Hiii I’m the same anon who request rich reader and Denji could I request soemthing a hit more specific like reader finding out how Denji used to live and spending the day absolutely showering him in luxuries?
Feel free to ignore and have a lovely day/night!!!
hi anon!! I love this, ofc!!
here's your request !!! <3
spoiling denji for a day !!
He never told you much about before.
Not really. Just pieces- half sentences, half laughs. Enough for you to put it together: how small his life used to be, how empty it was.
When you found out, he laughed it off, scratching his neck like it was nothing. "Not a big deal," or at least that what he said.
But it was a big deal.
Because the way he said it- so casual, so normal- made your stomach twist.
So you made it your mission.
It started with breakfast.
He woke up in your apartment to the smell of something actually cooked. Not from a pan that looked like it had seen war, not burnt convenience food- real food.
“You… made all this?” Denji asked, blinking at the spread like it was a magic trick.
“Mmhm. Eat up.”
He hesitated, then stuffed half a pancake in his mouth and mumbled through it, eyes wide.
"Wooahhh, This is- This is good.”
And that was only the beginning.
You dragged him out for the day—no warning, no explanation. Just,
"Put on something nice.”
“Do I even have something nice?”
“You do now.”
He complained the whole car ride, half whining, half smiling, until you pulled up to a mall so big it made him go quiet.
"Uh. Babe? I think we made a wrong turn. I don’t belong here.”
“You do today.”
Inside, you picked things he’d never even think to touch. Clothes that didn’t itch. Shoes that actually fit.
He tried to argue, of course.
"This stuff’s expensive. You don’t gotta—”
“I want to.”
He didn’t know how to argue with that.
Lunch was next.
A restaurant with linen napkins and real glasses of water instead of plastic cups. The kind of place where the chairs didn’t wobble and no one yelled in the kitchen.
He held the menu like it was written in another language.
"They got pictures?”
You smiled. “No, but I’ll help you pick.”
He ordered what you recommended, and when the food came, he looked almost scared to touch it.
“Feels like they’re gonna kick me out if I drop my fork or somethin’.”
He just stared at his plate for a moment before whispering,
“Man, this is nuts.”
You leaned your chin in your hand, watching him eat- slowly, carefully, like every bite was something sacred.
By the time you reached the park that evening, his arms were full of shopping bags and he’d stopped trying to protest.
The sky was pink. And Denji was quiet- quiet in a way that didn’t feel awkward.
He dropped onto the grass with a sigh, spreading out the bags beside him.
"You know… no one’s ever done anything like this for me before.”
You lay down next to him, staring up at the sky. “You deserve nice things.”
"Yeah, but…” he rubbed the back of his neck. “I dunno how to say this without sounding dumb. I just- 'M not used to it. Feels weird. Like I’m gonna wake up and it’ll all be gone.”
You turned your head toward him. “It’s not going anywhere.”
He swallowed, eyes flicking from your face to the clouds. His voice cracked a little when he said,
“You really mean that, huh?”
"Every word.”
For a long moment, he didn’t say anything. Just stared up at the fading sky, blinking fast.
Then, softly-
“Thanks. For treating me like I’m… worth something.”
The words hit you harder than he probably meant them to.
You reached over, brushing your fingers against his. “You’ve always been worth something, Denji. You just didn’t have anyone to remind you.”
He turned his hand over, letting you hold it.
No more jokes. No awkward laughter. Just warmth- real, steady warmth.
Later, back home, you found him sitting on the edge of your bed, staring at one of the shirts you bought him.
“You okay?”
He nodded slowly. “Yeah. Just thinkin’.”
You sat beside him.
"About what?”
"I used to dream about stuff like this. Food. A bed. Someone who gave a crap.”
He looked at you, eyes glassy but soft.
“Feels like I’m livin’ someone else’s life.”
You smiled, reaching up to smooth his messy hair back. “Then it’s about time you live yours.”
He leaned into your touch, just a little.
He didn’t know what to say after that, so he didn’t say anything at all.
He just wrapped his arms around you and held you like he finally believed it- like all those empty spaces in his life had found a place to rest.
And for the first time, Denji didn’t feel like he was stealing a piece of happiness.
