Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aki goes limp in Denji’s arms.

The world around them is falling apart. People scream, children cry, and buildings crumble as everyone unfortunate enough to be in their vicinity experiences a brand of grief and terror that will haunt them for the rest of their lives. Denji doesn’t pay attention to any of it. He doesn’t care. In that moment, all that exists to him is the blood covering his chainsaws, the tears dripping down his face and throat, and the feeling of Aki, fading, fading, fading—

At first, Denji thinks that he feels Aki’s mass shifting because he has fallen to his knees. He looks up at the sky and cries in a way he never has before, in a way that he never thought he ever would. Something close to him is shuffling, dangerously close, but it doesn’t matter. Aki is dead, and there are so many things that Denji should have told him, but now he will never get the chance. Aki is dead and he is never coming back. Aki is dead because Denji killed him. He’s dead and his body is right there, and Denji doesn’t want to look, but—

He has to, doesn’t he? Because if he doesn’t look now, he might never get to see his face again. Even if it’s the mangled face of the Gun Fiend, that’s better than nothing. ‘Cause the earlier he looks away, the sooner he’ll forget what he looked like in the first place, and then he’ll be gone for real, but Denji will still be there, sitting in a crumbling world.

He wishes one of the buildings would collapse on him.

They don’t. Denji remains untouched save for the bullet holes riddling his body as he forces himself to look at Aki’s corpse one last time. He takes in the organs dangling from his stomach, the blood slowly oozing from the myriad wounds, the way it seems to sway—

No, not sway. Shrink.

The crumbling world seems to freeze as Aki’s corpse shrinks and contorts. Denji watches, breath caught in his throat, as the fiend disappears beneath the pile of Aki’s ruined suit. Denji kneels there, paralyzed, as the pile of fabric writhes. When it finally stills, what had been Aki’s body has become a familiar round shape. Denji feels his heart beat faster, feels his mouth open slightly, and distantly realizes that he has retracted. However, he does not move until there is a whimper. In a frantic scramble, Denji tugs Aki’s abandoned shirt back to reveal—

Pochita.

Except it’s not Pochita. Where Pochita was bright orange, the devil before him is a familiar shade of bluish-black. Its tail isn’t a handle, but an ammunition belt. The barrel of a gun protrudes from its forehead, and it is pointing at Denji, but a pair of devastatingly familiar blue eyes rest under that gun. Those eyes blink up at him, watering with the threat of tears about to be shed. It worsens as they dart about, taking in the chaos surrounding them. As the devil shakes, Denji cannot tell it is out of fear, injury, exhaustion, or any combination thereof. It is already laying flat on its stomach, but as he watches, it flattens itself closer to the ground with a terrible moan, and—

“Fuck!”

Quick as a flash, Denji grabs the tiny thing, stuffs it under his shirt, and makes a run for it. His entire body aches and his steps are staggering and lopsided, but he does not care. He cannot afford to care. Right now, all that matters is getting out of sight and away from the people who would gladly kill Aki—

The Gun Devil—

Whatever the thing in his arms is.

He can deal with everything else later.

Chapter Text

Denji is exhausted by the time he allows himself to rest.

He is far away from the site of Aki’s destruction. Far away from Public Safety, far away from the police, far away from wherever Power could have run off to. There are a hundred things flying through his head as he staggers into an abandoned old warehouse, most of them devastating. He copes by clinging to the one thing that gives him some molecule of hope. Leaning heavily against the wall, he slides down onto the cold concrete ground. There, he carefully pulls out the devil that he’s stuffed under his shirt.

The thing is shaking like a leaf. Tear tracks run down its furry face. Blood mats the fur of its pelt. The wounds that it seeps out of aren’t as severe as the ones that Denji had left on Aki, but they’re still bad.

How didn’t he notice before? He should have noticed before. If he dies—

Denji cuts the thought off before it can fully manifest. He wraps one arm around the crying devil, cradling in his lap, and raises his other arm to his mouth. He’s already bleeding from plenty of wounds, but that doesn’t feel enough. The blood needs to be fresh. If it isn’t fresh, it might not be good enough, and if it isn’t good enough, he might lose — whatever it is he has in his lap.

Denji tears a cut in his hand with his teeth. The second he feels blood dripping down his arm, he shoves that hand in the devil’s face.

The devil scoots back.

“C’mon,” Denji says, shaking his hand. “It’s for you. Drink up.”

Watery blue eyes peer up at him. Then they’re wandering, across his body, the blood staining his clothes, the bullet holes still in the process of closing up—

Oh.

“This is nothing!” Denji exclaims. “I can shake it off no problem. The important thing right now is getting you on your feet.”

He presses his hand closer to the devil.

It presses itself closer to Denji’s legs with a whine. The movement jostles one of the wounds carved into its side, causing a fresh stream of blood to seep through.

“Please,” Denji says, and he doesn’t realize that he’s crying again until it’s hard to speak. “I don’t wanna lose you too. Please, A— Please.”

The devil lifts its head. It peers up at Denji through hazy blue eyes before scooting forward and finally, finally, taking a few tentative licks of the blood on his hand. Before he knows it, those licks have evolved into sucking on his wound, and Denji’s tears are flowing even harder.

“I-I’m gonna call you Aki, alright?” he chokes out. “Just in case…”

The devil’s wounds look like they have closed up.

Denji hugs him close to his chest in lieu of finishing his sentence.

Chapter Text

Keeping Aki hidden isn't easy. Denji spends the entire time before they get settled into their new apartment feeling like he's on the verge of a heart attack. He wishes that he could say he relaxes once they're safely moved in, but the diminished threat just allows everything else he's feeling to wash over him in full force. 

He tries not to think about it, not to feel it. 

He's really bad at it. 

So he tries to keep himself distracted, if not with Aki, who has been a quiet, despondent shell of a thing pretty much since he got him, then with Power. 

She doesn't say anything much about Aki. She doesn't acknowledge him at all, really. 

Up until she does. 

“Why have you kept that thing?” she hisses, yellow eyes flicking anxiously between Denji and Aki, who is curled up in a desolate ball on their newly-obtained couch. If he hears her unkind words, he doesn't give any sign of it. 

In case he can, in case he's not wrong to hold out hope, Denji asks, “What do you mean? It's Aki.”

Power scowls, hands on her hips. “That thing looks nothing like Topknot.”

Denji scowls right back. “Yeah, and you probably don't look much like the Blood Devil. Doesn't mean it's not him.”

“And if it is the Gun Devil?” 

“What if it's not ? Are you really okay with turning Aki away because you got anxious?”

Power falters. Her arms drop down to her sides, teeth worrying at her lower lip. When she looks away before speaking, Denji knows that it's going to be bad. 

“This hurts, Denji,” she whispers. “I want Aki back, as he was. I do not want to contend with your uncertainties, too.”

“I know. Powy–” Denji reaches for her shoulder, only for her to shrug his touch away. He swallows heavily and lowers his arm back to his side. “Even if he's not… All him… He's not hurting anyone, alright? So just leave him be.”

Power eyes him for a moment, a pained glimmer in those yellow depths, before stalking off without another word. 

Denji watches her go, then sits down next to Aki. “Hey,” he whispers. “You okay?” 

He reaches out a trembling hand. 

Aki shifts away from his touch, watery eyes and head gun locked on the floor in front of him. 

“Alright,” Denji murmurs. “Well, I'll be here when you wanna… Talk.”

Chapter Text

Denji gently rinses the dried blood out of Aki’s fur. He probably should have done it sooner, but he had to get a new apartment, and smuggle Aki into that new apartment, and make sure that Power’s okay with him, and he just… forgot. Or figured that Aki would take care of himself. Or any other excuse that’s just as pointless as the next. At the end of the day, the miserable truth of the matter is the same. Denji’s on the verge of crumbling and most of the time it takes everything he’s got to keep from collapsing completely.

But he’s doing it now. That has to count for something. Maybe not much, definitely not enough, but something.

Aki won’t look him in the face. He sits in Denji’s lap, lets the warm water of the bath wash over his fur, but looks away whenever he tries to make eye contact. It could be Aki behavior. He can’t imagine that he’s feeling very good right now, between ending up like this and almost dying and turning into the gun fiend and whatever the hell happened to turn him into the gun fiend in the first place. But it could also just be…

Fuck.

Denji’s hand stills. Aki doesn’t react, but then again, he doesn’t react to very much these days.

“Hey,” Denji tentatively begins. “Aki…”

The little devil’s head shifts his way. He doesn’t look him in the eyes, but it’s close enough.

