond
she was used to seeing on fashionable people in the streets.

A foreigner?

On his upper half, the stranger wore a much too big lime green coat with a hood. Underneath, an
off-white tank top of ribbed cotton. Both stained. His neck was thin. Asa could see every tensed
muscle and ligament in it.

“So you do have food on ya?”

He started to walk towards her with a nonchalant stride.

“Don’t come near me!” Asa barked, her eyes fixated on his shoes.

He stopped at a respectful distance. Asa stepped sideways, bringing herself and the walking stick
between the boy and her bag of trash.

“Go ahead. You can throw it away now, you know.”

“...Not while you’re here. Leave!”

“Dun wanna.” The boy crossed his arms.

In a flight of uncharacteristic fury, Asa’s eyes flew up to his face. Before she could spit out the
words “look here, you little piece of shit,” she noticed it. The eyepatch. The boy wore a worn black
eyepatch over his right eye.

It’s him. The dangerous one with the devil.

Asa felt sweat bead on her upper lip.

“So? What are you waiting for?”

Was he pouting?

“S’nothing,” Asa mumbled. She was frozen in place.

“So…can I have it?”

“Have what?” Asa desperately tried to center herself. Breathe. Come on. You got to breathe.

“Your trash.”

“You want it? Take it.” Her life wasn’t worth the dignity of throwing away her job’s garbage.

Asa flinched as he stepped closer. He must’ve seen her reaction, for he stopped moving in her
direction.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Asa couldn’t help it. Fat tears of humiliation began rolling down her cheeks.

If I try to move, he’ll hurt me.

She dropped the walking stick and squatted in place, wrapping her arms around her knees as she did
so.

If I get smaller, maybe he won’t hurt me.

The boy walked by her and picked up the trash bag. Asa stayed still as a stone, praying for the boy
to just leave.

“I’m going now.”

Asa didn’t answer.

The boy didn’t make good on his word. Instead, he got a wee bit closer, set the trash down, and
squatted in front of her, watching her reactions with his one good eye. Asa covered her nose—he
was the source of the stench.

“...You throw away food every night?”

Asa nodded.

“Well, I want it. Bring it to me.”

Asa met his good eye. Dark honey brown. He wore a serious expression on his gaunt face. Such a
solemn expression for someone asking for a bag of leftover breakfast scraps and undercooked
hamburger patties.

I…I don’t think he wants anything to do with me.

“What’re you going to do with it?” she asked.

He looked at her incredulously, like if she was an idiot who just asked if the sky was blue.
“Eat it, of course.”

Oh. He’s just hungry. An unwelcome pang of guilt gnawed at her stomach.

“Fine, but only if I get your name.” She could report his name to the red-haired Devil Hunter and
this whole situation would be out of her hands in an instant.

The boy furrowed his brows.

“No name, no trash,” Asa repeated as she brushed her tears away, feeling a little braver. He
couldn’t be any older than she was. He was only a few centimeters taller than she was, and she
probably weighed more than he did by at least five to seven kilos. She could take him in a fight for
at least long enough to run away. Probably.

“Denji,” the boy said through gritted teeth.

“Denji,” Asa repeated. “No surname?”

“‘Sur’-what?” Denji asked, dodging the question put in front of him.

“Your family name. Mine is Mitaka. Mitaka Asa.” Asa stood up and brushed off her apron. Denji
also stood, picking up the trash bag as he did.

“Miss Mitaka, eh?”

Asa hated her last name. It reminded her of school and work, professional settings that she felt
strangled in.

“...Just Asa.”

Denji’s good eye widened.

“Have a problem with it?” Asa asked.

“No!” Denji said loudly, plunging his free hand into his pocket. “Just not expected. That’s all.”

“Well, Denji, if you want my uncontaminated garbage, you have to meet me here at 7:30 tomorrow
night.”

“…Uncontaminated?”

“Clean. Not mixed up with the rest of the trash.”

“I knew that!”

“Starting at 7:30, I’ll wait for you for two minutes. If you don’t show up, I’m taking my trash
elsewhere. Got it?”

“Sure,” Denji responded, shrugging. With that, he turned on his heels and walked into the night,
leaving Asa behind to fend for herself.
 Chapter 2
Chapter Notes

Hello,

Thank you for reading! After the release of chapter 104, I really do think this ship may
get some canon momentum. Yay!

I like most of the non-Makima pairings for Denji, but I find Asa really endearing and
look forward to her development in the manga. In addition to therapy, poor boy really
needs someone to kiss him and call him pretty.

Best,
Lady

The next day, Asa rediscovered the Devil Hunter’s business card. She found it in her apron pocket,
as soon as she tied on the apron for her next shift.

Oh…oh dear. Fuck.

Try as she might, Asa couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Asa went back and forth on what to do as she ran from customer to customer, taking orders and
filling coffee mugs. The business card burned a metaphorical hole in her pocket.

On one hand, devils were evil things that deserved nothing else but to die. Anyone could tell you
that.

Their companions, though?

Denji’s appearance flashed through her mind as she stood in the women’s bathroom stall mid-shift
with the business card in one hand and the diner's communal brick of a cell phone in the other.
Frail frame, sharp cheekbones, and one honey-coloured eye with a deep eye bag. Hungry and sleep
deprived.

A young teenager who resorted to pulling food scraps out of the bin to survive didn’t deserve to be
possibly killed by Devil Hunters. If…if an innocent person got killed by them because of her
actions…Asa knew the regret would remain on her conscience for years to come.

With a lump of guilt in her throat, Asa ripped up the business card into tiny pieces. She disposed of
the torn shreds into the sanitary napkin receptacle.

At 7:10, after Asa wiped down all of the tables and swept the floor after the early dinner crowd, she
hurried to the kitchen.

“Do you have the food scraps ready for disposal tonight?”

“I do,” Madoka said, looking up from his hashbrowns. Asa wondered if Madoka ate anything
besides American breakfast foods.
“I’ll take it out,” Asa said matter of factly, going to pull the trash bag out of the bin.

“Mitaka, you don’t have to. I feel bad asking you to do it last night when it was my chore to do.”

“No, I don’t mind. Getting some night air clears my mind up.” She tied the bag closed with a tight
knot and swung it over her shoulder.

“...Okay, whatever you say,” Madoka said with a hint of skepticism. He knew Asa hated rubbish
disposal, but he’d never get in her way of a strong conviction.

True to her word, Asa arrived at the food scrap disposal dumpster at precisely 7:30. This evening,
she had only a half full trash bag. Based on the smell, the contents mostly consisted of a cursed
mix of burnt bacon and under-flavoured mac and cheese.

True to his word, Denji and his stench were already waiting for her in front of the food waste
dumpster. He was squatting, leaning with his back against the dumpster as he did so. Upon seeing
Asa step into the yellow halo of light encircling the waste disposal area, Denji’s jaw dropped in
shock as he stood up abruptly.

“Yo. Here.” Asa held the tied up trash in front of her, the tie strings dangling from her fingers. In
her other hand, she held the walking stick behind her back. As pathetic as Denji was, she still
didn’t quite trust him.

Denji didn’t move.

“You came?” he said, almost more to himself than to her. His eye shifted over to her presence, and
Asa noted that his visible eye bag was even more pronounced than it had been last night.

“Uh, sorry?”

“Nevermind.” Denji shoved both hands in the pockets of his coat.

“I’m not a liar, if you were thinking for some reason I was.”

Denji didn’t respond to that accusation, instead choosing to look down at the ground.

Asa stood there for a few moments with the trash bag in hand before she sat the trash bag on the
ground. She waited for Denji to approach her like he did last night. Instead, he made no effort to
inch closer.

“You alone?” Asa asked.

“Why do you want to know?” Denji countered suspiciously.

“Just curious.”

“Hmph.”

“You can take the trash, you know.”

“...Nah. Leave it and I’ll pick it up later.”

“Then how do I know you’re not going to waste my precious gift?” Asa couldn’t help the scathing
remark from tumbling from her lips. When she was nervous, she sometimes used sarcasm as a
shield.
Denji’s emotions went from what Asa interpreted as quiet shock to panic, for he made a show of
hurrying over to the trash bag.

“Well, I’m not a liar either!”

With the energy of a wild raccoon, Denji ripped a hole into the side of the bag and stuck his hand
inside. He drew out a handful of what could only be described as cheesy goop and shoved it in his
mouth. He chewed with his mouth open and swallowed loudly.

“See? Not ‘wasting’ it!” Denji bellowed. Streaks of yellow cheese sauce covered his cheeks.

Asa could help but crack a baffled, sarcastic smile.

“What?” He spoke in a defensive tone.

“Got some stuff on your face there,” she said, “and here,” pointing to where the cheese sauce
streaks were on Denji’s face on her own cheeks.

Denji mirrored her movements and wiped off the offending smears using the sleeve of his coat. His
eyes dropped again to his feet as he went to tie a lower knot around the garbage bag to seal the
contents shut.

“What’re you gonna do with the rest of it?”

“...Eat it. Duh.”

“I know that. Are you eating it all by yourself?”

“...None of your business.”

He glanced up once, to take note of the walking stick in her hand.

“You don’t have to bring that. I wouldn’t punch a girl. Especially one like you.” He added the last
sentence in a rush under his breath, almost too quickly for Asa to understand.

“Oh…okay.”

“Yeah. Well, ‘night.”

Denji disappeared again into the darkness, leaving Asa alone with her walking stick.

Asa didn’t bring the communal walking stick the next evening, or the evening after that one. Denji
didn’t seem to notice. He didn’t seem to care, really, if she brought the stick or not.

He was like a poorly socialized and promptly abandoned pet, Asa observed. He was always
waiting for her, feigning disinterest until she set the food down on the ground. Once the food was
out of her hands, he sprung upon it and scurried away without so much as a word. She wondered
how long he had been this way.

Everyone has parents at some point, right?

Asa permitted these hijinks for four nights before deciding she had enough.

I’m gonna make him talk tonight, whether he likes it or not, Asa decided as she scribbled down her
customer’s order of a chocolate chip waffle and a side of bacon.

There was only one issue: she had no idea how to accomplish this. She pondered over one idea
after another. Nothing came to her for the next several hours of work—Asa simply didn’t know
enough about this weird kid.

He’s dirty, he owns a small red dog-like devil as a pet, and he wouldn’t hurt a girl. Great. Tons of
information to work with, she thought with dismay. As a force of habit, she patted down her hairdo
to make sure there weren’t too many stray strands out of place. She tried space buns today to hide
the greasiness, but the thinness of her hair kept her from looking cute. Who was she fooling,
though? With her sunken eyes and sour face, she’d never be as cute as Usagi from Sailor Moon. At
least her classmates weren’t there to poke fun of her this time.

“Mitaka?”

Asa jumped at the sound of her boss’ voice, almost spilling the coffee pot she held in her hand.

“Mr. Furuno! How may I help you?”

Furuno was a tall man with a high forehead, skinny nose, and the worst buzz cut she had ever had
the pleasure of seeing up close. Despite his terrible haircut, he was a reasonably fashionable man,
dressing himself in nothing but Ametora clothing. Today, he paired trainers with a flannel button-
up, a jean jacket, and charcoal grey slacks.

“Could you do me a huge favor?”

“Yes?”

“The flowers we put out last Friday on all the tables. We need to remove them. I received a
complaint today—apparently we have a regular customer who is quite allergic.” Furuno confessed
as he wrung his hands.

“Ah, okay. I’ll do it shortly.”

“Thank you, Mitaka. You’re a lifesaver.”

With regret, Asa cleared the little clear glass vases filled with flowers from all of the tables in the
diner. It had been her idea, to bring some new color to the garish silver chrome and red-themed
diner. An idea that she struggled to voice, and was so proud of herself when she finally did it and
was supported by Furuno. She’d put a lot of work into those little bouquets just last week,
arranging them to be a cute little surprise for restaurant patrons to admire over their orange juice
and sausage biscuits. Her mom, a rather famous floriculturalist from Kyoto, would’ve been proud
of her arrangements.

Asa was happy she kept the plastic sleeve that the original bouquet came in, having thoughtlessly
stashed it away in her work locker, but she felt like crying as she put the flowers back in the sleeve.
Asa left the bundle in the kitchen so that she wouldn’t forget to take them out with the trash that
evening.

That evening, Denji’s eye lingered on the wilting bouquet in her left hand rather than on the trash
bag full of pineapple rinds, strawberry tops, and gobs of cold cheese grits in her right.

“What’re those?”
“Old flowers from work.”

“Oh. What’re you gonna do with them?”

“Throw them away, of course.”

Denji said nothing. He just stood there, fingering the sleeve of his coat while his eye was
transfixed on the bouquet.

“Why’d you ask?”

“...No reason.”

Asa gave a skeptical grimace. “You wouldn’t have mentioned them if you had no reason to ask
about them.”

“Whatever.” Denji folded his arms across his chest.

“...You want them?”

“No.”

“Looks like you do.”

“Well, I don’t.”

“I’ll give them to you.”

“Throw them away, for all I care.”

Asa took a moment to look down into the bouquet. “If you’re curious about what kinds of flowers
they are, I see…orange lilies, daisies, pale pink and red cosmos, and bright pink carnations.
Carnations are my favorite, personally.”

Asa paused, waiting for Denji to say something. His good eye didn’t stray from the flowers. With
an internal shrug, Asa continued talking. She was never this chatty. It was hard to keep up the
demeanor, but she was determined to get something substantial out of this kid.

“They’re all pretty flowers, for sure. Still quite fresh too. If my apartment had any kind of decent
natural light, I’d take them home myself. So?”

“So what?”

“Will you take them off my hands?”

Denji gave Asa a flabbergasted expression. “Flowers are for boys to give to girls, not the other way
around.”

“No they aren’t. Boys can receive flowers too. My mother brought home flowers for my father all
the time.”

“...You’re lying. Trying to make me look like a wimp.”

Asa felt her face grow hot. Damn her red face.

“I’m not lying.”

Denji gave a little noise of disbelief.

“And that’s what I get for trying to be nice,” Asa seethed. “Into the dumpster they go.”

Asa made a beeline for the dumpster, winding back her arm to throw them into the receptacle with
as much violence as she could muster.

“Wait!”

Before she could throw them in, something grabbed at the bouquet. A hand enclosed itself around
the wrapped flower stems, its handhold above hers.

Asa turned to find Denji (and his stench) at her side, closer than ever.

“I changed my mind.”

“In what way?”

In front of her very eyes, Denji blushed a beautiful rose pink, precisely the kind of flush described
in romance novels and illustrated in the sugary comics for teenage girls. The color even traveled all
the way up his neck and into the tips of his ears.

Like Marco Pagot at the end of Porco Rosso, when he realizes that Gina was in love with him all
that time.

“I want your flowers.”

Denji averted his eyes in embarrassment, but didn’t back away or let go of the bouquet.

Asa looked at Denji closely for a second time, letting herself memorize his features. Yup. There
was no denying it. Underneath all the dirt, grime, and stench, Denji was a…not ugly teenage boy
who wanted her gift. An…unexpected development, to say the least.

He’s…kinda cute.

Asa balked at the thought. Denji swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

Am I going crazy?

Denji opened his mouth, hesitating before trying one more time. “Please, Asa?”

Saying her name out loud made his face turn two shades of pink darker.

Asa stared at him with what must have been utter bewilderment, for his face hardened again and
the color began to fade.

“Forget I said anything,” he grumbled.

Before he could turn away, Asa shoved the flowers into his arms. Denji fumbled with the bouquet,
nearly dropping them before he secured an iron grip on it. He hugged them to his chest with an
intensity and conviction that Asa had never seen before in a boy her age.

It finally clicked. She couldn’t let this boy continue eating out of the dumpster.

With an assertiveness that Asa didn’t know she possessed, she grabbed the front of his coat and
held on tight so that he couldn’t run away.
“Listen here. I’m only going to say this once. Tomorrow at 7:30, you’re going to meet me behind
the diner, yeah?” She spoke in a low voice, just loud enough for Denji to hear.

“A diner…?” Denji had enough wits about him to match her volume level.

“Yeah, the one next to the Starbucks.”

“Oh…the gross one.”

“Yep. You’re going to meet me at the ‘gross’ diner, and then we’re going to go back to my place.
There, I am going to scrub you clean to within an inch of your life.”

Asa could feel his heart pound through her knuckles against his chest from where she grabbed the
front of his coat. He still couldn’t make eye contact with her, instead looking down into the
bouquet.

“I’ll even feed you dinner—a real dinner—and wash your clothing. If you prove to me that you
can behave yourself, I’ll let you sleep on my futon for a few days too. How does that sound?”

“Sounds like a trap,” he murmured.

“Well, it isn’t. I’m giving you this extraordinary offer because Devil Hunters are trying to locate
you and your little devil friend.”

Denji froze.

“You two stick out like a sore thumb. Both of you have to lay low for a while. If you don’t, you’ll
be caught sooner rather than later.” Asa hesitated, seeing if he would react negatively in any
manner. When he didn’t, she continued, saying, “If you come with me, I’ll do everything in my
power to protect you from them. Both you…and your devil,” Asa added, sighing. She hated devils,
but something in her gut told her that if she didn’t invite this particular devil along, Denji would
immediately refuse her offer.

Asa watched Denji intently as the wheels turned in his brain. She prepared herself for the rejection.

Asa wasn’t stupid. She knew that it was a feeble promise. She was just a teenage waitress with no
money, no prospects, and very little power to claim as her own. If any Devil Hunters were to come
knocking at her door, there’d be nothing to stop them from taking him and the devil away from her.

Still. There was one thing that Asa couldn’t deny about herself. She couldn’t ignore a stray dog in
need of help.

“What’s the catch?”

“Nothing, except that you have to take a bath.”

Denji inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly before answering her.

“Okay, but what’s for dinner?”

Asa blinked in surprise. She wasn’t expecting this reaction.

“Ramen? Udon? Stir fry? I can make a couple of dishes without much issue.”

“Udon. I want udon.”

“Okay, udon it is then. Deal.”

“Good.”

“Well then,” Asa said haltingly as she dropped the trash bag beside him. “See you tomorrow. Don’t
be late.”

With that, she broke out into a sprint back to the diner.

What on earth were you thinking, Mitaka Asa?

 Chapter 3
Chapter Notes

Hello!

I really enjoy some ~angsty bathing~ in my fan fiction. As a result, this fic will contain
some story elements similar to Chapter 71, which contains one of my favorite
character-building sequences in Chainsaw Man. Just putting that out there!

Thank you for reading so far!

Best,
Lady

Mitaka Asa never prided herself on her hosting abilities. That being said, she couldn’t let Denji, her
first guest ever in her new-ish apartment, see the mess resulting from her most recent depressive
episode. She had to make sure he was taken care of during his stay there.

After her shift ended that evening, Asa took a trip to the nearest convenience store.

Bananas? Check.

A travel sized-container of dish soap? Check.

Two bowls of instant udon noodle soup? Check.

Toothbrush? Check.

Toothpaste? Check.

Toenail clippers? Check.

A new loofa sponge? Check.

Two pairs of charcoal men’s socks? Check.

Three pairs of men’s underwear? Check.

Asa hesitated in front of the shampoo, body wash, and conditioner display. On one hand, the only
soaps she had at home smelled of flowers. On the other hand, buying Denji his own soap would be
too expensive on her meager budget, stretched as it was already. Asa carried around a pine-scented
bottle of shampoo for a while around the store, but ultimately put it back before she got in line for
checkout.

The young woman behind the register was short and reminded Asa of a rabbit. Two red hair clips
held back her bangs. Asa noticed how the cashier’s left eyebrow raised at the men’s underwear in
her basket.

Asa couldn’t help it.

“My boyfriend,” she blurted out as she self-consciously corrected her posture. “Stuff for my
boyfriend.”

Asa didn’t know if saying the lie out loud made the situation better or worse, but the girl ducked
her head meekly and began scanning Asa’s items at lightning speed.

Asa took the fastest route back to her apartment complex on her crappy moped. She then spent the
next three hours whipping her apartment back into presentable shape.

The next day, school was a slog. Sitting day in and day out at her desk in the back was a familiar
monotonous routine of nothing, but the anticipation of bringing Denji home with her kept Asa
going that day. She may or may not have sped her moped to be early for her afternoon shift.

Wednesdays were always slow days without many customers. As a result, the first few hours of her
shift were uneventful. That is, until approximately six o’clock.

“Miss Waitress?” Asa looked up from the register where she was tallying receipts. Their old
rockabilly or hopefully retired gangster had been sitting at his usual place at the counter for about
an hour now, doing nothing but nursing a cup of joe. His food sat untouched in front of him. He
stirred his customary black coffee with a wooden stirring stick before uncharacteristically pouring
a large amount of sugar from the retro sugar container in front of him.

“Yes?”

“Come over here for a moment. I have a question about my food.”

The man tapped a stack of unfolded copy printer paper right beside his scrambled eggs served over
a toasted English muffin. Asa looked over and read the message written on the top sheet in black
pen.

Do not say anything out loud about what’s written down here. Overheard your conversation last
night. Trailing the boy and the devil for surveillance reasons. You’re lucky I was alone.

“The English muffin. Did you put butter on it?”

“N…no, sir. I think we use margarine.”

The man took the first page off the top of the stack and shuffled it to the back. He tapped the
second page.

You want to help the boy? Hide him and the devil for a week. Don’t let him be seen. Will give me
enough time to get my boss off of his back for a while.

“That figures. May I get a new English muffin toasted with butter?”

Thoughts swirled through Asa’s mind. Who was this man? Asa glanced at her customer’s clothing.
He was dressed in a nondescript manner today. Just a standard salaryman business suit. Still, with
that gnarly scar? There was no doubt about it. He couldn’t be anything else other than a Devil
Hunter.

The man shifted to the third page and tapped it a little harder than the second one.

If you don’t, the boy will die.

“Sure. Would you like some jelly or jam with it too?”

Asa pulled out her receipt pad and scribbled down some benign-looking notes. When she looked
down at it, she couldn’t make heads or tails of the characters she was attempting to write with such
shaky hands.

The man switched to the fourth page.

When you meet him this evening, do not speak a word to him until you are safely within your
own apartment. If you have a pet, get rid of it or don’t bother bringing the boy home at all.

“What sort of jelly do you have?”

The man turned to the fifth page.

Got it?

“Strawberry, blackberry, or grape.” Asa nodded in reference to the note. The man seemed to make
the connection, for he shrugged.

The man turned to the final page.

You can renege on your deal. Not too late to back out. Think about it carefully.

“Strawberry, if you have it.”

“Got it.” Asa reached for his plate to take back to the kitchens. Unfortunately for their guest, Asa
wasn’t about to back down despite being more or less scared out of her wits. Afterall, if she really
thought about it, what did she realistically have to lose? She was a coward, but she was a stubborn
coward who prioritized other people that she had some sort of fondness towards over herself. It
was a integral trait of hers, whether she liked it or not.

“You’re leaving early, Mitaka?” Furuno asked with a pile of dirty dishrags in his arms. It was hard
to hire help these days, so her boss had to help out on occasion, one of those occasions being
tonight.

“My aunt needs some help with my cousins this evening. Asked me to watch them.” Asa rolled up
her apron and shrugged on her sweater. A glance at her digital watch showed 7:27PM. Three
minutes.

“I…I see.” Furuno held out his hand for Asa’s dirty apron, which she gladly gave him to add to the
mounting pile of laundry. “I’ll see you tomorrow afternoon, though?”

“Yes. Good night.” Asa pulled on her smoky grey knit cap and tan leather riding gloves, threw her
book bag over her shoulder, and hurried out of the kitchens.

As soon as she stepped out the backdoor, Asa looked about the narrow alleyway as her eyesight
adjusted to the relative darkness that comes with twilight. There he was, sitting on the discarded
rusty shopping cart situated a ways away from the back entrance of the diner. His attention was
focused on a backpack squeezed between his thighs.

“Do not speak a word to him.” The Devil Hunter’s command rolled about in her brain like a
marble.
What did she do to get his attention? She whistled, of course. A full-on, loud cab whistle. It
worked, thankfully enough, but she felt her face grow hot.

“A—”

“Shh!” Asa put a finger to her lips and beckoned him over with her other hand. Denji obeyed with a
widened eye, threading both arms through the backpack straps as he did so.

Asa studied him for a moment.

The hair.

That dark blond hair. If anything were to give his identity away on the journey to her apartment, it
was the hair. Asa groaned internally. She didn’t want to do it, but she had to. Asa yanked her kit
cap off and put it over Denji’s head, pulling it low enough to cover his hair in its entirety.

Denji looked as if he’d been stunned, but he didn’t remove it.

She hadn’t thought this through either, the business of how to get Denji on the moped. She sighed,
knowing that the frustration was clear on her face.

She couldn’t just start walking. Denji might spook and not follow her.

Would his hand or his coat be cleaner? She didn’t want to directly touch his coat with her overly
expensive gloves. Who knows what kind of germs lived on that thing. She didn’t want flesh eating
bacteria to eat the most expensive piece of her wardrobe.

She had to choose the other option, then.

Asa held out her hand.

Confusion spread over Denji’s face.

Asa made a “hmph!” noise, nodded emphatically towards his arm, and reiterated her point with a
grabby motion of opening and closing her upturned hand repeatedly.

Denji looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

Asa exhaled loudly and took his limp and bare left hand in her gloved one. She could feel how cold
his fingers were through the thin leather. Asa squeezed his hand once before leading him through
the maze of alleyways to where she parked moped on the side of the road. It was a barely street
legal little thing in sore need of a paint job, but it did what she needed it to.

She hopped on it, scooted as far up as she could, and patted the peeling faux leather seat behind
her.

Come on, you stinky and skinny thing, she thought exasperatedly. They didn’t have a moment to
lose. She looked up and down the street, praying that no one was watching them.

Denji pointed to himself. Asa nodded exaggeratedly and brought her hand down on the seat behind
her with a loud thump.

Denji got the message.

Finally.
He climbed on behind her, but didn’t put his arms around her. She didn’t go through all this trouble
for him to fall off the moped and injure himself.

Asa grabbed one of Denji’s arms and manually wrapped it around her waist before he caught onto
her modus operandi. As he locked both arms around her in a firm embrace, Asa inserted the keys
and turned the engine on. When the moped sputtered to life, she wasted no time putting the vehicle
into drive and speeding off.

As soon as they arrived at her shady apartment complex, Asa ran as fast as she could to her
apartment on the second floor, dragging Denji behind her by the hand as she did so. Once the door
was unlocked, Asa pulled Denji inside and immediately locked the door behind him. Asa, in her
adrenaline-fueled panic, ensured that the knob lock, the dead bolt, and the chain lock were all
firmly in place. She couldn’t resist looking through the door peephole to reassure herself that they
were alone.

Denji stood there beside her awkwardly. He looked just about as nervous as Asa felt.

Asa tried to smile at Denji, but all she could offer was a crumpled grimace of lips, gums and teeth
while the adrenaline drained out of her system.

“Hey,” she began as she pulled off her gloves.

“Hello.” Denji responded in an oddly rather meek tone.

“We did it, I guess.” Asa threw the gloves down on the desk she kept by the door.

“Did what?”

“Got to my apartment without anyone following us.”

“…I hope that’s the case.”

“Sorry about the weird ‘no talking’ thing. I was playing it extra safe.”

“That’s okay. Uh…here’s your hat back.” Denji took off her knit cap and handed it to Asa. She
wanted to wash it immediately, but she swallowed down a biting comment about needing to do it
now. That would be rude to her guest.

”Thank you.”

Asa looked down at Denji’s shoes. Six steps into her apartment and he’d already managed to track
in dried mud.

Great.

“Shoes off, please. If you don’t mind.”

“Oh, yeah. Okay.”

Denji kneeled down to remove his shoes. In doing so, he revealed brown and crusty socks that
should’ve been bright white.

“Socks too.”

“Right.”
With the care of a grade schooler, he tucked his socks into his shoes and placed the pair neatly by
the door. A glance at his feet reassured Asa that buying more expensive heavy duty toenail clippers
was the right decision.

In an attempt to make him feel more at ease, Asa removed her socks and shoes as well. In what she
hoped he’d interpret as a show of solidarity, she copied his technique and placed her work sneakers
beside his. She noticed how his eye lingered on this gesture of hers.

“Well,” Asa said as went to hang her bookbag on its usual hook, “it’s time for you to show me
what you brought.”

Denji hesitated as he pulled the backpack off. Asa noticed how his grip tightened on the
backpack’s top handle-like strap.

“You can’t bring things like a box cutter and duct tape into my home, you know.”

“Hah? Why?”

“To hurt me.”

“I said I would never do that,” Denji grumbled.

“I know, but I don’t know you at all, really. I’m taking a big risk here, inviting you into my
apartment. In doing that, I’m deciding to trust you.”

“You…you have a point,” Denji muttered, setting down his backpack on the floor.

Lovely, more dirt to clean up.

Asa resisted her urge to grab a towel and begin manically scrubbing at the floor. There was a lot
more dirt to come before she could even think about cleaning it up.

“Girls have to think about those things, you know. I wish we didn’t, but we do.”

“...Yeah. I wish you didn’t have to either,” Denji responded quietly. He located the zipper and
opened the main compartment of the backpack.

“Come on. Get out,” he said, addressing whatever lay in wait inside.

Denji pulled the pocket’s opening wider and a low growl emanated from the bag.

“Don’t be a baby.”

The thing inside barked.

“Look, she’s our friend. Behave yourself.”

The growling stopped. It was followed by a crying noise, similar to one a dog would make.

“If you’re not coming out by yourself, I’m getting you out myself.”

The crying got louder and more hysterical.

“Last chance.”

Denji reached into the backpack and pulled out a small crying red thing. As he held it in his arms
like a cat, it decided to bury its face into his armpit.

“Ah! Ow, ow, ow.” Denji extracted the thing from under his arm, fixed his handholds on it, and
hugged it to his chest.

It was a devil, alright. A devil approximately the size of a corgi. For once, a devil that wasn’t an
eldritch abomination or a blob with too many eyes. It had two eyes, one mouth, four legs, and a
squat little body. Minus its strange nose, it really wasn’t too odd-looking. Almost cute. Asa still
didn’t trust it.

Asa said the first thing that popped into her mind.

“He looks like a Makita brand chainsaw with legs!”

“That’s where he gets his name from. This…this is Pochita.”

“Pochita,” Asa repeated. She felt gooseflesh develop on her arms.

“He’s very clean and he minds his manners. He’ll be a better houseguest than I am.”

“Well, that’s good to hear. Nice to meet you, Pochita.”

Denji put the devil on the ground and Asa squatted down like how one would greet a pet, but
Pochita didn’t dare approach her. Instead, he ignored her presence and went to hide behind Denji’s
legs.

Asa stood back up as she broke the silence.

“Well, before we do anything else, let’s get you cleaned up, I suppose?”

“…Sure.”

Nice and warm. Not hot enough to burn, but hot enough to stay at a pleasant temperature for an
extended period of time. Just how Asa liked it.

“The water’s at a good temperature, and…it looks like everything’s here. Shampoo, conditioner,
body wash, a bar of soap, washcloths, full-sized towels, and a brand new loofa sponge,” Asa
recited, touching each item as she addressed it. “Plenty of options for you to choose from. Well…
I’ll leave you to it, then. I’ll be completing some homework at the chabudai while you wash. When
you’re done, put on the bathrobe and call for me. I’ll then get some clothes for you to borrow
while I wash your stuff. Sounds good?”

Asa didn’t like the prospect of Denji wearing her father’s old clothing, but she had no other option.

Denji didn’t seem to be listening, choosing instead to open the cabinet and peer inside to her
mighty assortment of tampons and menstrual products.

“Hey, earth to Denji. You there?” The sarcasm slipped out and she cringed at it internally.

“Yeah, sorry, I was listening. Sounds good.”

“…You seem preoccupied. What’re you thinking about?”

“Just thinking about how nice your place is, I guess.” Denji shut the cabinet with shame.
In truth, “crappy” probably wasn’t the best description of her apartment. She’d initially looked at
the barest of apartments, the ones that were made up of a single tatami room with no utilities
whatsoever. They were the best for her budget, but Asa’s vanity got in the way. She had to have
her own washroom. Asa couldn’t stand the thought of having to take biweekly outings to the local
communal bathhouse, where she’d have to share her private washing time with all of the
neighborhood’s old ladies. Besides, she hated wearing nothing but flip flops. Ugh. If she had to get
naked, she wanted to be all the way naked on her own terms.

As a result, Asa found the cheapest apartment she could find with an attached bathroom. It was the
tiniest washroom she’d ever seen. The toilet sat to your right, the high walled plastic bathtub sat to
your left, and the sink and mirror were crammed in the middle. The showerhead was nothing but an
attachment from the sink to the bathtub. A couple of pathetic shelves decorated the dingy tan tiled
room, but they were nearly useless. She had to keep most of her non-essential toiletries under her
kitchenette sink.

“Uh, I’m glad you think so? Well, again, when you’re done, just call for me. Bye.”

With that, Asa awkwardly left the wash room and closed the door behind her.

It couldn’t have been more than five minutes. She’d just finished laying out her notes when the
characteristic sound of sloshing water resulting from someone standing up abruptly in the tub
reached her ears. The door to the washingroom in the hall opened loudly and was followed by the
sounds of noisy footsteps.

Denji, wearing nothing but his eyepatch, reappeared in the doorway. Pochita followed his master
close behind, with what Asa interpreted as concern etched onto his little devil features.

Denji’d forgotten about the bathrobe, choosing instead to hold a bath towel in front of him in a
futile attempt to preserve his modesty. Asa didn’t particularly care about such a detail. Her eyes
went instead to the streaks of wet grime running down his bare arms. He’d barely scrubbed his
arms, let alone the rest of his body.

“Hey.”

“Uh, hello.” Denji spoke in a stilted manner. Something was amiss.

“You’re…you’re not finished bathing, are you?”

“Um, I guess not,” he gasped between heavy breaths. His visible eye was wide and his pupil darted
about frantically over her face.

“Did I forget to get you something?”

“...No.”

“Did…did you see a bug? Do I need to squish it?” Growing up, Asa was the go-to insect
exterminator of both her immediate and extended family. What an odd memory to make one’s
heart ache.

Denji shook his head.

“…Want to tell me why you’re out here?”

“Not…not really?”

“Oh, okay. That’s fine.”

“No, uh,” Denji fumbled with the towel, unfolding it to tie it around his waist. Asa politely kept
her eyes to his neck and face. “That’s not what I mean.”

“What do you mean, then?”

“I mean…” Denji spoke the rest of the sentence under his breath, too quiet for Asa to hear.

“I didn’t catch that.”

“I mean…I kinda panicked, okay?! Thought maybe you were going to slip out the door while I’m
in the bathtub. Thoughts started racing through my mind. I thought…I thought maybe you’re in
cahoots with the gang. That you’re a part of a plot to catch me slipping now that I’m a week
behind on payments. You’re using ‘Devil Hunters’ as a cover story, aren’t you?”

“A gang’s after you? What gang?”

“There’s a gang that requires me to pay off my dead father’s gambling debts, alright?” Denji nearly
shouted this last sentence. He flushed out of embarrassment, the deep rose pink colouring his
cheeks.

“Denji…I have no idea what you’re talking about. In terms of my offer, I came up with it all by
myself.”

“I don’t know if I believe you.”

“Believe what you want, then. You’re free to leave at any time, just give me the word and I’ll
unlock the door.”

Denji just stood there, breathing heavily. Asa could see his pulse throb rapidly in the side of his
neck. He was just that thin.

Debt bondage. This boy’s in debt bondage, at least one of his parents is dead, and he’s
terrified. She’d be terrified too in that situation. Asa knew she had to relent and back off of the
subject immediately. It wouldn’t do her any good to try to alleviate his valid fears…but she
couldn’t leave the conversation like this.

“…Here, let me at least prove to you that I am who I say that I am.”

Asa stood and went to her bookbag to retrieve her wallet. Denji followed her closely. She opened
the clasp and pulled out a stack of cards. She walked back to the table and sat back down. Denji sat
down beside her on the adjacent cushion.

“My health insurance card. My driver’s license. My student ID. And…” Asa paused and reached
behind to the bookshelf behind her to grab it, “my passport. See?”

Asa lined up the photos present on each piece of identification. “All me.”

Denji’s eye lingered on her passport photo and her student ID. The passport image was taken
several years ago, before the weight of life and mortality crushed her into ugly bits. She actually
looked like a teenager then, not whatever dried up husk she was of a human being now. The
student photo ID portrayed her accurately—after all, it was taken two months after her parents
passed.

“Happy?” Asa asked.

“I guess.” Denji responded dully.

“Well, is there anything else I can do to make you more comfortable?”

“Uh…s’nothing.”

“You’re lying.”

“Am not!”

“Yes, you are.”

“Am not. ”

“You can tell me the truth. I won’t judge you, okay?”

“Fine.” The endearing blush that Asa could tell was going to become a problem was back in full
swing. “Could…could you join me in the washroom? I want to keep my eyes on you.”
 Chapter 4
Chapter Notes

Hello,

For someone as neglected and attention-starved as Denji is in canon, I will die on the
hill that he has a severe praise kink when the words are from someone he trusts. Poor
kiddo.

I should mention most of this fic was conceived prior to Chapter 105. Asa’s character
and backstory may be dramatically different in the manga from here on out, leaving
this fic’s Asa as pretty OOC. Nevertheless, I hope you continue to enjoy the story.

Best,
Lady

Asa said that she wouldn’t judge Denji’s request, but what kind of teenage boy would ask a female
stranger his age to watch him take a bath while she sat on the toilet lid?

A pervert would be her first assumption, but Denji didn’t seem to fall into that category. He was
self-consciously hunched over in the water, still wearing the eyepatch.

Her second guess was that he needed her there for some reason besides surveillance. Probably an
embarrassing reason that he was too proud to admit aloud.

Asa gave a loud sigh and leaned against the toilet tank with crossed arms. Denji was half-heartedly
washing himself with plain water and a washcloth. He almost seemed to be moving…carefully,
taking caution not to expend too much pressure against his skin or move too grandly. The longer
this went on, the more Asa’s mild irritation turned into concern.

…Is he hurt?

Pochita rested on the fluffy pale blue bath mat beside the tub on his side. The devil kept one eye
cracked open and trained on Asa.

At this speed, Denji was going to take hours only to bathe inadequately.

“It…it might be a good idea to remove the eyepatch,” Asa offered. “So you can get to the rest of
your face and hair.”

Denji paused in the futile scrubbing of his arms.

“I—if you’re worried about my reaction, don’t be. I’m not very squeamish,” Asa stuttered,
reaching for the roll of toilet paper. In addition to having grown up on a diet of nursing horror
stories from her father, she’d seen enough nasty scenes in the diner’s women’s restroom stalls
and...other places to desensitize her quite effectively to the human body. A weird-looking or
missing eye wasn’t a big deal.

Denji glanced over at her through his eyelashes.

“I…I can’t reach it comfortably, okay?”

“Your body seemed fine less than half an hour ago.” Asa ripped off three squares of tissue paper
and began to mindlessly fold them into halves, quarters, and eighths. Something to keep her hands
busy.

“…Fucked something up worse taking my clothes off just now. I’m at my limit for today.” Denji
attempted to raise an extended arm in front of him, but stopped about half of the way up to his arm
being parallel at his chest. “Look. Can’t go any further than that,” he gasped, his face going white
with pain under all the dirt.

“What happened?”

Denji said nothing as he lowered his arm. He sat up straight for the first time since Asa saw him
enter the tub, the slouching clearly a cause for discomfort.

That’s when Asa’s eyes went to Denji’s side. When she noticed the palm-sized dark purple bruise
blooming right above the small of his waist along his false ribs.

“Did…you hurt yourself by accident?”

Denji shook his head.

“Did…did someone hurt you?”

Denji’s gaze flickered over to Asa again. Slowly, he gave an affirmative nod.

“Kicked,” he murmured.

“Kicked…?”

“Yeah. The…the gang I mentioned? S’what happens when you’re behind on your payments.”

For the very first time in her entire living memory, Asa saw red.

Denji pressed his fingers down against the bruise and sucked in air through his teeth.

“Probably a bruised rib.”

How dare they.

It was similar to the feeling that came over her yesterday, when she decided to bring this
undersocialized street urchin of a boy into her residence. Except this one was intense. So much
more intense. Every nerve ending felt set alight with pure, unadulterated fury. The rage going
through her system scared her.

“We…we need to get you to a hospital, then.”

Fuck that old Devil Hunter. I’ll do what I want, Asa thought.

“Nah, it’ll be fine in a few days. Isn’t the first time this has happened. When all’s said and done,
m’lucky I’m not dead in a dumpster somewhere,'' Denji responded in a dull, matter-of-fact manner.
“Though I probably deserve to be.”

“Cut the crap,” Asa snapped instinctively. “No you don’t.”

If anyone deserved to be dead because of their actions, it was her. Not him. She was the nihilistic
waste of space who prioritized an injured cat over the parents who loved her dearly in the heat of
the moment. A moment that led to their deaths.

Calm down, Asa. She tried to reassure herself as she ripped apart the pieces of toilet paper in her
hands. You’re being a bad hostess.

Denji didn’t respond. Instead, he turned his filthy washcloth inside out with effort and resumed his
painful bathing as Asa found herself preoccupied in thought.

If they refuse professional help, what can a hostess do for an injured guest?

A conversation with her father, of all people, came to her memory. It was from at least five years
ago, when a starry-eyed preteen Asa Mitaka was dead set on becoming a nurse like her daddy.

“Dad, how do you make patients like you?”

When Asa was having trouble with her math homework, her go-to distraction method was to ask
about her father’s job.

Her father looked over at Asa from where he reclined on the living room sofa. He worked night
shifts most weeks. He was trying to take an afternoon nap before heading out that evening.

“Well, Asa love, that’s complicated. You have to be patient, first of all. Gentleness, guidance, a
helping hand, and encouraging words are also important attributes, especially when they’re
hurting or feeling poorly. Everyone deserves to feel good about themselves, even if your praise is
for only the littlest things.”

Asa snuck a peek at Denji as she faux coughed into the crook of her elbow. This kid would
probably laugh at her if she tried so much as to give him even the dumbest compliment. A “helping
hand” would probably be the easiest thing to offer, though she was pretty sure he’d rather chew her
out for it.

Here goes nothing.

“Do…do you need help washing?”

Another look into the tub showed that the water was already dark brown with dirt. The tub would
need to be drained and refilled multiple times to get him completely clean, Asa realized. Her water
bill was going to be abysmally expensive next month.

“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help,” she clarified.

Denji averted his eyes.

“Let me reword it. May I help you wash?” Asa, red-faced, looked down at her bare feet and
twiddled her thumbs. It was such a forward and creepy question to ask this naked guy sitting in her
bathtub.

“...Yeah. Help me, please.” Denji tenderly brought his legs up to his chest and hugged them around
his shins, resting his cheek against his knee to look over at Asa.

Asa’s eyebrows shot up in surprise as she looked over to Denji. He met her gaze for all of ten
seconds before he turned his face away to look at the tiled wall instead. Asa watched as the flush
traveled up the back of his neck.
Damn. That blush made Asa want to do reckless things.

“You sure?” Asa reiterated.

“Mhm.”

Asa stood, opened the toilet lid, and threw the bits of the toilet paper into the toilet bowl. Pochita’s
eyes narrowed and he made a movement to get up.

“Pochita, lay back down. Remember? I’m deciding to trust her,” Denji said quietly. Pochita, still
with what would be described best as furrowed brows, got up and moved over to lay down on the
cool tile in front of the closed door to the washroom.

Well, here goes nothing.

While Denji wasn’t looking her way, Asa stood and undressed. She yanked off her sweater and
dress, leaving on her tank top and the old pair of junior high athletic bloomers she usually wore to
work under dresses. She folded up all of her discarded clothing and put it on the toilet tank.

“I’m going to drain the water out, okay?”

“‘Kay.”

Asa reached into the tub and popped out the stopper. Bit by bit, she watched the brown water swirl
down the open drain, leaving a still filthy Denji sitting in an empty tub surrounded by streaks of
dirt.

For a moment, Asa seriously considered turning the shower faucet on and hosing him down like a
dog to save money. When she noticed that he started to shiver, Asa relented, quickly plugged the
tub again, and began refilling it with water. She emptied out her toothbrush cup sitting on the sink
and carried it over. Sitting down on the edge of the tub, Asa stuck her feet in the water. She
enjoyed the warmth as the water level rose and reached for the loofah and her wisteria-scented
body wash.

“Body first, then hair,” Asa declared as she poured some soap onto the sponge. She hesitated. The
walls of the tub were too high for her to comfortably sit on the edge and wash him with the ferocity
and leverage needed to get all the muck off.

With a sinking heart, Asa realized what she had to do if she wanted to have any chance of
preserving the last of her poor guest’s dignity. She had to get in the bathtub. Asa took a deep breath
as she stood to grab an armful of fresh washcloths. She wouldn’t blame Denji if he thought she was
a creep when all of this was said and done.

“Straighten and open your legs. I’m going to sit between them.”

“…Excuse me?”

“…So I can help you wash your head, upper torso, and arms.” Asa kept a brave straight face as she
stepped back into the tub by Denji’s feet—there was no way in hell she’d admit how dirty her
previous comment sounded.

“…Oh. Okay.”

“If I help you with the soap afterwards, I trust you can reach everything below your waist without
issue?”
“I…I think so.”

“Good.” Asa wasn’t in the mood to wash a near stranger’s ass today.

Denji did as she requested. Asa positioned herself at his slightly bent knees and carefully kneeled
down into the water. The water level rose with her additional weight, but not enough to spill over
the side like she feared might happen. The warm water soaked through her clothing in an instant.
Gross.

“Let’s get cracking, shall we?” Asa exclaimed, trying to keep the mood light.

“Whatever.”

Asa started at the bottom of his ribcage and worked up his torso until she reached the hollow of his
throat. His ribs stuck out painfully on his side. His vertebrae jutted out similarly on his back. Asa
felt the hard sharpness of the bones beneath his skin when she ran the sponge over both. She bit her
tongue and resolved to stay silent.

After two tub refills, the dirt impressively gave way to tanned shoulders, a pale chest, and a sturdy
back. Asa suppressed a smile when the new washcloth came away from his sternum with no dirt.

Denji stayed silent throughout the process, watching her intently but obeying her few requests
without so much as a word. He moved about limply, like he was in a daze. Odd, but Asa
appreciated his cooperation as she switched targets. With a clinical air that her father would be
proud of, Asa cleaned Denji’s arms until the skin was scrubbed pink.

He had strong hands, she noticed. Stronger than she initially expected them to be. Asa took care to
thoroughly wash between his knuckles, placing his downturned hand on top of her upturned palm
to do so. Denji barely breathed. His fingers slightly spasmed against hers.

Finally, it came time to wash his face.

“Time to take this off, okay?” Asa asked as she turned off the tap, nodding in reference to his
eyepatch. She had to be careful about where she looked when the water was clean and transparent.

“‘Kay.” Denji spoke in a quiet, subdued manner, completely different from the way he spoke to her
at their dumpster meetings.

With careful fingers, Asa peeled the black eyepatch away from Denji’s face. Along with the
eyepatch came even more dirt. The skin underneath the covered area was much paler than its
dirtier surroundings.

Yup, Asa thought as she threw the eyepatch over the edge of the tub. Her hunch was correct. The
collapsed eye socket, probably the result of an eye enucleation surgery, didn’t detract from his cute
face in the slightest.

“You’ve a sweet face,” Asa said quietly without thinking about it. She wetted his greasy hair and
combed it back with her fingers, away from his forehead. When the words finally registered, Asa
blushed bright crimson.

“A what?”

With how close Denji was, there was no way he didn’t hear what she said.

“Nevermind.”
“No, what did you just say?”

…Fine.

“I said you have a ‘sweet-looking face.’ Got it?” Asa poured a dollop of rose-scented shampoo into
her palm and entangled her hands in his hair. It was denser than she expected, with an interesting
wavy pattern near the roots now that it was wet. The foamy lather turned from creamy white to
brown in an instant. It was going to take half the bottle of shampoo to get his hair clean. Asa hadn’t
anticipated how expensive this venture was going to be.

Underneath her fingertips, Denji began to tremble violently.

“I don’t mean it in a bad way!” Asa said in a flustered tone, her eyes focused on his scalp rather
than on his face.

Shit, shit, shit. Something was wrong.

Asa’s heart fluttered in her chest as she rinsed his hair, reapplied the shampoo, and began working
her fingers over his scalp again. Denji practically vibrated, to the point where his teeth started
chattering.

“You alright?”

“I guess,” he managed to say.

Don’t panic, Asa. Keep going but switch gears, she tried to reassure herself. She filled the
toothbrush cup full of bath water and rinsed his hair multiple times.

“A ‘sweet face’ is a huge compliment. Lean forward and close your eyes. Going to take a break
from your hair and wash your face,” Asa said gently.

Denji obeyed and brought up his legs to kneel across from her, but kept trembling under her touch
as he did so. Asa shifted into a cross legged sitting position for comfort.

Concern continued to dominate over her thoughts.

Asa squeezed a glop of body wash onto her fingers, lathered it up with both hands, and switched
focus to cleaning his face. She cradled his face with both hands and began rubbing at his cheeks
and jaw with long, sturdy swipes of her thumbs.

“Did…did I hurt you?”

“…No.”

“Then…can I ask why are you shaking so badly?”

“What’re you talking about?” Asa could tell that Denji was trying to keep his tone even.

“You’re avoiding my question.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Liar.” Asa’s voice was gentle, not accusatory, this time.

“Well, then I’m not telling you because it’s super lame.”
“Remember what I said? I won’t judge you if you tell me the truth. Hold your breath.” Asa rinsed
off his face with a fresh cup of water, reapplied soap to her hands, and began rubbing the filth off
of his forehead.

Denji gave a snort.

“Come on. Spill it.”

“Nah.”

“Please? I’d really like to know this time,” Asa couldn’t keep the genuine hurt from coloring her
words.

I can’t help you if you don’t tell me what’s going on.

“…Fine.” Denji’s breaths were uneven. He dug his fingernails into his left thigh. “The truth is
that…no…no one’s ever touched me like this before.”

Asa wiped the foamy soap up Denji’s forehead and into his hair so that she could make full eye
contact with him. Denji, sensing Asa’s silence, cracked open his good eye to look at her.

“No one’s ever helped you wash? Not even your parents?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

What could she say to that?

“Um, no one’s ever told me that they like my face either.” The admission was enough for the
blood to reach his ears. That beautiful rose color, back in full force.

“That’s a shame, because I definitely do,” Asa tried to say it like she hadn't a care in the world, but
admitting it for a second time out loud was much more embarrassing than she expected it to be.

“Do what?”

“I like your face,” Asa repeated.

Denji bit down on the corner of his bottom lip, suppressing a noise. Asa noticed how he moved a
hand between his legs, but her eyes flitted back up to focus on his face.

“Sorry,” Denji spluttered. He couldn’t make eye contact. “I can’t control it.”

“I’m…I’m not going to stare at your dick, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not doing anything weird, I swear.”

Don’t make this more awkward than it has to be, Asa, she cautioned herself. With a hot face, Asa
applied more body wash onto the sponge.

“I don’t want to know what you’re doing. Lean forward,” she commanded in what she hoped
would be perceived as a cool tone. It wasn’t. Her voice squeaked on the last vowel.

Denji did as she asked, stopping himself just millimeters from leaning his chest against her
shoulder. As Asa started scrubbing his nape, she became aware of his warm exhale against her
skin.

“What do you like about it?” Denji asked after a moment of silence passed.

“About what?”

“My face.”

He’s not going to let this go, is he?

“...You have lovely eyes. I like how their outer corners turn down.”

“You mean ‘eye’? I only have one, if you haven’t noticed.”

Asa rolled her eyes. “Sure, ‘eye,’ if it pleases you.”

“What else?”

“I…I like your mouth. You talk expressively.”

“And…?”

“Your eyelashes aren’t very long, but they are really thick and dark. They’re striking against your
hair. Is…is that blond your natural hair color—the color you were born with?”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Oh, neat. Well, your hair is really beautiful.”

Malnourished and straw-like in texture though, but we can fix that.

“Lots of girls would destroy their hair for such a color. It’s really thick too, which is nice.”

With that final compliment, Asa rinsed the back and sides of his neck. Denji shuddered and lost his
balance. For a moment, he pressed his weight against her front before jerkily correcting his
posture.

“Sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Asa harrumphed, moving onto his ears.

“You don’t care?”

Tentatively, Denji leaned his entire weight against her before resting his cheek on her shoulder.
Asa’s stomach flipped upside down.

“You really don’t care?” Denji asked again.

“No.”

Stay professional, Asa.

Asa caressed the ear that was not pressed between his head and her shoulder with her soapy fingers,
making sure to rub firmly behind its shell. His breath hitched and resumed in short puffs against the
top of her exposed shoulder. She felt him carefully shift his arm between them and press his hand
more firmly against his groin.
“Sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“...Okay.”

Denji turned his head and buried his face into the crook of her neck. Careful not to jostle him, Asa
felt around for the shampoo bottle and found it floating behind her. She poured some of the gel into
her hand—soap is soap, afterall,—and began to clean the inside of his other ear. He tensed under
her touch and his hips gave an involuntary buck against his hand.

“Are…are your ears sensitive?”

“Apparently,” he gasped.

“Well, hold on for a second, okay? I’m almost done.”

Asa sped up the ear cleaning. Denji behaved, but didn’t dare remove his face from her neck.

The tense silence was too much for Asa.

Encouraging words. Asa was doing a very bad job including those in her bedside manner.

“You’re doing a great job, you know that?”

“I am?” Denji whispered. His body suddenly went very still.

“Yep. You’re being very good for me. I appreciate your cooperation so much.”

Asa spilled another cup of bathwater over his head.

“I’m proud of you.”

Denji couldn’t hold it in any longer. He let out a small, helpless cry of need against Asa’s skin as
he blindly searched for her free hand. Asa felt hot tears wet her neck in the midst of his
desperation. Within a sinking heart, Asa provided her hand willingly to him to take. Once Denji got
a hold of it, he intertwined their fingers and squeezed as tightly as he could without hurting her.

“Denji, I…I need to finish washing your hair.”

“Could we stay like this for…for two more minutes? Please?” Denji pleaded into her neck, his
voice breaking. He gingerly rocked his hips against the open palm of his other hand at a languid
pace, creating ripples on the water.

Okay. You win.

“...Two more minutes.”

Asa leaned her head against Denji’s and closed her eyes. She wrapped her free arm around his
waist and pulled him closer. If Denji was anyone else, she wouldn’t be caught dead in such a
scenario. But for him, as crazy as it sounded…she could make an exception.

Take as long as you need to feel better.

 Chapter 5
Chapter Notes

Hello,

Thank you for your lovely comments, kudos, and just taking the time to read up to this
point. It’s truly appreciated. <3 One trait that I really like about canon Asa so far is
that she really seems to care about people, even if she tries to be a generally apathetic
person.

I’m also very much looking forward to the anime airing next week! It looks like it’s
gonna be a good one.

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Asa discovered that Denji had the propensity to cry like a leaky faucet.

After he’d calmed down in the bathtub, to the point where he let go of her hand when Asa asked if
it was okay to continue washing, Denji kept nodding off with her fingers in his hair.

Asa only had to rinse three more times after that. The dark blond hair turned lighter than she had
expected with the washing. The wavy pattern near his hair whorl had turned almost curly when
stripped of substantial oils. Asa knew that it would turn stick straight again once a brush was run
through it, so she resolved to admire it in secret while she could.

One week, and then this will be over.

Asa paused, staring at this tired, naked boy slumped against the tiled wall. As he dozed, Denji
breathed shallowly. His chest barely rose and fell.

What was she thinking?

Denji was a ticking time bomb. With a gang and a government agency interested in him, it would
be an excellent idea to disconnect and cleanly break ties with this homeless kid and his devil. Wash
her hands of the entire situation.

Denji gave a little sob in his sleep. Asa ran her fingers through his wet hair, again pushing it away
from his forehead.

I…I’ll think about it later.

She gently shook Denji awake so he could fulfill his part of the bargain.

Wrapped up in a towel, Asa sat there on the edge of the tub with the body wash and wash towels
while Denji scrubbed his lower half down. She kept her eyes trained on the closed door, handling a
fresh towel behind her head when Denji requested it.
“I’m done.”

Ten tub refills, Asa counted. Five for his upper half, five for his lower half. She’d be taking cold
three minute showers for the next three months.

“You sure?”

“Uh, yeah?”

“Scrubbed down the soles of your feet really well?”

“Yep.”

“The backs of your knees?”

“Yes.”

“Your crotch?”

“…Yeah?”

“Your ass?”

“...Of course I did, alright?”

“Really well?”

“Yes, ‘really well,’ thank you very much,” Denji grouched. Asa suppressed a genuine smile—the
impulse to do so surprised her. It had been a long time since she wanted to do that.

“Wait a second.” Asa stood to grab the two full-sized bath towels from the edge of the sink. Still
averting her eyes, she set one down and unfolded the other, holding it out in front of her.

“Come on, get out.”

Denji stepped out of the tub and Asa wrapped the towel around him, tucking the loose end under
his armpit.

“Gimme a moment, I’ll be right back.”

Asa exited the bathroom (whilst carefully circumnavigating around a suspicious looking red devil)
and fetched the new underwear, a shirt, and a pair of her dad’s old gym shorts. She hurried back
quickly, her heart fluttering like a hummingbird in her chest.

“Here’s your stuff. You can change, right?”

“…Maybe.”

“Well, if you need help, just call, okay? I’m going to get into something dry too.”

“Okay.”

“Oh—make sure to brush your teeth. Red-handled brush is yours.”

Asa looked around her at the discarded clothing on the floor from both of them. She’d take care of
it tomorrow.
“I’ll try.”

Asa wasn’t expecting much, but she hoped for the best. She left the wash room and changed
quickly into pale pink pajama bottoms that had begun to turn a dingy tan with too many washings,
a ratty old short-sleeved shirt, and a soft black hoodie that was once part of her mother’s weekly
apartment cleaning day uniform. She changed from her usual low ponytail to a high but loose bun,
all the while cringing at the feeling of too much oil on her scalp. When Asa emerged into the
partitioned living space containing the chabudai, Denji dressed only in the provided underwear was
waiting for her at the table. The other two garments were folded beside him.

It was odd, seeing Denji clean. Still gaunt in the face, but he didn’t resemble a villager out of an
historic epic directed by Kurosawa or one of the old master jidaigeki film directors anymore. He
almost looked like he could be one of her classmates.

“Yo.”

“Hi.” Denji looked up at her with red-rimmed eyes.

“Where’s Pochita?”

“Right here beside me under the table.”

Pochita let out a loud sneeze to make his presence known.

“Oh, good. Did you manage to brush your teeth?”

“It hurt, but yeah.”

“I could’ve helped you, you know.” Asa sat down on her usual cushion beside Denji and began to
put away the identification documents that she had left on the table.

“As if I’d let you help me brush my teeth. I’m not a little kid. I know how to do it correctly.”

“Didn’t mean to offend you.”

“You didn’t.” Denji’s tone softened and he reached over to touch the T-shirt she had provided. Asa
picked out the stretchiest shirt that her dad owned for Denji, a long sleeved T-shirt from a
commercial sweets company. It was an ugly mauve pink with the printed image on the front of a
shortcake. The English word “CAKE” was crudely written over the illustration. He’d won the
entire family matching shirts as part of a local radio contest. Asa had “ruined” hers by using it as a
paint shirt soon after receiving it.

“What’s the clothes situation going on here?” Asa asked after a beat of silence.

“Yes, about that. Um, Asa?”

“Mhm?” Asa straightened out her school notes.

Denji’s flush traveled all the way up to his ears and all the way down to the middle of his sternum.

“Shorts are too big, even with the drawstrings tightened all the way.”

“Would…would you like to wear a pair of mine?—You don’t have to, if you don’t want to.”

“I…I guess that’s okay?”

“Great.”

“Also, could you help me with the shirt?”

“Sure. Not a problem at all.”

She grabbed the shirt from the table and pulled it over his head. When Denji’s face popped out of
the neck hole of the T-shirt, Asa couldn’t help but exclaim, “Here you are!” and follow it up with
“What a good boy!”

She meant it in jest, of course. It was a seemingly harmless, impulsive, and mindless phrase of
endearment. One that made her two little cousins giggle and grin when she helped them get dressed
in their pajamas while she babysat.

Apparently it wasn’t so harmless with Denji. As soon as she said it, his neutral face crumpled.

“Oh—Denji—” Asa began.

“—I’m sor—” His good eye began to well with tears.

“No apologies. My fault. I’m sorry. That was rude.”

“For what?” he sniffed.

“You’re not a child. You’re probably my age, actually. I shouldn’t talk to you like that.”

“What? That’s it? You’ve nothing to be sorry for. I’m fine.” Denji rubbed at his good eye with the
fabric of the T-shirt.

“Then…do what you need to do. As my mom always said, ‘It’s good to get your emotions out,’”
Asa said gently. Denji very evidently wasn’t fine, but Asa wasn’t going to say otherwise at this
point.

“Okay,” Denji hiccupped. Denji’s nose began to run as tears began to fall freely down his face. To
her surprise, Denji cried from both eyes.

“Come on, let’s get this shirt on so you aren’t trapped by it. Almost there. Arms next, one at a
time.”

Asa carefully guided Denji’s arms through the armholes, flinching at each hiss of pain she caused.

“Nearly there!”

With one last tug, Denji’s left hand was free of the sleeve.

“There we go,” Asa said as she smiled up into Denji’s face. It was a weird feeling, this sudden need
to smile. She hadn’t smiled—really smiled—for such a long time that the sensation was alien. The
tears continued to roll down both cheeks, and now snot dripped down his chin. Asa thoughtlessly
fisted the cloth of the hoodie sleeve she was wearing and used it as a handkerchief, first chucking
him under the chin before swiping his mouth and Cupid’s bow. He tensed when her fabric-
enclosed pointer finger went across his top lip. Finally, she found a clean spot and pressed it to his
nostrils.

“Blow,” Asa commanded. Denj obeyed. A disgusting amount of mucus coated her sleeve.

No matter. Asa could change. It wasn’t a big deal.

Asa switched to her other sleeve and began patting his cheeks dry.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Denji’s voice wobbled.

“You hungry?”

Denji nodded.

“I got microwaveable udon. I hope that’s okay. Do you want the beef broth one or the chicken
broth one?”

“…Beef.”

“Good, because I wanted the chicken one.” Asa told the whole truth for once. The chicken broth
udon bowl was tastier.

Asa wiped away the slow tears one more time before standing up.

“You can stay here. I gotta go prepare them and stick them in the microwave. I’ll come back with
food and your shorts.”

Asa went to the kitchenette, set the gooseneck kettle to boil, retrieved the bowls from the pantry
space next to the sink, and began peeling the shrink plastic off.

Footsteps alerted her to the presence of a now pantsless Denji in the kitchenette.

“Hello again,” Asa said in her best waitress-y greeting voice. “What’s amiss?”

“I want my udon as soon as it’s out of the microwave,” Denji lied lamely.

Asa blinked. He was truly afraid that she was going to disappear on him. She’d dealt with lots of
different people, but never one quite like this boy.

“Then fetch me the kettle.”

Denji did as she asked. He held the handle with both hands and carried it away from his body.

Asa opened both lids, pulled out her kitchen scissors, and snipped open the noodle packages.

“Want to pour the water over the noodles?”

“Huh?”

“To the line. Pour the water up to the line.”

“Oh, right.”

Asa watched Denji meticulously pour a thin stream of water first into the chicken bowl and then
into the beef bowl.

“Do you eat udon often?”

“Not really.”

“Is...is it one of those foods that you have fond memories of?”
“...Sort of. My father and I used to split a bowl of udon for my birthday. Always the cheapest bowl
we could get at the restaurant near our apartment.”

“Just udon for your birthday?”

“Yep.”

“Udon instead of a cake with candles? Doesn’t seem fair to do that to a little kid, if you ask me.”

“I guess.”

“Do you like cake?” Asa cut the spice and dehydrated seaweed packages open and poured them
into the bowls, stirring with a spare pair of chopsticks as she did so.

“Wouldn’t know.”

“You’ve… you’ve never eaten cake?”

“Nope.”

Asa bit her tongue. She stumbled once again into delicate territory.

“Well, not everyone is allowed to eat sugar when they’re little. My mom limited the amount of
dessert I had growing up, but I developed a love for chocolate cake by the time I was five. My
grandmother would sneak me pieces of it during parties at her house. Flourless chocolate cake is
still the best.” Asa stuck both bowls into the microwave and turned on the timer.

“Flourless? I thought all cakes had flour in them.”

“No, some recipes don’t.”

“Hm. Weird.”

They sat and watched the bowls of udon spin in the microwave. Asa’s nerves peaked during the
awkward silence.

“When’s your birthday?” Asa asked.

“March 15.”

“That’s only a couple months away! How old are you turning?”

“Seventeen.”

“Nice! You're a month and a half younger than I am. I’m a Setsubun baby. My mom was throwing
soybeans when her contractions started.”

“I'd've thought you were younger than me.”

“Looks can be deceiving, can’t they?”

“Sure.”

“Tell you what. I’ll make you a cake—any type you’d like—for your birthday this year.”

Asa couldn’t help it. Despite the recent mental debate over whether or not to cut ties with this boy,
what sixteen-year-old has never eaten cake? She wouldn’t allow it. Asa resolved to keep contact
with him until at least March 15.

Denji didn’t respond.

“What’d ya think?”

Not a sound. Asa let her eyes drift over to where he lingered beside her. He stood there with his
hand over his mouth as the tears began anew. He tried not to make any noise despite how heavily
his chest heaved. A weirdly practiced habit, Asa noticed. If she had to guess, it was one born out of
necessity.

Poor thing.

Asa reached for his free hand, which he gave without resistance, and held it until the microwave
beeped.

They ate their udon in silence at the table. It was an almost comforting quiet this time, interrupted
only by Pochita scratching at his belly with his hind legs. Denji periodically shed tears as he
scarfed down the bowl in less than three minutes.

Asa’s first reflex was the desire to find him more food, but her dad’s stories about refeeding
syndrome came to mind.

I’m sorry, Denji. I’ll make sure to leave you something tasty for breakfast, Asa thought as finished
her meal and switched her attention over to her homework.

“What are you working on?” he asked.

“English. I hate it.”

“Learning’s hard in general, I’d think.” Denji gave a half-smile as another tear leaked out of the
corner of his good eye. Asa leaned over and wiped it away.

“Let me get you a handkerchief in addition to the pants I promised you and promptly forgot about.”

“What’s that?”

“Square of fabric for your face.”

“I don’t need something like that.”

“They come in handy. Just take it.”

After changing into a new hoodie, Asa found her baggiest pair of sweatpants and one of her mom’s
old handkerchiefs. They all were embroidered by Asa’s grandmother with a pink-cheeked frog
sitting on a lily pad in one corner.

“Here. Pants and a handkerchief.”

Asa averted her eyes to her notes as Denji dressed himself completely right there in the partitioned
living space. When he finished, he sat back down and eyed the handkerchief warily.

“It’s cute, right?”

“Yeah.”
“Just stick it in your pocket for later.”

“‘Kay.”

After he stashed it away, Denji rested his head on the table. He tried to stay awake, but ultimately
failed despite his best efforts.

After she’d finished making her English flashcards and solving her assigned calculus problems,
Asa reached over to Denji across the table and tapped his shoulder. He awoke with a start, but
calmed when he realized his surroundings.

“Come on. Time for bed.”

“Bed?” Denji asked sleepily.

“Yep. Since you’ve shown me you can behave yourself, you’ll be sleeping on the futon.” Asa
stood up and offered her hand to Denji.

“Where will you sleep?”

“On the futon beside you.”

“Oh.”

“It’s a queen-size futon. There’s plenty of room. Pochita’s welcome to join us too. ”

“Right…

“Is there a problem with that?”

“J…just don’t look down, okay?”

Pochita slept soundly at their feet.

Denji was as close to the edge of the futon as he could be away from Asa. He shifted relentlessly,
tossing and turning enough to keep Asa awake.

Asa mastered the art of “pretending to sleep” by the prodigious age of four. It was simple, really.
Breathe slowly, keep your lips parted, move your eyes back and forth under your eyelids to mimic
deep sleep, and keep your limbs as limp as possible. Here, she put the art to good use. Asa hoped
that she could trick her body into actual sleep by staying stone still, but apparently her mind was
too preoccupied to do so. At least it wasn’t the escaped neighborhood urutau keeping her up
tonight.

Asa turned her head to observe her restless guest and waited for her eyes to adjust to the very pale
light from the waxing crescent moon shining through the slats in her shuttered windows. The light
revealed little more than Denji’s form in the darkness. He was a fetal position side sleeper, but a
restless one at that. His back jerked with catching, ragged breaths.

Asa could bear it no longer. She cleared her throat and propped herself up on her elbows.

“Whatcha still doin’ up?” Asa intentionally made her voice sound sleep-riddled and croaky, like
she just woke from a deep sleep.
No answer except for a barking cough that caused him to fold in half. He had carefully not moved
his upper half from the towel she spread out over his pillow for his damp hair.

“C’mere.”

“Huh?”

“C’mere.”

Asa wrapped her free arm around Denji’s middle and tried to pull him to her chest. He resisted.

“Asa—I might still smell bad—” His voice cracked.

“Dun care.” She pressed her nose to the back of his head and inhaled deeply. “Smells of clean guy,
roses, and wisteria. You’re fine,” she mumbled. “C’mere.”

Denji didn’t resist this time and let Asa pull him to the center of the futon. She threw her leg over
his and tucked her heel between his calves.

Asa patted his cheek with her free hand before beginning to run her fingers through his almost
curly hair. Her fingers came away warm and wet. She wiped them on his towel.

“Use ‘er hanky. Gave it to you for a reason.”

Denji used the towel instead to mop his face.

Good enough. Good boy, Asa thought.

“If someone wants to hurt you, they’re gonna have to come through me.” She said it in a way that
she hoped he’d interpret as sleep-talk. Asa felt her face go hot anyway.

“Really?”

“Yep. I’ll try my best.”

It was a half-lie, but it was comforting. Asa loved the idea of being a strong badass who could take
down gangsters and devils alike, but she knew didn’t have it in her to become one. Like most other
people, she probably wanted a “normal” life: to get married, work a nine to five job, and ultimately
come home to her husband playing with their little one on the couch. When enough decades
passed, she’d like to die in her sleep from old age like most people do.

“Sleep,” Asa commanded as she pulled the coverlet up to their chins and wrapped her arm around
his chest.

“‘Kay.”

Laying there, Asa recalled how her mother used to do this for her. On the rare occasions little Asa
was feeling particularly poorly, her mother would come home early from work, drop everything to
cuddle, and sing random songs to her in terrible English. All while laying in the golden glow of the
late afternoon, right before her mother would get up to make dinner.

What was that one she liked? The old country song by the American singer with the soft voice…Bill
‘A’-something?

