Archive of Our Own

It had never really donned on Denji, but he had never slept by himself.

For better or worse, throughout his entire life, he had never drifted off to the other plane without someone else being there, either nearby or in the same space as him.

First, there was his mom.

He didn't remember much about her. He thinks she had a soft, kind voice. He thinks that she had long, frizzy, brown hair. He thinks that he had her smile, that his grin of sharpened white teeth came from her. He thinks he loved her. He thinks she loved him.

And then she died.

And then he was left with him. And Denji remembered everything about him. And Denji knew that when he looked at himself in the mirror, that he was beginning to look like him.

But Denji also knew that just cuz he looked like him, that didn't mean he was ever going to be like him.

Nah.

That piece of shit would burn in Hell, forgotten and kicked to the side just as he did to Denji. Someone like that, with no one that he could call a friend, Denji could never be like him. Because Denji had buddies.

There was Aki. A pain in the ass, and a stick in the mud, but every so often, Denji would catch him grinning at the kitchen table when he thought no one was looking at him. Denji would point it out, then he would tell him to kill himself.

It was fun.

Then there was Power. An even bigger pain in the ass, but more often than not, he found that they were on similar wavelengths, often having the exact same idea of a prank when it come to bugging their third roommate.

It was then that Aki would really try to kill Denji and Power himself.

Those times were even more fun.

And, of course, there was Pochita.

The main man himself. Denji really had no idea where he'd be without him. Dead, maybe, but why bother thinking about that?

It was much better to think about what had actually happened.

About their nights in the shed, with just the two of them staring up at the rusty roof with moldy beams holding them in place, and Denji just talking.

Talking about whatever crossed his mind, really.

About his feelings and hopes and, above all else, his dreams. And Pochita would just listen.

He was real good at that. Even though he couldn't talk, Denji knew he was listening. He always was.

They were always together, and now, with him beating in his chest, he knew that that would really be the case.

Because even if they were gone now, that didn't make what he had with any of his buds any less real.

They would always live on inside of him. And because Denji was technically immortal or whatever, then that meant that they would never truly be gone.

Yeah. That was true. They'd always be with him. He'd never really be alone, would he?

…

But as he lay on a futon, staring up at a spotless ceiling, surrounded by the gentle breathing of dogs and a single cat alike, Denji wished that he really was fine with just the idea of that.

There was nothing wrong with the pets. They were fun, and a nice break from the otherwise silent apartment, but still, it wasn't the same.

They were pets. Cute and cuddly and all of that, but they couldn't really listen to him. Couldn't understand him. Couldn't listen to him.

They weren't really buddies.

And because of that, sleep didn't come as easily. Instead, he would just lay there, and think about his past buddies.

And then when the image of spiraled, golden eyes inevitably popped up, he would then force himself to sleep by shutting his eyelids tightly.

It worked better on some nights than others.

"…So I made a gamble."

It was a brisk day, a welcome surprise that came during the transitional period between Fall and Winter.

It was enough to force most people to bundle up, but not enough to discourage them from going outside and enjoying life's more simple pleasures.

Chats over coffee, walks in the park with their loved ones, sightseeing, and, of course, dogs.

The huskies in question were more than happy to lend their services, and the seven canines were overjoyed as they were swarmed by children, their excited squealing further working them up.

"I bet the whooole time, Ms. Makima had only been lookin' at Chainsaw Man, and not me…"

To the side, two men sat on a bench, the younger man holding onto the leashes of the dogs with a slack grip, while the older man bent forward to allow an adventurous feline to crawl over him.

Perhaps you might be led to believe that it was a son and his grandpa out on a leisurely outing, but a single glance at them would cause you hesitate.

The look in the boy's eyes would make you question if he was really as young as you may have first thought.

"That she never saw me even once, from the start."

Denji finished his lamentations, not really expecting Kishibe to say anything in response.

He didn't really have to, after all. Denji was just answering his question.

When it came to Ms. Makima, he really didn't want to cause her harm, as sick as that admittedly felt to say,

There was something wrong with him, he knew that, but that's just the way he was wired, he supposed.

Not much he could do to change that.

As the kids eventually had their fill of playtime, he watched with idle interest as they bolted, running back to their parents or splitting into groups to play whatever it was that kids played.

However, one kid remained, and she was way too close for Denji's liking.

He frowned as she combed Flan's fur with her hands, the dog panting as she worked to flatten it out.

"Hey, short stuff," He called out, "We're havin' a top secret conversation here."

He waved a definitive hand at her.

"Beat it!"

The girl didn't react immediately.

Instead, she gradually turned in his direction, her back still to him but her hair falling over the back of some collared, black onesie she was wearing.

Suddenly, she fully turned, and bit his finger.

He winced, a hiss of pain escaping from his mouth as he could hear the crunch.

"Ow!"

What a brat!

Where the Hell were her parents? Didn't she know that biting people like that was…?

…

…Hold on.

"H-huh?!" He voiced, mouth wavering, "I know this bite…!!"

She looked up, long, unkept black hair falling over in every direction, her bangs moving along with it to allow him a clear look at her face.

She had almost pale skin, spotless save for a mole underneath her right eye.

Her right, spiraled golden eye.

"Ms. Makima?!"

She met his gaze, holding it for a moment, before releasing his finger.

With that, she returned back to Flan, grabbing at where his brown fur clashed with white.

"That kid was discovered in China." Kishibe explained, "I nicked her."

Denji watched on slack jawed as Makima the little girl insistently continued to try to straighten out the hounds fur. She had a determined look on her face as she went back to work.

"She isn't Makima anymore. She's the Control Devil."

Flan worfed, semi-annoyed at how rough the girl she was being, but with not a single violent bone in his body, all that led to was a coarse tongue running against her cheek.

Makima The Control Devil grunted in response to the offense.

"Bad doggy."

He could hardly believe what he was watching.

"That said…" The man said in a gruff tone of remembrance, "If we leave her with the government and let them raise her, odds are she'll turn out like Makima again."

At that, Denji grunted, and his stomach flipped around at the thought.

"Seriously…?" He grumbled, looking back at the older man who gave him a blank stare, " I don't wanna eat any more meat for a long while."

He really couldn't read Kishibe's expression.

It was a toss up between cold hard judgment, sympathy, and worry for 'what the Hell was wrong with this kid?'

"Yep." He said instead of acknowledging anything else, "That's why I'm gonna entrust her to you."

Denji's jaw dropped further as his eyebrows wavered.

"S-say again?"

"I'm about to get busy," He replied, moving to stand as old joints popped and cracked audibly, "Figured leaving her in your care would be the best course of action."

He stared at Kishibe, groaning to himself in a long, continuous string before turning to the left.

Makima The Control Devil was standing there, Flan and the rest of the dogs now abandoned as she stared expressionlessly at him.

He met her golden, spiraled eyes head on, and silently, they held each other's gaze.

Her face was unmoving as something throbbed more and more in his head, and just as the silence was growing palpable, she shot another finger at him, just short of actually touching him.

"Bad doggy."

…

What the fuck did that mean?

"Yeah," He declared, "No can do. There's just no way."

He turned back to the other side of the bench to find it completely vacant save for a fat white cat who sat expectingly there.

Meowy's tail waved leisurely at him as it purred at him.

"Gwuh?!"

As he looked around for where the old-drunk-ninja-whatever-the-hell-he-was may have gone, Makima the Control Devil was already moving.

She clung to the back of Cream Puff, who barked in surprise as she clung to his all white fur fierecly.

She buried her face into his coat.

"Good doggy." She mouthed.

The dog walked around in circles just as Denji finally accepted that Kishibe was really gone, and he saw that she was looking at him again. Apparently eye contact wasn't a fear of hers.

Great.

It certainly was for him, especially from her.

From…

…

He breathed in and out heavily. It… wasn't her. She wasn't her. She wasn't Makima. Sure, she may look and maybe act a lot like her, but she wasn't her. She was just… well, Control Devil was a crappy name.

He worked up his nerves.

"Hey, little girl," He winced at how that came out, but judging from her flat face, she didn't really care. Not that she should, because really, how else was he supposed to start that question? "…What's your name?"

She kept staring at him as Creampuff came to a halt.

"Nayuta." She replied.

Nayuta. Na-Yu-Ta. Not Makima. So… yeah, not the same person.

Evidence was overwhelming.

He grunted to himself again, bringing a hand to his head as he palmed his own skull, fingers working through his own hair as he decided just what he was going to do.

"Gaah…" He breathed. This was going to be a total shit-show.

"Nayuta," He tried, looking back at her and trying to save face to the best of his ability, "There anything you want to eat?"

He didn't give her any time before he quickly followed up with, "Other than meat."

Hopefully that wasn't a deal breaker or anything.

"Sliced bread."

It wasn't.

He snorted out a huff of air.

"Pretty inexpensive devil to keep, aren't you?" He noted.