“Are you…” Denji’s throat hurts. His eyes sting. He clears his throat and blinks a few times, because he’s already done enough crying these past few days and isn’t going to let himself do any more when he doesn’t know if there’s even a point. “It’s still you in there, right?”

For the first time since carrying him into the bath, Aki makes a noise. He whimpers. He shrinks in on himself, scoots away from Denji, and makes a noise like he’s the one who’s been shot. One paw slips off the edge of his leg; Denji lurches forward to grab him before he can slip into the tub.

“Woah!” Denji exclaims, cradling the devil to his chest. He runs his hand through his wet fur, feeling his shaking worsen. He already knows that there isn’t a thing he can do to keep the whimpering from turning into crying, but he still tries, hastily saying, “It’s okay, okay? Even if you aren’t completely the original Aki, you can stay here, okay? You’re safe. I’ll still… I’ll still take care of you.”

Aki presses his cheek against Denji’s chest, coming about as close as he can to burying his face with the pistol blocking the way, and sobs.

Denji holds him and doesn’t shed any tears of his own.

He isn’t going to cry again any time soon.

He isn’t.

Chapter Text

It is the middle of the night. Power is screaming bloody murder as she writhes in their shared bed, still too caught up in her nightmare to recognize the world around her. Denji clings onto her, rubbing her arms, making gentle sounds, and uttering reassurances, but nothing he tries does a damn thing to help. With a sinking feeling, he acknowledges that maybe there isn’t anything that he can do at all.

But he has to try. After all, this is his own fault, isn’t it? It’s been weeks since Power has had a nightmare. Denji is the fool who let himself believe that meant they were over. He should have known that Aki’s death would bring them back full force. He should have, but he didn’t, and now Power’s screaming and crying and Denji’s totally unprepared. He’s trying, dear god is he trying, but it’s starting to feel more and more like nothing in the world can calm her down.

Denji doesn’t acknowledge that slight shift in weight as something climbs onto the futon. He doesn’t realize what it is until he sees a small, round, shadowed figure padding up to Power. When his tired mind manages to process it, he tenses up, because he may have fucked up before, but he isn’t going to let both of them get hurt tonight.

“Hey,” Denji hisses. “I don’t think that’s a good idea!”

Aki completely ignores him, crawling up to gently nuzzle at Power’s face.

“ Seriously , she’s not gonna—”

The screaming stops. Power lets out a series of ragged gasps, during which Aki presses himself in the space between her head and shoulder, carefully maneuvering his head to keep from hitting her with his pistol. Finally, Power blinks tears out of her eyes and gasps, “A-Aki?”

Aki lets out a sad little whine.

Power starts crying again. It’s a different sort of crying this time, desperate, hoarse, and pained, but raw in a way that can only stem from an unbreakable connection to reality. Denji begins to wonder if he might actually be asleep when she rolls over and grabs onto Aki, holding him close to her chest and sobbing into his fur.

Aki tolerates it, leaning closer into what can only be an uncomfortably tight embrace. In the darkness, Denji can make out blue eyes drifting toward him, only to meet his gaze and dart away twice as quickly.

Slowly, Power’s crying subsides. Her grip on Aki loosens, but he remains right where he is. Eventually, she starts to drift off to sleep again. At some point after that, Aki rests his head on her hand and closes his eyes. The whole time, Denji watches, not quite sure what he is watching.

The scene doesn’t change.

He can’t tell if Aki is actually asleep or not. After considering it for a little while, he decides that he isn’t willing to risk waking him up to find out.

Denji settles back down and tries to fall asleep again.

It isn’t a restful sleep. It’s still better than anything he’s had in nearly a week.

Chapter Text

Aki is asleep. It doesn't look particularly peaceful – he twists and twitches, occasionally lets out a low, murmuring whimper – but that's been true of every time he's dozed off since he got home. It's not enough to make Denji feel inclined to wake him up. It's too much to let him look away. He stares, heart even heavier than his eyes, and wonders if he should try to go to sleep too.

He probably shouldn't. It's morning. Power's already up, and if Power's up and moving, that means that it's high time for everyone else to follow suit. 

Aki should already be up by now. The human Aki would have been up a long time ago. If this Aki is still asleep, does that mean… 

The sound of footsteps makes Denji look up. Power leans in the doorway, looking between Aki and Denji with some mix of sorrow and judgment. It's a serious expression that looks wrong on her. She's been making a lot of faces that look wrong on her lately. 

“You still doubt that he is Aki,” she says eventually. 

Denji scowls up at her. “What the hell do you mean? You're the one who wanted to kick him out ‘cause you thought he was the Gun Devil!” 

“I did no such thing!” Power exclaims, affronted. “I always knew the round crybaby was Topknot! ‘Tis you who wallows in your pitiful human doubts!” 

There’s no point in picking this fight. With a sigh, Denji lets it go, lets himself be the bad guy, the wretched little bastard who can’t see that the Pochita-like creature curled up on the bed is still the Aki he knew even though it’s so damn obvious .

Because he’s already the bad guy, there’s no harm in asking. “How do you know he’s still the same Aki?”

Power sniffs imperiously. “Because I am wiser than you in all imaginable ways.”

Of course . Denji doesn’t know what else he expected.

Power walks over to the futon. Denji moves to make room for her, only to realize that Aki is small enough now that he doesn’t need to make room for her. He settles back down on his side, his hand drifting down to idly run through Aki’s fur.

It feels like velvet.

“Why are you doubtful?” Power asks, in a tone just soft enough to make Denji feel awful. Because it shouldn’t matter, should it? He’s already promised to take care of the little devil, whether he’s still Aki or only a part of him or not him at all. 

But if he isn’t Aki, if he’s really gone, that means. 

Denji rolls over to stare at the ceiling. “I tried asking if he’s still him,” he murmurs. “He didn’t– I think he understood what I was sayin’, but he didn’t say that he’s him.”

Power makes a dismissive sound. “Hysterics.”

Denji rolls his head over to look at Power. She’s laying down now, one arm crooked around Aki in a way that will wake him up with one wrong move.

“Huh?” Denji asks.

“Topknot has always been a pitiful, small-minded human. He has fallen into a foolish panic over his new state, and you are the fool giving him credit where he deserves none.”

Denji doesn’t know what to say to that. Power has a point, probably. She might even be right . But as Denji stares down at Aki, it doesn’t connect. He knows what he wants to see, but it’s so hard to look at the tiny furred devil, a creature that’s barely moved or reacted to anything in the days they’ve had him, it’s hard to connect him back to the fearless human he knew. He loves Power, sure, but what if it’s just a coincidence? What if the old Aki was erased in a haze of blood and bullets and screaming and chainsaws and laughter? What if Denji k–

“Idiot. If you do not correct thyself, you will face almighty punishment at my hand.”

Power stands up and scoops Aki in from the bed. He stirs slowly, blinking up at her with bleary blue eyes. When he starts to squirm and let out a whine of question or complaint, Power holds him tighter and starts walking out of the room. “No. We are going to watch entertaining programs and you will cease your sulking.”

Power and Aki disappear.

Denji rolls onto his back again.

He’ll get out of bed in a little bit.

Chapter Text

Denji isn't a very good cook. 

He can't tell if Aki is judging him for it. He hopes not. Or, if he is, he hopes that he can tell that he's trying his best. He hopes that, when he says that he's going to get better, he knows that he means it. 

The little devil doesn't make a sound as Denji slowly works through the process of making omurice. Every few minutes, he gets anxious and glances at Aki, just to make sure that he's still there. Every time, he finds that Aki hasn't moved a muscle. He sits on his cushion on the seat that Denji and Power have declared his, curled up in a little ball, eyes glued to the ground in front of him. 

Denji wishes he would look at him more. 

He understands why he won't. If Power's right and he really is the same old Aki inside, he understands why he wouldn't be taking this too well. 

The smell of something bitter pulls Denji out of his latest round of Aki-staring. With a curse, he scrapes the unformed omelette out of the frying pan. It's a little burnt on one end, and when he rolls it together, the ends crumble onto the plate, but it looks edible. After he adds the ketchup, he can even say that it's one of the better things he's made. 

It's nowhere near as good as Aki's cooking though. 

“I really should've paid more attention when you tried to teach me to cook, huh?” Denji calls out. 

Aki doesn't make so much as a sound to indicate that he's listening. 

He almost never does. 

Denji tries not to think about why that might be.

He cuts the omelette in half and moves one side onto another plate. The halves are mostly equal, which means one of them is probably too big, but that's fine because Aki has barely been eating anything at all. If he's able to get the entire thing down, Denji much feel a little less like he's made out of glass. Plastering a smile on his face, he grabs a pair of forks from the draw and walks over to the kabudai. 

