Chapter Text
Denji never could remember the first part of his recurring dream. It always started somewhere in the middle, and always ended with the little orange creature with a chainsaw on its head declaring it would help him achieve his dream. In exchange, show me your dreams. The creature smiled.
Denji woke up with a jolt. There was no orange creature. No contracts. Just him, his sister Power, and the newspapers and broken bottles that made up the floor of their father’s apartment. There was no cover for the futon. No blankets, unless you counted the newspapers strewn about the floor.
He sighed. He ought to rest while the futon was available - any minute, their shitty Father would burst in, reeking of alcohol and stale cigarette smoke, and make his way over to the futon - the only one in the apartment. If he and Power were not quick to move, he would shove them out of the way on a good day. On bad ones, a new broken bottle would be added to the floor.
knock knock
Power and Denji both sat straight up, ice in their veins at the sound of the door. They scrambled out of the bed and huddled to the nearest corner.
“Powy, get behind me.” He said, shaking as he tried to put on a brave face. Denji always made sure he stood in front of Power, in case Father was feeling particularly violent that day. It was the reason he had far more scars than her, though, he supposed that was just the way things were with him being the oldest. He wasn’t sure by how much - He was probably about 12, but his Father never did tell him. Power was 9, from what he could recall, but again, there was probably nothing to back up the vague notion.
The sound repeated.
knock knock
Power and Denji shared a look, then crept toward the door. Usually if their Father left his keys, he would be hooting and hollering and slamming the door for them to open up. A knock was a rarity.
Denji stood up on his tip-toes, barely able to see out the door’s peephole. On the other side stood a tall man with blond-ish, slightly parted hair and a scar running across from the right side of his mouth, from what Denji saw.
Denji froze up. This must’ve been one of those mafia and yakuza type people his dad must have been working with. Maybe they’d finally had enough and came to take him and Power as ransom? Not like their deadbeat father would pay it, but Denji would rather not be a hostage one way or the other.
Denji fumbled around, picking up one of the broken bottles off the floor as Power looked on in horror.
“D-don’t come in! I’ll. . . I’ll kill you!” He cried, voice trembling as his empty threat reverberated through an equally empty house. “Our shitty dad wouldn’t pay ransom even if it were just 100 yen!”
There was an audible sigh on the other end of the door. “I’m not here to hurt ya, kid.” said the gravelly voice. “I’m with social services, I suppose. Your old man’s in the clink.”
“Huh?” He said, lowering the broken bottle in his hand. “You don’t look like one of those social service guys!” He yelled back.
“Damn scar. . .” He mumbled under his breath. “Look, your Dad got arrested and ratted out a whole nest of Mafia types. It definitely isn’t safe to stay here. I’m coming in, okay? Got your old man’s keys, so don’t be surprised.”
The door unlocked with a click.
The man took a deep breath, and looked upon the sorry state of affairs. Even his stony expression was somewhat moved. The room was dark, the air, stale. A total pigsty that, by itself, was enough proof for an abuse ruling. The boy had honey-brown eyes that looked like they had seen far too much for such a young age. The girl’s eyes were a darker, reddish brown, but both had a sort of glassy, fearful look to them. They both shared the same tousled, dirty blonde hair, with the boy’s hair short and wild, and the girl’s hair long and tangled, such that it was unlikely she had ever used a brush before.
Their clothes were in tatters, too. Both wore ill-fitting garments streaked with grime and riddled with holes. The only accessory between the two of them was a headband that the girl wore on her head, meant to resemble a pair of stubby red devil’s horns, though the thing had long since lost its hue, looking more like a sun-bleached plastic pink.
Momentarily, he was at a loss for words. After a short while, he shook himself back into reality. “Hey, relax, kid. You can put that thing down.” He motioned to the broken bottle in Denji’s still-shaking hands.
“Are you really not one of the gang people?” Power asked, peeking over Denji’s shoulder.
“No, I'm not.” He pulled out a professional-looking piece of plastic from his coat pocket.
“What does that say?” Denji asked, squinting.
“Kishibe. My name, my credentials. . . Did you two not learn to read in school?” He asked as gently as he could manage with his voice and appearance.
“Nuh-uh.” The siblings shook their heads. “Me ‘n Powy never went to school or nothin’.”
“Powy?” He asked plainly.
“ ‘Tis I” She chirped from behind Denji. “It stands for Power!”
“And your name, Kid?” Kishibe asked, pulling out a paper pad and pen from his coat pocket.
“Denji.” He said, relaxing slightly.
“No surname?”
“No what?” He asked, confused.
“Right.” Kishibe nodded, jotting something down. “Well, don’t worry about it. You’ll just take the surname of whoever adopts ya, I guess.”
“Adopt? You mean. . .?” Denji started.
“Yep. We’re gettin’ ya outta here, both of ya.”
Denji and Power looked at each other in disbelief.