She raised a hand, this time flashing a peace sign at him. He snorted again in amusement.

The walk back wasn't all that eventful, as as soon as he bought it up, Ma-Nayuta. As soon as he bought it up, Nayuta clamped onto his back like a sort koala backpack, and together, they trekked the usual stomping grounds of the horde of pets, with Meowy in front, leading by seniority.

She didn't say much, not that he really prodded her for anything more though, but there was one thing noticeable.

She kept messing with his head.

Specifically, his hair.

"Are you…" He began hesitantly as she ghosted a hand over the crown of his head, loose strands of hair sticking out brushing against her alerting him that she was up to something, "You good?"

As soon as he said that, the hand moved, and he felt it rest against his shoulder again.

It took a moment for her to say anything.

"…Yes."

He probably should've just let it go. It wasn't a big deal. Little kids or devils were curious, right? It was nothing of note.

Still, he asked.

"What's up with my hair?"

It was small, but since she was literally stuck to him, he felt her shift. The hands holding on to him tightened just a bit more.

"Nothing."

Again, perfect place to end the conversation. He didn't know how to make small talk with a kid. He wasn't even sure if you were supposed. He didn't know shit about this. But again, he spoke some more, because of course he did.

"Do ya…" Don't say something stupid, "…Like it?" God damn it, dude.

His face scrunched up like he bit into a lemon. It really wasn't like he cared if she did or not, it was just his was of continuing whatever this was. Continuing the conversation that was a byproduct of a situation that neither of them had asked to be put into.

Wait… shit, did she hear when he said he didn't want to take care of her? Was she gonna take offense to that? Denji guessed it wouldn't be exactly unwarranted, but he was sure she was probably beginning exactly why he didn't want to—

"Yes."

…

"Oh."

His voice was quiet.

Scraping paws and the sounds of heavier than usual footsteps were all that could be heard as they walked uphill atop a concrete path. To the right, as far as the eye could see, spanned buildings that varied from small one room homes to multi-leveled apartment complexes. Even from here, the wear on the roofs of some of these building were noticeable, made all the more glaring by the harsh orange light of the now fading evening sun.

Neither were looking at exactly, per se, yet he was positive taking notice of it.

"That's cool."

They were both silent for the rest of the walk back.

The wooden steps creaked beneath the weight of many. As they walked up the final steps, he could hear the idle buzz of the tv from the neighbors downstairs. It was this old couple that he didn't remember the names of. They were nice, though. When they saw him crying one night on the stairs, they had given some cookies, so they were alright by his book.

Apparently, the dogs didn't bother them, even with their early morning barking. Perks of growing old, he supposed. Your hearing got all busted up, and you could sleep all day no problem. But then you get all wrinkly, and your hair also got gray, so there was a bit of a trade off to be fair.

Regardless, once they were in front of the door, he knelt down, far enough so that the little Control Devil could jump right off. He didn't even have to tell her to do that. Maybe she was smart. She probably was, actually, on account of her being able to talk and all of that.

She was wordless as he reached into his pockets, digging about in his sweat pants for a moment too long. Probably not the best example as a new caretaker to have to jump up and down so he could get the right angle so he could pull his own keys out from the confines of his sweats, but what can you do?

The piece of silver slid into the keyhold, and he twisted, the action followed by a familiar click.

The door opened with no further resistance, and the pets were happy to bound back in, their mad dash back inside to minimal air conditioning and half-filled food bowls only stopped by the leashes holding them in place.

It was nice that they were excited to be back home. At least someone was.

It wasn't like the joint was bad, though. The pinkish-gray walls were mostly clean, save for a bit of grime that naturally collects over any surface. He had finally taken out the pile of trash bags that he had let form over many weeks out, though even after harsh scrubbing, a suspicious stain still remained. The shelves weren't too cluttered, but stray manga sat around here and there, and his plant, dubbed Denji Jr., was looking strong and healthy atop of it all. He made sure it was always bright green, because originally, it wasn't called Denji Jr. It was called the Great Floral Eco-Deadly Vegetation of Great Stature, Growth, and Presence.

It both wasn't a flower and also Denji Jr. was easier to say.

Aside from that, though, he was happy that the table was clean, but that was only because all the dishes were stuffed in the sink currently. There were some grease stains on the stove, and in the corner of his eye, he saw the lotion and tissues. He desperately needed to throw them away or hide them before she saw them.

Quickly, he turned around before she did, only to see that she was peering into the room with that same, blank look from before.

Her lips were pursed, but she stood just outside the doorway. Her fists were curled to the side.

Clearly, she had seen something she didn't like. As he prepared to explain himself, she beat him to it again.

"Messy." She mumbled, moreso under her breath to herself than anything.

It still felt like a bit of a gut punch, though.

He hissed as he scratched,

"Y-yeah," He sheepishly agreed, "It's, uh… wasn't expectin' company, y'know?"

She didn't reply, but she averted her gaze to the floor. Not a great sign.

"I'll clean up real good first thing tomorrow, 'kay?" He swore. He wasn't planning too, but now he really was. "Until then, just… ya still want bread?"

Again, she didn't reply, but the sound of a stomach growling filled the air. She didn't move, nor did she acknowledge. Not even a sign of embarrassment, nor a sign of what that meant.

"Is that… a yes?" He tried.

Her head nodded as she refused to look up.

"Yes."

Good enough for him.

He held the door open for her as she waddled in. As soon as she was fully in the house, he stepped away and let the door shut on its own. He got to removing the harnesses of the dogs. As he did so, Nayuta claimed a spot against the wall and stared at her feet. He took notice of it as he continued.

He knew that his place didn't look all that good, but was it really that bad? Were his standard just in Hell now? Well, they kinda always had been. Only when he had been living with them had they gone up.

…Whatever.

He hung the leashes and harnesses up before planting his hands on his hips. As she stood still, and he shuffled forward inconspicuously and shoved the lotion and tissues into a crevice while she wasn't watching, he knew it was time for him to perform.

Maybe she didn't dig the place as much as he thought she would, but that was fine by him. He was sure he could win her over with something else, though.

And what was that?

He smirked to himself as he rolled his sleeves up, walking to the sink.

Denji rinsed his hands underneath running water, using an appropriate amount of soap to really get out all the hair and germs on them, before shutting it with little more than a squeak.

He slid over to the cabinets and fridge, the doors opening forcibly as he moved with practiced precision, grabbing everything he needed.

Cinnamon, strawberry jam, blueberry jam, blackberry jelly, marmalade—

 His hands were full, so he rushed to the table, dropping the goods off in a quick motion. The clink of the glass jars were enough to rouse Nayuta, and for the first time since entering, she looked up, curious eyes looking at him.

His self-assured grin as he basically twirled back to his workplace, the refrigerator door still open as he gripped the door, steadying himself as he want back in.

Honey, grape jelly, pecan jam, guava jam, butter—

And, the base of this masterpiece to be, a loaf of bread.

He hurried back to the table, Nayuta's gaze still on him as he shooed away the curious dogs that had drifted close. They were well behaved for the most part, but if he didn't wave them off in time, his meals would very quickly become theirs. Which was ridiculous because they still had food in their bowls, but… he kinda got it. He figured dry food would probably taste worse than this.

Twirling the knife he had nabbed along with the bread, he hoisted the loaf out of its confines. Usually, he preferred his bread toasted, but this recipe demanded bread so thick it couldn't fit into a toaster.

He cut in one fluid motion a sizeable piece of the flour-made food, nudging it to the side as he cut another. In the end, four slices were produced, and as he put the remaining loaf back into the bag, twisting the opened end shut, he caught Nayuta staring directly at the food. She looked just as she ususally did for the previous hour or so that he's known her, that meaning that she looked flat and essentially disinterested.

He chuckled under his breath as he returned back to his handiwork. She clearly had no idea what was about to happen.

Looking at his assortment of gathered products, he quickly began the tedious process of unscrewing them one by one. While the urge to just go ahead and start was great, he knew better than to rush perfection like this.

Finally, he cut four thin squares of butter out, he knew he was ready. Steadying his knife, he glanced over everything, trying his best to still his breathing. He didn't make a move until his chest wasn't even rising and falling anymore.

It was a scene of straight carnage. The sharpened tip of a blade was remorseless as it skewered and spread relentlessly, uncaring of what Denji chose to target at the moment. To an outsider, it might seem that his actions were random, that he was doing little more than creating an absolute mess, but it wasn't. Denji was acutely aware of what he was doing, of what he was creating. He knew exactly what ratio of sweetness and bitter to chase. Of red and violet. Of jam and jelly. It was an organized chaos, one that only he could navigate.