Aki doesn’t look up when he sets the plates down. 

The smile fades. 

“C'mon,” Denji says, sitting down beside Aki. “You haven't eaten in, like, way too many hours. You've gotta be hungry, right?” 

Denji scoops up a forkful of omurice and holds it in front of Aki. 

He's met with a blank stare. 

Denji tries not to get caught up in the feeling of his heart sinking. “Don't try to tell me you aren't hungry. Pochita ate more than you and we were starving.” He wiggles the fork enticingly.

Aki's eyes narrow slightly. Otherwise, he doesn't move. 

Denji tries the thing that got Aki to open his mouth when he got stubborn past the point of safety the last few times. “Please?”

Aki slowly looks between the fork and the plate sitting on the table in front of them. After glancing between them a few times, he lets out a beleaguered sigh and leans forward to nibble at the edge of the omelette. 

“Oh,” Denji says, setting the fork back down on the side of the plate. 

As he walks back over to his seat, Denji rakes his mind trying to figure out which would be more humiliating to Aki, being spoon-fed for the rest of his life or having to eat without hands. 

He can't tell. 

It probably shouldn't matter. At least he's eating. 

Chapter Text

“You should let me dress you,” Power says.

Aki lets out a muffled whine-grumble that can only be disagreement.

“Why not?” Power asks, running her fingers down his spine. “Do you prefer to be naked now?”

Aki’s grumbling morphs into the closest thing to a growl that Denji’s heard from him yet. He tilts his head up to glower at Power. His head is canted slightly to the side so that his pistol is not pointed at her face, but with narrowed eyes and a slightly-twisted upper lip, the annoyed effect is the same none the less. “I would understand if you did, human clothing is needlessly restrictive, but you struck me as the sort of prude who enjoys being clothed. I already purchased garments for Nyako. We could take one and—”

Aki clambers out of Power’s lap. Denji spreads his arms out for him, but is met with a glare.

“C’mon,” Denji says, “She wasn’t trying to insult you or anything.”

Aki lets out another huff, but sits down a few feet away from Denji and Power rather than leaving the room outright. 

“Fussy creature,” Power mutters.

“C’mon, Powy,” Denji says, rounding on the now-pouting blood fiend. “You can’t expect him to wear pet clothes. That’s, like, embarrassing.”

Power shoots him a look that’s somewhere between a scowl and a pout. “What other options does he have?”

“Uuh…” Denji slowly turns toward Aki, who has switched to staring at the wall. If he weren’t all round and pudgy, he might look a little imperious. He still manages to remind him of how the human Aki would act when he got really annoyed and tried to pretend that Denji and Power don’t exist. He reminds him of Pochita when he used him a little too carelessly while cutting trees and then didn’t do a good enough job of grooming the wood chips out of his fur.

The former makes him think that maybe he should just leave him alone for a little while.

The latter makes him reach over to pat his head.

Aki shuffles out of his reach, but otherwise doesn’t acknowledge his existence.

Denji lowers his arm with a sigh. “Maybe we could get him something tailored?”

“Do tailors make clothing in his shape?” Power asks, puzzled.

“Sure they do!” Denji exclaims. “And…”

They can afford it with the money from Aki’s will.

A fresh wave of pain threatens to rise up within Denji. He swallows it up and asks, “What do you think, Aki?”

Aki shoots him one last unimpressed look before walking out of the room.

“I think that’s a ‘no’,” Denji mutters.

“He will come around,” Power smugly says. “You simply don’t know him like I do.”

Chapter Text

Aki is taking a nap. That part is pretty common these days. When Denji and Power aren’t actively pestering him, he goes into the bedroom and curls up in a little gun ball. Sometimes, when he stays that way for long enough, he dozes off. A lot of his time is passed that way. Denji isn’t quite sure that it’s a healthy way to pass the time, but he generally can’t bring himself to wake him up.

It also isn’t unusual for Aki to twitch a little in his sleep. However, that Denji sees today is something else. He twitches and whines and whimpers like he’s under attack, and where normally Denji wouldn’t dare bother him, today it’s just too much. 

He lays a hand on a fuzzy flank. Aki’s twitching stops, but the whimpering continues. Denji can see his eyes rolling behind his eyelids. Are there tears building behind them? He doesn’t think he wants to know, but he isn’t willing to hide in blissful ignorance. “Aki,” he whispers, moving his hand up to gently shake his shoulder.

Aki jerks upright with a sharp yelp. He looks anxiously around the bedroom, eyes just as watery as Denji had imagined they’d be. It’s all that he can do to put on a strained smile when Aki’s attention settles at him. He doesn’t realize that the pistol is pointed right at him until Aki sharply jerks his head away, at which point Denji’s disappointed that he’s gone back to not looking at him.

“Hey,” Denji softly says. “It’s okay. I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me or anything.”

Aki doesn’t respond.

“C’mon.” Denji hooks his hands under Aki’s forearms and pulls him onto his lap. Aki lets out a low grumble of discontent, but doesn’t protest. Denji can feel his muscles relax as he runs a hand down his spine. It’s almost enough to make him feel a little less worried.

That’s something, right? If he worries a little less, maybe they can start to go back to normal. If he can make Aki a little less miserable, maybe he can stop feeling so much like his world’s falling apart.

“Bad dream?” Denji asks, steadily stroking Aki’s spine.

Aki lets out a low grumble that Denji takes as a confirmation. His gaze is locked on his feet. He’s been going out of his way to keep from pointing his gun at Denji this entire time, but it seems like he doesn’t have any reservations about pointing it at his own tiny little toes.

“D’you wanna talk about it?” Denji asks.

Aki looks up at him with narrowed eyes. His fur is brustling a little but, the funny little tufy of fur on his head flattened back a bit. For the first time, Denji finds that he can actually read him, the same way that he used to be able to reach Pochita. It should have been a relief. Under any other circumstances, the blatant display of disgruntlement would be funny, too. Instead, he gets an urgent question pushing itself to the forefront of his mind once again.

For once, he actually has the courage to ask it.

“Aki?” he tentatively begins.

Aki’s fur falls flat once again. His eyes shift away, paws shuffling uncomfortably in place. However, he lets out a soft murmuring sound, not quite a bark or a whimper, but enough to let Denji know that he’s listening.

“You can understand me, right?”

Silence. Then—

A nod.

Denji lets out a breath that is nearly a gasp, which in turn is only a hair’s breadth away from a sob. “Okay,” he says. “Okay, great! I thought you did, I just wanted to be sure, you know?”

Aki doesn’t react, not even to glare at him for implying that he wasn’t already sure that he could understand him. Which, he really should have been, shouldn’t he?

“Sorry,” Denji says, moving his hand up to rub around the base of Aki’s pistol. This earns him a light whimper, so he quickly moved his hand away. Playing with his head fluff gets an annoyed huff, but it sounds so Aki-like that it leaves Denji with no option but to grin and keep doing it. “I didn’t mean to call you stupid or anything,” Denji continues. “You’ve just been acting all weird lately, and with you not being able to say anything, it was kinda hard to tell for a while.”

Aki glowers at him, just for a moment, then look down at his paws. Again.

Denji winces. “But I guess you’ve had some good reasons to be acting weird.”

No response.

Denji stops petting, slowly dropping his hand back to his side. “Hey, Aki? Do you think you could tell me what happened to you?”

Aki stiffens up.

“How you became the Gun Fiend,” Denji elaborates. “Maybe if I get some, I dunno, word magnets, you could—”

Aki shakes his head.

“Maybe later?” Denji tries. “I know it’s probably not easy to talk about, but I’d really like to know. So maybe when you’re a little less fucked up about it, you could—”

Aki gives another sharp shake of his head.

“I don’t wanna make you do anything that you don’t want to do,” Denji insists, “But something about this whole thing doesn’t feel right to me. I think it might be important. If you could tell me what happened, maybe—”

This time, Aki’s head shake is combined with a distressed whine. Distress wafts off him in waves, prickling at his fur as he flattens himself against Denji’s lap.

“Oh,” Denji breathes as the realization suddenly hits him. “Aki, do you remember what happened?”

The whimpering stops, but there’s no missing Aki’s shame as he shakes his head.

Denji wraps his arms around him and holds him close to his chest. Aki lets out a displeased grumble, but melts into his touch after a few moments, leaning his head against his chest.

“That’s okay,” Denji softly says. “It’s not like you can stop yourself from forgetting something. And… You aren’t exactly a fiend anymore. The Gun Devil’s gone. Whatever happened, it… It probably doesn’t matter anyway.”

