author’s note: first denji fic!!! i feel so bad for him </3 proofread, but if i missed any mistakes lmk!
warnings: poverty and hunger, descriptions of poor hygiene and dental hygiene (pre-hybrid denji, so obviously)
For Denji, common courtesy seemed like five star treatment, almost. A stranger smiling, or giving him a simple and polite ‘hello’ made his day. Although, it happened rarely. Like Halley’s comet, almost. Because for this poor boy, he couldn’t wrap his head around someone wanting to talk to him.
When people avoided him, which was all too common, he understood. The shed that he was lucky enough to call home didn’t have plumbing. He couldn’t shower, nor wash his hands, or clean the one pair of underwear he had. To put it bluntly, he smelled awful.
The unpleasant and foul smelling body odour of a teenage boy, thickly piled onto cheap clothing he just so happened to find. The clothes were already worn, used and stained, when he came across them. But, they were his only option.
Denji was lucky his teeth remained in his mouth, with how yellowed and decayed they were. Not from the overconsumption of sugar, however. But from not even having the luxury of owning a toothbrush.
Nails dirty, hair greasy, and breath sulphurous. If he were the average person, he wouldn’t want to talk to himself either.
But, he was an earnest and honest boy, with his heart fully on his tattered sleeve.
With how unabashedly honest he was, he wouldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt. The ache in his chest didn’t allow him to pretend that seeing a gaggle of kids his age laugh and whisper as they pointed to him didn’t affect him. Because it did.
In fact, he hated it. He hated seeing a boy of a similar age hold hands with a pretty girl as he walked her home from school, or whatever it was that kids his age did. Denji didn’t really have the privilege of knowing what teenagers did in their free time. But he knew one thing.
He was jealous, and he was sad.
“C’mon, Pochita.” His voice hoarse and worn, yet he somehow managed a smile, “Pretty sure I have enough for bread right now.”
The little orange devil yipped, jumping to its feet and finding its usual place at Denji’s side.
And for the first time in a few days, Denji felt a modicum of hope. The bread wouldn’t give him much sustenance, he knew that by now. But it would cushion and soothe the deep and rampant hunger he felt within him. He was sure Pochita felt the same.
Gravel shifted beneath his feet, small stones stealthily finding their way into his shoes via the numerous holes in the sole, as he led Pochita down the dirt path that connected his shed to the city, where he would soon find the convenience store.
The bell rang above his head as he entered the store, and as if he were Pavlov’s dog, he began to salivate. The dinging of that bell meant food would soon find its way to his stomach.
Clicking his tongue, then whistling a short and janky tune, he padded towards the bread aisle. Bland and cheap, but an entire loaf could last him a week or so. Longer if he could control himself, and was willing to consume the blue mould that would soon appear. Which Denji was.
Before even processing a single thought, his hand reached out to grab hold of his usual. A plain and unexciting white loaf, pre-sliced for ease. Exactly what he needed, and exactly what he could afford.
“Fuck, I’m so hungry.” He murmured, a slow grin tickling his lips, revealing his sharp and yellowed teeth. Without a second thought, not even sparing a glance to the price listed on the shelf, he pivoted and approached the register with a pep in his step. He knew he didn’t need to look at the price. He ensured he had exact change.
“149 yen.” The cashier droned once scanning the bread’s barcode.
And suddenly, his happy jitters ceased, and the hunger felt stronger than ever. His one eye flickered from the bread to the cashier’s face, more times than he could count before he responded.
“One…” He whispered, brows furrowed, “149?” His voice grew louder, confused and somewhat angry. “It was 139 yen the last time I bought it. It’s gone up by 10?”
With a deep sigh and the tired voice of a person who had dealt with too much in one shift, the cashier tiredly nodded, “Yup. So that’s 149.”
Still, he threw his exact change onto the counter. Loose pennies, most of which only being of one or five yen in value. Too many pennies for this cashier to want to count.
“I only have 139. That’s how much the bread is.” Denji countered, the top corner of his lip now jutted up, forming a scowl.
“That’s how much it was.” The cashier sassed, using a hand to slide the change back towards Denji.
Stammering through a pathetic reply, filled with the tone of desperation only a person as impoverished as he could manage, he began throwing out pleas. He could at least try to beg before resorting to theft, he thought. “Can’t you just knock off the ten yen? I still have the 139!” As he bartered, he clumsily counted each penny on the counter, as if it would serve as good enough reason for the cashier to risk their job.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t do that. I’d lose my job.” The cashier winced, now hit with realisation that this poor boy’s desperation wasn’t for naught. Upon closer inspection, they could no longer deny how gaunt and sickly Denji looked.
Grunting, Denji muttered curses under his breath, feeling the urge to at least kick the counter, or perhaps a display set-up. But, he found himself able to suppress it. He didn’t want to get barred from one of the only stores in the area who actually allowed him entry.
“Whatever, asshole…” His weak voice murmured, shoulders slumped forward and head hung low as he collected the pennies which he took weeks to save up.
Biting his inner cheek with those sharp teeth of his, and the pathetic change back in his pocket, Denji slowly pivoted on his heel to exit the store. He could always come back in later and steal the fucking bread anyway.