He reeled his arm back, the canvas before him still awaiting the rest as he dropped the knife, moving to the honey and cinnamon. In one hand he shook, and in the other he drizzled. He recalled a hibachi chef that he had been taken to one time. He thought it was lame, and that the guy should've just hurried up and gave him his food, but the people around him thought it was call. A tall man with a top knot gave a gentle round of applause as a horned girl cried in disbelief as the man made an egg vanish beneath a bowl. The chef really didn't know just how close he was to dying that day, as she vehemently swore he was a devil, even citing her nose as evidence.

Regardless, Denji took inspiration from that, as this creation wasn't just for him. No, tonight, he had an audience. Really feeling himself, he tossed the honey into the air, letting it spin before catching it. An especially thick glob of honey came out, but it was just to his calculations, and with a final strong shake, he was done with them. Leaving them to the side and reacquiring his trusty knife, he began the tentative process of sliding the silver blade beneath the premade slices of butter.

He carefully eyed his actions, monitoring the trajectory of his hand, keeping it as still as he could as he hovered over his target. It was imperative that he didn't mess this up. The butter needed to be centered not with the bread, but rather where the rest of the jam and jelly was clumped around, that way the saltiness could best mix with the sweetness.

He dropped the first one on with no issue. Then the second. On the third, though, the slice was slightly thinner than the rest, meaning it had begun to melt earlier than expected. As such, it began to slide off before Denji was ready. In an act that could've proved catastrophic, he flung the butter off. Best case scenario, it hits the floor. It was simple to just cut another piece. Worst case, however, was that the butter fell onto the bread without being centered, thus ruining the piece. Denji watched as it fell, clenching his jaw as he awaited the worst. However, the worst never came. Instead, it landed just where it needed to. He stared in shock, but now wasn't time to gawk, not when he was so close. He shut his jaw, quickly getting the fourth and final piece on, before standing up.

It was done.

His signature, trade mark meal. The best thing he had ever made.

Super Toast.

Sure, it wasn't actually toast, but that didn't matter. What did, though, was that it was the best dish that he could currently make that didn't involve any meat and included sliced bread.

Just as Nayuta wanted.

Speaking of, as he prepped two slices of his magnum opus onto a presentable, porcelain plate, he wondered just how she'd react to it.

When he first had it, he was moved to near tears. Maybe she wouldn't like quite as much, but who knows? Maybe upon eating it, she'd actually crack a smile or something.

He turned, plate in hand.

"You still hungry, or—?"

He stopped himself mid-sentence, the words in his mouth and grin on his face dying alike as he took notice of Nayuta's expression.

It wasn't flat anymore, but it wasn't because she looked excited or hungry or anything like that.

She looked mortified.

Her lips were tightly shut, jaw clenched, and she was quite literally shaking, trembling as she looked at the plate in his hand.

He looked between it and her.

"It's… I call it Super Toast."

Her throat bobbed, and he felt himsefl losing confidence by the second.

"Y'know, it's pretty, uh… pretty yummy when you give it a…"

Her fists were curled up so tightly he was worried that it might hurt or something.

"…I think it tastes better than it…"

She trembled again, and Denji sighed. He dropped the plate to the side with a slight rattle, knowing that it was over.

"Do ya just want… normal sliced bread?" He asked, defeated.

She didn't hesitate.

"Yes." Her voice sounded strained and desperate.

Denji looked back at the table, the four mega slices of Super Toast lying there innocently.

Well… he supposed he was hungry, at least.

Nayuta refused to eat until he had cleaned up the table, and didn't stop staring at the Super Toast with fear in her eyes until Denji finished the final one. His stomach was hurting by then.

He wished he could say things got easier by then, but they didn't.

She would flip flop between looks of indifference and disgust like no one's business, and he would try his best to fix them. Usually he just left the dishes to soak in the sink before rinsing them, but the way she was glaring at them had him drop everything to do it.

The way she rubbed at her arm at the jars haphazardly put back where he had found them had caused him to spend a solid fifteen minutes reorganizing them.

And the way her nost crinkled at the utter mess that was the bathroom had him scrub everything down before running the warm water for him.

As she soaked in the tub, him trusting her not to drown herself as he took the dogs out a final time so they could take care of business, he wondered why he was doing all of this.

It wasn't like he had wanted to take her in, and now, it was looking like he was really going to have to bend himself backwards so that she could feel at 'home'. It was annoying, but he had to now. That's what you were supposed to get when you get a kid, right? Give them a real 'home' that they didn't dread coming back to.

Funny how that worked.

'Home'.

This wasn't her home, and it wasn't his either.

His home had gotten blasted to high Hell, nearly everything within reduced to an unsalvagable state. Everything but a few porn mags, some of Denji's and her clothes, and within a garment bag, a spotless black suit that he saved for special occasions.

He leaned against a post outside, watching as Tiramisu tried to find the best spot to take a dump.

Denji groaned, a strangled and annoyed sound, and he rubbed the bridge of his nose.

He was being stupid right now. He kept thinking about bad crap. Thinking about all that bad crap did nothing but make him feel like crap in return. He had better things to do, like figure out the fate of his late night session materials.

He should probably toss them out.

Last thing he wanted was for her to think even worse of him.

…

He watched as Custared scraped his ass all over the ground, using his legs to drag himself forward with single minded determination.

Yeah, he should definitely throw them out.

He didn't announce it was bedtime or anything like that. One he drew the water that she had used, and gotten some for himself (It was cold for him since he wasn't made of money), he dried up, tossed on his PJ's, and came out to the sight of her already in the futon.

The sight of her perfectly centered in it made him huff out in amusement.

"Comfy?" He tried.

Her eyes were shut, her black hair puffy from being forced dry after many towel rubs.

She didn't open as she grunted in response. Around her, the dogs lay in loose formation, filling up whatever space they could get their paws on without disturbing the new guest. He hadn't considered it, but it was probably really good luck that she didn't mind the pets, and vice-versa. Or maybe she did, and she just hadn't told him.

…Ah, more bad thoughts.

He flicked the light switch, darkness filling the room a delayed second later.

The blinds were drawn, but still, through them, a couple stray rays of moon and streetlight came by, giving the room just enough illumination for him to carefully tiptoe over the sleeping dogs, his feet avoiding their bodies and tails alike.

He would've offered her the bed regardless, but since she had already laid claim to it, it made the choice easier on him. Silently, he lowered himself to the ground, picking a spot of floor that had enough space for him. Curling himself into a ball, he clasped his hands together, before sliding them under his head. It was a trick he'd picked up a while ago on how to make your own pillow with just your own hands. He did it a couple times whenever he was feeling melchonic. Now he was doing it because he had to again. Funny how everything came full circle.

It hadn't been a very good day, but it hadn't been a very bad one either. As a result, he was normal levels of tired. Not enough for sleep to come easy, but not enough for it to come with much difficulty. Plus, since he had already aired out more than enough bad thoughts, all that were left were thoughts about the girl sleeping just a few feet away from him.

She hadn't moved a lick since he had walked in on her all snuggled up. He assumed that meant she was sleeping, but he also knew how easy it was to fake it as well. That same weird part of him from earlier pressed him to say something, anything.

But… this time, at this hour, he chose not to.

Part of it was just because he really had no idea what to say.

In the morning, he could figure things out.

For now, though, they should both just go to sleep.

That's what he told himself as he began to drift off. That they were both going to sleep.

Since that day, he didn't really dream anymore. There was no need to. A curiousity that he should probably get checked out, but he digressed.

It was fine. More peaceful like that to. Sleep should be all about comfort.

Sleep should be easy and warm and furry and…

His eyes cracked open slightly.

He wasn't in the apartment anymore, and his hands weren't under his head any more. Instead, he was holding something.

He was holding someone.

He swallowed nothing in particular as he tried to make sure he was seeing things right.

"…Pochita?"

The shack was dark, but since there was nothing to cover the windows with, the moon light was even more fierce. As such, Denji could see with perfect visibility as Pochita stuck a tongue out, coming forward to lick at his forehead. He squeezed his eyes shut and smiled at Denji.

He let the moment pass, before tightening his grip on him. They were both quiet, no words spoken as Denji got up to his knees, pulling Pochita in as he just tried his best to take in his warmth. It was easier too, since was smaller now too. He was about the same size as he was when he first met Pochita.

He had almost forgotten just how it felt like to hug him like this.

"Denji," The devil spoke, making no effort to move from Denji's hold, "My dream was to have someone hug me."

At that, Denji squeezed just a bit harder, and Pochita laughed. Denji laughed too.

"Sounds easy, right? Except I'm too strong, so it was actually really hard. But you made my dream come true."

Denji's eyes opened, and he pulled back, settling the Chainsaw Devil over one knee as he stared at him.

"Denji," He said, voice soft and firm at the same time, "I want you to grant the Control Devil's dream too."

His beady, big eyes were just as bright and comforting as he remembered them being.

"The Control Devil… she always wanted to form equal relationships with others," he explained, and Denji caught the sympathy in it, "She could only form relationships through the power of fear. So she always longed for something like a family."