What matters is that Denji is pretty sure that the devil-dog-thing in his arms is Aki.

But… that doesn't matter, either, does it? 

It doesn’t change what Denji did to him.

Chapter Text

Denji killed Aki.

It doesn’t matter that he’s sound asleep in Power’s arms. Denji’s still the one who drove chainsaws all through his body. He’s the one who injured him badly enough to turn him into what he is now, and anyone with eyes can see that Aki doesn’t like what he is now. He didn’t even know what would happen when he did it. It was meant to be a final decision, a way to end the battle for good, a sacrifice to keep more people from dying. The thing that Denji would never forgive himself for. And if he meant to do it, then he might as well have done it, right?

This is all still his fault.

He killed Aki.

It’s early in the morning when Denji gets out of bed. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realizes that it’s his birthday. Looking at Power and Aki, peacefully curled up with each other, he hopes that neither of them remember. The last thing they should be doing right now is celebrating him. Denji gets dressed and sneaks out of the bedroom as quietly as he can. He wanders listlessly around Tokyo, allowing himself to get lost in the guilt that he’s repressed for too long.

And then he hears Makima’s voice.

Chapter Text

Denji never told Makima about Aki. One would have expected going to her for her to be his first instinct. He should have thought harder about why it wasn't. 

Power dies.

It's his fault.

Chapter Text

Denji has a bunch of stuff to carry up to the apartment. Boxes and boxes of tupperware, all full to the brim with meat that he needs to start eating as soon as possible. It lingers in the back of his mind with a weight that he cannot begin to describe. For now, though, he lets it wait in the lobby. He’ll get it soon, but first he needs a moment to—

To—

Denji opens the door to his apartment. He takes in the sight of Power everywhere — her jacket on the kitchen island, a shoe that’s fallen off the genkan, a few stray strands of Nyako’s hair floating in the air — and falls to his knees. Grief wells up and for a moment, he thinks that it might swallow him whole.

If he hadn’t already decided to keep doing, he thinks that he would let it.

He distantly hears the sound of rapid paw steps. He does not register their meaning until Aki is standing right in front of him, placing his front paws on his knees and peering up at him with a concern that couldn’t be more apparent if he was human.

“Aki…” Denji chokes out, and—

He’s going to have to tell Aki what happened, isn’t he?

He didn’t stop to think about how he was going to tell him. How can he tell him? There’s no way that he won’t hate Denji the second that he finds out. The hatred will be deserved, of course. But he’ll also start feeling even worse, and he absolutely doesn’t deserve it. There’s nothing that Denji can do to stop it though. All of the progress Aki’s made will be undone, and he’ll be well within his right if he never looks at Denji again when he pulls himself together, if he pulls himself together, and Denji will just have to keep living and trying and—

Sharp, tiny teeth sink into his hand.

“Ow!” Denji yelps, yanking his hand back and shaking it fiercely. He tries to glower down at Aki, but he isn’t able to produce any real bite past the hazy sheen that still clings to his eyes. Add in the fact that Aki has gotten even closer to his face, actually allowing his pistol to point at Denji through his concern and urgency, and the fight leaves him before it has a chance to manifest.

It’s just as well. He can’t give up completely, but he thinks he’s done fighting for today. Just today. But he still needs to, he has to, he’s gotta say—

“Sorry,” Denji gasps. “Guess I zoned out on you for a moment, huh?”

Aki makes one of those grumbling sounds that is a little too low and quiet to be a bark. Claws — which he really needs to trim — sink into Denji’s leg as he flexes his paws. It’s a demand for information if he’s ever seen one.

Denji sucks in a sharp breath through a rapidly-closing throat, reminds himself that Aki deserves to know, that he needs to know, and chokes out, “Power’s dead.”

Aki slips off of Denji’s lap and sits heavily on the ground before him. He stares up at Denji with glazed, agonized blue eyes, and slowly starts to shake his head.

“I—”

Killed her.

Denji takes in another choking breath and forces himself to remember what had actually happened, his last conversation with Power, how much she hadn’t blamed him. He tries, he tries so fucking hard, and eventually he manages to choke out, “Makima killed her. I— I think she tried to kill you too.”

That’s not enough. He needs to tell the truth.

“I couldn’t save her.”

The full truth.

“It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

Aki stirs back onto motion. He stands up on unsteady legs and clambers back into Denji’s lap. A horrible sound arises as he leans against his chest; it takes Denji a moment to realized that it’s the combined sound of his gasping and Aki’s whining.

A few seconds later, Denji’s gasps have turned into sobs outright. Tears spill down his cheeks once again, matching with the ones seeping into his shirt. Robotically, he raises his hand to pet Aki. He can’t tell if the violent tremors are because he’s shaking, Aki’s shaking, or both.

“I’m sorry,” Denji gasps out. “I’m sorry, Aki, I’m so sorry.”

He’s so fucking sorry for so much, and if he tries to explain it all, he’s pretty sure he’ll be there all day.

As it is, it takes half an hour for him to pull himself together enough to start taking the tupperware inside.

Chapter Text

Aki doesn’t hate him.

That is the only consolation that Denji can cling to for the next few days. Aki is on the verge of an abysmal depression — he’s pretty sure that they both are — but he clearly doesn’t hate Denji. He sleeps with him at night. For the most part, when Denji is in the apartment, which is most of the time these days, Aki is by his side. He starts crying randomly, but that’s only, because Denji does too. Not nearly as much as Aki does, of course, but tears are common in those first few days without Power.

Aki isn’t always next to him though. Sometimes, he’ll go comfort Nyako when she starts to wander around the apartment, wailing in distress as she searches for someone who’ll never come back. He has avoided the cat like the plague since getting turned into what he is now, probably unhappy about being only a little bigger than her. Now, he curls up with the feline, who always seems just as heartbroken as everyone else once she gives up her search. He’ll let her wrap herself around him and gently rest his head on her shoulder. Once, he finds her grooming him, and while Aki is clearly unhappily about getting doused in cat spit, he sits there and lets it happen.

Another time, just once, he finds Aki curled up in Power’s old jacket, hiding away in her scent the same way Nyako does.

Power is gone, but Denji and Aki are still there, broken though they are. And for a little while, it’s like the world stands still.

But it doesn’t. The world spins on and Denji’s to-do list grows ever longer. He’s got a bunch of meals to make, for one. Within the first week of meat for every meal he knows that he’s going to be sick of it by the time he’s done, but he can’t exactly let himself stop. Then there’s the matter of Makima’s dogs. Denji briefly considered adopting them himself, but Aki didn’t like dogs even when he was human. He doesn’t want to know how he would react to seven huskies in the body he has now — or how the huskies would react to him, for that matter. So Denji ends up putting the dogs up for adoption and finds homes for them all as fast as he can.

Power is dead.

Life continues.

Aki isn’t human anymore.

Life continues.

Both are Denji’s fault.

Life continues.

He doesn’t know how he’ll do this.

Life continues.

Chapter Text

Denji is skipping stones on a river, Pochita by his side, when he realizes that he's dreaming. Slowly, he lowers the stone in his hand and turns to look at the devil by his side. Round, orange, fuzzy, and with a chainsaw sticking out of his head, he looks just like he always has. 

He looks just like Aki, apart from a few differences. 

“Is this real?” he asks. And then, because of course this isn't real, it's a dream, he corrects, “Are you really here?” 

“Of course!” Pochita says in the bright, cheerful voice that Denji's only heard once before, in a dying dream. “I'm a part of you now, Denji. I'm always here.”

“Right.” Denji crouches down to Pochita's level and looks him in the eyes. Normally, he'd take advantage of having his best friend back, if even for a moment. He'd hold him close and tell him about everything that's happened and see if talking to Pochita for a bit might make everything feel alright again. But right now, right now he has other priorities. “Aki. Is he really him?” 

Pochita tilts his head to the side, at least, as much as he can with such a pudgy neck. “I thought you figured that out on your own.”

“Yeah, but it'd be nice to get confirmation from something like him.”

“He's him,” Pochita says. “The Aki Hayakawa that exists now, anyway.”

“Are–” Denji's voice comes out as a rough croak. He clears his throat and tries again. “Are you saying he's not the same?”

“He's a devil now. He's not going to be exactly the same no matter how hard he tries.”

Denji exhales heavily. “Okay.” Okay, he can handle this. Okay, Aki being a devil is something he can live with, as long as he's still Aki in the general sense. Okay, time to move on. “What happened to him?”

Pochita's tail gives a little wag. “The same thing that happened to me.”

“What happened to you?” 

“Something similar to what happened to Hayakawa.”