As if by a miracle, the lyrics came line by line to the forefront of her thoughts.
 You've cried the last tear you're gonna cry

You've kissed your last lips that cheat and lie

Forget him baby he's just not worth hurtin' for

Your heartache's over it's all gone

I'll make you happy from now on

And no one's gonna hurt you anymore…

Asa haltingly hummed through the first refrain before nodding off beside a sleeping Denji.

Chapter End Notes

The song that Asa references is No One’s Gonna Hurt You Anymore, which was first
covered by Bill Anderson in 1967. If you’re interested, you can listen to it here.
 Chapter 6
Chapter Notes

Hello,

Here’s the next chapter! :) How is everyone doing? Did you enjoy the first episode of
the anime? I thought it was quite good!

Thank you for reading! :)

Best,
Lady

Asa awoke to blood.

Dried blood on the chest of her hoodie.

Her first sleep riddled thought was her period had come early, but the blood was too high on her
body for that and she wasn't in tremendous pain.

Then she noticed the boy beside her. They’d changed positions in the night and he’d fallen asleep
on her shoulder. Asa sat up and looked into his face that was illuminated in the meager blue-tinged
twilight before dawn light that bled through her shuttered windows.

His mouth was covered in dried blood. It was darker than it should be, almost black in coloration.
More dried blood covered the towel beside him. Asa looked down at her hands. The palm of her
hand that held him was also lightly stained with his blood.

She broke into a cold sweat.

“Denji?”

Is he breathing?

He didn’t look like he was. Asa grabbed his arm and shook.

He wasn’t waking up.

“Denji?!” Asa cradled his face and began to pat his cheeks with increasing urgency. That feeling
was back. That scary, passionate, and defensive urge that this boy awoke in her. She’d never felt
this way towards anyone before, even her own family.

Pochita was upon them both in a moment. The little red devil gave a snarl and snapped his two
pointed white teeth at Asa.

For a brief second, Asa felt reckless in her protectiveness. “Don’t act like that towards me, I’m only
trying to help,” she seethed, glaring at Pochita. In the next second, the feeling was gone. She
backed away in fright as the metallic teeth of the chainsaw-like apparatus started whirring on his
face.
“Okay, fine,” Asa squeaked, her chest suddenly tightening. “There you go, he’s all yours.” Pochita
gave another growl before turning his attention away from her and ceasing the rotation of his nose.

Pochita sat down on Denji’s chest, leaned over, and began to lick the crusty blood away from the
boy’s chin and mouth.

Denji grimaced in his sleep, his brows furrowing, but he didn’t wake. Pochita finished and leaned
back on Denji’s chest. The seeming anger in Pochita’s face dissipated as he looked over to Asa.
Asa sat there frozen in place, but her mind spun with the possibilities of what was taking place.

Most devils possess human-like intelligence, don’t they?

“Hey, Pochita. Do…do you understand me?” Asa asked quietly.

Pochita nodded. With how dog-like his behavior seemed, Asa didn’t expect that.

“If…if you really understand me, nod three times.”

Pochita nodded three times. Asa’s heartbeat quickened as she looked over to Denji.

“Tell me, does Denji need to go to the hospital?”

Pochita shook his pudgy head and sneezed like a dog.

“...Can I come near him now?”

The devil nodded.

Asa courageously scooted closer to Denji and Pochita. Now that his face was as “clean” as Pochita
could get it, he looked frail and young. Around his swollen eyes were facial petechiae, little red
dots that dotted brightly against his skin.

He cried so much last night…

Asa stopped when she’d bent over too far and realized that she was centimeters from kissing the
skin right below his lower eyelid. She bolted upright. Her eyes went to Pochita, who watched her
actions with a scathing but rather curious expression.

I want to touch him.

Asa felt shame rush through her system as the intrusive thought skittered across her mind.

Stop it, Asa. You’re just lonely. Denji’s a strange warm body that you let into your bed. That’s all
there is to it. Right?

“Pochita, do you swear to me that Denji will be okay?”

Pochita nodded. Asa wanted to scream that no, there’s a very good chance that he’s not okay.

She knew way too much about medicine from her father combined with her own morbid
curiousity. Hemoptysis wasn’t a symptom to merely shrug off. Yet, here was Pochita without a
hint of concern in his body language.

“He’s just sleeping very heavily, right?”

Pochita shrugged as best he could with his squat shoulders.

Great. That doesn’t answer my question.

“Should…should I just let him sleep then?”

Pochita nodded again.

“Okay. I’m…I’m trusting you, you know that? Since you’re his companion and all.”

Pochita bobbed his head vigorously in response.

Asa sighed. Against her better judgment, she was going to take this devil that Denji trusted on his
word. With her luck, that probably meant she was going to return home that evening to find Denji’s
dead body in her sheets. That would be a nightmare to clean up.

Asa glanced over at her alarm clock. She’d forgotten to set it last night, but she woke up at her
usual hour anyway. 6:00 in the morning, as always, on the dot.

A stomach audibly rumbled and Asa looked back at the devil, who now wore an almost sheepish
expression.

“Are you hungry too?”

Pochita gave a quiet bark and nodded. It’d make sense—he didn’t eat last night to her knowledge.
Did devils have to eat as frequently as humans? She didn’t know.

“Would you like to eat breakfast with me?” It seemed like the politest thing to do for a guest, even
if the guest resembled a brachycephalic dog.

Pochita nodded.

“Very well.” If Asa didn’t direct her thoughts away from Denji’s condition now, it would consume
her entire being. She had to think of something else, and that something else was going to be food.

Asa moved to her side of the bed, swung her legs down, and stood. She went to the other side of
the bed and gently pulled away the towel under Denji’s head. To her relief, the blood hadn’t bled
through to the sheets. She fetched another towel from the washroom after washing her hands,
replaced it underneath his head, and then pulled the cover back up to his chin. The boy took a
single deeper breath before going back to the shallow breathing that freaked Asa out.

Sleep well.

With Pochita in tow, Asa quietly made her way over the fridge in the kitchenette.

Opening the appliance’s door, she took inventory of its contents. A fresh bunch of bananas, soy
sauce, half a jar of crystallized honey, and the fourth of an old loaf of bread. Barely enough food to
justify the cost of electricity to keep it running. Inspection showed that only the bread’s crust was
moldy—if removed, it would be perfectly edible.

“Well, Pochita, it seems like the only thing I’m going to be able to make is untoasted bread with
sliced bananas and honey,” Asa muttered. She looked over to the devil, who was much too close to
her bare ankles for her comfort.

The infernal thing nodded and gave a yap of approval.

“Oookay, then.”
Mitaka Asa was seeking approval from a devil. Truly, she was going mad.

Gathering the ingredients needed for breakfast, Asa closed the fridge door with her hip. On her
way to the low table, she grabbed a plate, a saucer, and her saw-toothed bread-cutting knife.
Pochita followed her.

After she sat down at the chabudai, Asa removed the bread from its plastic wrapper. Dots of white
and green mold colonized its edges. Asa rubbed the sleep crust from her eyes before she began
picking off the mold with her bare hands. In another life, she wouldn’t allow a mold colony to
populate her refrigerator, but the same power that kept her from finding the energy to wash her hair
now kept her from throwing away edible food, no matter how gross it looked. Pochita sat down
across from Asa and intensely watched the growing pile of moldy crusts on the saucer. His
stomach growled again.

“You can eat them if you won’t get sick.”

Pochita stood up with his little black tail perked up behind him and gave a yapping bark, nodding
his head vigorously.

Asa set the saucer down beside her. Pochita leapt upon the bread bits in a fury. Asa jumped at the
odd ferocity coming from the creature. His nose—the chainsaw-like apparatus attached to his face
—prevented him from seeing where the bread was on the plate, leading Pochita to root around
blindly for pieces that had fallen off the saucer in his initial excitement.

If the devil didn’t scare Asa as much as he did, she’d almost think the sight was funny.

Asa continued placing moldy bits of bread down on the saucer until the loaf looked bald but
edible. Pochita sat like an obedient dog, his tail thumping loudly against the tatami mat floor.

He watched as Asa cut the nutty bread into four thick slices.

Awkward silences were somehow even more awkward when Asa’s companion wasn’t able to
speak.

“Pochita…I want to apologize if my behavior has been off-putting to you. My…my parents were
killed by a devil—the Typhoon Devil, more specifically. They were killed this past June.”

Asa couldn’t think about that for too long—if she did, she’d start bawling. Instead, she spread dabs
of crystalized honey over the bread and began unpeeling the banana.

“I find it…difficult to trust devils—I think most humans do, but it’s especially hard for me. I hope
you understand my reasoning?”

Pochita cocked his head and blinked.

Devils don’t understand human emotions, do they? Asa wondered as she cut half of the banana
onto the devil’s piece of bread before she made her own.

Of course they don’t.

After she drenched the first piece of banana-covered bread in honey, she placed its plate on the
floor beside her. Pochita stood, sniffed the bread, and began to eat it in a more dignified manner
than he had the moldy bread crumbs.

Asa took a bite of the second piece of bread. The honey crunched under her teeth, making her
recoil a bit in disgust. She preferred smooth, fresh honey, but crystalized would do in a pinch.

When desperate times call for desperate measures…

Asa ate her breakfast slowly, savoring the general taste of sweetened banana. It had been months
since she bought herself the luxury of fresh fruit.

Pochita, now with a honey-smeared mouth, resumed his staring at her with a cocked head. He
watched as Asa prepared two bread slices for Denji and placed them on her barely used place.

“You’re not going to lick your plate?” Asa gently teased.

With a bark, Pochita answered her question by slobbering over every square centimeter of his plate.
Asa found herself giving the devil a little half smile before smothering the expression. A profound
sense of betrayal came over her.

Smiling at a devil? What’s come over you, Asa?

Asa blinked away the tightening feeling from her eyes and stood up, quickly gathered the
remaining ingredients, and headed back to the kitchenette. She located a clean dish cloth and
covered Denji’s breakfast before putting the plate and the four remaining bananas in the
refrigerator.

“When Denji wakes, alert him to where his food is, yeah? He can have as many bananas as he likes
too. I’ll get groceries on my way home today.”

Pochita gave a huff to show that he was listening.

“I have to get ready. My shift at work today is short, so I’ll be home by late afternoon. I trust that
you’ll keep Denji in the apartment and away from trouble? Don’t let anyone inside. Understood?”

Pochita gave a howl, which Asa chose to interpret as a “yes ma’am!”-type of reaction.

“Good.”

Asa got ready with her usual feigned alacrity. Pochita watched her routine from the foot of the
futon. She left without a word, but made sure that the door was locked properly before she headed
to school.

Asa could barely focus in class. The constant buzz of anxiety thrummed in the back of her mind.

Was I careful enough escorting Denji to my apartment?

Am I safe?

What if he leaves?

Is he safe?

Will he even still be alive when I get home?

Asa’s mind spun with alternatives to going back home. She could board the train and crash on her
aunt’s spare futon, or beg one of her co-workers to let her spend the night on their apartment floor.
But…it didn’t seem fair. She’d promised Denji that she’d protect him. She also promised Pochita
that she’d bring home food. It would be very un-hostess-like of her to abandon her guests.

She similarly went through her afternoon shift at work and her grocery store errand with one thing
in mind: she had to get home as soon as possible.

It was twilight by the time Asa got back to the apartment. The brown and white-feathered urutau
was back. Asa knew that urutau birds weren’t native to Japan. According to the ornithology books
she tracked down in her school’s library, this bothersome specimen resembled the northern urutau,
a species with a native range from Mexico to Costa Rica as well as the islands of Hispaniola and
Jamaica. The only way it could’ve showed up at this apartment complex is if it was abandoned by
its owner or was otherwise an escapee from a zoo or something akin to it.

As always, it waited in front of her apartment door on its customary section of the black metal
railing. Asa’s stomach dropped at the old rockabilly Devil Hunter’s reminder. She couldn’t let it
see the boy or the devil she hid inside the apartment.

“You! Get!”

With four overloaded plastic bags (two on each arm) weighing down her person, Asa rushed over
to the urutau. On a usual day, the bird knew to take flight once Asa was in striking distance. That
day, the creature didn’t budge. Instead, it turned its head and stared at her with its unfocused and
bulbous yellow eyes.

“Leave!”

The bird screamed. A croaking, almost human-like cry came from its pointy and sunken in beak.

At night, it sounded like a teenage boy unexpectedly pulled out of bed, stabbed, and now begging
desperately for something outside her window.

How Asa hated that sound.

“Stop it!”

It didn’t stop screaming.

“I said stop it!”

Asa dropped the two grocery bags on her dominant hand where she stood and took a bare-armed
swing at the creature. To her utmost surprise, her arm made contact with its chest. The bird
shrieked as it went barreling to the ground below with barely spread wings.

Asa didn’t wait to see if it managed to take flight or not. She picked up her groceries, hurried over
to her apartment door, got the key in the lock, and scuttled inside.

Denji.

His name dominated her thoughts as she locked the apartment door behind her and shed the much
too expensive grocery haul from her arms by the front door.

Denji, Denji, Denji.

After what happened that morning, Asa prepared to find him dead as she shucked off her shoes and
outer clothing. Cold and stiff, with liver mortis developing on his back and legs. As she peeled
open his good eye, she’d see dark tache noir spots on his sclera. Asa imagined it all in her mind’s
eye.

She ran to the sequestered bedroom.

Pochita snoozed at the end of the futon, slightly snoring as he did so. Denji, asleep, rested on his
back, his arms splayed out on either side, and his legs tangled up in the sheets and comforter. The
mauve shirt he wore had ridden up in his sleep, exposing his stomach and chest. Asa warily placed
her open palm on his upper stomach, just below his ribcage. Her fear waned as Denji’s stomach
expanded and shrunk with each shallow inhale and exhale.

He’s alive.

Asa’s eyes darted about for more evidence of expelled blood. None was to be found.

It seemed as if he’d barely moved since she left.

After she observed Pochita for a moment, Asa crawled onto the futon and laid down beside Denji.
His closed eyes still looked red-rimmed and raw from crying.

Breathe, Asa. He’s okay. They’re both okay. They’ll be fine.

Her eyes were drawn to his exposed skin. She first noticed the bruise along his false ribs. A light
green ring around the purple spot had formed over the past twenty or so hours since she first saw
it. Good, that meant the healing process had begun.

With an intellectual curiosity, Asa’s gaze went further down his exposed form.

He had a single long raised surgical scar that followed the contour of his hip along his lower belly.
It looked like it had healed poorly. She also noticed a series of white circular scars on his upper
stomach above his navel.

Burns? What have you gone through in your short life, Denji?

Asa wanted to kill whoever hurt him. She wanted to use her adolescent kendo training and take a
real katana to their throats.

On the brighter side, Denji also had freckles, she realized. Very faint freckles dotted the skin on
his lower belly, right above the waistband of his pants.

Cute.

Her face flushed with shame and she pulled down his shirt for him. Asa proceeded to just watch
him breathe for a while, her eyes trained on his nostrils.

No matter how much she tried to calm herself, Asa’s heart wouldn’t stop pounding. With some
reluctance and a few side glances at a still dozing Pochita, Asa inched closer and caressed his
cheek. As soon as she touched his warm skin, her anxiety drained almost completely away. Denji
leaned into her touch before his stressed sleeping face broke.

“Hey,” Asa said. “Are you awake?”

Denji didn’t respond. He groaned and squeezed his eyes tightly shut before opening his good eye.
“What time is it?” he asked, yawning.

“It’s almost dinnertime. Lucky for you, I bought groceries.”’

“Oh? That’s…” As Denji trailed off, the drowsy contentment on his face was replaced with a
sudden alertness and a widened eye as he turned his head to look at her.

“You’re back,” Denji finally responded. “You really came back.”

“Of course I did. This is my apartment.”

“Right. Sure,” he responded self-consciously.

“Did you think I’d just up and leave?”

Denji didn’t answer, but his silence said everything that Asa needed to know.

Yes, I still think you’re gonna leave me.

“Where else would I go?” Asa exclaimed, slightly redirecting the question.

“Dunno.”

“The correct answer is nowhere.”

“Oh.”

“Even if this apartment wasn’t mine, you know why I’d come back?”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re here. I promised I’d protect you, and Mitaka Asa always fulfills her promises.
Okay?”

She didn’t always fulfill her promises, but she tried her best.

“‘Kay.”

Asa swept her calloused thumb across the puffy eye bag under his good eye. Asa considered asking
about the blood, but as Denji seemed to consciously register her touch for the first time, she
watched his eye grow shiny with unshed tears.

She couldn’t. Not tonight.

“Have you been sleeping all day?” she asked instead.

“I got up once to eat what Pochita showed me in the fridge and to take a piss. The…the bread you
left was tasty. Other than that, yeah.”

“Good. I want you to get as much sleep as you can stand. It’s your first and only priority. Got it?”

“‘Priority?”

“Task. Errand.”

“Ah, yeah. I can do that.”

“Good.”

With that, Asa removed her hand from his face and jumped out of bed, startling Pochita. “That
being said, I think you’ve hit your resting quota for the day. Want to join me in the kitchen? I need
your help chopping vegetables.”

“‘Kay.”
 Chapter 7
Chapter Notes

Hello,

Thank you for tuning in and your continued readership! Your comments and kudos
give me LIFE! Who is ready for the third episode of the anime?! I certainly am. :)

This chapter has reinforced my suspicion that I, having never been one nor having
written from the perspective of one before, struggle with writing horny teenage boys. I
hope you find my attempt entertaining and that I didn’t make him too out of character.

Please be aware that this chapter contains an intimate (but purposefully character-
building, I hope) moment for Denji (Asa isn’t involved). If you want to skip it, stop
after “…Fuck. Was that an indirect kiss?” and resume at “After he properly
relieved…” Some context may be missed and it’s generally referenced throughout the
chapter, but it should be readable still.

Best,
Lady

Denji awoke before Asa the next morning with goosebumps and cold feet. She’d pulled away from
him in the night and stolen most of the fluffy heather grey comforter, burrowing up under it like a
mountain mole.

No wonder I’m freezing.

Asa’s apartment was nearly as cold as his own shack. The big window right beside the futon
probably didn’t help the matter.

Denji shifted to get closer to her, but couldn’t bring himself to touch her or wrestle the comforter
back, fearing he might wake her. Instead, he watched her sleep in the meager very early morning
light as his eye adjusted to the relative darkness.

Asa’d pulled the comforter tightly around herself, leaving only her face exposed. She drooled
slightly out of the corner of her open mouth as she slept. Her bangs were askew about her face.

Asa didn’t resemble the girls in the porno magazines like Bejean or Video Boy. She wasn’t some
skinny model with perfect makeup on, long legs, big tits, and no hair anywhere except for on the
top of her head and eyebrows. It’d never crossed his mind before that yes, girls do also grow hair
elsewhere on their body until Asa had rubbed her leg against his two nights ago. She also had hella
bad posture, a sullen neutral expression, and oily hair with shaggy bangs. Her body was lean, but
there was a softness to her frame that wasn’t evident when she was fully dressed.

Despite all of this, Denji thought Mitaka Asa was indescribably beautiful. If Denji wasn’t
completely convinced about this fact before, he was a hundred percent sure when Asa held him in
the bathtub as he cried into her neck and then a thousand percent sure when she smiled up into his
face while she helped him put the shirt on afterwards. Her big brown eyes crinkled at the outer
corners as her toothy smile transformed her entire face. Denji especially liked her smile.

Asa was unusually generous and kind too. He’d known that since she first agreed to give him her
trash bag of food scraps. Denji wasn’t completely stupid. Not just any girl would give their trash
and flowers to a weird and dirty guy who smelled horrible.

Denji reached over and wiped away the drool dribbling down her chin with his thumb and pointer
finger. Asa seemingly paid no mind and continued to sleep like the dead. He looked at his wet
fingers and thoughtlessly licked them. Her drool was slightly minty from her toothpaste but was
otherwise flavorless. It took a second for Denji to put two and two together.

…Fuck. Was that an indirect kiss?

He was always erect in the morning, no matter the temperature, but today was different. The
indirect kiss realization sent him into overdrive. His morning wood throbbed with an intensity he’d
never felt before. It took a considerable amount of willpower not to pull his dick out and touch
himself right here on the futon. Instead, he flopped over on his stomach and hoped his body weight
would make it go away.

Shit.

The pressure made it worse. It probably didn’t help that he, a daily masturbator, hadn’t come in a
few days, but this urge didn’t feel like something that could be relieved by looking at some random
chick’s tits printed on paper. It was a deep, tingling ache accompanied by an uncomfortable
warming sensation in his ballsack. Completely foreign to any other urge he’d had before.

Denji pressed his face into his pillow and let out a silent scream. This was all Asa’s fault.
Something about this girl turned his brain into mush and his legs into jelly.

He’d been called a “good boy” before. Images of crusty gangsters smoking countless cigarettes and
sarcastically praising him as he hauled a mutilated devil corpse to their feet came to mind. Mitaka
Asa’s “good boy,” however, was different. To be a “good boy” in her eyes was a badge of honor. It
wasn't cruel, sarcastic, or conniving coming from her lips. She was proud of him. He wasn’t sure
exactly why, but still.

“There you are! What a good boy!”

Denji’s ears, chest, and face became unbearably hot at the recollection of the memory.

Praise from Asa was intoxicating. He wanted more of it. He wanted to be her “good boy.”

Denji felt his cock twitch and…pulse? He was getting wet, he realized, but what was it? This didn’t
happen when he usually jacked off. He touched the front of his underwear and smelled his hand. It
definitely wasn’t urine. He stuffed the towel meant for under his wet hair between his legs to
protect the futon. The resulting bunched up terry cloth fabric pressed against his clothed groin felt
good. He couldn’t resist the urge any longer. Denji bit back a gasp as he began to rock his hips
back and forth against the textured surface as quietly as he could. The resulting little shocks of
pleasure made the ache worse and the need to alleviate it greater.

Denji shoved his face back into his pillow and held his breath. He shouldn’t be reacting this way.
He was the guy in this situation. He should be the aloof one. The one holding her, comforting her,
and wiping her tears away. The one who finally relented as Asa, horny as hell, begged for his cock.
Right?

Instead, Denji wanted to do nothing more than let Asa rip off his clothes and have her way with
him. They didn’t have to have sex if she didn’t want to. Hell, he didn’t even need to feel her tits
either, he realized. He’d like to, sure, but it wasn’t necessary. She could just touch him in whatever
way that she pleases. His ears, face, lips, chest, waist, thighs, ass, dick—he didn’t give a fuck
where. He itched for her hands on his body and for her smiles and words of praise on her lips.

Was this normal? Denji had no idea, but he wasn’t sure if he cared to know. He gave an exhale and
began to breathe normally again.

Denji tucked his arm under the towel and pressed his covered cock down against his hand. He
ground the entire length of his dick down upon the heel of his hand. That felt even better.

…Would Asa actually kiss me if I asked for it?

Two days ago, Denji would’ve thought that a real kiss was a pipe dream. That he’d die before ever
getting to kiss someone.

Now?

A tiny ember of hope fluttered in his chest. There was a chance, however small, that this
comparatively innocent dream of his could be fulfilled if she consented to it.

Denji gave an embarrassed side glance over to Asa. He loved her face. She was so pretty on top of
already being a good person. He’d become a bit better at reading her emotions since last night,
narrowing in on the little cues. Now that she was a bit more relaxed around his presence, she was
surprisingly much more emotive than he initially thought she’d be. He liked how intense her
expression was when she studied her flashcards. She’d twist her mouth up in an unsatisfied crooked
little line as she concentrated. When the concept clicked for her, the wrinkles disappeared and she
could move onto the next card.

Asa gave a throaty sighing hum in her sleep.

That noise was too much. Her mere presence overwhelmed his senses. He was going to bust all
over the futon if he kept going like this.

Denji hopped off of the futon, grabbed the towel, and made for the washroom. As soon as the door
was locked behind him, he stripped off the clothing Asa had provided, wincing in pain as he pulled
the shirt off over his head. He’d soaked through the front of his underwear.

Shit.

Naked, Denji leaned against the door and took himself in hand. It took less than ten long strokes
before he reached his orgasm. The explosive sensation radiated out from his dick, up his spinal
cord into his brain, and out into his extremities. He saw pure white for a moment as his legs gave
out from under him and he dropped to his knees.

Ouch.

He slumped forward and rested his forehead on the cool tile floor, ass up in the air and arms
underneath him, one hand still holding onto his dick. He’d never experienced anything like that
before. His remaining testicle spasmed with the exertion.

Was that kind of what sex with someone you like feels like?

Denji laid there for a while on the floor until he went completely soft and his legs felt solid enough
again to stand. He had to clean a considerable amount of ejaculate off of the floor. Thankfully,
none got on the shower mat. Denji proceeded to pour soap on wet toilet paper to wipe up cum off
of his body and the tiles, disposing of the soiled tissue in the toilet.

After he properly relieved himself, Denji took a moment to thoroughly brush his teeth. As he did
so, he watched himself in the desilvering mirror above the sink. The post-nut clarity was sobering.

I like Mitaka Asa, but why would she like me?

Sure, she might like his face, but that’s all he really had to offer. No money, no education, no
family connections, nothing. He wasn’t even a whole person anymore. The boy who stared back at
him in the mirror was missing an eye, a testicle, and a kidney.

Denji fingered the bumpy kidney donation scar that ran from his lower stomach to his pubic area
with his free hand. He contracted a severe infection after that back alley surgery a month ago. He
remembered feverishly laying naked on his bed the week after. He watched the angry red wound
seep yellow pus around the stretched stitches as his vision went blurry for hours on end. Denji
nearly died that night, all for a measly 1.2 million yen. To his astonishment, he awoke the next
morning not only alive, but with a poorly but completely healed scar with no infection in sight.
Pochita sat on his chest, waiting for his morning walk like nothing had ever happened. It was the
closest thing Denji had ever experienced to a miracle, that was for sure.

Denji ran his fingers over the other ugly physical reminders from his past on his front and over the
ones he could reach on his back.

Denji then put his free hand to his froth-covered mouth and ran his thumb pad across the sharp
tops of his lower set of teeth. He’d been careful not to smile too widely around Asa. Didn’t want
his teeth to weird her out. With how pointed they were, he could puncture skin like a shark if he bit
down hard enough. In a regular scrap, they were an asset. In a too intense love bite? His teeth could
hurt someone he loved considerably. Denji hated that possibility.

Hell, Denji was also three steps away from being emaciated too.

Fucking skin and bones. You’re a damn skeleton.

All these physical shortcomings, and it wasn’t like he had a huge cock or something to compensate
for them all.

His eye burned fiercely as he spit out the toothpaste and washed his mouth out with water.

No, no, no.

Denji turned on the faucet again and filled his cupped hands with warm water. He splashed it over
his face.

Stop it. You never cry like a fucking baby. What’s come over you?

He was lying to himself. The answer was obvious. Denji made a friend. Mitaka Asa, a random
stranger, took him into her home, cleaned him, clothed him, fed him, and held him. Let him feel
like he was a human being for once in his life. Without knowing a thing about him or Pochita, she
was letting him live his simple dreams on borrowed time.

If the Devil Hunters failed to kill him, the gang would. If the gang by some miracle didn’t murder
him, a devil would. If a devil didn’t, his heart would probably fail on him like his mother’s had.
Based on the words that his father had taunted him with before his death, Denji wouldn’t live to
see his eighteenth birthday.
Denji rinsed his toothbrush and put it back in the cup. He grabbed a hand towel on the toilet tank
and wiped his face down. In the next moment, his chest seized up in pain. It felt like his heart was
tying itself into a knot inside his rib cage.

Fuck.

He couldn’t swallow the thickened saliva in his mouth. His airway felt constricted and he braced
himself over the sink. Fear bloomed in his chest as he forced himself to cough repeatedly.

No blood, just spit, he mentally pleaded.

Only clear fluid came out.

Good.

The fear lessened as the pain subsided. He finally was able to breath again and swallow without
trouble. He swallowed his spit a second time as reassurance that he wasn’t losing control of his
body just yet.

Denji swore he threw up blood for the first time two nights ago, right before Asa held him in bed
for the first time. He’d been too terrified to move that night and chose to fall asleep in his own spit-
up. Aside from the coppery taste in his mouth, he found no evidence of blood when he woke the
next morning. Denji didn’t know what to make of it, but it scared him.

Two days ago, Denji’d more or less come to terms with his mortality. His ultimate fate was to be
an unclaimed corpse in the medical examiner’s office. If he was lucky, he’d be in one piece. More
realistically, it’d be his stabbed and dismembered torso in the body bag.

Denji hoped maybe, just maybe, Pochita could claim his body and run away somewhere to live a
normal life, whatever that might be. If Pochita couldn’t, maybe a considerate person would take
the time to say a few kind words and dump Denji’s cremated ashes into a creek or the ocean or
something.

If Denji died two days ago, no one human would be there to miss him. Aside from Pochita’s
uncertain future, he could die without too many regrets or fears. He could be as reckless and
thoughtless as he wanted to be.

Now?

Denji had Asa. She might never like-like him in the way he was pretty sure he did her, but that
didn’t matter—if he died now, he’d have to leave Asa behind. Denji wasn’t sure if he could do
that.

His thoughts were interrupted by an urgent knock at the door.

“Who’s there?” Denji called out.

“The lady of the house!” Asa’s voice came from outside.

“Almost done!” Denji shouted. He hurriedly flushed the toilet, shut off the faucet, and picked up
his discarded clothes and towel. In his horny lizard brain flight to the bathroom, he forgot that he
didn’t have a change of clothing.

“Hurry up, I have to pee,” Asa called sleepily from the short hallway.
“I’m naked!”

“Don’t care!”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, just get out!”

Naked but with his discarded clothing in front of his crotch, Denji unlocked the washroom door
and Asa slipped by him. Denji waited by the closed door awkwardly before disposing of the
clothes in a bare corner of the room for later and heading back to the futon. Asa turned the
overhead light on while he was in the restroom. Pochita decided at some point in the night to sleep
on the floor next to Asa’s side of the futon.

Whatever.

Exhaustion still weighed down on his body, and he sunk back into his side. It felt good, resting
naked like this with the sheets against his bare skin. Denji liked it.

A door knob rattle alerted a dozing Denji to Asa’s presence. He pulled the comforter over himself,
just in time as Asa came back to the bedroom.

Asa, navigating through slitted eyes, shut the overhead light off, stifled a yawn, and flopped back
onto the futon beside Denji. He wanted to comb his fingers through her crazy flyaway hair.

“Morning.” Denji greeted her casually, as if he hadn't just had the most intense orgasm of his life
thanks to her mere existence. His entire upper body felt hot, and he knew that he’d noticeably
flushed pink if the light was still on. He felt weirdly shy.

“Not yet. Only 4:10.” Asa got closer and Denji became aware of her body heat.

I’m still cold, he realized.

“Hmm, it’s chilly in here, isn’t it?” Asa asked.

“A little.” Denji tucked the comforter underneath his sides.

“Ugh, I hate it.”

With a “hmph,” Asa begrudgingly got up and exited the partitioned bedroom. Denji felt his pulse
thrum in his wrists as he willed his body to stop blushing.

Asa came back, lugging a white portable heater behind her and a thick folded quilt over her
shoulder.

Denji made a move to get out of bed and help, but Asa put up a hand.

“Nun-uh. I got this.”

Asa unfolded the quilt—a beautiful navy linen patchwork one with cream sashiko stitching—and
laid it over the comforter. It was wonderfully heavy. “Want the heater on your side or mine?”

“Your side is fine.”

“You sure?”
“Yeah.”

“Okay.”

Asa pulled the power strip closer to the futon and plugged in the heater before switching it onto its
highest setting. She further arranged the heater to be to her satisfaction before hopping back in bed.

“Pochita, wanna get in here?” Asa mumbled over the side of the futon.

The devil gave a positive yap and Denji felt Asa’s side of the futon dip a little further down. He
waited for Pochita to come over to his side and cuddle into his arms, but the devil never appeared.

“Where’d he go?”

“He’s curled up against my back.” Asa said breathlessly in an almost surprised tone.

“What?” Denji exclaimed louder than he meant to.

“Is…is that okay?” Asa responded.

“…I mean, yeah, if you’re cool with it.”

Asa looked behind her to check on Pochita. “It looks like he’s asleep already.”

“…He’s probably fine. Just leave him.” Denji felt like he should feel a profound sense of betrayal,
but he only felt relief.

Pochita feels safe around Asa. I’m glad.

Pochita didn’t warm up to just anybody, and Asa passed Pochita’s approval process with flying
colors. Good.

“Got it.”

Denji and Asa were quiet as they redistributed the comforter between them. Denji was the first to
speak.

“That’s an electric heater?”

“Yep.”

“I’ve only seen them in department stores.” Department stores that he entered to warm up in before
the store’s security guard inevitably kicked him out for looking as he usually did.

“Kerosene heaters are much cheaper, but I can’t stand the smell. So, an electric heater it is.”

“Feels nice.”

“Yep.” Asa yawned dramatically and burrowed down into the comforter.

“Hm.”

Denji was more comfortable now, but he wasn’t warm enough yet. He rubbed his crossed hands
over his shoulders. Asa noticed.

“…Hey, c’mere,” Asa commanded, patting the futon directly beside her. “Can't have you getting
sick on me.”
Denji obeyed without question, getting closer but not too close.

“Can I hold you?” Asa asked sleepily.

Denji hoped she’d ask. You can hold me anytime you’d like, he wanted to say, but he settled with,
“If ya want.”

She closed the distance, pulling him close and locking him in her embrace with her leg. Denji
hugged her draped arm to his body, relishing the feeling of her warmer skin against his cooler skin.
He arched his back against her chest like a cat.

“Where’re yer clothes?” Asa mumbled into the crook between his bare shoulder and neck. Ah, the
feeling of her mouth against the sensitive skin there was too much. He was hard again.

Dammit.

He was gonna have to rub another one out after Asa left for school.

“Was gonna shower when you interrupted,” he lied.

“Need help?” She smelled slightly of salty sweat and wildflowers. Such a good smell.

“Nope, got it this time.”

“Three minute showers, cold water only.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re expensive.”

“…Oh.”

“I don’t mind it though,” Asa murmured. “You’re worth every yen.”

“Why?”

“Cause you’re an excellent dishwasher, vegetable chopper, and…hot water pourer.”

“That’s not much,” Denji responded, but the silly praise lit up his brain like fireworks. He realized
last night that he needed to make himself useful to Asa in some way. Thus, he cleaned up from
dinner entirely by himself while Asa completed her homework and studied. He didn’t expect to be
praised for it, but he wasn’t angry that she did.

“We all have to start somewhere,” Asa said before she yawned again. “With some training, you’ll
be an excellent chef.”

“Chef?”

“Yeah. Soon, you’ll be the one making dinner.”

“Every night?”

“...For long as you’re here, sure.”

“‘Kay. I’ll learn how to cook.”

“Good, cause I want to come home to delicious food.”

“I probably will never beat the somen you made last night though.”

“Yes you can. The noodles were instant. It was only good because of how finely you sliced up the
vegetables,” Asa countered.

“Oh, okay.” He suppressed the desire to draw out more compliments with a question. “What do
you want me to make?”

“…Whatever you’d like.”

“What do you want, though?”

“Hmm…beef and potato stew. Or crème brûlée.”

“Sounds tasty.” Denji didn’t know what crème brûlée was, but it sounded fancy and delicious.

“That’s because I’m a gourmet, of course.”

“‘Gourmet’?”

“Snooty food enjoyer.”

“Hm.”

“I’m…I’m trying to be sarcastic, if you can’t tell. Just as long as my belly is full, I’m fine.”

“Right, right.”

Their exchange was just light-hearted banter, but it still warmed Denji’s soul and brought a stupid
grin to his face. Denji never knew how fun it was to fantasize about shared futures with another
human, even if that future was only a couple of days long. Now that they were talking about food,
the urge to come clean suddenly overtook him.

“…I have something food-related to confess.”

“Yeah?”

“The udon we had two nights ago?”

“Mhm?”

“That was the first udon I’ve ever had.”

Asa was silent for a moment. “You’d never had udon before?”

“Nope.”

“Oh. Well, did you like it?”

“Best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

“I’ll let you have the chicken broth one next time. It’s better.”

“Okay, deal. Sorry,” Denji said quietly, “didn’t mean to lie to you. Just didn’t want to admit it
before.”

“It’s okay.”
Asa inhaled slowly and asked, “What…what do you usually eat?”

Denji paused. He didn’t want to tell her, but it felt like he should.

“Flour and water.”

“Like…mixed up together into a sludge?”

“Yeah.”

“So, like glue?”

“Huh?”

“You never made flour and water adhesive in kindergarten, like as part of a science experiment?”

“I never went to school.”

“Oh…well, flour and water can be used to stick paper together. You can soak paper in it and layer
the wet paper together to make masks and toys and stuff. The stacked paper dries stiff—it’s called
papier-mâché.”

I’ve been eating glue this entire time? Denji flushed. He felt like even more of an idiot than he
normally did.

“I eat bread and sugar sometimes too, if I can afford it,” Denji continued hurriedly, as if adding
details was going to make the situation any better. “I buy those things. Other than that, I eat
whatever I can find that’s been thrown away.”

Asa inhaled to speak, but Denji interrupted her.

“Yeah, I know it’s gross, but it’s not like I have many options since my father died.”

Denji hoped she wouldn’t ask for particulars about his parents. He couldn’t tell her how he became
an orphan. Not in a million years would he be able to do that, even if he really wanted to.

“You…you’ve done what you had to do. Flour and water are perfectly edible…it’s not like eating
them together will make your intestines stick together or something. Shows that you’re resourceful
and tough.”

Denji couldn’t help it this time. “I am?”

“As my mom liked to say, “‘you’re a tough cookie!’” Asa said the saying in terrible English. Denji
laughed quietly, glad the minor tension was sucked out of the conversation.

“What does it mean?”

“Um, I think it means you’ve gone through a lot of crap, but you’re still moving forward.”

Asa really was too good to him. Denji wanted so badly to straddle her hips, pin her down with his
weight, tangle his hands in her hair, and cover her face with kisses. Instead, he covered her hand
with his and squeezed it as a silent thanks. If he tried to thank her verbally, his voice would break.

“Did…your dad take you out for another type of dish for your birthday?”

That was an okay particular to tell.

“…I always wanted him to, but he never did.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“For what? S’not like you could’ve done anything.”

“Still.”

Asa began rubbing her thumb back and forth against his ribs, right under his left pectoral. Denji
hypothesized that Asa meant the touch as a comforting gesture, but his dick interpreted it in
another manner entirely when combined with her new praise. Denji stilled in horror when she
shifted her knee and it bumped against his painful erection. His knee jerk reaction was to apologize,
but he knew Asa would tell him not to.

“I—I can go get dressed if that makes you feel better,” Denji offered instead. He was starting to
fucking leak again. He tried to move and break the contact, but Asa held fast.

“Nah,” was her only response. “S’natural. You can though if ya need to.”

“I don’t.” Denji’s intrusive thoughts told him to grind against her knee, but there was no way in
hell that he’d do such a thing to Mitaka Asa.

“Settled, then. Let’s sleep.”

“‘Kay.”

Denji closed his eyes, but he couldn’t rest. He was too riled up despite his brain starting to hurt
from too much thinking.

“Asa?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“Denji…I wouldn’t be cuddling with you right now if I did.”

“Right.” Denji suspected that to be the case, but he needed the verbal confirmation.

“Asa?”

“Hm?”

“What kind of guy do you like?”

He had to know.

Asa was silent for a long stretch of time, to the point where Denji thought she’d fallen asleep.

“…Haven’t really thought about it before. Someone who likes to spend time with me, I guess.
Someone who’s dependable. Who I know will be there for me in the long run.”

Ah. So, not me. The guy who’ll probably be dead in a year.

Denji couldn’t be her person, even if he really, really wanted to. In his heart of hearts, Denji
suspected that was the case, but hearing it from her directly hurt in a way he didn’t expect it to. He
was glad she was holding him in a way where she couldn’t see his face. His cock deflated, leaving
him with an uncomfortable wet feeling between his legs.
“You?” Asa asked sleepily. “Is there a type of person you like?”

“Pretty. Nice. Good cook,” Denji half-lied.

Denji wanted to laugh and cry at the same time.

Asa, I like you.

In truth, Denji would’ve accepted anyone two days ago. He fell in love with random strangers he
passed by in the street on a daily basis. He talked like it had to be some hot chick, but it really
didn’t matter who they were or what they looked like. He would always briefly imagine what life
with them would be like if he was normal. They’d play video games together at his apartment and
fall asleep in each other’s arms. A nice fantasy for a boy who slept on a discolored old mattress in
an unheated shack and who’d never even touched a PlayStation or Nintendo 64.

Now? Denji was ninety-nine percent sure that Asa was the only one for him.

Yes, it was pathetic, falling so deeply in love this quickly with a girl he barely knew, but he
couldn’t help it. If he was normal and if they had met under acceptable circumstances, he’d let Asa
decide what their life together would be like by the end of the first date. If she wanted him to work,
he’d work. If she wanted him to go to university, he’d find a way to make it happen. If she wanted
him to stay at home and become a master chef and homemaker for her, he’d do it in a heartbeat. If
she wanted to get married, they could have whatever type of ceremony she liked, if she wanted one
at all. Asa’d look just as lovely in a western-style bridal gown and veil as she would in a snow
white bridal kimono and hood or headdress. He’d father her children, if she desired them, with two
working testicles. Whatever she wanted, Denji would do his best to give her. At every family
gathering, he’d tell the story of how they’d met until their kids and her relatives got sick of
listening. In their old age, he liked to imagine he’d be the type to shamelessly flirt with her in
public until she’d turn red and push him away good-naturedly on his shoulder, telling him to save it
for when they got home.

If Denji was dumber than he already thought he was, he’d tell her right now. He’d confess and ask
her to go on a date. A real date, with dinner and whatever else you did on such an occasion. But he
wasn’t that stupid. He wouldn’t ask her for such a thing because he was terrified of what her honest
answer might be to his real feelings. Besides, he had no money for such an outing. He’d accept
flowers from her, but he’d be damned if he didn’t pay for dinner on their official first date. He’d
already taken too much from her already with basically nothing to give back.

“I see. Good traits to have, I suppose.”

“Yeah.”

Another long pause ensued. Denji fought back the tears and the urge to ask more questions. He
tried to keep his breathing normal. He didn’t want to worry her. She needed her sleep for school
and work. He knew that. He needed to sleep as well, but his looming mortality kept him awake.

This could be the last time I ever see you alive.

He found himself intertwining his fingers with hers, a gesture which she didn’t resist to his relief.
He liked her hands. Slight dry, callused, and sturdy.

To his surprise, Asa was the one to ask the last question.

“If you could run away without any consequences and start a new life, what would you do?”
Ask you to run away with me. Ask you to love me.

“…Go to school,” Denji began, pushing away those thoughts. “Make friends. Eat really, really
fucking good food everyday. Steaks and shit. Stuff like that. You?” Denji finished.

“I want to finish school and get into a good university on a scholarship. I used to think about
becoming a nurse or maybe even a doctor, but I don’t know if that’s doable for me anymore. So,
maybe I’ll still do that, or maybe I’ll study something like accounting. Something with a good
enough salary where I can move to the countryside as soon as possible. Move to a rural town where
no one knows me and I can start my life over again.”

Denji was a city boy, but he wouldn’t mind going to the countryside with Asa as soon as she
theoretically asked him to. Maybe he could work honest odd jobs and help scrape up enough
money for a cabin for them to live in together. Hell, they could live in a tent in the woods, for all
he cared.

“Sounds like you’re really smart.”

“I’m really good at science and social studies, proficient at math, and pretty terrible at English and
Japanese. So alltogether, I’m not the smartest, but I’m certainly not dumb.”

Denji felt the already considerable success gap widen between them into a vast valley. Asa
deserved so much better than him, in every sense of the word.

He quickly squeezed Asa’s hand again. She squeezed his hand back in a longer, firmer, and more
confident manner. Despite the warmed room and shared body heat, Denji shivered. That physical
reassurance is what kept the little flame of hope flickering in his chest. A reminder that Asa didn’t
think he was a useless piece of shit.
 Chapter 8
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Thank you so much for your lovely responses to the previous chapter! <3 I am truly
grateful that so many of you enjoy (or tolerate) my writing style. It’s a constant work
in progress, but I strive to improve.

I’m so PUMPED for today’s chapter developments in the manga AND for the
~LEECH FIGHT~ in the anime! I hope we eat well this Tuesday.

Once again, another kinda intimate moment in this chapter, this time involving both
Denji and Asa. Nothing crazy (it’s actually pretty entertaining, I had a lot of fun
writing it), but if you want to skip it, stop after “‘Can I try something weird?’” and
resume at “Asa knew herself better…”

If all goes well, see you next week!

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

When Asa awoke to her 6:00 AM alarm, an indescribable mix of glee, worry, and horror rushed
through her system as she looked to the boy she shared her futon with.

Denji turned over since they fell asleep and pressed his face against the base of her throat. His
sleeping breaths tickled the skin above her clavicle.

He’s alive. Thank goodness.

She looked about as best she could without jostling Denji. No blood to be found.

Unless he threw it up into the sink this morning…

Asa shooed the thought from her mind. Too early. Her need to use the toilet was a cover story. She
had to make sure he was okay after she woke up to the sound of his violent coughing in the
restroom. Ah, the curse of being a light sleeper with too many thoughts swirling about in her brain.

Pochita, snoring, was still curled against the middle of her back. The devil declined to gore her in
the middle of the night with his nose. Thank you, Pochita. Asa liked waking up with her body
intact.

With both guests alive and accounted for, the unwelcomed rush of morning adrenaline left her
system only to be replaced with a hyper awareness of what happened a little less than two hours
ago. Asa did it. She brazenly held a naked guy for the first time, and she liked it. Well, except for
maybe when she accidentally kneed his dick. Denji didn’t seem to be hurt by it, so she hoped he
was okay.
Cuddling a naked person was an altogether different sensation than fully clothed cuddling, with
that feeling of only one layer of clothing separating their skin. It was hard to keep her hands from
wandering. That embarrassing feeling of wanting to touch Denji in places where she’d need
express permission to touch and study his reactions with a purely…academic eye, was strong.

I want to make him feel good, Asa realized with a hot face as she reached to turn off her alarm.
How? Her only exposure to sex and intimacy was the mandatory sex education in school, her rather
hippy parents’ oft-stated open policy on answering any of her sex-related questions so that she
wouldn’t come home pregnant, and the casual bitching that she overheard from her classmates
about their own partners. Mechanically, yes, she knew what to do and anatomically what took
place, but on an emotional level? She had no idea. Asa decidedly wasn’t ready to lose her virginity
just yet, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to be a prude until then.

With Denji’s head already on Asa’s chest, she was tempted to stroke the shells of his ears.

Would he react in his sleep?

After that first impulsive thought, Asa was quickly disgusted with herself for even thinking such a
thing.

Consent, consent, consent, she reiterated to herself. It was one of her father’s sticking points when
the topic of her growing up was breached at the dinner table.

“Always ask permission, Asa love. If your boyfriend or whatever doesn’t do the same thing, dump
him.”

Asa missed her father so much.

Instead, Asa ran her fingers through Denji’s hair. It was due for a wash, but it wasn’t overly greasy.
Denji nuzzled into the side of her neck, his slightly chapped lips pressed into her skin. Asa
suppressed laughter. A mix of “holy shit, he’s so sweet” and her own ticklish tendencies.

Asa wondered if Denji had other weird sensitive spots besides his ears. When she touched, licked,
kissed, or even lightly nibbled on those spots, how would he react? Would he keep eye contact
with her, or would he hide his face in embarrassment? How flushed could he get? Did Denji moan
when he felt good? She hoped he did. He had a great voice.

Would Denji want to be kissed on the mouth?

For some reason, that was the thought that turned her face into the deepest, blotchiest, and most
allergic reaction-looking red she could muster.

The last and only time Asa kissed a boy was when she was eight. She forgot his name, but
whatever. It was an unprompted millisecond peck on the lips while they were hanging out
afterschool on the neighborhood playground. She found out the kiss was a dare made by his school
friends the next day (he won five hundred yen and a candy bar). Asa avenged herself by tracking
him down as soon as classes got out and demanding half of the candy bar, which he gave willingly.
Well, maybe not so willingly, as she was welding her bamboo kendo practice stick at the time.

Asa didn’t want Denji’s first kiss—if it was his first—to be bad. On top of looking like a vengeful
spirit trying to pass as a highschool girl, Asa was pretty sure she’d be a bad kisser. She wasn’t
suited to be his first.

Humiliating guilt came over her. Asa was getting ahead of herself. Denji could just be tolerating
her this entire time, happy for a safe place to stay while everything was happening around him but
too polite to definitively say “no” to her advances. Playing into her projected desires for free meals
while he was at it. After all, what guy enjoyed being held as she liked holding him? She’d never
heard of such a thing among her classmates.

Asa’s mother participated in an exchange program as a sophomore, spending her second year at a
college in the United States. It was Princeton, if Asa recalled correctly, when her mother wanted to
be a wildlife biologist before she unexpectedly got pregnant with Asa as a senior. From that year,
her mother brought back with her a love of western cinema and pop culture, a love that Asa
adopted growing up. Asa recalled one movie that she watched over and over again as a child—My
Fair Lady. The story of a destitute English flower girl brought into the home of a famous phonetics
professor. Over the course of the movie, the man trained the girl to speak such excellent English
that she could pass for a proper lady at the Embassy Ball. Of course, since it was a musical, the
hardheaded professor fell in love with the clever flower girl when he realized how hardworking she
was. The ending was ambiguous, but Asa, the closeted romantic that she was, always liked to
believe they would eventually sort out their differences, come to a mutual understanding, and live
happily together.

She’d gotten herself into an almost My Fair Lady-like premise, hadn’t she? Sure, Denji was found
near a dumpster rather than on a street corner, but he was similar in some ways to Eliza Doolittle.
Coarse in speech, uneducated, and requiring a bath as soon as he arrived on her doorstep. With
enough training, food, physical grooming, and a spare high school uniform, Asa could pass Denji
as her cool but mysterious boyfriend from another school. Asa imagined the bewildered
expressions on her classmates’ faces as he’d come to pick her up from school. In this fantasy, she
relished in their confusion as she put her hand on his awaiting arm and leaned her head on his
shoulder.

Alas, Asa was no Henry Higgins. Never in her life would she force someone to be a person they
weren’t for her own selfish purposes and appearances.

Denji wrapped his arm around her waist in his sleep and slipped his foot under her ankle.

Once he can leave, you must let him go, Asa, she reminded herself as she held him tighter. She
couldn’t develop feelings for someone she’d promised to care for. What was it called? The
Florence Nightingale effect? Yeah, that was it. She couldn’t do that.

Asa ran her hand down his upper back, exploring the scarred texture of his skin. Her protective
urges reappeared as her fingers went across an exceptionally large smooth slashing scar along the
base of his shoulder blades. Her waking mind ran through the many scenarios that could have
resulted in such a scar, but she had to quiet her brain after a minute.

Asa wanted to keep holding him, but she needed to get ready for school. Reluctantly, she carefully
untangled his body from hers and sat up. She raised her arms over her head and stretched. Her
shoulders and upper back popped to her relief. The one thing about cuddling through the night is
that it had a tendency to make one sore if one got locked in an uncomfortable position. Asa found
she didn’t mind it if Denji was the one she was holding.

A grunt and a shifting body underneath the blankets alerted her to Denji emerging from his
slumber. Her moving about must’ve woken him up.

Sorry, Denji.

Asa shut off and unplugged the heater.

“Hey.”
“Hi,” Denji responded quietly.

“A real ‘good morning’ to you this time.”

Denji groaned and sat up, the comforter falling around his bare waist. “Yeah, yeah. G’morning,
Asa.”

Asa grinned. She liked how he said her name. She liked how rough his voice sounded when he was
first waking up. She also liked the concept of a naked Denji with a serious case of bedhead sitting
on her futon. He was still seriously thin, yes, but the sad, sunken-in look on his face wasn’t as
severe as it was two days ago. It made her happy to observe that. Asa wanted so badly to see what
he was like when he was nursed back to full health.

I wish I could keep you longer.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“S’okay.”

“…Planning to sleep in again today like I requested you to?”

“Yeah, I will most of the time, but…” Denji trailed off, watching Asa as she took her brush
through her hair and began twisting it into double Dutch braids. Classmates be damned, Asa spent
too much time learning how to braid. She wasn’t letting her newfound skill go to waste, especially
when she thought she looked rather cute in braids.

“‘But’ what?”

“Oh, I'm wondering about where your cleaning stuff is. Like, floor cleaner, mop, and stuff.”

“Underneath the sink in the kitchenette. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Eh?”

“Is there anywhere in the apartment you’d like me not to touch?”

Asa tied the end of one braid and started on the other before glancing over to Denji.

“No, there isn’t, but…”

“Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing.”

“...You know not to mix ammonia and chlorine, right?”

“I won’t accidentally kill myself, Asa. I promise.”

“…Okay.”

You agreed to trust him. Calm down.

“Would you like me to get stuff out for breakfast while you get ready?” Denji asked as he began
his own stretching. The comforter fell further down as he straightened his legs in front of him—
Asa averted her eyes before she saw anything she shouldn’t be looking at.
“Sure, but let me get you clothes first.”

Asa fetched a pair of new underwear, another one of her father’s shirts, and a pair of her looser
athletic shorts. They were the type of black athletic shorts that cut off dangerously high at the
upper thigh, but they were the only ones that looked big enough to fit his frame besides the ones
she gave him earlier. Asa hoped that Denji wouldn’t notice.

“Here,” she said as she put the stack of clothes on top of the quilt next to Denji, who now sat in the
tailor position. He’d covered himself again with the comforter pulled around his waist. “Need
help?”

“No, I—um, yes, actually. Can you help me?”

Denji looked up to her with an innocent expression and his pretty flush in full view. Any worries
she had about Denji and cleaning supplies were banished from her mind in an instant.

He had to know the effect he had on her by now, right? How could Asa say no to that?

“Okay.”

Asa sat across from Denji, unfolded the forest green pullover, and was about to slip it over his head
when she noticed the bruise. It was much greener than it was yesterday and was starting to shrink
ever so slightly, to her immense relief. She set the shirt down, scooted much closer to the point
where their knees nearly touched if not for the covers, and lightly pressed her hand against the
mark right above the small of his waist.

So skinny.

“Looks like your bruise is healing well.”

Asa ran her fingers over it.

“Yeah?”

His gooseflesh erupted under her fingertips as Denji leaned slightly forward into her touch.

“Yes, this is much better.” She put the slightest amount of weight possible down on it. “Does it still
hurt?”

Denji made a soft noise in the back of his throat, but managed to get out a quiet “Barely.”

“Glad to hear.” Asa said, nodding in a clinical manner as she went to kneel.

Denji pressed his palm down between his legs under the comforter.

“Good—” Asa began thoughtlessly in a slightly teasing, but genuine tone.

“‘Boy’?” Denji asked, completing the term of endearment.

“...I was going for ‘job,’” Asa lied in a poor attempt to cover her ass.

“I like ‘boy’ better,” Denji confessed. He extended his legs on either side of Asa’s thighs and
inched closer to her.

“You do?”
“Yeah. You can say it.”

“‘Good boy,’ then.” Asa said lightly as she looked from the bruise up into his face.

Fuck.

He’d brought his face close to hers. If she’d been more reckless in her movement, their faces
would’ve collided in a manner that would’ve hurt. Denji made heavy-lidded eye contact with Asa
for all of two seconds before his good eye flitted down to her mouth. He gave a little wistful sigh as
he did so. Asa nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at his dark eyelashes.

“Can you say it again?” Denji asked.

“…Good boy,” Asa responded, saying the words a little lower in her register this time. At this non-
existent distance, Asa could hear his rapid heartbeat.

“Can I try something weird?” Denji asked timidly, but not backing away from this newfound
closeness. His breath was warm on her face. He smelled pleasant too. Just his natural, but not dirty,
smell combined with her body wash.

Fuuuuuck.

Denji had no right to be as cute as he was.

“How weird?”

“Not…super weird? I…I don’t know, actually,” he admitted.

“Make it quick.”

Why’d I agree to it so easily?

“‘Kay.”

Denji covered her hand resting on his ribs with his free one and trailed her hand up his side,
stopping over his pectoral and pressing her fingers down firmly against it. His body began
trembling as he did so. Concern bubbled up in Asa’s chest. Should I stop?

“Denji…”

“Please,” Denji begged, almost into her mouth. “I need it.” He pulled her closer with his legs.

Holy shit, he’s strong.

Asa nearly fell on top of him, but with some finagling she managed to keep them both sitting up
straight.

His voiced necessity set an anxiety-fueled fire to Asa’s brain.

Hah? Need what? My hands?

Asa looked down at her hand against his chest as best she could without bumping faces.

Shouldn’t he want to touch my boobs?

In reality, Denji’s pectorals, as flat as they were, were not much smaller than her own chest. Asa
was an A-cup, and not an impressive one at that.

Can a guy’s chest be played with like a woman’s? That wasn’t a question answered in her sex ed
class.

“…Alright.”

Do you just…grope? Or is it more delicate than that? Asa’s own chest wasn’t very sensitive in her
admittedly limited experimentation, so she didn’t know for sure.

Asa’s mind went blank as she dumbly ran her thumb across his hard nipple. With a gasp, Denji’s
entire body jerked. His hand fell away from hers as he rolled his shoulders back and fully presented
his small chest to her, arching his back a bit as he did so. He looked intoxicated.

Wow.

Asa hated how much she liked his response. Was he always this reactive to being touched like
this?

Denji's breath hitched in his throat as he made the briefest eye contact with her before his gaze
went back down to her mouth.

“You…you like being touched here?”

“Mhm...”

“In words, please.”

Denji swallowed loudly.

“I like it a lot,” Denji said more clearly in his rough morning voice. As he breathed out, Asa could
taste the mint on his breath from her toothpaste.

Okay. If it makes you feel good, I’ll gladly do it for you.

Asa lightly rubbed her thumb around his areola. It was a clumsy motion, but it didn’t seem to
matter. With how close he was in proximity, she listened closely to all of the little noises he tried in
vain to suppress. Pretty seemed too demeaning of a word to describe his utterances, but it was the
only word that rattled about in Asa’s scattered thoughts. He bit down on the meat of his inner
cheek as his sight flitted to her hand and then back to her face. Asa smiled.

So, this is another sensitive spot? Cute. Cute, cute, cute.

Asa tried to pay no attention to how his hand moved slightly underneath the covers, but she
noticed. If she could unabashedly have her way with him, she’d make him do that uncovered. She
wanted to see how he pleasured himself.

What does Denji look like when he comes undone? She wanted to know that too. There were so
many things she wanted to know about him, both in terms of intimacy and otherwise.

If…if I kissed him now…

Asa felt herself leaning in millimeters closer to his lips before her rational brain caught up with
her.

I’ve grossly overstepped my boundaries.

Devil Hunters and debt shark gang members were after this boy, she reminded herself. She
promised him a safe place and food for a couple of days while things died down. Nothing else. He
didn’t need the burden of his hostess’ developing affections.

Asa didn’t want to potentially get into a life-threateningly dangerous situation by associating with
him more than she already had. She needed to back out while she still could.

Regretfully, Asa leaned back slightly and pressed the tip of her nose against the side of his nostril
instead. His nose was cold against hers as she rubbed her fingers against his chest one last time,
pinching lightly before letting go.

I’m sorry.

Asa knew herself better than anyone else did. At school and at work, Asa tried to pretend like she
didn’t have all these feelings inside of her, including the overwhelming and compulsive need to
care for someone beyond herself and maybe, just maybe, have someone respond in kind. She didn’t
have anyone to do that for. Sure, Asa had some acquaintances, but no one she’d consider a real
friend, even among her extended family.

Except for Denji. He had accepted every single ounce of the meager affection and care that she’d
thrown down at his feet. He was the closest person she could almost consider a friend since she’d
isolated herself from her already splintering childhood friend group after her parents’ deaths. Denji,
without questions, criticisms, or conditions, had so far indulged her in a way that she’d never
dreamed of having. A sweet and kind guy to come home to and maybe even kiss if she wanted to.
Heck, Asa could almost imagine him as something more than a friend.

Yep, it was clear. If she nurtured this little part of her heart and let these feelings of tenderness for
Denji grow into something more, she wouldn’t be able to let him go.

I’m so sorry.

Denji made a confused yet needy noise before going silent as she went to hold his chin. Asa rubbed
her nose, alternating sides, against his. One, two, three, four, five times. When she was done, Asa
pressed her forehead against his and asked Denji a really dumb question.

“Are you cold?”

“…Yeah, a little.”

Whatever held them in the trance broke. Asa’s hand went to her side and she sat back on her heels.
Denji removed his hand from his groin.

“Let’s get your clothes on then.”

“‘Kay,” Denji’s shoulders slumped. He gave her his usual close-lipped smile, but the expression
didn’t reach his eye.

Asa tried to keep a placid face, but inside she was barely keeping her heart from breaking.

I want to so badly, but I can’t.

It was easy enough to put his shirt on this time. When his face popped out of the neck hole, Asa
tried to lighten the mood with her own smile. His hair was so unwieldy.

“I don’t know which one of us has crazier hair this morning. You or me?” Asa asked as if whatever
that was hadn’t happened.

“I think I do,” Denji said quietly as he allowed the skinship required for her to pull his arms
through the shirt. The motion didn’t seem too uncomfortable for him now.

“I’m a close second place, I think.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

“…I’m gonna go change. You’re able to get the rest of your clothes on by yourself, right?”

“I think I can.”

“Good, I’ll meet you at the table.”

Asa got ready in a hurry and ran out into the partitioned living room. Denji, fully clothed and with
the quilt draped around his shoulders, sat on his cushion by the chabudai. He’d laid out a stack of
dishes, knives, napkins, bread, honey, and the two jams she bought yesterday.

Asa glanced at her watch. She wanted to sit down with him for breakast, but after the…incident
this morning, she was about to miss the bus.

“I’ll need breakfast to go.”

“…That’s fine. Tell me what you want.”

“Plum jam, please.”

“Got it.”

Denji prepared Asa’s untoasted bread while she scurried about getting her schoolwork and lunch
together. She should’ve done this all last night.

“Denji, make sure to lock everything once I’m gone.”

“Got it.”

“All three locks, and don’t open the door for anyone.”

“Right.”

“Do you think you can fend for lunch and dinner if you need to eat before I get back?

”I think so.”

“If you watch something, make sure to keep the noise down. The remote’s on top of the
television.”

“Cool. Your bread’s ready.” Denji held out her breakfast on a napkin.

Asa rushed over and gathered the bread from Denji. She took a big bite. He’d absolutely slathered
the bread with a thick layer of jam. A breakfast that was nearly fifty percent sugared fruit and fifty
percent whole wheat bread.

Excellent.
“Hmm, thanks,” she said with her mouth full. “Perfect amount of topping.”

Denji’s face brightened a little bit, a sight that she was grateful for.

“I gotta go,” Asa continued, heading for the door to shrug on her coat. “Stay low, alright?”

“Wait—Asa, the thing that you did to me this morning? With your nose?” Denji asked as he stood
and hurried over to her before she could grab her breakfast that she put on the desk and open the
door.

Asa’d stomach clenched. “Yep? What about it?”

“What’s it called?”

Asa slung her bookbag over her shoulder. “My…my father called them ‘bunny kisses.’”

Why was that term so embarrassing to say that out loud?

“What do they mean?”

Oh no. Asa fixed her bookbag’s straps as she struggled with the best way to word it.

“…When you care about someone, you can tell them that in the form of a bunny kiss.”

Denji’s flush reappeared and his eye sparkled despite a bashful expression.

“Oh…can I do it to you?”

What? Why?

“Sure,” she found herself saying instead.

“‘Kay.”

Denji stood in front of her, looking indecisive about how he wanted to make this happen. Finally,
he pulled Asa into a quilt-enveloping hug, carefully placing his hands in the middle of her back. It
was an awkward hug, as if he had forgotten how to embrace another human. Oh well. Asa hugged
him back, wrapping her arms around his neck. Denji made an unabashedly happy sound at her
unprompted touch.

Denji held her to his chest for a moment. Asa felt his heartbeat erratically hammer in his chest as
he pulled back with a very serious expression. He seemed to prepare himself before leaning down
and pressing the very tip of his nose against hers. One, two, three, four, five. He rubbed a little
harder than she had, but the contact was like tiny electric sparks directly to Asa’s soul. He pulled
back with a shy, but proud expression on his face as he held her hands between them.

“…Did I do it right?”

“Excellent job,” Asa responded. Her face must be red as a tomato.

“Good.”

Denji hesitantly let go of her fingers. Asa retrieved her breakfast.

“I’ll see you after work?” Denji asked.

 “Correct. I’ll be home around nine.”

“Okay. Be safe.”

“I’ll try.”

Chapter End Notes

Ah, yes, the chapter in which Asa grabs a titty. I must admit, I didn’t expect Denji’s
malewife/house husband tendencies to be as strong as they are turning out to be when I
was initially writing the outline for the fic. I confess, it’s a favorite trope of mine. I
love emotionally available love interests, especially in my fanfiction when there
sometimes doesn’t seem to be enough of them. However, I think a good argument can
be made that canon Denji could be a fantastic house spouse and possible stay-at-home
dad as an adult with the right partner.
 Chapter 9
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Y’all ready for Chainsaw Man Tuesday? After an exceptionally long week, I definitely
am!

Fun fact: Akoku Seigi from Chapter 107 is probably an Agni from Fire Punch cameo,
but in the CSM universe.

Also! If you live in the US, make sure to vote in the midterm elections today if you
haven’t already! <3

Best,
Lady

“Hey.”

Asa looked up from her notebook. She’d been working on this multi-step math problem for the
past ten minutes, and she hadn’t gotten further than two steps in. With fifteen minutes before the
school day ended, Asa wanted to get her homework completed before work. Why? Easy. Denji
waited for her at the apartment. Asa didn’t want to spend a single minute on anything else once she
got home other than giving him attention. The random interruption while she was deep in thought
was bone-achingly irritating.

“May I help you?” Asa put on her friendliest waitress expression, only to look up and see a
somewhat familiar male student standing over her desk awkwardly.

Ah, yes. Him.

Akoku Seigi.

That guy.

Asa felt her smile fade. She met Akoku Seigi when they were five. Their mothers took them to the
same neighborhood playgroup. As a kid, he was obsessed with devils. Always playing with plastic
devil figurines in the sandbox and refusing to let her touch them. He only cared about two things:
damn devils and his little sister. “Una,” or something like that.

The Hell Devil with its unnatural, rhinoceros centaur-like stature was his favorite. The Hell Devil,
even in its plastic figurine form, was also the devil that scared Asa the most. It was something to
do with the lack of eyes it had, she decided. Asa routinely avoided the sandbox when he had it out.
Akoku discovered this particular fear after Asa confessed it to one of their mutual “friends.” What
did he do with that information? Chased her around the playground with his plastic figure, of
course.

They’d been going to the same schools since they were in kindergarten. He hadn’t given a shit
about her since grade school. Once they hit puberty, he began ignoring her very existence, despite
her numerous attempts early on to be friendly.

Now as a sixteen-year-old, Akoku was simply too big for a high schooler. Tall, wide-shouldered,
and broad chested yet still kinda gangly in his own way. It didn’t help how stiffly he held himself
when he sat, nor how he walked like someone had recently shoved a stick up his ass. He was also
dumb as a brick, and not in an endearing way. Fitting, really. A perfect representative for the Devil
Hunter Club.

“Are you doing anything for the festival on Sunday?” he asked.

Asa set her mechanical pencil down. School stuff not related to academics didn’t concern her. Asa
simply tuned it out whenever the class president or one of the reps started chattering about it
during announcements. She didn’t realize, nor did she care, that the school festival was this week.

“No, why?” Asa asked in a flat manner.

“Oh. Since everyone is pairing up and stuff, I was wondering…would you like to go with me?”

She’d dreamt of being asked out by a boy before, complete with a blush-filled confession and
maybe flowers. A date from basically any boy other than Akoku Seigi.

“Say, Akoku…what’s my name?”

“Uh, your name?”

Tell me, I dare you.

His eyes darted about wildly as he looked for something—anything—on her desk that might give
him a clue. Asa closed her notebook and flipped it to its back cover to make it a challenge. She
wasn’t surprised, but it still hurt when he couldn’t be bothered to give her an answer. Asa blinked
rapidly before the burn could set in.

“Who put you up to this? Furio? The prez?” she asked.

“No…no one did.”

“Hah? I doubt that.”

The boy gave an uneasy grin full of crooked teeth.

“Why’d you ask me out?” Asa continued.

“‘Cause you looked like you might be available.”

Asa tried her best to hold her tongue. If she was a more reckless human being, she knew the exact
answer she’d give.

“Sorry, I’m not ‘available’ in the least. My boyfriend is waiting for me at home. We’re doing a
twenty-four hour movie marathon on Sunday, so I can't come to the festival even if I wanted to.”

Instead, Asa settled with, “Really?”

Akoku shuffled his feet. “Okay, fine. You got me, I was lying. Some good-looking tall guy in
another class told me you didn’t have a date yet.”

Eh?
Asa ran through the guys that she saw on a regular basis. It would be a stretch to call any of them
good-looking.

“What was his name?”

“Dunno.”

“…You don’t know it?”

“Never been too good with names.”

“Then how’d he refer to me? Can you answer that?”

Akoku looked like he wanted to crawl out of his skin.

“‘The girl who sits in the back of your class with the resting bitch face.’”

Asa’s chest tightened.

“You’re asking me out because I’m the last person without a date?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.”

“Well…I’m not interested.”

Asa stood, collected her stuff, and walked towards the door.

“Let me know if you change your mind,” he called after her.

Asa didn’t answer him.

She avoided looking at her curious classmates as she hurried past them in the hallway. She dabbed
at her eyes with the long sleeve of her winter school uniform as a mix of humiliation and spine-
curling fear churned away in her stomach. Humiliation for being asked out by Akoku Seigi of all
people. Fear for the identity of who this good-looking guy might be.

Could he be associated with Devil Hunters? Asa fervently hoped he wasn’t.

Her hope was short-lived. Two hours into her slow waitressing shift after school, Asa spied the old
wannabe rockabilly Devil Hunter. He wasn’t sitting at his usual spot at the counter, instead sitting
at a booth with a young man in her school’s uniform. The young man rested both arms on the back
of the booth. As she approached them with the intention of wiping down the now empty booth two
doors down, the young man turned his head to look at her. Soft black hair, effortlessly styled,
numerous piercings in his ears, a beauty mark by his mouth, and deep brown eyes. Conventionally
handsome.

“Good looking.”

He seemed to be unusually long-limbed, having to cram himself into the booth like that.

“Tall.”