A… family?

"That's the kind of world she wanted to create, even if she went about it the wrong way. So…"

He tilted his head and smiled at him, his mouth looking like a w as he did.

"…You create that world for her, okay?"

He stared into his eyes, and Denji couldn't fight the scoff that escaped from him. He averted his gaze as an uneasy smile crossed his face.

"…Pretty sure I'm messin' up already." He mumbled, dissapointed in already letting Pochita down, "She's been here one night and I'm pretty sure she's already thinkin' about leaving."

A rumble of laughter left the orange devil, a contrast to Denji's self pitying one.

"Maybe," He agreed, "You certainly have your work cut out for you if you want to get this Control Devil to think of you as family."

Denji winced, biting his cheek.

"But I know how you can start."

He eyed Pochita heistantly, still unsure.

"Yeah?" Denji asked as the devil looked up at him expectingly, "How?"

Once again, a smile crossed his pudgy face. It wasn't enough to erase his nerves, but it was enough to ease them slightly.

"Give her lots of hugs."

She wasn't sure what to think of him.

He was certainly better than the old man who reeked of all things foul, but that didn't make him good.

He was odd, and carried an odd scent of his own. He held the Chainsaw Devil's heart, no? She vaguely carried memories not of her own about it, but not enough to care that much.

No, there was enough to care about already. Such as this abode.

It was grating.

An old, mangy-like smell, and no order to be seen. It was dirty, as if no one lived here but the animals that surrounded her. Dust lined the furniture, and she could see cobwebs in one corner of the ceiling. Furniture was allocated with no real care, and his personal belongings with tossed wherever they could fit.

She hated how much she cared, but she did. She was annoyed, despite not even knowing why, and upset.

When he presented that abomination of a meal to her, her instincts were screaming at her to toss it out where it could never haunt her again, but she didn't dare push him.

This was a stranger. She didn't know who he was, only that he knew who she used to be.

And as such, she didn't want to have to get rid of him, and she didn't want to make an enemy of him. With that in mind, though, it didn't make any easier.

She forced her eyelids shut, hoping that that would be enough for sleep to catch her, but it wasn't.

Because even lying here, she knew how the area around her looked. How the table was tilted at an odd angle. How the television wasn't centered on its stand. How the books were left lying anywhere.

Even if she couldn't see it, she knew it was there, and the very knowledge of it kept her up.

Why? Why did it? Why did her mind care so much?

She grumbled to herself, her own frustration falling onto the ears of no one else as she shifted in bed.

She hated it. Hated how sleep was escaping her. Hated how weak she felt, unable to control her own self.

She was Control.

If anyone could do it, it should be her. So why?

Her fists balled up as she curled into herself, a scowl adorning her face.

Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Wh—

And then, just in the middle of her spiral, an arm draped itself over her. She had no time to do or say anything before it rolled her over, and a hand clutched her back as another pulled her head into a chest.

Her eyes were wide open, and she blinked a few times in surprise.

Slowly, she looked up at a head covered in wavy, blonde hair. His own eyes were shut, and he breathed lightly. He was fast asleep, much unlike her. She stared.

His mouth was open, and uncociosuly, he pulled her in closer, her head resting right against her chest. At this proximity, she could hear the beat of his heart. At this proximity, she could smell the scents of a devil and a human alike.

…

Chainsaw. He was his heart. How strange. He was a devil too, was he not?

If so, why give his entire being so that the boy holding her right now could use it instead?

…

Later, she could find out.

For now, though, with his hand caressing her head, the fog that had overtaken it was beginning to fade, and finally, she was beginning tire.

Yes. Tomorrow, she could find out, and then decide whether or not to remain here. It was a good plan, as expected of her.

She stifled a yawn, and shut her eyes.

Although, as her breathing grew softer and her mind began to go blank, a single thought crossed her mind.

Perhaps it felt like an embrace, being his heart. Perhaps it felt like an endless hug from someone who loved you.

…

She supposed that might feel a little nice.

When she stirred back to conciuosness, she realized instantly that there was nothing holding her, and in turn, she was holding nothing. She was just outside the futon that she had so carefully tucked herself into, laying in nothing more than a swaddle of covers and blanket. It instantly left a bad taste in her mouth, so she got up, preparing to reorganize it.

"Oh, you're up."

As soon as he said it, her head snapped towards the direction of his voice. He stood in nothing more than a white t-shirt and a pair of shorts, his hands both carrying something. In one hand was a noticeably damp towel. In the other was a spray bottle of something.

The lights weren't on, but the light of sun made its way through the blinds, casting the room in a dim but admittedly tranquil blue morning atmosphere. Her nose twitched despite herself, and she noticed rather quickly that it smelled better than it did yesterday.

"Didn't mean to wake ya," He mumbled, rubbing the back of his head as he wore a look that was rather sheepish, "You can go back to sleep if ya want."

She looked back at the floor beneath her, the tangled bed causing her head to throb uncontrolably.

"Not tired."

"Ah."

She decided to turn back to him, if only to alleviate her own feeling of discomfort by just a bit, only to be met with his back. He sprayed some more of the bottle onto the book shelf, the books in question now organized in a manner that, albiet not perfect, was still an improvement from the other day.

"Figured I might as well get a head start cleaning the place up," He voiced, wiping off the grime that the liquid brought off the surface with a few repetitive swipes of his towel, "You seemed to really not like it and, well… can't blame ya for not wanting to live like a slob, y'know?"

She only kind of knew, and she took notice of the animals nearby.

They were awake, their mouths wide open as they either yawned fiercely or panted idly, tongues lolling about. They eyed her with mild curiosity.

She liked them, even if they were admittedly a bit dirty, both with their constant shedding and disregard for basic hygiene. Still, that could be fixed with baths. What couldn't be fixed was their patterned fur, the uneven coloring and shapes on them clashing with an otherwise admittedly cute appearance.

What a conundrum that her mind was creating for her.

"But, uh, I can finish later. Still gotta clean the tub. 'Til then, you want some breakfast?"

Flashbacks of the horrors of last evening came back.

"No Super Toast, though."

It disappated quickly thankfully.

"Yes." She mumbled back.

"'Kay."

He set the cleaning contraptions as he made his way to the sink in just a few steps, and she decided enough was enough and began the process or redoing the futon.

It was tedious, but she as tucked in the final corner of the cover back in, straightening them out so that no ruffles could be seen, she couldn't fight the surge of satisfication that buzzed throughout her body as she stood triumphantly over it. Even a phantom smile crossed her face.

"Good job."

Once more, she instantly turned to the source of the voice, and he stood there with two plates in his hands.

On each plates were two slices of bread, topped with a clean and orderly spread of single shad of red jam.

"You do like jam, right?" He asked, hazel eyes looking at her, filled with hesistance, "I'm sorta guessin' that your main problem was how messy it was, yeah? Well, right now I only put strawberry jam on it."

She eyed them.

"Different knife for both plates too," He added, quickly and nervous, "In case that was an issue."

It was had she known that he had used a single one for both, but now that he told her that he hadn't, then she truly had nothing to fear.

She reached forward, and he handed it off to her no issue.

"Thank you." She voiced, and she found that she actually meant it.

He grinned, a row of sharp white teeh greeting her.

"No prob."

The two sat across one another at the table, and she ate at a controlled pace while he gobbled with ravenous hunger. At the very least, unlike last night, his face wasn't stained by anything else as he ate.

"If we're going to be livin' together," He said in between his first and second slice, "What kinda food do ya like? Don't think a diet of just sliced bread and jam is good enough."

She personally didn't see a huge issue with that, but she began to think. She hadn't eaten much, all things considered, her palate unrefined as she had usually just ordered whoever happened to be carrying anything edible to give it to her. But then something else crossed her mind.

Something that she knew tasted good based on memories of another her, as well as something she often say on posters and on screens while she used to wander the streets.

"Ice cream." She said.

"Yeah?" He pried, "What flavor?"

He ate the second slice in two bites as she thought. It was white in color. Pure white. Unmarred by anything. It was pleasing to look at. Surely, it had to taste good as well.

"Vanilla."

"Really? More of a mint chocolate chip guy myself."

She looked back at him, letting her stare speak for her.

"…But, yeah Vanilla's cool."

…

Hmm.

Very well.

She would give this 'Denji' a try after all.

At least until he got her vanilla ice cream, anyways.

He still caught her staring, but it wasn't at him. After a few days, she was no longer as interested in him or skittish. Nah, she was way more interested in other things.

Like the spot on the ceiling.

"It's off," She noted.

He slurped down a bowl of miso.

"Yeah?"

"Yes." She confirmed with an assured nod of the head.

Ever since he begun the process of deep cleaning the whole place, it had revealed what wasn't just stray dirt and dust and what was instead evidence of the cheap rent. The dark spot in the corner of the room thanfully wasn't mold, but it might as well have been based on how worried it made Nayuta.