Alright. Time to try another angle. “Is he going to be like this forever?” 

“It depends.”

“On what?” 

“On if he can heal.”

“How–” Denji's breathing is getting uneven again. Which is fucking stupid, considering that this is a dream. So he ignores the little voice chanting your fault, forces himself to be calm, and asks, “How long will it take him to heal?” 

“A long time. Why?” There's something earnest and searching about Pochita's gaze that makes it cut all the deeper when he asks, “Will you love him less if he's like me forever?” 

“Of course not!” Denji exclaims. 

Pochita gives a happy little yip. “Then don't worry about it!” 

“How'm I supposed to do that? If he gets better, will he still be sane, or is he gonna turn back into–”

Denji wakes up. 

He stares up at the ceiling fan whirring lazily above his head. He turns his head to see the plump little shape asleep on the pillow next to him. After a moment of staring, he wraps his arms around Aki and pulls him over onto his chest.

Aki lets out a low, grumbling growl of complaint, eyes cracking open to glower blearily at Denji, but soon nestles into his chest and falls back to sleep.

Denji watches his chest rise and fall for a little while. Then he goes back to sleep as well.

Chapter Text

“Would you love him less if he was like me forever?”

The question haunts Denji long past the point where it has any right to. It shouldn’t, ‘cause it’s a stupid fucking question with an obvious answer. Of course he won’t love Aki any less if he has a body like Pochita’s for the rest of his life. Pochita was a cute little devil-dog thing the entire time Denji knew him and he was his best friend. Why would Aki matter less to him now that he’s the same way? Yeah, it sucks that he can’t talk anymore, but Denji isn’t stupid enough to think that means that he isn’t still a person in there, especially now that he’s started doing stuff again.

No shit, Denji still loves Aki. No duh, he’ll still love him even if he never turns back. Denji didn’t have to think twice about it. It’s kinda insulting that Pochita felt like he had to ask in the first place. He should have just known. But…

Does Aki know?

Denji likes to think that the answer is ‘yes’. It’s a stupid, obvious question, and while he can’t treat Aki exactly the same, he’s been trying his best to take care of him and started talking to him more or less the way he used to. Aki would have to be a moron to think that he doesn’t love him anymore.

The problem is that Aki is a moron sometimes. He gets so caught up in the shit running through his head that he misses the things that are right in front of him. Like Denji, and how it should be so blatantly obvious that Aki is one of the best things that has ever happened to him, but… he’s never said as much. It should be obvious, but the fact remains that he’s never told Aki that he loves him. And that always felt fine; as Denji gradually became aware of what he was feeling, he figured that Aki would be feeling it too. It had felt impossible for the man not to realize that they’re family now.

But now now isn’t then now. Even if Aki realized it back when things were normal, what are the chances that he could have forgotten? And if he was really such an idiot that he never realized, then what does he think Denji thinks of him now?

Denji feels ready to puke up his guts when he thinks about trying to talk about everything he’s feeling. However, the thought of not talking about it is even worse. It’s a creeping, guilty feeling, seeping under his skin and itching until he’s ready to claw it off. He manages to ignore it for the majority of the day, but by the time evening rolls around, he realizes that he’s going to have to do something whether he likes it or not.

Aki is planted in front of the television, watching some news program that Denji left running. Denji’s presence goes unacknowledged until he turns it off. Then Aki turns his head his way, canted just enough to avoid pointing his pistol at him, and shoots him with the most disgruntled glare that his frankly adorable body can manage. He starts to growl, but cuts it off at the last second, letting out one of the grumbles that have become familiar instead.

“Hey,” Denji says, crouching down in front of him. “I’ll turn it back on in a sec. I just, uh, wanted to say something, I guess.”

The grumbling stops. Aki sits up and leans toward Denji with a heavy furrow in his furry brow. His eyes dart around his person, frantically searching for something.

“I’m fine!” Denji hurries to reassure him. “I just wanted to say… You know I still love you, right?”

Aki goes very stiff.

Denji winces, because yeah, Aki’s definitely an idiot. But Denji’s a bigger one for not thinking about this before.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Denji continues, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly. “I probably should have said something when you were still human. But you not being human anymore hasn’t changed anything. So… yeah. I love you. In case that was something you were worrying about.”

Slowly, Aki rises to his feet and clambers into Denji’s lap. He pauses, but when Denji wraps his arms around him, he leans into his chest and grumbles something. Somehow, Denji knows it means ‘I love you, too’.

Chapter Text

It’s a stretch to say that things get better. Aki’s still depressed for more reasons than Denji can count, Denji himself is on the verge of falling apart, and the apartment is ten times more quiet than it was ever supposed to be. But they find a way to keep going. Denji learns how to maintain the apartment by himself. He cooks, separate meals for Aki and himself, because until the job is done, he can’t let himself stop eating. He completely forgoes filters and shares every stupid thought to cross his mind with Aki. Normally he’d worry about annoying him, but he’s pretty sure that being talked to like normal helps him feel better. It’s mostly stupid shit, which has gotta suck, since it’s a lot harder for Aki to convey when he wants Denji to shut up without making the Pochita sounds that he knows he’s trying to avoid, but it makes him look a little less like he wants to disappear. Talking to him makes Denji feel better, too.

They aren’t doing good, but they’re managing. Maybe someday they’ll be doing better than managing. Denji doesn’t know — he isn’t feeling up to thinking about the future yet. For now, keeping his and Aki’s heads above water is his new dream. He’s doing alright at that, which means that things have to be doing alright overall. Gradually, it starts to feel less like he’s walking on glass. Slowly, he and Aki start to fall back into the sorts of routines that allow them to do things mindlessly.

And here’s the thing. Denji used to pet Pochita mindlessly. He pets Meowy mindlessly all the time. So when, while watching the television one rainy morning, he pulls the nearest fuzzy body into his lap and starts petting it, he isn’t thinking about it. He doesn’t even realize who it is that he grabbed until the commercial break.

When he does, he briefly worries that he might be about to get his hand shot off, or at least bitten.

Then he realizes that Aki’s been letting him pet him for over ten minutes without complaint. More than that, he is practically a puddle of liquid in his lap, more relaxed than he’s seen him since this ordeal started. The ammo belt that constitutes his tail is lazily wagging back and forth. His head is resting on his lap, eyes closed in that blissful expression that he remembers from the times when Pochita was happy getting attention.

Because in this short, quiet moment, Aki looks happy, or at least content.

Denji smiles, turns his attention back to the television, doesn’t acknowledge what is happening, and continues petting him.

Chapter Text

It has been two weeks since Power died.

It has been a month since Aki’s human life ended.

The last of Makima’s human body has been eaten. She hasn’t shown any sign of healing or being anything other than well and truly dead.

Denji walks to the park thinking that he’s going to report to Kishibe and go back home.

He returns with a little Control Devil clinging to his back, stops in front of the door, and wonders how badly he’d need to piss Aki off for him to shoot him.

Chapter Text

Aki is waiting by the door when Denji gets home. He knew to expect that. Ever since they lost Power, Aki’s been dutifully waiting for him whenever he’s gone for longer than he said he would be. He was definitely gone longer than he said he’d be today. However, just because he knew what to expect doesn’t mean that he didn’t irrationally hope that it wouldn’t happen. But he opens the door, and there Aki is, staring up at him with worried urgency, head canted just enough to keep the pistol on his head from pointing at him.

Then he notices the little girl clinging to his back, and worry gives way to confusion. 

Denji smiles thinly and hopes that this won’t go too horribly. “Aki, this is Nayuta,” he says, closing the door behind him.

Aki shoots Denji a look that speaks of a thousand questions that he physically cannot voice. A thousand questions that he can’t afford to avoid answering even though those answers are inevitably going to piss Aki the fuck off.

“You have a dog?” Nayuta asks, scrambling to get down from his back.

Denji tries to hold her in pace for a little while longer. “Aki is not a dog,” he firmly says. This situation is already messy enough. If there’s one thing that they need to establish right off the bat, it’s that. 

“He’s a devil dog,” Nayuta insists, heedless of the way Aki’s fur has begun to stand on end. “I want to pet him.”

Denji shoots Aki an apologetic look. Aki’s lips twitch to reveal a flash of teeth, only for him to wrangle the impulse back under control when he realizes that he’s started to do something inhuman. 

“You can pet him if he’s alright with it,” Denji cautiously says, finally giving in to Nayuta’s flailing and lowering her onto the ground. “But you might want to, uh, let him get to know you first.”

Nayuta takes a step toward Aki.

Denji shoves himself in front of her.