A guy with those looks and height would stand out like a sore thumb at Fourth East, and Asa
didn’t recognize him at all.
As he stared at her, Asa noticed how she couldn’t differentiate between his iris and pupil at this
distance. Just a blackened, dead stare. She wanted nothing to do with this boy.

“Waitress, over here please,” the rockabilly-looking Devil Hunter called out for her.

Asa, with the coffeepot bravely in hand, made her way over though her heart dropped into her
shoes. She broke eye contact with the boy and looked to his older companion. Despite having sat
there for nearly an hour, neither of them had ordered food. They chose instead to nurse their coffee
mugs.

“How can I help you?”

Asa filled up their now empty mugs to their very brims. The stream of brown liquid wobbled,
betraying her nerves. It was a miracle, but she didn’t spill.

“My partner can’t decide what to order today,” the old Devil Hunter said. Today he dressed in a
standard uniform benefiting that of a Public Safety Devil Hunter.

The old man brought more copy paper with notes written on it. Asa’s eyes went instinctively to the
first page as he tapped on it with his pointer finger.

Good news: All is going according to plan concerning the boss. Keep your dog until next
Wednesday. She’ll be thrown off the trail by then.

Asa felt a tremendous sense of relief. “Would you like breakfast or lunch for your meal?”

“Lunch, please,” the young man responded as he turned to the second page for the older man. This
note was in different handwriting than the first. Much smaller and much neater characters.

Bad news: Your dog’s debt sharks are starting to sniff around for him. They don’t know where
he is, and we’ll make sure to keep it that way as long as you have him.

“The hamburger is good,” Asa began nonchalantly, “especially with onions, tomato, and pickles.”

“Sounds like what I want,” the boy replied.

Asa couldn’t take notes this time, her hands were so unsteady. She drew spirals with her pen
instead.

The rockabilly Devil Hunter turned the page. The next page had the same handwriting as the first
page.

My partner tried to pull them off. No luck. Wouldn’t take the money, said something about
respect and values. Dog’s dead meat. Sorry, but it’s how it goes.

“Would you like a side of fries with that?” Asa asked as she read the note three times to make sure
she hadn’t misunderstood the message. Asa forced her composure to stay nice and placid, though
her interior was anything but.

“Yes, please,” the young man said with an easygoing smile of perfect white teeth. He flipped the
page over to the last page before pushing his hair out of his eyes. It was the small handwriting
again.

Don’t get too attached. Focus on other things if you can.

Too late, Asa wanted to scream.

“Anything else?”

“That’s it.”

“Got it. Your order will be ready in less than fifteen minutes.”

Asa felt the boy’s eyes follow her frame as she turned on her heel and walked away.

Asa pulled her jacket tightly about her as she hurried up her apartment complex’s starwell. It was
dreadfully cold, much colder than she expected the weather to get. She wondered if they were due
for some snow and made a mental note to check the weather channel.

Asa glanced at her watch. It was 9:05—she was five minutes late getting home. After she exited
the stairwell, Asa looked this way and that for the forsaken bird that wouldn’t stop bothering her.
With not a single living soul seemingly occupying the open air second floor hallway, Asa dashed
to her apartment. She unlocked her door, opened it just wide enough to slip in sideways with her
bookbag on, and closed it behind her.

The apartment, as always, was only a touch warmer than outside when the weather got like this.
Ah, the sacrifices she made to have an attached washroom in her apartment.

As she locked all three of the apartment locks behind her, Asa noticed her hamper full of dirty
laundry set next to the door, a full plastic bag on top of the hamper, a full garbage bag beside it,
and the lemony scent of floor cleaner in the air.

“I’m home!” Asa announced loudly as she put her bookbag on its hook.

“Welcome back!”

Denji, still wrapped up in her mother’s favorite quilt, was upon her in seconds with Pochita at his
heels.

He opened his quilt-covered arms to hug her before faltering, hesitation clear on his face.

“It’s okay! Come here.” Asa put the keys on the table next to the door, opened her arms wide, and
beckoned him to her with both hands.

Denji’s face lit up as he quickly embraced her with enthusiasm, slouching down to tuck his head
under her chin. Asa rubbed the back of his head as she hugged him back. His lovely blond hair was
cool and damp. He smelled freshly of her shampoo. Asa wondered if he’d just taken a shower. She
ran her hands through the crooked curls near his hair whorl that developed as a result.

Denji was warm, alive, and in her arms now, but by next Wednesday? She didn’t know if the Devil
Hunters meant “dead meat” figuratively or literally. Either way, she was scared.

Denji’s arms shook slightly around her and Asa could feel his unsteady breaths against her chest.

“Denji…?”

“…Hm?”

“What’s on your mind?”

“…Just happy you’re home and not hurt,” he admitted.

Home. Hearing the word from Denji’s lips put a knife in Asa’s gut and tears in her eyes.

I want to keep you so badly.

“I’m happy that you’re not hurt either.” Asa blinked rapidly and felt the tears subside.

“…I am too.”

“Also, you don’t have to ask to hug me when I come back to the apartment,” Asa said as they
finally broke apart. She studied his face, taking in the curve of his mouth while she still could.
“You can just do it. I like your hugs.”

“‘Kay.”

Denji hesitated again, averting his eye.

“Can I…?”

“Can you what?”

The flush told Asa all that she needed to know.

“…Can I give you a bunny kiss?” He said it shyly, fully aware of how silly the name was. Like
almost every word that came out of his mouth, Asa thought it was precious.

“You don’t have to ask me to do that either.”

“…‘Kay.”

Denji took her face in his strong hands, prepared himself mentally, and rubbed their noses together.
One, two, three. Gentler this time. He was a fast learner.

I don’t want anything other than this, Asa thought intrusively. Akoku Seigi could go eat dirt, for
all she cared.

When they pulled back, Denji hastily rubbed his eyes with the back of the quilt and gave a heaving
sigh. When he looked back at Asa, his eye was shiny with unshed tears.

“How was your day?” Asa asked before the emotions became too much.

“…Slept a bit, like you asked me to.”

“You seem like you were busier than that!” Asa exclaimed as she pulled off her shoes and set them
by his trainers at the door. She’d made a solid effort to clean before Denji arrived, but the type of
clean she currently observed was that of a non-depressed neat freak.

“S’nothing, really. Just got bored,” Denji explained, though the proud but cheeky close-mouthed
smile betrayed his words.

“What did you do?”

“Cut my nails, showered, washed dishes, scrubbed down the bathroom, dusted what I could reach,
freshened up the tatami mats, wiped down the fridge, and reorganized the cabinets.”
“That’s not ‘nothing,’” Asa retorted in a gently teasing tone.

“You get to deal with the laundry and taking out the trash,” Denji said as he smirked good-
naturedly.

“That’s barely anything!”

“I know! I meant for it to be that way!”

“Well, thank you. Really, I’m being honest.”

“You’re lucky that’m trying here. Imma slob in real life.”

“Well, I wouldn’t know it. You haven't shown that side of yourself to me yet, have you?”

“You’re not gonna see it, ever.”

“I won’t pry, then.”

Asa reached out and took his hand, leading him back to where he was sitting at the chabudai. His
hand was cool in hers and Asa’s gut reaction was to warm him up.

“Oh, I want to let you know that I borrowed and am wearing a pair of your socks,” Denji remarked
hastily as they approached the low table.

“That’s fine.”

The television was angled towards the table and was turned to the shopping network. The pretty
hostess with long eyelashes and willowy limbs showed off a weight loss exercise suit that looked to
be made out of crinkly silver foil. She excitedly talked about the product at a very low volume as
she turned the outfit this way and that, demonstrating the zippers as she did.

Asa saw the pile of fabric. He’d effectively made a…nest of every dry warm thing in the apartment
on top of his cushion at the table. Three quilts, one kinda itchy knitted wool throw made by Asa’s
great-grandmother, her father’s holey serape blanket that was frequently used over a plastic tarp for
picnics, the third pair of sheets, the biggest hoodie she owned, and even the lumpy futon comforter.

As Asa looked at it and looked back at Denji, she noticed his entire body stiffen.

“I—I didn’t want to use the heater while ya were gone.”

“Denji, the blankets are there for a reason—you can use them for their intended purpose. I don’t
mind. I also don’t mind you using the heater if you need it.”

“But you said it was expensive—“

“I don’t mind spending the money,” Asa added firmly as she took his hand and pulled him closer to
her.

“Huh?”

“Do you remember what I said this morning?” Asa asked as they stood nearly chest to chest with
her hand still holding his. She had to look up to stare in his face at this angle.

“Cold showers, three minutes only.”

“…Besides that. Do you remember what else I said? Why am I okay spending the money?” Asa
went to hold his other free hand in hers.

“Why?” Denji almost breathed, speaking barely above a whisper.

He had to know, right?

“I said ‘cause you’re worth it.’”

“...Me?”

“Who else?”

Denji’s face crumpled.

“Say it.” Asa wanted to hear it from him.

Denji hesitated.

“Want to say it together?”

Denji nodded.

“I’m…” Asa began.

“—I’m…”

“Worth…”

“—Worth…”

“It.”

“...It.”

“Say it again?” Asa asked gently in an encouraging tone.

“...I’m…worth it.”

“Correct.” Asa pressed their foreheads briefly together before breaking apart. Denji tensed his jaw
as he quietly began to weep. Asa’s heart spasmed with tenderness as she wiped the wetness away
with her bare fingers.

“Get comfortable. I’ll go get the heater.”

“‘Kay.”

Asa set up the heater right beside the chabudai and turned it onto its highest setting. Sleepy heat
eventually filled the evening air, making Asa feel drowsy.

“Can I join you?” Asa asked Denji, who had taken the time to bury himself under the pile of cloth
he’d made earlier.

“Yeah, sure.” He looked at her with a kind, slightly red rimmed eye.

Asa pulled the biggest quilt—a monstrous jean quilt with flannel cloth backing—from the pile and
wrapped it around herself. She sat down in her cocoon and leaned against the comforter-covered
frame of Denji. Denji reached around her and put his comforter covered-arm around her shoulders,
pulling her to himself. Asa obliged him happily, deciding finally to lay down and plop her head in
his lap. Pochita curled up against her knees with a dog-like sigh. Asa tucked the quilt around him
so that his head poked out.

“Wanna go change into something more comfortable?” Denji asked, interrupting the shopping
channel lady. “Dresses can’t be that comfortable, can they?”

“I’ll change in a bit, but you’re right. Dresses usually suck.” Asa was too tired to pull off her work
uniform. The lady was now showing off a pair of plastic chopsticks with a miniature clip-on fan
attached at such an angle as to allow the fan to cool off hot ramen noodles.

“‘Kay.”

“Denji?”

“Hm?”

“Can I change the channel?”

“Of course.” Denji rummaged around the sheets and found the remote, handing it over to Asa.

“Thanks.”

Asa switched it to the weather channel. She’d changed it just in time for the good-looking older
anchor with salt and pepper hair to begin going over the weekly forecast.

Asa was right. They expected non-stop snow until Monday. It looked like the weekend was going
to be miserable.

“Denji?”

“Hm?”

“I know I said ‘a few days,’ but would…would you like to stay here a little longer?”

“...How long?”

“With the weather being so bad and all…maybe until next Wednesday?”

A full week, and Asa knew it wouldn’t be enough time.

“Was thinking it could be fun to do a movie marathon or something. I could get popcorn and hot
chocolate.”

“If…if you don’t mind me sticking around, sure.”

“I have a half day tomorrow at school and no work for the next two days. We’ll have plenty of time
for movies if you want to do that.”

“Movies sound fun.”

“Do you have a favorite type of movie?”

“Nah, never got into movies.”

“...Have you ever watched a movie?”

Asa was about to apologize when Denji finally answered. “Only the ones they played on TV in the
afternoon. Never actually went to the movie theatre or anything—I’m happy watching whatever
you want to watch.”

“Okay. I’ll stop by the rental place tomorrow and get a bunch of tapes and snacks.”

“I…I’m looking forward to what you pick out.”

“I’ll get some classics that I love, but I’ll also get some that I’ve never seen before. Sounds good?”

“Yeah.”

Asa did the mental calculation. They could probably comfortably fit in at least five longer movies.
Five movies wouldn't be too out of her budget.

“...Asa?”

“Yes?”

“Between the movies…could we cook something together too?”

“Sure.”

Anything for you.

 Chapter 10
Chapter Notes

Hello!

It’s CHAINSAW MAN TUESDAY! >:D Time for the Eternity Devil Fight in the
anime AND maybe for some questions to be answered in the manga.

I really love the voice cast and vocal direction for CSM! It’s cool that the mains are all
relative newcomers AND that they are treating delivery more like live action stuff.
Power’s VA is by far my favorite (Ai Fairouz is hella talented).

Thank you again for your lovely comments, kudos, and bookmarks! They honestly do
feed my soul and keep my enthusiasm high for this fic! None of these are ever
mandatory, but they are always very much welcomed.

I hope you have a very lovely day!

Best,
Lady

Denji and Asa ate a light dinner that night of salty flat biscuits, fragrant Hokuto apples, and white
cheddar cheese. Something easy that didn’t require much preparation or cleanup.

Denji had never tasted cheese before. It was worth the money to see his eyes light up as he chewed
his first bite.

“Good?”

“‘Mazing,” he mumbled through a mouth of cheese and biscuit.

They stayed up a while longer. Asa no longer felt like awkward silences filled the room with him
quiet in her presence. Denji watched more infomercials about wacky hack inventions from his
blanket nest while Asa regretfully finished the math problem she wasn’t able to complete at
school. As Asa reviewed some literature notes before putting her schoolwork away, she found
herself glancing over to him every couple of minutes to make sure that he was still there. Denji
moved once to use the washroom and brush his teeth, but otherwise stayed put. His attention was
transfixed to the television as he petted Pochita who laid beside him.

It was too late to go down to the apartment complex’s coin laundry machine units on the first floor,
but it was probably a good idea to set the burnable garbage out for collection. If it sat around for
too long, the apartment would start to smell off.

“Time to take garbage out,” Asa announced as she stood to go to the door.

“Eeh? It’s dark.”

“It’s well lit to where I need to go. Stay put.”

Denji disobeyed her request. He stood up, pulled the quilt around his shoulders, and went to Asa as
she grabbed the semi-transparent trash bag, threw it over her shoulder, and grabbed her keys.

“Just here to lock the door as soon as you leave,” Denji said quietly. He reached out and tucked a
stray piece of hair behind her ear.

Asa watched as his cheeks turned pink and he averted his eyes. Such a sweet trait was to be
treasured in her opinion.

“I’ll be right back,” Asa promised.

Asa slipped out the door and heard the locks from the inside before she could lock it herself. After
Asa scanned her surroundings for the urutau, she wasted no time hurrying down to the collection
area for the apartment complex. In her haste, she’d again forgotten to slip on a coat or something
equally warm. Hazy white condensation filled the air with each pant.

As soon as she got to the bottom of the stairwell and turned the corner, she saw him.

He was there waiting for her. The tall pretty boy customer with the feathery black hair from her
afternoon shift. The overhead street lamp illuminating the dumpster area made a halo of light
around his head.

Two visits in a single long day? Asa began to sweat. She wasn’t sure she could mentally handle a
second visit.

“Yo.” The boy addressed her without so much as a glance in her direction. He held his own bag of
trash in his right hand, but he didn’t seem to be in any rush to throw it away. Asa looked up into his
face suspiciously as she tossed her own bag in the light blue open-mouthed dumpster.

“Do I know you?” Asa asked curtly, crossing her arms and making pointed eye contact. With
someone she cared for so deeply at stake, Asa found that she could stamp down some of her
extreme shyness that she often had around stupidly hot guys her age.

“Nope, and I intend to keep it that way.” He threw his trash in after hers.

Asa’s eyes went down to his clothes. He wore an obviously expensive pair of black baggy pants
paired with a loose long sleeve V-neck shirt of the same color. Almost crow fashion-like. Creepy.

Go away, she mentally pleaded to him. Go away and never come back.

“Do you live in the complex?”

Maybe he’s just moved in?

The guy shrugged noncommittally.

“Do you live nearby?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

Ugh. Asa wasn’t going to get anything concrete out of this guy, was she?

“Why are you here?”

“Trash pickup’s tomorrow, right?”

Asa gritted her teeth. Fine. If he couldn’t give answers to personal questions, she’d ask questions
that she actually wanted answers to.

“I was asked out by a boy for the first time in my life today.”

“Oh? Congrats.”

“Are…are you worried that I’m spending too much time with my dogs?”

“I’m not worried about it, but my old man is. What my old man says is the law in my book.”

“The boy who asked me out liked to terrorize me when we were five. Chased me around the
playground with an action figure.”

The boy’s mouth twisted into an expression that sort of resembled sympathy, but it looked wrong
on his placid face. Asa hated everything about it.

“I’m sorry to hear that. He thought it might help. It’s important for a good-looking girl like you to
have a social life, isn’t it?”

Asa snorted as she felt herself blush.

“You flatter me.”

The boy stuffed his hands deep into his pockets and shrugged again. Asa made up her mind to ask
one more personal question as well.

“Do…do you go to my school?”

“Touring it. Might transfer next year.”

It didn’t explain the situation with him wearing her school’s uniform, but Asa was heartened a little
by a personal answer that sounded more or less genuine. She picked up enough courage to ask one
particular question that she kept close to her heart. The one that if she didn’t ask now, she might
never know.

“I have a question for you and your old man.”

“Shoot, but no guarantees on an answer.” Asa despised his smirk.

“My stray dogs…do I have to take them to the shelter on Wednesday? Surely I can keep them for
longer than that.”

“Not advised. We both know you can’t afford either of them on a part-time waitress salary.”

“I can find a different job.”

“Hm, you could, but it’s not advisable. You managed to get an exemption from school for this one,
didn’t you? A little bird also told me that you’re paid extra under the table. Doubt you could find a
better paying gig with as flexible hours as your boss gives you.”

The young man was right. The fact that he knew that information about her freaked Asa out.

“I’m…I’m really worried about the bigger one. Could…could you take him with you and keep him
safe for me? You have connections, right?”
The boy laughed. Peals of laughter rang through the air. Asa felt her face turn red with the cold and
the humiliation.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh,” he said as he dabbed the corners of his eyes with his thumb,
“but really think about it. What use would I have for a mangy mutt like him?”

Asa’s stomach dropped as she scrambled to answer the stranger. If setting him to work was the
only way to keep him safe, Denji could be a good Devil Hunter, couldn’t he?

“He’s strong and obedient. Smart enough to follow orders well. With enough nutrition and positive
reinforcement, I’m sure he’d be a perfect fit for someone you know.”

“I work while going to school too, same as you. I have no time, and my old man certainly has no
time to train a sick puppy.”

“Do…do you have any friends who could take him?”

“Pretty miss, absolutely none of my associates have room for a pet right now.”

“Surely some—”

“My old man is doing all of this for you as a favor. He took pity on you for some damn reason that
I cannot fathom. Do not take his generosity for granted.”

You’re the government, aren’t you? Asa thought viciously. The government is supposed to take
care of vulnerable people like him. But of course you don’t. They make you no money.

“To be frank with you?” the boy queried when he got no response. “My old man only cares about
the pug. He doesn’t give a shit about your crippled pye-dog.”

The boy stopped talking and cocked his head to the side, waiting—daring for Asa to say
something. Asa fisted the fabric of her waitressing dress in her hands as she tried to keep her
emotions in check.

“If…if the shelter deems him unadoptable and euthanizes him, I don’t know what I’ll do with
myself.”

As she spoke, the wind picked up around them, causing her skirt to whip about her legs. She
pushed the fabric down to keep it secure around her knees.

“...What can I say to that?” the kid said, raising his voice to be audible over the rushing wind.
“You’re the one who decided to adopt both dogs in the first place.”

“...Is there nothing you can do?”

“Think of it in another way. You will accidentally set him loose on Wednesday. With luck, he’ll
get killed before animal control officers find him. Any death he encounters on the streets will
probably be quicker than a gas chamber at the shelter.”

That comment broke the camel’s back. Asa felt the emotional dam she was trying to keep whole
burst. A few humiliating tears came forth. The boy continued to watch her emotionlessly.

“You…you can leave now,” Asa spit out.

The young man took a step closer to her. Asa felt herself puff up like a scared cat.
“If you come any closer, I will scream and I will hurt you,” she growled. It was an empty threat. He
could easily snap her neck if he wanted to. She saw it in his eyes.

Instead, he harmlessly threw up his hands.

“You have ‘til Wednesday morning at eight o’clock. No more, no less. Enjoy your stray puppies
while you can.”

Asa turned when the boy called out one more time to her.

“Miss Mitaka?”

He knew her name. Asa didn’t look back.

“If you see a dark-haired woman with an eyepatch over her right eye or a young man with black
hair, blue eyes, and a stupid-looking skinny top knot…abandon your dogs and run as far away from
here as fast as you can. If…” the boy’s mask cracked as he looked about, “if you see a woman with
ringed eyes and red hair…you’re fucked.”

Asa sort of kept it together until she stood in front of her apartment door, but her body trembled and
she felt like she was going to trip any second.

The customer who gave her a business card…was she the person who wanted to kill Denji and
Pochita? If she knew about Asa’s association, would the red-haired woman kill or torture her as
well? The idea made Asa even sicker to her stomach.

She had to steady her hand to get the key in the lock and turn it.

“Welcome back,” Denji called preemptively as soon as Asa shut the door behind her and turned the
locks. That little, happy greeting is what made her lose it. That bit of hope she had in the back of
her mind, that maybe the Devil Hunters could do something about this whole predicament, was
gone.

Denji was at her side in an instant. Genuine concern was etched into every corner of his face as he
watched her begin to cry hysterically as she shucked off her shoes and left them lying where they
landed.

“Asa…”

Asa tried to walk past him, but her left foot caught on the back of her right ankle. Denji caught her
in the nick of time by the arm and righted her before she could fall.

“Th…thought about something upsetting while I was outside.” It wasn’t a complete lie, but she
couldn’t tell him about the Devil Hunters’ protection just yet. Her heart couldn’t take a negative
response in the moment.

“Wanna tell me?” Asa knew he was parroting back how she spoke to him, but she appreciated it.

“…I…I don’t think I can talk about it right now,” she hiccupped.

“...Is there anything I can do?”

“I…I d…I dunno.”

“...‘Kay.”

Denji looked like he was going in for a bunny kiss, but something changed his mind and he pressed
his cheek to hers instead. He embraced her firmly, but not crushingly so.

He deserves everything.

The thought made everything worse. Asa clutched the pullover fabric between his shoulder blades
and let the often repressed emotions out. She forgot how ugly of a crier she was, completely
different from the almost endearing way Denji cried. Her sobs sounded like a braying donkey. The
noise secretly horrified her.

They stood there for a while before Denji spoke in her ear.

“Do you need a shower?”

Asa nodded as she tried to inhale a giant snot bubble gathering at her nose.

“Would you like to take one together?”

“...Huh?”

“—Not naked or anything. In our underwear or something,” Denji added hurriedly. “Just a
suggestion. Thought it might feel good.”

“I…I guess so?” Now that she thought about it, Asa smelled like fryer grease, old coffee, and dust.
The scent clung to her skin, hair, and clothing.

“Okay.”

“Can…can I pick you up?”

Asa nodded to her rational mind’s bewilderment. If she tried to walk to the bathroom in this wave
of emotions, she’d faceplant on the floor. She knew this from experience and many weird resulting
bruises.

“Come on, put your arms around my neck.”

Asa did so and Denji picked her up by the waist. “Now legs around my middle.”

Asa wrapped her legs around his hips and held on his frame tightly. Denji shifted his handholds to
underneath her covered thighs, one hand at a time.

“I’m sorry I weigh so much,” Asa got out through her tears.

“Hah? What’re ya talking about?”

“Nevermind,” she whispered.

“You’re not heavy at all,” he answered back irregardless.

With a crying Asa clinging onto him like a koala, Denji made a stop to retrieve fresh towels before
heading to the washroom. Despite his poor nutrition for the past however many years, Denji’s
body was remarkably sturdy. He held Asa like it was nothing. He carefully sat her down on the
covered toilet seat lid before he stripped off her shorts, her socks, and her father’s shirt off of his
body. He didn’t fold them as one normally would, electing instead to fold every garment into even
quarters and setting them on the edge of the dingy cream-colored sink.

“Your turn,” Denji demanded in a gentle tone. Asa raised up her arms like a child. Denji shimmed
her out of the navy dress and carefully laid it across the sink. Underneath it, she wore a formerly
white (now grey) tank top, her shittiest middle school bra, and her middle school gym shorts. He
kneeled at her feet and peeled off her socks one foot at a time. He looked into her eyes once
through his eyelashes before standing.

“S’okay I’m using hot water this time?”

“...Yeah.” Asa didn’t want a cold shower tonight, especially with the wind outside and the
impending snow.

Without another word, Denji turned on the showerhead so that the water stream trickled out and
dribbled the water over the open palm of his hand.

“Ya like it pretty hot, like almost ‘ouch this kinda burns’ hot?”

“Mhm,” Asa hiccupped.

When the temperature reached his satisfaction, he increased the water pressure with a twist of the
knob.

Denji fiddled with the knob again and tested the temperature once again. “Can ya get into the
tub?”

Asa gave a noisy inhale of more snot, swallowed it, nodded, and stood.

Great. I sound so gross, she thought as she self-consciously stepped over the edge of the tub. Denji
hopped in behind her, showerhead in hand, and hesitated.

“Can I…can I take your braids out first?”

“Sure,” Asa sniffed as she looked ahead at the tiled wall.

“‘Kay.” Denji shut off the showerhead to save water before he began.

Denji deliberately went slow while untangling her hair. He pulled off the elastic band keeping her
hair in place and unbraided the sectioned parts of her hair instead of immediately running his
fingers through her entire braid like Asa would’ve after a long day. After both braids were out,
Denji took the care to run his fingers through her loose hair, getting the tangles out that remained
until there were none. He took the time to make sure he wasn’t going to hurt her.

Asa’s heart squeezed in her chest as a new round of tears began to flow. She didn’t deserve this
kindness, especially since she wasn’t telling him the whole truth about his current situation.

“Do…do you want me to wash your hair too?” Denji asked tentatively.

Asa hesitated. On one hand, it had gotten much too oily, but on the other…

“…If you’d like.”

“‘Kay.”

Denji partially stepped out of the tub to turn the faucet back on. After he rechecked the
temperature, he stepped back behind her and began. Denji finger combed her bangs back and held
her locks of hair with a gentle respect as he moved the showerhead back and forth across the top
and back of her head.

When her hair was thoroughly wetted, Denji squeezed an oversized glop of her scented transparent
shampoo right onto the top of her head. He worked the shampoo from her scalp to the tips of her
hair, still taking care not to tangle it. His short and dull nails felt nice on her skin. As he washed her
hair, Asa felt her tears slow and gradually cease.

When Denji was satisfied with the pile of suds on her head, he rinsed her hair, smoothing it down
with his palm.

“If…if you want to continue, you can grab my conditioner from the kitchenette.”

“Conditioner?”

Asa recalled that she never used it on Denji’s hair after the shampooing ordeal from the other
night. Maybe it would be a good idea to make him use it next time he had to shower.

“I have frizzy hair. Conditioner’s stuff that smoothes it down.”

Denji sighed dramatically. “Fine, fine, I’ll go get it.”

Asa stood there awkwardly in her wet underclothes as Denji hopped out, patted down his legs and
feet, and left the washroom. He returned moments later with the tall bottle of white conditioner in
his hand.

“This it?”

“Yep.”

“Cool.”

Denji soaked her hair again with hot water and repeated his reverential routine with her conditioner.

“Give it a moment. It needs to stay in my hair for a few minutes.”

“‘Kay.” Denji shut off the water.

“What’s the smell?”

“Of what?”

“Of the conditioner.”

“Ah, yes. Uh,” Asa paused, turned around, and grabbed the bottle. She quickly scanned the label.
“Vanilla.”

“Like ice cream?” Denji asked as he took the bottle from her.

“Like the ice cream.”

“Hm. Smells good enough to eat.”

Asa couldn’t help it as she looked at Denji very seriously examining the conditioner bottle. She
impulsively wrapped her arms around Denji’s waist and pressed the side of her conditioner-
covered head against his bare chest. He startled at her sudden movement, but quickly hugged her
back. Asa tried to not think about the very limited time they had left. Luckily or unluckily for her,
Asa noticed the firm length covered in wet cloth pressed against her hip and stomach.

“Why are you hard?” The question served as a good distraction to her mounting feelings as her
tears threatened to return.

“Dunno. Not horny or nothing.”

“Ah, okay.”

“M’sorry.”

Denji tried to twist and shift himself away, but Asa held tight. She wanted to feel every sign of life
that he held in his body, even if it was a weird sign.

“Stop worrying about it,” Asa reiterated in a gravelly voice. “S’natural. I don’t care.”

Denji stopped resisting, gave a relieved sigh, and continued to simply hold Asa back. She didn’t
want anything else.

They stood there for another minute more until the cooling water on their skin became
uncomfortable. With a fluttering exhale, Asa finally pulled away after a few minutes and turned
around.

“Okay, time to wash it out.”

“…Got it.”

Denji spent even more time making sure the conditioner was fully washed out of her hair. When
the slimy texture was gone, Denji shut off the showerhead.

“I’m gonna go clean up from dinner. You can finish showering by yourself, right?”

“Yeah, I can.”

“‘Kay.”

Denji stepped out of the tub and pulled a fresh towel around himself.

“Denji?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

When Asa finished showering, she went to open the washroom door only to find a clean set of
clothing—underwear, pajama pants, and a ratty T-shirt advertising a nasty local burger joint—
placed on the newly mopped floor for her.

Asa’s eyes pulsed from the kind gesture before her, but she’d already cried out about all of the tears
that she had to spill. She was tired now, and all of her energy had to be put towards getting to bed.
She pulled the pile of clothing inside, changed, brushed her teeth, and was about to put a hair brush
through her wet hair when she paused. With reluctance, Asa squatted, opened the cabinet, pushed
her menstrual products aside, and located out her neglected chipped blue hair dryer. She plugged it
into the wall and turned it on. The loud whirring noise ushered the rapid footsteps from the
kitchen.

Denji, pantsless and going commando, opened the washroom door with a loud bang. He welded
Asa’s broom like a sword.

“Asa—!”

“I’m fine!” Asa shut off the contraption. “Just my hair dryer.”

“Oh.” Denji’s expression betrayed his relief. “Sorry.”

“Y’know what? Take a break from what you’re doing and come’re. Your hair is damp. We’ll both
sleep better if we have dry hair.”

“Uh…let me get clothes on.”

“I don’t care.”

“’Kay?”

Denji leaned the broom against the wall before he wedged himself between her and the sink. Asa
turned the hair dryer back on and began to dry his hair, running her fingers through his hair as she
did so. Glances over his shoulder into the mirror betrayed a descent into that almost drunk
expression.

“You okay?” Asa asked as his shoulders slumped forward.

“Uh, nothing.” Denji sobered quickly, pulled his shirt down as far as it could go, and pressed his
hips against the front of the sink. “Ignore me.”

“Whatever.”

His face made her want to tease him, but she finished what she had set out to do instead. His hair,
though full of split ends, turned out to be excessively fluffy when blow dried. Asa loved it almost
as much as his secret wet curls.

“Thanks.”

“No problem.”

Denji left her alone to dry her hair as he went to deal with his own tasks. When Asa finished, a
much healthier version of herself stared back.

Asa forgot that her hair, though thin, was kind of pretty when it was freshly washed. Glossy and
with a faint blue-black shine in certain lighting. Her hair was the reason why she didn’t look in the
mirror. The reason why she hadn’t washed it in months. She had her mother’s hair, and she
couldn’t bear to have the constant physical reminder of her mother’s and her father’s absences in
her life.

Asa’s chest ached, but the deed was done. Her clean and shiny hair was back. She couldn’t let
herself fall into that slump ever again. Asa put her hair dryer away and left the washroom.
Denji was already buried underneath the comforter on the futon when Asa entered the partitioned
bedroom. Pochita was spread out on his back in the center of the futon, already sound asleep.
When Denji felt the weight on the mattress shift, he turned to face her.

“Hi.” Denji greeted her as Asa pulled back the comforter and clean sheets.

“Hey.”

“…How’re you feeling?”

“…Sad.”

“Oh.”

“I…I don’t really want to talk about it right now.”

“That’s okay.”

A pause.

“Asa?” Denji asked.

“Hm?”

“Can you hold me tonight?—only if you want to though—I can hold you too, if you’d like.”

Pochita looked too comfortable to be moved. Asa didn’t want to disturb him.

“Pochita’s in the way.”

“He’ll be alright if we move him.”

“Then sure.”

Denji reached over, scooped up the little devil, and gently deposited him on the edge of the bed.
Pochita made a sleepy noise of protest, but he quieted down once Denji covered him in the
comforter.

“I’m…kinda naked, s’that okay? Just wearing a shirt,” Denji asked as he settled on his side.

“Again?” It was such a preposterous question that it lifted Asa’s spirits a little.

“Couldn’t find any dry underwear, and…” he turned over and spoke the rest of the sentence into
his pillow.

“Huh?”

Denji rested on his side again, covered his face with his hands, and repeated whatever he just said.

“Still can’t hear you.”

Denji spread his fingers to take a peek over to Asa.

“I…I like being naked for you, okay?”

It was such a ridiculous notion that Asa couldn’t help but crack a grin. Denji gave her a small
close-lipped smile in return despite the embarrassing admission.
“I mean, I don’t mind it at all, but why?”

“I’unno. Like it. Makes me feel good.”

“Oh?”

“Do…do you?” Denji looked away.

“Eh?”

“Like it.”

“Hm…get closer.”

Denji crawled over closer to Asa and flopped down beside her. Asa readied herself for what was
kind of an indulgent moment on her part.

“Like ‘closer,’ closer.”

Asa noticed how Denji’s breathing quickened as he got even nearer, a mere couple centimeters
away from her. Asa took the hem of his pullover and pulled it up above his chest. With an almost
inaudible whine, Denji helped Asa pull it as high as it could go without taking it off. Asa nuzzled
her face into the center of his bare chest, savoring his clean smell and cooler skin. She wrapped her
free hand over his waist and pressed her hand against the middle of his lower back.

“Why’re you always so cold?” Asa felt goosebumps develop against her lips as she spoke the
words into his sternum.

“Y—you always ask me something like that!”

“I know! You haven’t told me why yet though!”

“I know I haven’t! Um…what’s the word when you gotta do something?”

“…’Job’?”

“Nah.”

“‘Task’?”

“Mmh, kinda.”

“‘Moral imperative’?”

“Asa, I think you can tell by now I’m not good with fancy words,” Denji admitted.

“Then…‘duty’?”

“Close.”

“…Obligation?“

“Yeah! That. I dunno why I’m always so cold, but I do know it means that you have an ‘obligation’
to warm me up.”

The way he spoke it was almost accusatory, but the words made the command endearing.
“I do?”

“You do. Gotta take responsibility for me.”

Denji didn’t breathe again until she pulled her face away and looked up into his.

“Where’d you get that from?” Asa asked with a small smile playing on her lips.

“…Was watching some soaps before you came home today while I was cleaning the mats.”

“Oh.”

“A bad joke—trying to make you feel better. Sor—”

“—No, it isn’t.” Asa began to repeatedly rub her hand up and down his bare side from his hip to
his ribs. “I’ll—I’ll take responsibility for as long as I can.”

“Oh...”

“You’re my responsibility until Wednesday.”

“…Works for me.” Denji’s voice caught a little in his throat, but he covered it up almost well
enough for Asa not to notice.

“To answer your earlier question…yep, I like it. I like it a lot.”

Denji failed to conceal an unabashedly happy noise.

Asa pressed her face back into his chest as Denji pulled her into his embrace and tucked her head
under his chin. It was his turn to run his hands through her dry hair. Thanks to his efforts, it ran
through his fingers in an effortlessly silky fashion as freshly washed and blowdried hair tended to
do.

“You have beautiful hair too, ya know?”

Asa gave a full body shiver.

“Thank you. You’ve really helped me out today.”

“‘Course. You’ve done a lot of shit for me, so—” Denji paused and yawned, “—don’t think that I
can’t help out where I can. Just gotta let me know, cause I’m not too good at picking up on hints.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“…Asa…?”

“Hm?”

“I know I said I wasn’t picky, but for the movie night, do ya think you could get something
with…”

Asa, sensing his pause, reiterated his question. “…‘Something with’?”

“Ugh, this’ll sound real fucking dumb out loud.”

“…Tell me.”
“C…can you get a movie with a love story in it?—Not a bunch of kissing, boobs, and stuff, but—”

“—I can get something with romance in it.”

“Only if you like those types of movies though.”

“I do.”

“Oh, whew. That’s a relief—would’ve been hella embarrassed if you didn’t, ‘specially as a dude.”

“The heart wants what it wants. Like flowers, anyone can enjoy romance. It’s not just a thing for
girls. So, don’t be embarrassed by it. I’ll see what’s available.”

“…I’m trusting ya to pick a good one, you know that?”

“Are you doubting my taste?”

“No, not at all!” The alarm in his voice sounded genuine as his arms slightly tensed around her.

“I’m being sarcastic again. Sorry,” Asa said quickly.

“…S’okay.” Denji relaxed around her again, to her relief. As he quieted down, Asa’s attention was
drawn to his normal resting heartbeat.

Huh?

His heart thudded oddly in his chest in a manner that she hadn’t taken the time to notice before. A
snapping sound, accompanied by a deep, rumbling murmur. Asa narrowed in on the oddity with
arched eyebrows. She didn’t know what was wrong, but it didn’t sound right at all.

“…Denji?”

“Yep?”

It’s too late. Go to bed, Asa warned herself.

“…Nothing. Good night.”

“Mm. Good night, Asa.”

Denji fell asleep before Asa did, but the mounting emotional exhaustion led her to slumber soon
after despite her overactive thoughts. In his arms, Asa managed to sleep deeply for the first time in
many months.
 Chapter 11
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy CSM Tuesday! <3 The manga chapter this week was hella cute. I hope Asa
changes her mind about the murder business.

Another weirdo intimate moment in this chapter. If you want to skip it, stop after the
sentence that starts with “The rubbing of his hand…” and begin again at “‘Did…did
ya get the movies…’”

I just realized writing this chapter that we don’t have a ship name for these two yet. I
personally am leaning towards “Denasa.” Thoughts? (Edit: It’s apparently “Asaden.”
Works for me!)

Best,
Lady

The same rabbit-like girl with the red barrettes from the convenience store stood behind Asa’s
local video rental store’s counter. Asa cut her shift short today, telling Furuno that she needed to
take care of her cousins once again. A lie, of course. She had three and a half more days with
Denji, and tomorrow was her only full day with him. Asa couldn’t really afford to play hooky from
her job today, especially with the surmounting grocery and hot water bills in her future, but she
didn’t give a shit. Denji was more important.

I’ll figure something out once he’s gone…

Asa tried her best to avoid the rabbit girl’s eyes as she disappeared into the aisles of VHS tapes and
LaserDiscs. As Asa scanned the shelves, a sense of melancholic nostalgia came over her. The store
was overly warm, almost humid, like she remembered it being when she was little. This store was a
favorite childhood haunt of hers. It was a place that reminded her of birthday party sleepovers and
her father’s days off from his gruesome shifts where he dedicated all of his time just to her.

Asa inhaled deeply as she pulled off her outer coat and unzipped the cardigan underneath so as not
to overheat. She had forgotten about the store’s unique smell. A mix of dusty carpets, spilled soda,
and old candy.

It had been about…three years since she’d rented a VHS? Asa couldn’t help but worry if her
family’s VHS player was too out-of-use to play tapes correctly.

Picking out five movies was surprisingly harder than Asa had initially expected to be. She spent
most of the school day trying to make a mental list of what to watch rather than focusing on her
instruction.

Lots of new releases lined the shelves, and Asa hadn’t been to a theater in years. The only other
two customers she encountered—a casually-dressed young woman with bleached hair and dark
roots and a slightly older man with intimidating sideburns and a trench coat—gave her the
scrutinizing side-eye as she had to pass them in the aisle. They looked like they were arguing over
some horror movie with Koji Yakusho’s face on the cover. Asa corrected her posture and put the
most confident expression she could muster on her face.

Asa bravely continued her pursuit until she rediscovered what she was looking for: the
international movies section. Not only was she only well-acquainted with older movies, Asa grew
up on a healthy diet of mostly Hollywood rather than on films from elsewhere, limiting her options
considerably.

Thanks, Mom, she thought with a mild degree of sardonicism.

Asa picked out three movies that were fun.

Fist of Fury, a great martial arts film.

Forbidden Planet, a crazy-looking science fiction film.

The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly. Her father had a soft spot for Spaghetti Westerns, a preference
first introduced to him by his wife. The music of Ennio Morricone served as a backdrop to Asa’s
childhood.

When Harry Met Sally… was Asa’s back-up romance film if she couldn’t find the movie she was
craving to watch with Denji.

Where is it?

As she rummaged through the shelves, her hope began to wane. When she reached the third to last
tape in the final row, Asa found what she was looking for. A VHS cover showing a man’s black
silhouette as he played a fiddle to greet the rising sun. Asa suppressed a squeal.

Fiddler on the Roof.

It was yet another musical that she had watched on repeat from the ages of nine to eleven. Asa still
had every line memorized. She could sing entire songs—complete with different voices for each
character—with a bit of prompting.

Lots of wonderful love stories squashed into one epic movie. Perfect for Denji’s request…maybe?
Asa hoped he’d like it.

Asa carried her armful of tapes to the front. The rabbit girl put down an old dog-eared magazine
about alcoholic spirits and scurried over to the cash register while Asa studied the nearby rack of
available snacks. She eventually selected three bags of unpopped buttered popcorn, two Black
Thunder chocolate bars, and a tin container of a knockoff peach-flavored gummy candy.

When Asa approached the counter, the girl didn’t seem to recognize her to Asa’s relief.

“How many tapes?” she asked hurriedly as Asa placed the movies and food before her.

“Five.”

“...All international releases?”

“Yes.”

The girl carefully inspected each and every tape, opening each one to make sure the contents were
correct. Asa took the time to fiddle about in her wallet, counting the mentally calculated amount of
coins and bills over and over again until the girl tallied up the final price. The girl was sweating
profusely, to the point where Asa guiltily wondered if she had a medical condition.

“Two thousand and one…no, two thousand and three hundred yen.” The cashier looked like she
was about to cry as she quickly corrected her mistake. “That’s for the snacks and one night rental
for all five movies.”

“I’ll want them for two nights.”

“Ah! Yes, yes.” The girl began to sweat even more profusely as she recalculated the amount.

Asa waited patiently.

“Aaah, it’ll be three thousand, five hundred, and fifty yen instead.” The girl attempted a friendly
customer service smile, but it translated as a grimace of pain.

The price of rental is the same, Asa thought with some relief.

Asa placed the money on the cash register. She waited for the girl to bag each item and carefully
count each and every coin before Asa felt like she could leave the store and not feel like she was
stealing.

It was a miserably cold and blustery day to be walking any distance outside, but her bus stop was a
good kilometer from the video store and the trek was excruciating. She’d decided again today to
not take her moped for a change of pace (and to save on gas) for once, but she greatly regretted the
decision.

She’d passed the bakery when the first snow flakes began to fall. The smell of baking milk bread
filled the air. Her stomach growled. She’d bought ground beef on her most recent grocery run with
the notion to make burgers. Asa made a mental note to ask Denji if he wanted to save burgers for
tomorrow’s meal together or for tonight.

Asa wrapped her homemade scarf tighter around her neck and made sure the collar of her coat was
pulled up as high as it could go. She managed to get past three more shops before she stopped in
her tracks outside of the bridal boutique’s display window. A tiny solemn-faced mannequin
demonstrated a white western wedding dress with sheer Juliette sleeves. The bodice of the gown
was covered with delicate flower embroidery and tiny beads. A similarly embroidered veil
accentuated the skill and workmanship put into the garment.

Asa wasn’t the most fashionable teenage girl, but she could appreciate a beautiful gown.

I want to get married in a dress like that.

Not that anyone would want to marry her.

When she finally arrived at the bus stop, Asa tried to focus on pleasant thoughts. Despite the
distractions at home, she hadn’t missed a single homework assignment. She got her math test
results back that morning. A score of 94 wasn’t too shabby by her standards, though the one
mistake that cost her four points was a simple division error. That was frustrating.

Um…

A foreign customer left a thousand yen tip for her today under his coffee mug. Furuno was the type
to usually chase tourists down and give them back their money, but he let her keep it this time
around since the money was discovered at least thirty minutes after the customer was long gone.
She wasn’t proud enough to turn down the offer. Asa always had a use for pocket change.

Eh…

It felt good to have clean hair. She wore it down today for the first time in months. Some random
bespectacled girl from a different class that Asa didn’t know complimented her on it.

“Wow! I like your new haircut!”

Just those few words lifted her spirits considerably.

Hm, what else?

Try as Asa might, the sweet face of a one-eyed boy with dark blond hair was the only coherent
image her mind could formulate. No thoughts, head empty, only Denji. Asa felt herself blush in
exasperation as she boarded the newly arrived bus and took a window seat beside a snoring elderly
woman. Asa couldn’t get Denji off her mind, no matter how hard she tried.

Denji smiled with his mouth closed. It was a lovely smile, and Asa’s chest warmed at the sight of
it, but her intellectual curiosity picked away at the back of her brain.

What do his teeth and mouth look like?

The fleeting question that materialized on the bus to school that morning turned into slight anxiety
at the end of the school day. Now it transformed into an anxious obsession on the bus ride home.
On one hand, Denji was a kid raised in poverty. On the other hand, he seemed to prioritize his oral
hygiene. He thankfully didn’t have bad breath. At best, he was self-conscious of some crooked
teeth. At worst, his mouth could need some major work. She tried to push the thoughts out of her
mind. Alas, her father educated her too well. Asa knew people could die of tooth abscesses because
of migrating bacteria leading to multiple-organ-failure. If Denji had a tooth abscess, they needed to
get it checked out as soon as possible. Maybe…maybe if he could lay low until his birthday, she
could invite him over early and she could take him to the dentist before cake?

He’ll be dead before then, Asa.

Asa forced those thoughts into her mind’s metaphorical dumpster.

Today and tomorrow will be happy days. Stop worrying about things you have no control over.

As if such words of self-assurance ever stopped her from fixating.

When Asa returned to the apartment that day, Denji was upon her in seconds. He wore her house
slippers, her blue hoodie and a pair of stretched grey sweatpants that she found in the very back of
the closet that morning. His shoulders pulled the hoodie taut across his thorax, but Asa would be a
liar if she said she hated the way her clothes looked on him.

“I’m home!” Asa announced as she locked the door and began stripping off her outer layer.

“Welcome back.”

“Ya back early.”

“I got off of work early.”

Denji embraced her and gave her a gentle bunny kiss before she could even put down all of her
things. She liked his hands so much, but her eyes went to his lips when he pulled back. Denji
noticed.

“Asa?”

“Hmm?” Asa’s eyes flitted up to his.

“How’re you feeling?”

“A…a little better.”

Denji gave a small smile. The ‘mouth’ question bubbled up in her throat, but she swallowed it
down.

“...Want some tea?” he asked as he held both her hands.

“You’ve found my tea stash?” Asa asked as she went to set her book bag down at the chabudai.

“I reorganized the cabinets, remember?” Denji reminded her.

“Oh…right.”

Asa followed Denji to the kitchenette. It somehow was even cleaner than it was yesterday. “Did
you do even more cleaning?”

“Uh…kinda. Cleaned the top of the fridge and sorted through the drawers in here. Also sorted stuff
in the closet—didn’t touch your clothes though.”

“Denji…you’re my guest.” Asa took a quick second to wash her hands after the reality of touching
rental VHS tapes set in. “You don’t have to do anything.”

“I want to, though. I really do,” Denji exclaimed as he whipped about and looked at her with a wide
eye.

“Oh…okay. Just don’t get injured, please?’

“‘Kay. I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Asa fought off a conflicting mix of affection and guilt as Denji busied himself with the gooseneck
kettle, a spoon, globular silver tea strainers, and two mismatched mugs.

“...Want to pick out the tea you’d like?”

“Sure.”

Asa opened the small side cabinet next to the fridge and found her fifteen or so cans of loose leaf
tea neatly stacked into rows. She collected her favorite shaded green tea—gyokuro—and set it
down on the kitchenette. Denji opened the tin canister and began preparing their teas. He did
everything so carefully, from doling out the loose leaf tea into the strainers to pouring the hot
water. When he set the strainers in the hot water, he grabbed both handles and guided Asa to the
chabudai. Once she sat down, dragged the heater from the partitioned bedroom and set it up
nearby. Denji turned the heater on and went to sit down beside Asa. He gathered quilts and
blankets around himself once again.

“Where’s Pochita?”

“Sleeping on the futon. Seems tired, which is kinda weird.”

“Ah?”

“S’been sitting in front of the door like a nut all day. Stopped right before ya got home.”

The bird? A stranger?

Asa tried to calm herself.

“You good?”

Denji’s question snapped her out of it.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

Denji gave her a skeptical look.

“I promise!” Asa swore.

“‘Kay.”

Asa rummaged about in her book bag for her English textbook. She opened it and turned to the
grammar set associated with her assigned chapter. With Pochita’s odd behavior added on top of
everything else, she couldn’t focus very well at all.

Denji let the tea steep for another minute before he removed the tea leaves. He set Asa’s mug
beside her textbook.

She let it cool for a few minutes longer before she tried to taste it. Denji watched her expectantly,
not daring to touch his tea before she tried hers. Finally, Asa took up her mug, blew on it, and took
a sip. It was steeped for perhaps a little longer than she would have done for herself, but it was
acceptably concentrated and at a good temperature. Plus, it was tea from Denji. It would have to be
undrinkable for her not to appreciate the gesture.

“You’re good at this!”

Denji’s face lit up like a Christmas tree, but he looked bashful at the same time.

“I discovered the cooking channel this morning, and a tea ceremony was on this afternoon,” Denji
admitted. “Wanted to try it out.”

“You did a great job, especially for your first time,” Asa exclaimed as she pulled out her
flashcards.

“…Thanks,” Denji responded shyly. He inched closer to Asa and rested the side of his head on her
free shoulder. He watched her flip through her flashcards once before speaking.

“Whatcha reading about?”

Asa took a swallow of tea before answering. “English.”

“Tell me more.”

“Well, I’m studying hypocorisms.”

“Wazzat?”

“Hypocorisms are names that demonstrate the speaker’s affection towards a person or an object.”

“Affection?”

“Love.”

“Hm.” Denji snuggled into her shoulder.

“You see, English isn’t structured like Japanese at all,” Asa groaned as she began reviewing her
cards again. “Japanese is fairly straightforward in how affection is communicated in this manner.
English chose to use dozens of random words of endearment instead.”

“Sounds hard.”

“These—” Asa held up a fistful of flashcards and shook them angrily, “are one of the many reasons
that English is stupid. I have to memorize them as part of an upcoming quiz next week.”

“Let me help you. Gimme one.”

“One of what?”

“A hypo-thingy word.”

“Uh…okay.” Asa thought hard for a moment.

“If you were in an English-speaking country, your friends might use what’s called a—” Asa paused
to check her flashcards, “‘diminutive’ form of your name—a nickname. Something like ‘Denny,’
or, I don’t know, maybe they’ll take the ‘Den’ part of your name and expand on that. ‘Dennis,’
maybe, like ‘Dennis the Menace’—which is the name of an American newspaper comic
character.” Asa felt herself blush and silently blamed her mother for a second time today for
teaching her too much about western pop culture.

“Neat.”

A pause.

“Gimme one.”

“Hrm,” Asa began as she wracked her brain, “I don’t know. English speakers can even use sounds
of gibberish as a hypocorism if they wanted to.”

“Like, gimme one you’d give to someone you really liked. A nice one.”

“You know one already.”

“I do?”

“‘Good b’—”
“Another one, besides that one,” Denji added in a rush.

“Sure. You can use adjectives—words that describe something—like ‘handsome,’ or ‘gorgeous.’
Nouns—so, words that are things—are used too—‘honey,’ ‘baby,’ or “darling.’ There’re so many
of them, it’s ridiculous.”

“What’s your favorite one?”

“My favorite?”

“Yes. Yours.”

“…‘Sweetheart,’ probably?” The word slipped off of Asa’s tongue in a satisfying way.

“I like that one.”

“Eh?”

“You can call me that, if ya want.”

Denji removed his head from her shoulder and took a sip of tea. His hands shook a little as he did
so. Asa sat there in shock.

“…You like it?”

“Don’t make me say it again!”

Asa looked over at Denji, who seemed intent on chugging down the entire mug after the exchange
that just happened.

Asa had to ask. Her eyes went again to his lips.

“Denji, could I see your mouth?”

The tea went down the wrong pipe and Denji loudly coughed back up his drink. When he looked
back at her, tears streamed down from his eyes and tea leaked out of his nose.

“Hah?”

“Can I inspect your teeth?”

This is a bad idea.

“...What kinda question is that?”

Asa grew hot in embarrassment. “A question coming from a place of concern.”

”Concern?” Denji asked as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve.

“Worry.”

“Well, my teeth look weird.”

“Do I look like I care?”

“You might not, but I do.”

“I…I want to make sure your teeth are healthy. Can I see?”

“They are really, really weird-looking.”

“How weird?”

“They’re…pointy.”

“Lots of people have vampire-y looking teeth.”

“No, not like Dracula. All of my front teeth are pointy, not just the ones in the corners.”

“How pointy?”

“Like…a shark, I guess?”

A medical curiosity? Asa had to see his teeth now.

“If you think your teeth will change my favorable opinion of you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

Denji colored a pale pink and pressed his lips together.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. My opinion of you won’t change in the least. So, can I see them?” Asa asked, a little more
eagerly than she probably should have. She shifted into a kneeling position, giving her a few
centimeters of height above Denji.

“…Give me your hand, then.”

Asa offered her non-dominant hand, which Denji took in his gentle manner. He took a small exhale
and intertwined her fingers with his.

“Nervous.”

Asa squeezed his fingers and gave him an encouraging smile.

Denji inhaled and exhaled in rapid succession, puffed out his chest, and smiled back. A real smile
this time, complete with nose wrinkles that Asa fell in love with immediately.

He’s so damn cute.

He was right. Both rows, top and bottom, were full of exceedingly pointed teeth. Asa used her
dominant hand to hold his chin with her fingers curled under and her thumb pressed into the crease
below his bottom lip. She tilted his head side to side, which he obediently allowed her to do. When
Asa used her thumb to pull his bottom lip down to look at his gums, Denji shuddered. Asa tried to
pay the reaction no mind, but she could see that dazed look go across his face for a brief second.

From a clenched perspective, his teeth had a few linear stripes of enamel hypoplasia—a clear
medical indicator that Denji had been living on the streets for quite a while—but otherwise no
obvious signs of health-threatening pathology. Asa was about to pry his teeth apart with her finger
when Denji stopped her.

“Here, let me try something.”

Denji took her dominant hand in his, closed her fingers into a fist, and extended her thumb. Shy, he
glanced at her again.

“Wanna show you what they feel like.”

Asa’s stomach flipped.

“Go ahead.”

Denji pressed her thumb pad against his first molar, lined up the rest of her thumb along the left
side of his teeth, and bit down as lightly as he could. He made eye contact with Asa, trying to
gauge her reaction.

Again, he was correct. They were rather sharp—almost like a dog’s canine tooth or a wooden
pencil almost in need of sharpening. A mix of weird family genetics and poor childhood oral care,
perhaps?

Asa remembered the round white scars on his belly. She wanted to ask about where he came from
so badly, but that information still felt like territory she shouldn’t enter.

Denji moved her thumb to the right side of his teeth and bit down again. As the occlusal surfaces
of his teeth sunk into her flesh, she understood why he might’ve been reluctant to show her. If he
were to chomp down on her finger right then and now with all his strength, he could puncture her
skin like an animal’s bite would. Denji let go of her hand in his mouth and waited for some sort of
reaction as his eye nervously danced across her face. He still held tightly to her other hand, rubbing
his own thumb back and forth across the back of her palm in an anxious way.

Asa’s belly filled with a weird mix of excitement and shame as she tried to further analyze the
sensation in a clinical manner. She kept getting distracted by how much she liked how he looked
with her finger in his mouth.

“Stop biting.”

Denji’s jaw slackened.

Asa tucked her pointer finger under his chin for leverage and pressed her thumb down on the tip of
his tongue. Denji’s flushed complexion turned a deeper red as he made a halting noise through his
nose.

“Open your mouth.”

Denji did so as Asa examined the rest of his teeth in full detail. It was strange, really. His teeth
should’ve been a rotting disaster, and they weren’t. Asa was no dentist, but she didn’t see a single
cavity or an otherwise suspicious-looking dark spot on his teeth or gums. His mouth was healthy as
far as she could tell.

Asa smiled down into Denji’s face. He’d begun to drool a little out of the corner of his mouth.

“I like your smile. If you’re up to the challenge, I’d like to see it more often.”

Denji sounded affirmatively around her thumb. The rubbing of his hand on hers slowed down.

“Thank you, sweetheart.”

Asa mistimed the term of endearment and cringed internally. Denji’s eye went wide and his skin
became even redder.
Asa went to remove her thumb from his mouth, but Denji stopped her from doing so with a light
bite down right behind her first knuckle. He closed his lips around her thumb.

It was a new feeling, the narrow points of his teeth just barely pressing into her skin as he began to
worry her finger in his mouth. They were awkward and unpracticed motions, but Asa couldn’t
resist him. She encouraged it, occasionally pinning down the tip and middle of tongue and running
her thumb along the inside ridge of his teeth.

Asa found herself reaching out to embrace the shell of his right ear with her free hand. Denji leaned
desperately into her touch and took her thumb up to her second joint, bobbing his head slightly as
he did so. Asa suppressed the urge to press her finger down on the back of his tongue and ran it
along the edge of his tongue. He reached under the hoodie he wore and pressed his hand against
the same pectoral that he begged her to touch.

When he looked up again, Asa saw nothing but awe and adoration in his face. She tried to suppress
her rising fear.

If he’s about to die…maybe I can comfort him like this? Would that make me a bad person?

Asa pulled her thumb from his mouth, allowing Denji to drag his teeth lightly along its length. Her
finger came away with striated red lines and a thin strand of his saliva. Asa broke the strand and
swiped her thumb twice against his bottom lip.

Denji gave a heavy sigh and pressed his forehead to her shoulder.

“Sorry. That was really fucking weird,” he mumbled into her clothes.

“No, it wasn’t. I would’ve told you if I didn’t like it.”

“You liked it?”

“Yep.”

It would take something disgusting from you for me not to like it.

“Did…did ya get the movies you wanted today?”

Oh, right.

Asa completely forgotten about movies.

“Yep. Want to look at what I got?”

“‘Kay.”
 Chapter 12
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! No manga chapter today (sad), but I’m excited for the
debut of my favorite minor CSM characters Katana Man and Akane Sawatari in
today’s anime episode. So excited, in fact, that I wrote a oneshot about them. You can
read it here if you’d like.

An emphasized “please heed the tags” for this chapter in terms of canon-typical
violence and referenced child abuse. On a lighter note, I’d also recommend a watch of
“Fiddler on the Roof” or a listen to the movie soundtrack in conjunction with this
chapter if you haven’t discovered the show yet! It is one of my all time favorite
musicals. If you only have the time to watch a snippet, watch the movie’s Sunrise,
Sunset sequence.

Thank you for reading and I hope to see you next week!

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Denji hated his dreams.

This one was no different. Denji was always reduced to his twelve-year-old self in them, wearing a
pair of black cargo pants with holes in the inner thighs, a stained undershirt that barely fit onto his
frame, and his old trainers held together with duct tape. This appearance was what he looked like
right before the incident, to the best of his spotty recollection. He was able to block the incident
and most of his childhood from his mind during his waking hours, but weird conglomerations of
unwelcome memories seeped through his self-imposed psychological block at night.

Denji stood in his childhood apartment. It was a single tatami-floored room without a single
working light fixture. The flashing red, orange, and blue lights from the downstairs hostess club’s
neon sign illuminated the space just enough for him to recognize his surroundings. Hundreds of
glass booze and liquor bottles—both broken and whole—were scattered about around his feet.
Some were in piles that reached his knees. It was all the alcohol that his father couldn’t afford to
buy. The man couldn’t be bothered to even throw away the bottles in the trashcan seated next to
the door.

At one time in his childhood, Denji tried to clean and otherwise keep the apartment presentable for
the occasional visitor, which was usually the old gangster with the bristly beard and bad news.

Why did I stop?

Denji couldn’t remember.

In his dream, Denji held a brown paper bag with both hands. Peering inside, he realized it held at
least two dozen crushed aluminum cans.

“Denji?”

The auditory aspect had only happened a handful of times before. His brain didn’t often materialize
his father’s furiously slurred voice. Denji forgot about how nervous that voice made him.

“Denji?!”

His father was back from the gang’s bar. The man locked himself out like he usually did, but the
apartment door was thin and shoddily constructed.

“Get ya ass over here, ya lil’ slut. Open this door right now, or I’ll teach ya a lesson as soon as I
get in.”

His father could bust through their apartment’s chain lock in mere seconds. The man threw his
entire weight against the door before screaming some incoherent threat. Denji made for his bed—
week-old newspapers over a dirty sheet covering an air mattress—and stashed the bag of cans
under a plastic bag full of crumpled up newspapers that he used as a pillow. He kicked off his
shoes, jumped on the bed, laid down, and closed his eyes. His heart beat rapidly in his ribcage.

Snap, rub-thump, snap, rub-thump.

His heart was broken, even in his dreams.

The man ripped the chain lock cleanly off the wall. The chain clattered to the floor and clinked
against discarded beer bottles.

Denji tensed up as he listened to father’s footsteps draw nearer. He knew when the man stood
directly over him by the intensification of his scent. The man smelled of unwashed body odor, sour
alcohol, and the distinctly chemically smell of cocaine (a mix of gasoline and rubbing alcohol).
Based on his exhale, cheap vodka was his drink of choice tonight.

Denji couldn’t react as his father felt around his head, let out a quiet “aha,” and pulled the bag of
cans from underneath his makeshift pillow.

“Denji, I know yer not sleep’n.”

Denji couldn’t fool his father. He never once won any of these encounters. Denji opened his eyes
and found himself staring up into the man’s face.

Denji looked exactly like his father. Same honey brown eyes, same puffy eye bags, same weird
teeth, and same hair color, though his father’s blond hair was now streaked through with grey.

His father rubbed his palm against his five o’clock shadow and looked at Denji with yellowed and
bloodshot eyes. Wispy veins and bumpy red skin patches that were starting to flake off covered his
face.

“Why ya stealing from me, boy?” The man licked his overly dry lips as he examined the bag’s
contents again.

“Not stealing. Just cleaning up.” The voice that came out of his mouth was that of his younger self
too. High pitched and vulnerable.

“Never asked ya to clean up.”

“I don’t touch any of the cans in the fridge. O…only the empty cans that you leave out.”

“Whatcha gon do with ’em, then?”

“Gon’ go recycle them.”

“How much money ya making off of them?”

“Not much.”

“Gimme a number, Denji.”

“A…a hundred yen? Never more than that.”

“Oh, Denji…” His father stroked his cheek in a bone chilling manner. “Whatcha buying with all
that money?”

“...Old bread. That bakery in Toshima sells it super cheap the day after.” Denji was desperate to
eat something that didn’t smell of dumpster trash. His father never brought home food. If he ever
had cash to spare, he spent it on cheap sex.

Denji’s father threw his head back and broke into bellowing laughter.

“Ya know we dun keep money from each other.”

Aaah. An exchange similar to this one was why Denji stopped trying to clean.

How could I forget?

The man wrapped his wide hand around Denji’s skinny neck. Denji tried to rip the man’s hand
away from his throat, pressing his dirty uncut nails deeply into the flesh of his father’s wrist. His
dad was powerful, somehow still possessing the wiry muscles that years of working in an
automotive assembly line had honed. Denji wasn’t strong enough to remove his fingers.

“I’m sorry—please don’t—”

“I’m not gonna kill ya. Beside, ya like this, don’t ya?”

“Won’t do it again, I—” Denji’s airway was cut off.

His father pressed down against the sides and front of his son’s neck with his entire weight.

“Gotta teach ya a lesson, but gonna be gentle with ya tonight. One minute for the door. One
minute for stealing. One minute for lying.”

Denji was choking. Something was lodged in his throat. He managed to make a wheezing noise,
but no oxygen came to his lungs. He couldn’t breathe. Tears rolled down his face with his effort to
stay alive.

“Denji?”

The room that he was in now was just barely lit, but no flashing lights could be seen. Someone
pushed him onto his side and began to repeatedly strike him between his shoulder blade with the
heel of their hand.
“Denji, listen to me. Y—you’ll be okay. Keep trying to cough.” The voice was nervously insistent
in his ear. He could tell they were trying to keep calm.

Denji reached behind him for a hand, which the person gave freely. He held onto it with all of his
might.

“Almost there, sweetheart. You got this.”

The person intensified the pounding on his back as a blurry red thing on the futon came into his
view. The creature rammed its side into his mid-gut.

That force is what did it. With a violent cough, the object came loose. Denji’s human companion
pressed their free palm to his mouth. He dutifully spit whatever it was into their hand. Drool
flowed freely from his mouth and snot dripped from his nose as he tried to inhale. He coughed
again and a few ounces of a warm ferric-tasting liquid spilled from his mouth. His companion tried
to catch the liquid as well, but it strained through their fingers.

He couldn’t breathe deeply now, but he could breathe. Oxygen felt good on his brain.

His human companion jumped off of the futon and squatted in front of his face. Denji blinked
away the blur and realized that Mitaka Asa—the girl he loved with everything that he could offer
—was currently examining him while in her pajamas and frizzy flyaway hair.

“You done?” Her voice was comparatively cool and comforting as the unnatural sounds of his
spasming heart and rushing blood roared in his ears. He clung to it like a floating piece of
driftwood in a storm.

Denji shook his head.

“Come on. To the toilet.”

Asa offered her support as they got to the washroom. Pochita trailed them closely. Denji managed
not to cough with an open mouth on their trek there, but liquid trickled down from the corners of
his mouth. He was about to faint when they got to their destination. Denji collapsed onto his knees
in front of the toilet and forced himself to cough repeatedly. The liquid kept coming up. Asa sat
down beside him and rubbed the nape of his neck, shoulders, and upper back.

“Keep going, baby.”

She spoke gently to him, using those encouraging phrases combined with those adoring English
words.

“That’s it, honey.”

What’re those words again? ‘Hypocrites’?

The clear water in the bowl of the toilet turned dark crimson with his blood.

“Good job, beautiful.”

Denji’s stomach folded in half at the sight and he vomited. Asa held his bangs back from his face
until his stomach was empty. When it felt like he couldn’t cough or purge anymore, Denji rested
his cheek against the toilet seat. His eyes watered from the exertion.

“...Done?”
Denji nodded.

“I’ll be right back. Need to go grab some things.”

Denji nodded again.

Pochita laid down, back bumping against the outside of Denji’s shin, as Asa left them both to
gather supplies. Denji glanced down at his companion, who looked up to him with worried eyes.

“Pochita, I—”

Denji shut up when Asa entered the bathroom again. She carried a couple clean towels, a glass of
water, and something wadded up in a paper towel.

“These’re the last clean towels I have. Good thing I’m planning to do laundry today!” Denji saw
right through her false cheeriness and noticed the sweat running down her face.

Asa unfolded a towel and pressed a towel to his chin, just long enough for Denji to grab it from
her.

Now that Denji’s vision was as clear as it could be with one eye, he could see that his blood got
everywhere. Drips trailed on the floor. Blood was on the front of the shirt and shorts he borrowed.
A glance over to Asa’s chest demonstrated that he’d managed to cough all over her shoulder and
upper chest. Both areas were covered with blood splatter. Smeared and bloodied handprints ran
down the front of her white shirt.

Denji grabbed her sleeve before she could stand.

“I’m sor—don’t be mad,” Denji pleaded. His voice was rough and his throat was raw. It hurt to
speak.

“Denji, why would I be mad?” Asa asked gently. She hesitated on what to do with her free hand
before deciding to press the toe beans on Pochita’s left paw. Pochita wouldn’t allow just anyone to
do that. “Not mad at all. Just worried about you.”

“You should be. I ruined shit.”

“Clothing and sheets can be replaced. You can’t.”

Denji was about to fucking cry again. He could feel the tightness blooming in his ribcage.

“Please don’t make me go to the hospital.”

The gang will find me there.

“I won’t.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Denji’s eye went to the large wad of paper towel in Asa’s hand.

“...Asa?”

“Hm?”
“What’s in the towel?”

“...The thing you coughed out. I’m just going to throw it away.”

He felt a wave of nausea pass over.

It finally happened. If that thing was what he thought it was, he was about to go through the same
symptoms that occurred during his mom’s rapid decline.

“Can I see it?”

“...Not sure if you want to.”

“I gotta know what it is.”

Asa gave a sigh and unwrapped the parcel. She angled the object to show him.

Denji wasn’t a stranger to blood and guts, but gore belonging to him was something he didn’t
particularly care to see, especially now. Before Asa came into the picture, he was pretty much
ready for this thing to appear. Now, he wasn’t. Not a bit.

The thing looked like a squishy red tree without leaves. The branches split into countless smaller
forks, the thinnest of these ending in broken-looking lumps.

Yep. One of Denji’s earliest fleeting memories was seeing something similar laying in a pool of
blood on a public bathroom’s filthy tiled floor.

“I…I think it’s a giant blood clot. It looks like a piece of a bronchial tree…” Asa choked up and
tensed her jaw before continuing, “...which is a part of the lung. I think it might be a solid cast of
that part in your body, which is why you were asphyxiating on it.”

“...Oh. Freaky.”

What else could he say to that?

Asa gave a huff as she gave the clot a second consideration. As she looked from the clot to him, he
could tell she was trying not to cry. When she first wept in front of him two days ago, Denji
discovered that her crying made him want to cry too, which was the complete opposite of what he
wanted her to feel with him. Denji wanted to do nothing more than make her happy. He was
baffled when his fucked up body decided to pop a boner at that realization in the shower with her,
even though he wasn’t even horny for once in his life.

“Denji?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a heart condition?” Her voice clipped a little as she asked the question. She looked at
him with a watery smile but gritted teeth.

She was trying with every modicum of her being to keep calm. Denji knew the feeling all too well.
He was doing the exact same thing.

For a moment, Denji considered lying. Alas, Asa was wicked smart. She knew a thing or two about
science and human bodies based on comments she’d made to him before. At this point, he would
be stupid to try and hide it.
“...Yep. I do.”

Asa’s smile got wider and more pronounced.

“Shit,” she said weakly, quickly wiping away the tears that leaked out of the corners of her eyes.
Asa wrapped the blood clot up and threw it in the toilet. She held down the flusher until it and the
rest of the toilet bowl’s contents disappeared down the drain.

