Denji felt a trickle of blood escaping from his nostrils in the parched, arid air of the desert. Memories of the battle in Saint Petersburg flickered through his mind, overshadowed like a fading dream. He found himself encircled by several men, marching in disciplined rows that stirred up a swirling dust storm. Clutching his spear and a makeshift wooden shield, Denji was struck by the familiarity of the bronze tip of his weapon and the sturdy brace of his shield, reminiscent of ancient texts.
As he gazed ahead, a vast army stretched out before him.
In the distance, a lone horse-drawn chariot led the procession, bearing a red-stained banner depicting the pristine white wings of a dove. Amid the spectacle, his attention was drawn to a young boy, adorned in intricately engraved bronze armor. The boy turned toward Denji, and their eyes locked in an intense connection amidst the sea of men.
While the other men fell to one knee, bowing before the diminutive emperor, Denji remained on his feet. Anxiety gripped him for a fleeting moment as the boy's gaze continued to pierce through him. Soon, the young emperor extended a finger, pointing it squarely at Denji. In an instant, two men seized him, forcibly dragging him through the crowd of soldiers. Denji resisted, digging his heels into the shifting sands. Despite his struggle, he found himself thrown unceremoniously onto the ground before the young emperor.
"Angel?" Denji croaked out, his voice barely audible, before being struck in the stomach by the boy's guards.
Denji stirred from his slumber, panic coursing through him. He clutched his chest, fingers pressed firmly against it, and gasped for air as his lungs greedily filled. His gaze lowered to his own hands and legs, finding that they had fully regrown. The helicopter ride was in full swing, and he observed his fellow devil hunters in the other seats. Pineapple head, Aki, the one-eyed girl, and Makima occupied the helicopter with him. Kobeni, to his right, had dozed off, her rhythmic breathing a testament to her peaceful slumber. Kishibe, meanwhile, sat in the front seat with the pilot, presumably discussing the journey.
Denji's attention shifted to a black bag oozing an ominous, dark substance that had pooled on the helicopter floor. He wisely chose not to dwell on the contents, understanding that ignorance was perhaps bliss in this instance.
Notably absent was Angel, and while Denji wasn't typically superstitious, he couldn't help but silently offer a prayer for Angel's safety, hoping that he was indeed alright.
The helicopter's descent was marked by a gradual decrease in speed, and Denji couldn't help but notice the subtle swaying of the craft as it approached the ground. This was his first time flying in a helicopter, and the experience was far from enjoyable.
Eventually, the helicopter touched down, and the rear hatch lowered to the ground, granting them exit. Denji had been provided with Kishibe's coat to wear, given that his own attire, save for his torn pants, had been utterly destroyed.
As he disembarked from the helicopter, Denji's eyes locked onto another aircraft, where a team was unloading a stretcher. The sight left him with an unsettling feeling.
When Makima and the rest of the devil hunters stepped out, Denji ran over to the stretcher where Angel was usually placed. Normally, they would feed him blood to aid in his regeneration, but something in the bullet they shot him with seemed to actively hinder his healing. "Like silver to a werewolf," Makima noted, standing over the unconscious Angel, before she was ushered away by a high-ranking man.
Denji held Angel's hand, even though the boy was in a deep slumber. He felt a need to stay by his side. As the medics and other devil hunters tried to transport Angel to the Medbay, Denji insisted on going with them. Kobeni, who had remained unusually silent during the entire ordeal, seemed distant, averting her gaze and shuddering when she accidentally made eye contact with Denji. It was as if she couldn't bear to look at him for too long.
"You did the best you could, kid. I'll give you that," Kishibe said, announcing his presence. He leaned on a pillar next to where Denji was sitting, his gaze locked on the unconscious Angel. "That situation, you should have been outclassed. I had faced the flamethrower devil in battle before, and he wasn't easy to crack, even for me. I've never seen anyone, man or devil, tank hits like that from him. I should have known something was up with Dieter. I should have guessed he was going to rat us out."
Denji turned towards Kishibe, his expression a mix of confusion and anger. "Dieter was the one who sold us out?" Denji asked, feeling betrayed.
"He did. I caught him in the act, so I placed a beacon for Makima, who was waiting in Mongolia. I went to go investigate an airfield to see how long we had before the NKVD would come down on us, but I was caught. I went back to Dieter's shop, and he tried to ambush me. I managed to get away before I went to grab Kobeni so we could find you and Angel. We thought you two would still be out in the forest, so we went there first."
Denji clenched his eyes and mouth shut, frustration and guilt evident in his expression.
"I know I should have stayed in the forest," Denji admitted, filled with remorse.
Kishibe's tone grew stern as he continued, "You disobeyed direct orders; you committed insubordination. If any other devil hunter had been assigned to you, he would have put you and Angel down like dogs."
Denji clenched his eyes and mouth shut, realizing the gravity of his actions and the potential consequences it could have had for him and Angel.