Summary: After a tragic accident leaves you penniless and orphaned, the only logical option for you is joining the one organization you said you never would. You end up with so much more than you could’ve ever bargained for.
CW: 18+ content, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation + depression, angstttt, plot heavy world building, romanticization of a bunch of shit tbh, the smut will come later lol, slow burn, enemies(?) to lovers, power imbalances, workplace relationship, canon adjacent timeline, devil hunting, blood, gore, all that nonsense
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Kuraokami (闇龗); a legendary Japanese dragon and Shinto deity of ice, rain, snow and winter.
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You never wanted to join public safety.
Who did? Was there truly a person on this earth with dreams and aspirations to become a devil hunter, of all things? To lay down your life, for hardly any benefit? To engage in a war that has already proven itself to be fruitless?
Who could that possibly appeal to?
Not you, that was for sure.
You had a stable life. A good life. The type of life people would deny for its simplicity. A father, and mother - still just as in love as the day they had met each other. A younger sister, who looked up at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky. An older brother, who treasured you more than anything, but would never admit it to your face.
It was well-rounded on all fronts, nothing left to desire. A good school, that your parents paid for. A casual love-life, but only because you wanted it to be that way.
Whatever you wanted, you got. That's the way things had always been. You never desired anything for long before it was already clutched between your soft hands, framed by fingernails without so much as a chip in the polish.
It was good. It was good. A good enough life to almost forget of the horrors that swirled within the air of the streets you walked. A good enough life to be able to watch the news as if it were a movie - watching with entertainment more than anything as martyrs dressed in suits took down the sixth devil that week.
You could afford to view it through a lens of a sensationalist, because you had never encountered a devil. Never even been close to one. It was almost... a fantasy. Something that had been drilled into your brain to know was real - but it just couldn't be.
Until you saw it for yourself, it couldn't be.
And maybe, you had thought that to yourself one too many times. Maybe, you had thought your own tragedy into existence. Your mother had always told you that words held a lot of weight, and to be careful with the things that you say, because the universe may hear you and take you up on it.
Maybe thoughts worked just in the same way.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
So many uncertainties, and questions unanswered, but one thing remained a universal truth.
That comfortable, cushy life that had been your entire world, was no longer. All that remained was crime scene tape still lingering around the broken bits of your old home, and four stones in the ground.
Of course you had to live. It would only be too easy on you, if you had bit the bullet with the rest of them. You had been selfish when it happened anyway; skipping a pre-planned family dinner to rendezvous with your boyfriend-of-the-week.
If you had been there, you could be with them right now.
But you weren't, and so here you stand.
"It wasn't your time."
You had been so lost in your thoughts that you had all but forgotten that you weren't alone. Despite the overwhelming sinking feeling in your chest as you stared down at four slabs of granite in the ground - the cool stone almost taunting you.
'You should've been there. You should be here right now'.
"I think it was." You turn your head to finally meet the gaze of the person that had brought you here, to this godforsaken graveyard. A devil hunter, like you were about to be. A tall, older man, and you could tell that back in his day he must've been handsome. He still was, even with that nasty scar splitting his cheek. 'Kishibe.' He had told you. 'But I'd prefer it if you called me master.'
'I'm sure you would.' You had thought to yourself.
You watch as Kishibe raises an eyebrow, his shoes crunching fallen autumn leaves under them as he takes a step forward. His hands are in his pockets, a cigarette perched between his lips, with a look in his eye that you've come to realize is quite common among hunters.
Apathy. Could you blame them?
"Yeah? Then why am I standing here with you right now?" He asks gruffly, undeniable disinterest dripping from his words. He gave the air of someone who had been through this whole charade, time and time again. "If it was your time, you'd be in the ground with the rest of them."
He lifts a hand from his pocket to pluck the cigarette from his lips, tapping it and letting the ash fall to the ground. "Clearly, you've got more to prove. This world just isn't done with you yet.”
Your shoulders fall, and you glance back down at the ground where the graves of your family lay. Where their bodies lay - just six feet beneath the soles of your shoes. It doesn't matter how many times you're told that, not really, because you'll never believe it.
It's a mistake, a miscalculation on fate's part. That's the only reason that you're still kicking around. You have nothing left to prove, nothing left to give, not when everything you loved was swept out from underneath you.
