Angel remained highly alert in the bustling group setting, quietly slipping his gloves back on. He tried to navigate through the crowds flooding the streets for the morning rush, feeling the increased pollution in the air from the vehicles. The smell of oil and gasoline gave him a headache, unlike Denji and Reze, who seemed unfazed.
"Reze, you arrived here a few nights ago, right?" Denji asked, trying to strike up casual conversation.
"Yeah, one night before you did. After last night, I stayed up memorizing a map of the city so I wouldn't get lost," Reze replied. Angel could sense that Denji was struggling to keep up his usual carefree demeanor. The reality of a potential battle with Reze was beginning to weigh on him.
Feeling Denji's unease, Angel grabbed his hand and said, "I'm getting hungry. Can we go find a restaurant already?"
Denji managed a soft smile. "If we can find one, sure!"
Reze, unaware of the emotional struggle Denji was going through, thought he might be uncomfortable with the large crowd. She decided to guide them toward a small café. "Don't worry, this place sells more than just coffee," she reassured them, her playful smile intended to lighten the mood. However, Denji's typically easygoing manner seemed to withdraw further, and he started shoving his hands into his pockets, trying to stop them from shaking.
The weight of potential confrontation with Reze, a fellow devil hunter who might be the Bomb Devil, hung heavily on Denji's mind. The moral dilemma of facing someone he might have to eliminate gnawed at him. "I've killed devils before. I did it without thinking. Me and Pochita did it every day when we could," he admitted to Angel, his voice reflecting the turmoil within. "But what do I do if we can't capture Reze? Can I really look her in the eyes and finish her off?"
Denji felt the sting of fear, and his hands grew clammy with sweat. He couldn't bring himself to make eye contact with Reze as she explained the details of the café from a brochure.
Denji entered the café with certain expectations, imagining a small, cozy coffee shop reminiscent of those in his hometown. However, what greeted him was quite different. Gleaming chrome coffee makers and espresso machines stood on a desk, while glass jars showcased an array of cookies. The atmosphere was filled with the delightful aroma of coffee. Kids ran around, sipping what smelled like hot chocolate, adding a lively touch to the scene.
As Denji absorbed the comforting warmth of the air against his face, he observed Reze. Her eyes were closed, nose lifted, seemingly savoring the sweet scents. Denji noticed a strand of her purple hair fall across her face, which she gently tucked away with a satisfied sigh, followed by a small smile directed at him. She confessed that this was her first time in a café or any restaurant this nice, and her fingers interlocked with Denji's, providing a comforting gesture. She wanted to ensure he felt happy during their time together, casting aside any sadness that might have been looming.
Denji was touched, his heartstrings lightly tugged by her kindness. Despite his initial skepticism, he found himself willing to put aside thoughts of their inevitable confrontation and embrace the present moment with Reze. Her presence seemed to bring a sense of tranquility he hadn't anticipated.
They settled into a booth, and a waiter swiftly appeared to take their orders. Reze asked for a black coffee, Angel opted for an orange juice, and Denji, with enthusiasm, requested the largest hot chocolate available. Denji's eagerness even made the waiter chuckle. He couldn't help but notice the stark contrast between the joyful waitress and the somber devil hunters he was accustomed to in Tokyo.
Reze adeptly translated their orders into Russian, and the lady happily walked away. Meanwhile, Angel examined the menu, particularly interested in the various baked goods and bread items. But Denji was captivated by a particular item – a small vanilla cake adorned with white frosting and three strawberries. The joy in his eyes was evident, a hint of moisture shimmering, swiftly blinked away as if to mask his emotions. He placed his palm gently against his chest, perhaps caught in a moment of deep reflection or emotional resonance. Reze, perceptive as ever, sensed the shift in Denji's breaths, now slower and more tranquil,
"Are you okay, Denji?" The boy sniffled quietly once more. "Yeah... I was just reminded of something, that's all." Reze cocked her head to the side, leaning her arm on the table. She placed her left hand on Denji's. "What are you reminded of?" Denji chuckled quietly. "When I was younger, I had a friend called Pochita. We didn't have much other than one another. Food was kind of rare, so on my birthday, we would work extra hard and buy some flour and sugar."