"But I am not like those stiffs," Kishibe continued, his tone softening. He sat down in a chair next to Denji, placing a comforting hand on the boy's head, ruffling his hair. "I once violated orders for a girl," he said, a hint of sadness in his voice. "My partner, maybe 15 years ago, she was something. Scarier than any devil I ever faced. If all of humanity got in an all-out fist fight, she would come out on top."
"She must have had a hell of a contract," Denji said.
Kishibe's head shook slowly, the weight of his memories and regrets evident in his expression. "Before Makima got into the picture," he said, his voice tinged with nostalgia, "devil contracts weren't commonplace in the Public Safety Organization. We had to rely on ourselves to beat down the devils. Or we would consume them to stand on level ground."
Kishibe's words carried a heavy weight as he continued, revealing the harsh realities of the past. "Back in the day, the Public Safety Bureau was more like a military force. Any and all insubordination was punishable by death. If anyone was seen consorting with another country in matters of devil hunting, they were to be executed. The girl Quanxi was from China; she felt a loyalty to her country as I feel for mine. I was ordered to kill her because I was the only person who had a decent shot. I made contracts with the claw, needle, and knife devil illegally to get the upper hand, and I failed."
The weight of his past actions seemed to press heavily on Kishibe's chest. "I could have killed her with one cut, and she would have been done with. But I hesitated. I looked into the eyes of the only woman I had ever loved, and I couldn't see a single piece of evidence that my emotions were reciprocated. So, I let her go. I wanted her to be happy somewhere else. I got chewed out, demoted, demonized. I picked up the drinking and smoking because that's what I thought I deserved."
Denji listened, absorbing the older devil hunter's tale of regret and lost love. Kishibe's advice was heartfelt. "We all make mistakes, Denji. We all pay for them eventually. But now you've got people who rely on you. My honest advice? Don't fuck up again, or I'll hunt you myself."
With those parting words, Kishibe rose to his feet and made his way to the exit. His voice, carrying the weight of his own experiences, resonated with Denji as he departed. "Don't be like me, Denji. Chase the things that matter to you before you run out of things to keep you going," Kishibe advised one last time, leaving Denji to reflect on his words and the path that lay ahead.
He left the room, closing the door behind him, leaving Denji to contemplate his words and the path he needed to follow.
Denji departed from the med bay and ventured across the icy airstrip, resolutely ignoring the biting wind that gnawed at his bones. The memory of Kobeni running off with Himeno still haunted him, leaving a pang in his heart akin to the betrayal he had felt when Reze turned against him. Driven by the need to find Kobeni, he scoured the area, weaving past other devil hunters and meticulously inspecting the hangars.
As he trailed her, he watched Kobeni stealthily navigating the hangar, occasionally taking cover behind helicopters. Denji doggedly followed, attempting to call out to her, but his words fell on deaf ears. He sensed the urgency of the situation and made repeated attempts to reach her. However, when he turned a corner, he found himself in front of the same helicopter as before.
Confusion set in, but it was the faint scent of blood emanating from a small, unassuming bag that made his stomach churn. A strange compulsion urged him to get closer, a whisper in the recesses of his mind guiding him toward the enigmatic bag. Denji reluctantly obeyed, his trembling hands gripping the opening, and with a swift motion, he tore it open.
Green eyes stared directly at him. Reze, lying lifeless in a makeshift body bag. His heart sank at the sight of her, and he couldn't bear the thought of her suffering. Guilt gnawed at him, knowing that she wasn't the one who had betrayed them.
Driven by desperation and a desire to save her, Denji acted swiftly. He bit into his own left arm, drawing blood, and held it above Reze's mouth. Crimson liquid trickled down onto her lips and into her throat. Within seconds, her eyes fluttered open, and her hand instinctively moved to her pin, preparing for a potential confrontation.
Reze's features softened as her eyes met Denji's. "Reze," he uttered softly. His expression held a mix of indifference, a look that reminded her of Michael.
"Denji," she replied, clearing her throat and offering a fleeting smile that faded just as quickly. "I know you probably want to kill me."
Denji began, "But I just really needed to know something." Reze looked away briefly, then returned her gaze to him.
"Reze, did you ever truly care about me, or was it all a ploy?" Denji's words hung in the air, laden with a sense of longing and uncertainty.
Denji's throat tightened as Reze hesitated, grappling for the right words. She found herself in a disoriented state, unsure of how she had ended up in this situation or what the red-haired woman's intentions were.
"I care about you, Denji," she admitted, offering a faint smile that brought back memories of Makima's deceptive grins. Denji's grip tightened on his ripcord, frustration evident in his eyes. 'Don't lie to me' was all he said, his voice wavered, and tears welled up in Denji's eyes. He couldn't fathom that someone could genuinely care for him. He was plagued by self-doubt, convinced that everyone who ever cared about him, aside from Angel and Kobeni, merely used him as a weapon. Thoughts about his height, his appearance, and his poverty swirled in his mind, doubts that had never troubled him before now inundated his thoughts.