"I'll take your word for it, if you're so sure." You murmur, breathing out an exhale of warm breath in the frigid October air. It's a lie, and you're fairly certain that he can see through that, but you also know that he won't comment on it.
Lie to him, lie to yourself, he doesn't care. So long as you've got the drive to make training you worthwhile. He's been quite easy to read, in the few weeks that you've known him.
"Don't think I'm stupid." Kishibe hums, his eyes tracking your every subconscious movement as he takes another drag - blowing acrid grey smoke into the crisp fall air. You scrunch your nose up, and his eyes soften for just a moment with amusement. "I've gathered enough about you in the small time we've known each other to know why you joined public safety." He reaches forwards, and brushed a spec of dirt off of the collar out your suit jacket. "You're not here to make a difference. You're practically giving yourself up as an offering."
Your face twists at his words, a mixture of disbelief and offence from the blight spoken so bluntly. You take a step back, completely aghast. "You're just trying to go out the same way they did, right?" Kishibe nods his head towards the gravestones. "Dying at the hands of a devil, wouldn't that make you feel complete?"
"You have no idea what you're talking about." You all but hiss, your voice clipped and bordering on the line of insubordination. You didn't care though, not when the beast before you was chewing your trauma between his teeth.
"Don't I?" Kishibe asks, cocking his head to the side a little bit. "This isn't my first day on the job, you know. You're not as unique as you think - I've seen dozens just like you." He takes one final drag of his cigarette, before dropping it to the ground and snuffling it out beneath his boot - twisting his heel on it for good measure. "Once bright-eyed and innocent, blind to the horrors of our world." A gust of wind blows past the two of you, and you're not sure if the shiver you feel is from that, or from his words. "But then, the horrors reveal themselves when you least expect it. Snatching away mom and dad," His eyes glance to the graves once more. "Or maybe a whole family."
You want him to stop talking. His words ring in your ears, swirl around your thoughts like some sort of venom - and it makes your head pound. "With nothing left, what else is there to do but throw yourself into the pit of wolves that mauled your old life?"
Your old life. Coated in crimson. The punchline of the joke that is this world you live in. You don't speak. You don't feel like you can. Not when he's reading you like a book made for preschoolers. So agonizingly easy. "If you're hell-bent on suicide, that's your own issue. But wasting my time, that's where it falls into my realm."
You narrow your eyes, your eyes going cold at the complete disregard for your emotions.
"I'm not wasting your time." You answer back, completely skimming over his first point on purpose.
He notices that, and his lips twitch downwards.
"I don't believe that for a second." He answers immediately, not an ounce of sympathy in his tone. You wonder to yourself, if all devil hunters carry themselves in such a way. They must. How could you harbour room for compassion when you were already stuffed full of grief? "You haven't done... horrible in training, but do you have the drive to fight? The courage to cling to your life by the skin of your nails, while death claws at your ankles?"
Kishibe lets out a soft huff, reaching a hand up to rub his eyes tiredly. "I just don't like putting my effort into something that's predetermined to fail. It's pointless, and exhausting.”
"I'm not wasting your time." You grit out again, with more conviction than last time. You still don't fully believe it, but you'll be damned if you admit that he's right. Which he very well is, but he won't ever hear that spoken aloud. Not from you. "I didn't join just to go out with a bang. I want... To do good. To make things right for me again."
"Make things right?" Kishibe raises an eyebrow. "Nothing in this world is right. Just tell it like it is; you want revenge."
Revenge? Hardly. Penance, maybe.
"Sure." You shrug, before crossing your arms over your chest. "Revenge mission, whatever. Will that make you take me more seriously?"
Kishibe's expression doesn't really change much, but you can tell that he's not pleased by your answer. The wind whistles, leaves bristle, and his eyes are cold.
"I'm not sure if anything will." He answers, before suddenly turning on his heel. "Though, I suppose it doesn't matter much. You won't be my issue for much longer anyway."
You narrow your eyes, immediately following after him when he starts walking back towards the car he had driven you here in. The graves of your family stay rooted in the ground, watching on as you walk away from them once more.