Reze felt her heart soften. "We would mix it together and pretend it was cake. It tasted sweet, and I had never had cake before. I had only seen it on old advertisements. Seeing the cake reminded me of it."
Angel patted Denji's leg quietly. "What happened to Pochita?" Reze asked. "He died. A while ago." Reze offered Denji a sad smile. "I guess he really meant a lot to you."
Reze was uncertain about what to say. She thought that maybe Denji was adopted, that's why he didn't look like his brother or sister. He was obviously from a difficult background before he became a part of his current family. She had only known him for a few days, but she felt she could relate to him. "I'm buying, so order as big a cake as you like, okay, Denji?" Reze said, smiling brightly. She wished she could alleviate some of his pain, but she didn't know how to. Maybe this small gesture would help?
Some time had passed. Denji was now animatedly sharing stories about his life with Pochita - meeting his sister for the first time, saving her from a homeless man. He left out the whole Chainsaw Man and making a contract part, but the tone was light and full of genuine joy. Occasionally, Denji would have to explain some stuff to Angel, who wasn't very experienced with pop culture. Denji laughed when Angel expressed interest in trying a game called Dance Dance Revolution.
Reze smiled as she listened to their tales. When Denji's cake finally arrived, he dug into the small dessert with enthusiasm, using the plastic fork offered. He finished the whole thing in less than three minutes, letting out a loud and satisfied sigh. Afterward, he had a distant, unfocused smile, like he was lost in a blissful moment. Reze couldn't help but laugh at his silly expression.
Angel, on the other hand, quietly savored a jelly tart, humming in contentment as he slowly enjoyed the taste. "They really are almost complete opposites," Reze thought, observing their contrasting reactions and personalities.
After a while, it was time to leave, and the trio made their way back out to the bustling city streets. Denji, in a light-hearted manner, joked and pointed at the massive statue of the Angel, saying, "Michael, how come you can't be as tall as that?" The comment was made without much thought.
"Why would he be as tall as that?" Reze asked, her suspicion piqued by Denji's casual remark. It was likely just a joke, but an odd feeling tugged at her instincts.
Angel gently squeezed Denji's hand and pointed to a frozen lake where people were gracefully skating. "What are they doing?" Reze squinted to see better. "They are ice skating, of course." she replied
"Have you ever ice skated?" Denji asked, genuinely curious. "I've wanted to, but I've never had the time." Reze explained
Angel tugged on Denji's hand, and while Reze looked away momentarily, he subtly motioned to Denji, his eyes urging, "Go on, ask her, you idiot!" It took Denji a moment to catch on, but once he did, it was like a lightbulb had gone off in his head.
"Reze, do you want to go ice skating with me?" Denji asked, genuinely hopeful. He silently thanked the heavens for his experience in skating, recalling the times he and Pochita had fished in a frozen lake during the winters, improvising skates with old shoes held together by ropes. If he could skate with that makeshift setup, how hard could it be on proper skates?
Denji held his legs stiff as he glided on the ice, struggling to gain confidence and speed. Reze skated past him effortlessly, displaying her skill within just 10 minutes. The fire of competition ignited in Denji as he pushed himself, determined to catch up. He grabbed Reze's hand, almost knocking her off balance in his attempt to keep up. The ice churned into powder as they moved, creating a beautiful display akin to shimmering stars suspended in the air.
Time seemed to slow down for Denji as he reveled in the genuine happiness of spinning around with Reze. Their hands were tightly intertwined, and Denji's unceasing smile reflected his joy. Reze gazed at his endearing shark-like teeth, bringing her face closer to his. His usual discomfort with close proximity seemed to fade in the warmth of the moment. Their hands wrapped around each other, Denji's smile enduring.