His eyes fell on it, then on her once more.

Her hands were trembling a bit again.

He looked back at the dark splotch on the ceiling.

Damn.

How much did base and ceiling paint cost?

"I think we should get another plant."

He was going over their monthly expenses. It was the last time it was going to be this low, since next month's was going to include her in it, so he really needed to figure out a way to get some dough flowing in.

"Another one?" He asked, turning to look at Denji. Jr. They decided that the best place to put him was the window sill, as his presence didn't add anything to the countertop.

"Yes." She confirmed.

It was an order. He recognized it as that, but it wasn't authoratative or be-all-end-all. It was a plea. And while he personally didn't think they needed another, for some reason, Nayuta did, and he knew it would start to bug her seriously if they didn't.

"You think he wants a friend?" Denji continued, already trying to remember what exactly the species of plant it was. He doubted she'd be happy with anything else.

She shook her head.

"Plants don't have feelings," She said matter-of-factly, "But it's just that I figure having two to place on both ends of the tv stand would look right."

"Ah."

That made more sense. Nayuta didn't exactly think like a little kid. Still, though.

"I dunno," He said, diverting his attention back to the list of expenditures, "If I was a plant, I'd be pretty pumped to get a friend."

A moment passed, and he began drafting a plan for the next three months, the sound of his pen running against paper the only sound in the apartment save for the gently hum of the AC.

"…I think I would too."

"I like the dogs."

He had been hesitant to ask her initially, but she made it easy on him by insisting that she join. It was a matter of feeling responsible or wanting to more adequately divide, though. She just wanted to go outside and walk the pets.

Why she didn't freak out when things outside were messy or not to her exact vision was a bit weird (albiet welcome) to him, but he figured it had something to do with the fact that she the outside world wasn't 'hers'.

That meant that he was going something right, right? Maybe? He didn't really know. All he knew was that she was beginning to open up around him, and he didn't just catch her staring anymore.

She would be smiling too.

He entrusted Poundcake and Tiramisu to her, but he was pretty sure she could handle more of them, if not all.

Right now, they walked down their usual path, the familiars of it still slightly put off at the sight of the blonde teen with eight pets, now even more strange with the dark-haired braided girl who accompanied him (it was a pain in the ass learning to braid hair).

"Think they like you too." Denji offered.

The girl snorted.

"Obviously," She huffed, "I'm a great owner."

She was getting better, he'd say.

"They're cute, a little poorly trained, but still, they're cute. Meowy's cuter, though."

The fat cat crouched on his shoulder meowed appreciatively. It's tail slapped the back of his neck as it did.

"But even then…" She began, and Denji knew where this was going.

She wasn't just a little kid, so he didn't really expect her to be normal, but there was something really not normal with her that he took notice from the first day he knew her. She took notice of it since the first day she was alive, though.

"When I'm finished hugging them, and I see fur on me, I get so mad," She said, and the shame was unmistakable, "And when they bark when I don't want them too, my head hurts a ton. And whenever I notice how their black fur meets white in random waves, I want nothing more than to fix it."

He looked back at her, at how her gaze was lowered and her lips were jutting in a sort of pout.

"I don't know if it's my instincts of the Control Devil coming out, or if it's something else, but… I don't know. I think I like them, but its like part of my brain doesn't."

He watched as her jaw shifted, and her hold on the leashes tightened.

"I don't like it."

She had been getting better, he wasn't lying about that. But there were still moments here and there where he was worried she would slip, and all the progress he's made to getting her out of that blank shell from not-so-long ago would all be lost. And even though he didn't know exactly what to say, he had an idea. Apparently, that was enough, somehow.

"I don't like parts of my brain, either," He admitted.

The two walked side by side.

"Makes me real mad sometimes. Sometimes, the only way for me to really get over it is to pull the cord and make a mess of something else. But that's only, like, in the moment, y'know?"

At that, he swapped the holds of all the leashes into one hand, giving himself a single free one to pat her back.

Her previous demeanor was lost, and she looked at him with a raised eyebrow. He'd take annoyed over depressed any day.

"We just gotta learn to live with it." He concluded, having learnt his own advice the hard way, "It's just the way we're wired, after all."

She stared at him for a few more moments.

"'Sides," He continued during this period of relative silence, "It's not like you gotta like everything about someone to like someone. The dogs really piss me off when they try breaking into the cabinets."

"Or like how you still mouth breathe even though I tell you not to?"

"Exac—What?"

She snorted in laughter, and despite the insult, he couldn't help but smile.

He had learned how to cook somewhat from Aki, but now, since living with Nayuta, he had really decided to step up his chef game. That was mostly because she didn't really like a lot of things.

Pizza? Only cheese. Everything else was too sloppy to stomach.

Take out? Too hastily put together. The portions were half-assed and not to her likings.

Ice Cream? Only the basic flavors. Everything was a bastard that could die for all she cared.

So, in order for her to not starve all the time, Denji was doing his best.

Carefully, he scooped out as close to half a cup of rice as he could, putting it onto the plate alongside exactly seven cubes of beef and six stems of broccoli. They each took off a third of the plate, and they couldn't be overlapping one another.

A month ago, that might've been hard to do, but now? He knew the drill.

He placed the plate gently over the table, atop the new mats that he had bought, and placed it right in the center. Nayuta was busy fidgeting with her glass of water, trying to find where it looked nice for her.

She looked at the plate for juse a moment, before diverting her attention back to the glass.

Even though she hadn't said a thing, he knew that was good. Her not focusing on it was the unofficial Nayuta stamp of approval.

He sat down with his own plate, and the two talked about what she thought about her first day at primary school.

He was happy she enjoyed it for the most part. He knew he didn't like his school all that much.

His feelings changed a bit after her homeroom teacher informed him that she had socked a kid in the face after they spilt some paint on her drawing.

Hmm.

She was starting to become a little bratty, wasn't she?

Oh well. He was sure it wouldn't grow too bad.

The aquarium date had been a disaster.

They had almost died, she went home smelling like fish, and to top it all off, it had been for absolutely nothing.

Because Denji didn't like her.

It's not like it was that that bugged Asa, because why would it? Asa was a total catch. Intelligent, attractive, and fun (In his words, mind you!), she certainly didn't have to settle for anyone below her bracket, which was exactly what she was doing going out with Denji. Anyone in his situation should've fallen madly in love with her after such an intimate and life-threatening moment, but noooo, he apparently felt nothing for her.

Which honestly? It was for the best. Because if he did, then he'd be a Denji Spinal Cord Sword right now. So yeah. Matter of fact, she was glad he didn't like her. She didn't want to become an accomplice in murder, especially in the murder of someone like him.

A stupid, blonde boy who barely even appreciated her fish facts, even if he did eventually reveal that he really had been listenting to her. Who also grinned stupidly at everything she did. Who was surprisingly more thoughful than she was intially led to believe. Who didn't panic in serious situations and thought of her in the midst of them. Who had a bit more muscle that was on display that she had first noticed beneath his school uniform. Who was just taller enough than her that she would just have to tilt her head upwards a bit as he stepped closer, his body pressing against hers, as his shockingly smooth yet firm hand took hold of her chin, guiding her face directly to—

 Jesus Christ.

Her face flushed, knowing she had been caught by the she-devil inhabiting her mind.

"In case I haven't mentioned it enough, you're incredibly arrogant, Asa, you know that?"

S-shut up! She thought back, not wanting to talk aloud as she stood by the school gate.

Her arms were crossed as her bag hung loosely on one shoulder, and she did her best to hide her face from passing students, both in attempt to make herself not look insane and also to just generally hide her identity.

"You're the one fanatisizing about the first boy to give you some attention grabbing hold of your face and—"

Horomones! She interrupted, not wanting her to finish the thought.

Even though Yoru wasn't manifested, it didn't take much to imagine her face of dissapointment.

"Fine," She relented, "It's just horomones. Have fun with your final date or whatever."

It wasn't date. Not really, anyways. But it was something final.

Their final meeting.

After this, for his sake, she wouldn't see him again. Even if they didn't like each other, Denji wasn't in between a criminal or a cat. He was actually a good person.

Well… he was still kind of a delinquent. And rude. And annoying. But still a good person, she thought.

Speaking of…

"Hey! What's up!"

He jogged over to her, his own back pack bouncing loosely against him as he approached. His jacket was unzipped as it always was (How was that not against school rules?), and he skidded to a stop next to her, his self assured grin on display once more.

She did not like it. She did not feel herself lighten up looking at it.

"Hello, Denji," She politely said, because that's how one should greet someone.

"'Sup," He said again, before throwing his hands behind his head.

Did he think that made him look cool? It didn't.

"Here's my super-best-ever date plan," He announced, raising his chin in self assured confidence.

It was not cool. Just cute instead. Stop that.