“...Do you know what the condition is?” Asa asked as she took his hand again, rubbing her thumb
across his palm in long sweeps.

“Dunno. Got it from my mom.”

“Is…is your mother alive?” Asa asked.

“No.” Denji tried to smile back as tears pooled up in his own eyes.

“Did she die of her heart condition?”

“...Yep.” Denji barely got the word out. “When I was four.”

“How old was she?”

“Seventeen. Died a month before her eighteenth birthday.”

“You’ve mentioned that your father’s…passed. When did he die?”

“When I was about twelve, I think?”

“...Oh.” Asa began grinding her teeth in her pained smile. Her chest heaved as her breath kept
catching in her throat. “Do…do you have any other living family members?”

Denji couldn’t answer that. If he had any family left alive, they didn’t give a shit about him or his
existence. He shook his head.

“It’s just you and Pochita?”

Denji nodded.

“I think…I think you should know something. My parents are dead too,” Asa offered as if it would
be of any consolation, “but they died in the summer of last year. A devil got them. I have some
extended family, but…it’s not the same.”

Denji had his suspicions, but it was nice to know that for sure. He felt horrible for her.

“...Can I ask ya a question?” Denji murmured.

“Sure.”

“...Did…did your parents love you?”

“...Very much so, or at least I think they did,” Asa whispered as her smile broke and tears fell. “I
wish I told them that I loved them back more often than I did.”

“Mine didn’t.”

“No?”
“I wish they did. I wish my mom lived long enough to take me away from my dad.”

That was the first time he’d ever told anyone that, even Pochita.

“Oh, sweetheart…” Asa pulled him into her embrace.

Denji held in his breath until he could bear it no longer.

Right before dawn on that Sunday morning, Denji and Asa cried together on the bloody bathroom
floor.

Denji could sense that Asa was being gentler with him than she had been before, as if that was
even possible.

“Asa, let me help you clean,” Denji begged. “It’s my mess.”

She threw pillows and jumbled blankets onto his side of the stripped futon before covering the
heap of fabric with the last two clean towels. “I’d be happy for your help in any other
circumstance, but you just lost a lot of blood. If you’re not feeling it now, you’re going to feel it in
half an hour. You need to rest for a couple hours—sleep, if you can.”

Denji wanted to fight her on this, but she was right.

“‘Kay.”

“I need the clothes you’re wearing. Strip.”

Asa hooked her thumbs in his waistband.

“Ready?”

“Yep.”

“One, two, three…” Asa yanked down his pants. Denji rested his hands on her shoulders as she
worked his ankles free. She stood and pulled his shirt off in a similar manner.

“Good boy,” Asa said gently as she threw the clothes in the pile of bloodied laundry. “Get in bed.”

Asa knew best. Denji laid down and Asa threw the old striped blanket over him. Sleep overtook
him in seconds.

The sun rose before Denji woke up. Whatever it was that had rallied to make him feel okay-ish
after he vomited a few hours ago was gone. His mouth tasted like copper. He was exhausted in a
way that wasn’t normal, even on his lowest days. His head hurt, his chest ached, and his heart
throbbed at a quickened speed.

Tough it out. You’ve gone through worse.

He looked at Asa’s alarm clock. 7:15.

She’s late.
Denji was about to shake Asa awake to help her get ready for school when he realized it was
Sunday.

Today’s the day that Asa’s gonna spend the entire day with me.

That thought made Denji indescribably happy, even if he physically felt like shit. He resolved to
put on a good face for her.

Asa, still asleep, held Denji tightly to her chest. He noticed that she wasn’t wearing a shirt or pants
for once, only a thin cotton bra-looking thing paired with functional everyday underwear. A glance
over the curve of Asa’s hip showed that Pochita had decided to settle down and sleep against her
butt.

Denji’s body and brain normally would have gone into hyperdrive if he was treated to the sight of
her naked waist, but not today. She was like this not by her own volition, but because he hacked
blood all over her clothing. That wasn’t a boner-worthy circumstance, even for him. He wasn’t
even sure if he could get hard even if he really wanted to with how gross he was feeling.

Denji reached for her hand that rested on his hip. It was exceedingly dry and irritated-looking.
Combined with the slight scent of bleach clinging to her hair, Denji concluded that she was
probably attempting to remove his blood stains from stuff while he slept.

M’sorry, Asa.

Denji brought her hand to his mouth and hesitated.

Well, she didn’t mind me sucking on her finger, right?

After some indecision, Denji kissed the heel of her open palm. “Kissed” might be too generous a
term—Denji didn’t really know how to do much of anything besides hunt devils, clean, and
manage a debt budget. He certainly didn’t know how to kiss. Maybe it was more like “awkwardly
pressing his lips to her skin.”

Denji sighed and looked up into her face. Asa’s sleeping face was caught in a half-smile. Her
eyelashes fluttered as she pulled him closer.

Denji didn’t know what Asa thought of him. She seemed fond of him, but she didn’t seem to want
to get closer to him than was necessary. Her inconsistency admittedly confused him.

On the positive side of things, Asa seemed to like hugging him. She happily indulged his strange
requests when his cravings to feel her body on his became too much. She gave him bunny kisses,
which she said were only for people she cared about, and let him return them.

On the negative side of things, Asa’d almost kissed him that one time too, before she pulled away
unexpectedly. That rejection was unexpectedly soul crushing for him, though he tried his best to
hide it. She also talked in the short term, which made sense given that he couldn’t freeload at her
place forever, but also didn’t make him feel very good.

Ugh. Thinking somehow made his headache even worse. Denji wasn’t smart enough to piece clues
together like this.

Just…just as long as she doesn’t turn me away, I’ll be alright.

Part of Denji hated how easy he was in this regard. Hopelessly infatuated with and playing
housewife to a girl he’d known for barely more than a week. Most of him didn’t mind it though.
Denji didn’t even miss what was happening in the world beyond the apartment while he waited for
Asa to come home, though he wished he could take Asa outside on dates. Even if they were just
going to the grocery store, a park, or somewhere else equally mundane.

Denji could see himself doing this for the rest of his life. Not in a hypothetical “if he was normal”
timeline this time, but in a “right here and right now” sense. Asa could be a doctor, nurse,
accountant, or whatever made her happy. It didn’t matter. Denji could be there by her side,
supporting her in any way he could.

His entire chest seized up.

A dream it is, and a dream it will remain.

Denji pressed her open palm to his cheek and tried to breathe.

All that matters is that she doesn’t hate me.

If she knew everything about him, would she still hug him?

Probably not.

Denji squeezed his eyes shut as his chest finally relaxed enough to take in a bit of oxygen. He
couldn’t let newfound worries about the near future and hypotheticals overtake his mental state.
Even if today got off on the wrong foot, Denji was still determined to make it a nice relaxing day
of movies and food.

Don’t mess it up.

“Agh. Man, this one’s in subtitles,” Asa groaned as examined the back cover of a VHS tape. “I
should’ve checked closer before I got it.”

Asa and Denji slept in a little bit longer while waiting for the washing machine on the first floor to
finish cleaning the bloodied clothing and sheets. After that, Asa precariously strung up clotheslines
across the living space and hung the laundry up. The stains in the sheets weren’t out completely,
but they’d faded to the point where they weren’t too noticeable unless one was looking for them.
Asa refused to let Denji help. Instead, she made sure he kept warm and took regular sips of water.
After redressing and a late light breakfast (Denji being restricted to a plain rice ball for his
stomach), they bundled up together in front of the television.

With his headache reduced to a thrumming sensation and clean clothing, Denji felt a little less
shitty after two more hours of sleep. Good enough to at least pay attention to movies.

Denji liked movies, but he wasn’t crazy about them in the way he discovered Asa was. When she
watched movies, she was enraptured by the moving picture in front of her. Denji was happy
enough to be along for the ride.

“Is that the…'violin-something’ movie?” Denji sneaked a piece of movie theater buttered popcorn
in his mouth while Asa wasn’t looking and chewed. Asa was doing a valiant job trying to eat
movie snacks for the both of them since his stomach couldn't handle much of anything rich right
now.

The first two movies they watched were pretty good. They’d just finished Fist of Fury, a martial
arts film with crazy fights. The Japanese dub didn’t fit the actors’ lip movements, but Denji could
overlook that for the wicked choreography. He’d found the movie they watched before that—The
Something, the Something, and the Something—was really stylish. The main guy was super cool—
Asa told him that she used to pretend to be him as a child when her father and she played cowboys.

“Yeah, it is.” Asa’s face was screwed into her “deep concentration” expression as she read over the
blurb again. “Was thinking about this movie this morning…you probably wouldn’t like it, so let’s
not worry about this one.”

Hold on, now wait a minute. Why wouldn’t I like it?

“Well, now I want to see it.”

“You said you can’t read fast enough for subtitled things.”

“If ya willing to pause it and explain what’s happening every couple of scenes, that’s fine with
me.”

“It’s a three and a half hour long movie.”

“Psssh, I can take that.”

“It’s a musical too.”

“What’s that?”

“Characters start singing songs and dancing when their emotions get to them. It…it’s
understandable if that’s kinda off-putting.”

“I’ll try everything once.”

“...It’s probably not the type of romance you meant when you mentioned wanting to watch a
romance movie.”

“I don’t know the first thing ‘bout romance movies. You said it’s one of your favorites last night,
right?”

Asa’s cheeks reddened. “Yeah, it is.”

“I want to see all of your favorite movies. So, put it in.”

“Oh…okay, but if you aren’t enjoying it, we will stop watching it.”

“Deal.”

Asa slipped the tape in and pressed play. They watched a jovial-looking man with a big beard give
a quick monologue before the movie shifted into its first musical number, all before the credits.
Asa stopped the movie, rewound it, and paused it.

“You need to know that entire bit to understand the rest of the movie, so…here’s my attempt at it.
Don’t laugh, okay?” Asa gathered herself before jumping into character.

“A fiddler on the roof. Sounds crazy, no? But here, in our little village of Anatevka, you might say
every one of us is a fiddler on the roof trying to scratch out a pleasant, simple tune without
breaking his neck. It isn't easy. You may ask 'Why do we stay up there if it's so dangerous?' Well,
we stay because Anatevka is our home. And how do we keep our balance? That I can tell you in
one word: tradition!”
She recited the entire monologue in Japanese, complete with appropriate inflections and a bit of an
accent. Denji’s mouth dropped open in shock as he marveled at her unexpectedly decent acting
abilities.

“How’d you do that?”

Asa turned a splotchy red. “There…there’s a Japanese cast recording of Fiddler on the Roof from
1979. Um, I wore out that cassette because I listened to it so much. So, yeah.”

“That’s so cool!”

“It’s pretty lame, actually.”

“Whoever thinks it’s lame’s just jealous.”

Asa rolled her eyes affectionately, but she couldn’t wipe the unwelcomed smile off of her face.

And so it continued, with Asa occasionally pausing the movie after a scene to translate lines,
answer questions, and give context where it was needed.

Fiddler on the Roof was about a dairy farmer named Tevye, his wife Golde, and their five
daughters living in a rural Russian village a long time ago. They live their lives dictated by the
strict traditions set out by their Jewish faith. Being a poor man with five daughters to provide for,
Tevye is eager to marry off his three oldest daughters to good men who will care for them.
Unfortunately for Tevye, the men that his daughters fall in love with increasingly challenge his
abilities to adhere to his traditions.

The scene that made Denji really begin paying attention to the movie was when the tailor stood up
for himself.

In the movie, Tevye’s practical oldest daughter Tzeitel is initially betrothed to Lazar Wolf, the
village’s wealthy old butcher. They announce the marriage to the whole village, complete with a
party and everything. The only problem is that Tzeitel loves Motel, the village’s meek tailor and
her childhood best friend, and they’ve already secretly made a pledge to marry.

In the scene, Tzeitel begs her father to call off the betrothal in their family’s barn before Motel
awkwardly waltzes in to offer himself as the bridegroom. Tevye calls Motel’s offer ridiculous and
berates the two for going against tradition.

That is, until Motel stands up for himself. When Tevye calls him “poor,” Motel says, “That's true,
Rep Tevye, but even a poor tailor is entitled to some happiness!"

The tailor grabs Tzeitel’s hand and declares, “I promise you, Rep Tevye, your daughter will not
starve. "

Tevye, touched by their devotion to each other, calls off Tzeitel’s betrothal to the butcher. To come
up with an honorable reason to break off the arrangement, Tevye concocts an elaborate dream
about Lazar Wolf’s dead wife coming back from the grave and swearing to kill Tzietel if the girl
marries her living husband.

Tevye lies, going against his traditions, because he loves his daughter just that much.

Tzeitel’s and Motel’s wedding was the first scene to make Denji cry. Not full on sobbing or
anything crazy like that. Just a couple of tears.
“Denji?” Asa asked with alarm in her voice.

Even though he couldn’t understand a single word, the song the wedding party sung over shots of
the newlyweds pledging themselves to each other was beautiful. When the camera cut away to
Tevye looking at his daughter with so much love in his eyes, Denji felt something profound in the
very depths of his chest. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the screen until the scene was
finished.

“This is really good so far. M’glad we’re watching it,” Denji managed as Asa paused the movie.

He wanted to know what they were saying.

“Asa, can you sing that song?”

“...What?”

Denji remembered her humming something to him in the midst of his panic the first night they
shared the futon. She had a nice voice.

“I’d really like to know what they’re saying.”

“...Look, I’ll be honest—I can’t sing very well.”

“It doesn’t have to be good. I just want to hear your version of it.”

“Really, I—”

“—Please?”

Asa thought about the request long and hard.

“You’re the only one I’ll do this for, you know?” Asa griped, but she kept her tone gentle.

Denji felt himself blush.

Asa rewound the tape, played the first couple seconds of the song before Teyve began singing the
opening lyrics, paused the movie, cleared her throat, hummed a note, and began.

Denji loved one part in particular.

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly flow the days

Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers

Blossoming even as we gaze…

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly fly the years

One season following another

 Laden with happiness and tears…

When Asa finished, she cleared her throat again and nervously ran her fingers through her mussed
up hair. She hadn’t brushed it today. True to her word, it was very frizzy in its natural unaltered
state.

“You have a pretty singing voice.”

Asa didn’t seem to know how to respond to that.

“Uhm…let's go back to the movie, shall we?” she asked.

“‘Kay.”

After Tevye’s oldest daughter marries, Tevye encounters yet another great challenge. His highly
independent second daughter, Hodel, falls in love with Perchik, a traveling student revolutionary
that Teyve hired to teach his daughters how to read.

When they tell him of their engagement right before the student is about to leave, Tevye is again
furious. This time, neither of them asked him for his approval to marry, as is his faith’s custom.

“You’re not asking for my permission?” Teyve exclaims.

“But we would like your blessing, Papa,” Hodel replies.

“As soon as I can, I will send for her and marry her. I love her,” Perchik says.

Tevye takes the time to think before responding.

“He loves her,” Tevye monologues to himself, “Love. It’s a new style. On the other hand, our old
ways were once new, weren’t they?...I’ll lock her up in her room. I couldn’t…I should…but look at
my daughter’s eyes. She loves him.”

For his daughter, Tevye again goes against his traditions, giving the two his blessing (and
permission).

Cue Denji’s tears. Asa didn’t speak this time, instead offering her hand to hold while they
continued the movie.

Tveye leaves to break the news of his daughter’s unconventional engagement to his wife.

“He’s a good man, Golde. I like him. And what’s more important, Hodel likes him. Hodel loves
him. So, what can we do? It’s a new world…a new world. Love. Golde…do you love me?”

Golde muses over how they’ve been married for twenty-five years, reminiscing from the very first
moment they met on their wedding day until now.

“For twenty-five years, I’ve lived with him, fought with him, starved with him. Twenty-five years,
my bed is his…if that’s not love, what is?”

“Then you love me?”

“I suppose I do.”

“And I suppose I love you too.”

After the song was over, Asa paused the movie and explained the scene, translating quite a bit of
the dialogue while she was at it.

“He really asked her if she loved him like that?”

Denji only ever heard “I love you” like that in sappy romance movies that he’d seen clips of
playing on televisions for sale in department stores.

“Yeah…I think it works pretty well, though you’re free to disagree.”

It was Asa’s turn to dab at her eyes.

“...I’ve always loved that scene.”

Denji considered her reaction carefully and squeezed the hand that he was holding.

“Shall we continue?” Asa asked hurriedly, taking up the remote in her free hand.

“‘Kay.”

In the next scene, Tveye sees Hodel to the train station. Hodel has decided to travel to desolate and
freezing Siberia to be with Perchik, who was recently arrested and convicted for revolutionary
activities.

“I must go. Who could imagine I’d be wandering so far from the home I love. Yet there with my
love, I’m home.”

Again, because Tevye loves his daughter so much, he trusts her decision and lets her go.

When he comes home, he learns from Golde that his bookish third daughter, Chava, has run off to
marry a farmer from another faith. Chava finds Tevye pushing his broken cart though a field and
begs for him to accept their marriage.

"Accept them? How can I accept them? How can I deny everything that I believe in? On the other
hand, can I deny my own daughter? On the other hand, how can I turn my back on my faith? My
people? If I try to bend that far, I'll break.”

Tevye can’t do it. He walks away as Chava stands alone among the withered wheat. As he wanders
through the misty field, he remembers how Chava used to be as a little girl.

“Little bird, little Chaveleh. I don’t understand what’s happening today. Everything is all a blur.
All I can see is a happy child…everybody’s favorite child. Gentle and kind and affectionate, the
sweet little bird you were, Chaveleh.”

Denji watched a rather blurry Asa sing those lines with tears dripping down her chin. He reached
over and wiped them away. Asa gave him a watery smile and leaned her head against his shoulder.

The movie concludes with everyone in Anatevka being forced off of their land (a “pogrom,” Asa
explained.) Tevye’s family is set to immigrate to the United States. Before they leave, they learn
Chava and her husband are also planning to move elsewhere.

Despite all of his traditions, Tevye still loves his daughter more. He forgives Chava, murmuring
under his breath a parting blessing and asking Golde to repeat it to his daughter.

It was a bittersweet note to end the story on. After the screen went black, Asa turned off the
television with the remote and placed her head back on Denji’s shoulder.
 They sat in silence for a long time, to the point where Pochita awoke, stretched, gave a yap, and
went about nestling in between them.

“I want that,” Denji began quietly. His headache flared up again during the last ten minutes of the
film. It took his entire stamina to stay focused, but he didn’t regret it one bit.

“Hm?” Asa began petting Pochita’s side as the devil shoved his head into her lap.

“...It’s stupid.”

“Tell me.”

“Basically, I want to be Tevye.”

“How?”

“I want a bunch of friends who want to spend time with me.”

I don’t want to be alone anymore.

“I want a little place of my own, with chickens, turkeys, and ducks walking around.”

I want a home.

“I want a bunch of daughters who’ll break my heart, but like, in a good way.”

I wanna love with everything I got.

“I want to be with someone who would still want to love me after twenty-five years of being
together.”

I want to be yours.

They were unreasonably selfish requests, but they were honest.

“Those aren’t impossible dreams.”

Denji brought her hand to the side of his neck and pressed her fingers down on his fluttering and
erratic pulse. His heart violently spasmed sideways in his chest. For the briefest second, Denji
wondered if someone could cough their heart clean out of their body.

“They are for me. Fuck, Asa. Can’t ya see I’m breaking down right in front of you?”

Don’t leave me, Denji silently begged her.

With his fears irrefutably confirmed, Denji was terrified of dying alone.

Chapter End Notes

I haven’t listened to the actual 1979 Japanese cast recording of Fiddler on the Roof, so
I don’t know what their actual translation is for “Do You Love Me?” but I like to
imagine that, fitting into Tevye’s character, he’s hoping to hear the expression
“aishiteru (愛してる)” from his wife. Though it translates pretty directly to “I love
you” in English, it’s a phrase in Japanese saved only for really special occasions (like
weddings or final good-byes). From what I’ve read (please note I know basically no
Japanese), it can be a really awkward or corny thing to say in the wrong contexts.
Asa’s a closeted romantic in this fic, so I can see her really loving such a scene.
 Chapter 13
Chapter Notes

Hello! Happy Chainsaw Tuesday!

Regarding last week’s episode, it was crazy how they animated the scene with
Himeno twice! I don’t think I’ve ever seen an anime flex like that. It’s a hella uncomfy
scene, but Denji was animated beautifully in it. I hope he gets to make those
expressions for someone who actually loves him down the road. ): One can dream.

I’m very much looking forward to the upcoming manga chapter with the impending
date. I hope we get some cringy fluff while we are at it, or maybe even a Nayuta
and/or Yoshida interruption.

Regarding this chapter, there’s a lengthy scene of intimacy between Denji and Asa
that’s pretty important to their character progression in this story. If you want to skip
it, stop after “Be selfish, it’s okay. I want you to be,” and resume at “Can I tell you
something important?”

As always, thank you for reading!

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Asa and Denji didn’t manage to watch any more movies or eat hamburgers on Sunday. Denji’s
health declined dramatically after they watched Fiddler on the Roof. He spent the rest of that
evening asleep in the middle of an Asa and Pochita sandwich on the futon. Asa tried to
occasionally stop holding him and read an assigned chapter of her textbook, but he’d wake up in a
panic when she wanted him to rest.

Denji was more important than a bunch of dead French philosophers arguing over the meaning of
life. For the first time since her first year in middle school, Asa didn’t finish a reading assignment
before it was due.

Asa didn’t sleep that night. The pallor of his skin and his stillness in slumber freaked Asa out. She
could do nothing more than watch his chest rise and fall while holding his wrist to monitor his
pulse.

His hands were oddly pale and colder than they should be with blue-violet fingertips. Asa kept
rubbing Denji’s hands, hoping that pink would come back into his skin. His digits stayed blue.

For the first time since her third year of primary school, Asa called in sick on Monday to both
school and work.

“Your name is…what again, dear?”

“Mitaka,” Asa wound her fingers through the telephone booth’s cord. “Like ‘three’ and ‘falcon.’
Mitaka Asa.’”
“…Which class—oh, here you are…your absence is noted. We’ll have someone bring you your
homework.”

“Thank you.”

Asa hoped the messenger wasn’t the weird Devil Hunter pretty boy with the deadened stare.

The phone conversation with her boss Furuno was similar, though he provided a much more
empathetic ear to her abhorrent “cold.”

“Do you need anything? Stew? Sandwiches? Rice balls?”

“No, I’ll be okay.”

“Oh…okay, just let me know if that changes. Will you be in tomorrow?

“I hope so.”

“Get some sleep!”

It was odd to have a boss who cared so much for his employees, but Asa appreciated his words and
gestures. She hated lying to him.

“Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

Asa hung up the telephone and leaned against the phone booth’s glass pane. Snow fell in thick
clumps around her. The snow swallowed up every scrap of sound and made this dingy apartment
complex dazzle and glitter in the morning sun. She’d thrown her downy coat over her pajamas and
ran out the door to call before school started. Her legs, covered by a single layer of flannel, were
cold.

Asa hated cold.

She hurried back to the apartment. The damned urutau sat on the railing in front of her apartment.
Asa ignored the bird this time. Denji wasn’t going to be up to greet her. She slipped inside and
locked the door without a word.

Asa spent the morning and afternoon holding Denji underneath a gigantic pile of blankets and
warm fabric. His wrist didn’t leave her hand as she paid attention to every single heartbeat. A
sleeping Pochita rested on his stomach. Denji didn’t wake.

No one brought Asa her homework.

Asa held Denji until her stomach couldn’t stand it any longer.

Asa slipped out of bed to make dinner. If she let the ground beef for hamburgers sit for any longer,
it would spoil.

The meal was simple: cheeseburgers with sliced tomatoes, lettuce, cheese, and ketchup. Asa went
on autopilot as she prepared the food.

I wanted to make these with Denji, Asa thought over a bowl of raw mixed hamburger beef. Making
dinner shouldn’t make her feel lonely.

Asa checked Denji every approximately five minutes or so, hoping that he’d wake up and want to
eat with her. He didn’t wake.
As Asa washed the bright red tomato in the sink, Pochita joined her in the kitchen.

“Decided to finally get up, eh, Pochita?”

He barked and came closer, trying to sit down near her ankles.

Asa was fairly comfortable around Pochita when he was in the presence of Denji, but encounters
between them alone still made her nervous. Asa tried to casually sidestep Pochita as she went to
make the first slice on the tomato.

“Ah—!”

Asa missed the tomato. She sliced a deep gash into her left thumb instead, right above her first
knuckle, with her serrated knife.

“Ah, crap—”

Asa ran over to the sink, turned on the water, and ran the water red in the sink.

Wait…

An awful idea came over her. The most wretched notion. She would’ve never considered it if she
wasn’t desperate.

“Pochita?” Asa asked as she glanced over to the devil sitting by her feet. His nose-like apparatus
was mere centimeters away from her right ankle.

“Can you heal Denji’s heart condition?”

Pochita shook his head. Asa’s chest hurt with a certain sense of betrayal.

“You said he’ll be okay…but he's getting worse. How do you explain that?”

Pochita shrugged. White hot fury ran across Asa’s mind for a moment before she calmed herself
down. Devils were scum, but this devil loved Denji and treated her kindly. Pochita hadn’t wanted
to kill her yet.

“Look…do you…do you make contracts?”

Asa’s classmates spoke about contracts in private, whispering about how cool it would be to have
one as if she wasn’t there. The Devil Hunter Club—Akoku, Furioso, Iseumi, and the others—was
especially guilty about this. They discussed contracts as if they weren’t ridiculously illegal for
anyone who wasn’t a licensed Devil Hunter. Asa judged them for it, yet here she was yearning for
the same thing.

You’re a hypocrite, Mitaka Asa.

Pochita tilted his head, thinking for a bit before nodding. Sweat of anticipation trickled down Asa’s
spine.

“I know what I am about to say might come back to bite me in the ass, but I need you to listen to
me very closely.”

Pochita gave Asa his full attention. Asa pressed her cut on her thumb in such a way that the blood
dripped into the center of her palm. She endured the pain until a small puddle of a half an ounce or
so of blood formed.
“In exchange for the blood in my hand…make a temporary contract with me. I want only one thing
from you.”

Pochita’s eyes went big.

“Even if you can’t heal Denji…can make him feel physically better—as best as you can—until
Sunday? Alleviate some of his symptoms?”

Asa held her cut hand out to Pochita.

Pochita shook his head.

“Is…is that too long of a time period to ask for?”

Pochita nodded.

“Friday, then?”

Pochita shook his head.

“Thursday?”

Another shake.

“Can you do it until Wednesday mid-morning?”

Pochita gave a quiet bark, nodded vigorously, and began to lap blood from her palm. His cat-like
tongue was rough against her skin. When he pulled away, the cut stopped bleeding. A heated
sensation flowed from her wrist to her fingertips. Asa watched as the cut knit itself back together
into a faint pink line. Her thoughts went to the many scars that decorated Denji’s skin.

“...Thank you.”

Pochita gave a doggy-like yawn and left. He headed back towards the partitioned bedroom.

Denji finally woke up Tuesday morning. Asa’s dozing self jolted awake when he shifted in her
arms. She hadn’t slept more than an hour or two that night, a necessity given that she’d stayed up
completely the night before.

“Asa…?” He blinked blearily as his eyes adjusted to the relatively low light.

“Hey.” Asa tried to contain her relief as she looked at his fingertips. They weren’t blue and cold
anymore.

Did the contract work?

“What…what time is it?”

“It’s 6:30 in the morning.”

“On Monday?”

“No, Tuesday.”

“... Tuesday?”
“Tuesday.”

“...Fuck.” Denji’s voice tightened. “Why aren’t you getting ready?”

“Debating on staying home again from school. I’m worried about you.”

“Again?”

“Yep. Stayed home yesterday to watch over you.”

“From what?”

“Work and school.”

“Both?” Denji’s breath caught in his throat. “Asa, you can’t stay home another day. You gotta go
to school and work.”

“You’re more important to me—”

“ Please, Asa. I’ll be okay. Please go do what you gotta do.”

“...Okay.”

When Asa got back from a full shift of work, she found him hastily sitting up in the futon, still
underneath the covers and in the clothing he’d woken up that morning in.

“Hey, I’m back.”

“Welcome back.”

He had red rimmed eyes, but his complexion was better than yesterday. Worry gnawed away at her
stomach. Pochita sat beside him.

“...What’s on your mind?”

“Just…just don’t worry about me today, okay?” Denji asked in an uncharacteristically stiff
manner. “Do what you gotta get done.”

Asa stepped back, her chest feeling tight.

“Oh…okay.”

Denji’s somewhat negative reaction got Asa thinking.

Is it better to hold him tonight, or would it be better to not hold him so things are less awkward in
the morning?

If Asa really thought about it, Denji was effectively her prisoner. She lured him here by a rumored
threat and essentially trapped him here by fear of violence. Asa hated that realization. Denji was
pretty lucky that she was a person with good intentions. Someone else could’ve easily taken
advantage of him.

It was probably miserable to be trapped in a tiny apartment like this too, for days on end. If Asa
was in his shoes, she’d be playing into her captor’s good graces too if she had to, pretending to like
their physical touch and stuff.

Based on his reactions, Denji seemed to want to get out of here as soon as he could. Asa didn’t
blame him for feeling this way. She’d react in the exact same manner. Asa wanted to make sure
that it was clear to him that he could leave.

“Denji?” Asa peeked into the bathroom.

“Hm?” Denji spoke through a mouth full of toothpaste foam as he braced himself over the sink and
looked over his shoulder at her.

“Tomorrow…I want you to know that you can leave as early as possible, you know, like before
eight. Like, if you want to slip out before the door before I wake up, that’s okay too. I’m happy to
pack up some fruit and stuff for you to take with you tomorrow if you like, since it’ll be a couple
months until your birthday—if you still want to come over for cake then. No pressure, though.”

A shadow came over Denji’s face, but he nodded just the same.

“Food t’would be nice. Thathks.”

“Sure. Do…do you know what kinda cake you’d like me to make yet?”

Denji shrugged. “Surprise me.”

“Oh…okay.”

That response felt wrong.

After Asa emerged from her shower that evening and changed into her pajamas, she entered her
partitioned bedroom to find Denji sitting upright on top of the futon. Pochita sat in his lap as Denji
petted the devil carelessly and seemed lost in thought.

“Hi.”

“Hey.”

“How’ve you been feeling today?”

“Not good, but not as bad as Sunday or yesterday.”

“Oh. Progress, I suppose?”

The contract worked.

“I guess.”

Asa noticed that he wore the ribbed undershirt that he arrived in, paired with a pair of the charcoal
grey boxers she bought for him. She’d managed to get the stains out of the shirt, but the wear and
tear on the garment remained.

He must be really ready to go. For her own heart’s sake, Asa decided that it probably would be a
better idea not to cuddle. He was about to leave and she didn’t need to make the situation any more
complicated than it was already.
“How’s your chest?”

“No pain right now.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah.”

“I packed up some food and put it in the fridge for you.”

“Thanks.”

Pochita jumped off of Denji’s lap and left the partitioned bedroom.

“…Where’s he going?”

“No idea. He’ll be okay though, I think.”

“…Alright. Can I turn the light off?”

“Oh, yeah. Go ahead.”

Asa clicked off the overhead light and settled under the comforter. She turned onto her stomach,
angled her head away from Denji, and tucked her arms under her head.

“Good night, Denji.”

“‘Night.”

Asa feigned sleep. Her anxiety mounted as Denji tossed and turned for half an hour behind her.
Something happened by the thirty minute mark. Something broke. Denji let out full, loud, body
wracking sobs as he curled up into a ball.

Asa’s heart leapt into her throat as she turned over and pulled back the covers.

“…Denji?” Asa didn’t bother to fake sleepiness in her voice. Her medically-minded brain was back
in full throttle as she went to turn on the overhead light.

He refused to—or couldn’t—answer her.

“Hey, Denji. Talk to me.”

Asa pushed him onto his back, but he covered his face with both forearms.

“Denji, I can’t read your mind,” Asa said desperately. She attempted to pull his arms away, but he
was stronger than her. Finally, she straddled right his body above his hips for leverage and forced
his arms apart. With all of her strength, Asa pinned his wrists above his head. He breathed heavily,
as if the ten seconds of exertion against her was too much.

“Denji, listen to me. What’s wrong?”

“I wanna say it, but I dun’ want ya to hate me,” he cried. Any attempt at polite or grammatically
correct speech vanished in a hurry.

“You can’t do anything to make me dislike you.”

Denji’s mouth moved, but Asa couldn’t read his lips.

“Louder, I can’t hear you.”

“…Did I do something wrong?” Denji repeated haltingly.

“…No? Why?”

“You’re not holding me.”

“Denji—”

“Rest of my body’s fine, but my head hurts so fucking bad. The only time it doesn’t hurt is when
ya hold me, and you’re not holding me. This…this is the first night that you haven’t even asked,
and I don’t know what exactly I did wrong.” Denji spoke quickly, the words spilling out seemingly
without a filter.

“Denji—”

“If it’s about this morning or when you got back today, I didn’t mean all that in, like, a bad or mean
way. I feel like shit for talking to you in such a manner. I’m really, really sorry. I’m…I’m actually
super happy that ya worry about me. M’sorry I have been as helpful to you the past two and a half
days too. Not doing it on purpose, I swear. Not tryna be a freeloader or take advantage of you. I—
I’ve never been this useless—”

Asa wanted to tell him to shut up, that it wasn’t his fault that he wasn’t feeling well.

Stop apologizing!

He didn’t need those words right now. He needed to hear something else. Asa frantically searched
for the answer as he kept babbling.

“I wanted to cook for ya, I—I really did s—so badly and now I don't have time…I…I—I’m sorry…
I’ll be gone as soon as I can tomorrow, don’t wanna bother you no more…though I…though I
actually d—don’t want to leave at all. I know I have to—I can’t put you in more danger—’m so
sorry—please, please don’t hate me—”

What?

“—Denji, listen to me. I don’t hate you at all.”

That caught Denji’s attention. He quieted down under her.

“Tell me what I have to do to make you feel better.”

“…‘Better?’”

“Now.”

He looked up at her with shiny eyes and a tear-streaked face.

“Huh?”

“Be selfish, it’s okay. I want you to be.”

His response was instant.

“Fucking touch me.”

“…Eeh?”

Asa wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but she wasn’t expecting that request.

“Take my fucking clothes off and fucking touch me.”

The need in his grief-stricken voice was alarmingly urgent. It triggered Asa’s protective instinct in
an entirely new way. She was somehow both thrilled and extremely nervous.

“…Gladly.”

Asa ran her fingertips under the hem of his shirt, briefly caressing his hip bones before helping him
shimmy out of it. She tossed it over her shoulder. If she could keep him, she’d burn that shirt and
every other reminder of the life he lived before he became hers.

“Hips up.”

Denji did as she requested. Asa—still with some pretense of modesty in her mind despite Denji’s
careless attitude—kept her eyes from his shoulders up. He watched her with a pretty flush and
wide-eyed fascination. Fear, though, flitted over his face as she managed to peel his boxers down to
his knees.

“Ah—don’t look,” Denji gasped, his entire frame stiffening under her as he went to cover himself.
His freshly washed and unbrushed wavy hair fell away from his forehead.

“Look where?” Asa put her hands up in surrender and averted her eyes.

“Um, between my legs.”

“I won’t, but can…can I know why?” Asa asked gently. Nothing but mental alarms went off as she
began to knee walk backwards.

Denji made a desperate keening sound as he hurriedly finished stripping the boxers off of his legs
and threw them on the floor.

“No—sorry—come back,” Denji added, breathing heavily. His face turned from rose to scarlet and
the color traveled down to the top of his ribs. Denji pulled Asa back to him by the arm, and pinned
her in place above him with his legs encircling her hips.

“Don’t leave.”

“Okay, okay, I’m not going anywhere,” she murmured as she braced herself above him. Asa felt
the lean muscles twitching in his thighs and his erection pinned between their stomachs. Asa felt a
large wet spot forming against her shirt at the tip.

“Good,” Denji bit out as he wrapped his arms around her neck and pressed his cheek to hers.

She couldn’t really move with Denji’s legs in a vice grip around her, but she tried her best to make
space between the rest of their bodies. Denji just held on tighter in response.

“…No, you should know.”

Denji sobered for a moment, unhooking his legs from her waist and his arms from around her neck
before taking Asa’s dominant hand and trailing it between their bodies. He avoided having her
touch him directly, until he bent her hand into a cupping motion. He hesitated before her fingers
made contact.
“You…you okay with this?” Denji asked.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Cause it’s…gross.”

“Denji…”

“Like a really embarrassing kind of ‘gross.’”

Asa’s sex education ran through her brain.

“Like…venereal diseases? STDs?”

“What?”

“Herpes, warts, lice, crabs...” Asa searched for other non-fancy names and found none.

“Asa,” Denji began before he gave a little half laugh-half cry. “Imma complete virgin. Not ‘gross’
like that. I’d never do anything that could hurt ya like that.”

“Then show me what you’re referring to.”

Denji pressed Asa’s cupped hand against his scrotum.

Asa’s mind went numb as an anatomical chart of the human ball sack popped into her brain. The
skin in her hand was soft and pliable. She knew that this anatomy was delicate and could be hurt
very badly with even one wrong move.

Denji removed his hand from hers and hid his face with the crooks of his elbows.

“You can look if you need to,” Denji added.

Asa sat back on her heels so that she could see what she was looking at.

The selfish part of her brain thought that Denji was kind of beautiful, his body presented to her like
this, with his legs pulled up to his bare chest and spread. Every nerve was on fire and it was all
because of her. The rational part of her brain, though, focused on his ball sack. When compared
with her mental anatomy chart, Asa noticed that it was smaller than she expected and lopsided.

“Press down a little,” Denji ordered, his words slightly muffled by his obscured face.

Asa did as told and felt around in a quite clinical manner. Denji’s hips spasmed upwards and a little
pool of clear pre-ejaculate formed on his belly, but he didn’t remove hands from his face. While
chasing off the unwelcome thought that testicles kind of felt like firm oversized grapes, Asa could
only find one testicle when, if her anatomical studies were correct, there usually was two.

“You’re…you’re missing a testicle?”

Denji tried to nod under the weight of his arms, but a sob caught in his throat. His entire chest
rapidly shrunk and expanded as the small sob gave way to gut-wrenching cries underneath her. The
hairs on the back of Asa’s neck stood straight up and the smallest bit of uncomfortable arousal she
had was gone in an instant.

“Denji…”
Asa pried Denji’s arms away from his face. He tried to avoid her eyes, but Asa again pinned his
arms above his head and made firm eye contact.

“What’s ‘gross’ about that?” Asa’s tone was more challenging than she meant it to be.

“Can I have my hands back? Please?” Denji’s shaky voice broke.

Asa let go of both of his hands, again putting her own up in surrender. He reached for one of her
hands, which she gave readily. Denji moved her hand to a small indented scar that ran horizontal at
where his mons pubis met his hip. Another surgery scar.

“A…” Asa paused, searching for the term, “a partial orchiectomy isn’t that weird. Lots of guys go
through it for a lot of different reasons.”

“I sold it.” His voice was rough as he tried to explain everything through his emotions. “Some
back-alley creep offered me a little less than a hundred thousand yen for it. I was behind on my
rent, so I agreed to it. That’s what’s ‘gross.’”

Asa didn’t know how to respond to that. A cold shiver ran down her back.

“Sold my right eye too, a couple years ago. Three hundred thousand yen,” Denji recounted as he
peeled back his eyelid, showing off the fleshy red gap where an eyeball should be. “Thought I’d be
okay after losing it. Biggest fucking mistake ‘cause it turned my pretty good eyesight to shit. It’s a
lot harder to guess how far things are away from me now than it used to be.”

Denji must’ve seen how she flinched at the sight, for he grabbed her hand again and pressed it
firmly against the ugly kidney donation scar on his lower stomach.

“A kidney as well. One million, two hundred thousand yen. Nearly died. All…all for my father’s
debt.”

Denji tried to laugh, but the attempt collapsed into wide-eyed sobs with gritted teeth and a terrified
expression.

“I’ll do almost anything to survive. I’ll…I’ll even let strangers cut organs out of my body.”

“…Do you expect me to hate you because you don’t have certain organs?” Asa asked numbly.

“When we first met, I know I smelled so fucking bad. Bet ya immediately thought I was some
freak with a fucking rotting roadkill stench when ya first saw me. Know why I smelled and acted
like that?”

“…Why?”

“Hadn’t showered in nearly two months ‘cause no money for water. My main job’s killing devils
for the gang I’m in debt to. They sell their body parts on the black market and give me basically
nothing of the profit. Illegal devil hunting, Asa. Blood and guts get all over my clothes at least
once a week. S’not like some hand soap and a sink in a public bathroom’s gonna cut it,” Denji
hiccuped. “Acting and smelling like that also deters adults from trying to fuck ya. You forget how
to act normal if ya gotta perform from the moment you wake up to the moment you fall asleep.”

Asa went to run her fingers through his hair, but he grabbed her wrist and held it suspended in the
air between them.

“Wasn’t walking around looking dirty and smelling like that cause I liked being that way. I ain’t
stupid. I like being clean, ‘cept I can’t as often as I’d like to be ‘cause’m a broke hood rat.”

Asa didn’t know what to do. She wanted to embrace and reassure Denji, but he stayed her from
doing so with a trembling hand to her shoulder.

“What’m trying to get at, Asa, is that I’m a fucking loser. World’s better off without me in it, and it
will be soon ‘cause the gang’s probably gonna kill me as soon as I leave your place.”

Asa could practically feel his desperation flowing from his skin into hers. Asa didn’t want to
acknowledge what her heart already knew from Denji’s mouth, but her overwhelming urge to
comfort trumped the resulting emotions from such revelations. She had to come clean.

“I know.”

“…What?”

“Taking you and Pochita in was my idea, but a Devil Hunter from Public Safety requested that I
keep you for longer than a couple days. I don’t recall exactly why, something to do with workplace
politics. It’s why I asked you to stay until tomorrow. They…they also told me that the gang was
trying to find you.”

Denji’s grip on her shoulder tightened as he stared at her.

“You didn’t want to keep me for longer? You did it because some Devil Hunter asked you to?”

“I was…I was happy to do it. I wanted to do it before the Devil Hunter asked. When I said I’d
protect you with all I have, I really meant it. I’ve tried the best I can. I’m sorry it wasn’t enough.”

Denji’s grip got even tighter.

“So, I wanna know. Knowing all that about me and also taking into account that you were forced
into keeping me, how do you not think I’m fucking disgusting and worthless? Tell me,” Denji spit
through a tensed jaw. His good eye stared at her through tears of sorrow, confusion and anger.

Asa’d been wrong. She’d been overthinking things, hoping that she could distract her vulnerable
heart from growing attached to a boy that she knew was going to break it in one way or another.
Trying to fool herself into believing that he didn’t actually like her and her attention, when it
should’ve been obvious from the very start that Denji had a soft spot for her similar to the one she
had for him.

“I want your flowers.”

“Help me, please.”

“You’re back. You really came back.”

“You don’t have a boyfriend, do you?”

“What kind of guy do you like?”

“Please, I need it.”

“…Just happy you’re home and not hurt.”

“I…I like being naked for you, okay?”

“You can call me that (‘sweetheart’), if ya want.”

“I want to see all of your favorite movies.”

“I want to be with someone who would still want to love me after twenty-five years of being
together,” this boy said while he held her hand and allowed her to rest her head on his shoulder.

The scenes went through her memory in rapid succession. It was so fucking obvious.

Asa, you’re the dumbest asshole in all of Tokyo, she scolded herself. No wonder you’ve not gotten
sick in such a long time.

Asa looked down at this sweet-faced boy who’d practically fallen into her lap from the dumpster
gods. This guy eagerly greeted her by the door in the afternoon, cuddled with her, comforted her,
cleaned her apartment, washed her greasy hair, liked her theatrical antics, and even willingly and
intently watched three and a half hours of Fiddler on the Roof with her. The only things he ever
requested this entire time were microwave udon, some amusing but not unreasonable touches from
her, and a romance movie.

What sane girl would let a gem like him go?

“Easy. Denji, I like you.”

It was a simple statement, but it was true. Asa felt equal parts relief and dread at what his response
might be to her feelings that she’d been indecisive and delusional about for the past week.

Denji’s eye widened in shock before something shut down in his expression.

“No, you don’t,” Denji snarled back as he hastily wiped new tears away from his face with the heel
of his hand. Asa was desperate to have whatever that something was back. “There’s no way in hell
a pretty and smart girl like you would like a guy like me. Asa, I’m…I’m not smart—I can barely
read and do math. Don’t know shit about social science or any of those other things. Fuck, m’not a
good person either, as far as I can tell. I steal stuff, I break laws, I hurt people, I—”

“Have you hurt any animals?”

“No?”

“Have you hurt anyone who didn’t deserve it?”

“…No?”

“Then I don’t don’t care about all that.”

“I…I still don’t believe you.”

“You saying I’m fibbing?”

“Yup.”

“Well, I’m not. I’m not a liar.”

Asa gathered her tangled hair over one shoulder and leaned into him, ridding herself of the space
between them. She could feel his labored breaths and protruding ribs against her own form. She put
her weight on her elbows and forearms, bracketing his head between her arms as she did so.
“Do I have to prove myself?” Asa declared.

“Yep.” Denji challenged her with a dull eye.

“Fine.”

Asa leaned down and brushed the most delicate kiss she could muster across Denji’s lips. He made
a surprised noise through his nose and froze. Asa didn’t know how to kiss, really, but she tried to
recall how they were described in books and shown in movies. Soft lips, loose jaw, and good head
angle.

Asa’s stomach twisted into a knot as she leaned back to gauge his reaction. He looked stunned.

“Happy?” Asa said curtly.

“You’re just doing that to ‘cause you feel sorry for me. Trying to make me feel better,” Denji tried
to respond in a sour manner, but his voice cracked as he did.

“Hah? You think I go around kissing people I don’t like for the fun of it?”

“What? No—“

”Then what are you getting at?”

“That I…I—I don’t know what I’m trying to say. Can you just…just do it again?” Denji asked
gently.

“Right, right.”

Asa caught a glint of hope in his eye this time. Any anger had drained out of him in a hurry. He’d
begun to cry again too, which concerned her.

“Are you sure you want this?” Asa asked.

Denji nodded vigorously under her.

“More than anything else,” he whispered.

“Okay.”

As soon as her mouth touched the corner of his, he met and melted into her second kiss with a
desperate moan, reaching up to run his fingers into her hair. He lightly grabbed locks of it as he
kissed back with considerable restraint. His body shook under hers as he locked his legs around her
waist once again, pinning her in place.

Whatever was gone in that millisecond was back in full force. Asa’s heart warmed at the sight of it.

“Again, please?”

“Mhm.”

“…And again?”

“Yes.”

Asa kissed him again, and again, and again. She ended each one with a bunny kiss, after which
Denji made a deliciously needy noise and begged for another one. It didn’t take any convincing on
her part. Asa indulged him each time after she wiped away his happy tears with her sleeve.

It was obvious that Denji didn’t know how to kiss either. Their kisses weren’t good real kisses by
any stretch of the imagination for either of them, Asa supposed, but on her end, they were from
Denji and she didn’t care.

Asa didn’t force the kisses to go deeper, acknowledging the caution he seemed to have around his
teeth. She didn’t let her hands wander below his neck until after they broke their sixth kiss.

“Um, can I ask you for something weird?”

Asa sat up straight and looked down at him. Denji had gone completely limp underneath her. He
was flushed a beautiful rosy pink all the way up to his forehead and down to his sternum.
Goosebumps covered every square centimeter of his arms. Every bit of his body stood at attention
for her, and she relished in it.

“Hm?”

“Can…can ya touch me somewhere lower?”

“Like this?”

Asa reached out and caressed both of his pectorals. She was awarded with the most amazing hum
of happy pleasure, a sound Denji tried in vain to suppress.

“Sorry,” he got out.

“Nothing to be sorry about. I like the noises you make.”

Asa leaned over and kissed him again, a freebie that he didn’t even have to ask for but gladly
accepted. He granted her a louder and more shameless moan this time as they broke the kiss. The
sound went immediately to her gut.

“I like it here, but…” Denji covered his eyes with his upper arm before continuing, “I meant my
dick.”

“Your dick?”

“Yeah—you don’t have to though—actually—“

“—You’re gonna have to show me how to do it correctly.”

“Huh?”

“I’ve never done this before. You’re my first.”

“I am?”

“Yep.”

“…Y—you’re my first too.”

“I know! You just told me.”

“Just…just wanted to make it super clear,” he added hastily.

Asa wouldn’t have minded much if she wasn’t his first, but there was something comforting in
knowing that they were fumbling through this together. More selfishly, the notion that she was the
first one to see him like this was emboldening.

“Guide my hand, then.”

“Huh?”

“What I said.”

Asa removed her hands from his chest and interlocked her fingers with his dominant hand—hers on
the bottom and his on top.

“…Really?”

“Yes.”

Denji brought her palm up to his mouth and licked a long stripe of salvia from her wrist to her
fingertips. He slobbered over her hand until it was thickly coated in spit. It wasn’t really hot persay,
but Asa shivered anyway.

When he decided that it was wet enough, he hesitated.

“You’re sure that you’re not just doing this to just make me feel better?”

“Nope,” Asa said before she kissed his nose, “I’m doing it because I want to.”

“…‘Kay.”

He wrapped her hand around his already soaked dick.

Asa tensed a little in anticipation. She’d never spent the time wondering what a dick felt like
before, but here she was with the boy she liked’s erection in her hand. The skin here was thinner
and warmer than she imagined it to be, and the spongy tissue underneath was firmer than she had
expected.

Her analytical medically-minded brain issued forth an anatomical illustration.

Go away, Asa begged. Try as she might, it was not going anywhere.

“Up and down. Basically…don’t bend it or grip it too tight.” Denji, again slightly sobered, propped
himself partially up on his elbow. He spread his legs wider to accommodate Asa between them,
and curled the sides of his feet around her shins. He guided her hand slowly as he slowly began to
use his hips to fuck up into her loose grasp. She watched the lean muscles of his abdomen tense
and twitch just underneath his skin before she looked into his face.

Asa felt a little guilty in the way she enjoyed his face more than she enjoyed the activity itself—not
that she didn’t like the feeling of him trusting her in this way, though. He was so adorable, the way
he treated her hand with such regard and bit his lower lip with those pointed teeth as he did so. He
noticed her staring.

“What?”

“You’re really cute.”

Asa pressed her lips to the side of his throat. Denji’s pulse fluttered against her top lip as he craned
his neck to expose more of his skin there to her mouth.

“…No! No, m’not,” he protested weakly.

“Yes, yes you are.”

Asa continued to pepper the side of his neck with clumsy kisses.

“Not.”

“Are.”

Asa couldn’t help it. Her cute aggression was too much for her to handle.

Can…can I…?

She bit down very, very lightly over his carotid artery. Denji reacted accordingly, tensing slightly
before making a soft noise, growing wetter, and quickening his pace within her lazy grip.

“…N-not…” he got out.

“You’ll never be able to convince me that you’re not the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” Asa said
against his skin before she leaned back.

Denji didn’t have anything to add to the banter but a needy strangle of consonants as he cradled her
face in one hand and guided her to him for another kiss.

“…Sorry, I shouldn’t’ve have done that,” Asa admitted after they broke apart. Guilt dropped down
heavily on her conscience.

“…Did…did what?”

“The bite.”

“…That’s a bite?” Denji asked disbelievingly.

“Yeah.”

“Well, I liked it, thank you very much. I’ll tell ya if I don’t like something.”

Asa couldn’t help but smile. “You’re too good.”

“N…not sure about that,” Denji sputtered as she, now with a bit more confidence, slightly sped up
the pace and pressure between his legs.

“You’re very, very good.”

“Mmmnh…” was the only noise she got in response.

The cute aggression wasn’t stamped out entirely. Asa leaned down and kissed his bottom lip before
taking it between her teeth and pulling it gently. Denji squeaked in surprise and brought his free
hand up to her face to kiss her back.

“What happens if I touch the glans?” Asa asked into his mouth.

“The what?”
“The…” Asa tried to recall the non-anatomical term.

“The…the head?” Denji guessed.

“Yeah—that.”

“I’unno.”

Absolutely a lie, but she wasn’t about to argue.

“Can I try?”

“Aaah...”

“Words.”

“Please.”

Asa, still with Denji’s hand loosely encircling hers, pulled back his foreskin. She began
experimentally rubbing her fingers around the top and ridge of his dick and the pulled back skin—
the “ridged band” if she recalled correctly? When she ran her thumb across the taught ridge of skin
on the underside—“frenulum?”—Denji’s entire body convulsed.

“There—keep doing that,” he gasped, pulling his own hand away. He grabbed for the pillow above
his head and helplessly bucked his hips upward.

Asa couldn’t help but grin widely at his state. She leaned over to kiss his slackened mouth as she
continued working her hand between his legs. Denji eagerly kissed back as best he could (which
wasn’t very well at all but was full of enthusiasm and cute moans).

“Mmh—Asa—”

“—Hm?”

“—Let go and sit back. Now.”

Asa obeyed, getting out of the way just before his orgasm hit.

“Good boy,” Asa praised instinctively as Denji, gasping, looked up to her for support. The
vulnerability and trust was so apparent in his expression that it spooked her a little. Asa offered her
hand and Denji took hold of it tightly, not caring about it being covered in his precum.

“My very good boy.”

She rubbed the tender skin on the inside of his thigh with her clean hand as he silently shook
through the last of his prolonged orgasm, still twitching and pulsing long after he spilled multiple
times in a row. Asa was fascinated. He looked used in the best way possible as his sweaty body
collapsed from exhaustion. He looked up to her again, her hand still clasped in his, and searched
for approval in her eyes.

All mine.

“That was so cool. You’re amazing,” Asa murmured.

“Mhmm…”
 Asa gave him a quick bunny kiss in the afterglow. His orgasm had been so intense that the
ejaculate reached his neck. He made a sweet noise and stole one more awkward real kiss before
she had time to pull her head away.

“I’ll go clean up,” Denji said as he finally straightened his legs. His speech was a little slow and
slightly slurred.

He stopped moving and gave a wet-sounding cough into the crook of his elbow. The reality of his
current medical condition reared its ugly head. Asa’s skin went cold as an all encompassing ache
came over her body from head to toe.

“No, I’ll go get a towel.”

He furrowed his brows like he was about to protest, but his expression softened after a moment.

“‘Kay.”

Asa got up and grabbed washcloths from the closet. She returned to Denji, who was trying to keep
the trails of cum from falling off of his body and onto the sheets.

“Here, let me help.”

Asa pressed the towel down on his front and wiped him down completely. Denji’s good eye
followed her every movement as she switched to the cloth that she wetted in the bathroom to clean
away any residue that remained. Lastly, she wiped down their hands—his first, followed by hers.

“…Asa?”

“…Hm?”

“I need to tell you something important.”

“Yes?”

“I love you.”

“...You mean you ‘like’ me?”

“No,” Denji emphasized as his voice began to tremble. “I love you, like Fiddler on the Roof. Like
Tevye. M’sorry I didn’t tell you earlier.”

Chapter End Notes

So this last exchange doesn’t translate super duper well into English, but this chapter
ending has been stuck in my peanut brain since I started this fic so I’m sticking with it.
If this conversation was written competently in Japanese, I imagine that Denji’s
confession would be "aishiteru" (愛してる). Asa is asking for clarification, wondering
if he means “suki dayo (好きだよ)” instead. Of course, Denji (at least in this fic) isn’t
going to use such a weaksauce way of confessing his love, so he goes for the one he
thinks Asa believes is romantic.
 Chapter 14
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! No manga chapter this week, but I’m definitely
looking forward to the anime episode today! I wrote another oneshot with Katana Man
and Akane because they’re not gonna be around for much longer in the anime…you
can read it here if you’d like.

This is the last “breather” chapter of the story. I hope you enjoy it.

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

“Denji, I—”

“Don’t answer that,” Denji begged as he dug the fingernails of one hand into his bare thigh. “Don’t
think I could handle your answer either way—really.”

“…I understand.”

It was late. It would do no good for either of them to dwell on this bombshell that Denji just
dropped.

Ignore it. Asa mentally repeated the phrase ad nauseam.

“I’m going to grab a clean shirt and some tap water. Need anything?”

“...No, m’okay.”

Asa left the partitioned bedroom to grab water first. All this kissing business made her thirstier than
she expected to be.

In the darkened apartment, Pochita sat unmoving in front of the locked front door.

“Pochita?”

The devil didn’t answer. Asa observed hair standing on end along his spine. His tail twitched
irritably like a cat’s would.

He was concentrating on something.

“You hearing something over there, Pochita?”

Asa’s temptation to peer through the peephole disappeared as Pochita laid himself down along the
base of the door. Pochita made eye contact with Asa and let out a growl. A “shut up, go away”
mood settled upon the space. The sound made her heart skip a beat.
“I’ll leave you be. Come to bed when you can, yeah?” Asa said gently.

After she drained hers, Asa filled a glass of water for Denji and returned to the room.

“Water?”

“Thanks.”

Denji sat up, took the glass, and drank it down in big gulps. He set it on the floor beside the futon.

Asa changed shirts (facing away from him, of course), slipping on her father’s “CAKE” shirt. She
rejoined an exhausted Denji on the futon. He’d started to doze without her.

Asa gathered Denji’s naked body in her arms and held him tightly. It was her responsibility to
make sure his head didn’t hurt tonight, and she was ready to take it seriously.

Asa buried her nose in his hair and inhaled deeply. Denji smelled of his wonderful natural scent,
some sweat, and her vanilla-scented conditioner—a heavenly combination. Asa had only a few
minutes to memorize it.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Denji responded in barely above a whisper.

“Denji?”

“Hm?” Denji yawned.

“You know…we could still run. Buy late night train tickets and leave town before anyone notices.”

“Asa…I want to do that, but let’s be realistic.” Denji’s voice was shot from the events of the last
two hours. “The gang has connections. If we do that, they will hurt ya. M’not gonna allow that to
happen.”

Asa’s heart sank. If she was reckless, she’d say it was worth trying anyway. Denji guessed
correctly though—Asa would rather survive than not to.

“Denji?”

“Hm?”

“Give me this compromise: if you stay alive long enough to come back for your birthday cake, I
will give you my answer to…y’know…that.”

“What’s ‘that’?”

“Your confession.”

Denji stayed quiet. Asa pressed a kiss to the nape of his neck. Denji granted her with a quiet hum
of thanks.

“Deal. I’ll try my best to stay alive.”

Asa ran her hand down his forearm and found his hand.

Keep living, Denji. Please.

“Don’t expect much,” he added.

Asa swallowed her own emotions that she’d been trying to keep down the entire day.

“Do your best.”

“Asa?”

Someone ran their fingers through her knotted hair, gently detangling it as they did so.

“Hm?”

Asa felt like she was floating in a dreamstate. She usually woke up in a millisecond, but this was
her first instance of sleep after she tried to stay up for two nights consecutively. Everything was
slow and blurry. She saw a face with a black eyepatch hovering over her. That face was cutest
when it didn’t have anything obscuring it.

“I’m going now.”

It was a tender and kind voice. One filled with deep affection and devotion. Asa liked that voice
very, very much.

“Already?” Asa asked groggily.

“Mhm.”

“Back to bed. A few more minutes,” Asa grumbled. She tried to grab them by the wrist and pull
them back into bed with her. Their wrist wasn’t bare. A thick green coat covered their arm.

“Can’t.” Their lovely voice wavered in that word.

“Can’t?!”

“Gotta get going before shit hits the fan.”

“...Okay.”

They pressed their lips first to her forehead, then to both of her cheeks, and finally to her mouth.
Asa tried her best to kiss back competently before they pulled away.

“...Don’t get outta bed, I’ll see myself out. Go back to sleep.”

“Sure...”

Their hand squeezed hers once before letting go.

Asa’s arms were empty when she woke up to her alarm at six o’clock sharp.

Where’d he go?

In her half-awake state, Asa leapt out of the futon and checked every square centimeter of the
apartment for Denji or Pochita.
Denji’s red toothbrush was missing from the cupholder. The food she packed was gone from the
fridge. His clothing, which she’d washed to within an centimeter of its life, was absent from the
closet. His shoes weren’t by the front door. The front door itself was unlocked.

Ah.

Asa recalled the vague kiss.

He left early, just like I asked him to.

Asa squatted in the middle of the living room and hugged her knees to her chest.

Before I could beg him to stay.

The apartment felt deadly silent without Denji’s groans and Pochita’s morning yawns. The
thoughts she repressed last night came to her mind’s forefront.

He loves me and I let him down in the worst possible way. I’m the worst.

Asa locked the front door and got ready for the day at a snail’s pace.

“…And that’s why frogs like this one here have three heart chambers and we have four.”

When Asa looked up from the dissected frog that laid on the lab bench, she realized Mai and
Akoku weren’t paying attention. Mai picked at her sapphire blue nail polish and Akoku reviewed
his sad notes for the English quiz next class underneath the table.

Pairing Asa with two old childhood “friends” must’ve been a cruel joke on behalf of Mr. Tanaka.
Asa’s nerves worsened at the news. Akoku Seigi for obvious reasons, but also Mai. Asa couldn’t
even recall her former friend's surname, but she did remember how she dropped Mai’s chocolate
cake in spectacular fashion by tripping over her feet at Mai’s seventh birthday. Mai never forgave
her for that incident. Despite their mothers’ combined efforts to get them to mend their friendship,
Mai stopped inviting Asa to sleepovers soon afterwards.

That’s how it went down, right?

No matter. Neither partner helped her with cutting apart this frog.

Asa was a biology nut, but in a way to help and nurture, not destroy. She tolerated human guts, but
violating animal remains—even if the animal in question was a misshapen old frog corpse freshly
plucked from the formaldehyde jar—was awful.

Asa hated every bit of the dissection, from having to spread a stiff frog on its back and tie its little
legs to poles with twine, to doing the initial Y-incision, and then to having to tolerate the sound of
scissors slicing through skin, tendons, and bone. Asa tried to distract herself by rattling off stuff
from the preparatory reading the night before to fill the awkward silence. Before she realized it,
she was babbling with no audience.

“It’s cool we get to dissect an endemic species of frog today. The Japanese brown frog, or Rana
japonica, is such a cool-looking species—I love their little leg stripes. This one’s a male, judging
by the reproductive organs. Look—its nuptial pads are intact. I guess that means it was frozen
sometime between January and March, which is its mating season. They sing ten to twenty notes in
their love songs.”
Shit.

Asa had to stop.

Mai looked up from her nails and gave her an expression that Asa recognized from their childhood.
It was a look of “Just what in the hell are you going on about?”

Asa’s face flushed red as the class president snickered and whispered to her lab mates two benches
down. Asa heard one snippet of their hushed conversation.

“She’s a total bore! Poor Mai!”

Denji would’ve at least feigned some interest for a little while to her musings, Asa decided. She
trusted him to also tell her when she’d been droning on for too long.

Shut up, shut up, shut up.

Asa placed the dissection tongs down on the bench and looked at her frog. It was a beautiful
dissection, she had to admit. If Asa was in the right headspace, she would have been extremely
proud of her accomplishment. Instead, she saw a sad little frog that was plucked from his happy
little faux rice paddy at the breeding facility and stuck in a freezer to die. All that just so some
boring highschool student had the privilege to cut open his belly and scrutinize his shriveled
organs.

Asa (and by extension, Akoku and Mai) got perfect marks for their frog dissection after Mr.
Tanaka came over to take a look.

You’re welcome, Asa thought when she saw the score written on their worksheets in red pen.

The English quiz afterwards went just about as well as Asa expected it to be.

Horribly.

Work was uneventful. Madoka was Asa’s only coworker who seemed happy that she returned.

No one sat by the dumpsters to eat Asa’s bag of diced onions, cold eggs, and simmered daikon
radish.

After a dinner of ripped apart plain hamburger and sticky white rice, Asa stared at the ceiling for
two hours before sleep overtook her. Her brain refused to quiet without Denji in her arms.

When Asa finally did fall asleep, she dreamt of a cafe in the countryside that night. Meticulously
trimmed bushes decorated its exterior. The sunset glowed orange, pink, and purple behind the
building.

In her dream, Asa wore a cute light blue dress with a peasant neckline and chunky tan sandals. Her
hair was under control too—mostly loose, but with a few blue plastic butterfly clips holding back
her bangs. On her forearm, she carried a small white shoulder bag. Asa caught a glance of herself
in the reflective window. She looked happy, cute, and fashionable.

Normal.

Her eyes went to the cafe sign printed in white on the glass front door.

Crossroads.

The business’s name was written out in English.

What a cool name, Asa thought as she entered the restaurant.

The interior wasn’t anywhere recognizable, but its vibes were chill and welcoming. An eclectic
collection of furniture was available for customers to sit and dine on.

In the next moment, Asa sat at one of these tables. Dream logic liked to skip the boring bits, didn’t
it?

“Hello! What would you like to order?”

A cheery woman in her late teens or early twenties came over to take her order. Asa scanned the
laminated menu typed up in a pretty font that suddenly appeared in her hands before looking up at
the waitress.

“Our coffees are excellent if you’re undecided,” the waitress volunteered.

The waitress was an unusual beauty who wasn’t often seen in Tokyo. Her features reminded Asa of
the women with Paleosiberian ancestry that she saw in a documentary on the Russian Far East
once, except this girl had bright emerald green eyes. Asa liked the woman’s black choker—it
looked fashionable in a way that Asa wasn’t able to pull off in real life.

“No coffee...”

Coffee was gross. Tea over coffee any day.

“One crème brûlée instead, please.”

“Great choice. Coming right up.”

An older Japanese man with a terrible mustache brought Asa her dessert. Asa forgot how nice it
was to be served.

“Is that all, miss?”

“That’s all for me—if my boyfriend shows up later, I’m sure we will be ordering more food
though.”

Maybe Denji could visit her in her dreams. Asa’d appreciate the company.

Asa cracked the caramelized sugar top with the bowl of her spoon. It was just the right thickness—
not too thin and not too hard. The custard underneath was delightful too—this cafe certainly didn’t
skimp on vanilla beans.

Thinking about how this was a dream, Asa was very close to devouring this dessert with her hands
when her thoughts were interrupted by the fluttering of feathers.
“Hello, Asa.”

The voice was feminine, but low-pitched and distorted.

“Yes, may I—”

The well-rehearsed waitressing question caught in Asa’s throat as she looked up from the dessert.
The apartment complex’s creepy uratau perched on the back of the wire chair across from her on
the other side of the table. It hadn't been there five seconds before, had it? In an appropriately
dream-like fashion, it just materialized without rhyme or reason.

“I am sorry that it has taken such a long time to sit down and speak face-to-face. A certain…
someone kept getting in the way. No matter. We have an important manner to discuss this evening,
so let’s cut the niceties and get to the real reason I’m here.”

Great. Of course her real life pest would show up in her dreams. Even better, it could speak here.

That killed her imaginary appetite.

“What do you want?” Asa asked as she set down the silver spoon next to the dessert’s white
porcelain ramekin.

Lines of blood orange twisted and spun around in its yellow bulging eyes.

“You sheltered a deformed devil and its pet human in your home for an entire week. I observed
very little, but it seems to me that you might have grown attached to them.”

That feeling of protectiveness that Denji first triggered with flowers in his arms curled up Asa’s
spine.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“That devil is dangerous. It will attract many evil beings very soon.”

“I still don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you want to protect the pet human?”

Yes.

“I don’t give a shit about whatever ‘pet human’ or ‘devil’ you’re talking about. Never heard of
them.”

“I think you might. If you do, you should make a contract with me. I can protect him…in exchange
for what I want.”

This bird’s a devil? A bonafide devil?

Asa felt herself internally panic. Her suspicions—the ones that she talked herself down from taking
seriously—were correct. The creature that stalked her was a devil. A creature that didn’t abide by
the laws of normal biology wanted something from her.

Do…do devils ever communicate with humans through dreams?

Asa didn’t know. Either way, she needed to get out of this dream, to shake her mind awake before
she said anything stupid.
Think, Asa, think.

She couldn’t let her fear get to her.

Think…

Many stories from around the world featured clever humans tricking devils and devil-like beings.
Intimidating them, challenging them to games, making vague promises…she had many methods to
choose from.

Asa’s acting mindset clicked into place as she weighed her options. What did most of these
methods have in common?

An intent to humiliate. An unpredictable personality mixed with a stupid amount of confidence.

That often did the trick in these scenarios. Asa might as well give it a shot. This was nothing more
than a dream, afterall.

In her dream, Asa gave a slow exhale, uncrossed her legs, and leaned back in her chair. She rested
an arm over the back of the chair’s frame.

You’re the Man with No Name. You’re Chen Zhen. You’re Henry Higgins. You’re not scared.
You’re interesting, cool, skilled, and overconfident.

Asa made unflinching eye contact with the bird. Why was it so much easier to be confident in her
mind than in real life?

“You’re a devil?”

“…Yes? I am?”

“Doubt it. I’ve never seen a devil so small.”

“…Excuse me?”

“Aren’t devils dog-sized or larger?”

The uratau ruffled its feathers.

“What are you? The Long-Tailed Bushtit Devil?” Asa asked as she slouched further down the
chair.

“No, I’m the—”

“—Save it. I want no contract from a pathetic little bird-thing,” she sneered. “Only powerful devils
get my consideration.”

“Do not take my offer lightly. I am a valuable ally, Mitaka Asa.”

Asa threw her head back and gave a theatrical full-bellied guffaw. “You? An ally? You can’t be
serious, can you?”

“I am!”

“Okay, then tell me what your proposed contract is. This doesn’t mean I’m accepting it, by the by.”
“In exchange for my protection, I want to borrow your body.”

“You…you want this out-of-shape teenage girl body? All it has is six years of kendo training in it,
I’m afraid. It can’t even run five kilometers now without feeling like it wants to die.”

“Yes, I want your body,” the bird repeated exasperatedly.

“Why me in particular, though?”

“The dangerous devil you’ve been hiding is Chainsaw.”

“Chainsaw?!”

“Yes…Chainsaw. He trusts you, I think. Using your body, I’ll have him puke up the Nuclear
Weapons Devil.”

“‘Nuclear weapons’? What kinda bullshit are you on? There’re no such things.”

“Yes, there are!”

“Isn’t.”

“Is!”

Asa yawned dramatically. “Name sounds like something outta Macross Plus, or even worse…a
Star Trek episode.”

“Star Trek?”

“Star Trek,” Asa confirmed.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“No? Shame, it’s a good television series. Devils could stand to learn more about peace and
cooperation between intelligent species.”

Asa picked up her spoon and began shoveling crème brûlée into her mouth.

“So, what I’m getting at so far, based on our conversation,” Asa paused and swallowed loudly, “is
that you’re some sad little devil of no importance. You concocted an elaborate scheme in service to
a delusion that you’ve created for yourself.”

“Excuse me—”

“Any devil worth its salt can possess humans. You could’ve gotten what you wanted to get done
without my consent…why does it seem like you can’t?”

