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A beating heart always seeks out love.
There are many kinds of love, too.
But which are real, and which are conditional?
Denji had never gotten to learn the difference.
So when he looked at Makima, at her soulless, piercing eyes, he saw something real.
Until he met Reze.
At first it was denial—he’d already sworn himself to swallowing poison—but he kept going back to the coffee shop. Every day, he’d get lunch with her. And slowly, he fell for her—despite what he’d desperately tried to convince himself of.
Funny thing was, Reze was in the same boat.
She was supposed to kill him, take the Chainsaw heart, and go back to where she came from. But when she looked at Denji she didn’t see that heart, she saw Denji’s heart—that goofy smile, his painfully low standards, his excitement, everything about him.
That’s why she kept his daisy, right at the table he sat at with her every day.
Because she didn’t just see an organ—she saw him.
And for some reason she just couldn’t get the job done.
Instead, ideas floated around her head—ideas of taking him with her, running away together and living a joyful life away from all of this suffering and cruelty that’d numbed them in entirely different ways; a place where they could go to school together, and live happily.
A place where they could be country mice together.
Of course, it was a childish dream—but that was something she’d never had before.
And it made her feel alive.
When she dragged him around the school building, trying to back up her story, she couldn’t help the genuine smile that lit up her face like a star—and Denji? He loved it.
When Reze was doing a mock-up of school for him, just for fun, she thought about how inaccurate it probably was—which was funny, considering Denji would never be able to tell, after all, she’d never been to school either. She only knew basements, rules written in the blood of the fallen, the scent of gunpowder.
But with Denji’s oblivious smile, she couldn’t care less about that.
Instead she got him all the way to the rooftop, tried to get him to swim with her—even knowing she was helpless in the water. He didn’t know that, but she knew. Still, she encouraged him, asked him to join her.
And eventually he let go of the chain he’d wrapped around his neck, and jumped in with her.
It should’ve been a little strange—both naked, completely vulnerable in the water, but instead she just taught him how to float. The night was theirs, and holding each other’s hands felt right, their fingers interlocking as if they’d finally found the right place to fall. They swam together in harmony, blanketed by the night, where no one would ever see.
The warmth in their chests wouldn’t last, nothing good ever did, especially not for Denji, but still, after that night, Reze wanted to stay by his side more than ever.
And then came the night of the festival.
Reze had never been the type to feel nervous, always in control, confident in her abilities, but the closer she got to the moment she’d been waiting for, the more she could feel heart flutter in her chest.
It was such a strange feeling, so human, but it felt amazing.
It was almost impossible for her to hold her composure when the moment finally came; but then excitement and fear died in her chest.
Because he said no. He said he’d rather stay. Be a city mouse.
And she figured out, on top of that rejection, that he was Makima’s dog.
She didn’t know why—but it hurt. It cut deeper than it should’ve, bleeding right into her heart. She almost wanted to cry, but she didn’t.
Now she knew she couldn’t go with him; he was tied to Makima.
No one ever escaped her.
The idiot wanted Reze to stay, wanted a life with her, but she couldn’t.
Now she had a job to finish, and the pain was the final push she needed—understanding there was no happy ending for them both.
And, although she wouldn’t admit it, there was bitterness from a feeling of betrayal that shouldn't have existed. Nestled deep in her chest, she felt betrayed that Denji didn’t choose her. She would’ve thrown everything away and gone into hiding for him, would’ve sacrificed everything she knew, put herself in danger, and he didn’t do the same.
It drove her to finish the job.
But of course, he kept up with her. No matter what trick she pulled, how powerful she was, he was a cockroach—persistent and undying.
And one thing he said cut deeper than she expected; even in the midst of chaos, putting himself in danger to hold her off, he still screamed it out.
“What about my heart, huh?! Denji’s heart! Why does nobody want that?!”
Oh how badly she wanted to give up right then and there—she’d always wanted his heart, she’d always seen him, not the chainsaw heart. But she couldn’t have it and she hated that.
She wasn’t the type to cry, but felt that aching pain in her chest that made her want to bawl her eyes out and take it all back, beg him to go with her, but she locked it away, so no one could see it.
She hadn’t felt pain like that in years.
And even though she’d tried so hard to kill him, she fell short. And against every bit of logic, he’d made sure she was alive. He even gave her his shirt.
When she woke up on the sand the first thing she thought was how stupid he was. Second was how much she liked his shirt.
And then he echoed her offer, her plea, but she pushed him away—tried to convince him that it was all a lie, that she’d used him, but he knew better. He could see how with every word she tried to hurt him with she struggled to look at him.
That didn’t mean she’d admit it.
Instead she walked away, listening to him call out for her, and hearing him push forward in the sand.
The tears pricked at her eyes, saltier than ocean water.
But she still walked away.
Even with that last sentence, where he said he’d wait for her, at the coffee shop.
Suddenly the train station felt suffocating
Everything felt too loud, too small, too…wrong.
It was the morning now, and she waited to return to Russia and continue her work. But all she could think of was Denji, he stupid smile, his eyes…
His promise.