"The hell's that mean?" You ask, quickly stalking over to match his pace. It's not a difficult task, when he's not training you ruthlessly he always moves at a leisurely pace. "You're giving up on me?"
"Don't be so dramatic." Kishibe huffs out in a gruff voice, looking down at you with a hint of annoyance flashing in his dark eyes. "I've only been here to train you, and you're trained. As much as you can be, I suppose."
He opens the driver's side of the door, gesturing for you to get inside when he does so. You bite back the urge to roll your eyes at the prospect of chauffeuring around your superior in both age and status - but you smelled liquor on his breath on the way here, and so you knew that there was no choice in the matter. You get in the car, buckle your seatbelt, and stick the key in the ignition whilst Kishibe clambers into the passenger seat from the other side. "I've done all that I can, the rest is up to you, and whatever poor soul they decide to stick you with."
"A partner?" You ask, checking your rear view mirror as you shift the car into gear. From your peripheral, you see Kishibe nod as he pulls out a flask from his inner jacket pocket. Christ. You could smell the stench of it from a seat over.
"A partner." He answers gruffly after taking a swig, then wiping his mouth on his sleeve - seeping more liquor into the already drunken fabric. "Don't know who, so don't ask me." He gives you a sidelong glance, and you purse your lips as you start driving - one hand on the wheel, one anxiously tapping against the shift knob.
"C'mon, you have to know. Aren't you close with Miss Makima?" You ask, and even out of the corner of your eyes you can see the way his expression immediately hardens. Sore spot. You note to yourself. "You don't know anything?"
"Nothing." He answers back, directing his gaze out the window, watching as various buildings blur past on the way back to the public safety headquarters. "But I can give you my best guess, if you want."
You immediately nod, the high points of your face illuminated in bright red as you stop at a light. You take that moment of break to look at him, your eyes curious. There weren't many names that you knew around headquarters yet, but you knew enough to know exactly who you didn't want to be partnered up with. You could barely deal with Kishibe, some of these others you've heard about might just kill you before the devils do.
"Eager." Kishibe snorts softly. "My bets are placed on Aki, probably." He hums after a moment, gaze still cast out the window. "He just lost his partner, and Makima has quite the habit of placing him with partners that would drive him insane." He glances over at you. "Which you definitely would."
You furrow your eyebrows together. Aki. Have you heard that name before? Aki... who? You pick your brain, trying to place the name to a face, or even just a preconceived notion. Your face illuminates with green, and you don't even notice. Kishibe nudges you with his shoulder. "Drive, kid."
And you do, eyes immediately widening as you turn your gaze back to the road and accelerate again. Aki. You think on it for a few long moments, barely even paying attention to the traffic in front of you, more so just autopiloting as your mind runs amuck trying to find a match for that name.
And then, click.
"Aki Hayakawa?" You ask, fingers drumming on the shift knob. Kishibe nods, and you curse inwardly.
"That's the one." He answers lazily. "You've heard of him, clearly."
You shrug, flicking on your signal before taking a right.
"Here and there." You nod. "Heard he's a hard-ass."
Kishibe lets out a short, amused huff of laughter before crossing his arms over his chest. If you didn't know any better, you think you might've saw his lips twitch up just a little at the corners.
"You've heard correct, but it's not for no reason." He pauses, before his gaze drifts towards you once more. "And the more I think about it, the more I think you'd make a okay match." You open your mouth to say something, but he continues before you can. "Again, this is just a guess. So take it with a grain of salt."
"Noted." You mutter softly, and the rest of the car ride is silent after that. Aki Hayakawa. You had heard that name, once or twice in passing. The first thing you had thought when you did, was that it was a lovely name. Aki, meaning 'bright'. Hayakawa, meaning 'fast river'. An almost graceful name, held by someone who seemed to be anything but.
All you had ever heard about Aki could be summed up in three short words. Cold. Strict. Blunt. You had heard variations of the same thing over and over again, painting the portrait of a man who had never once smiled. Not that anyone had seen, anyway.
He was young, but he had risen up through the ranks rather quickly - not from favouritism over his good looks (which you had heard quite a bit about too), but because of his drive and undeniable skill. Three more words for him; Quick, efficient, lethal.
You’re less so dreading meeting him, more just undeniably nervous.