The urutau had nothing to say.

“So you are the Long-Tailed Bushtit Devil. No wonder you’re so weak and kinda stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!”

Asa rolled her eyes. “Sure, of course you aren’t.”

“I’m not.”
“Then go ahead! Possess me.”

The urutau stared deep into her eyes. Asa didn’t feel a thing.

“...You done yet?”

“You…you have to be dead for me to do anything without a contract right now.”

“You want me to walk in front of a bus?!”

“I mean…”

“Forget it. Get out of my dream.” Asa drew the knife from the cutlery on the table and pointed its
tip at the bird.

“You’ll regret this!”

“Well, you ran out of time.”

“Wait—”

“Goodbye, my dear devil!”

The urutau screamed.

Asa’s spoon slipped out of her hands and clattered to the floor. Asa tried to cover her ears, but the
ear-splitting noise couldn’t be muffled.

The overhead lights flickered in the cafe and everything went pitch black.

When Asa awoke from her awful dream, she wasn’t able to get back to sleep. If she allowed her
brain to wander, her mind immediately went to Denji. She couldn’t obsess over him. He was out of
her control. Like her loneliness, sorrow, and fear, Asa had to push him and Pochita into her mental
trashcan and focus on things she could have agency over.

As Asa brushed her teeth and gathered her hair into low twin tails, she felt like she was walking
around underwater. Asa wanted to do nothing but rest.

Asa forgot about the overdue VHS tapes until she stumbled into the partitioned living room and
saw them stacked on top of the television’s cathode ray tube monitor.

Shit, shit, shit.

She had to stop by the store after work to drop them off and pay the late fees. Asa stashed all five
tapes into her book bag and hurried out the door.

“Mitaka?”

“Yes?” Asa stood to attention as Madoka poked his head into the kitchen.

“A customer’s wanting to speak to you.”

Asa’s mind spun with confusion. There’d be no reason someone should want to see her. She’d
spent her entire shift in the kitchen that afternoon for a change. Madoka tasked her with scrubbing
down the kitchen floor, stoves, and sink before the food sanitation inspector’s arrival that evening.
Madoka left her alone just minutes earlier to appease a customer about a food complaint.

The pretty boy Devil Hunter’s warning about the three Devil Hunters echoed in her thoughts.

Woman with eyepatch?

Young man with topknot?

Run.

Red-haired woman with ringed eyes?

You’re fucked.

“What do they look like?”

“Some girl, maybe twenty or so?”

“Is she wearing an eyepatch? What color is her hair?”

“No, and dark brown?”

Asa wiped her wet hands on her apron.

“Why me?”

“No idea.”

“That’s weird.”

“Yup. Tried getting her off your back by saying only paying customers could talk to employees.
Girl went and bought the two cheapest things on the menu.”

Furuno noisily entered the kitchen.

“Mitaka, get out there. A customer wanting you is currently throwing a fit.”

Asa fetched her notepad from her locker. “I’ll go see what she wants.”

It was the rabbit girl with the two red barrettes. She sat at the booth nearest to the door and stared
out the window. Three thick tomato slices on a white plastic plate and a mug of black coffee laid
on the table in front of her.

“Hello, how may I help you?”

As Asa got closer, she saw how the girl’s shoulders shook. It wasn’t a happy tremble like Denji’s,
but one of pure fear.

“Are you Mitaka Asa?” The girl was soft spoken.

“Yes?”

The girl’s head turned to look at her. Hysterical tears ran down her cheeks.
 Is…is she crying over the VHS tapes?

“Oh, you’re the girl from the video store?" Asa asked.

Does…does the store send an employee out to collect overdue tapes now? If so…how did they
know my place of occupation?

This entire scenario felt very wrong.

“—If this is about the VHS tapes, I know they’re overdue. They’re in my locker right now and I
can grab them real quick for you.”

The girl shook her head hurriedly.

“Is…is there something wrong with your tomato slices?”

The girl shook her head again. She reached into her purse and pulled out a dinged up and labelless
VHS tape. With a trembling hand, she set it on the table.

“For you, courtesy of a friend. Watch it as soon as you can," the girl got out.

At a moment’s notice, the rabbit girl grabbed the tomatoes with her bare hands, shoved them into
her mouth, and dashed out the door without paying.

Madoka ran after the girl as Asa stood unmoving in front of the booth. She stared at the tape.

What on earth is happening?

Chapter End Notes

The adorable Shima Engaga (also known as the silver-throated dasher) is a subspecies
of the long-tailed bushtit that lives exclusively in Hokkaido. It’s a tiny little bird that
looks like a cotton ball. I love it.
 Chapter 15
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Tuesday! <3 I’m very excited for the upcoming manga chapter.

Today’s chapter has a lot of canon typical violence in it. A BIG “reader’s discretion is
advised” for violence, human and animal death, body horror, some self harm activity
(for a plot-related purpose), blackmail, and blood.

If you want to skip the bulk of this content, stop after “Nothing to be afraid of,” and
resume at “‘Need me to walk you home tonight?’” There are sprinkled references
throughout though! If you gotta sit this one out, that is 100% okay. :) Just let me know
and I’ll stick a chapter summary in the endnotes if you think it’s needed.

Best,
Lady

The snowstorm started on Asa’s moped drive back to her apartment that night. As she walked up
the apartment complex’s stairs, the weight of the VHS tape delivered by the rabbit girl hung heavy
in her bookbag.

“I’m home,” Asa thoughtlessly called out into the empty apartment as she locked the door behind
her.

Oh, right.

Denji and Pochita had been gone for nearly three days already. She forgot how cold the apartment
got when the space heater wasn’t running continuously.

Asa put her bookbag on its hook and toed off her shoes.

Maybe all of this was a prank or a dare on behalf of Asa’s classmates. The smothering faux
politeness and concern that occurred after Asa pissed her pants as a kid, the bimonthly chicken
livers on her trainers in her locker even after she bought a fancy combination lock, that one time
someone hid her riding gloves in the locker room, her first kiss on the playground…it wouldn’t be
the first time someone played one at her expense.

It was just a VHS tape. A plastic black box with some film inside it. Nothing to be afraid of.

Even if it’s something awful, I can handle it, Asa thought as she pulled off her knit cap and riding
gloves. Better get this over with.

Still dressed in her waitressing dress and coat, Asa brought the VHS to the television, stuck it in
the VCR, turned it on, and pressed play.

The video started abruptly with grainy handheld footage of the diner from an elevated angle, as if
the person filming was situated on the second or third floor of a nearby building. It showed Asa
busily sweeping the sidewalk in front of a restaurant. The videographer, a man judging by his
sniffles and coughs, recorded about thirty seconds of her going about her shift before the video cut
to a starkly lit warehouse. It was also poorly shot, but this time in close up and likely on a tripod.

The camera shifted from a shot of exposed ceiling beams to Denji from the chest up.

Asa’s heart dropped. She couldn’t fool herself into believing that it was someone else. No one else
had that dark blond hair and a collapsed right eye socket.

The video zoomed out to encapsulate his entire body.

Denji sat on the hard concrete floor, his back pressed against the white painted metal sheeting of
the wall. His ribbed undershirt was drenched with sweat down his front. Several small cuts along
his hairline bled down his forehead.

Denji’s left leg was bent in at an unnatural angle, kinked in at both the thigh and the shin. At
minimum, two closed fractures accounting for the lack of blood and exposed bone. One of the
femur and one of the tibia and fibula. His right forearm was similarly bent inwards in a way it
shouldn’t be. His good eye was blackened and his bottom lip was badly split.

“Ey, dog. Eyes on the camera.”

Denji looked towards the videographer, blinking away the blood trickling into his good eye. The
eyepatch was askew on his face.

“Took a trip to the diner today. Kinda pretty thing you have there, pup. No wonder you tried hiding
her from us.”

“Please don’t do anything to her,” Denji pleaded. His breaths were laboured. “She’s got nothin’ to
do with me.”

“Shut it. Dogs don’t deserve to speak,” the videographer said in a deadpan manner.

Another man who wasn’t the videographer—one with slicked back hair and a cigarette dangling
from his lips—shuffled into frame and delivered a powerful kick into Denji’s ribs. The man’s foot
met the exact same spot where Denji’s bruise was. Denji barely reacted.

“Please don’t hurt her,” Denji pleaded again, his eye growing wide.

“Relax, dog. We won’t.”

“Leave her alone, I’m begging ya. In exchange for that, p—please give me one more chance,”
Denji asked through the pain. “I’ll make it worth your time.”

“No more chances. Come on, look at the camera. We’re filming your little mistress a farewell
video.”

“W—what?” Denji tried to right himself with his good arm, but movement was apparently too
much.

“Have anything to say to her?”

“Don’t let her see this.” Denji begged, ignoring the man’s request.

“Denji, my boy. Listen here. You have our thanks for all the good work you’ve done for us. You
obeyed just like a good dog should and worked for cheap. It doesn’t get much better than that.
We’re just here to collect on what you owe us. Don’t take it too personally.”

A huge shadow overtook the frame and darkened the stark lighting. A vaguely humanoid, but
mostly amorphous shape was cast onto the wall. It towered over Denji. His face filled with terror.

The cigarette smoking gangster came back into frame to grip Denji’s hair and force his head back.

“Have at ‘m, Zombie Devil.”

A long appendage went across Denji’s throat so quickly that he couldn’t even cry out. Whatever it
was sliced an ugly, uneven gash through the many muscles and tendons of Denji’s neck. Asa
watched brilliant crimson blood immediately begin to gush out and soak through his ribbed shirt.

Her father told her grisly stories about neck trauma in the emergency room. Asa was pretty sure she
knew what she was looking at.

Both of Denji’s carotid arteries were cut.

Denji tried to speak, but only horrid gurgling noises came out. He looked beyond the camera at the
videographer with nothing but fear and helplessness in his good eye as he tried in vain to hold the
wound closed. The blood poured down his left forearm.

With an exhale, the camera operator walked into the shot of the camera. The videographer was a
grandfatherly-looking man with an unkempt bushy grey beard, hairy caterpillar-like eyebrows, a
tan trench coat, and a matching brimmed hat. The old man came to get a closer look at the injury.

“I hate the stench of fucking dogs,” the old man mumbled, just loud enough for the camera to
record.

The gangster restraining Denji let go of his hair. Denji’s bloodied hand fell to his side.

Denji slumped forward. His good eye went unfocused, his face developed a waxy pallor, and his
body went still as he became unresponsive.

That was it. From throat injury to unconsciousness, it all happened in less than twenty seconds.

“I think that’s enough,” the bearded old gangster said as he walked toward the mounted video
camera and covered the camera lens with his hand.

“Boys, time to go do as I said.”

The entire video, which lasted less than two minutes, ended abruptly. Asa sat there in the darkness
in near silence of her apartment aside from some quiet hissing from the television’s speakers. She
stared at the screen, too stunned to emote or think as reality settled in.

Asa didn’t move until the VHS tape ran out completely. The television monitor flooded the
apartment with fuzzy grey light and the ionic extended beeping noise. Asa rushed to push the
ejection button on the VCR before it could ask her to rewind the tape. She couldn’t accidentally
watch any of that again, even if it was in reverse.

It could’ve been thirty seconds or it could’ve been half an hour. Either way, it felt like the doorbell
rang almost as soon as Asa ejected the tape.

Don’t answer it, Asa’s rational mind screamed.

Too late, she responded. She just saw the boy she liked very, very much get gravely wounded on
film. If Asa was about to be disemboweled, so be it.

Asa moved towards the apartment door.

Maybe it was just an unexpected visitor.

Maybe her aunt was in town. Maybe she decided to drop by her niece’s with a flourless chocolate
cake for an early birthday surprise…

Maybe she brought Asa’s little cousins to say hello too. It’d been…a year since Asa saw the two
boys? She wondered if they finally lost their front teeth…

Maybe it was Madoka or Furuno. Both of them lived one bus stop down in different directions.
Maybe Asa left something at work and one of them was kind enough to return it off before it got
too late.

She didn’t even bother to look through the peephole before she turned the handle.

Maybe the class president or Mr. Tanaka finally remembered to drop off the worksheets from
Monday?

Maybe the rabbit girl came to apologize?

Hell, Asa would even take wannabe rockabilly old man Devil Hunter or creepy tall pretty boy
Devil Hunter stopping by to check up on her.

She might even welcome an interrogation from the three Devil Hunters that pretty boy said to
avoid.

Asa tried to think of every possible scenario besides that one. The one connected to the VHS tape.
The one she wanted the least of all. She turned the handle and opened the door.

It couldn’t have been much more than a windy negative six degrees Celsius outside. Asa’s teeth
chattered as the air swirled about her thin tights.

It was the old videographer. Same bearded face, same coat, same hat. He looked somewhat
different than he did in the video. More disheveled, perhaps.

“Hello, Miss Mitaka Asa.”

He knew her name.

Great.

“I trust you’ve been well?” The man spoke slowly and slurred his words. He smelled of tobacco,
rum, and stale sweat. Four filled black garbage bags accompanied him. Whoever helped to drop
them off left them lazily piled up by her door.

“Here’s your delivery, courtesy of my juniors. Felt like it was my duty to make sure these bags got
back safely to you.”

Every single trash bag looked heavy and bulged out awkwardly.

“Why…why did you send me the video?” Asa asked. It’s not like they could do anything much
worse than they already did now.
The gangster patted his coat until he located a crumpled cigarette pack.

“We take pride in our work. Think of it as an assurance of our quality, though I must request the
VHS back now.”

“Ye—yes.”

“Keep the door open as you go get it.”

Cold wind blew into the apartment as Asa retrieved the tape and returned to the doorway. The
gangster took it from her and stashed it away in his coat.

“…You didn’t make any copies, did you?”

“…No?”

“Good. I hope you’re telling the truth. Otherwise, we’ll have to come drop by for another visit. A
less pleasant one, unfortunately.”

“Yes,” Asa answered quickly.

“I must ask…you’re not a Devil Hunter yourself, are ya, little miss?”

Asa’s mind spun.

Does he want a positive or a negative answer?

Asa mentally flipped a coin.

“Devil Hunters are pathetic. I’d never stoop so low as to become one,” Asa said hesitatingly.

The man gave a gross smile full of rotted yellow teeth.

“Good answer, my dear.”

Asa nodded. Her grip on the door handle was unconsciously tight. Her hand muscles cramped with
the effort. She wanted to slam the door in the man’s face.

“Listen here to me, very carefully now.” The man stepped closer to her. His stale breaths were hot
against her cheek. “If you’re wise, you’ll stop taking stringy Devil Hunters off the streets from
here on out, understood?”

“...Yes.” Asa was crying now. It was humiliating, showing emotions like this to a stranger.

“It’d also not be wise to contact the police about any of this matter, hm? We have ears there. We’ll
know before they even show up at your door.”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Don’t worry, good girl,” the gangster said as he expertly extracted an unfiltered cigarette from the
pack and put it between his lips, “Not a hair on your pretty head will be touched. We only do what
we gotta do, y’know? Besides…you’re much too young for me.” That must’ve been quite the
amusing comment, for the gangster laughed at his own joke as he lit the cigarette.

“I understand.”
“Though if you don’t behave, we have plenty of debts that we can have you pay off.” The man’s
eyes trailed down her front and lingered on her exposed legs. “We’re not just talking about money
here, got it? Quite a few associates of mine would like to see a girl like you on your knees.”

“Yes,” Asa hiccupped, “I won’t do anything.”

“Hmmm…we hope that’ll stay the case.” The gangster inhaled deeply and exhaled dramatically
before stepping back to give Asa space. A dirty cloud of tobacco smoke filled the crisp night air.
Asa tried not to cough as he took another drag and blew smoke in her direction. “It’s been a
pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Mitaka. I pray that our paths shall never have to cross
again.”

Asa didn’t wait for the old man to sluggishly vanish from her view before she began to drag the
bags inside. She couldn’t let the neighbors see all of this.

Asa smelled the contents before she saw them. It was an unmistakable stench that one doesn’t
forget.

Once her apartment door was closed and locked behind her, Asa gathered the courage to try to
untie the sturdy red plastic knot that held the first black garbage bag closed. When she realized it
was too tight to unpick even with fingernails, Asa ripped open a hole right beside the knot. The
scent went from gross to pungent. Raw meat, human excrement, old potatoes, and rotting
strawberry jam. A fleshy smell with slightly sweet undertones that sticks in your nostrils and to the
roof of your mouth. The smell that you inhale when you return two days after the Tycoon Devil
destroyed your neighborhood. When all you want to do is recover your parents’ remains after the
Public Safety Devil Hunters refused to help with search and rescue.

As Asa tore the hole wider, the first thing she saw was a foot. A dismembered foot, still dressed in
a blood-stained cream and white trainer, was crudely sawed off mid-calf.

Asa lost her lunch right there on the floor. She tried catching it with her hands, but the expelled
stomach contents strained through her fingers. As soon as she was done, her stomach violently
contracted for a second time. Asa managed to hurry over to the kitchen sink before she vomited
again. She kept vomiting until nothing but clear stomach acid came out.

When her heaving and tears subsided, Asa rested her head on the ceramic edge of the sink.

Calm down. It’ll do you no good to panic like this.

A familiar emotion-numbing shock overtook over her system.

Take a scientific approach.

It was back. The same all-encompassing shock that allowed her to run to safety last June. The same
shock that allowed her to scrape the probable pulverized remains of her mother off of a wrecked
kei car's hood and windshield and recover her father’s severed leg—the only surviving portion of
his body—from a pile of crushed cinder block and brick rubble.

A dismembered human is not much different than a dissected frog, are they?

Asa pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes and allowed herself to breathe for a moment.

See what you’re working with first. Worry about the logistics later.

Asa cleaned up after herself first, wiping up the mess she created before changing into clothes she
wasn’t afraid to ruin. She then dug through her closet and found the old blue canvas tarp that her
mother insisted on using underneath the picnic blanket when they ate lunch in the park. After she
found it in the wreckage, Asa kept it for sentimental reasons, but here she was once again putting it
to practical use. Same thing with a box of her father’s old disposable face masks. In aspiring nurse
trainee fashion, Asa found the small brown glass bottle of lavender oil at the very back of the
kitchenette toiletries cabinet and applied a few drops on a mask under the nose. If she didn’t, she
knew she would vomit again.

Wearing the scented mask, Asa spread the tarp out in the partitioned living room on top of the
tatami mats and dragged the four garbage bags on top of it.

Asa opened the first bag—the one she’d already ripped a hole into—and began to piece Denji’s
body back together part by part.

Whoever was in charge of body disposal chopped Denji up into bits and bled him completely out in
order to fit his body into two trash bags. They’d completed the slice through his neck, thoroughly
beheading him. His torso was sawn in two at the hips. Both legs hacked off at the upper calves.
Whoever dismembered him was especially violent to his arms. They’d cut them both into four
uneven pieces each.

Asa laid him out in anatomical position. Most of his skin was purplish from liver mortis. Denji was
ice cold to the touch and limp—secondary flaccidity was the decomposition stage if Asa
remembered it correctly. Rigor mortis had come and gone already, which meant he’d been dead for
at least a day and a half-ish. That probably meant he’d been dead prior to when the urutau devil
offered Asa a contract to protect him.

It told you a lie. What did you expect from a devil?

Asa still felt a deep sense of betrayal and anger. If she agreed to the contract in her dream and it
manifested in reality, her sacrifice would’ve been for nothing. The bird would’ve gotten a human
body for free.

Pochita’s remains were in the third bag. They’d cut him in two, cleanly through his stomach. He
still looked fairly fresh compared to Denji. His limbs were stiff, which meant they’d kept him alive
for longer than they had kept Denji. His pink intestines trailed out of his body cavity. Asa laid his
body beside Denji’s shoulder.

As Asa stopped to observe her progress, she realized that she couldn’t leave them looking so
unkempt and battered like this. The evidence was now completely tampered with and her
fingerprints were all over their bodies, so it wasn’t like a crime scene technician could find
anything to begin with at this point even if she wanted them to. Asa filled a blue ceramic bowl with
water and gathered some old rags. Asa set about washing Denji’s remains, dabbing and rubbing
away the dried brown blood that had settled on his exposed skin. When she pulled aside his ribbed
shirt, her worst fears were confirmed.

They’d harvested most of his organs. Precise unhealed surgical cuts were scattered across his front.
His heart was left in place.

The shock was the only thing keeping her sane and focused. Her brain felt nice and fuzzy.

Asa spent an exorbitant amount of time washing his face. She tried to scrape off the blood and
grime around his mouth and nose.

Ah, she shouldn’t have opened his good eye in this effort. They’d harvested his remaining cornea.
Tache noir, a transversely arranged reddish-black discoloration of the sclera, was present too. Try
as she might, she couldn’t get his eye to shut again and remain closed.

Asa went to the fourth trash bag. It mostly contained insidiously bloodied tools with bits of dried
flesh and guts stuck on them, but Asa found Denji’s green coat at the very bottom. She searched
the pockets. They were empty except for one thing: a handkerchief with a frog sitting on a lily pad
decorating the corner. Asa folded it in half (concealing the embroidery) covered Denji’s unseeing
eyes with it.

Asa retrieved her futon comforter and covered the boy and the devil with it, pulling it up to their
chins.

With her initial task completed, Asa carefully lowered herself to the floor before her legs could
give out under her. She sat beside Denji’s head with her fingers interlocked and resting on her
thighs.

Even if no one was looking for Pochita and Denji while they were alive, she couldn’t keep their
remains in the apartment. Police would start coming around once the smell got even worse and
insects began to show up in droves. Neighbors were bound to report such events.

It wasn’t like she could toss their bodies into a dumpster by herself either. She’d absolutely get
taught if she tried.

The Public Safety Devil Hunters might be able to take their remains off her hands if she let them
know, but Asa didn’t know what that might entail for herself. Would they lock her up? Blackmail
her? Wipe her memories? Force her to become a Devil Hunter? Torture her? Kill her? Asa didn’t
like any of those possibilities. She was stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Asa looked at the two corpses laid out underneath her futon comforter. If she didn’t know any
better, they looked fake. Mannequins or life-sized dolls.

Maybe all of this is a prank like I thought it would be. Maybe they’re made out of rubber and latex.
Maybe I’m still dreaming.

Ads studied Pochita. Despite looking freshly dead, his fur wasn’t bright red like it had been in life.
Now it was almost maroon.

The little devil gave her a wretched idea.

Maybe…it’s not too late. Maybe there’s still another option.

Asa retrieved her bread knife and went to stand over Pochita.

“Pochita,” she began, “a devil shaped like a bird visited me in my dreams last night. They told me
you’re a dangerous devil named Chainsaw.”

Pochita’s glazed over eyes continued to stare out into nothing.

“It said that you’ll attract many ‘evil beings’ soon. Do you know what that’s about?”

No answer, of course.

“…A devil calling other things ‘evil.’ Hah, that’s rich.”

Asa reached out and patted the devil’s forehead. Like Denji, Pochita was unnaturally cold. “Their
comments got me thinking. Pochita, or Chainsaw, or whatever your real name is, you’re probably
much stronger than I’ve given you credit for. I…I know devils can survive injuries that kill
humans. If you are truly as dangerous as they said you are, I bet that you are still living somehow.
A couple human gangsters aren’t enough to take you down.”

Asa brought the jagged bread knife blade down across her palm, slicing a ugly gash through her
skin. The roar of blood in her ears drowned out the pain.

I’m definitely not asleep, Asa confirmed as the blood pooled in her palm.

She pried open Pochita’s mouth with two fingers from her good hand and squeezed her injured
hand into a fist. The dark red blood dripped into the devil’s mouth, but he didn’t swallow.

“If you’re indeed alive and can hear me, I want another contract. A permanent one this time, this
one to last until I’m dead. The three conditions that I require from you are these: save Denji, bring
him back to me alive and well, and protect me.” Asa’s voice finally broke and she felt the angry
tears begin to trail down her cheeks. The last request was so selfish, but she was scared of what the
future might hold. “I’ll do anything you ask of me.”

Asa couldn’t resist. Her eyes flit over to Denji’s desecrated body. His jaw had fallen open. Asa
wished she could wire his jaw shut.

“Please, Pochita. You’re the only devil I would ever ask for such a tremendous favor from. Please
consider it.”

Pochita remained still.

Some blood from her hand wasn’t enough for a request like this, was it? Water bowl in hand, Asa
went into the bathroom, flipped on the lights, and emptied the dirtied water into the sink. She tied
her hair into her usual low twin tails before she found her trimming scissors.

Two snips, and Asa’s severed thin twin tails landed in the bowl. She raggedly cut the remaining
hair up to her chin, ensuring that every strand got into the bowl as she did so. Asa considered other
bodily things she could cast off of her person—spit, fingernail clippings, other disgusting things,
but only one thing seemed to be appropriate for devils.

Blood.

Using her bread knife, Asa made shallow cuts across her forearms, letting each drip into the bowl
until they ceased bleeding whilst carefully avoiding her wrists and other vital points. Once she
began to feel woozy, Asa stopped and disinfected the cuts. Asa wrapped both forearms with clean
bandages, gauze, and surgical tape she kept in the bathroom’s medical kit.

She carried the bowl full of hair and blood back to the living room and placed it on the floor next to
the devil’s head.

“If this doesn’t prove how serious I am…I don’t know what else to do.”

Asa fetched her pillow from the naked futon and curled up on the floor next to Denji’s unmoving
body. She didn’t even bother to swallow painkillers to dumb the horrible pain that her meager
sacrifice brought to her body and brain.

“Goodnight,” she uttered into the apartment’s suffocating stillness.

No response.
 ❦

Asa woke up to two unmoved corpses. She locked them up in the apartment and left for school.

Asa got her English quiz back.

A 74. The worst grade she’d gotten on anything since middle school, and she didn’t even care.

She managed to eat a leftover apple as she sat alone at lunch. It tasted like sawdust.

The class president and her cronies whispered about her hair as Asa got ready to leave school for
the day at the lockers.

“It wasn’t too awful-looking down after she washed it, but now she just chopped it all off? What
was she thinking?” Asa overheard Mai say.

Asa swore to never again let her hair grow long.

Asa hoped that the old wannabe rockabilly and the pretty boy Devil Hunters would drop by the
diner and order coffee. She needed some instruction on how to proceed with this mess.

They didn’t show up.

Madoka caught Asa standing in the snow behind the diner during his smoke break.

“Oh, Mitaka. What’re you doing out here?”

“Getting some fresh air.” Mitaka hugged her arms against the cold and falling snow. Her knit cap,
leather gloves, and sweater weren’t enough against the wet cold, but she needed a change of
scenery to calm her roiling mind.

“Didn’t your shift end an hour ago?”

“Mr. Furuno’s letting me make up hours from this past Monday. I’ll be here until 10:30.”

Asa begged for more hours so that she didn’t have to go back to that silent apartment just yet.

“Nice of him.”

Madoka’s eyes went to her bandaged hands.

“What’s going on with your arms, if I may ask?” Madoka wondered aloud as he readjusted his
spectacles.

“Scraped both of them on a run,” Asa lied. “Tripped and ate asphalt.”

The self-inflicted injuries hurt like a bitch, even with painkillers now taking the edge off.

“Ah, that sucks.”

“They hurt, but whatever.”

“Your hair?”

“Tried to follow a magazine tutorial,” Asa lied again. “Failed miserably.”

“Ooh, that’s not a fun outcome either,” Madoka responded with a chuckle. He tapped the base of
his cigarette pack and withdrew a smoke.

“Cigarette?” Madoka asked as he held out the pack for Asa to take one if she so wished it.

“Rots your lungs.”

Madoka laughed as he put the cigarette between his lips and pulled out a matchbox.

“Good call,” he said as he lit a match and pressed the burning end to the cigarette tip. He
extinguished the match with a jerky hand motion, inhaled, and exhaled through his nose. “Don’t
start.”

Asa didn’t respond. She stepped further away from Madoka and tried not to inhale his secondhand
smoke.

“Your vibe seems off today,” Madoka continued after a while. He was a fast smoker, always taking
short puffs from his cigarette and exhaling quickly.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You seemed unusually happy last week until you got sick. You seem sad now.”

“Oh, that?”

“Yes. Did something happen?”

“The storms have gotten to me,” Asa lied.

“Winter blues?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m sorry. Winter blues are never fun to deal with. Trust me.”

“They’ll pass, just like everything else.”

“That’s true.” Madoka responded as he took a deeper drag off the rapidly shortening cigarette.
“Need me to walk you home tonight?”

“Nah.”

Asa trusted Madoka as much as she could trust a middle aged male coworker, but she had to be
careful.

“You sure?”

“Yep.”

Madoka took one last puff on the cigarette butt and reduced it all the way down to the filter. He
tossed it on the ground and stepped on it.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind. Oh—by the way, Furuno wanted you to have this.”
Madoka reached inside his leather jacket and pulled out a folded manila envelope.

“For you,” he said, holding it out to Asa.

“…What is it?”

“I don’t know. Furuno just told me to warn you not to lose it.”

Asa took the envelope. It was thick, as if it filled with a stack of paper. She went to open it when
Madoka interrupted as he stooped over to pick up the cigarette butt to throw in the trash can.

“Nope, don’t open it.”

“Madoka, I can’t take his or your money.”

Asa held it back for Madoka to take it.

“Nah-hah, no take backs. Think of it as an early birthday present. You’ll know when you’ll need it.
Trust me.”

The snowstorm turned into an all-out blizzard as the night went on.

Asa lingered at work way past the end of her shift, helping Madoka wipe down tables, wash dishes,
and sweep the floor before they turned the empty diner over to the early morning crew.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to see you home?” Madoka asked as he wound the scarf tightly
around his neck.

Asa shook her head. “I rode my moped to work today. Gotta get it back before someone steals it.”

“…Fine. Do me a favor though? Will you at least do me the honor of taking my flashlight home
with you?” Madoka sighed as he readied his umbrella.

“I can’t—”

Madoka held the heavy black metal Maglite flashlight out to her insistently.

“Bring it back to me when you’re able.”

A look into his scarred face told Asa all she needed to know. He wasn’t going to let her win this
argument. She wasn’t leaving this restaurant without this flashlight. Asa needed a weapon in
addition to something to light her way.

“…Okay.”

With flurries of snow battering her cheeks, Asa drove home nearly blind on her sad-looking
moped. When she arrived at the complex, Asa locked her moped in its usual parking space and
hurried up the stairs to her apartment. Madoka’s powerful emergency flashlight guided the way.
When she got to the second floor, Asa noticed that the overhead lights in the open hallway weren’t
lit tonight.

Weird.
That had never happened before. Despite the wind whirling around her, the hallway felt frozen in
time. Something was amiss.

Asa’s heart beat faster as she broke into a trot down the hallway. Her fears were confirmed when
she stood in front of her apartment. Her door swung open with the wind. The locks were busted.
No doubt about it. Someone broke in.

It was too late to try to pound on her neighbors’ doors. No one would answer at this time of night.

Asa wasn’t dumb enough to go inside, but she did shine the powerful flashlight from the entrance
into the now pitch black and freezing apartment.

The comforter lay piled near the door. The ceramic bowl she laid beside Pochita was emptied and
overturned. Denji and Pochita’s bodies were nowhere to be seen.

No.

Asa ran down the hallway back to the stairs.

No, no, no.

Asa hurried down the stairs and out to the telephone booth. She tripped nearly three times on the
way there. As soon as she was inside with the door shut behind her, Asa grabbed for the telephone
and pinned the receiver between her chin and her shoulder. With trembling fingers, Asa pulled out
her wallet and fished out the right amount of change, one coin at a time.

She dialed the phone and prayed that her aunt would pick up.

“…Hello?” Her aunt’s voice was sleep-riddled on the other end of the line. A conflicting wave of
relief and fear washed over Asa.

“Auntie?”

“Asa love? Why’re you calling so late?”

“I…I just got back from work. My…my apartment’s been broken into.”

“Oh honey…have you called the police yet?”

“No…not yet.”

Asa’s mind went to all the bloodied trash bags on the tarp she’d yet to clean up. She couldn’t call
the police, even if she wanted to go against the gang’s wishes. What satisfactiory answer did she
have for a bloody tarp and trashbags?

“I will as soon as I hang up though,” Asa lied.

“Good plan. You’re so smart.”

Asa felt tears begin to prick at her eyes.

“I want to come stay with you.”

“You’re always welcome to. Want me to come pick you up?” her aunt asked.

Asa panicked. It was a good six hours by car from Kyoto to Tokyo. Even by bullet train, her aunt
was still three hours away.

“No—I’ll figure it out.”

“…Alright. Just call me if that changes, okay? We’ll have the guest bedroom ready for you.”

“Thanks. Bye.”

Asa slammed down the receiver before her aunt could respond.

What am I thinking? I can’t endanger my family.

The ugly thought skittered across her mind. She couldn’t get her coworkers involved either. Asa
couldn’t drag anyone else down with her. She had to go about this alone.

I need to leave.

She couldn’t flee as she was now. She needed the rest of her identification paperwork and money.
Her most recent paycheck was still in the apartment. A change of underthings and her thickest coat
would be necessary too.

Asa had to go back.

Asa dashed back up the stairs, crossing steps two at a time. With Madoka’s flashlight in hand, Asa
hurried back down her apartment hallway.

She heard it first.

The loud characteristic whirring of metal teeth.

Asa’s right foot caught on her left ankle. She hurtled to the ground, but caught herself just in time
to right herself without injury or much delay.

That’s when she saw it.

A figure, faintly outlined by muted moonlight against the billowing storm, precariously balanced
itself on the apartment railing opposite her apartment doorway.

Asa shined the flashlight’s beam into the thing’s face.

It had a lean masculine humanoid form, but the thing had what could only be described as a
chainsaw for a head. A red engine for a skull, a black front handle for a crown, and a matching
back handle protruding out of the back of its head. Black metallic cords and mechanical
contraptions covered its throat. The chained nose of the contraption jutted out from where its
forehead should be.

Underneath the chained nose, a lipless maw of bloodied spiked teeth chewed away at the flesh and
gristle of a headless squat little feathered body that it held in both its hands. Asa recognized those
brown and white feathers. It had to be the neighborhood’s urutau.

Asa hated that bird, especially if it was indeed a devil in real life, but that didn’t necessarily justify
eating it after it was dead.

Asa vomited up the apple that she tried so hard to eat for lunch.

The thing noticed her. It jumped off of the railing and stood on bare human-like feet, dropping the
bird’s broken body on the floor as it did so. It was about half a head taller than she was. With a
distended pink tongue, it took a moment to lick away blood that stained its bare arm. Not that the
self-grooming did much. Copious amounts of dried blood covered both the jeans it wore and its
shirtless human-like torso.

The disgusting taste of the stomach acid-covered apple filled her mouth. Asa swallowed repeatedly
before trying to speak.

“Get back.”

Asa held her heavy metal torch like a baton as she looked at the thing in even more detail. It was
definitely not human, but it didn’t look like any devil Asa had ever seen or read about.

It inched nearer. The plastic skull had slitted plastic sheeting where eyes should’ve been if it was
an animal or man. Through these slits, a bright yellowy amber glow shined through on both sides.

No eyes.

Asa hated that.

“I’m warning you!”

It wanted to kill her, didn’t it?

I wish I could tell Furuno and Madoka that I’m not coming into work tomorrow.

“Last chance!”

Asa spent many nights thinking about her demise. Now? She wanted to die in her sleep as an
elderly woman. If she couldn’t have the luxury to do that, Asa preferred the notion of being hit by
a car, electrocution, or an accidental drowning over being torn apart by a devil.

I wish I could tell my aunt that she’s going to have to look for my dead body soon.

When it got near enough, Asa struck. She bashed the flashlight against the side of the thing’s skull
with her entire strength. The thing was unfazed. It didn’t even react. Asa repeated her attack on the
opposite side of its head.

“Go away!” Asa screamed. Tears of panic rolled down her cheeks. She repeatedly bashed the butt
of the flashlight against the thing’s skull. It took it all like it was nothing.

The thing finally grabbed the flashlight and ripped it from her hand in a single fluid movement that
Asa couldn’t visually track.

It was strong. Inhumanly so.

Asa shielded her face with her hands as the thing carefully set her torch on the ground. She waited
for the blow—the pain of metal teeth cutting through her skin—but it didn’t come.

The thing got closer—so close that she could smell the rot and blood on its breath—and dropped to
its knees in front of her.

As it took her hand, Asa was too scared to react. It carefully pulled off her riding glove before
gently running its fingers over the bandage wrapped from her palm to her elbow. Its bloodied hand
left red smears on the white gauze.
Those unexpected caresses sent her into deeper shock.

Asa allowed it to press her open palm against the top of its head, right between the toothed nose
and the front handle. For the briefest few seconds, the plastic shell held firm before virtually
melting underneath her fingers. The resulting substance didn’t burn her though. It felt like warm
soft taffy as it sloughed off the thing’s head and fell onto the cold snow-wetted concrete floor.

Plastic gave way to wavy blond hair.

 Chapter 16
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! It’s the last episode of the first season (cry), but it
looks like we may be back on weekly chapter releases for a while now! Yay! Though
it was short, I loved this week’s chapter. Denji crawled into the empty aquarium
display with Asa after she apologized…that page made my Asaden shipper heart very
happy.

This is a shorter interim chapter that I felt was necessary before the story progresses.
Hope you enjoy it!

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Denji awoke with a start.

The full moon shone through the large window next to Asa’s futon. He had wondered what her
view to the outside world was like through that shuttered window—apparently it was a solid view
of the apartment dumpsters and a single bare maple tree next to them.

Wait.

He was supposed to be dead, right?

His surroundings consisted of floral smells accented with a hint of lemony floor cleaner, vanilla-
scented conditioner, and freshly laundered sheets.

Is this heaven?

Denji hoped it was until he realized that he was neither holding nor being held by Asa.

This can’t be heaven.

He couldn’t hear her movements anywhere nearby like he usually was able to. The clink of dishes,
the running water from the faucet or shower, the flipping of pages and the mechanical pencil
manically scribbling notes while she studied…nothing.

“Asa?” Denji called out.

The silence was deafening.

Is this hell?

“Asa?” Denji repeated.

Still no response.
…Nope, I can’t do this.

Denji had to go back. He couldn’t be without her.

He couldn’t turn his head away from the window, he realized. Before he could begin to panic, he
heard the familiar pitter-patter of little paws.

“Woof!”

“…Pochita?”

The devil—bright red and with a wagging happy tail—walked into Denji’s sight. He was backlit by
the bright moon. He looked into Denji’s face and gave another bark.

“Pochita! Did…did you take my body like I told you to?”

Denji tried to reach out and touch Pochita, but he couldn’t move his hands. He experimentally tried
to wriggle his big toe. Apparently he couldn’t move his legs either.

“I can’t.”

Denji’s smile faltered. Horrible news coming out of such a cute voice—

Wait, when could Pochita talk?

In any other circumstance, Denji would’ve been surprised by this realization, but the heavy news
overrode any other emotion.

“I can’t yet, I mean,” Pochita corrected his statement as his tail drooped, “because I want your ‘yes’
before I do.”

“Huh?”

Denji didn’t remember much of his last few days after he left Asa’s apartment. Only little
snapshots, really. A cold shack. His discolored mattress, now covered with blood stains. His
unwashed stench returning. A half-eaten hamburger with wilted lettuce and a stale bun pulled from
a filthy dumpster. No energy to hunt. The old man mentioning something about a devil contract for
the gang. The gaunt human-like face of a devil peering out of a dismembered torso. Blood, pain,
and then nothing.

“The gang disfigured your body after you died. They cut out too much of you for me to be able to
use your body as I am now.”

“We’re both dead, then? Permanently?”

Denji felt the tears come without the accompanying chest ache. He couldn’t stay alive long enough
to come back to Asa. He failed, and now he might be mockingly stuck in a Asa-less replication of
her apartment.

“Not yet. Asa offered us a contract.”

“‘Us?’”

“Yes...well, sort of. It would be a contract between Asa and me, but you are heavily involved. For
Asa’s sake, I feel like I have a responsibility to let you have a say in what’ll happen if you agree to
take part. If you don’t, we will not accept her offer. I promise you that.”
Why was Pochita wasting precious energy and time like this?

Denji wanted to say, “I don’t care. I’ll do anything, just bring me back to her.” Hell, Pochita could
bring him back as a fleshy blob and Denji would probably be thrilled. If he came back like that,
maybe Asa would keep him as a pet or something. It would be better than nothing.

“What do you have to do?” Denji asked.

“On my part, I will give you almost all of my organs—including a new heart—and restore you,
with your brain intact, to the land of the living. In return, you must return to Asa’s side and protect
her for as long as she’ll have you.”

Easy. Denji could do that in a heartbeat.

“What does Asa have to do for you?”

“Love and support you.”

Denji clenched his teeth and felt his eyes tighten. He didn’t know too much about love and
relationships and shit, but it seemed wrong to force someone to love him—crap and all—as part of
a devil contract. That’s a lot to ask of someone. He pictured Asa’s pained crying face…he didn’t
want to put such a heavy burden on her. He didn’t want to be the cause of her tears.

Before he could protest, Pochita added to his statement.

“Denji…I’m not saying these things without reason. I’ve always loved listening to you talk about
your dreams. Asa has helped you achieve many of your dreams in your short time of knowing her. I
have good reason to think that she won’t turn you away.”

“...You don’t think she will?”

Pochita shook his head and came closer to Denji. “I don’t. Not one bit.”

Pochita rested his cheek against Denji’s own. Pochita’s fur was warm and comforting.

“I’m not saying that any of what you’re about to go through will be easy. Coming back from the
dead never is. All I ask from you is to just give both her and yourself time to adjust, both to the
circumstances and to your new body. Okay?” Pochita asked.

“...New body?”

“New body,” Pochita confirmed. “You’ll figure it out in due time.”

“...Can you tell me anything else?”

“I cannot. Our time is running short.”

Pochita’s voice deepened as he spoke that last sentence, going from squeaky and high-pitched to
deep and growly. The embodiment of a chainsaw’s roar.

“Do you accept the terms of my proposal?” Pochita asked.

M’sorry, Asa.

“Yes,” Denji responded more bravely than what he felt.

“Consider this contract fulfilled. Once you wake, get ready to leave Tokyo. Sever ties.”

“Pochita—”

“Return. Show me more of your dreams, Denji.”

Denji woke up to considerable bodily pain, but the exhaustion, the head splitting headache, and the
copper taste in his mouth were gone.

I can feel my body below my neck, he thought with a mix of masochistic glee and immense relief.
Slowly but surely, Denji experimentally wriggled his toes and fingers and bent and unbent his
elbows and knees with great success before sitting up.

Ugh.

It felt like his body had been sliced apart and sewn back together again.

It was dark, save for some dull light shining through window blinds. The air around him smelled
like rot, like when he found the dumped hunted wild boar guts thrown into a trash can that he’d
opened to root through for expired food. The comforter covering him felt familiar, though. So did
the tatami mat under his exposed calves. Yep, he couldn’t be anywhere else.

He was back at Asa’s apartment.

Home.

Denji took a deep breath, gathered his knees under him, and carefully stood. His feet felt
surprisingly sturdy underneath him as he walked his memorized route to Asa’s bathroom. After
fumbling around a bit, he clicked on the overhead light.

Denji froze in shock.

What…?

Denji looked away from the mirror. He walked the perimeter of the bathroom three times before
returning to reinvestigate the reflection. The boy who stared back at him in the mirror…it wasn’t
him, was it? This guy was dressed in Denji’s old and bloodied rags, sure, but his body looked
much different.

Is…is that really me?

For one, his reflection had two working eyeballs. Denji grabbed a piece of toilet paper, balled it up,
pressed his back against the closed door, and aimed at the toilet. He tossed the paper wad into the
toilet bowl with no effort. His good eyesight was back.

The cuffs of the pants he wore were hitched all the way to his mid-shin—much higher than they
used to be. Did he get taller? He must have.

Going by his reflection’s appearance, Denji was fatter than he had ever been too. His face was
appropriately filled in. He didn’t look sick for the very first time in his life. Hell, thanks to the
added weight, the boy who looked back at him in the mirror was…not ugly? Almost good-
looking? Maybe? Denji wasn’t sure. He wasn’t exactly the best judge of these things.

Denji smiled. His reflection grinned back.

Agh. Gross.

His teeth weren’t any different than they had been before. Still weird and pointed. Denji hoped
they’d look normal.

Oh well.

Denji stripped off his ribbed undershirt and examined his torso.

Holy…holy shit.

Pochita’s tail stuck out of his sternum. It was right in the center of his chest along his nipple line.

Is…is Pochita literally inside of me?

Denji's chest tightened as he went to touch the black cord, but something in his brain stayed his
hand and distracted him from painful thoughts about Pochita.

Don’t touch.

Denji jerked his hand away and rubbed it down the back of his pants. It wasn’t a voice in his head,
but more like an instinctive notion. Either way, it was weird.

Not yet. Soon.

“Is that you, Pochita?” Denji said aloud.

No response.

Denji tried to ignore the bizarre newfound instinct as he examined the rest of his body.

His scars were gone. The testicle and kidney removal surgical scars, the cigarette burns above his
navel, the punishing “reminder” scars from his father and some of the gangsters, and even that one
long raised scar along his back that hurt like a bitch if he tried to stretch in specific ways…they
were all replaced by healthy skin.

If Denji didn’t tense his abdominals, he actually had a very small stomach now too. He could
pinch the skin there and feel a very thin layer of fat underneath.

Denji stripped off his pants and underwear. It was all the same on his lower half. No scars
anywhere to be seen. He had something resembling an ass now as well. He could press down on
his glutes and not immediately feel the back of his pelvic bones and tailbone as a result.

Did it…? No, it didn’t.

Denji regretfully realized that his dick hadn’t miraculously increased in size after a careful
examination.

What about…is it…?

Denji rested one foot on the sink and pressed his fingers onto his scrotum.

Fuck. It’s back.

Denji’s missing testicle was back. Of all the changes to his body, that’s the one that triggered a
couple of tears into his eyes. He felt whole again.
Pochita said that…

Denji brought his hand over his heart.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

It sounded like Asa's strong heartbeat. Normal and healthy.

Denji smiled to himself as a few happy tears fell. A big, toothy, devil-may-care grin.

He wanted to show Asa everything. He wanted her to listen to his new heart. He wanted to see her
reaction to this healthy and perhaps more attractive version of himself. Would she like how he
looked now? He hoped she would.

As Denji continued to examine his new form, uncertainty replaced his convictions.

Asa would still recognize me, right?

…She couldn’t forget about me in three days, could she?

Denji’s fingers found Pochita’s tail. He hesitantly touched it, carefully fingering the hollow
triangle. In the next millisecond, he had this…overwhelmingly primitive urge to pull it.

Not yet. Sever ties.

Ah, there it was again. The primal instinct.

Sever ties.

Denji knew what he had to do.

Denji dressed in the most nondescript clothing that Asa’s father’s surviving wardrobe could offer.
Through the process of discovering this pair of jeans, black hoodie, and plain old white T-shirt,
Denji found it unexpectedly upsetting to discover that he could no longer fit into Asa’s clothes as
he was able to merely a few days ago. Denji also managed to locate a pair of cheap old sunglasses
with black lenses. He was gonna have to borrow those too.

Sever ties.

Sever ties.

Sever ties.

The nonverbal command resounded in Denji’s skull over and over again as he slipped his shoes
back on, pulled the hoodie over his hair, and unfolded the sunglasses’ temples with his chin before
putting them on. Denji recalled how cautious Asa was bringing him to her apartment. He had to do
something similar if he wanted to return back to her. Why? He wasn’t sure to be honest.

If he was smart, Denji would wait for Asa to get home so she could lock the door behind him.

Sever ties.

No, he needed to go. If he didn’t do it now, he’d never be free.

Denji stuffed his hands into the hoodie and left the apartment unlocked. He hoped that no one
would enter while he was gone.

When Denji completely came to, he was chewing on a chunk of grey flesh.

This tastes like shit.

That was his first coherent thought before he even took the time to observe his surroundings. He
sucked the blood from the meat in his mouth, swallowed the juices, and spit out the ground up
remains onto the concrete floor. He threw the meat hunk down on the floor and looked about.

The monstrous Zombie Devil lay dead at his feet. Dozens of zombified people lay cut to ribbons
around him. Denji could observe every single body part on the ground to the most of the front, to
the side, and even partially behind his body without moving his head.

That wasn’t normal. His eyes shouldn’t be able to do that.

He glanced at the arm that wasn’t holding the piece of flesh. A chainsaw blade split horizontally
through his bloodied forearm.

What the fuck?

His head felt heavy. Denji brought his normal hand up to his face. He couldn’t see anything
directly in front of his eyes. It was a blindspot now, for some weird reason. That wasn’t normal
either.

As Denji brought his open hand closer, it was stopped by the sharp teeth of an unmoving chainsaw
blade.

Denji remembered.

He’d returned to the gang’s warehouse and found the Zombie Devil within.

The dumb thing didn’t recognize him until Denji removed the sunglasses.

“Huh? We cut him to ribbons and he’s still alive? Gross! I really hate Devil Hunters! You guys,
eat that freak.”

Do it. Pull the cord.

Denji obeyed his instinct. Pain and something buzzing split his forehead in half as a reward.
Apparently that “something” was a chainsaw nose.

Everything that happened after that was a blur. Judging by his surroundings, apparently he was
successful in his mission. He’d killed the Zombie Devil and massacred the Zombie Devil’s
followers.

Denji took two steps backward and stepped on something. A squelching sound, followed by a
crunch. Denji looked down.

It was the zombified old gangster with the beard, pitiful in death. In his daze, Denji chopped his
limbs and head off of his torso. They laid nearby. In stepping back, Denji had put his trainer clean
through the man’s rotted chest cavity.
Ugly bastard.

He spit onto the dead man’s face.

…My debt’s gone, he realized with glee. I’ve severed all my ties. I’m free.

Before he could dwell on that fact, Denji’s stomach growled. He wanted to eat more of the Zombie
Devil. He tasted bad, but there was a gaping void in Denji’s stomach that needed to be filled.

No.

Denji fought the primal instinct but to no avail. He needed to eat something.

No. Dangerous person comes this way. Leave.

If he didn’t obey whatever it was in his brain, something really bad was going to happen. Denji
could feel the guttural fear resonate through his entire body as he divorced himself from his urge to
consume. He retrieved Asa’s father’s shredded clothing and escaped the warehouse. As he ran, his
conscious thoughts again disappeared.

When Denji’s consciousness returned a second time, he was precariously balanced on the railing in
front of Asa’s apartment complex. A snowstorm blew about him. Though he’d removed his
trainers at some point in his daze, he wasn’t cold despite his currently bare torso and feet. Though
the hallway was quite dark, he could see his surroundings as if it was midday.

In his hands, he held the headless body of a white and brown bird. His one chainsaw-torn arm was
back to normal, he realized with relief.

How did he come into possession of a bird corpse?

Hm…

He faintly remembered capturing the bird after a short struggle. It tried to rip out his now
prehensile tongue. No big deal. It had been an effortless kill. The thing barely resisted after he
chopped one of its wings off.

Eat, his primal instinct indicated. Eat it all. Leave none.

Denji took another bite as his chainsaw blade nose projecting out of his face began to rotate against
his will. He didn’t care. He was hungry. The bird’s meat and blood wasn’t bad like the Zombie
Devil’s, especially since it was still hot. It filled the gaping void in his stomach. He couldn’t stop
drooling.

Before he could enjoy more of his meal without bothersome thoughts, Denji heard footsteps. A
beam of bright light shone directly into his face.

It was Asa.

Asa!

Denji’s heart jumped with happiness.

Judging by her clothes, she was back from a waitressing shift. She held a flashlight in her hand.
Denji realized that he’d lost track of time.

What time is it?

It must be a lot later than he thought it was.

Her expressive brown eyes went to his meal. They widened with horror.

Denji dropped the bird and jumped off of the rail.

Asa made a start before she bent over and vomited up sweet-smelling yellow and red mush.

“Get back,” she warned after several attempts to speak.

Asa…

Denji took a step closer. He didn’t know how to stop looking like this. How to turn back into an
appearance that at least somewhat resembled his old self.

“I’m warning you!”

His mind spun. He wanted his face back more than anything. He held his hands in front of him
with his palms up and open. Maybe she’d recognize them?

“Last chance!”

He stepped closer. Asa struck, bashing the heavy flashlight against his skull.

That hurt.

She hit him with the flashlight a second time.

Asa, it’s me. It’s Denji.

“Go away!” she screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Ah.

He hadn’t been back more than half a day and he’d already made her cry.

I’m the worst.

She hit him again. He let her.

He’d been stupid enough to hope she’d recognize him like this. Denji hadn’t seen his reflection yet,
but he was sure that this altered appearance of his, the one brought on by the yank of a starter cord
in his chest, was monstrous. Maybe he deserved this for scaring her in this horrific manner.

No.

Asa would never think like that.

“You’re worth it.”

Asa was insistent that he knew that. She made him repeat it.

As Denji focused on his conscious thoughts, he managed to get the chainsaw nose to stop running.
 I’m worth it.

Asa would never knowingly hurt Denji. She liked him. She liked him enough to hold him gently,
give him the best first kisses imaginable, and touch him in ways that he thought he’d never be
touched in. Liked him so much that she offered Pochita a devil contract to bring him back.

She just needed to know who this thing that stood in front of her was.

…Right?

Denji snatched the black flashlight from her and set it down on the ground. Asa went to protect her
face with her hands.

Asa…m’sorry I look like this.

It was him, not his primal instinct, thinking these things. Denji got as close as he dared to go and
sank down to his knees in front of her. The ground felt cold against his shins.

It’s okay.

He took one of her hands, removed her leather riding glove, and examined the bandages as a shiver
of fury went down his spine. Her beautiful hair was gone too, he realized. She’d pulled back her
bangs, but the rest now barely reached her chin.

What happened? Did someone do this to you?

With his hand holding hers, Asa observed Denji with fear sketched across her features. He debated
on speaking, but decided against the notion. It might freak her out even more. Instead, he pressed
her hand to his head.

Asa…listen to me.

Pochita accepted your contract. I agreed to it too.

I’m back.

I’m here to protect you.

I’m ready to be always there for you, no matter what.

I’m in this for the long run.

Denji felt a strange pressure upon the crown of his head release. Before he knew it, Asa’s fingers
came to rest in his hair.

Asa, I love you.

I love you so much.

Chapter End Notes

So, out of curiousity, I went and bought a CD copy of the 1979 Japanese production of
Fiddle on the Roof (see the end note discussion in Chapter 13). As far as I can
understand it, Tevye does indeed want to know if Golde will respond with "aishiteru"
(愛してる) in the Japanese translation of the song "Do You Love Me?" <3
 Chapter 17
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! I suppose we are back to only the manga chapter
now, which is still exciting (but not quite as exciting as a manga chapter and an anime
episode). I’m a true canon Asaden believer after Chapter 116, I tell you what. It’s
gonna end painfully but I’m excited for the ride.

Best,
Lady

There was blond hair underneath the devil’s red plastic skull.

“Give me my flashlight back,” Asa demanded in a squeaky voice. “I can barely see anything.”

Whatever kneeled before her hesitated.

“If you don’t give me a need to defend myself, I won’t hit you again. Promise.”

She didn’t blink until the devil obeyed. It slowly placed the flashlight back into Asa’s free hand.
Asa clicked the button back on and shined the beam down into her other hand.

It rested on a teenage boy’s head.

He looked up to Asa through short but dense black eyelashes, squinting against the bright light.

The boy wore Denji’s face, but everything else was different. The hair texture under her fingers
was wrong—too soft. Denji had a lower body temperature than her, while this individual’s scalp
was hotter than her own skin.

Most alarmingly, this guy watched her baffled expression with two functional eyes. His irises
weren’t the warm dark honey brown that Asa had memorized the color of. They were a dark
brownish red now—somewhere between cinnamon and rusty sienna. Too…too weird of a color to
be human. The puffy eyebags under his eyes remained, but the thinness of his face was also gone.
This boy was a healthy weight—lithe, but with a lean and defined musculature. Not scarily thin
like Asa knew.

The scent hit her. He smelled of rot, but a different type of rot that smelled different from that of a
dirty dumpster or from human bodies she’d smelled before. This kid, this apparently living kid,
smelled like fermented human decomposition if such a thing was even possible.

Asa’s eyes flitted down to his bare torso. Every single visible scar was gone from his frame. In
their place, a black thing protruded from the center of his sternum. No human medical condition
produced a growth or tumor that looked like that.

A cord-like black strand ending in a hallowed triangle. Asa recognized that triangle in an instant.
It made sense. This person…this person couldn’t be Denji. He couldn’t be human.

He had to be something else. Asa’s mind ran through her meager repertoire of devil knowledge,
which was mostly gleaned from classmate chatter, televised speculative news stories, and
newspaper articles.

Her eyes met his eyes and then flitted back to his chest.

Ah, yes.

She’d read about his kind before. Some could partially shape shift between two forms. One form
was undoubtedly monstrous. The other form was usually humanoid, but not quite convincing
enough to pass as a human.

Yep.

She was looking at a devil parading about in a human corpse.

A fiend.

Pochita stole Denji’s dead body.

“Asa!”

The fiend smiled up into her face. It was Denji’s same smile with the nose wrinkles and every
other detail intact. Combined with the smell, it was too much. Asa dry heaved and wrenched her
hand away from his head.

“Did you come back to mock me?” Asa got out between more dry heaves.

The smile vanished.

“…Huh? I dun know what ya mean—”

It was his voice too. A perfect copy. Asa felt like her heart had been crushed under the wheels of a
car.

The old Devil Hunter’s warning about discretion came to mind. Anyone could be listening to them
at any moment. They needed to get inside the apartment now. Asa’s eyes went again to the fiend’s
face. Was it safe to let him inside? If…if it was Pochita in Denji’s corpse, he wouldn’t hurt her,
would he?

“—Inside. Hurry,” Asa said in a low voice. She grabbed the fiend’s arm and began to pull him
inside.

“Wait—I need to get the bird.”

“There’s no time—”

“I have to do this. Okay?” the fiend insisted.

Asa let go of his arm. There was no reason to anger a devil at this point. The fiend fetched the
corpse and followed her inside. Someone or something busted through the locks, which led Asa to
close the door behind him and hurriedly sit down with her back pressed against it. She used her
body as a barrier between the apartment and the outside world.
I need to leave.

Asa needed to start packing, but how? Her eyes went to her guest. He looked unsure as to what to
do with himself, but seemed to be trying to put on a good face.

“Do ya need me to help?”

“Can…can you hold the door closed?” Asa asked timidly. An nonspeaking dog-like Pochita was
one thing. She could handle that version of him. A verbal Denji-shaped Pochita was another thing
entirely. She didn’t know what to expect.

“Sure, lemme do that. I…I think I’m stronger than ya, ‘specially now.”

“Oh…thanks.”

“‘Course.”

Asa and the fiend switched places. He didn’t even bother to sit down, deciding instead to casually
lean against the door.

“You think that’ll be enough…?” Asa asked as she set the flashlight on the desk, toed off her
shoes, yanked off her sweater, and threw down her book bag next to the door. To her relief, the
overhead light switched on despite the hallway’s power outage outside.

“...Yep, don’t worry about it. I don’t hear anything suspicious nearby. We’re okay.”

“How…how do you know that?”

The fiend cocked his head to the side in an eerily familiar manner to the little red devil.

“...You know what? I don’t know.”

The fiend’s eyes went from Asa to the corpse in his hands. His expression changed slightly and he
began to drool in front of her, thick ropes of saliva coming out of corners of his mouth. Blood from
the headless neck began to drip anew down his arms as he squeezed it tighter.

“Uh…”

“Yeah?” the fiend said.

“Is that your blood on you?”

“Um, maybe a little, but most of it’s not mine,” he responded, though he failed to tear his eyes
away from his meal. Asa wasn’t going to be able to distract him, was she?

“Okay…that’s good. Do you want to eat whatever you got there?”

His face lit up.

“Can I?”

“Only if you eat it over the tarp.”

Please get that body out of my sight.

Asa grabbed the dried blood-splattered tarp protecting the floor from gore and spread it out in front
of the fiend.

“Thanks.”

He stepped onto it and dragged his feet backwards to pull the tarp along underneath him until he
could lean against the door again. Asa turned around and winced at the sound of ripping flesh and
snapping bone as the fiend bit into his prey. It was a similar sound to the dissection scissors
snipping through the sad dead frog’s ribs.

“Asa, I’m glad to see you’re alright. I—” the fiend spoke through a mouthful of uratau.

“Alright.”

Hah.

Something inside Asa snapped against her better judgment.

“Don’t speak to me. How dare you use his voice. When I said save him and bring him back to me
alive and well, I didn’t mean like this. Not as a fiend,” Asa blurted out as she whipped back around
to glare at him.

An expression of pure hurt went over the boy’s face as he swallowed a mouthful of blood and
feathers. Her anger left her body only to be replaced by enormous guilt. Stranger or not, the thing
that might be Pochita in a corpse still looked like Denji. The last thing Asa wanted to do was hurt
him, even if “him” was some sort of twisted fragment of the boy she liked.

“...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean it like that.” Asa mumbled as she went to the closet and
pulled out her traveling suitcase. It was a black hard-shell suitcase, sufficiently generic-looking for
an escape that could end tragically.

“Asa, please—”

Asa felt like she was going to be sick again at the mere sound of his voice.

“Pochita, I beg of you, stop. I can’t do this,” Asa tried again. Her voice hitched.

“You…you think I’m Pochita?” he asked.

It sounded foolish to say out loud, but wasn’t that the only explanation? The little devil was
currently nowhere to be seen. As far as she knew, devils could not “resurrect” dead humans unless
they used the human’s body as a fiend. She was stupid in her impulse last night. Her proposed
contract was nothing but silly and self-indulgent. No self-respecting Devil would agree to a
contract that benefits the human holder more than themself. Not even the little red devil himself,
especially if he was this “Chainsaw” character that the bird told Asa about in her dreams, would
actually bring Denji back to her alive and well in the way she wanted him back. She got a
monkey’s paw for her efforts.

“…You aren’t?” Asa got out.

“...No…?”

He sounded like he was telling the truth, but she didn’t know what to think.

“Pochita told me that you wanted me back, so I’m back. I’m me,” the fiend said firmly.

That didn’t make any sense. Pochita was a strange little devil, but would he lie about his identity
and pretend to be his owner for her? Asa wasn’t sure.

“I’m Denji, and—”

It can’t be.

“—no one else.”

No way.

Asa was the daughter of an emergency medicine-focused nurse father and a mother who was a
wildlife biologist by training and a prodigy floriculturalist by trade. She believed in science. Sure,
Asa would let herself believe that a devil could relieve the physical distress of a dying teenager. If a
cat’s purr could be proven to promote healing and reduce stress levels in their owner, why couldn’t
a devil do something similar? What she couldn’t do was to permit herself to believe that this kid
claiming to be Denji was a human. It wasn’t scientifically possible. She refused to believe what she
was hearing.

Asa couldn’t get the image of Denji’s mutilated corpse out of her mind as she began to gather only
her most essential clothes. Limp and discolored. A torso full of gaping holes. An unseeing eye and
gaping jaw, haphazardly covered by cloth.

“I…I want to believe you, but I don’t think I can—at least, not right now,” Asa got out.

“…Can I ask why ya can’t?” the fiend asked in a gentle tone—the same one he used to calm her
down before after the pretty boy Devil Hunter’s bad news by the dumpster.

Asa paused with a pair of jeans in her hands.

“There’s an old man in charge of the gang you’re in debt to, right?” Asa asked.

“There was. There was an old man.”

Asa looked to the fiend. “Was?”

“Mhm,” he mumbled. More drool dripped down his chin. “You see…” he trailed off, his mind
clearly focused on the fresh kill in his hands again. His stomach growled loudly. “Um…le—lemme
me finish with ‘this’ real quick.”

With a barely audible pop, his jaw unhinged before Asa’s very eyes. He began to shove the rest of
the bird’s body down his throat like how a snake would eat its prey. Asa couldn’t tear her eyes
away.

…What the fuck.

With a third of the rest of the bird in his mouth, the fiend made eye contact with Asa and,
embarrassed, turned away so that she couldn’t see what he was doing.

Calm down, Asa. His body is gone, but whatever replaced him doesn’t seem violent towards you,
Asa tried to reassure herself further as she forced herself to look away and continue to hurriedly
pack her essentials. He’s just hungry. Let him eat. He’s getting rid of the body while he’s at it.

Her visitor loudly swallowed, coughed violently, and wiped his mouth on his bare arm before
speaking.

“You see, I killed him.”

“...You…you what?” Asa dropped a pair of socks on the ground.

“I woke up earlier today, something in my…my heart, I guess, told me that one, I’m back to protect
you, and two, I gotta go kill the entire gang holding my father’s debt. I went and killed the gang,
and now I’m back for you. It’s okay—they were all zombies, including the old man.”

“...Zombies?” Asa asked as she went to pick the socks up.

“Have at ‘m, Zombie Devil.” The video snippet flashed through her brain.

“Zombies,” the fiend confirmed.

Something in Asa’s chest lightened.

Good, she thought. She didn’t think she could kill people, as much as she felt like doing it at times,
but those men deserved their fates. She didn’t care if they were zombies or not. They killed Denji.
What other reason did she need to hate them?

“...M’sorry, I think I interrupted what ya were gonna say.”

“Oh. On…on my end, it was a bit different. Before…before you came to, the old gangster sent me
a video with Denji’s throat being sliced open. The same guy came to my apartment with four
trashbags afterwards. He threatened to hurt me if I told anyone of what I’d seen. I looked in the
bags…”

The image of a severed leg in a bloodied trainer would haunt her for many years to come if she
was permitted to live beyond tonight.

“...They contained Denji and Pochita’s bodies in…in pieces. The gang cut them into pieces.”

“...Asa…”

The fiend looked like he wanted to come closer to her, but he obediently stayed in place with his
back to the door.

“It…it was really bad,” Asa got out as she averted her eyes. The shock barrier that kept her mind in
one piece was threatening to crack open. She mentally forced it closed as she debated on what
second pair of shoes to pack. She settled on her trusty trainers and chucked them in the suitcase
before running over to grab more clean socks. She hadn’t folded any recently, so she resorted to
grabbing as many as she could that looked warm from the sock basket, packing them, and hoping
she had enough of them for when she got to her destination.

“That…that sucks.”

“It really, really sucked. I pieced their bodies back together, cleaned them, and stuck them under
my comforter so I didn’t have to stare at four trash bags sitting in my apartment.”

“Shit,” his voice said weakly.

“I literally held the rotting and bodiless head of the boy I kissed only a couple days earlier in my
hands. Can…can you see why I don’t believe that you’re him? Why I believe that you’re likely
some sort of fiend?”

“I remember things, though, I—”

“—So do some fiends. If the devil keeps the human brain inside them somewhat intact, they retain
memories from their dead human hosts. Besides, Pochita clung to Denji like a dog. If any devil
could replicate any human’s speech patterns and mannerisms, it would be Pochita replicating
Denji.”

Asa remembered that one little factoid from Iseumi’s passionate rant during a group project last
year.

“Asa…”

“If you are really Pochita, you can stop lying. I won’t be mad if you tell me the truth.”

“But…I’m not Pochita,” the fiend emphasized.

“Whatever you say, then.”

It was useless trying to argue her point.

“So…so there’s no way to prove to you that I am who I say I am?” the fiend asked.

“Not…not now. I…I need an expert, or more data, or more rigorous testing…I just need something
more than your words alone.”

The fiend didn’t respond. Asa finally got the courage to look up again at the bloodied fiend leaning
against her apartment door.

He’d bit his bottom lip. So hard that blood began trickling down his chin, intermixing with the
saliva.

“...H—hey!” Asa exclaimed in surprise. She grabbed the first piece of cloth that she could find—
an orphaned running sock in the sock basket—and hurried over to the fiend. She breathed
haggardly through her mouth to combat the stench.

“Stop that.”

He bit down harder as he studied her with glassy eyes. His chest heaved, but he suppressed every
single noise he could possibly emit. Asa recognized this practiced habit from Denji’s first night in
the apartment.

Fiend or not, she’d gone too far. More crushing guilt settled heavily in her gut.

“Stop,” Asa repeated as she used a combination of her sleeves and the sock to wipe away the
wetness on his chin and neck. She winced as the saliva and blood mixture soaked through her
bandages. When she was finished, she cradled his jaw in her hand like she would have done to
Denji. “Hurting yourself won’t do you or me any good right now. Please stop?”

Asa held unflinching eye contact with this creature until he finally relented, relaxing his jaw. His
teeth left precise punctures along the bottom edge of his lower lip.

“Ouch,” Asa said in sympathy.

“...Huh?”

“You’re bleeding.”

The fiend brought up a dirty hand to his lip and stared at his own fresh blood that came away.
“I didn’t feel that,” he gasped with wide eyes. He set his jaw as a myriad of emotions went over his
face.

“Huh?”

“It didn’t hurt,” he clarified.

Congenital analgesia was the name for the condition in humans if she remembered it correctly, but
Asa didn’t know squat about devil or fiend biology if such fields even existed in the first place.

Are these creatures even similar enough in form to have similar biology?

Yet another question she didn’t know the correct answer to. She had no words to comfort him with.

“Oh…well, we’ll deal with it when we have time. For now, use this,” Asa said instead as she
pressed the sock against the wounds.

The fiend took the sock and held it in place.

“There we go. Thank you.”

“...Asa?”

“Yes?”

The fiend readied himself to answer her.

“Pochita…Pochita told me that this would be hard for both of us, but shit… I wasn’t expecting my
first time seeing you again to turn out like this,” he hiccupped as more tears threatened to fall,
emotionally steadied himself, and continued to speak. “Asa, I don't care if ya think I’m a weird
corpse or whatever. Pochita's not...not with us because he's in here, I think, but I'm still here too, so
I'm not him," the fiend tried to explain as he patted the pull cord protruding from his chest.
"...All'm trying to say is just…just don’t throw me away just ‘cause I’m different from the Denji
you knew before,” the fiend begged.

Asa didn't know what to make of Denji's poor explanation, but the last sentence struck a cord with
her.

“'Throw you away?'”

“...Don’t leave me.”

Asa’s eyes went to the empty ceramic bowl that lay discarded nearby. She’d expected to feel
something when Pochita agreed to her contract. An invisible string connecting interdimensional
fingers, a weird new birthmark or tattoo, or even a psychic link. Instead, she’d gotten nothing.
Pochita the devil left her completely in the dark with a stinking and crying fiend that looked like,
acted like, and claimed to be the boy she liked very, very much.

Asa sighed quietly.

Her whole plan to leave would likely end in failure. Her landlord would notice a damaged door and
no Asa by morning and would unfailingly notify the police and her emergency contact (her aunt).
If a Devil Hunter didn’t locate her by tomorrow at noon, she’d be surprised.