"The local mover theater is running an all-night movie marathon tonight." He explained, "We'll watch mummy movies until 2:00 AM for only 2,000 yen! Awesome, right?! Let's do it!"

As he spoked with an energetic frevor, passersby gave the two of them odd looks. She imagined blowing them up with her mind. Couldn't people just mind their own business? She couldn't imagine what they thought was going on, but it was most likely far from the reality of things.

For starters, she in fact did not think the plan was awesome.

"It costs 2,000 yen?"

His grin faltered.

"Hwuh?" He said, a sound between a groan and the cluck of a chicken, "But you can watch as many mummy movies as you want."

She scowled at him and his lack of logic.

"Aren't video rentals cheaper?" She pressed on, "I don't want to go on any pricey dates."

He stared at her, mouth open. She was a second away from telling him to shut it before he spoke again.

"I mean, sure," He relented, "That works too. You got a VCR at home?"

"No," She replied, and she watched him wince, "What about you?"

"I… do…"

"Then let's do it at your place," She declared, "It's cheaper that way."

His eyes widened as shock crossed his face.

"Huh?!" And she really wished he'd stop yelling like a kid, "You want to come over?!"

"What? Is that no good?" She tilted her head. Was that really such a deal breaker? It really was a good thing she didn't like him. She didn't like boys who were both stupid and indecisive.

Girl.

Shut up already.

"We don't have to have a date then."

"No way!" He exclaimed.

She watched as he seemed to go through a deep, internal struggle, clutching his head with both hands as he grunted and moaned, as if he were fighting against his other evil self.

Are you seriously still projecting?

I told you to shut up!

Finally, he released his own tufts of blonde hair, his arms falling to his side as he let out a shaky breath.

"Okay…" He got out, " We… we can watch movies at my place."

Finally. A decision had been made. How it was that difficult to come to was beyond her, but at the very least, they were now a step closer to never having to—

"But!" He cut in, ceasing her internal narration, "On one conditon! You have to follow our home's rules!"

She blinked at the outburst.

"Huh?" She said, voicing her confusion, "Rules?"

"Yeah!" He confirmed, nodding his head vigorously, "Ones you can't break no matter what!"

It wasn't like she was unfamiliar with common etiquette and courtesy. She knew that there were certain traditions in different households that you'd often have to inform your guests prior to inviting them over. Still, the way in which he was telling her…

"What happens if you break them?" She asked.

He swallowed something, adam's apple bobbing as a worried expression took over his face, "Worst-case scenario, you break the rules…"

She couldn't help but lean in a bit closer to him to hear what he had to say clearly.

"And you die."

Overhead a flock of birds passed by, squawking and chirping at one another, completely ignorant to what was happening below them.

"…Either that, or I get yelled at real bad."

"Why are those the only two possibilities?!" She snapped.

He raised his hands defensively, taking a step back as she glowered at him with rage. She thought he was being serious! What the Hell was he on about?!'

"Look, that's just how…" He winced, pursing his lips as he considered his next words carefully. He definitely should. "That's just what I can think of off the top of my head, but seriously. You gotta tread carefully. Shit could get real bad real fast if you ain't careful."

"Like you're so careful," She grumbled, straightening back up as she blew up a single cheek.

"Just… listen to what I gotta say."

Her eyes looked back at him, and his earlier swagger was gone. Now, he was clutching both his hands together, his smile much more nervous, yet still just as honest.

Wide, honey-like eyes met hers.

"…Please?"

…

Good God you're easy.

She couldn't give a response to Yoru.

"…Fine," She said after a moment, pretending as if she were going to say anything else, "Let's get going already, and tell me what I have to do."

At that, his more easy-going grin came back, and if he had a tail, she was sure it'd be wagging.

"Awesome!" He exclaimed, sliding right beside her despite her pleasure ANNOYANCE.

"FYI, I do have quite a few rules."

"Yeah?" She asked, semi-curious, "How many?"

"Like fifty-some."

"FIFT—!?"

She cut herself off, shutting her eyes and breathing in and out slowly. Yelling was not the makings of a sophiscated individual such as herself.

"Fifty-some?" She tried again.

"Yeah," He said as if that were fine. Then, hesitantly, he looked at her again, sneaking in a side glare. "You're… cool with that, right?"

Not at all.

"Sure."

He grinned again, and she acted like that meant nothing. She acted like the heat on her neck meant nothing. Of course, it did once he started explaining the rules.

And apparently she was a bore.

Asa didn't know what to expect. Actually she did know what to expect, his house was going to be an absolute disaster. This was the same boy who collected used cigerettes to resell for a quick buck, there was no way he wasn't living in some disgusting backwater apartment. The bigger question was why didn't he like her?

"Because you talk to much," A now all-too familar voice chimed. It was her voice but darker, spoken by the red-eyed ghostly reflecction of herself standing at her side. Asa gritted her teeth, snarling them at Yoru, the unwelcomed intruder who couldn't help herself but to but in on her precious thoughts.

The red-eyed devil scoffed, crossing her arms. The blonde boy led her to his front door, and she braced herself for the pigsty that inevitably awaited her behind that door. Her hand clutched at her brown handbag a little tighter. She stood in her school uniform, she was fresh out of school, having walked out here with this, strangely, blonde-haired boy the moment her clases ended. He turned back to her, his reddish-brown eyes catching her blue eyes by surprise. Her gaze darted to the ground. She wasn't nervous! It was just he suddenly turned his head, and that she thought he was about to open the door, his sudden motion just shocked her a little… yeah.

"Kill me…" Yoru murmured.

"Uh… this might sound'a little weird… but could'ya try not to touch anythin'?" Denji slowly requested like he was in pain. Asa raised her eyes.

"Why?" She questioned. Denji rubbed the back of his neck.

"Its… Its just better if ya' don't… 'kay?" Denji vaguely answered. Asa blinked. It certainly was strange he couldn't give a straight answer, but it made sense. She wouldn't like it if someone came into her apartment and started rubbing their grubby little fingers on all of her things. A twang of something new flashed across her brow. Did he really think that little of her? Did he think she was going to trash his place for a cheap laugh or something?

"I wasn't planning too…" She murmured under her breath. Denji twisted his key in the door knob, producing a click as the lock unlocked.

"Wazzat?" Denji looked over his shoulder. Asa narrowed her brows.

"I wasn't planning to touch any of your stuff! What do you even have in your house anyway? More collections of trash to scam the homeless with?" She snorted.

"No thank you, I'm not touching anything, you don't have to worry about me stealing or breaking anything thank you very much!" Asa crossed her arms with a huff. Denji stammered for a moment.

"W-what? No! I didn't mean it like that 'ya gonna steal my crap or anythin'!" Denji winced. Asa felt a little guilty for mouthing off as she watched his face contort with confusion and pain.

"Just… come inside!" Denji pushed open his front door, revealing the anticipated sight of the interior of his abode. He stepped aside, gifting her with a full view. She cautiously stepped up to the plate, giving him a glance as she contemplated crossing the threshold of his doorway. Why not? And so she entered, and…

"Its clean?" Asa was stunned. How could she have totally misjudged someone so terribly? She advanced deeper into his home, her jaw hanging agape. Besides some dog hair on the carpet, the place was rather nice. The walls were spotless. Her eyes were drawn to the TV sitting on a desk in the middle of the room against the wall. Next to it was another shelf, with books neatly packed together along its top shelf. There were bins neatly pushed into the shelves, with two gray bins sitting under the top shelf holding up the box-television.

"Pfft… you look like a baffoon!" Yoru jumped into her vision, pointing at her as she startled to giggle.

"I hope a fly doesn't land in there!" Yoru jeered. Asa shut her mouth and narrowed her brows, her temper flaring.

"Yeah its clean," Denji uttered.

"Shut up!" Asa hissed at the scar-faced copy of herself. Yoru's red ringed eyes looked past her, flashing that stupid shit-eating grin Asa hated.

"Huh?" Denji appeared at her side. Asa's face went red, realizing her mistake instantly.

"Nothing…" Asa mumbled, turning her back to him to regain her composure. She must have looked like such an idiot. No wonder he didn't like her. This was stupid, she shouldn't have even agreed, she was just making a fool of herself. Maybe it wasn't too late to go home… PAT.

"Are you okay?" Denji's hand was resting on her shoulder. Her face flushed even redder. She spun around so fast it knocked his hand off her.

"F-fine! I'm fine," Asa stuttered out, looking at the ground, her eyes unable to bear the sight of looking him in the eyes. Denji stared at her, making her feel warm with further embarassment.

"'Kay," Denji nodded slowly, Asa could tell he was giving her a strange look which made her slam her eyes shut.

"You wanna watch a movie?" Denji asked. Asa took a deep breath, exhaling before opening her eyes.

"Yeah… sure," Asa replied, mustering enough courage to look at his shoes.

"'Kay," Denji moved to the TV. Asa took another deep breath to calm her heart.