Not that it mattered anyway, it was just Kishibe’s guess.
You were probably worrying for nothing.
“Makima’s gonna call you up to her office not long after you get in there.” Kishibe speaks, nodding his head towards the building when you pull into the parking lot of public safety. “Whoever it ends up being, don’t waste their time either.”
You pull the key out of the ignition, and the car rumbles to a stop. You look up at the building in front of you, at the place that you never once thought you’d have a reason to step foot into. The place that has given you this uniform, to crudely bandage the scars of your trauma.
“I won’t.” You mutter, though the words taste bitter on your tongue. Spitting out promises that you’re not quite sure you can keep. “Have some faith in me, would you?”
Kishibe hums, before reaching out and patting your shoulder once - the gesture being the stent of his friendliness. “Not likely. But don’t prove me right.”
He offers you his form of a smile, a numb imitation of the thing, before his hand leaves your shoulder and then he’s opening the passenger door and stepping out. You watch him as he leaves for a few moments, still frozen in your seat as he walks towards the building. You know you need to get up, but you find yourself not wanting to. Unable to.
You don’t want to be here. You don’t want to meet your new partner. You want to tear this uniform to shreds before it suffocates you. You want to open your eyes, and find that this was all some horrible, elaborate dream.
Neither of those things are an option though, and so you do the only thing you can. You take a deep breath, both hands on the steering wheel - gripping the leather beneath your fingers. You close your eyes, block it all out. The building, the stupid company car, the uniform. You exhale, slowly and carefully. You count to five, then take in another breath.
And only once the memories of your past dull from a scream to a whisper, do you open your eyes.
Actions unhurried, you unfurled your hands from the steering wheel, then unbuckle your seatbelt. You open the car door, and shiver when a cool gust of wind immediately raises goosebumps on your skin.
Then, you step out, and don’t even let yourself hesitate before your walking towards the building.
Because what other choice did you have?
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Everything is so cold.
That's the first thing you think when you walk through the doors of public safety, and it's the thing you think every single time you do. It's cold in there. The air is constantly crisp, everything seems to be basked in a hue of slate blue, and every door handle you touch is icy on your fingertips.
The people, aren't much better. Faces frozen over to mask tumultuous emotions beneath. Body language rigid, hands always either clasped into a fist or stuffed into coat pockets. They all looked like walking corpses, with the bags under their eyes and the pallor to their skin tone.
Public safety, was a ghost town.
But you knew that much before even actually joining.
You had heard rumours before, when the concept of a devil hunter was still whimsical to you, that those who work for public safety are either masochists or overconfident fools with a death wish. 'Humans don't work for public safety, ghosts do', your brother had once said to you off-handedly, barely even meaning anything of it.
But it was true, and those words held more weight than ever before. Because now you were one of those apparitions.
You walk the halls, uniform slung on and made as presentable as possible - shirt tucked, tie straight, and jacket unwrinkled as it hung off of your form. It fit well, but almost felt like you were wearing a costume. Like this was all for show. One last 'look at me! look at me!' before you kicked the bucket.
But maybe that's how everyone felt.
You wondered if there was a single person that truly felt like they belonged in this uniform.
And if there was... just how fucked up were they? What atrocities had befallen them, that lead them to believe that this line of work was their calling in life?
How could you still even think you have a calling, if fate treated you so cruelly?
You shake your head and huff out a breath, idly fidgeting with your fingers as you walk down the hallways towards Makima's office. It's silent in the building, which means it's been a good day. Just the occasional shuffle of footsteps heard off in the distance. Hushed chatter behind a corner.
It's quiet, but not comforting. It just seems as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for the next catastrophe.
It's on days like these, where the air feels like most frigid.
You reach her office, and pause, taking a moment to collect yourself before actually rapping your fist against the hard wood of the door in front of you. You know she's expecting you, she called you here after all, but there's a small voice in your head begging you to just turn around. To just forget about all of this public safety business, hang up your uniform without going on a single mission, and find an easier (quicker) way to ease your burdens.
Why again, were you taking this convoluted path to your demise? Right, because you were a dramatic at your very core, searching out poetry in every walk of life. Even the ending of it. It was only right, to go out in the same manner as the rest of them.