She carefully wiped away the grime and tears from under the fiend’s eyes. The being in front of her
was still most likely some amalgamation of Denji and Pochita. She knew in her heart that she
couldn’t leave either of them behind. If…if she didn’t try to bring him along, the red-haired
woman would find him. As long as she had breath in her body, Asa wouldn’t let that happen.

Might as well try.

“Listen. I’m not throwing you away, leaving you, or doing anything of that sort. The entire gang’s
dead, right?”

“Yeah…?” He said as Asa wiped his dripping nose.

“Well, then there’s no reason for you to stay in Tokyo. You’re coming with me. We’re running
away tonight.”

“We…we’re running away?”

“Yep. Go take a shower and brush your teeth while I pack your stuff.”

Asa looked him up and down. If Pochita was truly inhabiting Denji’s body, he caused his vessel to
grow noticeably taller than Asa was now. He probably wouldn’t be able to fit in her stuff anymore,
so she’d have to pack every stitch of her father’s existing clothing. “I’ll bring you something to
wear and leave it for you in the bathroom.”

The fiend didn’t respond. His sorrowful expression was replaced by a cautiously optimistic one.

“Got it?” Asa emphasized.

“...Yup.”

Asa gave the apartment one last lingering look as she went over her mental checklist.

Her book bag? Check.

Her identification paperwork? Check.

Every single yen to her name? Check.

Two changes of clothing for her? Check.

Essential toiletries? Check.

Her trainers? Check.

Pencils and a notebook? Check.

Madoka’s flashlight? Check.

Her three surviving photographs of her parents? Check.

Her mother’s dead cellular mobile phone that Asa couldn’t find the charger to? Check.

Her mother’s favorite quilt with the sashiko stitching? Check.

Three changes of clothing for Den—the fiend? Check.

She wasn’t leaving much behind. Her school books and homework, her school uniform, some
inexpensive furniture, cleaning supplies, cooking stuff, and about ninety percent of her menstrual
products arsenal. That was really it. Besides the VHS player and television, there wasn’t even
anything that she could’ve sold for more funds.

The final ensemble song from Fiddler on the Roof came to mind. The one the cast sang as they
prepared to be exiled from their village of Anatevka.

A little bit of this

A little bit of that.

A pot, a pan, a broom, a hat…

People who pass through Anatevka don't even know they've been here.

What do we leave? Nothing much. Only Anatevka…

Soon I'll be a stranger in a strange new place,

Searching for an old familiar face

From Anatevka.

The context wasn’t the same in the slightest, but Asa found some comfort in those lyrics.

Goodbye, apartment. Thank you for some happy memories and for keeping me safe while you
could.

“Ready?” the fiend asked. After she dried his hair, Asa managed to layer him quite sufficiently,
from thermal underwear, to a warm inner layer, to her father’s water resistant outerwear and snow
boots. Thankfully, the snow boots were only about a size too large. It was a conundrum easily
remedied by layered socks. Asa had wrapped her scarf around his neck, effectively obscuring his
lower face. Her knit cap covered his hair as well. Unless…unless someone knew about his
changed eyes, no one would suspect that this person was the reanimated corpse of a homeless
teenager named Denji.

“...Ready,” Asa responded.

“Y’know where are we going?”

No idea.

“...We head south. We’ll get the last train towards Kyoto and we’ll figure it out from there.”

“‘Kay.”

Asa instinctively reached for the fiend’s hand with her free one. He happily accepted it and
squeezed it once before opening the apartment door and exiting first.

He looked back to Asa, who paused at the door’s threshold still with her hand in his. In her other
hand, Asa had a vice grip on her rolling suitcase handle.

“You good?” he asked.

“Of course.”
Asa took one last breath, stepped over the threshold, and escaped with the fiend into the night.

After abandoning Asa’s moped nearby, the fiend and Asa bought two bullet train tickets in cash at
Tokyo Station without issue. Two tickets was an entire fourth of her meager savings, gone in a
blink just like that. Oh well.

For a brief second, Asa thought that their escape might be a walk in the park.

About two hours and we’ll be in Kyoto. Once we’re there, we’ll find an Internet cafe and rent out a
cubicle for a while. Easy as pie.

Her hope was short-lived. Asa saw them first when she nervously surveyed her surroundings from
her seat on the train. Two Public Safety Devil Hunters entered their passenger car mere minutes
after Asa and the fiend boarded the train ten minutes before departure.

A woman with an eyepatch.

A young man with a topknot and piercing blue eyes.

“Abandon your dogs and run as far away from here as you possibly can,” the pretty boy Devil
Hunter warned her.

Too late.

Fiend or not, Asa wasn’t going to leave the boy beside her. She wasn’t going to break her
promise.

The young man Devil Hunter looked rumpled and disheveled, with pieces of hair falling out of his
updo. The woman Devil Hunter looked like she’d been through equal hell, with similarly mussed
hair and dirt streaked across her button-up shirt.

They sat down across from the fiend in the aisle seat and Asa in the window seat. Only the aisle
separated the four of them.

Shit, shit, shit. Don’t panic.

Asa decided to go with the very first thought that popped into her brain.

“Sweetheart?” Asa said.

The fiend looked over at her. He’d taken off the scarf, but kept the cap on by Asa’s request. The
puncture wounds from his teeth along his bottom lip were already healed over. Spots of tender new
pink skin were the only indicators that he had had injuries there in the first place.

“Get on my lap.”

“What…?”

“You’re…way too drunk.” Asa patted her thighs with one hand as she pulled her rain jacket hood
lower on her face. “Come here before the train starts moving and you puke.”

“I’m not…?”

“That cute bartender gave you too many shots of…of tequila, so please? Trust me, your nausea
always lessens when you do it,” Asa lied urgently. Despite her best efforts to appear cool, she felt
her face go full on allergic reaction red.

If it was a busy passenger car, Asa would’ve never suggested doing something so intimate in
public, but she couldn’t let the Devil Hunters get a view of his face. There were ten passengers in
their car. If any of them, but especially these Devil Hunters, were on the lookout for a teenage boy
with pointed teeth, blond hair, and striking eyes, they were bound to notice and perhaps try to
interrogate, or worse, hurt or kill the fiend. She couldn’t have that happen.

Asa saw her insane reasoning click on his face and he nodded.

The fiend stood, stepped over her suitcase that they’d stowed in front of his legs, and gave her a
look of determination before carefully straddling her thighs. With his knees pressed against the
cushioned train seat, he sat down cautiously above her knees. The newfound height difference
made the positioning awkward, but she made the best of it. Asa wrapped her arms around his lower
back and pulled him to her. Before he could hide his reaction, that look of determination quickly
shifted into that heavy lidded and almost drunk expression that she was all too familiar with from
Denji. With a breathy noise, the fiend melted into her touch as he slouched forward and went
completely limp. He loosely wrapped his arms around her head, hiding her face from the other
passengers as well.

His touch, warmth, and weight were comforting. Asa kind of liked it, even if it was just because
the fiend reminded her of the boy she lost. He pressed his cheek to hers with a relieved sigh. He
smelled like Denji too, though that was due to the vanilla conditioner she left behind.

Asa closed her eyes and paid attention to the rumblings of the train as it departed and picked up
speed. Every few minutes, she peered over the fiend’s arm at the Devil Hunter pair for the briefest
millisecond. They seemed to be largely ignorant of the “drunk” boyfriend sitting on his weird
girlfriend’s thighs.

“Two devil assignments in a day. That was ridiculous. The second one though…‘dangerous
Zombie Devil,’ my ass,” the female Devil Hunter grouched. “We didn’t even get to kill it.
Whatever got to it first chewed half of it to bits. Insane. Never seen anything like it.”

Asa stiffened.

“It didn’t get to the body fragment, though,” her companion added. “That’s all that matters.”

“It’s a measly metal splinter. Hardly worth our efforts.” The woman pulled a cigarette from a pack
and offered it to the young man while making a kind expression despite the gunk. “Argh, I can’t
believe that Makima wants us to meet with what’s-his-face from Division 1 in Kyoto by six in the
morning. So stupid.”

The volume at which the woman spoke carelessly made Asa wonder if she was drunk.

“She knows what she’s doing,” the young man retorted.

“Right,” the young woman huffed. “Of course she does.”

The young man didn’t respond, prompting the young woman to ask another question and fill the
silence.

“So…there’s a question that’s been gnawing away at me all day. I simply must know your
answer.”
“Shoot.”

“If you could only eat almond tofu or ramen for the rest of your life, which one would you pick?”

“Hm,” the young man paused to exhale and answer his companion. “Ramen.”

“Oh? I thought you’d pick almond tofu.”

“That’d be too much sugar. I’d want the ramen.”

“Fair. Okay, next question. Let’s say I drop dead tomorrow and Miss Makima offers to partner you
with a fiend or devil currently in our division. Which one would you take?”

“…What kinda shitty question is that?”

“Just answer it.”

“Maybe…maybe the Angel Devil.”

“Eeeh? Why that one?”

“I…I don’t know, okay?”

“No…I get it. That devil's really cute, ‘specially with the messy red hair and those big brown eyes
of his. Do you think he has any emotion besides ‘bored?’ Personally, I’d like to see him cry.”

“…Sadist.”

“With his size, it’d be very easy to manhandle him if ya wanted to. Make him sit on your lap,
ya’know?”

“Himeno…”

“Do you think his wings are…are…ah, what’s the word…oh, yes! An ‘erogenous zone’ like they
are for parrots?”

“Himeno!”

“What? You’ve never thought about fucking one of the humanoid devils if there were no
consequences to doing such a thing?”

“…We’re stopping this conversation right here,” the young man said stiffly. He fingered the sheath
seemingly out of habit that was affixed along his spine before going to scratch his neck.

“Hmph…fine,” the woman said, drawing out the last word. She ran hands down the front of her
high-waisted dress pants.

“…Himeno?”

“Hm?”

“Don’t die on me. Seriously,” the young man said matter-of-factly as he dumped cigarette ashes
into a shiny silver portable pocket ashtray.

“Hmmm…I’ll see what I can do,” the woman said teasingly. “And Aki?”

“What?”
“If…if I fail in this futile effort to live and die before you, will you cry for me?”

“…Don’t even joke about that,” the young man named Aki responded as he put the butt of his
cigarette into the same ashtray. He kept a placid face, but his voice betrayed his emotion.

About half an hour later, the duo switched passenger cars without so much as a glance in Asa and
the fiend’s direction. Asa’s adrenaline dropped as the connecting passenger car doors closed.

“Um…” Asa began before halting.

What should I call him?

“D…Den…Denji?”

Asa felt her throat thicken as she said it. It felt…it felt so wrong, but the fiend called himself that.
As such, it seemed most appropriate to refer to him by the same name as the boy she lost, though it
was hard to say aloud.

“Hm?”

“They’re gone,” she whispered.

“Oh…?”

“You can…can sit back down now,” Asa said more assertively as she removed her hands from his
back.

The fiend’s body began to tremble above her.

“...Denji?” Asa asked.

“’M awake, promise. Not sleeping. Just listening.”

“You…you can still get off me, though.”

“Um…” the fiend blindly searched for her hands and pressed them again around him. “Can we stay
like this, actually? Just for a little while longer?”

“I really don’t—”

“Please?” he mumbled into her ear. “‘M not feeling too hot right now, so this feels really good…”

“Huh?” That familiar feeling of tenderness and concern came back into Asa’s system in a rush.

“It’s not like the freaky and bloody heart shit you were having to put up with me. Swear it. I’ll be
right as rain in a little while, so don’t worry ‘bout it…”

“You sure?”

“Mhm. It’s…it’s more like I missed this, ya holding me…like… really badly.”

She was weak to his voice.

“...Fine. Ten more minutes.”

“...‘Kay…”
Denji’s trembling slowed and his body went limp again. Despite everything she’d done and said to
him tonight, he trusted her. Mitaka Asa, the awkward, grouchy, and antisocial curmudgeon who
knew too much about medicine, biology, and musicals.

“...Denji?”

“Hm?”

“I’m…I’m sorry about hitting you with the flashlight earlier. Won’t happen ever again.”

“S’okay. I forgive ya.”

Denji held her tighter, leaned further into her touch, and arched his front slightly into hers. Even
through their clothing, Asa could hear his heartbeat.

Huh?

It was different than she remembered.

Asa removed a hand from his back and slipped off her riding glove. She ran her hand under his
coat with nothing but his thin silk thermal undershirt separating their bare skin. The action caused
Denji to hold his breath. After her fingers brushed lightly over the pull cord, Asa pressed her palm
above his heart. Denji reached up and held her hand in place over his coat.

Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub.

His—or Pochita’s, she supposed—heart was strong and healthy. A solid fifty-five beats per minute.

Tears came involuntarily to Asa’s eyes.

Fuck.

If… if the guy who sat in her lap was really a fiend, the devil inside of Denji’s corpse had her
already wrapped around his little finger. Asa wondered if he knew that.

She buried her face into the front of his coat.

Is…is there a chance that he could really be Denji?

Against all of her rational logic and scientific reasoning, Asa hoped that everything she said about
him tonight was dead wrong.
 Chapter 18
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! The chapter today was CUTE. I hope Yoru isn’t
successful in her attempt to yank Denji’s spine out of his body.

Thank you for your continued readership as this story begins to wrap up.

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Ten minutes turned into almost the entire midnight to very early morning train ride to Kyoto. Asa
tried to stay awake by watching snow flurry upon snow flurry set in high contrast to the darkened
sky outside as they beat upon the train’s window panes, but to no success. Denji, if this new
version could possibly be him, felt like fifteen heavy quilts stacked on top of each other even
though he tried to keep most of his weight off her legs.

“You sleep, Asa,” Denji mumbled after he felt her hypnic jerks under him. “We’re safe right now.
I’ll stay awake if that changes.”

His lazy voice broke her out of her doze and sharpened her senses. Asa should be on high alert in a
futile escape of her own making like this, but Denji’s presence calmed her down like nothing else.

“No, I’m staying up with you.”

Denji locked his fingers around the back of her neck and leaned back to look at her, his forearms
resting on her shoulders. A sad little smile played on his lips, but he didn’t speak his mind.

“‘Kay,” was the only response. He tucked her head under his chin and held her close again, a
reverent gesture that made Asa’s heart skip a beat. She didn’t even care that she was sweating like
a fool in three layers of winter clothing in addition to a heavy teenage boy or possible fiend all but
sitting on her legs.

He’d been so careful this entire time not to squash her.

“You can sit down fully, k’now?” Asa whispered. “I’m not a piece of tissue paper.”

“Eh?” Denji responded in a similar tone.

“Sit. Like this.”

Asa grabbed the tops of his thighs and pushed him down against her. He emitted the tiniest squeak
of surprise as he obeyed her physical command, sitting down entirely and hugging her tighter. His
powerful heartbeat thumped away in his chest.

Denji was incredibly heavy and solid-feeling with his full weight on top of her. He was even more
comfortable to rest under than before, if such a thing was even possible.

Wow.

Asa could feel his well-trained muscles pressed against her body.

Healthy.

This was the body she wanted for Denji. Nourished and strong.

Denji gave a contented sigh as they sat there in as comfortable of silence as they possibly could be
given the circumstances. The rumbling of the train wheels added to the quiet ambiance.

This…possible fiend was just so much like Denji. If the Devil Hunter Club’s president was correct,
Asa wondered how much of Denji’s brain might be original. She balked at the sudden thought as
the train’s intercom sounded over the passenger car.

“Your attention please,” an older man’s rich voice announced over the speaker.

Something suddenly changed in Denji’s body language. He cocked his head, listening to something
that wasn’t there. His arms, his legs, and his core tightened above her. Taught and ready to spring
into action. Asa felt her own body tense up reactively.

“Uh, Asa—” Denji spoke into her ear.

The operator threw on the emergency break and the train came roaring to a sudden stop. People
were jostled from their seats with surprised examinations. Two poorly secured roller bags and one
battered briefcase went rolling down the middle of the aisle. Denji expertly stood in a manner
where he wasn’t caught off guard by the abrupt stop. He held Asa in place by the shoulders to
ensure that she stayed in place.

“—We regret that services are being subject to delay because of a large unidentified organism
damaging an upcoming section of the en route railroad tracks—”

The dimmed overhead lights flickered off. The emergency lights failed to turn on.

“—and every effort is being made to restore services to normal as quickly as possible. Once we
resume our course, we shall be at the Kyoto station in ten minutes. In the meantime, please stay in
your seat and listen for further announcements. We apologize for the inconvenience this may cause
you."

“Asa, we need to leave.” Denji grabbed her scarf and wrapped it around his face. He grabbed the
suitcase with a weightless ease in one hand and her hand in the other.

“How—”

“Please trust me, okay?” Denji said desperately in the dark as he tried to keep his voice low.

“I can’t see—”

“I’ll guide you.”

“Okay.”

Asa was grateful that she’d kept her backpack on as Denji pulled her into a standing position and
dragged her down the aisle. She stumbled blindly behind him, but he confidently knew the way.
He stopped, fiddled with something, and threw a heavy object to the floor. By the sound, Asa
assumed it was an emergency window.

“Hey! What’re you doing?!” another passenger shouted.

Denji ignored the passenger. He threw the suitcase out the window, picked Asa up with an
effortless ease before he half-helped and half-pushed her through the hole, and then jumped out
himself. As soon as his feet landed on the ground, Denji took her hand again, squeezed it tightly,
and began to drag her behind him. Snowflakes whipped around their heads as they began to run
from the railroad tracks in pitch black darkness.

Asa’s lungs soon strained with the effort. They were blindly running through at least fifteen
centimeters of snow. It was considerable exertion to simply walk in the stuff, let alone run in. The
freezing air about them hurt to inhale.

“Denji—” Asa called out amidst her fruitless gasps for oxygen.

He responded, but she couldn’t hear him against the wind.

That’s when it happened.

She tripped. There was something under the snow—a rock, log, root, or something. The top of her
foot made contact with the object and she went crashing face first into the snow.

As soon as her fingers fell from Denji’s, something pierced through the back of her left thigh. It felt
like a huge single digit gauge needle. A burning sensation spread across her skin all the way to her
toes. As she tried to stand, something stabbed her again in the same thigh. The burning sensation
worsened and deepened.

“Asa!” Denji screamed nearby, though she couldn’t see where he was.

Something else grabbed her by the arm and pinned it to her side. Asa tried to rip it away with her
free hand, but realized it was too strong and slippery to successfully remove. The creature wrapped
another piece of its body around her other leg, and then yet another piece around her waist. Suckers
—like those on an cephalopod, pressed down against her jacket.

“Denji!” Asa shrieked before the creature bit into her side, right above her hip bone. Its mouth cut
through her clothes with ease and sunk into her flesh. It refused to let go, despite her valiant
attempt to kick the gigantic creature with her free leg. A deep, throbbing pain emanated from the
site as it bit down harder. Whatever pierced through her thigh penetrated her skin for a third time,
this time right above her knee. She screamed her throat raw into the uncaring snow.

Asa heard the faint roar of a chainsaw blade as stars swam before her vision and she lost
consciousness.

When Asa came to, she sat cross legged on an unfamiliar wooden floor. It was minimally lit in
whatever this dream space she now occupied. Wispy streaks of light came from nonsensical nooks
and crannies in her surroundings.

Asa winced. She could still feel the pain of whatever had bit her in the side. It was a dull ache,
similar to the pulled abdominal muscle her middle school self always got when she decided to eat
too many snacks before kendo practice started. As she carefully patted herself down, Asa
discovered with cautious relief that she wasn’t bleeding. She was also curiously dressed in
undamaged winter clothing she’d left the apartment in.

Asa wanted to yell for Denji. To let him know that she was somewhere strange, but it seemed like
she was okay-ish. Even if he was a fiend now, she wanted him to know and not to panic. She hoped
she was still alive and that this was a temporary condition rather than a permanent one. A
postmortem existence as a bunch of mushrooms or food for a sapling sounded nice. Trapped within
her mortal mind and stuck in the permanent near darkness sounded less nice. Despite the urge,
something in her hindbrain told her to stay quiet.

As her eyes adjusted to the meager light that was there, Asa realized that a black Maglite flashlight
rested on the ground in front of her. She picked it up and clicked on the button. To her relief, it
worked.

The flashlight indicated that she was in a long and straight hallway of some sort. From where she
stood, she saw no door or turn in the corridor on either end.

Her relative relief turned into horror as the silence around her broke.

Asa heard something or someone humming a repetitive tune a hundred meters ahead of her. As she
strained her ears, she could barely make out the repetitive phrase spoken in a sing-song manner as
she gingerly stood up. Cold sweat trickled down her spine.

“The future…is best!”

The middle aged and masculine-sounding voice came from behind her instead of in front of her.
Asa spun on her heels, but the flashlight revealed nothing. She had no idea what she was dealing
with.

“The… future is best!”

Now the voice sounded like it came from the ceiling. Nothing.

“The. Future. Is. Best!”

The floor. Nothing.

“The—future—is—best!”

Behind her again. Nothing.

“The…future…is…”

The sound came from right beside Asa. She didn’t want to look. The being went silent. A baited
silence, wasn’t it?

You know what? Fine.

Asa steeled herself and turned.

“Best!”

Asa screamed at the towering behemoth standing beside her as it said the word with tremendous
glee. It looked like a mangy yeti wearing a Viking warrior’s helmet and growing out of a gnarled
and twisted oak stump. A gross mockery of those beautiful paintings of the nymph Daphne
transforming into a laurel tree as she ran away from the Greek god Apollo. An oversized eyeball
with an orange iris stared out of a vertical elliptical hole gored into the creature’s chest. Leafy ivy-
like vines dangled down from its powerful outstretched arms.

“The future is best! The future is best!”

The creature shimmed and danced to its own song.

“Say it with me!”

Asa was always too much of a follower.

“The future is best!” she repeated, following its same intonation.

“One more time! With flair!”

“The future is best!” Asa sang the phrase overdramatically with jazz hands.

The creature dropped its hands and presumably stared at her through its giant eye for a moment. It
let out a careless cackle and chucked her under the chin.

“You’re the first human to sing for me in one hundred and fifty years! To make things even better,
you’re cute too! Smashing!”

The six slits on the front of the creature’s “helmet” opened wider and revealed three sets of eyes
smaller but otherwise identical to the one in its chest.

“Remarkable! Heehee, I like you already.”

Asa stepped away from the creature. Her hands started trembling around the flashlight as she tried
to hold the beam steady.

“Ah, where’re my manners?”

The creature snapped its black-nailed fingers. Six pale blue and red will-o'-the-wisps materialized
and encircled around the branched antlers growing from its head. The light was strong enough to
illuminate their immediate surroundings.

“You’re Chainsaw’s beloved, are you not?”

“...What?”

“Not the devil himself, but his vessel’s. You’re the one who made a contract with Chainsaw to save
his human pet?”

The creature looked at her expectantly.

Asa hesitated. The creature before her had to be a devil. Should she be telling it the truth?

“How…how do you know this?”

The devil cackled again.

“Because, my dear, your ridiculous and frankly foolish decision to create a contract with the most
powerful devil of us all altered your future dramatically. Since the future—including yours—is my
area of expertise, it is my responsibility to monitor it. As you know, the future is best! Come,
follow me.”
The devil began moving down the hall by transporting itself bit by bit. It disappeared for a second,
only to reappear again two meters further away from her. Asa trotted along in an effort to keep up.

Despite the fear in her gut, Asa’s intellectual curiosity got the best of her.

“You’re the Future Devil, then?”

“The one and only. The future is best, therefore I am the best devil.”

“Can…can I ask you a few questions?”

“Ask away! That doesn’t mean I’ll answer any of them.”

“Is this a dream?”

“You witnessed the boy you love’s rotting corpse come back to life and you think a pleasant
conversation with a nonviolent devil is a dream? Shame on you.”

Asa flushed with embarrassment. “Love” might be an overstatement, but the devil wasn’t entirely
wrong.

“Are you taking me back to Denji—to Chainsaw’s pet?”

“No, not yet.”

“…Will I be going back?”

“You’re not dead yet, so I would assume so.”

The center of Asa’s chest tightened as she remembered the sound of the chainsaw. Denji was in
danger, she was sure of it. She needed to leave.

“Can you send me back now?”

“Hmmm, your return remains in the future, where all good things belong. No reason to dwell on it.
All good things come to those who wait. There’s something I’ve been instructed to show you in the
present.”

“By who?”

“Hmm, how do I put this…aah, yes! I owe Chainsaw a debt. Heehee, ‘debts.’ Such a human
concept. I’m paying off my debt to Chainsaw.”

A surprisingly talkative devil, though Asa was pretty sure he told mostly lies. Wouldn’t do her any
good to take his word for face value. After what felt like kilometers of walking, Asa and the Future
Devil encountered a fork in the hallway.

“Here we go! From the future and into the past. Goodbye, my beloved future, we shall see you
again soon.”

“Huh?” Asa asked as she slowed to a stop. “You’re not showing me my future?”

“Not at all! Knowledge of your true future is worth…much more than a debt fulfillment to
Chainsaw,” the Future Devil exclaimed as what could only be described as a sinister expression
crossed its mouthless face. “Alas, Chainsaw said I couldn’t entice you with a contract. Otherwise,
I’d offer to stick your head in my chest.”
Asa shivered.

“To answer your question, my eternal bedfellows, the Cosmos Devil and the Past Devil, are
currently galavanting about Earth-side and enjoying the erotic pleasures of a powerful woman. I
must handle most of their duties while they’re away. Stuff about information and the past. Two
truly boring and dreadful things. The future is best! In your case, I will be showing you the past.
Not your past, but an important fragment of another’s past. Come, come, we shall not delay.”

The Future Devil readily headed down the left corridor, but Asa stayed put.

What does…?

Asa shone the flashlight down the right corridor where she guessed that the “future” belonged to.

The right corridor’s tiled floor was lined with dead chickens, bloodstained feathers, trampled
flowers, and dissected frogs. The frogs tried to hop about, but they kept tripping over their trailing
organs. At the end of the corridor stood two figures. Denji, in his monstrous devil-like form,
loomed over a girl who looked like herself. She held an odd-looking black and white sword limply
in her hands, but she didn’t try to protect herself.

The girl didn’t resist as Denji brought the chainsaw projecting out of his forehead down on her
scalp, splitting the parietal planes of her skull and cleaving the hemispheres of her brain in half.
Dark red blood sprayed from the sagittal cut, but the girl still didn’t resist. As soon as Denji
removed his chainsaw, the girl turned to look at Asa. The girl wore long twin tails and Asa’s school
uniform, but her face was wrong. She had one huge scar like Madoka that started at her zygomatic
arch, horizontally slashed across the bridge of her nose, and stopped just under her opposite eye.
Two smaller scars intersected vertically across the larger scar over her cheekbone. Her eyes with
blood orange irises with yellow lines twisting throughout stared Asa down as blood spurted from
the wound.

What the fuck.

That’s what she got for being morbidly curious. Asa gagged, turned on her heel, and ran.

The Future Devil waited for her with crossed arms.

“Did you get lost?”

“...Yes,” Asa offered meekly. She regretted looking down that hall.

“Did you look down the other hall?”

“...Yes.”

Asa waited for the devil’s reprimand.

“Wasn’t it exciting?! That, my dear, is a deliciously gruesome death! What a shame! Exchanging
such a flamboyant way to go with the boring dullness that your new future may hold. What a pity.
Come, we must continue on.”

Its response surprised her, but she had no time to think deeply on the matter before they
approached the first door in the corridor. It was made of beautiful wrought ironwork. The Future
Devil stopped in front of it and put its hands on its nonexistent hips.

“...Not it. Onto the next one.”

And so it went for twenty doors. The Future Devil made sure to bemoan how much it missed the
future between every door rejection. It wasn’t until they approached the twenty-first door that the
Future Devil let out a boisterous “Finally!”

The correct door was a poorly constructed apartment door with old water damaged newspapers and
junk mail haphazardly taped onto it. Repetitive use polished the knob to a brassy gold. Unobscured
by the papers, the peephole stuck out of the door like how the Future Devil’s eyeball gazed out of
its chest.

“For you, madame,” the Future Devil bowed grandly as it gestured widely at the door. “A past
awaits for your purview. The past is important, I suppose, but the future is best!”

Asa touched the doorknob and hesitated. Despite her need to think, she couldn’t summon a single
thought in the moment.

Oh well.

Asa opened the door. Through the crack, Asa saw flashing blue, orange, and red light illuminating
the interior of the room.

“D…don’t come in! Please!”

It was the voice of a panicking child, probably a young boy.

“M’father’s asleep. M’sorry if he convinced ya he could pay ya more than whatever cash ya got up
front. He’s got no more money for ya. We’re completely broke! Go away!”

A thought finally popped into her mind.

I don’t want to do this.

She was pretty sure she knew who this child was.

Asa looked back over her shoulder at the Future Devil. It defaulted to its crucifix position and
watched Asa intently with all seven unblinking eyes.

“Do I…?”

“Yes. Gotta do what’s necessary to reach the future.”

Asa’s stomach flipped.

I’m sorry.

Asa used her elbow to force the door wider and pressed up against it. Even though the child put his
entire weight against the door, Asa was stronger. In her final shove to get inside, she accidentally
knocked him to the floor. Beer, wine, and spirits bottles clinked about in piles, intermixed with
other trash. The kid scrambled backwards on his hands and heels as he tried to shield her from the
view of something laying on the ground covered in old newspapers. The air smelled foul.

“We’ve nothing ya could steal either! I dunno what ya could possibly want!”

The boy bared his teeth like a wild animal as Asa briefly shone the light in his face. Two
functioning honey brown eyes, pointed teeth with gaps, and uncombed dark blond hair. Filthy,
skinny, and dressed in ill fitting rags.
It was Denji. A Denji that she’d never met before.

Asa’s eyes flitted to the thing he was trying to shield from her view. The newspapers were stained
red at one end of the obvious body.

“What do ya want?” he snapped.

“Denji…”

“How…how’d ya know my name?”

His expression went from defense to surprise.

“I…I guess you could say that I’m…I’m from the future.”

The boy’s nose wrinkled in disbelief as his eyes darted about the room. He was looking for an
escape route.

“My name is Asa. Nothing else, just Asa.”

“Doesn’t answer my question. If ya…if ya from the future, how’d ya know me?”

He visibly tensed up as she tried to take another step closer. Asa took another step back instead to
give the child plenty of room.

“Um, it’s…it’s complicated. In the future, we will meet again when we’re sixteen. I’ll be a waitress
and you will be a…a customer at my restaurant. One day, we will begin talking about your dog.
He’s a cute pug named Pochita. We will hit it off. You will keep coming back to tell me more
stories and I’ll always be excited to hear them. Eventually, we will have a lot of fun watching
movies together and eating a lot of tasty food.”

“What kinda food?” Denji asked as Asa watched his body language relax just a bit.

“Udon, somen, biscuits and cheese, apples, and a lot of other stuff.”

“...If the future is so great, why’re ya here?”

“We will be on a train ride to a vacation in Kyoto when three devils attack the passenger car we’re
sitting in. They…they will kidnap me, take me away from you, and tell me that I need to know
something important about your past. They will say I can’t leave until I know.”

“I…I don’t think you should know.”

“Denji, in the future, is my…my very best friend. You can tell me the truth. I won’t judge you,
okay?”

“…If I tell ya, ya won’t tell the police or the gang about this?

“Not in a million years. Your secret will always be safe with me.”

Asa could see the familiar way that Denji thought through predicaments manifest in this younger
version of himself. He wore a gentle and almost hopeful expression.

“Okay...okay, fine. If…if I tell you everything that happened, will you continue being my best
friend in the future?”
Tears pricked at her eyes.

“Yes.”

“Cross ya heart and hope to die?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Asa could see the courage leave his frail body as he went to the thing covered in newspapers. He
looked back up to her with wide eyes.

“Promise?” he asked in a voice just above a whisper.

“Promise.”

He pulled away the darkest red newspaper. A tall powerful man with jaundiced skin and matching
dark blond hair and beard lay motionless on his back. A pool of blood encircled his head and the
crown of his head was indented in a mortally wounded manner. A bloodied whiskey bottle laid
next to his shoulder. Asa waded through the alcohol bottles to his side and caught a peek of the
man’s face.

The son was a spitting image of this unmoving man. His identity was not a mystery.

“Oh, Denji…is this your father?”

“Yep. It…it happened three hours ago. He was really drunk…he came at me…”

Asa pressed her fingers first against the man’s wrist and then against his neck.

“Is…is he really dead?”

She couldn’t say it aloud as she watched a fly land on the man’s lips and crawl into his mouth. Asa
nodded.

The shock broke in Denji face. Asa watched as his eyes welled with tears. Her instinctive reaction
was to comfort.

“It’s okay,” Asa murmured as she opened her arms to him. To her utmost surprise, the boy ran into
her offered embrace and hugged her tightly around the neck.

“I…I dunno what’s gonna happen to me now. M’scared…really scared. Really, really scared.”

His body trembled against hers. Asa rubbed small circles into his upper back.

“It wasn’t your fault. Someone was trying to hurt you, and you protected yourself. Anyone would
do that.”

The space around them flooded with light, as if the time switched from midnight to noon in a blink.
Asa felt the small boy start to become immaterial in her hands.

“Denji! Listen to me carefully. When we find each other in the future, we’re gonna have an
awesome time. You, me, and Pochita. I’m going to protect you and make you happy for the rest of
your life. I’m taking responsibility for all of that. Got it?”

“...’Kay. See…see you soon, I guess?” he hiccupped.

“Mhm. See you soon.”

Asa woke up with her hand against taffy-like red plastic and incredible pain between her navel and
her knees. Her skin felt chapped from snow exposure. Asa kept her eyes closed to listen to the
conversation around her.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” exclaimed a deep voice as Asa came back to reality with Denji’s hair
between her fingers. “You really can’t turn back without her, can you?”

“Not yet,” Denji croaked. He sounded hurt.

The pillow under her head felt like a cardboard box of biscuits more than something stuffed with
downy goose feathers. The mattress underneath her was stiff. The blanket across her lower half
was itchy.

“He’s useless,” exclaimed another somewhat familiar voice. It was the rude pretty boy Devil
Hunter that she hated. “Could cut out his organs and transplant them into someone more worthy
like the Soviets do.”

“No. We’ll find a use for him as he is now.”

Asa abruptly sat up as her heart leapt into her throat. Her entire lower half spasmed in agony.

“No, you won’t,” she growled. “He’s mine. He’s going nowhere without me.”

Her eyes went to Denji. They’d stripped him down to his underwear. Cuts and scrapes were
scattered across his body. His entire throat was reddish-purple in color—an early bruise. She
noticed his left arm. It was severed at the elbow. Blood dripped down his side.

Asa saw red.

“What did you do?” she snapped.

Her abrupt transition from asleep to awake didn’t seem to phase either of the Devil Hunters.

“Yoshida, take the kid to the other room. Miss Mitaka and I have some important matters to discuss
alone,” the old man said.

Denji grabbed her hand with his remaining one. “Asa—!”

Asa held it tightly back. “Whatever you do, don’t hurt or kill him. Please!”

“Roger that,” the old man said. “Yoshida?”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear the girl?”

“…Very well.”

They were gone before Asa had time to process the last two minutes. The old man pulled up a chair
to her bedside and sat down. She hastily surveyed her surroundings. Judging by the old quilts on
the bed and the smell of cheap perfume and cigars from the unwashed curtains, they were in some
sort of shitty motel.
“Well, Miss Mitaka…you’ve every right to be mad at me, but I need your cooperation. Are you
calm enough to talk with me right now?”

“...I guess.”

“Good. Don’t move more than you already have. We got you on some good temporary pain
medication right now. You’re pretty injured, and ya don’t wanna make it worse.”

No shit.

Whatever painkillers they’d used weren’t doing squat.

“Ah—don’t look under the blanket. Before we do anything about that, I gotta get some information
from you.”

“Okay. Go ahead then,” Asa seethed in her nervousness.

The old man crossed his legs at the ankle, pushed up his sleeves, rested his hand on the back of his
chair. Asa noticed that he had fresh gauze wrapped around both wrists.

“…Seems like the boy you pulled outta the dumpster’s no longer fully human.”

“I…I know. He’s a fiend, right?”

“Incorrect.”

“Huh? He’s…he’s not?”

“Nope. Hybrid.”

“...Hybrid?” Asa breathed.

“Hybrid. Different category altogether. A human with devil organs. Usually it’s the heart, but
according to the kid, it sounds like he’s had a lot more of his old body replaced by the devil that
was grafted onto him. Maybe that explains the slightly less…human attributes he’s discovering
about himself.”

The man reached inside his coat and pulled out a flask.

“In other words, the human’s controlling the body, not the devil. If a devil was controlling the
body, then yes, he’d be a fiend.”

Shit.

She was completely wrong.

Asa’s eyes went to her bandaged hands. The bandages were ripped up as well as dirtied and
bloodied along the edges. Overcome by disgust, she had the sudden urge to change them out.

“Ruthless things, hybrids. Crazy, sterile, and immortal. They’re like tardigrades in that you could
launch them into space and they’d be fine with a little blood. Can’t kill ‘em even if I wanted to.”

“…Oh.”

Asa was only half-listening. Her mind was preoccupied what how she treated Denji tonight.
“Amazing regenerative abilities too. Puts axolotls and regular devils to shame.”

Guilt weighed heavy on her chest as she recalled everything she did and said. All of this was her
fault. She tripped and they got attacked by Devil Hunters. These two men would report all this to
Public Safety…the red-haired woman was bound to hear about Denji. Denji and her were fucked
whether they left or whether they stayed, weren’t they?

“And you did this?”

“Did what?”

“Made the boy into a hybrid. You’re the contract holder?” the man asked, breaking her completely
away from her thoughts.

It wouldn’t do her any good to lie to a Devil Hunter at this point.

“…Yes, I did. I did it to save his life.”

The man didn’t react. He stared at her with dead eyes before going for a drink off his flask.

“Devil contracts among civilians are highly illegal.”

“I know. I don’t care,” Asa countered. “I wanted him back, so I made the sacrifice. It’s that
simple.”

The man rubbed his hand over his left cheek’s stubble.

“I want you to answer these four questions. Honestly, mind you.”

“Go ahead.” Asa corrected her bad posture. She needed to look confident in a way she didn’t feel.
She had nothing to lose at this point from telling the whole truth to this man.

“One, what would you think if you had comrades die?”

“With the exception of Denji, I’d…I’d feel horrible, but life goes on.”

“Two, would you want to get revenge on the enemy?”

Asa thought about this one carefully. Revenge would be nice, but Asa liked living too much to
desire such a thing.

“If someone else wanted to get revenge, I’d probably support the idea, but I wouldn’t lift a finger
to help them. I’d run away and hide instead.”

“Three, do you consider yourself an ally of humans or devils?”

Asa opened her mouth to say “humans,” but stopped. Pochita was a devil. She had liked and trusted
him as best she could, hadn’t she? In her albeit short interaction with the Future Devil, she found
that he wasn’t that scary either. He’d told her nothing but the truth. In certain contexts, she realized
that she might be able to trust such a creature. Asa carefully considered her words before
answering.

“I’ll side with whoever I like better.”

“Hm. Last question. You love this boy? Your ‘Denji?’”

 Asa couldn’t let this man see the inner turmoil that this question caused.

…Asa. It’s no use to stay in denial. You’re in too deep already. Stop lying to yourself.

“Yes. I love him. I love him a lot.”

The man laughed. Asa flushed red but kept her mouth shut.

“You’ve only known him for what, a little more than two weeks? Are you sure?”

“As my mom said, ‘when you know, you know.’ Yes, I am a hundred percent sure.”

“Hmm…not a perfect score, but I’ll take it,” the man grunted. He stashed away his flask, leaned
forward, and extended his hand to hers for a handshake. “Miss Mitaka, the name’s Kishibe. You
and your hybrid are gonna be under my care and command until I’m dead.”

Chapter End Notes

One of my pet headcanons is that Tsugihagi (the Frankenstein-looking fiend from

Quanxi’s harem) has some power over time. Thus, she’s the Past Devil in this story.
We may never know in canon, but damn am I intrigued.
 Chapter 19
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! I had a good cackle when Asa suggested an in-house
movie night in the manga chapter today. I hope Nayuta is kind to her next week!

A shorter chapter this week, but I hope you enjoy it!

A bit of a warning: there’s a consensual, non-graphic, and non-intimate(-ish?) blood

drinking scene in this chapter. If you want to avoid it, stop after “‘Whatever you say,’”
and resume at “When Denji finally sat back…”

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

As hot pain shot up from her affected leg and side, Kishibe instructed Asa to disclose every piece
of pertinent personal information about herself that she could recall in her current state. Those
emotionless brown eyes bored right through her skin as she tried to recall her aunt’s birthday. They
were just as bad as the deadened stare of the younger Devil Hunter.

“Do you need anything else?” Asa asked when the questions ran dry. The old man sat there in his
ratty chair, eyes intent on his now empty flask.

“No.”

The man fumbled through his coat jacket and pulled out an amber pill bottle with his free hand.

“Take two of these before you rest,” he commanded as he shook the bottle and the pills rattled
inside. “We’ll resume our conversation tomorrow morning.”

“These pills aren’t poison?”

“Would’ve killed you back there in the snow if we wanted you dead,” Kishibe deadpanned as he
stashed away the flask into his coat.

Asa hated to admit it, but he had a point. She stubbornly kept her mouth shut.

“Good night, Miss Mitaka. We’ll let ya know what we plan to do with you tomorrow morning.”

The man set the bottle on the nightstand. He stood, strode across the motel room, and stopped with
his hand on the knob.

“I’ll go retrieve your hybrid for you. Don’t move the blanket until he’s here. It’ll do you no good
to dwell on it while you can’t do anything.”

❦
Asa waited impatiently for the old man to make good on his words.

Please bring Denji back to me.

She tried not to think about how much her body hurt, how much she wanted to see what was wrong
with her, or how she wanted to take those pills now, even though she didn’t have any water at hand
to swallow them with.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the door cracked open. The pretty boy pushed Denji inside and
shut the door behind him. Denji stood there with a slumped and defeated posture and shredded
clothing as if he’d attempted to redress himself with what they tore off his body. He was too weak
looking to even look at her. His hair was stained with dried blood. The bruise already darkened his
throat to an almost black purple. The stump at his left elbow had stopped bleeding.

Despite everything, Asa’s entire chest spasmed with relief at the sight of him.

How…how do I start this conversation?

Asa wanted to do nothing more than wrap him up in her arms, press kisses all over his face, and tell
him that everything would be okay. She wished it was that easy to apologize properly.

“...Denji?”

“Yep. Not Pochita,” Denji answered as he looked at his feet. “Pochita’s in my guts but Denji’s
brain’s still running shit as far as it can tell.”

“I…know. Wanna come lay down?” Asa asked, patting the bed next to her.

“I’m…I’m dirty.”

“I’m dirty too,” Asa retorted.

“Well, I’m dirtier. Don’t want to get the bed gross.”

“We can pull off the duvet I’m sitting on and sleep under the sheets after we shower. No big deal.”

“Ya can’t stand though.”

“Apparently getting attacked by two devils makes it so one gets a wee bit injured. However! ‘Tis
but a scratch! Just a flesh wound!’”

Asa saw how Denji flinched at her lame attempt at humor to lighten the mood and cringed inside.
Somehow the emotional guilt was worse than the pain in her side.

“Those are lines from a British comedy movie. It’s called Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It was
one of my dad’s favorites.”

“...Ah.”

“We’ll have to watch it sometime soon.”

Denji’s neutral expression nearly broke as his eyes darted away from her face. He saw the pill
bottle on the nightstand.

“What’re those?”
“Painkillers, allegedly.”

He cocked his head to the side, waited a moment, and shrugged.

“If ya say so. Ya need water for ‘em?” he asked.

“Um, yeah, that’d be nice.” Asa responded as she reached for the cylindrical white pills. After
some indecision, she decided to take one just in case Kishibe was trying to pull one over on her.
She might survive one if it was something bad.

“Lemme geddit.”

Denji disappeared into the bathroom and emerged with a squat glass of water in his hand. He
reluctantly crawled onto the empty side of the bed and held out the glass of water for her to take.

“Do ya need more help?” he asked as she threw back a pill, sipped on some water, and swallowed
the medication.

“Nah,” Asa said after she took a second drink.

“Need anything from the suitcase or your bookbag?”

“We didn’t lose them?”

“Made the Devil Hunters’ devils retrieve them for us. They’re in the closet.”

“Oh, well, that’s a relief. Thank you.”

“‘Course.”

“So you don’t need anything?”

“Nope. I’m good.”

“You sure? You don’t look good,” Denji retorted with concern.

“You’re not looking too good either. We’re both not looking good right now.”

“…You’re right. I’m…I’m really low on blood. A bit woozy.”

“Come on. Not feeling good is all the more reason to lay down,” Asa insisted as she patted the bed
next to her.

Denji did as asked, flopping down prone on the bed next to her. Asa leaned back and rested her
interwoven hands on her upper stomach.

“We’re both tired, but we should talk for a bit.”

“Talk ‘bout what?”

“Um…”

She trailed off as Denji rested his head to the side, looked into her face, and then down at the
blanket covering her midsection. It was a new sensation, being examined with two working
reddish-brown eyes, but she knew she could get used to it quickly. His bottom lip had a prominent
scrape. Asa resisted the urge to reach out, touch his injured lip, and then hold his hand. She slipped
her closest hand underneath her unaffected thigh and tightened it into a fist.

“Look, I’m—”

“—sorry.”

They said the phrase simultaneously.

“Go first,” Asa added quickly, putting on a brave face as a rush of prickling pain ran through her
bad leg.

“No, you,” Denji responded at the same time as he focused his gaze on her face. “You first.”

They stared at each other in contested silence. Asa broke first.

“I’m sorry for everything,” Asa began as she fiddled about with the scratchy blanket covering
herself. “I said…and did…a lot of unforgivable things tonight. I’m…I’m especially sorry that I
didn’t believe you about who you are. Kishibe—the old man—told me about them. Hybrids. It
makes sense.” Asa’s fingers ran through her hastily bobbed hair. It was weird, having so little
weight on her head. “I’m so happy that you’re still you. With what I knew before, I was scared that
you were Pochita trying to make me feel at ease. If that was the case, I think I would’ve come to
terms with it, but still. Pochita in your body isn’t the same as Denji. Right?”

“I…don’t know. Like, since I woke up, everything’s been different. Coming back from the dead,
looking not like myself before, having these sudden urges that weren’t there before to do weird shit
with no good explanation, you thinking I’m a carcass piloted by my dog, and then learning that I’m
not human anymore, you know? It’s been…it’s been a really hard couple of days.”

Denji paused and gritted his teeth.

“I’m…scared that I’m not the Denji ya like anymore. Like this? My arm? Hurt, but not worse than
if I cut myself too deeply with a sharp knife. I feel like it should’ve hurt as badly as…you know,
before, but it doesn’t.”

“…Kishibe said that you could grow it back.”

“The young guy—Yoshida?—said the same thing. Gotta drink blood though to do it.”

“Any type of blood?”

“Human blood is best, according to that guy. Seems like my teeth finally suit me. Might as well be
a vampire at this point too.”

Denji’s face cracked briefly as he pressed his face into the bed cover. Despite everything, his hair
was still adorably curly near his hair whorl—the result of moisture and sweat. Something about
that detail made Asa’s throat thicken.

“Asa…I just don’t know if I like my new body.” His voice broke as he said it. “I thought I might at
first, but I don’t think I’m completely in control anymore. Like right now I might be in control, but
when I fall asleep tonight? I dunno yet. Shit’s really scary.”

Asa’s self control failed as Denji sneaked a glance at her. Right eye or no right eye, it didn’t matter.
Even when he was covered in blood, scrapes, and bruises, Denji had no right to be as cute as he
was. She couldn't resist him. Kind, honest, tough, and hardworking.
Denji loves me. Love. Who’d have thought someone as kind as him would love me?

In that moment, Asa didn’t care that they were sixteen and newly in love, or that she was
impossibly exhausted and considerably injured, or that Denji was missing a limb that he allegedly
could regenerate like a starfish.

Her hand went to his hair. She traced one prominent curl with a fingertip and then wound it around
her pointer finger. With an almost inaudible whimper as she played with his hair, Denji leaned into
her touch as she rested her open palm against his cheek and gently brought her thumb pad against
his lip’s scrape. The action pinned her hand between his head and the mattress.

“Asa?” Denji wore an expression that was one quarter nervous, one quarter surprised, one quarter
skeptical, and one quarter hopeful.

“Hm?”

“‘M sorry too. I’m sorry I scared ya. I’m sorry I ate that bird in front of ya. I’m sorry about the
train escape…you know, if I’d just like—picked ya up and carried ya after we got outta the train,
ya wouldn’t be hurt by those devils. I didn’t know what was gonna happen, but still…it’s my
fault.”

Ah, it was back. Asa’s heady and borderline reckless need to protect and care for this sweet-faced
boy.

“It’s not your fault,” Asa managed to say in a gentle tone, “not your fault at all. I’m the one who
tripped in the snow!”

“Doesn’t matter. If we’d stayed on the train, maybe we’d be in Kyoto instead of in a shitty motel in
the middle of nowhere.”

“On the other hand, if that creature on the tracks was one of the devils who attacked us, there was
also a good chance that dozens of people would've died if we didn’t leave, right?”

“...Yes. You’re right.”

“No, you were right. You did what your gut told you to do to protect me and to protect yourself.
You were smart and correct about the whole situation.”

“I dunno…I dunno ‘bout that,” Denji responded sullenly. “If I got lucky and was right for once, I
doubt I’ll be lucky again. I always bring shit luck to stuff. Been that way since I was a toddler.”

Denji…

“Denji, I need you to know something. Sometime between passing out during the attack and
waking up in this motel room, I had a dream. A devil that called itself the Future Devil was there.
Ironically, it showed me a fragment from the past.”

Denji’s eyebrows narrowed.

“From your past,” Asa specified.

“Huh?”

“The memory was in an apartment filled with flashing lights and empty alcohol containers. You…
looked like you were about twelve.”
Denji went as pale as printer paper. He sat up abruptly and tried to put himself out of reach. Asa
reacted accordingly, hastily shifting to her knees to grab at his intact arm. She managed to catch his
wrist. The blanket fell off and Asa felt a distinct warm wetness slosh and slip down her side,
soaking into the fabric of her pants. No wonder Kishibe didn’t want her poking at it. Despite the
time passed, the blood hadn’t clotted yet. Could an octopus-like devil have an anticoagulant
substance in their bite?

“The devil told me it visited me as a favor for Pochita. I don’t know if a single bit of it is true, but
if it was…”

“...Were there newspapers and a whiskey bottle?”

“Yes…?”

“I…I see.”

“All I wanted to say is that if any of that was actually true, I'd have done the exact same thing if I
was in your shoes.”

“It’s a nice thing to hear, but that doesn’t…justify what happened,” he said, barely loud enough for
her to hear.

The familiar rage flared up in Asa’s chest.

“When you were twelve years old, you should’ve been going to school and making friends. I…I
don’t know what that man did to you, but I know he took that normal reality away from you.
That’s unforgivable.”

Denji stopped trying to halfheartedly jerk his arm away.

“You’re smart, strong, and kind. I don’t know what subject your twelve-year-old-self would’ve
been drawn to, but I know you would’ve fit in easily with both the nerds and the sporty kids.
Maybe we would have trained in kendo together. What I do know is that my twelve-year-old-self in
all her pimply glory would have had a crush on your twelve-year-old-self. She would’ve wondered
what it would be like to kiss you on the way to school each morning and then on the way home
each afternoon. Your name would be doodled repeatedly in the margins of her notebooks when she
should be focusing in math class. I…I guarantee it.”

Asa tightened her grasp on his wrist for fear he might stop listening.

“As your sixteen-year-old-self stands before me, my sixteen-soon-to-be-seventeen year-old-self

wants him to know that he deserves nothing more than to feel completely loved, safe, respected,
and valued. That he’s worth it.”

Denji swallowed loudly and repeatedly without looking back.

Asa wanted to dig a hole into the motel room’s vinyl wood flooring, burrow into it, and die of
embarrassment.

Persevere, Asa. Persevere.

“Denji deserves good food, daily bunny kisses and real kisses, plenty of cuddling, pleasant enough
conversation, a warm bed that’ll always be there for him, and whatever else that makes him happy
from now on. If he…he’ll let her stick around, she wants to be that person to make sure all that
happens. If she were to live her life again already, she'd find him sooner.”
She loves him.

The phrase sat on the tip of her tongue. She tried to spit it out, but it stuck there stubbornly.

“I…he’s afraid gonna hurt her again.”

“He might unintentionally, but she’s tough. She’ll forgive him.”

“What if he has to work as a Devil Hunter?”

“Then she’ll aspire to be his buddy. Lots of regular people work as Devil Hunters. She’ll work out
more and get a few good devil contracts if they’re needed.”

I love him.

“She trusts him with her life.”

I love you.

Asa’s heart beat furiously as the protective feeling flared. She wanted to scream the phrase from
the rooftops.

“Fuck,” he finally got out.

Denji turned around. Asa didn’t drop her hand from his wrist until he positioned himself kneeling
at her feet. Saliva dripped from the corners of his mouth as he dug his fingernails into his thighs.

“Fuck. You want this?” he said, gesturing to his mouth and injured body. He tore his eyes away
from her bloodied side and looked deeply into hers. Concentrated internal turmoil and pain stood
out in his expression.

“Yep.” As she spoke, Asa felt the blood continue to drip into the fabric stuck to the wound.

“…Why?”

“Because…because you’re not Pochita or anyone else. Because you’re Denji, the person I fell in
love with.”

“Lo—?

“Yep. I know I said I’d wait, but…”

Her cheeks burned.

“I lo—“

“Don’t! Not yet,” Denji begged. “Do it when I’m not feeling like this. I wanna be clean and feel
good before you tell me anything like that.”

“Got it. Whatever you say.”

Asa wiped away the drool from the corners of his mouth. A terrible idea came over her as she
looked down upon her injuries, the pain of which was greatly muted by the painkillers. Three thick
needles emerged almost horizontally from her thigh, easily piercing through the pant cloth. As she
pulled away her shirt, she found that a perfect tennis ball-sized circle was cleanly punched into her
side. It looked like an octopus bite straight out of the medical textbook filled with hospital and
autopsy photos of injuries that she used to check out of the local library, except much bigger. From
Asa’s minimally educated examination, it didn’t seem to have gone deeper than her skin’s dermis
layer to her deep relief. Asa remembered the sensation of a devil’s tongue on her hand and the
resulting pink line across her palm.

“If you need my blood right now, you can have it.”

“I…I don’t.” Denji backed away on the bed hastily as he began to drool even more. He wiped her
mouth on the back of his now bare arm.

“…I think you do.”

“I’m not a vampire.”

“You are missing an arm though, and that requires blood. Plus, I’d be surprised if the motel had a
med kit with a clean roll of gauze or a sterile needle and some suture thread for me to attend to all
‘this’ myself. You’re my best bet.”

“My mouth’s gross.”

“My body’s gross too. So what?”

The two stared at each other in contested silence.

“Denji, you know those impossibly healed scars that you used to have?”

“…‘Course.”

“Know who did that?”

The obvious answer hung in the air. Pochita.

“…Yep.”

“After all that’s happened, I think you might be able to do it too.”

“Maybe, but…what if I drink too much?”

“You won’t. I’ll let you know if I start feeling shittier than I already do.”

“You…ya sure you will?”

It was a risk, but it was one Asa was willing to take.

“Mhm. I trust you. Think of it as…as an experiment for the sake of science.”

“…’Kay.”

He started on the needles first, pulling each one out before he helped Asa strip down to her
underwear. When he built up enough courage, he pressed his mouth to her thigh and tentatively
licked and sucked. Asa encouraged him along with head rubs and words of praise. He stopped
every other minute to ask how she felt.

The answer was always the same.

“I’m fine. You’re doing a really good job.”

Asa watched as Denji’s confidence, hunger, or perhaps both, grew bit by bit. With incredible
willpower, he worked at the spots until all three small holes closed up entirely and left only faint
pink needle tracks in their wake.

As he wordlessly began to attend to her side, Asa’s attempt at being calm failed. His nose and
mouth brushed against the skin too many times. The cumulative sensation was too much.

Asa laughed aloud for the first time since June of last year. Noisy goose honks intermixed with
witch cackles. All of these noises tried to pass as peals of laughter.

The noise stilled Denji in his tracks.

“Asa…?”

His look of alarm with a smudge of blood across his chin made her try to tamp down her laughter.

“Aaah…! Sorry, my stomach, s—sides, and ar—arm—armpits are super ticklish,” Asa got out as
she tried not to snap her bent knees closed against his body and push him away. “Keep going.”

“Ya…ya sure?”

“Very sure.”

Asa sunk her fingers back into his hair as he pressed his mouth back against her bare skin. She kept
laughing until her cried-out eyes burned from the inability to produce tears.

“…Done. How’re ya feeling?”

“Not bad.”

When Denji finally sat back in his heels, Asa examined his handiwork. Their crazy experiment
worked. New pale pink skin covered the wound. It was slightly taught and puckered, giving the
healing scar a crude rounded star shape within the circular boundary.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore,” Asa announced as she looked up into Denj’s face, “and you made it
look kinda pretty. You did such a perfect job.”

Denji was crying quietly as he pressed the heel of his hand to his closed right eye.

“Denji?”

Concern overshadowed every other emotion.

“You okay?”

He nodded furiously before responding.

“Fuck, ya making me cry.”

“Happy crying or sad crying?”

“Very happy crying. M’glad I didn’t hurt ya. M’glad I didn’t drink too much, cause your blood
tastes ‘mazing. It’s like…white sugar, honey, strawberry jam, and what I think chocolate might
taste like mixed together. I wanted more of it…but’m glad I could stop myself. Glad the
experiment worked. M’glad I did a good job too. Glad…glad you’re proud of me.”
Asa pulled Denji to her. He flopped against her chest with no resistance.

“Shit, Asa, you’ve turned me into a crybaby. Ya tell me sweet things and and I’m just over here
with snot comin’ outta m’nose. Ah, ‘sweet’ isn’t a strong enough word, but I jus’ don’t have the
words for it now. I…I wanna sleep. Dun even have the energy to shower now.”

With a deep breath, Asa realized that she was in the same boat.

“Me neither.”

Denji rolled off of her and turned onto his side.

“Hold me?” he asked quietly.

“Sure.”

He was too tall for Asa to comfortably slot her knee between his thighs now without her forehead
being pressed to the center of his upper back. She threw her leg over his hip so she could tuck her
chin over his shoulder instead. They were both absolutely disgusting, but luckily the general
“gross” smell of sweat and blood was mutual. Asa put on a brave face. Showers could wait until
the morning.

“Goodnight, Denji.”

Asa kissed the side of his bruised neck.

“G’night, Asa.”

“Mitaka…Denji?” Asa read from the passport that sat on top of the pile of papers that Kishibe
handed to them the next morning.

There was her surname’s pronouciation, as clear as day, next to a photograph of Denji’s new face.

“You’re the one with the contract to the hybrid’s devil. If he’s gonna protect you per your
contract’s terms, you're gonna need a legal excuse to stick together.”

“But…but as siblings?”

Kisibe remained expressionless.

“Denji’s not gonna be your brother. You’re both eighteen years old now and eloping.”

Asa checked both Denji’s and her new passports. Sure enough, their birth years had been pushed
back from 1982 to 1979.

“Eloping?” Denji murmured into Asa’s ear. His freshly regenerated hand held tightly onto hers as
if these two Devil Hunters occupying the room with them were going to rip her away from him and
carry her far away.

“Married and escap—” Asa whispered before the weighty realization hit her.

“—Wait—” Denji interjected.

“—Married?!” Asa directed at Kishibe in a much louder voice.

 “Married,” Kisibe confirmed. Kisibe reached into his suit and pulled out a piece of paper folded
into quarters. He unfolded it, leaned over, and set the certificate of the acceptance of notification of
marriage on the coffee table.

Asa picked it up and looked at the certificate.

Mitaka Asa and Mitaka Denji.

Same pronunciation, but spelled completely differently. Asa referred to Denji’s new passport yet
again before looking at her new one. The same different spelling was replicated on every single
document.

“It’s legitimate. Properly sealed and everything. No one’s gonna question it.”

Chapter End Notes

Their names are written in different kanji on their new documents, I suppose! Let me
reiterate that I know next to no Japanese. :)
 Chapter 20
Chapter Notes

Hello!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! I wish we had a chapter today, but we shall survive
until next week.

We officially have one more chapter until the end of this story! Thank you for sticking
with me. After that, there will be three epilogue chapters for you to enjoy.

There's a scene of intimacy in this chapter. If you want to skip it, stop after "he gazed
at her adoringly," and resume at "Ready for tomorrow?”

Also! One of this fic's longtime readers, ElectroSeaSpectre, has begun a CSM fic
partially based on Stray Dog. It is more or less an alternative universe story that
diverges after Chapter 19 in Stray Dog. Check it out under the "Works inspired by this
one" section. :D

Best,
Lady

It had been nearly two days since Denji came back to life when Kishibe gave them the unexpected
news. Before then, after Denji attended to Asa’s wounds, they slept nearly ten hours before they
awoke at five in the evening.

When they woke, Denji nearly cried when he discovered he didn’t take a bite out of Asa in his
slumber. His bruises, cuts, and scrapes were gone. His arm was completely regenerated, much to
his delight, fear, and fascination. Like the bite marks on his bottom lip the day before, all of the
skin below his elbow was freshly pink.

After finding a grocery bag full of convenience store microwavable meals and that they had been
locked inside their hotel from the outside, Asa and Denji spent a few waking hours showering and
eating. Asa redressed the cuts in her arms with toilet paper. They said little to each other and
communicated almost exclusively in small touches. By eight o’clock in the evening, a freshly
washed but still exhausted Asa stripped off the bed’s duvet cover and burrowed into the
comparatively clean and fresh-smelling sheets. Whatever detergent they’d been washed in had a
comforting smell.

Baby powder, maybe?

Asa pulled the sheets up to her chin and waited as she listened to the running water from Denji’s
second shower of the day. When he emerged, he had tucked the towel tightly under his armpits.
She turned her head, cheek pressed to the itchy pillow, and watched him dry off. He noticed her
observing.

“Hey,” Asa began. Her throat was sore from overuse.

“Hi,” Denji returned.

When Asa recalled how elusive Denji was before she brought him to her apartment, it made her
happy to see how comfortable he was around her now. There was something lovely about his
strong desire for her touch and presence, to the point where Asa wondered if he would prefer to be
naked rather than not if asked.

“Wanna know something?” Asa tried her best to say it in a lighthearted and cheeky manner.

“What?”

“C’mere.”

Denji went to her bedside. Asa sat up to push his damp hair away from his forehead, ignoring the
slight wince of pain from her healing side. Denji looked so much better than he did in the wee
morning hours, even though his eye bags were bigger and darker than they normally were. His
tanned skin had an unmistakable glow. Asa couldn’t help but smile widely.

“What?” he asked as he smiled back.

“You’re so pretty.”

Denji made an over the top noise of disbelief as he lightly bit his lower lip.

“It’s true!”

“Whatever you say.” His smile became even wider with more nose wrinkles.

Perhaps if they had more energy, she’d get a more dramatic reaction, but she was satisfied for now
by the quiet amusement dancing across his expression.

“Come to bed,” Asa requested, patting the mattress beside her.

“I need—”

“It doesn’t matter—unless you’re cold.”

"I'm not cold."

"Come on in, then."

Denji’s delight couldn’t be concealed as he pulled off the towel and threw it over the end of the
bed. With barely toweled hair, Denji gathered her into his arms. With his bare solid chest pressed
against her back, Asa fell soundly asleep.

The young Devil Hunter named Yoshida unceremoniously busted into their room just before noon
the next morning to tell them that Kishibe expected their audience in an hour.

“I’ll escort you over.”

Asa now sat there in an uncushioned motel desk chair that kinda hurt her butt. Their marriage
certificate laid there in her lap. Her new passport was in one hand and Denji’s hand was in her
other.
“Don’t…don’t I need witnesses to sign this certificate?” she stuttered.

“Your coworkers signed. Furuno and Madoka,” Kisibe said nonchalantly.

“…What?” Asa said dumbly.

Sure enough, both their names were appropriately written on the document in black ink.

“Both are retired Public Safety Devil Hunters. They owed me a favor. I collected. That’s all you
need to know.”

Asa’s jaw dropped open. She knew very little about her coworkers’ personal lives, but that? She
never would’ve guessed such a crazy notion. Before she could try and pry more information out of
Kishibe, the old man interrupted her thoughts.

“Did they give you a manilla envelope, Miss Mitaka?”

Asa gave Denji a questioning look and he nodded affirmatively.

“Uh, yes?”

“Great. That’s your nest egg. Don’t lose it, because I won’t replace it.”

Nest egg to what?

“Mr. Kishibe, I can’t just elope— ”

“If we cover your tracks, why not? Be honest.”

Asa paused as she set the certificate and passport back on the coffee table. She probably could
elope, couldn’t she? She lived on the margins of society already, as much as she hated to admit it.
If Madoka and Furuno already knew that she was safe, no one would really miss her if she
disappeared. Even her aunt didn’t care to check up on her often. If she could be reassured that her
niece was safe, Asa could vanish completely like a ghost in the night.

“I could, I suppose, but I gotta know why. Can…can you get to what you want to tell us? What’s
the catch with this entire situation?”

Asa’s poor nerves couldn’t take more of this Devil Hunter tap-dancing around the facts.

Kishibe pulled out his flask—Really, drinking at one in the afternoon? Not cool, Asa thought
frustratedly —and unscrewed the cap.

“Had a long brainstorming session about this entire thing yesterday evening. Met with two Devil
Hunters who are subordinate to the individual who really wants your hybrid’s devil yesterday
morning. Somehow, word got around. They saw that Zombie Devil carnage—”

Asa felt Denji’s body flinch through their joined hands.

“—And now they know something’s amiss. As such, can’t hire you two as Devil Hunters under me
—too close to danger. Little Miss here isn’t gonna survive direct combat with a devil either. Not
implying it has something to do with your gender, mind you. The strongest person I’ve ever known
was a woman. After training as many Devil Hunters as I have, it’s just that I can just tell when
someone won’t stick around for long in a combat capacity.”

Kishibe had a point. Asa wasn’t gonna try and argue against it.
“Something in my gut told me that you also don't want your hybrid out fighting on the front lines
either as much as possible. Thinking further, I decided that I can’t bring you two back to Tokyo or
to Kyoto. Too many informed prying ears in those cities. Then finally, after two bottles of sake, it
clicked.”

Asa didn’t dare interrupt this man as he took a drink.

“It’ll be best that you and your hybrid are hidden away where no one would even care to look for
you two. With my current professional needs, your cover story materialized with considerable ease.
Here it is. You two are eloping newlyweds who just bought an rundown inn on the edge of Taira, a
rural mountainous village in the Toyama Prefecture. You got it for a steal, because it’s the third
biggest thatched roof house-style building in the community. Was built in the 1830s out of chestnut
and hemlock beams. Beautiful building. You two are gonna spend your nest egg refurbishing it and
reopening it for business.”

Denji’s hand squeezed hers even tighter as Asa’s mind raced.

“I have…I have to finish school, though,” Asa protested.

“No, you don’t. Saw your transcript. The hybrid bagged an academically smart girl. A damn near
miracle if you ask me. If all goes to plan, you’re taking your entrance exams next January to study
medicine at the nearby University of Toyama. Your hybrid will be running the inn mostly on his
own after you two set it up together.”

Asa’s stomach flipped at the concept. On top of the expectation to start an inn, she was expected to
go a full year with no schooling and be mandated to become a doctor? What did this man have in
his flask?

“What does Public Safety need with an inn?”

“When all is said and done, this inn will be a safehouse with residential facilities and you, a
medical professional, nearby. For the last time, that’s all you need to know.”

Kishibe stared at the two for a tortuously long span of time.

“Do I have your cooperation?”

Asa’s mind churned with the possibilities of deception and lies. What would happen if he was
lying? What would happen if they said no? She had no idea.

“Can we think about it for a few hours?” Asa asked.

“No. I need your answer now. Do I have your cooperation?” Kishibe asked again, unblinking.

Asa’s gaze went from Kishibe to the young Devil Hunter standing behind him. Yoshida gave a
shrug and a wry smile as he shoved his glossy black bangs out of his eyes. It took considerable
restraint to not grimace. Her sight then went to Denji.

It struck her then just how handsome Denji was now that he was healthy-looking. Strong hands,
defined jawline, and a serious neutral expression that made his sweet boyish smile all the better.
Unlike Yoshida, Denji’s entire being sparkled with energy and life. If Denji was a regular stranger,
he’d be a boy who wouldn’t have looked her way if he passed her in the street, but he wasn’t a
stranger. Not anymore. Now, he was her husband.

‘Husband.’ What a strange word to hear in reference to a sixteen-year-old boy.

“Denji?”

“Hm?”

Asa studied Denji as he reached over to hold her hand with both of his. His eyes were different, but
no less pretty than they had been before. Ruddy brown. The same color as the carved sandstone
facades in the ancient middle eastern archaeological site of Petra. A nerdy comparison, but pretty
accurate to her recollection of the pictures from that “wonders of the ancient world” book in the
school library.

“You get to make the final decision,” Asa said. She returned her eye contact to Kishibe and
brazenly rested her head against Denji’s shoulder.

Denji sat there for a moment in silence.

“...Yes. Asa and I agree to help you,” Denji said bravely. He looked to Asa for reassurance. She
gave him a confident nod.

Good job.

Kishibe ran his hand over his pomade-covered hair.

“Wise decision. You two leave for Taira before sunrise tomorrow morning.”

Madoka’s early birthday present to Asa was five hundred crisp ten thousand yen bills shoved into a
manilla envelope.

Asa gazed at the money neatly laid out in stacks of twenty on the motel room floor.

I can’t believe it.

It was more money than she, and probably Denji, had ever seen in their lives.

This is insane.

She picked up one piece of paper money and examined it closely. From her on-the-job training as a
waitress in the art of spotting counterfeit banknotes, there was nothing on these bills to indicate
they were fake. The correct characters, the raised printing, the watermark…they were all there.

Remarkable.

Though doubt still stirred at the base of her stomach about this entire situation, Asa couldn’t help
but feel a certain sense of excitement for what tomorrow may hold.

Five million yen and a new house. With careful budgeting, this…this is a chance for us to start a
life together. Crazy.

In her heart of hearts, it was all Asa ever wanted.

She turned around to see Denji reclined on the battered lounge by the tightly shuttered window. He
was dressed in her father’s pajamas that Asa designated for him. He hugged a rumpled ball of cloth
in his hands and stared up at a deep crack in the Artex-coated ceiling. Judging the color, it was
Asa’s discarded sleeping shirt from the night before.
“Denji?” Her voice sounded a bit better than the night before, but it still hurt to talk much louder
than a low whisper for an extended period of time.

“Hm?”

“What’s on your mind?” she asked.