And with that, Aki’s caught onto him acting weird. He rises to his feet, eyes darting between Denji and what he can see of the little girl behind him. After a few seconds of this, he stops at Denji’s feet and gives him a low, questioning sound that is somewhere between a bark and a growl — the closest that he can manage without stepping into the territory of either.

Denji gives a grin that’s half grimace. “Would you believe that I’ve decided to adopt?”

Aki points his pistol at Denji’s foot for a second. Then he jerks his head to the side and slaps his boot with a paw instead, tiny claws sinking into the leather. It’s probably supposed to hurt. Denji’s pretty sure that he’ll be offended if he pretends that it does. Instead, he sighs and resigns himself to offering the explanation that he was always going to have to give. He was probably stupid to try to worm his way around it in the first place.

“Aki, this is Nayuta,” he says, stepping out of the way to reveal the girl with familiar amber eyes. “She’s… Well, you can probably tell what she is. Kishibe needed someone to take care of her, and he decided that he trusts us to do it.”

Aki has gone stiff as a board. His eyes are locked on Nayuta, and for once, he isn’t bothering to make sure his pistol is pointed away.

“She’s not Makima,” Denji whispers.

Aki’s eyes snap over to him, angry and tumultuous and betrayed.

Denji feels like shit.

“Who’s Makima?” Nayuta asks, making him feel worse.

Denji doesn’t want to have this conversation right now. He doesn’t want to have this conversation ever. But he’s pretty sure that lying will only make things worse in the long run, and they’ve already got enough shit going on without majorly fucking things up. So he does the easiest thing he can, which isn’t easy at all , turns to Nayuta, and says, “Makima was the old Control Devil. She did some pretty awful stuff to us. She, uh…”

He glances at Aki.

He hasn’t moved a muscle, his pistol still pointed firmly at Nayuta.

At least she doesn't look particularly bothered.

“This is Aki,” he weakly says, turning back to Nayuta. “He was a human, then Makima did some stuff, and now he’s like this. He’s probably gonna need some time to see that you aren’t her before he’ll let you pet him or anything.”

“But that’s not fair!” Nayuta exclaims, stomping her foot.

“Yeah, well.” This isn’t fair to anyone. “Do you guys want something to eat?”

Nayuta doesn’t stop pouting.

Aki doesn’t move. He doesn’t move his pistol.

One of these things is starting to become a problem way faster than the other.

“Hey,” Denji softly says, positioning himself in front of Aki and slowly lowering himself down onto his knees. “She’s a kid. You wouldn’t shoot a kid, right, Aki?”

Aki jerks back like he’s the one who’s been shot. Then he shakes his head, gives Denji one last angry glower, and stomps out of the room.

“…Okay,” Denji says, forcing himself to breath and not feel like the worst person on earth. He only succeeds in one of those things. “I’ll talk to him later, I guess.”

“And get him to let me pet him,” Nayuta asserts.

Denji winces. “You’re really going to have to be patient with that.” He stands back up. “C’mon, let’s get you something to eat.”

Chapter Text

Between Nayuta's general existence and Aki's determination to avoid him, Denji doesn't get a chance to talk to him until well after midnight. 9f course, he has to find him first. The fact that it takes him a while is a glaring indicator of just how shitty the situation in their household is at the moment. The fact that Aki's still awake is an even worse one. 

Aki's managed to shove the sliding glass door open and wander out onto the balcony. The sight makes Denji feel shittier than he already does. Normally, he'd never risk being seen as the weird little gun creature he is now. The fact that it's pitch black outside kinda negates that risk, but it doesn't stop Denji from feeling like crap. He tries to bury it beneath a strained smile as he walks out onto the balcony. Aki has claimed one of the chairs for his own, so Denji lowers himself down into the one beside it. 

Aki doesn't acknowledge him, staring out at the lights of the city. 

“Hey,” Denji says. 

His presence continues to go unacknowledged. Which, alright, fair. 

Denji licks his lips and presses forward. “I know that you're not happy right now–” 

Aki whips his head around to hit him with a glare that could melt steel. 

“Alright, I know that you're fucking pissed,” Denji corrects. “But I've got my reasons, you know?” 

Aki growls. For the first time since getting stuck in this form, Aki consciously, intentionally, knowingly growls. It should probably be considered progress of some sort. Denji winces anyway. He can't tell if Aki's telling him to shut up or daring him to explain the logic that could justify letting the Control Devil in their home, but he takes a chance and continues, “She's a kid, Aki. She's not Makima, and if we treat her right, she might never be Makima. But if Public Safety gets her, she'll be turned right back into what she was before.”

Aki stiffens. His gaze is still locked on Denji, but the stiff peaks of his fur are starting to lay back down. 

Denji softens his voice. “Makima didn't just start out the way she was in the end. Someone made her into that. This is our chance to make her into something better. I…” He licks his lips again, forces himself to keep looking at Aki when he wants to look away. “I know this sucks for you. I didn't wanna take her either. But if we let her end up like before, all the shit we've been through will have been for nothing. Are you really okay with that?” 

Aki looks down at his paws. 

“I don't know what I'm doing,” Denji says, because if he has to get all emotional and shit again, he wants to get it all out at once. “I don't know how to take care of a kid or if a devil kid is any different, but I can't exactly send her back. So… I know this sucks, and I'm really fucking sorry, but will you please help me with her?”

Aki looks up abruptly. He stares at Denji for a moment, then turns his head to shoot a pointed, incredulous look at his round, fluffy self. 

Denji snorts. “Yeah, well, you'll probably still do a better job than me.”

Aki huffs, low and exhausted, and rests his head on his front paws. 

“...Hey.”

Aki reluctantly looks up. 

“Do you still wanna kill me?”

Aki grumbles, then lifts his head just enough to shake it. 

Denji manages to slap his disappeared smile back into place. “Great. And what about…?”

A sigh. Then slowly, reluctantly, Aki shakes his head again. 

Denji sighs in relief. “Great. Now can we please go back inside? I dunno if you've noticed, but it's fucking cold out here.”

The look Aki gives Denji is certainly judgmental, but it isn't angry. He hops off the chair and walks back into the house, Denji close behind. 

Chapter Text

Aki spends another day avoiding Nayuta. 

Denji can't really blame him. For one thing, he never actually agreed to help him with her. For another, there's also, well, everything. It's a stressful day, but not among the top ten worst that Denji's had over the past year. 

When Aki stays still when Nayuta climbs onto the couch next to him the next morning, Denji suddenly finds himself hoping that he may actually be in for a good day. 

He doesn't walk into the living room or do anything to let them know he's watching. Oh, he watches, he watches like a fucking hawk , but he does it from his place in the kitchen. Denji doesn't have any clue what will happen if he interrupts, but if there's any chance that the answer is something bad, he ain't gonna risk it. So he stands there with his heart in his mouth, unable to breathe, as Nayuta reaches out to pet Aki. 

Aki allows it, and suddenly Denji's breathing like he just ran a marathon. 

“Good doggy,” Nayuta says. 

Aki grumbles and turns his head toward the kitchen, where his eyes meet Denji's. 

Denji grins and offers him a thumbs up. 

Aki gives an exasperated huff, but leans into Nayuta's touch.

Chapter Text

The apartment is big enough to fit two people, maybe three if they push it.

There’s already three people’s worth of stuff in there. One of them is still here, but he isn’t going to be anywhere close to human for a very long time. The other one is… gone, and is probably going to be gone for a lot longer. And now Nayuta is here too, and she doesn’t have much stuff yet, but Denji’s been having to buy her more and more. He knows that he’s going to need to keep buying her stuff, too, and that stuff is going to need space.

There isn’t any space. The ghosts are already taking up too much.

There’s an obvious answer to Denji’s problem. He tries to ignore it for too long, but when he starts talking about buying a suitcase to store Nayuta’s clothes, Aki gives him one of his judgmental looks, and he knows that he can’t ignore it anymore. So he goes into town and buys a storage locker. One of the nice ones where nothing short of a storage locker will be able to get at the stuff inside, not one of the the cheap crappy ones he’d use to store his own stuff. He buys a bunch of cardboard boxes. After that, all he has to do is pack everything up and move it.

It should be easy.

It’s not easy.

Denji starts with Aki’s stuff. Aki watches him the entire time, anal-retentive jackass that he is. He can feel his eyes piercing into him as he carefully backs ups what clothes and personal belongings survived their old apartment’s destruction. Denji tries his best to be careful and precise and all that, but he’s not some sort of obsessive freak, which means that it’s not up to Aki’s standards. He makes disgruntled noises at him throughout the process. At one point, when Denji gets particularly sloppy, he even barks at him.