It wouldn't feel... fulfilling if you didn't.
(But maybe it was just morbid curiosity.) Wanting to know what it was like for them, to have their lives ripped from their clutches at a moments notice. To be so completely and utterly overpowered by a life force that viewed you as a nothing more than a mouse.
What was it like to realize that there was no escape from the inevitable?
You take in a deep breath, and reach up to smooth down your hair. Would you find out, just as you wished to, or would you keep your promise to Kishibe?
Your promise.
'Whoever it is, don't waste their time either'.
Ah, right. The reason why you were even about to knock on this door in the first place. There was a person behind that door, besides Makima. A person that would be entrusted to stick by your side more often than most, someone to join you on your journey down the grotesque path you've set yourself on.
A partner. Your partner.
A person who expects you to do well.
Expectations had always been a significant force in your life. In true, middle-child fashion, you often found yourself overachieving for attention - even if it didn't click in your mind at the time. You wanted validation, above all things.
And you always got what you wanted.
So even now, with a mind hellbent on giving up - you still find the overwhelming need to impress ringing in your ears. A stranger, someone with no preconceived notions of you. They didn't know how you acted, they didn't know what to expect (or if to expect anything at all).
A blank slate, and it feels like a crime to tarnish it.
It was the whole reason you had tried so hard when training with Kishibe. Why you had hardened over your expression, trying to bottle up your pesky emotions as much as you could.
It was self-fulfilling, above all, but so was everything you ever did.
You knock on the door. An almost violent sound in the silence of the hallway you stand in.
It only takes a second for you to hear, 'Come in' from the other side of the door. Makima's voice, that much is for certain. You're not sure if it would be better or worse if it were just her in there.
The anticipation is palpable when your fingers touch the door knob (cold, so cold), and your heart is beating so hard you think it may bruise your rib cage from the inside. It's stupid to be so nervous. You think to yourself. It's even more stupid to think this means anything at all.
In a few week's time, you'll probably be devil fodder.
The doorknob clicks when you turn it, and the door itself creaks when it's pushed open. Your breath, is still caught in your throat. You swallow thickly and push it all the way open, before dragging your lead-filled shoes into the room.
There's a man in there, but you barely even look at him when you first walk in and stand before Makima's desk. Your eyes snap up, and meet the woman's gaze first (as they always do).
"Miss Makima." You address her with a soft bow of your head, your hands folded neatly behind your back. Your partner be damned, if there's anyone you really want to impress in this room - it's her.
And the soft smile on her lips tells you that you've succeeded in that.
She addresses you warmly, as she always does. Sickeningly sweet from the first meeting, with a voice like warm honey that left your joints feeling gooey. It was almost too sweet, like she was laying it on thick to mask something bitter underneath, but you didn't care.
No one else did, or at least acted like they did.
Good enough for you.
"I'm glad to hear that your training with Kishibe went well." Makima hums, crossing one leg over the other as she sits in her desk chair. The window behind her showcases a backdrop of sunlight peeking through an overcast sky. It had been so thickly grey all day up until now. It was like it was shining just for her; to illuminate her features just right, make her eyes glint in most optimal way.
The clouds parted for Makima, just as your mind parted for her praise. "He's quite old-fashioned, hm? Did you run into any obstacles?"
"No, ma'am." You answer smoothly, without a hint of hesitation. "Master Kishibe was a great teacher. I've leaned a lot and hope to put my new skills to good use."
She smiles, and you swear the sun shines brighter - bringing a warmth to this gelid room.
"Lovely. I knew he'd take good care of you." She scoots forwards a bit in her chair, before resting her elbows on her desk and propping her chin up on her palm. "Take a look beside you, won't you?"
You follow the command before you can even think twice about it. If you had thought about it, you probably would've hesitated a little bit more. Your head turns, and then tilts up, and you're staring straight at the man who you had been avoiding acknowledging the entire time.
And oh.
Is this where the chill in the building comes from? Does it originate from him, seeping from his pores like a toxin?
His entire existence, scared off any semblance of warmth.
Standing tall beside you, his presence was overwhelming. His suit was perfectly tailored, with not so much as a speck of dust marring the fabric. His hair, was much the same way - pulled up and off his neck without a stray hair out of place. His bangs fell over his eyebrows, but even they looked like they lay with precision.