Denji rolled onto his side and tossed the shirt into the temporary nearby pile of their dirty clothes.

“Hmmm…my brain’s hurting from thinking too much about one particular thing.”

“That’s the thing?”

“You—well, the thing with you being my wife now.”

“...Oh.”

The butterflies fluttering about in her stomach died in an instant.

“It’s just so sudden, I guess. Didn’t even have a ceremony or nothing. Just…thinking overall about
how much work all this is gonna be.”

Asa twiddled her thumbs. Denji was right. This whole scenario was sudden and unexpected. Lying
about one’s age to get a marriage license? Maybe it happened a hundred years ago, but no one did
that in the present day. Plus, Denji was married to her. He might be enamored now, but in a week?
A month? A year? She didn’t know.

“We don’t…we don’t have to rush things, especially when it comes to the romance stuff, if you
want that with me.”

Denji craned his head to look at Asa. His soft blond bangs fell into his eyes and he blew the strands
of hair away from his sight.

“Why do ya keep saying ‘if’?”

“We’re young. There might be someone else who catches your eye in the future,” Asa remarked,
shrugging as she tried to keep her tone light. “I don’t want to get in the way of that.”

What did I just say?

As she studied him more and more, it came to her. There was something about Denji’s physical
looks now that made her feel the smallest bit insecure about her future prospects of staying
permanently by his side. The realization made her feel shriveled, jealous, and ugly on the inside.

Denji furrowed his brows at her words.

“Fuck this other person in the future. I only care about being your husband. More…more than just
legally. I want to be it so fucking badly. Lemme be clear, I’m excited for all that work coming up.”

Something warmed a bit in Asa’s chest, pushing away that sudden bloom of insecurity. She stood
and went to sit on the recliner by him.

Denji hesitated before continuing to speak.

“I…I dreamt about it since the first night we met at the dumpsters. Holy shit…that’s embarrassing
to say out loud.”
Denji’s face flushed into that beautiful rose color. Asa stared in awe. She hadn’t seen his blush
since he came back to her.

“What?” Denji asked nervously when Asa didn’t respond.

“I didn’t know you could still blush like that.”

Asa wondered if it had something to do with replenished blood. She reached out and cradled his
ear, a touch that he leaned into with a sigh.

“What do ya mean?”

“You…you don’t know how pink you turn when you blush?”

“Kinda. Gangsters made fun of me for it a couple times. My…my father said doing it made me
look like a girl.”

Her protective urge was back.

“No one should ever mock you for it. It’s one of the first traits of yours I fell in love with.”

The admission made Denji’s blush turn more rosy. He covered his face with his hands.

Love. It was a word that she needed to get more comfortable using, especially if she got reactions
like that.

Be confident, Asa.

“Shit…when did you first see it?”

“The night I gave you the flowers, I think.”

“...Pink carnations.”

“Hm?”

“Carnations are your favorite flowers.”

“You remembered that?”

“It would take an idiot not to remember his first bouquet of flowers. Daisies, lilies, cosmos, and
carnations.”

Asa couldn’t help it. She reached over and pulled Denji’s hands away from his face, a motion
which he didn’t resist.

Asa leaned in slowly, giving him plenty of time to back away if he didn’t want her affection. Denji
didn’t move as he kept his eyes trained on her lips until she got too close.

“Can I…?” she asked quietly.

“Yes. Anytime you’d like,” was his hoarse response.

Asa closed the distance and kissed Denji gently. When she pulled back, Denji looked at her with a
bewildered expression and a deepening blush that was almost as red as hers normally was.

“Fuck,” Denji managed to get out as he sat up on the recliner and drew his legs to his chest. He
pressed his forehead to his knees, obscuring his face.

“What?”

“After you saw me like ‘this’ for the first time, I thought that maybe ya would never kiss me again.
I’m…I’m glad I was wrong.”

Asa’s throat thickened.

“I’m sorry…”

“No more apologies. Everything’s already forgiven.”

Denji gathered the courage to look over at his new wife and scoot closer until their shoulders were
pressed together side by side.

“…Asa?”

”Yes?”

“Do ya remember one of the first things you asked me?”

“I…I asked you about what you were going to do with the food scraps, didn’t I?”

“No, not that.”

Denji shifted his position and buried his face into her neck.

“Ya asked if I had a family name, and I never gave you an answer. Truth is, m’father never gave
me one. My mother had me at home, so they didn’t do any paperwork that comes with having a
baby. I’ve never had a birth certificate or piece of identification. I’m not listed on any family
registry. Japan doesn’t know I exist.”

Asa ran her fingers through his hair as he continued to speak.

“I’ve always wanted a family name. To feel like I belong somewhere. To be more than just
‘Denji.’ Then, today, I got one. Even better, it’s yours.”

“It’s a kind of ugly surname. I’ve never liked it.”

“Well, I love it," he grumbled good-naturedly as he tried to disguise the emotion in his voice.

“...If you like it, then I’ll happily keep it.”

Asa took his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, then his cheeks, and finally his lips.

“Right? Mr. Mitaka Denji?”

A myriad of different emotions flitted across his face as he gazed at her adoringly.

“Mhm…”

He's too cute.

Asa kissed him over and over again as her hands wandered about his body. Denji gave a gasping
moan as they found his hips, his sides, and then his chest under his shirt.
“Can I…?” Asa asked as her fingers hovered over his pectorals.

“Yes, but be really careful…”

“I will, I will,” Asa reassured Denji as she helped him pull his top off. His pretty flush reached his
ribs.

“Your nipples are the same color as your blush,” Asa observed with a chuckle as she drew her
fingers over the more sensitive one. The motion made him bolt and shiver.

“S’that a bad thing?”

“Not at all,” Asa said as she gave him a reassuring kiss. “It’s adorable.”

“Good. Do…” Denji hesitated, partly out of nervousness and partly because it looked like he was
having difficulty forming coherent thoughts. “Do yours look like mine? Pink, I mean.”

“Hah?”

“So—sorry, that was stupid…forget I asked…” Denji added hastily despite his scattered brain
processes.

Now that she thought about it, he’d never seen her without clothing, had he? That hardly seemed
fair.

“Wanna see my boobs?”

“Yeah, but you don't have to!”

“I’ve seen all of you. I’m happy to show you me, I guess. Just so you know what you’re getting
into, you know?”

Asa stood and undressed quickly in an unsexy manner. She left her night clothing piled on the
floor.

Denji pulled off his pants and boxers in naked solidarity.

“Ta-dah. Here’s what I look like,” Asa announced, turning around twice to give him a good general
view before she sat back down on the recliner.

His eyes didn't leave her chest.

“Wow," he managed to get out as he admired her, "they're perfect."

“...Want to touch them?” Asa asked, gesturing to her chest. Hers might be smaller than Denji’s
own, she humored herself in a self-teasing manner.

Asa could’ve just asked him if he wanted a billion yen without strings attached. He couldn’t have
looked any happier.

“I…I can?”

“Sure.” Asa said as she felt her face flush with pride and nerves.

That same expression of devotion and affection hadn’t changed at all as he reverently passed his
hands over her chest. It wasn’t as sensitive as his by a long shot, but being touched by him was
tolerable and maybe even pleasurable enough.

I’ve known him for less than a month.

It was barely any time at all, yet Asa felt like she’d known Denji for years at this point. She trusted
him not to overstep any boundaries. He was being a complete gentleman to her in the moment too,
but something was off that wasn’t his fault. Asa realized right then and there that this kind of
intimacy was intimidating. She clammed up as his hand brushed the middle of her outer thigh as he
shifted to get closer to her.

Denji immediately noticed her discomfort and removed his hands.

“…Asa?”

“Give…give me one second.”

One of Denji’s hands tentatively went to her shoulder. He began to rub reassuring circles over her
skin.

“Ya look tense. Gimme a piece of your mind?” Denji asked before he kissed her temple.

Asa felt foolish, sitting around butt naked and about as aroused as she’d ever been in her entire life,
but still not being ready to even have her chest touched for an extended period of time.

“I…I don’t think I’m ready for all of this yet,” Asa got out as her confidence dwindled and she
crossed her legs. “I want to—really—but not yet.”

She steeled herself for disappointment, for that look of hope to be extinguished from his eyes like
when she wasn’t ready to kiss him for the first time.

Will he love me less if I’m not ready to have sex soon? The idea made her anxious.

Denji’s happy and content expression didn’t change. He smoothed back her sweaty bangs and
tenderly kissed the center of her forehead.

“That’s okay. Wanna cuddle on the bed instead?” Denji asked.

His response surprised her.

“You…you don’t mind that, you know…”

“Not having sex, touching boobs, and stuff? Not at all, why?”

“It’s just…”

Asa hated how much of her information about relationships came from fiction. There, the young
lovers she always found in books and movies were always itching to get into each other’s pants.
Asa hadn’t thought about the notion much, but now she wondered if she was weird for not
yearning for that immediate satisfaction. Instead of thinking “I want that,” Asa always mentally
derided the lovebirds for not thinking about pregnancy or sexually transmitted diseases before they
started humping. She liked fast-forwarding through the movie or flipping through the pages in her
book until the sex scene was over. She now felt like a bad person for not wanting that kind of
physical gratification. For not having a selfish desire to be fulfilled in that way.

Conversely, she really liked making Denji feel good. Was she a freakish voyeur for wanting to give
Denji pleasure, but not really desiring such a feeling for herself? Asa didn’t have an answer for
that.

Ugh, this is all too confusing, she thought in frustration at all these contradictory ideas.

“...You don’t have to give me a reason. I want you to be comfortable, that’s all,” Denji said as he
went in for another peck on her lips. Ah, this was one thing that she really liked. Kissing him. Asa
ran her fingers through his hair and grabbed it lightly at the roots, just hard enough to elicit a gasp
from Denji and turn the peck into a solid kiss. When they broke apart, Denji grinned widely and
kissed her cheek.

“So, figuring out all of ‘this’ can take as long as we need it to," he continued. "Right now, the fact
that you want me by your side like this makes me happier than I thought I was capable of feeling.
Like, holy shit, I’m married to Mitaka Asa. I thought that she would never feel the way about me
that I felt about her, but apparently I was wrong. Not only that, but I got her last name and the
opportunity to live in a cool old house with her in the middle of the mountains? If you told me that
a month ago, I would’ve thought you were on drugs or some shit.”

Denji pressed another kiss to her earlobe as Asa couldn’t help but feel the corners of her lips turn
up at his confession.

“On my end, I think I also gotta figure out some stuff too before I’m ready,” he whispered.

“Like, what ‘stuff’?”

“Um, for example, I learned after we were caught that my arms and legs can turn into chainsaws.”

“What?” Asa was suddenly fascinated by this medically improbable fact as they switched over
from the recliner to the bed.

“Not kidding. The thing is, I have no idea how to make them appear and disappear right now. I
need to figure that out.”

Denji smiled hesitantly as he grabbed her hand. His hand shook slightly as he ran his thumb back
and forth against her palm.

“I also wanna make sure my non-bony parts can’t also turn into chainsaws, ya know?”

“Like your dick?” The notion was so ridiculous that Asa couldn’t help but have a real smile on her
face.

“Like my dick.”

“I doubt your dick can turn into a chainsaw.”

“We don’t know for sure, though. I got ya hurt once. I don't want to hurt you ever again, ‘specially
when ya should feel good.”

“You’re right.”

“I know,” Denji said smugly as he pulled her into his embrace, taking care to touch her lovingly
but noninvasively.

To her utmost surprise, completely naked cuddling was really nice. Though the sexy stuff might be
off the table for a while, she definitely liked this kind of intimacy. Asa stifled a yawn.

“Ready for tomorrow?” Asa asked as Denji relaxed around her and began to doze.
“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he mumbled back.
 Chapter 21
Chapter Notes

Hello, dear reader!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! Welcome to the last chapter of Stray Dog. It has been
quite the journey (especially with the commitment to publish every Tuesday on my
end), but I am so happy that you stumbled across my story and read it all the way
through. Your comments, kudos, and general feedback definitely helped me sustain
my enthusiasm to tell it!

Next week will be the first of three epilogues pertaining to this story! Hope to see you
then.

Best,
Lady

Asa woke up before Denji the next morning, partly thanks to the alarm she set and partly because
of how cold the motel room was. Gooseflesh pebbled up on her skin. Unlike her, Denji yanked the
sheets almost entirely off of him except for where they covered his left leg.

You naked weirdo, Asa thought affectionately as she reached over and pushed his bangs out of his
face in a manner that she could tell was going to become a habit.

Asa fumbled to turn off the 3:00AM alarm on the motel clock before throwing her legs over the
edge of the bed. She’d slept in a bed whenever she visited her grandmother as a child, but it had
been at least eight years since she’d done so. Asa didn’t like how high they were off the floor.
With how clumsy she could be in the morning if she wasn’t careful, Asa knew that she would fall
on her face more often than she cared to admit.

Asa stretched until her back satisfyingly popped before standing. The wooden floor below was
cold on the soles of her feet. She grabbed her innermost layer of clothing for the day and dressed
herself before jogging to the bathroom on her tiptoes. The tiles in there were even colder.

Ew, ew, ew.

Asa cleaned her teeth and put a hairbrush through her tangled hair at lightning speed before
bounding back towards the bed and hopping back in.

She fucked up and landed on her left arm in just the right manner to feel one of the barely healed
larger cuts split back open. She gave a little cry of pain and went to put pressure on it as she felt wet
warmth trickle through one of the makeshift toilet paper dressings she wrapped over both arms.

The noise woke Denji in less than a second.

“Asa—”

“I’m okay,” Asa said through gritted teeth. It was a vertical cut on her inner lower arm, closer to
her wrist than to her elbow.
“No, you aren’t.”

“Okay, you got me.”

Denji offered his hand and Asa placed her arm in it. As he stripped away the bandage, he located
the bleeding site.

“It’s not that big,” Denji said as he hesitantly let go of her arm. “...Want me to, you know?”

Asa pinched the skin around the cut and watched a bead of blood dribble down her arm towards
her hands.

“Yes.” Asa stuck her arm out again expectantly.

Denji swallowed the saliva in his mouth.

“Let…let me brush my teeth first.”

“Alright.”

Denji ran to haphazardly brush his teeth while Asa pressed old toilet paper down on the injury.
When Denji returned, he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for her to give him her arm.

When Asa did, Denji’s tongue gathered the dripping blood with one long swipe of his tongue
before he pressed his mouth to the cut and sucked firmly.

“Pffffft,” Asa got out. Even if it wasn’t in an overly ticklish spot, it was still a funny sensation.
Denji rolled his eyes in a playful imitation of her own bad habit as he worked her forearm.

Asa had trouble looking away from his eyelashes. Had they grown longer? She couldn’t tell. She
was always attracted to him, but he’d become stupidly handsome seemingly overnight, almost to
the point where her usual shyness around hot dudes threatened to emerge when she spoke to him.

Perhaps on account of the wound’s size or perhaps on account of his growing confidence, but it
took less than two minutes for Denji to remove his mouth and examine his handiwork.

“There. Done.”

Sure enough, the reopened cut was healed, slightly raised, and freshly pink.

“Thank you,” Asa breathed as she rubbed away Denji’s spit with the unbloodied discarded toilet
paper.

“I think it’s gonna scar,” Denji admitted, drawing his legs up to his chest. He reached over and
tentatively pulled up her shirt just far enough up to look at her side. The color faded already and all
that was left was a nice, round, and shiny hypertrophic scar in the injury’s place. “I’m scared that
everytime I heal you, I’m gonna leave ya with a scar.”

Asa unwrapped the toilet paper on her other lower arm to examine the current damage. Both arms
were covered in cuts of shallow to medium depths at various stages of healing.

Oh well.

“Some will disappear completely, some might scar for a while and fade over time, and a couple
might be big and bumpy until I die. It’s a lot like decisions one makes as they grow up, kinda?”
“I guess?”

“A couple scars is a small price to pay to have you back. I'm not too worried about them. Besides,
they build character. If little kids up in the mountains ask me how I got them, I’ll tell them I got
into a sword fight with my sworn enemy, a black grizzly bear.” Asa pantomimed stabbing her
mythical foe with an imaginary steak knife.

Denji grinned in relief as he got on his hands and knees, stretched like a cat, and then collapsed
down on the bed with his knees pulled up underneath him, his arms extended before him, and his
forehead resting on the mattress.

“Asa, I think you would’ve made the better hybrid between the two of us.”

“You think?”

“Yeah.” While still in the same general position, Denji turned his head to look at her. “You’re
smarter and have all those skills with a sword.”

“Hm…maybe I could do an okay job, but I think Pochita ultimately made the right decision.”

Asa carefully leaned over, pulled his arm away, and kissed Denji softly. She admired his gentle
expression as he cradled her jaw in his hand and they pulled away. His skin on hers was softer than
it had ever been, despite the harsh water they’d been using. Almost velvety. He smelled better than
he’d ever smelled too—still his natural scent, but somehow stronger and more attractive.

A pale pink tinged his face and ears as he swallowed loudly and looked at her with a not yet drunk
—perhaps only tipsy? expression. That look hadn’t changed in the slightest.

Wow.

Denji had no idea just how obsessed she was with him. He had her completely wrapped around his
finger. Asa had a creeping feeling that that fact wasn’t going to change anytime soon.

No fair, she thought affectionately as she ran her thumb across his smooth and unchapped bottom
lip. Denji smiled at the gesture.

“Denji?”

His wide grin lessened into a contented expression as he continued to examine her face with heavy
eyelids.

“Hm?”

“Are you finished packing?”

His eyes widened and his eyebrows rose abruptly.

“…Not yet! Five more minutes, please.”

Asa and Denji packed away the last of their essentials they had out, dressed as warmly as they
could, and waited for one of the Devil Hunters to unlock their door. Denji stood in front of Asa,
ready to pull his cord and unleash fury. Asa begrudgingly accepted his protection and spent the
precious spare minutes looking over her rudimentary starter budget that she’d scrawled on a piece
of motel parchment. Denji was unexpectedly helpful in the mental math department the night
before in putting together a list of estimated living costs. He was equally as quick as she was when
it came to simple calculations.

“When ya constantly worrying about a debt, you tend to grow pretty good at stuff like this,” he
said as he dictated his approximate poverty-level living costs. Even though he probably could
survive on next to no food, Asa would never in a million years let Denji eat like before he came
into her hands. Never again would she allow him to subsist on bleached flour, water, white sugar,
and stale bread.

“Asa?”

“Yes?” Asa responded as she furiously added an extra five thousand yen into their monthly food
budget.

“Do ya think I could have some money for something? Like, a one time thing? ”

“How much?”

“I dunno—ten or eleven thousand, maybe? It’s something…that I feel like is kinda important for
me to do, ya’know. If not for you, then for me.”

“What is it?”

Denji looked at her with a vividly rose pink blush and a shy but eager expression.

“A surprise for you. Hopefully a good one, I promise.”

Dammit, Denji, Asa thought affectionately as she tallied in ten thousand yen on a new line into
their budget. You’ve turned me into a pushover.

Instead of Kishibe and Yoshida, two middle-aged men were there to greet them. One was a strong
fatherly man with a scarred face. The other was a tall and comparatively thin man with a buzz cut.
Both were dressed in crisp Public Safety Devil Hunter outfits.

Asa’s heart felt like it was going to burst at the sight of familiar faces.

“Madok—!”

Her coworker shook his head, silencing her.

Asa gripped the edge of her coat in embarrassment. She would’ve grabbed the strap of her
backpack, but Denji insisted on carrying all the luggage including that. The only two things that
she refused to let go of were their new and her old identification documents and their five million
yen, all of which she either hugged to her chest or stuck in her inside coat pockets which luckily
hadn’t been damaged by the Octopus Devil. There was one perfectly round hole punched in the
jacket by the devil’s beak, but after careful analysis, Asa decided that it was patchable. Sewing
would be a necessary trait if she was going to survive in the rural and often snowy country.

“Hello, Mitaka Asa and Mitaka Denji. On behalf of our boss, we have been assigned the duty of
escorting you two to the village of Taira. You may address me as Madoka, and my buddy as
Furuno.”

Asa and Denji had been trapped in a motel on the outskirts of the city of Kaga in the Ishikawa
Prefecture. Asa knew little about the city beside it being the birthplace of Kutani ware, a particular
type of porcelain painted in five distinct colors. Her grandmother was a casual collector of the
stuff. She preferred the deep emerald green glazes over all the other colors, a stylistic choice which
young Asa agreed with.

Being comparatively middle of nowhere when compared to Tokyo, there was next to no observable
light pollution on the hour and fifteen minute trip. The first few rays of sunlight peeked out from
beyond the horizon as Denji helped Furuno load the car, a boxy silver Daihatsu Pyzar with
squeaky brakes. Despite this, the galactic center of the Milky Way stood out in stark contrast to the
gradually lightening sky for the first fifteen minutes of the ride. To Asa, the hazy band of light
looked like a ragged wound ripped into the vividly starry night sky’s flesh.

Denji peered out the backseat window behind the passenger side seat where Furuno sat, entranced
by the astronomical phenomenon.

“Wow…I’ve never seen anything like this before,” Denji remarked with awe apparent in his voice.
“What is it?”

“Um…I think that’s the center of the Milky Way, which is the galaxy closest to our own galaxy—
the one that Earth belongs to.”

“What’s the center of the Milky Way?”

“A black hole, I think?”

“Eh? What’s that?”

Asa hesitated. She didn’t know much about astronomy, so she was pulling from after school
educational specials she watched that she watched in middle school.

“It’s like a gigantic hole that travels through space sucking up everything it sees, including light. If
a human fell into one, their body would stretch like a ramen noodle. That’s all I remember for
sure.”

“Huh. Weird.”

“Super weird. There’s a lot of stuff out there in the world that doesn’t make a lotta sense.”

“Yoshida said I’m immortal now…I wonder if I can swim through space, find one, and turn into a
noodle after the planet explodes,” Denji mused as he pressed his cheek against the window.

A sense of melancholia settled on Asa’s mind. She had to make the next couple of decades count
for both of them. For her to leave him with tons of good memories when it came time.

“Have you ever been outside of Tokyo?”

“Never.”

Asa’s chest squeezed with tenderness for her bridegroom. She wasn’t surprised, given what she
knew about his upbringing.

Still.

Asa’s mother was often of the opinion that no one should spend their entire life in Tokyo or any
other big city, isolated from natural beauty. Couldn’t be healthy for a person’s mind, body and soul
(if such a thing existed). Asa agreed with that notion.

“C’mere,” Asa requested, patting her thigh.

Without a word, Denji flopped down in the opposite direction and rested his head against her
thighs. With his head in her hands, Asa felt that protective impulse climb into her chest and settle
above her heart.

They might be alright for now, but in the future? As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t plan for
that.

Asa, your only choice is to survive one day at a time. All you can do is try your best.

Denji closed his eyes, but the steady pulse in his neck didn’t slow down. Asa guessed he was
resting in a similar manner to how he’d been on the train. Alert and listening for things that she
couldn’t detect.

“Denji, I’ve made up my mind. When we retire, we’re gonna travel everywhere. All over Japan
first, and then all over the world.”

“Asa…wherever you wanna go, I’ll be right behind ya.”

The four of them stopped at a cluster of local shops before they began their ascent into the
mountains.

“Get out,” Madoka instructed, his fingers still wrapped around the steering wheel.

Asa’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Get out…?”

Denji sat up from his protective rest at the sound of her nervous repetition.

“Asa…?”

Furuno in the passenger seat turned around and looked skeptically over the rims of his sunglasses
at the two of them.

“Got to stock up the house before the next snowstorm hits. Charcoal, lighter fluid, wood, more
clothes, food, the works. You’re gonna have a miserable time if we don’t, because I know for a fact
that there’s not enough supplies in your new house. If the weather reports are correct, it’ll be over
two months before y’all can safely reach this general store on foot,” her former boss said.

“Oh…oh,” Asa got out, embarrassed. Denji visibly relaxed beside her.

Furuno and Madoka know much more than they are letting on, don’t they?

“Thought we were going to leave you by a random general store in the boonies? What kinda
escorts do you think we are?” Madoka joked in his usual relaxed “line cook”-like manner. His
familiar tone disarmed her in a way she thought wasn’t possible.

“It’s not that. I…I was expecting Kishibe to escort us.”

“Nah. Old man’s Captain of Public Safety’s Special Division 1 in Kyoto. He has much more
important fish to fry right now. Surprised he spent the amount of time on you two as it is. Though
we’re semi-retired, we volunteered for this particular mission when we heard your alternative
escort was Yoshida Hirofumi.”
“Ugh,” Furuno grunted as he applied some lotion to his hands before opening the driver side car
door.

“Should we not trust him?” Asa asked Madoka.

“Not that…we just feel like he seems a bit off. Be careful around him, perhaps. Understood?”

“Yes!” the Mitakas said in unison.

While Asa spent most of the time in the general store's dry goods section carefully tallying up the
amount of rice, dried seaweed, and other nonperishables that they’d need until early April, Denji
bounced between shops.

“Asa?”

Asa jumped as Denji’s voice broke her concentration.

“Can I have that ten thousand yen now?” he asked excitedly.

“For…for your mystery project?”

“Yes.”

“...Only if you’re sure.”

“I couldn’t be any surer.”

When Asa produced the crisp banknote from her inside coat pocket, Denji pulled it from her
fingers with an impatient enthusiasm.

“Thank you, my love.”

Denji kissed her cheek in front of six elderly customers before bounding off to who knows where.

Asa didn’t stop blushing after she checked out and left to go inspect outerwear at the nearby thrift
store.

“Asa, here’s the change,” Denji said as he handed her back two ten yen coins.

”Oh, thanks.”

While Denji did get everything else on their list with the help of their escorts, there were two
overstuffed brown paper grocery bags that he wouldn’t let her see the contents of. He wedged them
between his thighs before resting his head again on Asa’s lap and closing his eyes.

After a few minutes, the prolonged silence got to Asa. She had things to say and questions to ask,
and this could be her last time ever seeing these two men.

“Madoka?”

Madoka looked through the rearview mirror at Asa in the backseat.

“Yes, Mitaka?”
“I’m sorry I didn’t return your flashlight. It’s in my suitcase if you want—”

“—Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

Asa ran her fingers again and again through Denji’s hair as she gathered the courage to ask the
main question resting heavy on her heart.

“May I ask why you two are helping us?”

Madoka took his eyes off the road just long enough to make brief and unreadable eye contact with
Furuno.

“For me?” Madoka began. “I don’t have kids, I like you, and I want you to succeed even if the odds
are bad. You need money to better your odds, so we wanted to help in that manner. It’s basically
the same for you, right, Furuno?”

“Correct. Remember that sometimes you don’t need explanations, Mitaka. Take what you’re given
and make the best of it,” Furuno added.

Asa didn’t like those answers. Too wishy-washy for her tastes.

“How about Kishibe? If he’s such an important man in Public Safety, why is he allowing us to live
in relative peace?”

The two men were silent for a moment. Madoka’s eyes focused firmly on the road as Furuno
reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a carton of cigarettes. He manually cranked down the
window just a crack, pulled out a cigarette, and lit the end with a click of his lighter.

“I don’t know for sure, Mitaka, but here’s what I think,” Furuno began as he ran his hand over his
cropped hair. “Let me start by saying that I’m not that much younger than Kishibe.”

“You’re…you’re not?”

That was a revelation on her part.

“I’m not,” Furuno laughed. “The differences are that I take better care of my skin and that I still
dye my hair black.”

“...I see.”

“Anyhow, I joined about five years after he did.”

“Why’d you join?” she asked.

“Why? Well…hate to say that my intentions weren’t noble. I was sick of being in the service
industry and needed some quick cash to pay for my divorce proceedings. Well, back to Kishibe.
We had a lot in common then, being in the same division, sharing one of the same devils for our
contracts, and whatnot.”

Furuno took a drag of his cigarette and blew the smoke out the window.

“There was one major difference, though. I had three buddies over the span of eight years before I
got paired with Madoka here. Kishibe didn’t. As a rookie, Kishibe got paired with a veteran Devil
Hunter—a tall woman named Quanxi. They were a match made in heaven—both sword-using,
hardly ethical, barely emotive, and unnecessarily ruthless. He stuck by her side from day one until
the day she left Public Safety and joined the Chinese military. Twenty-two years in total. Hence his
nickname, ‘Mad Dog.’ Crazy, but just as loyal as a well-trained dog could be.”

“Except he didn’t stick by her because she was a good work partner. He stuck by her because he
was in love with her, though she didn’t reciprocate his feelings one bit,” Madoka butted in.

“Yes, it was an open secret in the Division. Mad Dog Kishibe, the most ruthless human Devil
Hunter alive, was in love with his buddy who just so happened to also be the crossbow hybrid.
Do…do we know why he liked her so much?” Furuno asked.

“Who knows, because I certainly don’t,” Madoka continued. “Maybe it was because of her looks,
or maybe it was because she was the only one in his life who didn’t die or leave him…until she did
just that.”

“That woman gave him so many black eyes…do you think that man’s a masochist?” Furuno
wondered out loud.

“Man would be whatever Quanxi asked him to be.”

“Probably still would,” Furuno laughed.

“Furuno, back on topic,” Madoka cautioned, nodding with his head at their passengers.

“Sorry, sorry. To answer your question, Mitaka, I think Kishibe sees himself and Quanxi in you
and your hybrid. Where he failed with her, you two may succeed. The man likes to project a
pragmatically ruthless facade, but I think he’s secretly a sentimentalist. My guess is that his
emotions got somewhat in the way of his professional duties concerning you two and he grew too
invested. There’re probably some selfish workplace political reasons too, but I think that’s the
main reason he’s allowed you two to live.”

The last stretch of the drive was steep and treacherous, but the cranky silver car made it to Denji
and Asa’s new home.

Their new home was an intimidating residential building at the top of a mountain. It was less
rundown than Kishibe described it to be. Ancient trees—oversized oaks and maples with thick,
knobby trunks— hung their bare skeletal branches over the steep thatched roof.

Inside, a huge common area with raised tatami flooring and a large central hearth was the crown
jewel of the future inn. Attached personal quarters laid to the west. A maze of small rooms
partitioned by sliding doors—future guest rooms—laid to the east.

By the starry gaze in his eyes, Asa could tell that Denji fell in love with the residence at first sight.

After Madoka and Furuno helped them carry everything into the common area and said their
formal goodbyes, Asa hurried after the two men before they could drive off.

“Wait!” she yelled.

She ran in front of their car before they could shift it from park to drive and stopped, blocking their
path in the road.

With their attention directed towards her, Asa held her arms by her side and bowed as low as she
could. She was never instructed in the art of elegantly bowing as a child, so she probably looked
stuffy and unpracticed.
“Thank you!” Asa cried out. “Your kindness will never be forgotten.”

Madoka gave two short honks, a sort of “okay, okay, get out of the way” energy.

Asa swore she saw them both smile at her through the driver side window before they began their
descent down the mountain.

The first two days in their new home were pleasant enough. Asa swept out and dusted the rooms as
Denji scrambled about the place, organizing their newly bought possessions and taking inventory
of needed future repairs. His two mysterious brown paper grocery bags disappeared into some
obscure corner of their new home, though Asa didn’t try to snoop. Denji disappeared for a while on
the second day to go ask neighbors some logistical questions about tools, maintenance, and other
related matters.

On the third day, an unexpected snow storm struck in the wee hours of the morning.

“Welcome to Taira, Asa!” Denji joked as he locked them inside their new home. “What a beautiful
day.”

Asa tried to stay in good humor, but she was miserable at this low temperature.

After they managed to shutter and coldproof the building as best they could, Denji and Asa pulled
their new futon to the common room and onto the raised platform, set up a roaring fire in the
hearth, dressed in nearly all of their new and old warm clothing, and did nothing else but snuggle
under the covers and wait out the storm. Asa tried to sit up and patch her coat sitting in the futon at
one point, but found out that she hugely preferred to hold Denji instead with such howling wind
outside. She was gladdened by Denji’s newfound ability to be consistently as warm as a hot water
bottle.

On the fourth day, Denji knelt by the futon to wake Asa up from her slumber.

“‘Morning, sleepyhead.”

“Mhhhmn…Denji…what time is it?”

“Sometime after ten, but I don’t know that for sure. All I want you to know is that the snow’s
stopped.”

Asa sat up on the futon, drawing the covers closer around her shoulders.

“It’s a little warmer outside. Not like spring ‘warm,’ but it’s a lot nicer than the past three days
have been. Might be a good day for you to get some sun.”

Asa did feel like she needed some Vitamin D.

“I also wanted to let you know that I made friends with the elderly couple who lives down the hill
from us two days ago. I stopped by to ask the husband about how to install new thatch. All of the
sudden, the wife offered me to come inside and have tea! We got to talking about how they ended
up in Taira—they’ve been here for thirty years!”

“They have?”
“Yeah. They showed me black and white newlywed photos of them standing in front of their
current house. Crazy.”

“That’s neat.”

“They told me they’d like to meet you. The wife has some winter vegetables that she’d like to give
you as a welcoming present. A daikon radish, a few burdock roots, two lotus roots, and a head of
Chinese cabbage. There might be some yuzu fruits as well if she gets around to picking the tree in
the backyard. She’s holding them for you to pick up.”

“…Friends already?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Shouldn’t we be…you know, a little bit more careful?”

Denji cocked his head in that devilish way and thought for a quick second.

“If we’re gonna be living here for the foreseeable future, we should probably have some friends,
don’t ya think?”

“What if they were lying?”

“If they were lying, they did a pretty bad job of it. The wife pulled out an entire picture book and
everything. Apparently one of their daughter’s a Devil Hunter in Kyoto. Plus, nothing in my…my
senses felt off. I think they are perfectly nice, normal humans.”

Asa gave Denji a nervous look.

“Just…trust me, okay?” Denji reassured her. “Go visit them today while I get some roof patching
done here. You’ll have fun.”

Asa’s thrifted bright red coat protected her from the blustery morning air as she made her way
down the mostly shoveled path down the mountain thanks to Denji.

An old woman waited for her outside the nearest house. It was smaller than Denji and hers, but it
looked immaculate from the outside.

“Yoohoo! Mitaka Asa? Come in, come in,” the woman proclaimed in a way that caught Asa off
guard. Her cheery face was framed by a fur-lined hood.

Asa hesitated in front of their home. Fear came to the forefront of her mind.

Could these people be dangerous?

She stood still in their doorway.

“What are you waiting for? Come in! We may be old, but we aren’t ornery and unfriendly—at
least, I hope we aren’t. Seriously, you’re going to catch a cold in an unlined coat like that. My
name is Tendo Nene. My husband’s out back chopping firewood, but if you stick around for a little
while I’m sure he’ll be inside soon. Would…would you like some tea?”

Nene found a weak spot. Asa would never turn down tea.
“What,” Asa paused to clear her throat, “what kinds do you have?”

“Just about any kind you want! I just got some lovely gyokuro variety green tea from my sister.
Would you like to try it with me?”

“Uh, yes. Yes, please!”

Mr. and Mrs. Tendo turned out to be lovely and talkative people, to Asa’s utmost surprise. While
Nene was a tall and matured beauty, Mr. Tendo was a short and squat man with a receding hairline
and a kind face. They went together like salt and pepper.

The couple didn’t pry into Asa or Denji’s past or circumstances, taking their cover story at face
value. Instead, they talked about their children over steaming handleless cups of green tea
sweetened with honey. They had two adult daughters, Michiko and Misa. Michiko, their oldest,
was a rising star Devil Hunter in Kishibe’s division. Nene eagerly showed Asa pictures of her
daughter. Based on their daughter’s senior year volleyball pictures, Michiko was a spitting image
of her mother.

“She’s never told us what her devil contract is, for obvious reasons, but I remember when she first
received it. She came home for New Year's with this huge scar on her face,” Nene said as she
demonstrated the placement of her daughter’s scar with her finger. “My husband started crying.”

“That I did,” Mr. Tendo chuckled sadly. “She’s still beautiful, but that devil she’s contracted with
should burn in hell for damaging her face in such a reckless manner.”

Their youngest by three years was Misa. A chemistry teacher by trade, she was newly engaged to
Michiko’s buddy, a guy named Kurose Yutaro.

“Michiko brought Yutaro to meet us soon after they became buddies. Introduced him to us as her
‘work husband.’ Boy had the exact same scar as Michiko, so we think they might have a contract
with the exact same devil. Our Misa took one look at him…the connection they made was instant.
We could feel it from all away across the room.”

While her fiance was off killing devils, Misa lived in an apartment together on the outskirts of
Tokyo with their two dogs.

The couple didn’t have any pictures of the boyfriend, but they showed Asa a recent photo of Misa
being tackled with kisses by her canine companions. She wasn’t a beauty like her older sister, but
bespectacled Misa had a kind and likable face like her father.

“He’s short—”

“—No shorter than you, dear—”

“—and not the brightest, but Yutaro loves my daughter. I’m just afraid Misa’s going to get her
heart broken if he dies unexpectedly.”

“The one good thing about marrying a Devil Hunter is that the bereavement compensation is a
considerable amount of money. Hopefully it’ll be enough to get her back on her feet if something
happens.”

The three of them talked for a little while longer. They touched briefly on Asa’s hopes and dreams
for the future. Both of them were quite impressed with her aspirations to become a doctor. When
the cast iron teapot went cold and the friendly conversational topics went dry, Nene checked her
analog watch.
“It might be time for you to get going before it gets dark,” she announced.

“You…you might be right.” Asa cringed internally as she stood abruptly and went to gather her red
coat and snow boots. She hated prolonging her stay past her hosts’ comfort level.

“We would love for you two to stop by again sometime very soon! Let me be clear: we’re not
trying to kick you out early! Only saying you should go because Denji told me that he wanted you
home around this time. Something about an early dinner for the two of you.”

“Oh? he didn’t tell me about such a thing.”

“Denji didn’t tell you? Well, there might be more than a dinner waiting for you. All I know is that
we’re your distraction while he gets your surprise ready,” Nene said with a grand smile and a
wink.

Asa hurried back to their home as fresh snow began to fall around her.

She knew that Denji and she couldn’t be constantly attached at the hip as they went about their day-
to-day lives, but the muffling snow unnerved her just enough to worry about if something
happened to him in her absence. When she reached their front yard, the rising plume of smoke from
their traditional sunken hearth calmed her down considerably.

When Asa opened the sliding door, an unexpected scene awaited her in the main room.

Denji had decorated the sparse common area with both fake and wilted real flowers, retrieved from
who knows where. From the smell of it, a fragrant pot of beef and potato soup bubbled over the
hearth’s happily flickering fire whilst hanging from the hearth hook designed with an antique fish-
shaped counterbalance. A small but carefully arranged display of globular green Shine Muscat
grapes, Hokuto apples, and ripe yuzu fruits sat on the antique chabudai table. Denji kneeled in the
expected customary manner behind the table.

Is this the stuff he had in his paper bags?

“Welcome home, Mrs. Mitaka,” he said in a warm and well-practiced manner.

Is this his surprise?

Denji wore a faded yet handsome traditional black bridegroom wedding kimono that was
obviously meant for an unusually much taller man. His loose trousers dragged along the ground as
he stood to greet her by the door as she closed it. His feet were bare. Her mother’s quilt hung about
his shoulders.

Asa loved every bit of the effort he’d put into whatever this was. She could tell how hard he
worked already. He must’ve been so excited when he found that outfit at the thrift store for a
reasonable price.

Denji must’ve noticed her cheery smile, for he blushed brilliantly and grinned back bashfully,
flashing his cute pointed teeth as he did so.

“We’ve kinda gone out of order for all of this, but,” Denji paused to push back his sleeves and
fumble through his robes to retrieve two small and unknown objects, “I want to ask you for
something very important. For something that goes beyond all, um, formalities. For something
real.”
“Yes, Mr. Mitaka?”

Denji’s smile grew even wider.

“I…I’ve been trying to come up with a speech or something since we got here, but nothing sounds
good at all. So, I’m gonna keep it simple. You’re amazing. You deserve everything under the sun,
but I don’t have the means to get it all for you. I…I don’t have much to offer you at all, really. I
hope that me, as I am, will…ah, yes—‘suffice.’”

Keeping in mind the length of his outfit, Denji carefully went down onto one knee and produced
two simple and unadorned silver rings in the palm of his hand. With his palm outstretched, he held
him up for Asa to see.

“So, I wanna know. Mitaka Asa, will you marry me?”

Asa bit her upper lip as the tears gathered in her eyes. She set Mrs. Tendo’s gifts on the ground and
gathered Denji into her arms, hugging him with all her might. He hugged her back just as tightly.

“Yes. A million times, yes.”

 Epilogue 1
Chapter Notes

Hello, dear readers!

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday, but sadly without a new chapter! Here is the first
epilogue of Stray Dog, set in 2006. I do wonder what Yoshida and the Octopus Devil’s
true personalities will be revealed as in canon. Can’t wait!

Best,
Lady

“So…let me get this straight.”

“Hm?” the old man grunted in a questioning manner from the passenger’s seat. Kishibe carefully
held the opaque plastic cake carrier, taking great care to not jostle his homemade fluffy yellow
shortcake covered in white frosting and decorated with fresh strawberries. “Well? Go ahead.”

“The reason you’ve taken off time around March 15 for the past nine years is because you go to
Taira to celebrate the chainsaw hybrid’s birthday every year?” Yoshida asked bluntly. His fingers
tapped against the steering wheel as he made a right turn.

“Yep.”

Yoshida kept his typical placid smile plastered on his face. Very rarely did he let it slip—even at
home when he was alone, hours could pass and he’d forget to stop emoting.

“And why do you do this?”

Yoshida thought he’d gained enough of Denji’s and Asa’s confidence to know this piece of
apparently classified information concerning Kishibe’s whereabouts. He’d spent dozens of hours at
their home over the years, monitoring them, the thatched roof home, and the two little devils they
kept as daughters. “Uncle Hiro,” the girls called him. Alas, apparently he hadn’t, so he had to ask
directly from the source.

“‘Cause I’m legally Denji’s father.”

Against all of his years of training, Yoshida unconsciously gripped the steering wheel harder.

“You’re what?”

The shock was clear in Yoshida’s voice, something he never let happen except in rare
circumstances such as this.

“The head of intelligence at the time wouldn’t let me create his documents without some shred of
fiction that could be perceived as truth by prying eyes. I’ve left behind enough women to perhaps
have a son or three. You were with me when I got their identification documentation, if you don’t
remember.”
“I didn’t inspect them, though.”

“You never asked,” Kishibe retorted, adjusting his sweater. “Damn, I forgot how itchy this wool
is.”

They were both dressed in business casual rather than in their suits. Kishibe looked bizarre without
his long work coat.

The old man paused to extend his bad leg as far as it could go with the foot room that this rental
car allowed for. He’d had his right knee in a brace for two years now. Kishibe could outrun devils,
but he couldn’t outrun his rapidly aging body riddled with alcoholism and old injuries. His Pyrrhic
victory against Makima three years ago was the reason he stepped down from Head Captain of
Division 1. Now, his worsening health made him consider imminent retirement from devil hunting
altogether.

“Why don’t I know that you claim to be the chainsaw hybrid’s father as the new Head of Division
1?”

“Because I'm still your senior. As part of my seniority, I can keep the details of my little projects to
myself, given they aren’t getting in the way of the higher-ups. Quit calling Mitaka Denji ‘the
chainsaw hybrid’ behind his back, Yoshida. We have too many hybrids to keep track of these days.
It’s easiest and quickest if you use his birth name.”

“Denji, then,” Yoshida begrudgingly corrected himself. He felt his close lipped smile grow wider
—the only external indication that he was growing frustrated. Kishibe noticed.

“Quit it with that creepy little smile like you smashed a cockroach or some shit.”

Yoshida, obedient as he was, relaxed his expression. He glanced at his former boss through the
corner of his eye. The old man stopped trying to dye his hair that unflattering sandy brown in the
past six months. It quickly reverted to a greying white.

“Let me be honest with you for a second, Yoshida. Thank you for coming with me this year. This
trip gets harder as you get older. I thought last year would be my last time coming to see them, but
with Asa finishing her residency this year, Yoru—”

Yoshida’s fingers tapped even faster against the wheel.

Kishibe, calling the young War Devil by the name the innkeeper and doctor gave her? Never, in all
the years they’d worked side by side, had Yoshida seen the old man refer to a devil so
affectionately.

Insane.

“—graduating from elementary school, Nayuta—”

He calls the Control Devil by her given name too?

“ —starting kindergarten, and Denji finally getting his high school diploma in the spring, I felt like
I needed to get up there to congratulate them one last time.”

“You’ve turned sentimental in your old age, old man.”

“For a good reason. We are alike, you and I. Excellent in our profession, but solitary men.”
“Kishibe—”

“—Yoshida, I’ve known you for nearly a decade now.”

Kishibe’s fingers twitched like he was going for his flask, but he resisted the urge to pull it out of
his casual wear coat. “Not once have you mentioned a wife, a girlfriend, a partner, siblings,
cousins, or even friends outside of work. In fact, you’ve barely changed since I first met you nearly
a decade ago now, no scars or anything. Only thing that’s different is the fact you’ve finally cut
your bangs.”

True.

Kishibe hated how Yoshida’s bangs covered his eyes as a teenager and frequently commented on
them in those days. To make the old man happy, Yoshida cut his hair short the day after his
twenty-first birthday and had kept it the same length ever since.

“I know you have a mother who is still living, but she’s not gonna be around for too much longer.
You might think you’re fine now, but as you will become able to do less and less by yourself,
you’ll come to realize how human you are. We are social creatures—we survived as a species only
because we looked after each other at the end of the day. All I’m saying is that if you don’t start
making strong connections with humans now, you’re going to be lonely once you hit my age. Sure,
you might have plenty of acquaintances, but that won’t cut it. Believe me, it’s just about impossible
for old men without roots to find people to love.”

“I see.”

“And Yoshida?”

“Yes, sir?”

“The Octopus Devil doesn’t count as companionship.”

Very funny.

Through their psychic link, Yoshida heard his contracted devil laugh merrily.

The old man leaned back with a sigh, massaging his irreparably damaged wrist as he did so. If not
for the blood fiend acquired by Public Safety a couple years back, he would’ve lost that hand to the
katana sword hybrid, who at the time was under Makima’s control.

“I hope you can start coming up here annually in my place for Denji’s birthday, if you have the
time.”

Weariness was tangible in Kisibe’s speech. “The Mitakas are decent people your age, Yoshida.
They work hard and love harder, traits that people in Public Safety don’t have. If they’re willing to
open their home to the man who forcibly married them at sixteen, they’ll probably open their doors
to you too.”

Yoshida’s dark eyes kept focused on the road. He was surprised, really. Mag Dog Kishibe never
opened up to him like this. Hell, Yoshida had never heard Kishibe even talk this much outside of a
meeting. It was disarming.

They’re no longer ‘dogs’ and ‘toys’ to you now, eh, old man?

That’s what Yoshida wanted to say, but he settled for a more work-relevant question instead.
“If the missions to subdue Famine and Death are successful, is Denji going to eat them as he did
with the old War Devil and Makima?”

“Yep.”

“And we’re giving Asa and him their reincarnations to raise afterwards?”

“Yep.”

“It’s pretty brutal if you think about it too much.”

“It’s worked for War and Control, hasn’t it? They’re aging at about an appropriate rate, as far as I
can tell.”

Yoshida reverted to his placid smile. No use arguing with an old man on a matter like this.

“Don’t try to fix what it isn’t broken, Yoshida.”

A somewhat rundown-looking gas station covered with ivy appeared on their left as they climbed
into the valley right before the village.

“Stop here. I need to say hello to an old acquaintance.”

Yoshida waited for Kishibe to get out of the car. His leg brace greatly limited his mobility, for now
he walked in a manner appropriate to his age rather than like that of a man who was two decades
younger.

The interior of the grocery store smelled like diesel, rice vinegar, and old tobacco smoke, the
tawny yellow nicotine stains of which were ingrained into ceiling tiles above them. It looked like it
had been converted into a small cafe. An old jukebox played traditional enka music in the corner.

“Welcome!”

A woman with braided hair, presumably the owner, peered over the bartop at her two new
customers.

“Ah! It’s lovely to see you, Kishibe,” announced the older woman behind the counter. She was
nearly as tall as Kishibe himself. “The usual, I’m guessing?”

“Yes,” Kishibe said as he gingerly lifted himself onto the padded vinyl bar stool nearest to the front
door.

The bartender retrieved a bottle of unfiltered sake and a Kutani ware cup, setting it in front of the
old Devil Hunter. Kishibe poured himself some drink and examined the fragrant cloudy contents.

“To you, Nene,” Kishibe said, toasting the bartender before taking a drink. “Beautiful as always.”

“It’s ‘Tendo’ now. However, you are correct. Despite the occasionally dreadful winter weather in
the mountains, I do believe I’ve aged much better than you have,” the woman spoke in a polite
though slightly icy manner as she dried personal sushi plates with a navy and white dish towel
dyed with Japanese tie-dye techniques.

“You have,” Kishibe said as he made an expression that communicated long lost affection and
finished draining his cup. It was so strange to Yoshida, seeing this man emote like a somewhat
normal human being. “I’m…I’m sorry to hear about your oldest and her buddy. I wasn’t aware.
They were excellent kids when they were under me.”

“It was four years ago now, Kishibe. They’re gone, and there’s no way to get them back, no matter
how much my husband and I would like to have them back.”

“How is your littlest—Misa, was it?”

“She’s doing as best she can, but please. No reason to talk about them today.” The woman tried to
keep a cool, professional facade, but his words obviously hit an uncomfortable chord.

“Yes, ma’am,” Kishibe said resignedly as his thoughtful expression faded into obliviousness.

Yoshida allowed the door to close behind him and triggered a ringing doorbell. The eyes of every
customer within the establishment turned to examine this new stranger among their midst.

“Oh, hello!” Tendo Nene said after a brief glance in Yoshida’s way. “Come in.”

Yoshida smiled thinly as he went to sit at the bar beside Kishibe.

“Is this young man with you?” Nene asked Kishibe.

“This is Hiro, my nephew.”

“Oh, Mr. Hiro! Welcome, welcome,” the tall beauty said as she beckoned them in from behind the
counter. “Take a seat wherever you like.”

“My, my, he’s almost as handsome as his uncle, isn’t he? How old do you think he is? Thirty?”
cackled one old lady customer wearing a baby blue protective hair cap decorated with printed
yellow rubber ducks. Pale ash blonde roots stuck out from the cap. She was seated in a corner
booth across from another woman of similar age who had her dyed reddish violet hair wrapped
around curlers.

“Hush! Not in front of our guests!” Nene admonished.

“Why not?” the woman in curlers asked teasingly.

“Ignore them, fellows. They’re just trying to embarrass you, that’s all,” Nene cautioned.

“Nene’s correct. Old women like us don’t have much gossip to trade!” one of the two customers
exclaimed.

“So, Kishibe,” Nene said as she tried to ignore her rude customers, “are you here for Denji’s
birthday?”

“Why else would I end up here in Taira?” Kishibe said in his usual blunt manner. “Certainly not
for the food.”

Nene gave a laugh and then a shrug as she went to wipe off the old chestnut bartop with an old rag.
She started at the end farthest from the front door.

“And I suppose that you’re here for your cousin’s birthday as well, Mr. Hiro?”

“I am,” Yoshida said with a happy expression. With how often he had to mask his fairly indifferent
true self, he knew how to appeal to particular demographics. Women like these three were among
the easiest to impress.
“In all my years of listening to Mr. Mitaka discuss his day-to-day occurrences, never once have I
heard him mention a ‘cousin,’” the woman in curlers said in a semi-hushed tone to her
companion.

“He’s just as good-looking as Mr. Mitaka is, though,” the woman in the hair cap responded.

“This is Denji’s first time inviting me. We reconnected this past year on social media.”

“Social media! How about that,” the woman in the hair cap exclaimed.

“Hiro’s a cousin from Denji’s mother’s side,” Kishibe explained. “I watched after him often as he
grew up.”

“I see,” Tendo said as she reached over the bar and poured Kishibe another cup. “Mr. Hiro, what
do you do for work?”

“Federal contracts,” Yoshida responded without a beat.

“For Public Safety?”

“Yes.”

“Working for Public Safety’s a hard life, despite the excellent pay.” Nene wore a coy smile as she
reached for a frosty cold beer bottle, popped the cap, and slid it down the bartop. “A treat for you.
On the house.”

Yoshida caught the bottle, gave a reverential toast to the bartender, and took a sip.

Yep.

This woman knew more than she was letting on. She must be part of Kishibe's “top secret project.”

“So, Kishibe. How is your son and daughter-in-law doing? Though I saw Denji last week, Asa
hasn’t stopped by our home in a few months,” Nene asked.

“Are they still running the baby box, Kishibe?” the woman in the hair cap asked from her booth.

Eh?

“‘Baby box?’” Yoshida asked Kishibe. How did he not know about such a thing?

Kishibe smirked.

Wonderful. Yet another secret that he wasn’t entitled to.

“Yes, Mr. Hiro,” the woman donning the hair cap responded as Nene fetched her two customers’
orders of soba from the back, “a baby box, or baby hatch. They’re originally from Germany, I
think. They allow single mothers in crisis to safely, legally, and anonymously surrender their
babies. The Mitakas run one out of their home—it’s the only one in Japan. If a baby’s dropped off,
Denji runs the baby to his wife at the hospital as soon as he hears the buzzer go off. They’ve
saved…how many lives, Uma?”

“Eeeeh?” Her companion in the booth seemed to be hard of hearing.

“The baby box, Uma. How many surrendered babies have the Mitakas had?”
“So far? Twenty-eight that I know of, Suki,” the woman in hair curlers named Uma shouted over
her bowl of cold soba. “Ladies and girls in unfortunate situations from all over Japan come to
surrender their children in Taira. It’s sad, but it’s better than finding baby corpses in harbors along
the coast.”

“They’re rather private, but they are a lovely couple. They adopted those two little girls too, which
I think is very honorable,” Suki remarked.

“What’s…the…the oldest one’s name?” Uma asked between her chewing.

“Yoru!” Nene interjected as she wiped down newly washed wine glasses.

“Complete wild child! Semi-insane!” shouted Uma. “I’ve seen her father run after her through the
streets welding a hairbrush in an attempt to try and comb out her mats!”

“I caught her trying to steal strawberries right out of my greenhouse three weeks ago! After I told
Mr. Mitaka, he marched her right over and told her to apologize. To my astonishment, she did!
Apologized with a proper bow and everything. I gave her some strawberries as a peace offering,”
Suki said after she took a drink of hot tea.

“Suki, you’re a complete doormat. You can never say ‘no’ to them. Those two children could steal
your wallet and identity, and you’d still let them come into your home for sweets,” Uma griped.

“I disagree! Yoru’s not a bad girl—I’ve always found her charming, though it’s rather scary how
remarkably independent she is at her age,” Suki insisted.

“What’s the youngest one’s name?” Uma asked.

“Mmmm…ah, yes—Nayuta!”

“That’s her name! Thank you, Suki. A unique, but rather darling creature.”

“How old is she now?” Nene asked her newest guests.

“Three and a half,” Kishibe stated proudly.

“That sounds about right,” Nene responded.

“She loves those seven crazy dogs that the Mitakas recently adopted. I wouldn’t be surprised if she
becomes a veterinarian someday!”

“Smart girl, for sure. Nayuta takes after her mother unusually well personality-wise, even if they
aren’t blood related.”

“She’s the apple of her father’s eye, though.”

“Ah, both of those two girls have their papa at their beck and call. Mr. Mitaka would die for his
daughters.”

Yoshida’s two wheel-drive rental car, a dinged-up slate blue Acura Integra Type-R, barely made it
up the steel gravel path to the Kaneshon Ryokan. There on the mountain top, Denji’s inn and the
gardens were grand to behold and immaculately maintained, even in the blustery month of March.
Denji’s daffodils currently grew in Asa’s raised garden boxes, but Yoshida knew that Asa’s pink
carnations and Yoru’s favorite white cornflowers and red poppies would bloom there soon after.
As soon as the two men stepped out of the car, they were greeted by Denji’s free ranging flock of
domestic birds and the sound of barking from the house. The group was composed of a dozen
chickens (mostly Japanese bantams), six domestic geese, five Cayuga ducks, and a single Norfolk
Black female turkey. It was a funny flock, for both the males and females co-existed with
considerable peace. Having grown up with poultry as a child, Yoshida had no idea how Denji
accomplished such a feat.

“Do you see…?” Kishibe grunted as he scanned the two dozen birds. “Ah—there she is.”

As always, the single O-Shamo breed chicken of the flock, a tall two-year-old dark green-feathered
hen hand-reared by Yoru, was the flock leader. Yoshida would expect Denji’s handsome brown-
feathered Chinese goose or beautiful white-feathered tufted Roman goose to lead the way, but no.
This one, this giant nightmare chicken who weighed over four kilograms, had to be the one in
charge. The hen, an obscenely muscular bird with short feathers, an upright carriage, and
incredibly long yellow scaled legs, identified Yoshida as a looming threat to her community and
made a beeline for his shins. The demon chicken let out a guttural shriek as she ran at him with
outspread wings.

While Yoshida could easily curbstomp this bird in any other situation, Kishibe gave him a strict
order before the ride that he was not to injure anyone or anything during the visit. As such, his only
alternative was to flee. Kishibe laughed as Yoshida ran across the snow-bitten front yard, trying to
get the bird away from him.

“That one’s worse than the actual Chicken Devil, isn’t she?” Kishibe commented loudly.

Kishibe was correct yet again. The Chicken Devil within the possession of Public Safety (who’d
named himself “Bucky”) was a pure angel compared to this miniature dinosaur with plotting eyes.
Yoshida wondered if Denji could take the Chicken Devil out of the bureau’s hands and incorporate
him here.

The inn’s front entrance slid open with a bang. A young girl with a wild mane of dark bluish-black
hair and blood orange eyes ringed with bright yellow ran outside. She wore no shoes, an oversized
flannel shirt of Denji’s, and a pair of ripped and stained jeans.

“Nuc! Off!” shouted the War Devil from the front porch.

Hearing her name from her beloved owner, Nuc the evil hen turned and bolted over to the girl,
forgetting about Yoshida completely. The girl squatted with her hands outstretched and waited for
her pet. The chicken clucked happily as she ran into her arms.

“Good chicken.”

The girl lovingly hugged the hen as the hen stuck her head in the crook of the girl’s neck and held
it there. After a while, the girl carefully picked up the chicken and rubbed its featherless red face
as she turned her attention to their visitors.

“Grandpa!” the girl shrieked, running over to Kishibe still with the chicken tucked underneath one
arm. Kishibe embraced the War Devil for almost ten seconds.

“Yoru! You’re so big!” the old man exclaimed as he stepped back and looked at her from head to
toe.

“Yep! You don’t have to remind me!” The War Devil was quite tall for her age. All arms and legs.
Somewhere around a hundred and sixty centimeters already. Yoshida wondered if young devils’
appearances were influenced by people they were surrounded with. If so, Yoru might be tall like
her adoptive father.

“Yoru, do you remember your Uncle Hiro?”

Yoshida walked over with the playful grin that he used in this carefully constructed friendly
persona of his. Usually the two devils were away at school or daycare when Yoshida came for
house visits, but he’d definitely met both of them several times before.

Yoru made a face. “Who are you again?”

Ouch.

Alas, Yoru was like most devils. Except for those humans they knew very well or made an effort to
get acquainted with, most humans were faceless creatures.

“I’m your father’s cousin,” Yoshida explained matter-of-factly. “I visited last May.”

By the look on Yoru’s face, his references weren’t registering.

“Remember?”

Yoshida mimed throwing a pole weapon. The devil’s eyes lit up.

“…Oh, right!”

She reached into her pocket.

“Pencil Spear!” she cried.

The sharpened Mitsubishi brand wooden pencil with a red shaft and a silver eraser holder in her
hand expanded rapidly in size and width. It became a formidable weapon that could pierce through
a man’s rib cage.

“Yoru!”

Denji was upon his daughter in seconds. Yoshida always forgot how tall and strong the hybrid was,
as his mental image of the guy was still that of a starving teenager with an eyepatch looking for
food scraps. Yoshida was still slightly taller, but Denji was more muscular than he was.

“Absolutely not,” Denji said, gently taking the pencil spear from his daughter’s fingers and
sticking it under his armpit.

“Remember what we talked about this morning?”

“Papa!” Yoru protested with a stomp.

“It’s my birthday. Please don’t practice combat with Uncle Hiro on my birthday today, okay?”

“But Kana and him are the only people that I can practice with besides you! Plus, he’s more fun to
throw things at!”

Kana was Yoru’s nickname for the Octopus Devil.

“I’m sure Uncle Hiro and Kana will be thrilled to come up soon and do some target practice with
you.”
Denji gave Yoshida a questioning look.

“Of course, we would be happy to!” Yoshida exclaimed.

“Fine,” Yoru pouted.

“You know what you can do today, though?” Denji asked his disappointed daughter.

“What?”

“I’m sure Uncle Hiro will let you practice peace negotiations with him.”

Yoru’s eyes lit up.

“Like Captain Jean-Luc Picard?” she whispered.

“Just like Captain Picard. Even better, he’ll know all of those fancy words that I don’t know.”

The War Devil beamed as she gently put Nuc back down on the lawn.

Great.

Yoshida was in charge of babysitting today.

“Yoru, do you mind watching your sister and the dogs inside while I chat with Grandpa and Uncle
Hiro?”

“Only if I get two strawberries on my slice of cake tonight,” Yoru asked in a proud grown-up
manner, giving Yoshida a sneak peek at her bartering skills.

“Hm…two strawberries, you say?” Denji mused as he rubbed his chin. His hair was wet, which
made Yoshida wonder if the man just got out of the shower. Still, he stood in this cool outside air
like it was nothing. Denji had stubble on his cheeks today too, which meant that he probably
expected the two of them later in the afternoon and had more preparation to do.

“Two strawberries. No more, no less,” Yoru added seriously. “If you don’t agree to this term, your
firstborn will starve.”

“Two strawberries it is, then.”

“Good!” Yoru hugged Denji and made her way back inside. The trio heard the dogs greet her at the
entrance.

As soon as the door shut behind her, Denji turned back to the two Devil Hunters.

“Kishibe. Yoshida,” Denji said seriously, addressing both Devil Hunters. He adjusted his hastily
thrown on his house robe to cover his bare chest and pull cord better.

“Mitaka,” Kishibe responded.

“Any news for me?” Denji asked, crossing his arms across his chest. “Any new visitors that I
should prepare a room for?”

“Not much. You’ll get your allotted funds for the fiscal year in three weeks. No Devil Hunters
need to be sent your way as far as I know,” Kishibe began.
“We’ve located Famine, but she’s not causing any significant trouble right now,” Yoshida
continued.

Denji’s eyes widened. He’d never had a good poker face.

“We’ll probably narrow in on her in a few months if our budget is approved,” Yoshida added.

“So, I’m not needed in the field or anything?”

“Bomb and Crossbow are more than plenty for our current needs, but be ready at a moment’s
notice,” Kishibe affirmed.

“…Right.”

Six hours later, Yoshida ducked away from the birthday activities just once, to go use the restroom
and take a few minutes to stalk through the empty back rooms just in case. The mere presence of a
powerful hybrid and two formidable devils was enough to keep most weak devils and human spies
from snooping around, but that didn’t prevent Yoshida’s tendencies for investigating his
professional concerns.

He’d gotten to the ice room when he heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall.

Yoshida pressed himself into the corner furthest from the door.

“Kana, disguise,” Yoshida whispered.

Shit.

After a two hour-long debate with the War Devil about whether Yoshida would relinquish his
contract with the Octopus Devil for the sake of world peace, Yoshida unwittingly used Yoru’s
nickname for his companion.

The Octopus Devil was five steps ahead of him. She hid the Devil Hunter in plain sight with an
effortless grace.

I like that name, Hirofumi. It’s an honor to be gifted such a pleasant address by one of the Four
Horsemen. You should call me that more often.

Through their psychic link, the devil had an intelligent, at times playful, and somewhat feminine
voice.

I’ll think about it, he responded as he squeezed himself as far back as he could go.

Boo. You’re lucky that you’re so cute, you know that?, the devil griped.

Denji entered the ice room. Now freshly shaven and dressed in jeans and a grey knit pullover,
Denji looked less like an innkeeper and more like a regular young man in his early twenties. His
arms were wrapped around himself in a self-soothing embrace. He breathed shallowly and rapidly.
His eyes darted about as he paced.

Yoshida heard lighter footsteps down the hall outside. They stopped right outside the ice room.

“Sweetheart?” Mitaka Asa called from outside in the hall.

Denji stopped pacing and leaned against the off-white refrigerator. He slowly slid down into a
sitting position on the cold earthen floor with his knees tucked against his chest. His fingers found
the silver ring on his left hand. He began to twist it about again and again and again. The chainsaw
hybrid couldn’t catch his breath.

When she didn’t get a response, Asa opened the door and entered quietly, sliding it closed behind
her before going to her husband’s side. The medical resident still wore her mint green scrubs,
having just arrived after her shift’s end less than an hour ago. Like Denji, she’d grown into her own
body and confidence. While Asa still had a tendency to stumble when her emotions got to her, her
awkward cuteness as a teenager had transformed into an understated and rather mature grace as an
adult.

Asa didn’t say anything as she sat. Instead, she rested her chin against his knee and pressed the side
of her face to his chest. Denji accommodated her, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and
pulling her tightly to him.

They sat there in silence until Denji calmed down. His deep and soothing breaths combined with
the neverending hum of the fridge filled the crowded room.

“They found Famine,” Denji whispered.

“Oh…oh, wow.” Asa got out quietly.

“They might need me to fight in a few months.”

“Ah.”

“Fuck, I’m scared,” Denji spit out as his voice cracked. “I…I really, really, really don’t want to
leave you, especially after what happened with Makima.”

“I don’t want you to leave either.”

“Did I tell you what they did to the hybrids after Makima’s defeat?”

“You didn’t. What did they do?”

“They’re locked up in holding cells like fucking animals until they’re needed for the next big
mission. All six of them. Even Reze and Quanxi. They’re rarely let outside.”

Asa offered her hand, palm up, to Denji. He let out a shaky breath and went to hold it. “Kishibe
looks so battered and old. It doesn’t look like he has more than a year or two left in him. After he
dies, I’m…I’m scared what’ll happen. If I go into the field, they could physically restrain me. If
they let me come back home, what if they take a second look, see me living here with you, and be
like, ‘Hey, why is that specific hybrid allowed to walk free around normal people?’”

“It’s because we’re a package deal.”

The comment granted Asa the faintest shadow of a bitter smile.

“Like, I need to be here. Not just for the inn and for you, but for the girls now too. Like, back then
with Makima. Yoru…Yoru should never have needed to protect her mother by herself,” Denji
murmured.

“Agreed.”
Asa pressed a lingering kiss to his cheekbone.

“Remember, Denji. If we gotta, we’ll negotiate. If Public Safety can’t provide us what we need,
despite knowing how much they can’t lose us, we’ll go elsewhere until we find it.”

“…You’re insane.”

“Kishibe might not give me a perfect Devil Hunter score, but I think I’m smart and crazy enough to
risk my pitiful allegiance to this country if it means that my family gets to live peacefully.
Wouldn’t you agree, Yoshida?”

Dammit.

Yoshida’s days of spooking Asa were over. As she got older, Asa developed an uncanny ability to
read the air for concealed beings and persons.

“Octopus, revert.”

Only if you say it.

“Kana, revert.”

There we go.

Asa looked up at their unconcealed and unwelcomed guest with a wild look in her eyes. Denji
smiled, obviously in on the observation by the account of his devil-like detection abilities, but just
now calm enough to address it.

If adult Mitaka Denji was a well-trained dog, adult Mitaka Asa was a cat. However intelligent she
turned out to be, she never performed a trick unless it was on her own terms.

“Well? Would you agree?” Asa asked.

“I agree,” Yoshida said in a resignated manner. He couldn’t risk antagonizing these two in any
shape or form if they wanted to defeat the last two horsemen. Despite what the higher-ups might
say otherwise, Public Safety was at the mercy of these two officially twenty-seven-year-olds. As
Head Captain of Division 1, Yoshida would see to it that Asa and Denji stayed happily within the
folds of the organization for the rest of his career.

“We’ll see you back in the common area for cake in a moment? Tell Kishibe and the girls that
we’re retrieving the goods,” Asa instructed Yoshida as she nodded towards the door.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Yoshida left the room, but waited by the door to eavesdrop on the very last of the Mitakas’
conversation.

“Honey?” Asa asked.

“Hm?”

“Can I say it now, since it’s officially your birthday? I don’t want to embarrass our oldest by saying
it out loud in front of her, you know?” Asa joked.

“…Yes,” Denji responded gently. “Yes, you may.”

“Well, here it is, then. I love you, Denji. I love you to the moon and back.”

”I love you too.”

 Epilogue 2
Chapter Notes

Hello, dear readers!

Happy Valentine’s Day AND Chainsaw Man Tuesday! I hope you have a good one
(no matter what might happen in the next chapter). This is the second epilogue of Stray
Dog, primarily set in 2016. An enormous "thank you" to TapRap for beta-ing this
chapter so I could get it uploaded today!

I can't believe this fic has passed the 100k word mark! It was originally going to be
about 8k words...'tis the power of an expanding plotline.

There’s a sex scene in this chapter. If you want to skip it, stop after “‘I’m kinda in the
mood...’" and resume at “Asa yawned…”

One more epilogue to go! Thank you for hanging in there!

Best,
Lady

P.S. Regarding Chapter 120, Chainsaw Man is running on unabashed romance shoujo
manga logic now. As a former teenage shoujo manga fanatic, I assure you that 99% of
the time, first male lead always wins, whether it is wanted or not. Asaden shall prevail
(I hope)!

When Asa began her rotational shifts as a medical student at Nanto Central Hospital, she became
an "early to bed and early to rise”-type of person. Denji went in the opposite direction. Though he
went to bed at the same time as her most nights, he did this mostly so he could cuddle with her for
an hour or so. As soon as Asa fell asleep, he leapt out of bed to continue working.

He found himself most productive in the wee early morning hours before sunrise when Asa, Yoru,
and the guests sent to him by Kishibe or Yoshida—of which he had more than he liked to have at
the current moment—were resting and unconscious.

During his time burning the midnight oil, the baby box needed to be checked two more times, just
in case the alarm didn’t go off correctly. Denji had wired the contraption himself—the alarm
worked every single time a little one had been dropped off, but an underlying sense of anxiety
made him check the box four times a day just in case. He checked one time right after he woke
around eight in the morning, one time right before dinner, one time around eleven o’clock at night,
and one more time around four in the morning, right before he went back to bed. The only time he
checked it once a day was when Yoshida visited, per Kishibe’s request.