Denji feels too weighed down to laugh or say anything about this frankly hilarious turn of events.

He leaves all of Aki’s photographs out. He’s still around to look at them, and even if Denji feels like he’s being stabbed when he looks at Power or the old Aki, he doesn’t think Aki feels the same way, so. Up they stay.

And then it’s time to pack Power’s stuff.

Aki is silent throughout the process. He sits a lot closer to Denji, staring at the boxes with watery blue eyes that Denji can’t look at for too long, lest he get caught up in feelings that he’s done with. Because he is done. He isn’t going to cry about what happened anymore, he isn’t going to think about it, he isn’t going to acknowledge it. He’s going to pretend that none of it ever happened at all.

He is. And he’ll be fine.

He’s fine.

He’s fine.

Until he’s folding Power’s favorite jacket up and suddenly realizes that he can’t move. He can barely even breathe. He just stares down at the garment laid down in his lap, eyes dry and burning, and tries not to fall into the abyss threatening to open up beneath him once again.

And then he feels something fuzzy brush against his leg. 

“Hey.” Denji doesn’t look away from the jacket as he moves his hand to rest on Aki’s back. His voice is quiet and wobbly and pathetic, but Aki’s the only one there, and he can’t tell anyone, so he supposes that it doesn’t matter. “Does it ever stop hurting?”

Aki whines apologetically.

Denji lets out a strangled sound that’s supposed to be a laugh. He’s just gonna pretend that it was a laugh.

“Didn’t think so.”

Chapter Text

Nayuta is flipping through the television channels with the glassy gaze of a child utterly unimpressed by everything that it has to offer. Denji doesn’t expect her to stop on the news. When she does, he wishes that she had stopped on literally anything else.

On the screen, a somber, well-dressed woman is saying, “Citizens of this quiet neighborhood are still reeling from the Gun Fiend’s attack. The losses suffered on that day are…”

Denji blocks out the rest. He’s already heard enough. He’s seen enough. Aki is shrinking into the couch and edging away from Nayuta at the same time. The bullets lining his tail click and clack as they bump into each other with the force of his trembling.

Nayuta doesn’t seem to notice, too caught up in staring at the television. When the screen switches over to display footage of the Gun Fiend rampaging through Tokyo, her jaw goes slack and her eyes wide as dinner plates.

It’s only allowed to play for a few seconds before Denji snatches the remote out of her hand and turns the television off. 

“I think that’s enough TV for the day. Why don’t you go outside?” he says, trying to sound cheerful and normal even though he’s pretty sure that his hands are shaking as he gathers Aki up in his arms. He doesn’t stop trembling, but holding him forces Denji’s hands to still, which probably counts as some sort of victory.

“Was that Aki?” Nayuta asks, still staring at the blank screen of the television.

Aki’s trembling stops. Instead, he goes stiff as a rock.

Denji laughs uneasily. “Why would you think that?”

Nayuta glowers at him in disgruntlement. “I’m not stupid, Denji. You said that he didn’t always look like this. That fiend had a gun in its forehead, just like Aki’s. Did he—”

Aki starts to whine. It’s quiet enough that Denji wouldn’t be able to hear it if he wasn’t holding him. At the same time, the sound is deafening.

“—kill all tho—”

“It wasn’t his fault,” Denji blurts out. He adjusts his grip on Aki to hold him in one arm while running his other hand down his back. “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats, soft but firm.

He’s ready to keep repeating that for as long as it takes, but Nayuta asks, “How can it not be his fault if that was him?”

“He was being—” Denji’s voice cracks. He swallows. It’s a little painful, but he pushes through anyway. “He was being controlled, I think. Makima turned him into the Gun Fiend. He wasn’t thinking straight when he was doing that, and then I beat him up so badly that he ended up like this.”

Aki has stopped whining, but he’s still trembling. It occurs to Denji that he might not have known that he is responsible for this. In the selfish hope that he already did, or at least that he doesn’t hate him for it, he holds him tighter. “It wasn’t your fault,” he repeats.

Nayuta is looking at him with the heavy, pensive weight of a kid contemplating something that she shouldn’t have to. “You said Makima was the old Control Devil.”

Denji nods.

Nayuta’s eyes flicker over to the lump of devil in Denji’s arms. “So that’s why he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you. He just…” Denji sighs, looks down at Aki, looks back at Nayuta, and starts over. “It’s Makima’s fault that those people died, not Aki’s. But Makima’s dead, so if what you saw on the TV is anyone’s fault, it’s mine for not finding a way to stop him.”

Aki goes still in his arms.

Nayuta is staring at him. She doesn’t look as weighed down as she did a moment ago, but she does seem a little sad. 

“You gonna be okay?” Denji asks.

Just like that, Nayuta snaps out of it. “Yeah. I don’t care if some humans died anyway.”

“Cool. You good for me to leave you alone for a bit?” Denji gently jostles Aki. He gets no response. “I think I need to talk to him.”

Nayuta looks at the remote that lays abandoned on the couch. “Can I keep watching the TV?”

“As long as it’s not the news.”

“Fine.”

Denji smiles at her, ‘cause a smile won’t work right now, and carries Aki into the bedroom.

This is really going to suck.

Chapter Text

Denji kneels down on the futon and sets Aki on the bed. He adjusts his small furry body slightly, but is otherwise perfectly still, gaze locked onto the patch of bedding right in front of him. Denji stares at him as he re-arranges himself to sit cross-legged across from him.

When a little while passes without any sort of reaction from Aki, Denji asks, “Hey. You down to talk?”

Aki glances up and back down again, but not without a quiet whuff that Denji chooses to take as an affirmative.

He goes to open his mouth to say something brilliant and insightful that will make everything okay again.

His lips part and he realizes that he isn’t and is probably never going to be someone who can do something like that. What he does is fumble around with the words in his head for a bit, each one sounding like far too little, until he finally comes up with the thing that he needs to say, even though he knows that it won’t be enough either.

“Sorry,” Denji whispers.

Aki looks up again. His brow crinkles, and in his surprise, he doesn’t think to point his rifle away from Denji. It’s the biggest response that he’s gotten out of him so far, so he chooses to take it as a good sign. Too bad it doesn’t make him feel any less rancid. Too bad it makes him realize that even though it’s the most important thing to say, sorry alone isn’t gonna cut it.

“I should have stopped you sooner,” Denji says. “All those people who died died ‘cause of me. So if you’re feeling bad, get angry at me instead, okay?”

Aki sits up, shaking his head frantically.

“I mean it!” Denji exclaims. “I’m the one who let the fight drag on and…” His hands are shaking. He lets them. “I’m the one who couldn’t find another way to stop you.” 

Something inside him breaks. A bitter, broken expression twists across his face, and he knows that he might regret what he’s about to say for the rest of his life, but it’s not enough to keep him quiet. This is one lie that he can’t bring himself to live with. “I’m the reason you’re like this. I tore you apart until you were so chewed up that you turned into a Pochita. I didn’t know what else to do, so I tried to kill you.”

Aki stands up. Slowly, carefully, he angles his rifle away from Denji.

“You didn’t know that right?” Denji asks, unable to fight down the edge of hysteria bleeding into his voice. “You’d have to hate me if you knew, so like, you thought that Makima did it, right? Or you forgot, or—”

Aki climbs into Denji’s lap, pressing himself against his stomach. Somehow, it manages to feel like a hug.

Denji’s voice cracks as he chokes out, “Did you know?”

Aki nods.

Denji makes a strained wheezing sound that someone with really bad hearing might call laughter. “Well that’s fucking stupid. You should hate me then, or at least not blame yourself for this shit.”

Aki peers up at Denji, the discontent clear on his fuzzy face, and leans forward to gently poke Denji in the stomach with his rifle.

Denji shakes his head. “That’s not…”

Another poke. 

“Shut up.” 

Denji flops onto his back. Aki climbs up to sit on his chest. There’s a lot that he should say, but the second he’s laying down, all of his energy for important shit drains away. Aki doesn’t hate him. Sure, he’s still responsible for a whole bunch of heinous shit, but Aki knows that he got him turned into a funny little devil-dog-thing and he still doesn’t hate him. That knowledge makes it possible to shove everything else into the back of his mind to be dealt with at a later date — ideally never.

“I was trying to make you feel better,” Denji grumbles after a bit. “I’m starting to think that I’m bad at being the only one who can talk.”

Aki lets out a little huff that’s probably agreement.

“At least I got you to stop freaking out.”

Aki thwaps him on the cheek. The plush feeling of his paw makes the slight scratch of his claws laughable.