In this blissful moment, Reze pressed her hand against his chest, feeling the coldness of it against his heart. Denji's eyes were closed, caught in the enchantment of the moment. He didn't notice the change in Reze's expression as she detected something unusual beneath his shirt. As their closeness intensified, Reze felt a tear welling up, and she leaned in, pressing her lips against his. The soft tenderness of the kiss sent sparks and fireworks racing through Denji's mind, and he pulled Reze closer, breathless but utterly content.
Reze pulled away, her eyes shimmering with tears, and whispered to Denji, "That was my first kiss." Denji, concerned, asked if he did something wrong, if it wasn't what she wanted. She wiped her eyes and reassured him, her voice cracking with emotion, "I liked it, I really did. I just... I'm really happy. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm not alone in this world."
Denji's expression softened, and he gently placed a small kiss on her forehead. They embraced in silence, the world around them fading into the background. Reze looked up at Denji, her head against his chest, listening to the reassuring beat of his heart. "Come on, we have to get back to Michael," she finally said, pulling Denji along
Angel sat on a snowbank by himself, silently processing the touching scene he had just witnessed. A rare feeling of happiness for Denji stirred within him—unusual, yet strangely comforting. The genuine kindness and the understated romance reminded him of a feeling he could scarcely remember from his past. Lost in thought, he watched as Reze and Denji sat down next to him, their presence bringing a sense of warmth to the snowy landscape. Denji's attention seemed fixed on Reze's eyes, captivated by the connection
Kishibe, the masterful devil hunter, found himself amidst a perilous situation outside the military airstrip. Dozens of well-armed men were hurriedly loading into transport helicopters, their movements sharp and purposeful. Kishibe remained concealed in the bushes, assessing the situation with keen eyes.
"Spetsnaz, perhaps?" he mused, noting the distinct patches on their uniforms, reminiscent of the Soviet Union's devil hunters association, GRU division P. The tension in the air was palpable as the man in charge, identifiable by the radio headset, barked orders to his troops. Tankers filled with fuel were dragged out of hangars, and preparations for the upcoming conflict were swiftly underway.
Kishibe attempted to rise, acknowledging the gravity of the situation. "The fiends probably ousted themselves," he muttered to himself, ready to take action. However, before he could make a move, a shout from behind made him react instinctively and just in the nick of time, Kishibe dropped to the ground as a gunshot pierced the air.
Swiftly evading the danger, he pulled a knife from his jacket and literally disarmed the assailant with calculated precision. Keeping low and leveraging the ensuing chaos to his advantage, Kishibe skillfully moved deeper into the shadows. He knew time was of the essence. hearing the whizzing of bullets overhead he pulled a second knife from his jacket and felt the whispering in his ear from the needle devil.
Kobeni sat in the hotel lobby, savoring her meal—a succulent steak paired with creamy mashed potatoes. The tantalizing flavors danced on her palate, momentarily engulfing her senses in delight. Lost in her culinary reverie, she was only vaguely aware of the car that pulled up outside.
As the door swung open and a cacophony of Russian voices filled the air, civilians scrambled in a frenzied attempt to escape. A stern commander orchestrated his soldiers, positioning them strategically in the lobby. Meanwhile, Kobeni remained engrossed in her meal, her focus centered on the plate in front of her.
The soldiers, on high alert, approached her table cautiously. One Spetznaz operative, rifle at the ready, scrutinized the seat opposite her, expecting to find Kobeni. Instead, he was met with the chilling sight of a clone—a pallid doppelganger with icy blue eyes. In an instant, the eerie figure lifted her steak knife, and before the soldier could react, the blade flashed, severing his head from his neck in a swift, deadly arc.
"I think we should stay put," Reze proclaimed, capturing the undivided attention of Angel and Denji. Angel furrowed his brow, asking, "Why?" Reze's eyes sparkled with excitement as she explained, "We've got options—we could hunker down here and form our own trio, living it up in Russia or jet-setting across the globe."