The last thing Denji wanted to do was traumatize an infant by leaving it in a dark box. All the
parenting books that Asa had used to help Denji learn how to read and expand his vocabulary liked
to claim that babies don’t remember bad shit that happened to them at a young age, but Denji knew
the truth. Denji had ghostly memories from when he was left alone in that dark apartment. Being
tired, hungry, and in need of a new change of clothes. That shit haunted him to this day. Human
baby, devil baby, or any type of baby in between—he’d never let one experience what he had
experienced in his first few years of life.

Once Denji finished wiping down common spaces, preparing breakfasts, and sorting out accounts
by the light of the moon, he relaxed a bit.

He liked to pull out a tiny cheap rabbit-eared television that was tucked away behind the front desk
and turn on a program. At the moment, he was watching the terribly dubbed Star Trek: The
Original Series at very poor resolution due to their location on the mountain. It was all Asa’s fault,
turning him onto this show which only aired on obscure television networks at odd hours. He had
to keep the volume low, on the account that four-year-old Yoru obsessed over the show. It’d been
more than once that Yoru woke up and demanded to sit in his lap at two in the morning so she
could watch the latest negotiations between the crew on the starship Enterprise, the lizard-like
Gorns, and the blue-skinned and antennae-bearing Andorians. Something about space lasers and
democratic conversations clicked in her little brain. That made sense, with her being the new
incarnation of the War Devil brought to the inn by Kishibe himself.

Despite that somewhat scary fact relating to her true nature, Denji loved Yoru, as neurotic as she
was, almost as much as he did his wife. As she grew older and older, little Yoru looked incredibly
similar to her adoptive mother. Something about glossy black hair mixed with overly serious
resting expressions.

Denji hoped that, by allowing Yoru to watch this show which was otherwise meant for adults, she
could learn as she grew that there were more than violent ways to solve a conflict.

That late night in September, Denji had trouble focusing on Captain James T. Kirk’s latest lady
problem. As Denji rested in bed just two hours prior, his beeper went off against his hip. He turned
on the nightstand lamp, pulled the pager out of his pocket, and read out the dreadfully awaited text
from Kishibe.

The guest comes with takeout. Gorge with pleasure.

The skies decided to open up and dump buckets upon buckets of rain down upon Taira as soon as
Denji reluctantly extricated himself from Asa’s arms and crawled out of bed. Asa insisted on her
holding him tonight, something which Denji forgot how much he loved. As he grew older, his
devil-like senses grew stronger and more pronounced. He loved few things more than listening to
Asa’s breaths as she slept. The way her blood moved and pulsed through her body in those
moments mesmerized him too. It was easier to feel that sensation when her chest was pressed
against his back. As he slipped on his traditional short winter coat over his pajamas, Denji
mourned the time to cherish that sensation in exchange for doing Kishibe’s dirty work.

Asa knew generally about them, but the details of the Denji-only tasks were things that stayed
between the Mad Dog, Yoshida Hirofumi, and Denji.

“If you want to live, you’ll do everything I command you. From here on out, if I tell you to jump,
you’ll jump, or you get to kiss your pretty girl goodbye. Got it?”

It was one of the first things Kishibe ever told Denji that fateful morning in that dingy motel before
an injured Asa awoke. Of course he’ll jump if Asa’s well-being was in danger. He loved her more
than anyone else. For this current task, Denji had to eat another devil. The Control Devil,
apparently, whatever that might be. Kishibe and Yoshida kept him in the dark about most of his
missions’ details up to that point.

His new guest made their presence known with three confident knocks at the front door. Denji shut
off the television, shoved his feet back into their slippers, and went to the door. As he cracked open
the door, he was surprised at who he saw.

Instead of the usual crusty thirty-something-year-old male Devil Hunter, a beautiful woman stood
at his doorstep. She blinked slowly with a placid smile on her face, her features illuminated by the
electric lantern hanging above the entrance. The downpour above them both caused her short
brown hair to stick to her cheeks and forehead. A cold-induced blush colored her cheeks as she
stared at him almost flirtatiously with striking emerald green eyes.

“Hello! I brought your meal.” She held four wooden picnic baskets out in front of her, two on each
arm. She carried them weightlessly.

“What meal?” Denji asked as instructed.

She set three down and opened the lid to the fourth.

“Tonkatsu curry, of course.”

The decapitated head of a young red-haired woman stared up at him with newly sightless eyes.
They were ringed alternating light orange and gold in a similar fashion to the blood orange and
yellow of Yoru’s eyes. The rest of her body was neatly packaged underneath in tissue paper like
lovingly prepared pork. Denji felt nauseous as he looked back up at his new guest.

“Enjoy!” the woman exclaimed as she gave Denji the baskets.

Denji couldn’t help it. He opened the basket lid again.

This time, it wasn’t Captain Makima, the ruthless head of Tokyo Special Division 5, who Reze,
Kishibe, and nearly everyone else in Public Safety tried so hard to kill. It was the head of six-year-
old Nayuta, his beloved second daughter. An orange-bodied carrion beetle crawled out of her slack
mouth.

Denji screamed.

“Papa!”

Denji jerked awake. Almost seventeen-year-old Nayuta, hair askew and barefoot, had her newly
manicured French nails dug deeply into his arm and a look of alarm plastered onto her face. Fresh
out of bed, she wasn’t wearing her brown-colored contacts for once. Her beautifully ringed eyes
danced across his face.

“Nayuta—!” Denji gasped.

It was strange having his eldest two home for a week, from university in Tokyo for Yoru and from
boarding school for Nayuta. After Nayuta was accepted there on scholarship, she begged Asa and
him to let her go. She aged slightly faster than her human peers, leading her to skip a couple years
of school. After many tense conversations among Public Safety personnel, Nayuta got her way.

“Papa, you were having a bad dream—Custard woke me. I heard you crying, and—”

Right. It’s 2016. Makima…Makima was a long time ago. She can’t hurt you.

Calming himself down was a lot harder without Asa there.

“Are Fami and Eri still asleep?” Denji asked, hastily changing the subject as he realized he’d fallen
asleep on the couch. All these years later, Denji still had nightmares whenever Asa stayed
overnight at the hospital and he wasn’t able to accompany her as she fell asleep. If the dreams
weren’t about Asa dying, they had to do with the fact he had to eat three of the four previous
incarnations of his daughters in their humanoid forms.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he said simply, hastily wiping away tear tracks from his cheeks with the hand that had
been thrown over the back of the couch.

A wet tongue began licking his other hand that was extended over the opposite edge of the couch.
Custard, the last living member of Makima’s pack and Nayuta’s best friend since childhood,
looked at Denji with big sad hazel eyes. At about sixteen now, the big and reliable husky was
going blind and deaf.

Denji sat up and tousled the good dog’s ears.

“Bad dream?” Nayuta asked.

“Bad dream.”

Nayuta sat down beside her father. While Yoru looked the most like Asa, Nayuta was the child that
most took after her in personality. Serious, inquisitive, book smart but not bizarrely genius like her
youngest sister, sensitive though she tried to pretend she wasn’t, and very animal-loving. Denji
enjoyed going on leisurely hikes in the forest with Nayuta, ones where she’d run off the path to go
check for frogs and newts underneath wet rocks or to bring him back weird-looking caterpillars
that she found on a bush or tree leaves.

Nayuta took a little bit after Denji too, especially when she came into the bulk of her powers about
eight years ago. Just like Denji, it took extra time and training to get her powers under control, but
she got there eventually.

“I…I had a bad dream too,” Nayuta confessed as Custard put her head in Nayuta’s lap. “On
Tuesday night, actually.”

“You did?”

“Mhm.” Nayuta’s hands went to Custard’s ears. She began petting the spot behind her ears that
Custard loved most to be scratched at.

“…Want to tell me about it?”

“I think it was from Makima’s memories, because I had a long braid in it.”

Like Asa, Nayuta kept her hair in a bob. She’d grown it out once, but quickly cut it after classmates
noted her resemblance to the reviled former Control Devil, made notorious by the battles she
openly fought in downtown Tokyo.

“…In the dream, I was on a tropical island. Judging by the seabirds, it looked to be somewhere in
Philippines, maybe? I forced a beautiful red-haired angel to kill his entire village by mind-
controlling him. He could suck out lifeforce from humans by touching their skin. I, or rather
Makima, I guess, saved the girl he loved for last. I laughed as the young girl pleaded with the angel
for her life.”
Nayuta exhaled slowly as she finished her story. It was on the island of Mindoro. Denji heard that
tale from the Angel Devil himself in between sips of gin through a straw. He remembered how
Himeno sat beside Angel and thoughtfully rubbed his back despite the devil’s resigned and
emotionless delivery of his recently recovered memories.

“I’m sorry, baby.”

Denji offered Nayuta his arms without a word. Nayuta fell into them with an upset sigh. She leaned
her head against Denji’s shoulder out of habit. She’d done it since she was barely a toddler newly
adopted into their home. When she wouldn’t be quiet in those days, Denji would put on an old
blues record or sing off-tune songs to her, walking about the house with her on his shoulder until
she fell asleep.

Denji wrapped his arm around her and hugged her to him.

“…Papa?”

“Hm?”

“Are you ever scared by what you know you’re able to do?”

“…Every single day, but you can’t let it get to your head too much.”

“I know.”

“We’re physically strong, but that doesn’t make us better than other people. Other humans, fiends,
hybrids, or devils.”

“I…I know that too.”

Denji pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She let him without grouching. At her age, Nayuta
wouldn’t be caught dead letting him do that in front of anybody else, even Asa. Denji knew he
would cherish this moment for a long time.

“I love how in touch you are with yourself and your emotions, you know that?”

Nayuta’s usually placid face twisted up before cracking.

“Papa, there’s something I need to tell you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I have someone I like at school.”

“Oh?”

“A human,” she admitted.

“Oh.”

“I really, really like them. I want to confess, but like, what if they find out?”

“Nayuta…”

“I’m barely able to act normal around them now. My brain keeps telling me, ‘Take. Take, take,
take. Control, control, control.’ Like, shut up, brain. If I do try to confess, I’m scared that either I’ll
do something like what I did when I was eight—”

Unspoken subtext rippled under the surface.

“—Or I’ll become a laughingstock with the girls in my grade. I can’t do anything right.”

While Yoru remained oblivious through her teenage years—a blazing ball of passionate fire that
attracted other rebellious teenagers—Nayuta grew from boisterous and self-assured to quiet and
self-conscious.

“It’s just like, no matter what I do, I’m barely not considered the creepy girl in my dormitory.”

“Well, I think you’re cool just the way you are,” Denji said, wiping away the few tears that fell
from his daughter’s eyes. His chest ached. Not to this extent, but he still knows what this feeling is
like, even now.

“You don’t count here, Papa,” Nayuta retorted quietly. “I’m weird with people my age because I’m
not human, but I want to be.”

“I’m not human either, you know?”

“Your brain’s human. You used to be completely human,” Nayuta said with sad frustration.
“You’re not completely a devil like me.”

“I know.”

“Ugh, you and Mom have it so easy. You two got together when you were like, a barely year older
than me, and you were both human at the time. Even better, Mom still wanted to be with you after
Pochita took over your heart. Like…like, that’s the kind of love I want.”

Denji felt himself shed a few tears too.

“I can’t go up to this person I like and be like, ‘Hey, I really like you. Want to go on a date?—Oh,
by the way, you should probably know that I’m also the Control Devil—why, yes, just like the evil
red-haired lady in those videos online,'” Nayuta said as she frustratedly wiped her nose on her
sleeve.

“Nayuta, you’re not Makima.”

“But I could become like her. Like, super easily. It’s…it’s so scary.”

“Nayuta, listen to me.”

Denji pushed Nayuta’s bangs away from her forehead—a habit he picked up from Asa—and kissed
her forehead.

“You’re compassionate, caring, and hard-working. You have a hundred other amazing positive
qualities too. Just wait—someone will notice them sooner than you think. Maybe they’ll be another
devil, or maybe they’ll be a human—who knows? But I promise you, someone will love you for
just the way you are.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“It might not feel like it now, but I promise you—it will happen.”

❦
“Reze is really pretty, isn’t she?” Asa said as she pressed her hands against the hot sides of her
ceramic mug. The pleasant scent of the green tea she was drinking filled the air.

She needed that caffeine. Asa was barely functioning on account of an entire overnight shift where
she had to linger for longer than normal until she was able to completely rotate out.

“Yeah, I guess. Why?” Denji took a seat beside Asa and began to peel the skin off of a slightly
squashed mandarin. He always ate the slightly older food these days so that it wouldn’t go to
waste. Yet another perk of being a hybrid: the inability to get food poisoning.

“I’ve never really taken the time to observe her closely until recently. She looks like a high fashion
runway model.”

Asa picked up the mug and pressed it against the middle of her chest. As she aged, the doctor got
colder more often than she liked to. To combat her coldblooded nature, Denji always made sure
that heated blankets were strategically placed around their living spaces at the inn. Today, they’d
come in handy. Denji was sure of it.

“Need a blanket?” Denji asked. It was oddly cold this early August morning. He’d give her that.

“Could you grab the quilt for me?”

“Sure.”

Denji stood and fetched her mother’s quilt from the antique linen chest. The years certainly had
begun to show their age on the heirloom. Nayuta had adopted it as her favorite childhood comfort
item as soon as she arrived at their home. Now that she was almost seventeen and preparing for
university, she was committed to putting away her childish things and being an “adult.” As part of
this process, she returned it to the family fold. Asa was secretly delighted to have it in the
meantime, but Denji knew that Nayuta would request it back as soon as she left for university.

“Do you like her?”

Eh?

“Reze plays dirty when we spar. ‘Sides that, she’s a’right. Eri likes her. Started calling her ‘aunt’
the other day. Cute stuff.”

“I’m glad that she’s stopping by more often than she used to. She looks less stressed these days. I
like how she’s grown out her hair too. After all Reze has done, it makes my heart happy that
Yoshida agreed to retire her and let her settle down in Taira. I just hope he retires the other hybrids
soon too.”

“Except for Katana.”

“Except for Katana,” Asa agreed. Unrepentant gangsters had no business running around free.

With her mug pressed over her heart, Asa focused her attention on the outside through the window.
It was hard for Denji to keep his hands off of her. She’d always been beautiful, but she seemed to
glow more and more with each passing year. He admired the fine smile lines on her face and the
wiry strands of white and grey woven through her bobbed rich black hair. They looked like
starlight dancing off of the ocean’s surface.

No fair.
He wanted smile lines and white hair too.

Denji also looked out the window. Fami, the inquisitive and independent eleven-year-old that she
was, diligently attended to her twisty wineberry vines in the garden against the house. The vines
were currently bursting with juicy red fruits. As instructed by Denji, the young girl carefully
plucked the very last of the ripe ruby-colored berries off of their stems and plopped them into a
repurposed plastic blue bucket meant for beach outings.

“…When I die, maybe you two can date.”

Denji dropped the citrus peel he held between his fingertips.

What?

“…Why’d you say that?”

“Why not? I’m not gonna be around forever, am I?”

Denji immediately stood, walked to her end of the table, took her hands, and kneeled down in front
of Asa.

“Did…something happen to you at work today?”

Denji felt a very human mixed sense of seriousness and worry pass through his system. It was a
familiar emotion that stemmed from countless late nights with his younger pair of fussy daughters
who claimed sickness but refused rest. In contrast to those two, he’d experienced it only a couple of
times before with Asa.

“No, goodness, whatever do you mean?”

Denji considered her seriously. She was lying. As a fellow bad liar, Denji knew his wife never lied
well using her words.

“What?” Asa asked.

“Did something happen to someone else?”

Asa sighed and clutched her mug tighter, spreading her fingers around the vessel.

“We…we had the airlift drop off a lady Devil Hunter from Yoshida today. The woman’s work
partner—an intelligent fiend,—her husband, and his buddy—a humanoid devil—were on the
helicopter with her. Her buddy’s the only reason she got to the hospital alive—she’s some sort of
blood fiend, so she could control her bleeding. The woman’s entire pelvis was crushed, but she
stabilized once we got a morphine drip in her. If she survives, she’s gonna have to retire from devil
hunting. You know, being a doctor for ten years, the families don’t affect me much, but the
husband…this grizzled thirty-something-year-old-looking fiend with a rifle for an arm—just broke
down as he sat on her bed by her side. Held her hand with his still human-like one and sobbed.”

Denji’s stomach dropped.

“I know them.”

“You do?”

“Hayakawa Aki’s the Gun Fiend, Hayakawa Himeno’s the wife who got hurt, Power’s the Blood
Fiend, and the devil’s called Angel. The Angel Devil. All brainwashed in Division 5 under
Makima, now recovered and in Division 2. I worked with them during the Famine mission.”

“Well, shit. You’re two steps ahead of me.”

“Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for.”

They both had small secrets—bits of confidential information—that they had to withhold from each
other.

“…Yeah,” Asa continued after a period of silence, “a married human and not-completely-human
person…it just struck deeper than usual, you know? Both of them look just a bit older than us. She
was probably in her early forties. They have a kid together too.”

“Wait, they have a kid?”

Himeno never mentioned being a mother.

“Yep, a son. I don’t know. I guess…I guess you could say that mortality’s been on my mind since I
got off of work—more than it usually does.”

Mortality.

His heart leapt to his throat.

Asa’s eyebrows rose as she took a sip of her tea and swallowed. “Oh—just so you're aware—her
husband, the partner fiend, and the devil are staying at the hospital tonight. Don’t worry about
preparing rooms for them until tomorrow.” She tried to speak cheerfully, but he could tell
something was very off.

“Are you healthy?” Denji asked in an urgent tone.

Asa smiled, but the expression didn’t quite reach her eyes as her genuine ones did.

“I’m about as healthy as a thirty-seven-year-old woman can be! Denji, I’m not that old, nor am I
planning to go anywhere anytime soon. I’m just…I’m just not you.”

The unspoken meaning of the last sentence hung in the air. Denji knew Asa all too well.

I’m not immortal, Denji.

Asa knew how much he didn’t like to discuss this subject. She avoided it when they were
newlyweds. As soon as she began to age at twice the speed that he did once they turned twenty, she
began to bring it up, albeit in brief conversations. When a bleeding Yoshida showed up on their
doorstep with a premature Eri seven years ago, mortality rested heavily on Asa’s mind on a near
constant basis ever since. Having the infant Death Devil resting in your arms tended to do such
things to humans.

“So?”

“So, I understand if you develop feelings for Reze. She’s a lot like you. I’m sure you’ve bonded
tremendously over that. That’s all I wanted to say.”

“Liar.”
Asa’s mouth quivered in a sad little grimace that indicated she was trying to keep her emotions in
check.

“Reze is a compact truck compared to me. She can sever her head from her body and use it as a
grenade,” Asa said, pantomiming pulling the trigger safety pin out of Reze’s neck. “I’m not a
helpless waif, but I certainly can’t do that. Remember what happened with Nayuta?”

Denji could see her internal cringing as soon as the question left her face.

Bang.

Denji did the first thing that came into his brain. He stood, eased onto her lap, interlocked his
fingers around the back of her neck, and pressed his forehead against hers. Asa didn’t try to resist.

“I would’ve been dead if I was the one home,” Asa whispered.

“You’re right. It’s a good thing that I was on the receiving end of that,” Denji responded as he gave
her a bunny kiss. She smelled of lavender oil, bleach, blood, and the bitter antiseptic iodoform. All
scents he’d never be able to detect if not for his devilish sense of smell. “I’m sorry that you had to
see the aftermath,” he added.

“It’s okay. I’m an emergency medicine physician.”

“Being a doctor doesn’t mean that you have to see my guts splattered out all over the floor and
walls of our home and then feed my disembodied head your blood.”

“I know...”

Denji gently pulled her fingers away from her mug of tea and set it on the table. He undid the front
tie of his housecoat, pulled it aside, and pressed her hands against his lower back. He wore a white
undershirt and grey joggers underneath.

“Denji, what’s with this position?” Asa complained good-naturedly.

“What? It’s my favorite. I don’t get to do this as often as I’d like.” Denji dropped his weight down
against her body. He didn’t give a shit that he was an entire head taller than Asa now and had to
slouch considerably to press his face to the side of her neck. This is where he liked to be.

“Come on. Off,” Asa said half-heartedly but with a teasing edge. She looked around his frame out
into the window to make sure Fami wasn’t watching.

“Hmmm…how ‘bout ‘no’,” Denji playfully teased back.

“Not while everyone’s awake.”

“No one’s around. All the girls are outside.”

“Including Eri?”

“Including Eri. Yoru and Nayuta’s watching her.”

Yoru, their pretty but reckless twenty-one-year-old eldest, was insanely protective over her three
little sisters. Despite what had happened in the past, Denji trusted their studious Nayuta to keep her
impulsive older sister in line if an innocent bystander got in the way.

“You can stop trying to look over my shoulder. Fami’s grabbing the wineberries that are growing
against the guest wing now. We’re alone.”

“Still!” Asa protested as a bit of a genuine smile ghosted her lips. Denji had to see a full one now,
one of the ones that made her eyes sparkle.

“They’re planning to go on a hike as soon as Fami finishes picking berries. She wants me to make
some tarts for her friend’s birthday party tomorrow."

“You’re a cool dad.”

“I know,” Denji responded with a smug grin.

”Do they have a phone on them?”

”Nayuta does.”

“Good.”

Asa rolled her eyes affectionately.

“Okay, off.”

“Only if ya listen to me carefully, Mrs. Mitaka,” he said very seriously, though he let his accent
and grammar slip a bit more than usual. As an innkeeper, Denji had an excellent professional grade
grasp of Japanese now, but he couldn’t help reverting a bit when it came to Asa and her attention.

“I’m listening.”

Denji’s skin erupted into gooseflesh as Asa reached underneath his white undershirt and ran her
fingertips just above the hem of his joggers. She dipped her thumb under the hem and the elastic of
his boxers just twice, right above his tailbone and then along the side of his hip. He jumped a little
at the sensation. With just how much skin-to-skin contact he craved daily, Asa unconsciously
developed a habit of regularly having some contact with his bare skin in private, even if it was as
little as this. Denji never mentioned it for fear of embarrassing her, though he knew it was out of
her freely generous and indulgent behavior towards him.

“Mrs. Mitaka, let me begin with this. Despite her appearances, Morumoto Reze was born in 1941.”

“She’s…” Asa did the quick mental math, “seventy-five?”

“Mhm. Talks like an old woman too. Complains about the price of whole coffee beans every single
time I see her. Just as obnoxiously as Uma and Suki.”

“I mean, it doesn’t matter that much in the grand scheme of things, does it?”

“Would you want to date a seventy-five-year-old?”

“No?”

“Precisely. Another thing, Mrs. Mitaka, is that our contracts are quite different. Her contract was
made directly with her devil, while mine isn’t mine at all, though I consented to it all the same—
something which you shouldn’t feel the slightest bit of guilt about.”

Asa and Denji discussed the sticky nature of that nastily drawn-up contract many times, but one
thing they didn’t do was mention it during tense moments. Even on the rare occasion Asa and
Denji had disagreements, the first thing he did after they cooled down enough to talk things
through was reassure her that he loved her and never once regretted telling Pochita “yes” to being
part of her contract with the Chainsaw Devil.

“Another thing is that she’s not aged a day since she became a hybrid. I have, though not as fast as
I’d like.”

Denji canted his hips against her stomach. Silly sentimentally like this, the rare moments when
they could sneak away and forget that they were forced to grow up too fast by a largely uncaring
government agency, always made him yearn for closer intimacy. He desired few things more than
coming apart in her arms, but it was hard to fit in time for that among the regular day-to-day tasks
of taking care of four daughters, an inn, and a working partner.

“Of all of these things, there’s an additional thing that stands out as the most important. You see, I
found my wife when I was sixteen. She found me rooting through a food waste dumpster and gave
me food scraps from her waitressing job. These bags were full of mostly kinda gross stuff like
burnt toast and old fruit rinds, but I didn’t care. It all tasted like the best charcuterie board one
could ever imagine. Then one night, she gave me flowers and rightfully demanded that I take a
bath. Awestruck, I agreed to her request. I put that bouquet of flowers in a chipped glass cola bottle
and admired them for hours that night. The next day, she jumped into the bathtub to help me scrub
down my upper half because I was injured. At that moment, I knew she’d be the only one for me.”

Denji looked down into Asa’s wise brown eyes. She stared back at him with an astonished
expression.

“…No way. You fell in love with me that quickly?” Asa asked.

“Of course. I’d never lie to you about that,” Denji responded as he pressed his face into her neck.
“That’d be a shitty thing to lie about.”

“What I remember is that you were nervous about if I was lying to you and that you didn’t want
me out of your sight. You did…you did tell me once that you wanted to marry me pretty soon after
meeting me, but I was thinking more like a marriage of convenience at the time. I didn’t think you
fell in love with me like that.”

Fuck.

Almost twenty years together, and Asa still made him blush all the way down to his chest like he
was an inexperienced teenager. She knew how to turn his brain into mush with just a few words.

“Well, I did, and I still feel that way.”

Asa twisted her mouth up in its characteristic crooked little line.

“I just want you to always be loved. I don’t want to leave you and the girls behind—”

“—And I don’t want anyone but you. That’s not gonna change.”

“It might change.”

“Trust me, it won’t.”

“…Whatever you say, Mr. Mitaka.”

Asa glanced at his mouth. Denji’s pulse quickened.

“Let me put it this way—if I get with Reze when you’re dead, then you better get with ‘Uncle
Hiro’ if I somehow kick the bucket before you do.”

“…Ew. Ew! No! No way!”

Denji laughed. Asa tolerated their boss, but she certainly didn’t carry any tender feelings towards
him.

“See what I’m saying?”

“Okay, okay. You made your point.”

Asa wrapped one arm around his waist and guided his jaw to her face. She kissed him, lightly at
first, and then deeply. He moaned into her mouth louder than he meant to and felt his skin flush
even darker pink. Though he always greedily accepted her kisses ever since the very first one all
those years ago, it’d taken over a year after Asa’s serious contract for Denji to be comfortable with
tongue. He didn’t trust his teeth and newfound strength at first, but they got there eventually and
never looked back.

Denji broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to hers.

“Plus, we don’t know how your contract will end. Maybe I’ll keep living after you pass, or maybe
Pochita will pop out of my rib cage like a chestburster the second that you’re dead.”

“…That’s a morbid thought.”

Denji shrugged. “I’ve gone through worse.”

Asa gave a small laugh, but concern danced in her eyes. She knew about the training and the fights,
but he didn’t tell her explicitly about the deaths he’d experienced when he was forced to leave her.
His nightmares were of her possible death by his hands and consuming humanoid devil flesh. Her
nightmares were of his dismembered dead body. He didn’t want to add more fuel to the fire.

“I…I kinda hope it’s the latter. I don’t think I wanna live for any longer after you’re gone,” Denji
admitted.

“Hey there, that’s almost as bad as your chestburster comment,” Asa admonished.

“No, it isn’t. What else is there to live for once you’re gone?”

Denji pressed an eager kiss to Asa’s lips. She hummed with contentment, a sound that sent electric
sparks straight to his dick.

“What about the girls?” Asa asked between small kisses to his mouth.

“I love them, but I think the girls will be alright just as long as you don’t suddenly keel over very
soon. Once they’re all adults, I think they’ll fly the coop very quickly. Plus, they like each other
well enough so far, and that’s really all we can ask for, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“It’s all thanks to those child-rearing books that I haven’t messed up too badly as a parent,” Denji
said with a smile.

“Shush, I always knew you were going to be a good father.”

“…I still can’t believe it at times. Kishibe gave a human girl and a newly hybridized boy—both
teenagers—a young devil to raise as their daughter…and then did it three more times after that.
What was he thinking?”

“Must’ve been drunk when he came up with that idea,” Asa offered.

“Must’ve,” Denji agreed.

As they bantered, Asa reached between them and cupped her hand over his clothed dick briefly
before removing it. Even through clothing all these years later, her touching him anywhere like that
was like fireworks.

“Hey! No fair,” Denji teased with a toothy half-smile. “Put it back.“

“Put what back?” Asa asked coyly. She reached under his shirt and brushed her fingers over his
sternum.

“Duct tape?” she asked, grinning into his face.

Partly for practical reasons and originally partly in jest, Denji discovered that a strip of duct tape
covering his pull cord was an easy and subtle nonverbal shorthand for “Pay attention to me,
please?” Whether that attention turned into kisses, intimate touches, cuddling, or sex, he didn’t
care. Denji wanted her, and only her.

Ugh, too much blood had rushed into his lower half to think clearly. He took the front hem of his
shirt and bit down on it, exposing his chest and stomach. Asa once confessed that she was weak for
the freckles beneath his navel, and Denji indulgently exploited that confession ever since.

“Silver duct tape this time?”

Asa’s callused fingertips ran over both of his nipples and he shuddered.

“Mhm.” Denji smiled as innocently as he could with his shirt pinned between his incisors.

“Pretty,” Asa said as she took the shirt hem from his mouth and pinned it right below the hollow of
his throat.

“You like it?” Denji asked.

“Yep.”

It didn’t matter that it was the only type of tape he had on hand, she still liked his decision.

He felt as proud as a peacock.

Asa cradled Denji’s face with her free hand and pressed her thumb against his lips. He took her
thumb tip in his mouth, bit down ever so slightly, swiped his tongue across the scarred tooth mark
left on her thumb pad, and let go. After the first two tense years of not being quite in full control of
his strength and physical capabilities, it was a calming feeling to be able to do trivial things like
that and not worry about hurting her.

“I’m kind of in the mood right now, of all things,” Asa whispered.

“Really?”

“Really, really. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

Denji kissed her palm. She knew him all too well.

Asa grabbed his hand and led him to their bedroom.

They’d surrendered the largest bed chamber to Yoru and Nayuta once Nayuta graduated from a
cradle to a big girl bed. After that, they took up residence in the loft and somehow never left.

Asa pushed Denji down on the futon and began to lovingly remove every article of clothing he
wore. “Like unwrapping a present,” she called this process once a long time ago. Denji, a
“present.” The very notion that she thought that way about him, a former street rat, still blew his
mind.

“You never change, do ya?” Asa teased as she peeled off Denji’s wet boxers. He always leaked
considerable amounts of pre-ejaculate before she even took his shirt off. It was something he still
found a little embarrassing despite Asa’s consistent reassurances that she found it cute and
flattering, even after all this time.

“You’re…you’re too hot,” Denji offered as a lame excuse, shrugging.

“I know,” Asa said cheekily.

The kisses she pressed to his newly exposed skin made butterflies flutter in his stomach.

Even during times of uncertainty, Asa made him feel protected. It was her smarts, after all, that
made Kishibe decide to move the pair up into the mountains. He might have the metaphorical
muscle, but she had the brains.

His brain completed its transformation into mush when Asa pressed kisses and light bite marks into
his inner thighs. It was an unspoken fact between them that Denji liked foreplay over just about
everything else. Through their extensive experimentation, Denji found that he didn’t care much for
oral on himself—he was too sensitive for the act to be pleasurable—but Asa could make his eyes
roll back with just her mouth and hands elsewhere on his skin.

“You’re a good boy,” Asa whispered against his cheek. “Have I told you that recently?”

“It’s…it’s been a while,” Denji admitted as he felt his entire body flush. He wriggled his hips in
excited anticipation as he locked his fingers around the back of her neck. Asa noticed and grinned.

Asa mouthed the taught muscle in the side of his neck as she went to straddle his lower stomach
and caress his ears.

“Bite me there,” he gasped as the urge got to be too much. Asa was the only person, he’d
discovered, that could trigger his otherwise dulled sense of pain. He hoped she’d suck on it. Her
hickies lasted no more than an hour on his skin, but he treasured every single one of them she gave
him. In an immature way, Asa's marks made Denji feel owned by her in a way that he craved deep
down.

“You sure?”

“Please,” he keened as he reached between their bodies and began to stroke himself. Asa lifted up
her lower half for him to reach.

Asa did as requested, latching down with moderate intensity. After his first death, biting, touching,
and kissing his unbearably sensitive neck turned into an understandable mental barrier for Asa. He
wept a couple happy tears when she finally felt comfortable enough to do it.

“Harder,” he begged. Asa complied. It felt so good that he was able to trust the person he loved the
most with the most traumatized part of his body.

She brought her hand down to caress the other side of his neck as she let go and began to kiss and
nuzzle the affected area. It smarted and tingled, sensations which usually meant it would leave a
mark for him to secretly admire in the mirror after all this was over.

“Sometimes when I see you walking around the inn in your traditional clothing, I want to do
nothing more than strip your clothes off, pin you down against the sink, and fuck the living
daylights out of you,” Asa said before she bit down on the other side of his neck with similar
intensity.

“Would I start wearing the outer robe to bed more often?” Denji asked.

“You know that I’ll rip you out of it in less than five minutes.”

“Okay, fair.”

“You look best without any clothes on,” Asa remarked with a grin. She knew exactly what to say to
make him throb.

“Are you sure you’re down for this?” Denji asked breathily, his brain solidifying for just long
enough to ask. He always asked, even all these years later.

“Absolutely! Fuck, I want you so badly.”

Asa stood up, stepped off of the futon, and began to remove her own clothing. As they got older,
Denji developed a deep appreciation for her ass, which was her best usually clothed feature
(though he worshiped every square inch of her body). Denji felt preemptive shocks of pleasure as
he stopped stroking his entire length and focused on the stretched piece of skin along the underside
of his tip. With his fingers there, he let out a gasp.

“What?” Asa asked over her shoulder, naked except for her silver wedding band which she wore on
a thin chain around her neck. As she caught him staring, she reached for their bottle of lubricant.

“Nothing.”

She’s so beautiful.

“It’s never ‘nothing’ with you, sweetheart,” Asa remarked as she turned around.

Agh.

He loved her tits and collarbones too. Her hips, stomach, and thighs were decorated with pink and
light brown stretch marks that he also thought were extremely sexy. He liked how they changed
and shifted in different lightings, like animal stripes or streaks of lightning. Those, in combination
with her various pale scars that were healed by him all those many years ago, were signs of a
vibrant life lived. Signs that his immortal body didn’t allow him to possess for himself.

“Just thinking of how much I love you,” he stuttered.

Asa beamed. A ripple of pleasure hit and Denji steeled himself against it. Before Pochita became
his heart, was he this fucking receptive to words? He couldn’t remember.

“Wanna know something?” Asa queried.

She carefully straddled him again, his cock pressing against the front of her pubic mound. She took
him in her hands and applied lubricant as she stroked up and down his entire length. While they
could occasionally be slightly intense in their coupling, Denji cherished Asa’s preference to gently
take control and treat him like he was something precious. While everyone else thought he was
something invincible, she never did.

“What?”

“You’re the best. Best dad, best innkeeper, best gardener, best handyman, best chicken farmer,
best cook, best husband, best kisser…but do you know what my favorite ‘best’ is?”

“What?”

“You’re my best friend.” Asa’s eyes lit up as she said it. The praise set his mushy brain on fire.

“You’re mine too!” is what he meant to say, but it came out as a jumbled and needy noise. It didn’t
matter.

She knew that already.

“Let’s see if I can do this without my knees giving out today, shall we?” Asa joked.

Despite his brain not really working, Denji smiled in response.

Asa leaned over and pressed a light kiss on his chin as she took his cock in her hands and gradually
brought herself down on him.

It took two years and three months after their marriage for both of them to feel ready to try
penetrative sex like this. Thankfully, Denji discovered that his dick could not transform into a
chainsaw and that his ejaculate lacked any superhuman abilities after many experiments, but he
turned out to be more nervous than Asa was once she was ready. If he could pick up a car by
himself, Denji could also crush someone’s skull like it was nothing simply by accident. Asa was
human—the best human there ever was in his opinion—but she was correct in that she was not
Reze. Reze could probably survive rough sex with him if such a cursed thing were to ever come
across the table. Asa might not, and Denji was haunted by that fact.

There was also the eternal fear that Asa or he might snag on the pull cord by accident. Hence, the
“joking, but not really” use of the duct tape down his breastbone.

Asa moved familiarly above him, grinning down at him when she finally hit where she liked it. He
shifted his hips to accommodate her, but he didn’t try to thrust up. Again, he was afraid of his own
strength despite having it under control for years now. He trusted it for small gestures, but not for
sex. It just took one slip-up on his part, and he had no do-overs.

“You’re doing such a good job for me, love,” Asa crooned as she readjusted her positioning.

He didn’t mean to be primarily a "pillow princess"—a term introduced to him in jest by Himeno of
all people years ago over a beer—but Asa always insisted that he was doing everything he needed
to do. Instead, he let his hands slide up and down her hips and thighs, taking care to not grasp too
tightly in a manner that could bruise.
Asa watched his reactions with glee, occasionally ducking down to kiss his bare chest. A blushing,
gasping, moaning mess of a person was all Denji was in these moments, greedily sucking up all of
her praise as she kept everything going just how she liked it.

“Good boy,” was Asa’s default phrase when she ran out of novel positive reinforcement. No
matter. All that mattered is that she loved him, even like this—a true side of him that no one else
would ever see.

Another look at Asa’s face—sweat sticking strands of hair to her cheeks combined with an
expression of utter adoration for him on her features, was enough to push him over the edge. His
fingers held firm to her hips.

“Asa—I'm going to—can I—?”

“Go ahead.”

Asa didn’t stop riding.

“I don’t—”

“I said go ahead.”

He loved commands from her, as embarrassing as it was to admit.

“‘Kay.”

Denji’s body trembled as he finished inside of her.

“Good boy.”

Asa pressed a kiss right above Denji’s heart. She laid down on top of him, her head pressed against
his chest, for a minute as the aftershocks rocked through his system.

Precautions didn’t matter, really. As a hybrid, he was truly sterile. Not a single sperm cell under a
microscope—Asa put his ejaculate on a slide multiple times late at night in the lab as a medical
student.

In her own way, Asa was in the same boat. Those painfully heavy periods that she had as a
teenager were symptoms of a condition she didn’t read into until their first attempt at penetration
was unbearable for her. With her condition, she too discovered her own infertility.

They were in this together.

“How’re you feeling?” Denji asked as his blood returned to other parts of his body. It was his turn
to treat his partner gently now, a responsibility he took great pride in.

“One second. Oof, my knees.”

Asa slipped off of him and pressed an awaiting towel between her thighs. She couldn’t quite
straighten her knees out yet. In the moment, she matched the energy of a beached horseshoe crab.

“Good, surprisingly,” his wife continued warmly.

Yay.

The new medication for her condition was working well, then.
“I’m glad,” he said quietly as he pressed a kiss to her cheek.

“Very good, actually, besides my knees.”

“Need help?”

“No, I got this…ah! Oh…there we go.” She managed to straighten them out with a groan and
flopped over on the futon, her hands resting on her stomach and the towel squeezed between her
legs.

“Now, how’re you feeling altogether?”

“I’ll be…excellent after I pee and use the shower,” Asa announced. “Be right back.”

“Do you wanna come afterwards?” Denji offered.

“Of course, I wanna come,” Asa responded with a grin.

“I’ll go to the bathroom with you.”

Asa left two brilliantly dark purple bruises on either side of his neck. He’d have to wear his
submariner’s roll neck sweater until lunch.

While Denji didn’t like receiving very much, he discovered soon after they got married that he
loved giving oral.

After they were freshly showered, Denji was in between Asa’s thighs as soon as they got back to
the futon. If her blood appealed to his devilish instincts, this taste appealed to his human ones. Asa
ran her fingers through his hair and uttered kind words until her thighs shook like crazy and she
reached her release.

After they cleaned up and Denji brushed his teeth, they curled up back in bed together. Asa threw
her lazy Sunday clothes back on while Denji took the moment to enjoy being naked for her.

Asa yawned and wrapped her arms around him.

“You need to get dressed before Fami comes looking for you,” Asa warned.

“I’ll hear her come inside—plenty of time to dress.”

“Whatever you say.”

Asa closed her eyes.

"Hey, sweetheart?" Denji asked.

"Hi. Yep?"

“Are ya taking a nap?”

“Mhm,” she mumbled. “I’m so fucking tired…”

“'Kay.”

Asa intertwined her fingers together around his torso, palms pressed flat over his un-taped pull
cord. She then threw her leg over his hip and locked it in place.

“Stay, Denji. Stay and sleep for once. Everything else can wait.”

Denji pressed her hands higher over his heart. After they moved to Taira, he’d discovered that their
resting heartbeats were forever in sync. It became a comforting reminder that no matter the
distance, Asa would always be there waiting for him.

“‘Kay, Asa. I’ll stay.”

 Epilogue 3
Chapter Notes

Hello dear readers,

Happy Chainsaw Man Tuesday! We have reached the very end of Stray Dog. Thank
you again from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this story. It has been a
pleasure to bring it to life. Your reviews, comments, and kudos have definitely kept
me motivated.

This epilogue jumps around a bit chronologically, but the very end is set in 2026.
Thank you again to RapTap for betaing and writing assistance. Couldn’t have done it
without you.

Best,
Lady

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Ever since she was a little girl, Nayuta felt most alive in the woods. Even before the bulk of her
powers came into being, she remembered how all of her devilish senses came alive by the stone-
lined creek in the valley.

The rushing and gurgling of the almost clear current over the smooth stones that lined the
creekbed. The pulsing ventricles of the trout, carp, bitterlings, and other ray-finned fish as they
swam through on their journey to get wherever they were going. The footsteps of grey herons,
egrets, night herons, and great bitterns searching for those fish echoed through her ears. The
buzzing flights of insects and the snakes rustling through the rich organic soil. She could hear it
all. The smell of petrichor, tree resin, and fungi also filled her nostrils as soon as she stepped into
this contemplative and sacred domain.

The forests of Taira were nothing like the virgin forests in the far north that she visited with Papa
when she was thirteen. The oaks, firs, and birches at Shiretoko National Park groaned and creaked
with their age. An awesome, but somehow fearful sight, even for her. The more southerly
Kasugayama Primeval Forest too thrilled her. The rustling wind through the maple and leaves
combined with the shrill call of a fairy pitta bird made her arm hairs stand up.

Nevertheless, this secondary forest was the one Nayuta called home. She knew these woods like
the back of her hand. She spent many hours alone or accompanied by dogs in this space, either
reading Yoru’s biology textbooks aloud to the wild animals who wouldn’t dare come near or
playing make-believe. She most often pretended to be a veterinarian. It reached the point where she
stole her mom’s mustard yellow fanny pack and began using it as a medicine pouch. In there,
Nayuta stored leaves and twigs from the flora that she read about containing medically beneficial
properties. Custard often came home with mysterious goopy green and sticky red streaks across her
cream-colored pelt.

During her years at boarding school and then university, the valley’s forest behind the inn was the
place Nayuta yearned for when her stress peaked.
There were many Fridays when she’d grab an overpriced train ticket and travel the four-and-a-half-
ish hours home. Once she got to the train station, she hiked home to the inn with only her school
bag on her back and a water bottle in her hand.

Once home, Nayuta always got a hug first from Papa if he wasn’t busy with a customer. After
some sarcastic banter between a now eight-year-old Eri and thirteen-year-old Fami, Nayuta
disappeared into the woods.

It was no surprise that this forest was where Nayuta’s life would change forever.

The first member of the Hayakawa family that she encountered in the woods was Angel.

Eighteen-year-old Nayuta was supposed to be studying for an anatomy and physiology exam
scheduled for the upcoming Tuesday. When she decided to hike through the forest she adored
instead, she stumbled upon him in her favorite part of the usual hike she took. The person sat by
the river, one leg drawn up to his chest and the other crossing at the knee. He shook his leg
restlessly as he furled and unfurled his white feathered wings. At a first glance, his wings reminded
her of her father’s Roman tufted goose from when she was a little girl. Above his head, a glowing
golden disc hung suspended from nonexistent strings.

He was small—shorter than her—and thin, but excessively beautiful. Nayuta couldn’t help but
stare at him from her hiding spot behind a huge flowering crimson azalea scrub.

With a sinking feeling in her stomach, Nayuta focused her gaze on the winged man’s facial
features. They were as clear as day—large saffron-colored brown eyes, a thin mouth, and a delicate
nose.

Yep.

He had to be a devil. Devils, including her, could only recognize other devils by sight. They used
their sense of smell to differentiate everyone else—fiends included.

If Nayuta was human, she’d suffer from prosopagnosia, or face blindness, according to Mom.
Every human was faceless to Nayuta, except for Mom, Papa, and Mrs. Tendo. As a child, Nayuta
forced her brain to memorize their features, though it took about three years for all of her training
to pay off. It was one of the benefits of having a devil brain as opposed to a human brain.

It had to be the exact same Angel Devil from her dreams, except this one had no hands in which to
reach out and take life. Nayuta felt shy spying on the winged stranger. He was dressed only in a
pair of black gym shorts with spandex underneath.

Just looking at him was like examining a piece of banned art. She vaguely recalled the stories that
Mrs. Tendo told her about scandalous art pieces. There was Rodan’s The Kiss, which was hidden
from sight during the Chicago World's Fair over a century ago. There was also the story about a
statue of a devil (in the religious sense) that was so distractingly hot that it was removed from
where it stood in a French church. The church hired the original sculpturer’s brother to replace the
statue with another devil statue. Out of spite, the brother carved an even hotter devil to replace the
original. She remembered the photo: a barely modest muscular devil wearing an agonized
expression as he dragged his fingers through his fluffy curls. If she could, Nayuta wanted to free
this devil’s straight auburn hair from its current ponytail and run her fingers through it—it was just
that pretty.
“You can come out from where you’re hiding, little Control Devil,” Angel announced to the
woods. His eyes didn’t stray from the creek.

Nayuta stayed in place. The thick, murky feeling of fear washed over her as her powers pricked like
wineberry thorns in her fingertips.

Possess.

Nayuta forced the thought from her mind. She didn’t like using her abilities. When they were
younger, Yoru and Fami enticed her to have mock battles with them, to mitigate some of the urges
they all shared when it came to their abilities. Yoru, then Fami, always won, while Nayuta always
came out with this gross and heavy feeling of soul-crushing loneliness. She became depressed for
days at a time after those episodes.

“I won’t hurt you. Don’t even have the arms to wield weapons these days,” Angel called out as he
finally turned his head and searched for the girl.

Nayuta finally gathered the courage to inch out from behind the azalea scrub. Her fingers worried
on the rubber strap to her lavender water bottle as she gradually got closer to get a better look at
him. She wondered if she could reach out and touch the halo above his head, or if it was an
immaterial object.

“What? Never seen a double arm amputee before?” the devil asked, amused sarcasm dripping in
his voice.

It struck Nayuta then, why she was so fascinated by this other devil.

“No, it’s not that. I realized you’re a hexapod, that’s all,” she blurted out.

“A…a what?” Angel asked, obviously disinterested. He ripped a stem of quaking grass out of the
creek bank with his toes and began to strip it of its narrow leaves and little spikelets that resembled
dangling green oats.

“Most earthly vertebrates have four limbs—or had four limbs—at some point in their evolution.
Thus, they’re tetrapods, because they evolved from the taxon of lobe-finned fishes called
Sarcopterygii. While most of those lobe-finned fishes are extinct, there are still a couple species
around. There are six species of lungfish, all of which belong to the Dipnoi order. The West
African lungfish, the South American lungfish, the Queensland lungfish, the spotted lungfish, the
gilled lungfish, and, last but not least, the marbled lungfish. There are also the two species of
coelacanth, which belong to the Actinistia order. The West Indian Ocean coelacanth and the
Indonesian coelacanth. So…yeah. You have four limbs now, but when you had your arms, you had
six limbs. You’re a hexapod, like insects or springtails.”

The angel looked at her with a blank expression before smirking.

“You’ve adopted your caretakers’ mannerisms, haven’t you?”

The smile Nayuta developed as she rattled off biology facts faded. She wove her fingers together
nervously. It was difficult to tap into her confident younger self’s persona, even though she tried to
use it whenever she was home on break from school. She couldn’t let Fami, Eri, and Mom worry
about her.

“I…I do?”

“You emote animatedly like Chainsaw and speak excessively like Dr. Mitaka.”
“...You know my parents?”

“I know your adoptive father very well. We fought together numerous times over the years.”

Oh.

Nayuta remembered those nights before Papa left to fight. He was never gone for longer than two
nights at a time. Her father always tried to put on a good face at dinner those nights, telling her,
Yoru, and later Fami that he had a last-minute business trip to attend.

Nayuta knew her father lied about these “business trips” from the very beginning. She’d use
Custard’s or Tiramisu’s eyes to spy on her parents after she was supposed to be asleep. After Mom
put down Fami, who was fussy as a toddler, they retired to the common area. There, they would
pull out the record player and put on a Billie Holiday, Annette Hanshaw, Dean Martin, Frank
Sinatra, or some other crooner’s album. Once they turned down music as quiet as it could go,
they’d hold each other and sway. Sometimes they stayed that way for half an album. Other times,
the entire album played through two or three times.

Papa usually cried first.

“It’s a maximum of three days, sweetheart. Not long at all,” her mother said. “Much better than it
was before.”

“I know, but still,” her father responded.

Papa would squeeze Mom tightly as his entire body trembled.

While her classmates often spoke of how inaccessible their fathers were growing up, Mitaka Denji
was the complete opposite. He was unfailingly dependable though not overbearing, honest, eager
to hear what she was learning at school, willing to spend time with her at the drop of a hat, and
emotionally expressive. Well, he was emotionally expressive except for when it came to sadness.
Papa comforted her and her sisters plenty, but he rarely cried in front of his children. Plenty of
smiles and awful jokes, but almost never tears.

It shook six-year-old Nayuta badly the first time she saw her papa cry as he swayed with Mom
before he left for his business trip.

Mom always patted away his tears with a handkerchief. She occasionally cried as well during these
private dances. In her day-to-day life, Mom was loving but cool, serious, and direct. She was not an
incredibly emotional person. Her uncharacteristic tears unnerved Nayuta too. As she grew older
and more cognizant of the emotions of the people around her, Nayuta stopped using animals to spy
on people, including her parents.

The stranger yawned and stretched out his legs in front of him, dipping the very tips of his bare
toes into the creek as he did so.

“I’ve only recently become acquainted with your adoptive mother though, through my…
coworker’s rehabilitation.”

Nayuta had to ask.

“You’re the Angel Devil, right?”

The beautiful person stared at her with tangible weariness in his features. His striking eyes watched
her every movement.
“It’s just ‘Angel,’ now. Call me that.”

“Oh. Well then, I’m Nayuta, and not…not ‘that.’”

“Oh, are you now?”

“Yes, um—please don’t refer to me as that. ‘Control,’ I mean.”

“...Very well. I guess I’ll respect your decision,” he sighed as he shook out his wings.

“Mr. Angel?”

“Not my name,” he sighed.

“Angel?” Nayuta corrected herself.

“...Yes?”

“I’m glad to have finally met you. I…I wanted to let you know that I’ve dreamt about you before.”

“You have?”

“I have. Makima’s memories come to me sometimes. I can’t control them. I want to say that I’m…
I’m sorry. I know that doesn’t do much and that I’m not her exactly, but I’m sorry all the same.”

Angel’s expression didn’t change. He uncrossed his legs again and sat up straight, rolling his
shoulders back as he did so. His ring wing trembled as a tight muscle spasmed and loosened.

“You should leave now, Miss Nayuta. I don’t want you hanging around my kid.”

…Kid?

Could devils have children? In truth, Nayuta didn’t know.

A third voice pierced through the air.

“Dad—!”

A teenaged guy with slate black hair came high-stepping upstream in camouflage-colored fishing
waders and a fluorescent yellow rain jacket.

It took a few moments for the realization to come together, but it hit Nayuta like a truck when it
did. She clapped her hand over her mouth.

What…is this?

The boy stunk of pure human flesh, but she could completely visualize his facial features. He had a
heart-shaped face, a button nose, and small eyebrows that made him appear a bit worried in his
excitement. Behind his silver-framed aviator glasses, he had icy blue eyes. Judging by his chubby
cheeks, he was probably around two years younger than her. In sum, it was a face that Nayuta later
learned was an identical copy of his mother’s. All except for his eyes. His eyes resembled those of
his biological father’s.

The boy was too close. It was too late for Nayuta to flee without him noticing and her making the
entire situation awkward. She stood her ground instead as she wiped her sweaty palms repeatedly
against her jean shorts. As a hot-blooded devil, shorts felt like heaven on a somewhat blustery
spring day.

“You’re not gonna believe my luck,” the boy continued. His cheeks were pinkened with exertion.
In his right hand, he held a greyish-white crayfish just behind its claws.

“I found what I was looking for! An adult female Cambaroides japonicus! Come see how big she
is!”

Angel stood and stepped into the cool water, wading to the boy in the calf-deep water as he used
his wings for balance. He stopped at a respectful distance away from the kid.

“She has all her eggs still under her long swimmerets! Look at them!”

The boy held the wriggling and quite upset crayfish upside down to show Angel the glistening
black roe affixed to the underside of her tail.

“Hm! Looks good enough to eat,” Angel drawled, though Nayuta noticed how the devil’s face
softened as he made the remark. “Are you going to cook it for us?”

“Not in a million years! These guys are endangered. I probably shouldn’t even be touching her.”

The boy dipped the crayfish into the water as he noticed Nayuta standing by a cedar tree on the
creek bank.

That was the moment Nayuta met the second member of the Hayakawa family. Taiyo.

His eyes widened with excitement as they met Nayuta’s.

“Are you Mitaka Fami’s older sister?” the boy asked with a grin.

“Taiyo—” Angel tried to interject.

“—Nayuta, right?” Taiyo interrupted. He spoke so familiarly that Nayuta felt the tips of her ears
turn red. She didn’t know she could blush until that moment.

Nayuta, suddenly shyer than she had been with Angel, nodded.

“Wanna come see what I got before I release her?”

“Taiyo—”

“Dad, it’s fine. If Fami’s cool, her sister’s gotta be cool too. Come on over, Nayuta! Be careful not
to touch my old man here.”

Despite Angel’s cool stare, Nayuta timidly made her way over to the pair.

She pulled off her shoes and socks and left them on the shore as she stepped into the water. She’d
slipped on these algae-covered slick rocks before and thus carefully made her way over to her two
neighbors. Now closer, Nayuta noticed that Taiyo was slightly taller than Angel but shorter than
her.

“She’s beautiful!” Nayuta breathed as she examined the crayfish firmly held in Taiyo’s hands. The
thrum of life was loud and vibrant in Nayuta’s ears. This mother’s brood was going to be big and
healthy.

“Isn’t she?—Oh, Nayuta, I can ask you a big favor?”

“Yes?”

“Can you reach into this pocket in my waders and grab my phone? I want a picture with me holding
her.”

“Taiyo—!”

“Oh, yeah. Should’ve asked—are you able to touch other people?”

“…Yes?”

The boy’s eyes brightened and a bigger smile spread over his face.

“Gotta ask, ‘cause I can’t touch Dad directly. You never know with people, you know?”

Nayuta got closer and reached into Taiyo’s pocket. As she fished his phone which was contained
within a waterproof sky blue case out of his pocket, the back of Nayuta’s hand pressed against his
outer thigh. Even though their skin was separated by cloth, his human blood pulsed through the
wiry muscles in a way that took Nayuta’s breath away. It was different than when she hugged her
mom, nor was it like when she held the fragile babies dropped off at the inn while her father
methodically got ready to transport the little one to Mom’s hospital.

One thing was clear. That was a sensation that she could quickly become addicted to.

“My phone’s unlocked.”

Nayuta swiped up and readied the camera.

Taiyo posed with a big dumb grin on his face.

“One, two, three,” Nayuta declared. She snapped the photo and dropped his phone back in his
wader’s pocket. Taiyo carefully righted the crayfish and set her back into the water.

“Thank you,” he said warmly.

“Sure,” Nayuta said awkwardly. Taiyo took a moment to examine her eyes.

Nayuta felt naked without her colored contacts. It was a suffocating feeling.

“I…I should get going,” she said with a confidence she didn’t feel.

“Wait! Fami told me you like zoology too—wanna trade numbers?”

“Uh—”

“—I’m really good at finding neat academic papers and animal memes. It would… it would be
nice to share them with someone who’s equally as nerdy about science as I am. Would…you be
interested in maybe becoming texting friends?”

“...Sure, I guess?”

Nayuta didn’t have a whirlwind teenage romance like her parents did. She didn’t find Taiyo in a
dumpster scavenging for scraps, bring him back to her apartment, and help him wash his hair.
Taiyo and her didn’t fall asleep in each other’s arms that first night, nor did they declare their
affection for each other after knowing each other for a little more than a week. She didn’t create a
contract to keep him alive. No blood was ever shed by either Nayuta or Taiyo for the other.

Taiyo’s relative normalcy, his sweet and outgoing nature, and his mildly chaotic tendencies to go
on impromptu adventures are what attracted her the most to him. He was simply a well-adjusted
and cheery human guy with three pretty cool parents who loved the crap out of him. Three unusual
retired Devil Hunters managed to raise a happy boy who was named after his biological father’s
now deceased little brother. Nayuta was proud of them.

Nayuta’s affection for the Hayakawa boy grew gradually, centimeter by centimeter, throughout the
years. They started out as constant texting companions. Soon, their friendship was nurtured through
game nights filled with tobacco smoke and cheap beer over at the Hayakawa residence down the
hill from the inn, hour-long FaceTime discussions about Iriomote cat sightings, and terrible
penguin jokes. When Taiyo went to the University of Tokyo as a biology major, he sent her photos
of him posing with little disgruntled-looking songbirds after they were caught and banded for his
lab’s study on their migration patterns. They brought much cheer to her otherwise dull job as a lab
technician. Little by little, Taiyo became her best friend, and she became his. They dated other
people, but Taiyo remained a positive constant in her life. He was the only human she’d willingly
show her spiraled eyes to.

Though her feelings became more and more tender as he grew older and more confident, Nayuta
was okay with that. She didn’t need to have him to be happy, or so she thought.

Everything came crashing down on the ninth anniversary of their first meeting in the forest.

“What do you mean, Taiyo’s out?”

Both Nayuta and Taiyo were in Taira for a week. Nayuta was back for two reasons. The first was
to celebrate Fami’s completion of her university degree in hospitality and the transition of the inn
from Papa’s to Fami’s ownership. The second was because Nayuta broke up with her most recent
partner. They’d been together for eight months—the longest time she’d managed to keep someone
of their own volition. It was an amicable enough breakup, but Nayuta was devastated. She
desperately needed a change of scenery.

Taiyo was in town to attend Fami’s party, but he was mainly there to visit his folks. His “Aunt
Power” was also visiting, but Nayuta knew that the fiend would be hanging out with her father that
evening. Papa got close to the Hayakawas as the years passed. Even the stuffy Angel softened up
to the four Mitaka daughters, partly thanks to how charismatic Mr. Mitaka was.

Taiyo texted her earlier that day, telling her to meet him at his parents’ place at 6:15.

It was now 6:27.

Rain pummeled down outside. Nayuta stood in the Hayakawa living room as water dripped down
her spine underneath her clothing. In her haste, she’d forgotten a raincoat.

“Do you know where Taiyo is?” Nayuta begged.

Hayakawa Aki, also known as “Father” by Taiyo and “Gun Fiend” by Uncle Hiro, kept his face,
and thus the gun barrel projecting out of his maxilla bone, pointed away from Nayuta. According to
Taiyo, Aki the fiend wasn’t exactly the human Aki that first his mother, then eventually Angel, fell
in love with. The original Aki was still in that body, but his presence came in waves.
Most days, he was quiet, speaking only when prompted with a question. He was almost a prop in
the dining room corner, though he unfailingly obeyed the housekeeping chores given to him. Some
days, though, he came alive. He’d smile, crack jokes, sing, cook, and even make coffee. The oddly
sunshiney personality could be attributed to the fragment of the Gun Devil embedded into his
body, but the cooking, Angel claimed, belonged undoubtedly to Aki.

Angel and Himeno were asleep on either side of him on the couch. Angel rested his head in Aki’s
lap, while Himeno rested her cheek against his outer shoulder. Angel hadn’t changed at all since
Nayuta first met him all those years ago, but Himeno had aged quite a bit. Her cane rested
precariously against the sofa arm. Power’s very elderly cat, Meowy, rested beside Himeno’s head
on the couch back.

“He said something…about a fox,” the Gun Fiend said in a dry, rusty-sounding, and rarely used
voice.

Nayuta’s stomach dropped. She knew where Taiyo was.

“Thank you, Mr. Hayakawa.”

“Should Angel…go with you?” the fiend asked slowly.

“No, let him sleep. I shall take my leave now.”

Nayuta pulled her hoodie over her head as she exited the Hayakawa residence. She ran to the
woods in her indoor trainers. There was no time to lose. As soon as she got underneath the tree
cover, Nayuta stopped under an aged maple, closed her eyes, and focused in on the sounds and
smells around her.

Humans weren’t like forest fauna. The smell and sounds they produced were sharp and distinct to
devils. Even better, Nayuta knew Taiyo like the back of her hand. His scent, his smell, his touch…
everything. She’d memorized it all.

Nayuta located the sound of his beating heart in a millisecond. It beat rapidly. She smelled his
adrenaline on the roof of her mouth.

Something was wrong. Nayuta ran along the marginally delineated dirt hiking path that she and
Taiyo made over the years, nearly slipping three times on fallen wet leaves and dead undergrowth.

The search took less than five minutes. He’d fallen down a section of steep creekbank and landed
in the water, luckily in a deeper area of the creek with no current. Taiyo spotted Nayuta before she
could say a word.

“Hello there, my dear!” he called out over the storm with a big grin. “Nice to see that you’ve
arrived!”

“How long have you been here? Nayuta shouted down the slope.

“Twenty minutes? Not too long.”

“That’s way too long!”

“I would’ve called, but my phone got wet. My case’s cracked, so water seeped in. Been meaning to
replace it. Sorry.”

The usually excellent outdoorsman that he was, Taiyo wore his insulated and waterproof wildlife
biologist work clothes. He floated on his back in the water as he held onto a sturdy tree root. Tayio
peered up at her with his gorgeous but uncovered eyes.

“Where’re your glasses?”

“No idea!”

One look downwards confirmed her fears. In the fall, his ankle twisted inward. It hung there
helplessly in the water.

“Don’t worry about this! Just need to rest it for a bit. I’ll move in a few minutes. I’m okay for
now.”

Taiyo was not okay. Nayuta tasted the fear and pain chemical signals he gave off. She heard the
internally pooling blood in his ankle that wasn’t circulating correctly through his body.

With her own heart fluttering like a panicked bird, Nayuta looked for a place where she could scale
down the slope. There was none nearby.

Something took over her brain just then—a heightened primal sensation overtook her mind. She
couldn’t control what happened next. Silver chains, like the one around Mom’s neck, appeared at
her fingertips and she grabbed at them. Millions of worker ants from dozens of species, from the
native big-headed Pheidole fervida and the black-boded Formica hayashi to the invasive
Solenopsis invicta, emerged from the earth and surrounded Taiyo.

“Nayu—!” Taiyo exclaimed in shock as he used her childhood nickname.

“Silence, human. Do not struggle. Do not speak.”

The voice coming from Nayuta’s mouth didn’t sound like her own. With microscopic pushes and
pulls on the chains, she could control these insects. Under her command, the insects swarmed
Taiyo, floating him on a raft of ants before dragging him up the slide of the slope. After they laid a
surprised Taiyo at Nayuta’s feet, they scattered and effectively disappeared from whence they
came. He lay there in shock for thirty seconds before speaking.

“Whoa…that was incredible. You can do stuff like that?”

The disgusting familiar feeling of shame and regret came over Nayuta’s body. She dropped to her
knees beside her best friend and grabbed the front of his worn-out jacket. It was the same one he
wore all those years ago when he caught a crayfish in that same creek. Tears stung in the corners of
her eyes as she realized that somehow, despite her hot-blooded nature, she was cold.

“Don’t. I beg of you, don’t you ever put yourself in circumstances where I have to do that again.
Understood?”

As rain dripped down her face, she couldn’t keep the tears from building up into a blur.

“Nayu…”

“You came out here because you heard those rumors about an Ogasawara giant bat in these woods.
Well? Am I right?”

Elsewhere in the world, that endangered bat species was known as the Bonin flying fox.

“You’re right,” Taiyo admitted quietly. His excitement could overtake his common sense.
“Taiyo…”

The urge to simultaneously shake and hug him was strong. As a compromise, she pressed her
forehead to his. She couldn’t stop shaking in her wet clothes.

“I’m sorry. I won’t bring it up again, I promise.”

Taiyo hugged her to him. Those pesky tears spilled down her cheeks.

“Nayu?”

Nayuta inhaled noisily. “Hm?”

“Can I tell you something important?”

“...Say it before I change my mind about listening.”

Waitlisted.

Nayuta stared at her phone with tears glistening in her eyes. She’d been too overconfident two
months ago, thinking she’d have a flawless wedding and admission into her graduate school of
choice for veterinary medicine before June rolled around. Glowing reviews from three of her
undergraduate professors, a solid transcript, a high GPA, and an excellent entrance exam score
apparently weren’t enough. The last year and a half had been too easy—too good to last.

Just my luck that I got the notification today of all days.

The email came through just as Fami finished the eyeliner on Nayuta’s left eye. Nayuta’s eyelids
always fluttered whenever she or someone else tried to apply liquid eyeliner to them. This was
Fami’s fourth attempt at her sister’s bridal eye makeup, only for it to be thwarted by a ping on
Nayuta’s phone.

“I…I got to go,” Nayuta said as she pulled on trainers and a hoodie. A bubble of excitement
threatened to burst in her chest as she got the email notification. She needed to get somewhere
private to read the news.

“Nayu, the ceremony is in four hours. You’re not even dressed, and—”

“I’m just popping by the diner! Gotta tell Madoka and Furuno the good news.”

“Hurry back, okay?”

“Won’t be more than fifteen minutes.”

Now she sat in the diner’s kitchen, nursing a cup of black coffee on a broken stool. To her utmost
embarrassment, it’d taken nearly two hours for Nayuta to collect herself. Madoka watched her
worriedly. She watched him age through annual trips with her mom to visit the old man and his
former buddy.

“Nayuta?”

Furuno burst through the swinging doors and into the kitchen.

“You have guests.”

Nayuta re-entered the dining area to find three intimidating young women with similar swirling
eyes standing in front of the diner’s front door. They were all dressed up in pale green bridesmaids'
dresses and heels.

Yoru led the pack.

“Mitaka Nayuta, or soon-to-be Hayakawa Nayuta. You told your little sister that you’d be back in
the dressing room in fifteen minutes,” Yoru began. The keen business executive she was, she
assumed a lazy power pose as she stood there. In another life, she would’ve become a defense
contractor for the government, but Uncle Hiro wouldn’t hear of it. Instead, Yoru went with her
second option and flourished.

“It’s been three hours,” Eri commented. Her littlest sister—the Death Devil herself—was a
prodigy. She traveled here all the way from Princeton, where she just began medical school with
the intent to become a hospice doctor. “I’m glad I brought my homework to bide the time.”

“Aw, Nayu, your makeup’s all messed up,” Fami commented as she consciously straightened the
tilt that she naturally kept her head at.

“If you’re not wanting this wedding, you better speak up now,” Yoru snapped. “We fought too hard
and for too long for you to marry this human. I want to see this endeavor all the way through.”

“Do you still want to marry Taiyo?” Fami asked gently.

“Of course, I want to marry Taiyo,” Nayuta retorted as she tried to keep her emotions under control.
Even though she was the second oldest in this life, she often felt like the youngest. The biggest
fuckup.

“Then why are you crying?”

“I got waitlisted, okay?”

The door swung open behind Nayuta’s three sisters.

Two older women entered the diner. Her mother, Mitaka Asa, and her mother-in-law, Hayakawa
Himeno.

“Waitlisted from grad school?” Mom asked, concern dancing in her eyes.

She looked regal in a forest green chiffon mother-of-the-bride dress. Her thin salt and pepper hair
was painstakingly curled.

Nayuta’s face screwed up as she nodded.

“Honey…” her mother pressed her hand to her daughter’s cheek.

“‘Waitlisted’ is not a ‘no.’ Even if it is a no, there is always next year and the year after that.
There’s no due date on that.”

“I—I—I know,” Nayuta sighed.

Mom smiled gently and dropped her hand.

“Do you still want to go through with the ceremony today?” Himeno asked.

Nayuta swallowed as she looked from each sister to both older women.
She was getting married. Against all odds, her—Nayuta—a devil—was set to marry a human—a
human she loved very much—today. A thrill of excitement ran down her back.

“Yes, I do.”

I love him.

“We’ll have to hurry then. Papa’s getting nervous,” Yoru said as she grabbed her little sister’s
hand. “Fami, ready the foundation. You’re gonna have to restart Nayu’s makeup in the car.”

“How’re you feeling?” Papa whispered as the bridal entrance music began to play just beyond the
chapel’s doors. He looked handsome in his black tuxedo. Mom even managed to tame his unruly
hair for the occasion. A single streak of bright white hair now started at his temple.

“...Pretty good?” Nayuta responded as she fidgeted with her veil one more time before she took the
awaiting bouquet from Papa’s hands. Fami arranged the sunflowers (Nayuta’s favorite), blue
cornflowers, and sprigs of lavender from the inn’s garden by herself.

“Just ‘pretty good?!’”

“Okay, okay. I’m pumped. Really, really excited.”

“That’s more like it.”

Papa smiled at Nayuta as she took his offered arm. The very first few fine wrinkles were beginning
to settle the corners of his mouth—right next to his dimples.

“Ready?”

“Ready.”

Her entrance music was just the instrumental version of the song, but Nayuta knew the lyrics by
heart. Her parents sang it to her before bed almost every single night of her childhood.

Is this the little girl I carried?

Is this the little boy at play?

(The father’s toothy smile closed, hiding his teeth as his sight became distant.)

I don't remember growing older

When did they?

(The mother gazed at her handsome husband and her beautiful daughter, who was dressed in a
sequined white gown, with blurry eyes. Her hands clutched her purse.)

When did she get to be a beauty?

When did he grow to be so tall?

(The father’s smile became wobbly as his eyes began to water.)

 Wasn't it yesterday that they were small?

(The mother quickly pulled out a handkerchief from her purse to wipe away a bothersome tear that
trickled out of the corner of her eye. She couldn’t ruin Fami’s painstakingly perfect makeup job.)

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly flow the days

(As the father-daughter pair arrived at the altar, the father looked at his daughter with watery eyes
and a sad smile. The bridegroom beamed at the sight of his bride.)

Seedlings turn overnight to sunflowers

Blossoming even as they gaze

(The father ran goofily in an unintentional manner down the aisle as he went to his designated
position, eliciting quiet laughs from two of his daughter’s new in-laws and Aunt Power.)

Sunrise, sunset

Sunrise, sunset

Swiftly fly the years

One season following another

Laden with happiness—

(From where she sat on the front pew, Asa turned around slightly to catch Denji’s eye. Their faces
erupted into knowing, but proud smiles as tears fell down their cheeks.)

and tears…

Chapter End Notes

Here is the song featured in this last scene.

Works inspired by this See

one Ya on the 7th, But I’ll Getcha on the 8th! by ElectroSeaSpectre, Stress
on the Heart by AloyoftheAlgae

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