"Please," Denji pleaded, a desperate plea escaping his lips. Reze leaned forward, and his head found solace against her shoulder as he sobbed. She traced soothing circles on his back.
"Denji," Reze's voice was gentle as she tried to console him, "my mission was to shoot down that plane. It was never about capturing you or using you."
Denji lifted his head to meet her gaze, his eyes shimmering with tears.
"I do care for you, Denji. I don't care about anything else," Reze continued, her sincerity clear. "I was being honest when I said we could run off together, just us. We can take your sister and your broth—" She corrected herself, remembering that they weren't actually siblings. "We can take Angel and your squadmates, and we can find a place where no one can find us." Denji shook his head firmly. "I can't." Reze inquired, "Why not, Denji?" "I made a contract. If Kobeni leaves, then maybe, but I promised Angel I would kill Makima." Denji looked directly into her eyes, his features revealing his inner turmoil. Reze's focus shifted, and she gazed into the distance."If we have to eliminate Makima to secure your and Angel's freedom and protect Kobeni," she paused, seeking Denji's affirmation.Denji, still sniffling, nodded in agreement. "Yes."Reze's tone grew resolute. "If we need to kill Makima to gain freedom for you and Angel and to protect Kobeni, then I'll do it."
Denji gazed at her with sparkling eyes. "I care about you, Denji. Let me prove it to you. Let me prove it wasn't a lie." A warm smile spread across her face, and Denji's shark-like teeth transformed into a smile as well. He wiped his nose with his arm and, with newfound determination, picked Reze up out of the body bag. "Please wait here. I'll be right back. I need to settle something."
"Okay," Reze said, sitting down in the helicopter as Denji got up. "I'll be right back, okay?" Denji wandered through the barracks' unfamiliar halls, the complex Kanji characters eluding his understanding. Amidst the rows of makeshift beds, he spotted someone standing near one of them. He hastened toward that figure, calling out to her using her nickname, "Beni!" Even at a distance, he could see Kobeni startle, her body trembling. "Kobeni, I wanted to talk with you," Denji explained.
Slowly, Kobeni turned to face him, her countenance marked by fear. As he drew closer, he observed her reach inside her coat, prompting him to halt. Confusion crept over his features. "Kobeni?"
Kobeni's tone was cautious as she uttered, "That's close enough," revealing the glint of a knife tucked within her coat.
Denji, perplexed, inquired, "Kobeni, what happened?"
"You happened! You went crazy and attacked a bunch of people!" Kobeni's voice grew louder, and her frustration was evident. "They attacked Angel! I had to do something!"
Denji shrank back as Kobeni raised her voice. "If you had just stayed in the forest like Kishibe told you, this wouldn't have happened, Denji!"
Kobeni's emotions swirled in a tumult of anger and fear. "All those people who had nothing to do with it... all of them died because of you. You ate Dieter."
"Dieter betrayed us! He's the one who called the NKVD and told them where we were!"
"If you had just listened to Kishibe! If you had just listened to me, we wouldn't have had to fight. I wouldn't have had to hurt anyone!" Kobeni's anger welled up.
"I can't stand it, Denji! You swore to protect me, but I've been in more danger in the last week with you around than I have for months devil hunting!"
Kobeni scowled at him. "It's only a matter of time until you get me or Angel hurt again!" She tried to move past him, but he grabbed her arm. In response, he felt the sharp edge of a knife against his throat. Kobeni was in tears, her eyes filled with pain, but Denji didn't release his grip.
Drawing her closer, he placed her hand against his chest. "Do you feel that?" Kobeni remained silent. "That's proof. That's proof that no matter what, until it stops, until I lose every one of my limbs or lose my life, I will always do whatever it takes to protect you, whether you like it or not. We're stuck together, and even if I have to fight the whole damn world, I'll do it if it means keeping you safe."
Kobeni's face flushed as she realized he mentioned just her. She still tried to maintain an angry facade, but Denji locked eyes with her. "I promise you, no matter what, I will always be there. I won't make the same mistake as last time."
Kobeni pulled her arm free, and out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her doppelganger silently clapping while observing the two.
Denji pulled Kobeni into a warm embrace, her arms hanging limply at her sides. "I'm sorry. I'll do my best to stay safe, okay? For you," he promised.
Kobeni hesitated for a moment, but then her hands gradually rose to return the hug. She held on tightly and slowly began sobbing into the comfort of Denji's jacket.
Reze sat in the hangar, her ears tuned in to the distant radio. She could make out brief reports about the chainsaw devil's appearance and the tragic deaths of numerous civilians, as well as the loss of several squads of Spetsnaz troopers.
Leaning back in the helicopter seat, she let out a deep sigh and made a conscious choice to ignore the grim reports. It seemed like everyone else wished they could do the same.