"You're blowing this. Stop acting so flustered!" Yoru snapped in her ear. Asa's eyes shot to the right, giving the devil a stern look.

"You're the one making me look bad…" Asa whispered to her side, keeping her voice as low as possible. She was sure she'd just sprint out of the house if Denji confronted her about talking to herself. Yoru rolled her eyes. Asa looked away, her eyes finding themselves on his kitchen. Even that was clean! There was no stack of dirty dishes in the sink, or food wrappers tossed haphazardly across the counters or floor. For someone so gross, he sure kept a tidy house. Asa guessed that was commendable, not like she was impressed by it or anything…

"Yo! I got a film loaded up!" Denji shouted at her with a smile. She gave him her attention. He was flashing a grin, appearing very proud of himself for performing such a simple action. It was kinda cute…

"What's it called?"

"Indiana Jones," Denji answered, moving back from the TV, picking up the remote that was sitting straight and neatly at the gray box's side.

"I've never heard of it…" Asa moved a little closer. Denji rolled onto his side as he reached for a cushion in on of his shelves. He set it down a few feet to his left, giving it a pat.

"That's for you!" Denji annoucned. The cushion was red with white stripes.

"Oh… thank you," She nodded. That was considerate of him. Denji was sitting with his butt flat against the floor. Asa took a seat at his side.

"I've never seen it either," Denji casually revealed, pressing play on the remote with a click. The TV screen flashed blue.

"What?" Asa wrapped her arms around her knees.

"You've never seen the movie we're watching?" She scoffed. Denji squinted his eyes at her.

"Yeah? It wouldn't be any fun if I already knew what happened!" He rebutted.

"I…" Asa considered it. "I guess that makes sense…" She conceded.

"Exactly!" Denji smirked. She regretted conceding as that smug look spread across the boy's face.

"I bet this movie is gonna be good! The cover looked cool, like a cowboy or somethin'!" Denji leaned back, planting his hands on the floor. Asa starred at the box as the screen flashed black.

"You can't jude a film by its cover, covers can be misleading. It's the same way with books, haven't you heard you can't judge a book by its cover?" Asa addressed the boy without looking at him.

"Pfft, that's stupid, of course you can."

"No… you can't!" Asa insisted, flipping her head to him.

"I can, and I will!" Denji snorted.

"But you shouldn't!" She scoffed.

"Says who?"

"I do!" Asa huffed. Denji raised a brow, then cracked a smile. He started to snicker. Asa furiously blinked.

"What's funny! This isn't funny! You just shouldn't judge like that!" Denji shook his head to regain some of his composure. He looked at her with those eyes, a spark twinkling in them, like the look he had back in that aquarium.

"I'm sorry… you just look silly when your upset," Denji smiled. Her cheeks felt warm.

"I…" A towel or something might as well have been stuffed into her mouth.

"Oh, movie started!" Denji pointed at the screen, turning away from her. Why did he have to look away?

"Oh…okay…" Asa muttered, turning her red face to the screen. That look in his eyes, he looked at me the same way before, does he like me or does he still not like me? How can he say stuff like that and get me flustered but not like me! AHH! I hate him! I don't look silly when I'm upset! I should have told him that… but the moment's passed now, and it would be rude to interupt the movie now. And so, the two sat in silence as the film began to progress. The film opened with a man stealing a precious golden artifact from some ruined temple. The film is portraying this as heroic but I don't know if st-

"To the victor goes the spoils!" Yoru chimed. Ugh. Asa hated when she did that. She still wasn't used to the whole roommate in her own head that could hear her thoughts thing. Asa rolled her eyes.

"You know what else Asa?" Asa glanced at the apparition in the corner of her eye, not replying, becuase she didn't have to, Yoru could read her thoughts afterall, and so she should know she was listening.

"Fortune favors the bold." Asa's vision warped. Her head spun. Her position was different. Her eyes snapped shut, and she winced as she pressed her fingertips to the temples of her head. When she opened her eyes, she saw herself, sitting on that cushion. No!

"YORU!" Asa shouted furiously. The War-Devil had possessed her body, leaving Asa and her conciousness as just a ghostly apparition in the devil's sight. A scar opened across her body's face. It ran across her cheek, crossing over her nose before fading out under her other eye. Another two scars opened on her cheek, forming a star shape with the long divot crossing all the way across her nose. Her eyes were different, glowing red irises glanced at Asa. Three yellow rings glowed in the slightly hooded red eyes. Yoru rolled back her shoulders, all the while looking at Asa with a smirk. Denji watched the TV, utterly oblivous like the idiot he was. Without wasting a second, Yoru planted her hands on the ground and crawled on all fours toward the blonde-boy. He finally turned his head. Asa was petrified as she watched the scene unfold. Yoru's lips collided with Denji. His eyes bulged like a cartoon character, his mouth staying closed like it had a lock over his lips, but despite everything, the suddenness, the complete change in Asa's character, and the millions of neurons firing like collumns of Napoleanic troops in his head, he didn't pull away from the kiss. Yoru's eyes were closed, her back arched as she kept her lips against his. One of her hands left the floor, plopping down atop his blonde head. Denji's eyes lost their size. Yoru pulled her lips back for a quick breath, then crashed them into his again. The boy's tension started to flicker away. He started to raise one of his hands to cup the back of her neck, off instinct as if something was waking up inside him subconsciously.

"BOOM!" The front door flew open.

"ARF! WOOF! ARF! BORK!" A whole orchestra of dogs rushed inside. Yoru and Denji broke their lips from eachother. Asa just sat, invisible on the carpet.

"Wha?" Yoru squinted her red eyes at the door. The light from the outside world was obstructed, by a small figure, with a raised hand. Yoru's eyes flashed wide. Asa blinked, and her head spun. Her position had changed again. She was next to Denji, she was back in her body. Yoru released her body? Asa had no idea what Yoru was getting at, until her eyes caught the glitter of an iron object flying for her head.

"AH!" Denji threw his arm in front of her face.

"CHA-CHINK!" A chain smacked his forearm and rattled as it flew back and hit the floor. Asa gasped as the boy fully shielded her, wrapping his arms around her. He…was…hugging…her. Asa collasped onto the floor, with Denji atop her, his arms wrapped around her, shielding her totally from…

"NAYUTA STOP!" Denji called out. He was so close Asa could feel his breath on her ear. Thank God her face wasn't toward him, becuase if it was he could see how red it was and she'd drop dead on the spot.

"Move Denji!" A young girl's voice snapped over the cluster of leased, barking dogs. The chain rattled as it dragged back across the floor, slithering up like a snake into the pointer finger of the girl, aimed at Denji, or more acturately the girl under him.

"No!" Denji flat out refused, his body not even twitching as he laid atop her. Asa had no clue what was going on anymore. Why did Yoru suddenly swap back? Was she scared of whoever this girl was?

"Who is that!" Asa muffled out.

"Denji, MOVE!" Nayuta shouted, stomping her foot. The boy shook his head.

"Nuh-uh! You're not controllin' her! You agreed you wouldn't control people that don't deseve it!" Denji ignored Asa's question, desperately addressing the girl holding the small army of canines' leashes.

"What do you mean control?!" Asa raised her voice, her horror evident in her tone as her mind raced with possibilities of what could have happened if that chain had hit her. Was this little girl a devil?

"Worse, she's one of my sisters…. I didn't know she had claimed this mutt for herself," Yoru answered Asa's internal thoughts.

"Denji you idiot! That's not just a girl!" Nayuta curled her lip.

"MOVE!!!!!!!!" Nayuta bellowed, snapping her pointer fnger at Denji threateningly.

"I'm not budgin'! I don't care what she is!"

"She's dangerous!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"DENJI YOU IDIOT SHE'S THE WAR DEVIL!"

"WHAAAAAT?!" Asa exploded.

"HUH?!" Denji blurted, raising his head and locking eyes with the black-haired girl standing in the doorway in a plain, tan, knee-length dress. Denji's head snapped down to the girl cowering underneath his arms.

"Is that true?!" He exclaimed, his brows furrowing upward like a hurt puppy.

"Course it is! Now move so I can turn her into a pooch!" Nayuta snarled, her finger looming. Asa slowly rolled her head around to look up into Denji's eyes, ashamed of herself, glacing off to her right.

"There's no point in hiding it now Yoru… they know…" Asa muttered.

"What?" Denji spoke. Her eyes returned to meet his

"It's true… I share half my brain with the War-Devil…" Asa murmured.

"CHA-CHINK!" A heavy metal chain smacked off Denji's back. He threw his head back from the blow.

"OW!!!!!!" Denji shouted, whipping his face to the little girl, his sharp, clenched teeth flashing as she growled like a dog himself.