“Excuse me?” A meek sounding, but polite enough, voice called out. And blinking slow, Denji brought his head up, and laid eyes on a girl. A very pretty girl, and one who seemed to be his age at that.
School uniform, and a soft drink held in her hands, beginning to drip with pearly drops of condensation from the summer heat. A nervous, but warm and sunny smile on her lips, and an apple shaped hair clip pinning back the front pieces of her hair to prevent them from sticking to the sweat on her forehead.
Cute. Cute. Cutecutecutecute-
The sheer shock and horror of a pretty girl willingly standing next to him threw him for a loop. And for a moment, all he could do was dryly swallow and stand still. Like an absolute moron.
“Uhm… H-Hi.” He eventually stuttered, realising that this girl would soon begin to regret her choice of wanting ti be a good samaritan if he kept on staring.
With a simple nod, she held up a hand as a small and friendly sort of wave before looking past his shoulder to the cashier. “I have ten yen.” She informed, head tilted, “Would it be cool if I just gave him that so he could buy the bread?”
Not really thinking too much of it, it seemed, the cashier shrugged. “Uh, yeah. Your money, do what you want.”
“Excuse me.” She then said to Denji, squeezing past him to stand at the register and setting her fruity soda down for the cashier to scan, “Just this, the bread aaaand… can I have one meat bun and one curry bun too, please?”
And Denji just stood by. Dryly swallowing his disbelief, squeezing his eyes shut repeatedly as if he were expecting to wake up on the mattress of his dilapidated shed. No one has ever been that nice to him.
And when she turned back to him, goods in hand and a kind smile on her sweet face, for the first time in his life, Denji was insecure about his appearance.
Normally, he didn’t pay his teeth or skin any mind. There was nothing he could do about any of that, and no girls paid enough attention to him for them to really notice anyway. But now, he was face to face with a girl showing him the only shred of kindness he had ever received. And he wanted to impress.
He wanted the minty fresh breath. He wanted the clear skin and nice clothes. He wanted an expensive smelling cologne. Now more than ever.
Fumbling around with all the items now in her hands, she managed to squeeze her soft drink into her bag, before spinning around to Denji. The little plastic tie wrapped around the breads packaging between the fingers of one hand, and the steaming hot meat buns, each in a paper bag, held in the other.
“Here you go!” She beamed, arms of food stretched out to him.
And, at least in Denji’s mind, he should have refused. He was pretty sure guys were supposed to be gentlemen and pay for the ladies, not the other way around. But in his situation, he’d be a fucking idiot to refuse. This girl wasn’t just offering him bread, she was offering him something with meat.
Fresh, warm, seasoned meat.
Not cold and slimy meat from a sandwich he found in a restaurants dumpster, actual fucking meat that wasn’t dangerous to consume.
Soft dough wrapped in parchment paper now in his hand, and a loaf of bread in the other, he blinked down at the food, then to her. “Th.. Thank you, miss.” He murmured, sounding dejected and almost confused. Unbelieving that he had finally experienced ‘human decency’.
“It’s no bother.” She brushed it off, smiling with the unwavering warmth of the sun and grace of a magnolia in May. “I probably should’ve asked what kinda stuff you like, though. Sorry.”
Vehemently shaking his head, he held the meat buns higher, nearly to the sky as if the gods needed to bear witness. “Nonono, meat is good. Curry is good.”
He’s never actually had curry before, so it’s not like he would know. But Denji can’t afford to be picky, can he?
“Oh, thank goodness.” She exhaled all relieved and giggly, eyes crinkled with that girlish delight he only saw on street advertisements for a new shoujo manga. “I was worried you maybe had an allergy.”
“Nope! Don’t got’a allergy.” He reassured her, sending a curt nod her way. Even if he did have an allergy, he’d scoff it right down in front of her. He wasn’t smart, but he knew that you can’t just reject food given to you by a pretty girl. What kind of idiot does that?
Turning her head, summer sun still high in the sky and casting a honeyed glow over her face, she stared down the street. It seemed like she was thinking.
But all Denji could really notice is how glittery her eyes looked in the warm light.
Turning back to him, she spoke “I’ve gotta go catch my train home, but I’ll probably see you around again.” The girl sighed, readjusting her school satchel so it rested on her shoulder more comfortably. “I’m always at this store after school.”
Face softening, puppy-like hope and loyalty glimmering in his sunken eyes, he nodded slowly. “O… Okay. That’s uh… good t’know.” A shaky smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Lemme know if you need anything again!” She grinned, walking backwards to wave a friendly and kind goodbye, before turning to walk down the street, leaving a poor boy with a fresh, warm feeling coursing through him, something never felt before.
And there Denji stood. Struck with infatuation so sweet and cruel he had forgotten about the food in his hands he had once been so desperate for.
He stood as if he were waiting for her to come back. Maybe he could ask for her name if she did. He’d love to know her name, betting it sounded as nice as she looked and was.
“She was... so nice to me.” He then said to himself, near a whisper.
Maybe one day he could buy her a meat bun.
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