And even though it was common sense not to, even though she knew she should’ve left him, she took a final glance around the train station, and then took off running. She left her place behind, running as fast as she could, past all of the curious people, the buildings, lights, cars, streets, her feet leading her without hesitation.
Her heels clacked aggressively against the sidewalks, the sounds of the city flying by her as she sped up, faster and faster, the closer she got the easier it was to breathe.
She could even smell daises from a nearby flower shop as she dashed past.
She’d never felt so free. She’d never chosen for herself.
Unlike so many, she’d never followed her heart.
But she was determined, and wouldn’t leave this hole in her heart.
She could see the shop now, see Denji through its window, laughing quietly to herself as she picked up the pace, dashing through the alleyway with the brightest, truest smile she’d ever had.
Until she saw the mice.
They made her stop, almost stumble, as they flooded the alleyway. And in seconds, she appeared.
Makima.
Of course, Makima.
Her words were quiet.
“Have you ever heard of the city and the country mouse?”
“Personally…I prefer the country mouse.”
She mused, her tone dead, cold, as she held a sweet little mouse in her hand.
Reze still tried to fight it, like a fly struggling in a spider’s web.
But she died just as easily. It took Makima practically nothing.
Now Reze’s blood pooled, filling the alleyway in too clean of a way, her breathing slowing chest hitching. Her fingers scratched at the ground in a futile attempt to keep living.
She should’ve felt regret for going back—for something as stupid as him—but she didn’t.
She only felt regret for not telling him she loved him.
And she stared up, Makima looking down at her with cold, unfeeling eyes—as if Reze were just another piece in her puzzle; a tool that no longer had a use.
A few seconds passed like this, eerily quiet.
Until right before Reze died, they both heard a scream.
It was unmistakably Denji’s.
Reze felt a deep, shuddering horror in her chest, as well as tears finally drip freely from her eyes. It almost gave her the adrenaline to get up.
But she died before she could see his face one more time, smile at him.
Do anything to soothe that pain.
Before she could tell him she loved him.
And Makima met him instead.
As Denji came running right out of the shop, staring in horror at Reze’s cold, limp body—her eyes frozen with anguish—he fell right to his knees.
He could feel the tears, the tightness in his chest, this feeling he wasn’t used to.
“Y-You didn’t-“
His voice was weak; as much as he wanted to scream, struggle, tell Makima that she hadn’t needed to hurt her, he couldn’t—even though he felt angry past all of this pain; His throat felt too tight to get any words out.
He didn’t know how to deal with it, either.
There was a stifled sob, he didn’t care about some of the blood that now caressed the fabric of his clothes, her blood, as a trembling hand reached out to grasp hers.
He prayed for warmth, for her to squeeze back, yet it was as cold as ice.
But even that didn’t rival the coldness of Makima’s eyes.
Despite the circumstances, Makima still felt absolutely nothing. It didn’t matter how much he cried, how pained he looked, she still felt empty.
Instead of seeing a person in pain, she saw a problem in need of fixing.
So she leaned down, shoes gently splashing the blood surrounding them, and tilted Denji’s head up to look at her. She could see the pain in his eyes—the tears that looked so out of place pouring down his face.
First she gently pried his hand from Reze’s, holding it in her own and feeling the traces of blood on his fingers.
Then she spoke.
Her voice was soft, gentle, but purposeful.
“It’s alright Denji. It needed to be done. She was trying to kill you again, I needed to protect you. Okay?”
She tilted her head, and Denji’s eyes widened. He didn’t want to believe her, but felt she wouldn’t lie to him. The pain of Reze not loving him still cut deep. His anger died in his chest where it’d sparked seconds ago.
He just wished there was a little more comfort from Makima.
But he felt no warmth from her, either.
Yet to him that love was still real; not as a lover now, but closer to a parent. It was confusing, Denji didn’t know what kind of love he wanted anymore, or what this even was.
But it didn’t feel nearly as right here as it had with Reze, not in any sense.
Yet he pushed it down, forcing himself to stop the tears, and nod.
Makima’s eyes softened, and she sighed, a lie slipping from her tongue easily, like honey.
“It’s a shame she only wanted your heart Denji, but it’s okay. You’re safe.”
Her hand moved to gently caress his face, wipe a tear from his eyes, a loving touch that almost made Denji’s heart freeze—it left a hint of blood on his face.
Reze’s blood.
He didn’t forget the pain.
Just hoped that Makima wanted his heart.
And truly wanted to protect him.
“Miss Makima-“
“I promise, I’m only protecting you.”
When Denji’s tears stopped, she felt like the problem was fixed.
She got up, pulled him up by the hand, then let him go. Right before the left, she nudged Reze’s body lightly, enough to make it shift, making Denji grimace.
“I’m only being cautious.” Makima mumbled, glaring down at Reze’s body with intense eyes as they walked away. Denji’s thoughts were everywhere, but in the end he trusted Makima.
Even when he noticed her crush a spider with her heel, and swiftly tear off a butterfly’s wings as they walked, he still swallowed the poison.
He tried to act like nothing had happened, as if he’d never cried, and tried to put all his trust into Makima.
But deep down, he wished he’d chosen Reze.