"THAT'S YOUR OWN FAULT! NOW MOVE!" Nayuta recalled the chain, the line of metal dispearing into her finger, vanishing into thin air. Yoru cowered in Asa's vision, a truly rare sight. Whatever this girl was, Yoru was utterly terrified. Asa supposed that meant she was hopelessly outpowered.

"NO!" Denji boomed. Nayuta's little hand faltered.

"W-what?! Why! Just move already you big dummy!" Nayuta hissed.

"What's wrong with you! I'm trying to help you! Just move! She's the WAR-DEVIL! She's just gonna hurt you!" Nayuta insisted, stepping closer. Denji just shook his head, firm on his stance.

"I… I trust her! That's the only kiss I've ever had that didn't hurt me!" Denji shuddered slightly at the thought, repressed memeories flooding to the service.

"Denji…" Asa murmured as she could see that the boy's eyes were glistening. He slammed his eyes shut and shook his head.

"Wha-I-I-wha-n-no!" Nayuta malfunctioned. Her arm fell to her side, her face controting a wide range of emotions. Why wasn't she enough? Why did he need this… heathen. Nayuta growled and stomped her foot again. The very sight of her face disgusted her. What did Denji see in this dweeb? Her orange and yellow-ringed eyes looked to her arm, the very arm she used to try to fire her mind-controlling chains. Denji seemed ready to die on this hill.

"Nayuta… please… just give her a chance!" Denji started, drawing her attention.

"I know she might be a devil… I always thought something was off about her…" Denji opened his eyes to the sight of Asa's blue irises starring into him, her breath held.

"Just… give her a chance!" Denji begged, his eyes locked on her face. Nayuta was silent. He was serious about this. She looked at the ground. Anything else would just make him more upset… so she held off. A sigh came from her mouth. At least he seemed happy…

"Fine… I'll allow her to stay… for today…" Nayuta huffed, turning her head away as she finished speaking. She would allow her in her house for a little longer, after all, nothing had been moved out of place, that she could see.

"'R-really?" Denji raised his head, loosening his arms from around her. Wish he didn't.

"Don't make me repeat myself! You heard me!" Nayuta crossed her arms, kicking the front door shut with her heel. Denji sat up, perching on one knee, moving further off Asa, to her displeasure.

"If she makes you happy… she can stay for a little longer…" Nayuta mused, coldly walking off, disapearing down the hall, deciding she was done with this conversation. Denji watched as she walked off, blinking with shell-shock.

"Denji… I think I should go…" Asa murmured, slowly pushing herself up onto her feet. She shook her head. She had done enough here.

"ASA! WE TRIUMPHED! WE SURVIVED THE CONTROL DEVIL! HUZZAH!" Yoru pranced around like an idiot in her vision.

"What?" Denji asked softly. Asa winced.

"Its just… I don't want to be a problem! I'm sorry, I should of never came at all! I'm so sorry…Yoru…the war-devil… kissed you," Asa stood, not able to bare looking at him, so she kept her eyes to the floor as she walked to the door.

"Wait!" Denji grabbed her hand. Asa felt her face grow warm again. She had started to hate herself for it, why did she keep reacting like this to the dumbest things he did!?

"Don't go… please?" Denji requested, standing and starring at her face. This was why Asa didn't want to look at him. She couldn't bring herself to deny him, not with that sad look in his eyes. AHH! Curse him!

"Y-you want me to stay?" Asa repeated the request, which didn't make it feel any realer. Was he really not mad about anything? Yoru just kissed him without warning! How could he just brush that off!

"Ya," Denji nodded.

"You're not mad about… the kiss or anything?" Asa asked, baffled. He shrugged.

"Nah, I've had worse," Denji stepped closer, tugging softly on her arm, pulling her into him. Asa's face turned bright red, the color engulfing even her ears. Denji's free hand was on her waist now. Asa made no complaint as it wrapped around and found the small of her back.

"So… that wasn't actually you that kissed me? It was your devil-half? Am I understandin' this right?" Denji purred. Asa was actutely aware that he was taller than her, especially when she was this close, since she hand to tilt her head to meet his gaze.

"Yeah…" She nodded, unsure where he was going.

"So it wasn't you that kissed me…" Denji concluded. Asa didn't want to, but couldn't help it. Her eyes snuck a peak at his lips.

"Do you wanna?" Asa's heart nearly exploded as the question fluttered into her ears. Asa looked at his lips, not bothering to try and hide her gaze this time. Denji's head inched closer. Asa didn't speak, she didn't have to. She simply closed her eyes and lunged forward to claim her spoil of war. Her lips collided with Denji's, taking him slightly by surprise, but just for a second. He closed his eyes, embracing the kiss, his hands wrapping around her lower back, pulling her against him.

"Good work Asa! This is all going to plan!" Yoru snickered. Asa and Denji moved against each other with a steady rythmn. Yoru paused.

"Asa?" Yoru recieved no answer.

"ASA!" Yoru stomped her foot. Asa raised a hand and waved at her. Yoru's face dropped. Did…she just get dismissed?! Asa and Denji continued to press their lips together. Yoru didn't know what to do. This was incredibly awkward. If she swapped out now… it would just be weird… but so was just standing and watching. This boy liked her, there wasn't a question in Asa's head about it anymore. He wanted her to stay, despite the protests of his… sister? Asa wasn't sure what his relationship was with that little girl, but it didn't matter. Denji stood up for her, he trusted her.

"EW, EW, EW, EW, EW!" A little girl hissed, thrashing her arms as she stood in the hall. Asa and Denji ripped apart.

"Oh! Nayuta! Uh…" Denji's cheeks were red with embarrassment.

"I thought you went to our room!" Denji nervously smiled.

"NO! I went to the bathroom!" Nayuta corrected. Asa was mortified, and shrunk behind Denji for protection. She couldn't believe herself. Nothing felt real anymore, it was a dream-like haze in her mind. What possessed her?!

"Don't look at me." Yoru pouted. That really was all her own doing. Asa wanted to kiss him. Yeah, she could admit that. But what had she gotten herself into?

"Listen up! If she's gonna be comin' 'round here then I have one rule!" Nayuta held up a finger.

"NO SMOOCHIN' OR ANY GROSS STUFF!" Nayuta huffed. Denji looked back at Asa. He felt that wasn't unreasonable…

"And she can't touch stuff without permission!"

"Nayuta, that's two rules!" Denji snapped.

"What? I don't want her disorganizin' our stuff!" Denji thought it over for a second, narrowing his eyes. The boy eventually nodded. Those were acceptable terms.

"What about her! Huh!" Nayuta pointed at the girl seeking shelter behind him. Asa meekily inched out into Nayuta's full view.

"Do you agree to my terms dweeb!" Nayuta snapped. Asa was a little fearful of refusing. It wasn't like her terms were unreasonable.

"Y-yes, I won't make a mess with your stuff," Asa affirmed. Nayuta raised a brow.

"And?"

"And?" Asa repeated, confused, was her confirmation not enought? What else did she want out of her?

"She uh… wants you to agree to the first rule too…" Denji helped her understand what the little girl was getting at.

"Oh…" Asa's cheeks were red.

"I promise not to…" Nayuta interjected.

"Go smoochy, smoochy with Denji?" Nayuta place her hands on her hips .

"Y-yes…" Asa muttered with an awkward smile.

"Good!" Nayuta chirped, walking forward and brushing past them on her way into the kitchen. Asa let out a sigh of relief.

"That went well!" Denji commented, scratching the back of his head.

"How are you so… casual about all of this?" Asa was taken aback by how, casual this all seemed to him, like this was just another day.

"About what? Living with a devil or kissing a half-devil?"

"I don't know… all of it!"

"Well… Its not like I'm entirely human myself!" Denji laughed a little.

"W-what?"

"Didn't I tell you already? I'm Chainsaw Man!" Yoru's face dropped. Asa's face went cold. The two were left shell-shocked. All this time, he really was telling the truth?! He wasn't just some delusional loser!? Asa didn't know what to even say. She felt like an idiot yet again.

"W-WHAAAAAAT?!!?!"

"ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?!!?!"

"Stop yelling, idiot!" Nayuta butted in, as both the teenage girl and War Devil donned their own respective flabbergasted look.

Denji just sat innocently, looking a little concerend as she looked like a sorta dead fish, gaping at him as words refused to form in her mouth.

She was still cute in his opinion, though.

For the next fifteen or so minutes, he told her more or less the whole story of how he ended up as Chainsaw Man, with Nayuta helpfully filling in the rest with her own opionion or her own rendition of how things went despite not being there.

After that, she tried to normally watch the movie with Denji, though it was hard to really focus with both Nayuta suprvising them and Yoru wishing death upon everyone present.

At the very least, the hand holding hers felt nice.

She rested her head on his shoulder until she was yelled to stop that.

But as upset as she was, though, the Control Devil gave a small huff in satisfaction at the content smile etched on Denji's face.

Sure, it wasn't from her, but maybe that was okay too.

Some things were just out of her control, after all.