Was he a real person?
He blinked, and you knew he had to be.
Goosebumps rise on the back of your forearms, creeping upwards until they reach you biceps, then the back of your neck - sending a shiver down your spine. You barely even hear Makima speak your name once more; she sounds distant. Foggy. Like the room has suddenly flooded, and she was speaking to you underwater. "This is Aki Hayakawa. He's three years your senior here at public safety."
Your ears are ringing. "As of today, you'll be working under him."
You know you need to respond, need to break free of the frozen stupor you've solidified into and stop making a damn fool of yourself. But it's not that easy. The moment your gaze met his yours were paralyzed.
You could feel the frigidity leech into your veins as you stared into two pools of icy blue. Ice crystallized around your ribs, and your lungs froze over. His eyes flicked away from you, but the effects remained.
You open your mouth, slowly, like the joints of your jaw had rusted. Your lips part, and by some miracle you manage to utter out an introduction. He's not looking at you when you do it, and the same holds true when you push forwards.
"I've heard great things." You speak, in a tone so soft you barely even recognize your own voice. "I look forwards to working with you." You search his expression for something, anything, but your efforts are fruitless. There's nothing. Like a porcelain mask, his face was. Betraying not even a hint of emotion. Not annoyance, or irritation. Especially not happiness.
In all honestly, it looked like a smile would leave cracks in his cheeks.
His gaze flits down to meet yours once more. Nothing. Absolutely nothing. How was it possible for somebody to be so devoid of emotion?
His eyes don't leave you, and- wait. Maybe there was something. Not necessarily emotion, but something. His gaze bore into you, cold and calculating - sizing you up in silence. His eyes tracked every single subconscious movement; every little twitch of your lip, your eye, your jaw. Analyzing, cataloguing, filing it all away for future use. He was picking you apart bit by bit, tearing flesh from the limbs of your thoughts and then butchering it into bite-sized pieces.
All whilst staying agonizingly quiet.
"Likewise." Maybe silence was better.
His voice was a low, deep rumble. Monotone with no true conviction behind the words. It flowed towards you, swirled around your head like a halo, before slipping into your ears. You swallow thickly, and you know that his perceptive eyes picked up on that too.
"Well, glad you two seem to get along!" Makima claps her hands once, and you damn near jump - the sudden noise making you jolt out of your tense state. You look at her almost incredulously, unable to mask it before you quickly school your expression. "Aki here will take great care of you, I'm sure. He's one of my most trusted subordinates."
There was no way she was so oblivious, that she couldn't feel the way the air temperature dropped a few degrees when you met eyes with Aki. Could she not see the frost on your eyelashes? The purpling of your lips?
Did she really not notice, as your fingers turned blue at the tips?
And how did she still look so warm?
"Are we dismissed then, Miss Makima?" There's his voice again. Each word is a cool winter breeze, nipping at your skin. "Or is there anything else?"
Your eyes snap from Makima, to him, then back again. You can't stare for too long, every time you do your chest fills with dread.
Something's not right here. Your mind tells you. You need to keep your distance.
But how are you supposed to do that, when you've been tethered to him with this partnership?
"You're both free to go." Makima smiles, but not even her warmth can melt you this time. The smile you give her is a laughable imitation of one; crooked and malformed. "I expect great things from you two." Her eyes flash with something you can't place. "Especially you, Aki."
And you watch, as Aki thaws for a moment.
It's almost imperceptible, but you notice it. His eyes grow just a tad softer, and you can see the muscle in his jaw relax just a little bit. Until he sets it back in place, and repairs the mask.
"I won't disappoint, Miss Makima." He gives a soft bow, and your eyes stay glued to him. Maybe you should learn to be more subtle, but you can't - not right now. Not when you've just seen a flash or something in his eyes. Not when you had just witnessed the ice crack, even if only minutely.
He straightens his back once more, then turns his head to look at you.
You stared into his eyes, like a stormy ocean frozen over in the Arctic. Cold, unwavering, pinning you in place and rising frost on your arms. You could almost feel the sting of frostbite.
And you wonder, if there really was anything hidden beneath those irises. If there was a warm pool of tranquil blue hiding under that uncrackable surface. Something you could dip your toes into.