The two siblings shared the biggest, toothiest grin Kishibe had ever seen. Just a moment of pure disbelief and joy. It was moments like that that almost made his job worth it. Almost. He was still gonna drink ‘till he couldn’t feel his face when he got home, but he at least felt like he’d earned it today.
***
The weeks that followed were tumultuous ones. It was an unusual case, dealing with 2 kids who’d never been accounted for, as far as he could tell. Getting them cleaned up and sorted out was a matter in and of itself, say nothing of getting them to an adoption center.
Though, much to Kishibe’s surprise, the pair were adopted almost immediately - a rarity, for sure. The Hayakawa family had adopted them, from what he was told. They’d already had 2 kids of their own, both older than Denji and Power, though the younger one was close to Denji’s age. The parents both seemed to be kind and stable enough to provide for another 2 kids, so the adoption center was all too happy to give them away without much fuss. He was just glad to see the two of them wouldn’t be treated like “throwaway kids” as orphans.
***
It was a normal day for Denji and Power. They were totally unprepared to be whisked away in such a short timeframe, though they were quite happy to be out of their previous situation.
A woman with dark, long hair and a flowy dress approached the two of them, her husband trailing close behind. Something about the two blonde, bedraggled kids caught her eye. Something that triggered a response akin to “oh, you poor things!” Thankfully by this point, the two of them had been thoroughly cleaned up (much to Power’s chagrin) and were dressed in actual, fitting clothes. The only holdover from their old life mere weeks ago was Power’s battered old devilish headband.
“Oh, sweetie, would you look at those two?” She pointed.
The man nodded sagely.
“Oh, I have always wanted a girl . . . oh, and the boy looks to be around Taiyo’s age, don’t you think?” Her eyes darted back and forth between the two of them. “Hello! My name is Mrs. Hayakawa, what’re your names, kids?”
“Denji.” He said plainly, flashing a peace sign.
“Power!” Power cried.
One of the workers spoke up. “Well actually, on the documents they wrote Chi-”
“Power! My name’s Power!” She repeated. It was an old mantra of hers that stuck. If she was power itself, then surely she could survive anything. That was what she told herself in that old, damp apartment.
The woman’s face was somewhat surprised by Power’s display of bravado, but her smile remained, just the same. “Well, that’s lovely! You’re full of energy, huh?”
Power nodded, beaming with some sort of weird pride. “Just so you know, we’re a package deal! If you want me, you also have to put up with Denji, even if he is infewior!” She said, flubbing the pronunciation at the very end in a manner that made her overconfidence all the more endearing to Mr. and Mrs. Hayakawa.
The parents turned to face one another, whispering something, then motioned for one of the workers. After a few moments that felt like eons, the worker produced a bulletin from one of the filing cabinets in the back room and gave a tower of forms for the parents to sign.
“Well, kids, looks like you lucked out!” Said the worker. “Fastest I’ve ever seen two kids come in and leave this place.”
Denji and Power exchanged a confused look.
“They’re adopting you.” He said plainly.
Denji’s eyes went wide. Really? That was all it took? He thought for sure Power’s brashness would be off-putting, but it appeared to have become their ticket to a better life.
“Sweetie, shouldn’t we Have Aki and Taiyo meet them first?” Mr. Hayakawa whispered.
“Oh, I’m sure they’ll get along fine! Taiyo’s always wanted a younger sibling!”
“What about Aki?”
“Well, he’s at a sensitive age, but with a bit of time, he’d get along with them just fine.” Mrs. Hayakawa insisted. “It’ll be good for everyone, I think.”
And just like that, Denji and Power gained the Surname “Hayakawa”. The car ride home was unreal to them - they’d only been on the train once, and never in a car of any sort. Mrs. Hayakawa was insistent upon renting a car to pick them up with, rather than going by train.
It was surreal - like everything Denji had ever wanted was coming true - a nice, ordinary life was just a short car ride away. His heart was practically beating out of his chest, which made it hard for him to focus when his newfound parents tried making small talk.
“. . . right?” Said Mr. Hayakawa, not looking up from the road.
“Huh?” Denji said, attempting to soften the drumbeat of his heart.
“You kids haven’t been to school before, right?” He asked again.
“Nope.” He said.
“Never!” Power said, words slightly muffled by the fact that her face was glued to the window.
“Well, we’ll have to hire a tutor, I guess. . . Glad I got that raise, I suppose.” Mr. Hayakawa chuckled. It wasn’t cheap to raise a kid, especially one without prior education.
“Tutor?” The siblings said in unison.
“They’re like a person who teaches you outside of school.” Mrs. Hayakawa explained. “It’s not a big deal, we promise.” She smiled.
Denji nodded, then returned to staring out the window. He truly had no idea how much went into this “normalcy” he was so unfamiliar with. At the very least, it seemed a hell of a lot better than what they were used to.