Denji hesitated, his grip on Reze's hand tightening as he spoke solemnly, "We can't." His eyes carried the weight of their responsibilities. "Our sister needs us; we can't just abandon her." Denji sighed, struggling with the conflict within, "As much as I'd love to explore the world with you. id go for the moon and back for you but we can't just leave her behind,"
Denji turned away from her towards Angel; he noticed the blonde hair of disguised Kishibe moving towards them, with Kobeni running exhaustedly behind him.
"We have to go, Denji," Angel looked in the direction of Kishibe. Denji looked back at Reze's watch when it began beeping; the sound of Russians yelling came over the digital watch's speakers. Reze ripped her hand away.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Denji," was all he heard from her before the bright spotlight of a helicopter shined down on him, the blades causing a thunderous noise, practically deafening him.
"Denji, we need to go!" Angel said, his wings bursting from his back, the halo popping back into view with a flash of light. A singular shot rang out from the dark, and Angel fell limply onto the snowbank, red liquid beginning to pool from his limp body.
Denji looked back at Reze, whose eyes were now wet with tears; large streams began to fall from her eyes.
"You set us up?" he asked her, his voice cracking.
"No, Denji, I swear I don't know what's happening!"
"You're the bomb devil, aren't you?" Reze cried, shaking her head.
"I am, but I didn't-" Denji ripped his hand away from Reze; he backed up just in time for a shot to land directly where he was sitting. He looked at Reze, tears in his eyes, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as it tightened in pain.
He grabbed Angel off the grass, running into the city; Kishibe and Kobeni followed suit. Denji looked down the main road to where the statue was; there was a crowd of people heading towards the statue, trying to get away.
Denji's eyes locked onto an old man who focused directly on him.
"Dieter, you have to help us!" Denji yelled.
Dieter simply chuckled and stared on, retrieved a glass bottle of red liquid, and in one gulp, he downed its contents. His wrinkled face turned to a normal color, the youthful pink returning, de-aging him by almost half a century.
"You misunderstand, Chainsaw! I was never here to help you." He ripped his leather glove off; a small metal gear seemed to be jutting out of his index finger. His thumb struck it like a lighter, and a fireball erupted from him. His blonde hair and blue eyes gave way to mechanical objects jutting violently from his skin, a massive tube of something appearing from out of his forehead.
"The flamethrower fiend!" Kishibe yelled, dodging a spray of bullets by jumping behind a car. Denji watched the civilians who populated the streets vanish in an instant, consumed by the massive fireball and turned to ash in less than 5 seconds.
He turned back to the snowbank, seeing Reze standing there. She pulled a piece of metal from her choker, and another blast shook the ground. It looked so familiar to Denji.
"She was the one who shot down the plane. She was the one who got us in this mess. She was the one who baited me and Angel out!" Denji tossed Angel to Kishibe, who caught him instantaneously.
Reze called to him, "Denji, we can talk about this. We don't have to fight. Come with me; we can negotiate something!"
Denji fought back tears. "Look at all these people, Reze. All the civilians. I don't give a damn about them usually, but they were here. They had nothing to do with this, and now they're dead!" Denji ripped open his shirt, feeling the cold hit his skin. He placed his feet apart; he could feel his muscles and veins twinging against his skin. His whole body began to shake in anger.
"I trusted you. Angel trusted you. I always think I can trust people, and look what you do! You always do this! You always play with me!" Reze grew confused; her instincts told her to run and flee, the first time they've ever done that. She put her hand out. "Denji, stay calm. We can work something out. I don't want to fight!"
Denji's blood boiled. "If I go with you, they're going to turn me into a weapon. It doesn't matter who I am or what I do. If I work for the yakuza, they own me. If I work for you, then you own me. If I work for Makima, then she owns me. The person holding the leash just changes."
The helicopters began to get into position to fire at Denji, the spotlights focusing on him. the Spetznaz fired a spray of bullets towards Denji several of them hitting him directly in the chest.
"Leave me alone!" he screamed pulling his rip chord