“I did!” Denji reaches forward to rub him behind his head. Aki sinks into his touch with an irritated huff. “We should probably tell Nayuta that we’re fine.” 

Aki doesn’t respond.

“You’re right,” Denji decides. “We can give it a little longer.”

Chapter Text

Denji steps into the apartment with a call of, “Hey, Aki! Can you come in here? I’ve got something for ya!”

Nayuta pokes her head out of the bedroom. “Is it a dog toy!?” she excitedly asks.

Denji scowls at her. “No.”

Nayuta scowls right back at him. “Boring.” 

Something that sounds like a one-sided argument echoes from the doorway. A moment later, Aki pads out, irritating clear in the bristling of his fur and the furrow of his brow.

Denji winces. “Sorry about her,” he says, crouching down and setting his find out on the ground. “She’ll realize that you aren’t a dog soon.”

Aki’s fur bristles a little more as he tilts his head to the side, eyes narrowing into little slits. Literally narrowing — his pupils are contracting into little dots with spinning lines around them. 

Denji doesn’t know if he realizes that he’s doing it. If he doesn’t he isn’t going to be the one to point it out. No, he just grimaces again and corrects, “She’ll realize it sooner or later. Probably.”

Aki’s huff is equal parts annoyance and acknowledgement. It doesn’t sound particularly trusting, but his eyes stop spinning and his fur lays flat on his back, so Denji’s gonna go ahead and say that he did a decent job of appeasing him — which means that they can finally move on.

“Look!” he exclaims, grinning as he pulls a flat case of the plastic convenience store bag. Aki doesn’t look particularly hopeful or interested as he sits down to watch. Then he leans forward to see the front of the case, and suddenly he looks interested.

“They’re letter magnets!” Denji exclaims, even though he’s pretty sure that Aki’s already realized that. “They’ve only got katakana, but… it’s better than nothing, right? I was thinking that you could use these to talk to me.”

Aki looks up at Denji. Then down at the magnets. Then back up at Denji. There’s clearly something going on in his head, but Denji can’t tell what it is — which is exactly the problem that he got the magnets to try and solve.

“C’mon,” Denji says as he opens the case and pours the magnets out. “Let's give it a try!”

Aki stares at Denji for a moment longer before slowly shuffling forward to sift through the magnets. The process of him moving the pieces around and trying to put them together is agonizingly slow. By the time he has a word, his fur is bristling and Denji’s starting to feel antsy. Then Denji has to try to actually read the word. It shouldn’t be difficult, he’s a better reader now than he was before, but it is and even though he tries his best, that’s a slow process too. He tries not to let on that he’s struggling, but he feels Aki's eyes on his and can’t help but grit his teeth. But eventually, finally, he manages to sound the word out.

“Sorry.” Denji leans back, stumped. “What’re you sorry about?” he asks.

Aki stares straight at Denji, pistol pointed directly at his head.

“Seriously, what?” Denji asks.

Aki lets out a grumble-huff of disgruntlement and returns to the magnets. From there, they have to sit through another round of Aki pawing the word together and Denji struggling to read it out before he finally gets, “Gu-n. Gun. Oh. Oh.”

Denji slumps back against the floor, face falling, and turn toward Aki. “We talked about that, didn’t we? What happened back there wasn’t your fault.”

Aki shrink in on himself at his words. It’s only for a second — the next thing Denji knows, he’s returned to the magnets, pawing another word together with a frantic urgency that wasn’t there before. When he’s done, he has another word — no, two words.

Shot you.

“So!?” Denji exclaims. “I’m a devil, that shit was nothing! I’m fine now! I…” His throat is starting to tighten up. He clears his throat to get rid of that shit and continue, voice still a little rough, “I don’t give a shit that you hurt me. I care that you aren’t dead.”

Aki’s still standing over the magnets and staring at him. Denji can’t quite read the look on his fuzzy face, but it drives him to lean forward and run a hand through soft black fur. “I don’t care that you’re like this now, either.”

Aki looks down at his feet.

“I mean it!” Denji insists. “I know it’s gotta suck for you, but it would be way worse if you were dead.”

Aki pulls away from him and starts shuffling through the magnets again. This time, he paws through them for about thirty seconds before giving up and sitting down with a grumble.

Denji winces. “Maybe the magnets weren’t a good idea.”

Aki shoots him a flat look that is pretty easily recognizable as ‘no shit’.

“I’ll figure something else out.” He starts petting Aki again. This time, he doesn’t pull away. “It’ll be okay.”

Chapter Text

Nayuta is refusing to go to bed. It’s not the first time and it won’t be the last.

Aki is judging Denji from his place on the bed. It isn’t the first and won’t be the last time for that, either.

Fuck his life.

“Come on,” Denji wheedles. “You don’t know that you won’t be able to sleep.”

“Yes, I do!” Nayuta exclaims, not looking up from her DS. “I’ve had too much caffeine! I’ll just be laying there bored!”

“Maybe, but you won’t know if you don’t try.”

“Yeah I do, I’m not stupi .” Nayuta looks up to point an accusing finger at Denji. “This is your fault for letting me have three bobas!”

Aki lets out a displeased little growl and glowers at Denji. Which, okay, yeah, they might have a point. 

Okay, they probably have a point. Sue him for wanting to make sure Nayuta has a nice childhood.

“You’ve still gotta try to sleep,” Denji says, walking over to Nayuta. He moves to take the DS away from her. “Put that down and close your eyes.”

“No!” Nayuta yelps, jerking the gaming system out of her grasp. “I can’t stop until I beat the next level.”

Aki stands up with a heavy sigh. 

“Sure you can, that game saves!” Denji exclaims. 

“Yeah, but I don’t be a quitter! If I stop now—”

Aki reaches forward to gently take Nayuta’s sleeve in his teeth and tug on it. She falls silent as she turns to stare at him. He lets go of her sleeve, walks a few paces back into the bed, and sits down, staring at her with wide, pleading blue eyes.

Nayuta looks between Aki and her DS a few times before pushing a few buttons, flipping it closed, and setting it down with a heavy sigh of, “Fine.”

“What!?” Denji squawks as Nayuta climbs into bed. “Just like that!?”

“Aki’s cute. You’re not,” Nayuta says, pulling the devil in question into her arms. He goes along with it with none of his usual grumbling. “I’ll go to bed if it means I can snuggle him.”

Denji sputters. Before he can formulate any actual words, such as ‘Why don’t you want to snuggle me’ or ‘Aki, what the fuck’, Aki shoots him a warning glare.

“Fine, whatever,” he groans.

At least Aki’s helping. He knew he’d be good at it. And, really, Denji should be grateful that he’s decided to help.

Even if Nayuta would apparently rather snuggle with a fat little devil-dog thing than the person who feeds and clothes her.

“Fuck me, I guess,” Denji mutters under his breath.

Chapter Text

Denji stands in front of the bath with his arms crossed. Aki stands in front of him, fur bristling.

“Look,” Denji sighs. “You’re— I’m not calling you a dog, but it’s okay if you have a little dog smell. It’s normal!”

Aki starts growling.

“I mean it! I smell like dog all the time!”

Aki’s growling gets louder.

Denji groans the groan of someone who knows that they’re fucking up, doesn’t know how to stop fucking up, and has no other option but to continue with the conversation that has him shoving his foot in his mouth every few seconds.

“You’re like Pochita, okay? He was my best friend for years, so I know what I’m talking about. You aren’t actually a dog, but you’ve got fur and skin like one. You’re gonna get rashes if you keep taking baths this often.”

Aki makes a dismissive sound and starts toward the bathtub, still growling a little.

Denji gets in his way. “I mean it!” he exclaims. “Maybe you don’t care, but I don’t want you getting sick because you want to smell like a human.”

The growling stops. Aki gives Denji a long, thoughtful look before glancing off to the side.

Denji decides to take it as a good sign. He crouches down and runs his hand down his back, ignoring the disgruntled grumbling that he gets in response. “I know you’re upset about this whole thing, but actin’ like your body is still the same and trying to do things you can’t do will only make it worse. If I’d been turned into a Pochita, you wouldn’t want me hurting myself to try and smell nice, would you?”

Aki looks away. Denji knows enough by now to know that it means he’s right.

“I’m not saying I’m going to let you get stinky,” Denji continues. “Just— you don’t need to take a bath every few days, okay?”

Aki lets out a quiet grumble that Denji recognizes as acceptance.

Denji grins. “While we’re talking about it, instead of human shampoo, you should probably use—”

There’s the click of a bullet sliding into place in Aki’s pistol.

“—Whatever you want me to buy.”