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When Denji awoke again, what would be the third time this night, he at least expected it to be 5 AM. All last night he tossed and turned in his bed, his sheets entrapping him in some sort of cocoon, or a messed up womb. Sweat beaded on his forehead and back, making his cocoon/womb situation even worse. Groaning, he pulled himself free and yawned, eyes glancing over at the clock.
2 AM.
Come the fuck on, he thought bitterly to himself, brushing his hand through his hair. He always hated nights like these. Nights where he could try anything; counting sheep, chamomile tea (when he could afford it), breathing exercises, forcing his eyes closed and emptying his mind of all the horrible thoughts and worries that came to him, and none of those techniques would work. He remembered when he could still hold Pochita, and they would just look out at the stars from whatever damaged roof that protected their shelter.
As much as he loved Pochita being a part of him, he still wished he could hold him.
There is that one piece, that horrible nagging thought, though usually in the back of his head, was now front and on display reminded him.
As much as he wanted to stop and try to huddle in his bed once again, he also wanted to visit the piece. He tried not to visit the piece. Kishibe reminded him more than once to move on from what happened. He hated thinking about what happened. Kishibe didn’t know about the piece. He couldn’t bear to be rid of all the pieces, at least that’s what he told himself. He truly still had all the pieces, but he needed to feel. He needed to hold and…talk to it.
To her.
He realized he was already in the kitchen. He involuntarily rubbed at his neck. There was never a collar, but true dogs, he would think on nights like these, true dogs knew who they belonged to.
I can’t wake up Nayuta, he reminded himself. The poor girl didn’t deserve to be woken up in the middle of the night just because he was freezer foraging like a jackass.
Maybe if you like, had the munchies, it would be excusable, he imagined Power, as if she was in the room with him. I never get scared!
He smiled at yet another pathologic lie that his found sister would have told as he began to remove the contents of the freezer as swiftly and unobtrusively as he could. First came the peas, then the numerous cartons of ice cream that Nayuta demanded in the grocery store last Saturday, and finally at a hunk of meat Kishibe donated to him, until he saw what gave him comfort.
It was a tiny piece of pale flesh, wrapped tightly in saran wrap so as to not spoil. Gingerly, he grabbed the tiny piece in the palm of his hand and quickly closed the freezer door. Turning on the overhead light by the table, he sat down, gripping the piece of flesh as if it would leave again.
Remember it well…
He flinched, almost as if he was bitten in the present. His hand shakingly placed the pale piece of flesh on the table, staring at it for a while, as if the flesh piece would soon be joined by the other pieces of itself, taking form to resemble her.
“Hello Ms. Makima,” Denji whispered, a huge weight coming off of his chest.
As much as he hated to, he needed to see her. He needed to find comfort from her, like before. But he hated her. He loved her. He wished he could never see her again.
But she is on the table. He saved a piece of her.
He began to unwrap the saran wrap from the flesh. It was like a groom removing his new wife from her dress. It was like unwrapping a lollipop wrapper after getting puked in the mouth. It felt scandalous. It felt pure. It felt cold, with frost coating the saran wrap.
Cold as a snowball hitting the gun fiend.
He saved her cheek. When they went to the movies, she had a light blush on, shimmering in the sunlight before they went into the theater. Even though he tried to focus on whatever cinematic peak or bleak was screening, his eyes still wandered over towards her face, catching her cheek light up when the movie screen flashed.
His thumb lightly brushed the tiny part of her cheek, stroking it as if she was alive right now, laying on his table like it was a piano and he was about to serenade her.
“I uh, can’t sleep,” he mumbled, his own cheeks flushing as he looked down at her. “Have you ever experienced that? Oh, uh, probably not. Um…you’re probably on a tight schedule after all. Even in sleep.”
Unlike Power and Aki, he couldn’t really tell what she would say if she was there. It could be a smile and a reminder to take care of himself, or she would scowl at him like she did that day it happened.
The one thing he knew, however, is that she would never look him in the eye. Only at the chest. Only at the one thing she cared about.
He didn’t like thinking about that. He changed the subject.
“I, uh, met someone at school today,” He said, instantly wincing afterwards. How juvenile! She wouldn’t give a shit about that! Alas, he already committed. Might as well spill. She always had a way of making you talk. “Her name is Asa Mitaka. She’s a little strange, but so was Power, and I guess I just want to give her a chance.”
Silence rang through the apartment, through the city, and through the entire world. She doesn’t care about any of this, the world seemed to answer for the dead horsewoman.
He began to get sweaty again. He felt so stupid wasting time like this, talking to a piece of cheek flesh that doesn’t even respond.
