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A car horn blares in the night. Yoshida turns over to face away from his bedroom window. He's been pulling all-nighters, and he won't let anything as banal as unusual traffic get between him and the sweet release of sleep.
Another horn. Then another, and another. Experience tells him this is not a good sign. He opens his eyes and gets up to check what's causing the commotion.
He realises the answer is coming to meet him soon, whether he likes it or not – he's barely slipped on his emergency pair of shoes when metallic crashes and a chorus of screams rise from the streets below.
He wears his knife scabbard, throws open the window, and crosses his fingers. Octopus' tentacle wraps tight around his torso and lowers him to the ground outside.
There's a trail of strewn cars and strange gashes in the pavement. It can only be a devil's work.
Someone trapped inside one of the cars screams.
Before Yoshida can find the source, the devil does. A thin metal spike skewers the car's window and the scream is cut short.
A rubbery membrane connects the spike to the devil slinking back onto the main road, into Yoshida's line of sight.
"Ink!"
At his command, Octopus blasts ink at the slug-like creature. Dark liquid drips off the metal needles sprouting from its gelatinous body. But it doesn't stop its advance.
A large tentacle launches a chunk of concrete debris at it, aiming for its soft flesh. The devil yanks out its bloodied spike from the car and bats away the projectile without missing a beat.
It has no eyes, Octopus tells Yoshida.
As if the spring wind isn't cold enough through his pyjamas, a chill runs down his spine.
He watches the devil's needles twitch in its flesh. It hears, Octopus confirms.
They'll have to be quiet to catch this one off guard. If it can sense vibrations from the ground, their best bet is to attack from above.
Octopus' tentacles are ready to toss him up to the halfway point of a building's fire escape. Then, he hears a squelch.
The inside of his shoe is warm and wet. He looks down and sees a needle‐spike pierced straight through a tentacle and into his leg.
He grabs onto the closest stable object, a wire fence, and pulls out the spike with his free hand. But it's too late – the devil tasted fresh blood and knows where to find more.
Octopus shields Yoshida from more of the devil's attempts to pinpoint his location. Needles and their attached tendrils end up tangled in the fence.
It's cornering them. He needs to make a run for it.
Yoshida is mid‐sprint when the devil retracts its spikes and the fence gives way.
Like he's caught in a net behind a trawler, it scoops him up. He's thrown down the road, tumbling nearer and nearer to that spiky blob from hell.
Just in time, a tentacle pulls him out from under the broken fence. He hits the ground running and stumbles for cover behind a row of parked bicycles.
Catching his breath, he takes stock of his injuries and hopes the devil can't smell blood.
He tries to stand up, but lights flood his vision.
If Public Safety doesn't get here in time... he thinks, and doesn't finish.
The last thing he hears before he collapses is a motor revving.
The sky is dark, starless. Yoshida almost doesn't notice he's opened his eyes. His neck hurts too much to move his head. He glances to the side and recognises his neighbourhood under the street lamps' dim glow.
He notices pressure on his left arm and sees it's coming from a blood‐stained tentacle, squeezing like a tourniquet. His sleeve is soaked through.
His legs are stretched out and his feet propped up on a...fallen bicycle? He remembers now, how he ended up here after almost getting harpooned by a devil.
Yoshida tries to sit up, shifting onto his right elbow. Suddenly, a pair of hands grip his shoulders from behind.
"Who- Agh! Shit," he hisses, instantly regretting his decision to turn and look back.
"You really took a beating, huh?" says a familiar voice.
"Denji?"
Denji helps him back down, then sits on the ground by his side. He's in a Chainsaw Man shirt, sweatpants, and sandals, as if he went out to the convenience store for a midnight snack. He doesn't look any worse for wear.
"Chainsaw Man saved your ass. Finished that needle devil like-" Denji karate chops the air, then cuts across his own neck with his thumb.
"Hm. You got to see him in action? Amazing."
"Yeah, I was real lucky. It's not like I knew he was here 'cause I followed a bunch of fans who spotted the guy in broad daylight. I just happened to still be here after everyone else ran away from the devil. Would you believe it?"
"Unbelievable."
"Anyone who didn't know better," Denji points to himself, "they'd think I was Chainsaw Man!"
"Not on my watch."
Denji just looks at Yoshida, unbothered. Something's different about him. He moves and sounds like he's had a couple of espresso shots, but Yoshida knows for sure he doesn't drink coffee. It's like he didn't fight a devil at all.
An ambulance's siren fades into earshot.
"That's your ride. See ya." Denji stands up, picks up a rucksack he set down somewhere behind Yoshida, and walks off without another word.
The paramedics are already unloading a stretcher when Denji comes running back.
"Uh, I forgot. This is yours," he says, pulling out Yoshida's knife holster from his bag.
Yoshida takes it and wonders when it fell off. There's a fresh stab wound on his thigh thanks to that devil, so it's back to wearing his knife on his belt for now.
In the hospital's toilet, Yoshida examines himself in the mirror.
Luckily, the doctor said he didn't get much muscle damage underneath the bleeding. The devil's eerie accuracy at hitting veins was to blame for the mess.
His face is nearly clean, which is odd, considering the scratches. He knows he felt blood drip into his eye at some point, after his tumble down the road.
His lips are dry, so he instinctively licks them. Upon seeing his own action in the mirror, he knows yet another thing.
He smiles, because it's a very interesting thing.
His superiors don't need to know it.