“I’m having bad thoughts,” Denji finally admitted, being as loyal as a dog ever could be. “I keep thinking about what happened and I can see them dying over and over and over and over and I-I want to tell myself that I did the right thing having you with me, but I’m still a mess and I-I’m still dirty.”
Denji choked back a sob, looking away from the silent judge. “I-I bought this magazine, alright? The ones that have the hot babes in them. I-I thought I could move on, but every time I try to be happy, I feel horrible. I want to be happy, but I’m so damn filthy all the time! I clean myself and I still I-I think of you and how much I’m not okay and I throw out the magazine but then I find myself digging through the trash like a-a goddamned animal trying to get it, and I realize at the end of the day, that’s all I am.”
A pregnant silence rang even stronger through the room. The cicadas that normally chirped have completely stopped.
“I’m just an animal.”
She said nothing.
One of the dogs- Denji believed this to be Tiramatsu but after what happened, he honestly forgot which dog was which, slowly trotted into the kitchen, butting its nose into Denji’s leg.
Part of my pack, Denji imagined the dog saying, right as it laid down next to him.
Denji didn’t fight back tears. His well had wrung dry months ago. Now numb, he gently petted the Husky’s head, appreciating the softness of his fur.
“Denji, what are you doing?”
The boy shot up straight in his chair, grabbing the cheek as if she would be confiscated and he would never see her again. Turning around, he saw Nayuta, eyes droopy and spaced out, as if she had just woken.
“Wha…what the hell are you even doing, weirdo?” She asked, eyeing the food that should be in the freezer piled out on the counter. “It’s three in the morning.”
So he was out here for an hour. It went by fast, and yet, he felt like he had said nothing of importance to her at all. What a waste of an hour.
“Oh I was uh, just sitting,” Denji lied, rising from the chair. He was still holding onto the cheek piece as if she was his lifeline. He figured he could place it back in the freezer when Nayuta wasn’t looking, and then cover her up again in new saran wrap when she was getting ready for school.
The smaller girl eyed him cautiously, pouting at him as she crossed her arms in annoyance. “I love you Denji, but you’re weird as hell. I know you’re thinking about girls that will probably just try to kill you in the end, so just get to bed.”
This, surprisingly, made Denji feel a bit better. She loved him. There was somebody out there who loved him, and wanted him to take care of himself.
Nayuta rubbed her nose with her arm, as if to scratch an itch. She sniffed, eyeing the food that was out. “Want me to help clean up your mess?”
Denji looked towards the food and shook his head. “Nah, I got it. You should go to bed.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Nayuta ordered, but she had a sly grin when doing it. “Take small steps. It seems like a huge mess, but if you take things one step at a time, it could get easier.”
“Ok, mom,” Denji groaned at her, making Nayuta give him a rude gesture with her tongue out. Laughing, the younger Hayakawa made her exit with Tiramatsu following at her feet.
He felt the piece of cheek in his hand. He didn’t need it right now. Placing it on the table, he went over towards the cupboards and grabbed the saran wrap, slicing off a medium sized piece and packaging the cheek as if he was tucking her into bed.
There may be some days when he needs her, but he remembered what she - Nayuta said. One step at a time. Some days, he will run, possibly float, and fly. Other days he will stumble, crash, and fall.
He will have good days, and bad days. Days where he will remember living with Power and Aki, how Power never flushed after doing number two. How Aki would smoke on the balcony, the scent of cigarette smoke wafting after him as he reentered the apartment.
But there will be days where he remembers the assassins, the Darkness, cold snow, and birthdays. He will pull her out of the freezer and hold her to his face, cheek to cheek, crying about how bad, how awful he is, how dirty, perverted, and useless he could be.
He figures that it won’t be an easy process by far, and he will stumble and fall numerous times, probably over and over again. But he has to get up. For her. She’s counting on him.
Give her lots of hugs…
He will. He will walk and run, stumble and burn, and get back up again. He will keep living, he will live for her, because of her.
It would be like learning how to walk.
If he ever grew up with a bike (he could never afford one), he would probably relate to all the scenes he saw in movies of kids falling on them, but still getting up and trying again.
It would be like entering unknown waters, not knowing if today will make him rise above the water, or sink into the Mariana Trench below.
It would be like learning how to swim.
But first, Pochita says from his heart- from his every being, you need to make an effort.
I will, Denji answers back.
He puts Makima in the back of the freezer again. He still can’t bring himself to throw out, or possibly eat the frostbitten flesh piece, but that’s for another day. Kishibe’s donated hunk of meat goes in next - maybe Denji will make Nayuta a nice steak for dinner tonight. He’ll have to find a recipe. Then, all of the ice cream Nayuta conned him into buying. He’ll make sundaes after, just for her.
After taking these first steps, Denji walks away from Makima and goes back into his room.
He sleeps soundly into the night.