You blink once, and nothing changes. Just permafrost.
Had the sparkle in his eyes just been a trick of the light? It must've been.
You watch as he studies you once more, your eyes boring into his and not backing down. The air between you two crackles with tension, and it raises the hair on your arms. Then, he lets out a soft, 'tch', and turns his head away from you once more before turning on his heel. "Follow me."
No room for debate.
You offer Makima a polite bow, hoping that she can't see the way your hands are trembling, and the smile she gives you is the last vestige of warmth before you leave the room. You take a deep breath, turn, and follow Aki out the door and into the hallway.
He starts walking, and keeps walking, not once looking back as you trail behind him. His legs are long as his strides practically double yours; it's a struggle to keep up, and it's almost embarrassing the way you have to speed up to a half-jog just to stay on his trail.
The hallway seems narrower, somehow, your vision honed in on him as the focal point.
How had you not notice him before? If you had, you would've remembered. Would've felt his presence in your bones like you were now.
You had heard about him, but no words could've actually prepared you for standing beside him. Walking behind him; gaze trained on the back of his neck as he leads you off to god knows where. You watch as the sparse sunlight shines through a window and reflects off of the studs in his ears. You hear him as he clears his throat softly, making your ears prick up.
You listen when he speaks. "So, what's your story?" He asks, still not bothering to turn his head to address you. Maybe that's a good thing, you don't know how much more eye-contact you can take with him. You frown softly, tilting you your head to the side as you watch him. Back straight, perfect posture. Shoulders square as he walks. It's almost laughable, just how uniform everything about him is.
"My story?" You ask, skipping a little to catch up so that you now walk beside him - falling into step with him (albeit with a bit of a struggle on your part).
If Aki noticed, he didn't care, his gaze staying trained forwards as he walked.
"Your story." He nods, his expression unwavering. "The hell is someone like you doing here? In this damn mortuary."
Your eyes widened just a little bit, his words - though simple on the surface - made your heart rate pick up just a little bit. You look up, and Aki still won't look at you.
"Someone like me? What's that supposed to mean?" You ask, and he rolls his eyes. As of right now, that's the most expressive you've seen him be since you met him. You're almost proud of yourself for annoying him enough to crack his facade.
"Are you a parrot? Stop repeating back the things I say, and just answer the question." You watch as he stuffs his hands into his jacket pockets, his fingers fidgeting with something nestled inside the fabric. Out the window, the sun slips back behind the clouds, and the both of you are bathed in a gloomy grey once again. It only makes his eyes look that much more brooding, when you meet gazes once more.
"Why's it matter?" You ask him, your tone cold and clipped. Aki notices that (of course he does), and his perpetual frown only deepens. He narrows his eyes, only minutely, but it's enough to be perceptible.
You remember Kishibe's words from earlier;
"Makima has quite the habit of placing him with partners that would drive him insane... Which you definitely would."
It seemed that he was right, because you were barely even trying, and you seemed to be driving this guy up the wall. It was a losing game though, in all fairness, because at this point you were convinced that everyone and anything got under his skin.
"It matters because you're my responsibility, from now until whenever fate shuts your lights off." Aki's voice echoed in the otherwise empty hallway the two of you turned down - bouncing off the walls and into your ears. "I'm not a patient man, and I don't like wasting my time."
You raise an eyebrow, and purse your lips together.
"You sound a lot like Kishibe." You note, and he lets out a soft scoff in response.
"It's just common sense, I fear." He answers back, in the same monotone voice that you're growing accustomed to. You listen to it, and wonder what it would sound like if it were riddled with emotion instead. Your gaze falls to his lips, and you try your hardest to imagine a smile splitting his face. You come up short. "I haven't been doing this as long as he has, but I've already grown tired of this revolving door cycle that is partnership." He spares you a glance, and you immediately avert your gaze. "There's no point in a partnership with somebody who'll be gone by next month. It's just fodder for more memories that don't mean anything, and have no place to go."
"Well, I don't plan on being gone by next month." You mutter back to him. It must not have been a believable bluff, because his eyes only narrow even more.
"No?" He asks, almost sarcastically, in a tone that nearly makes your eye twitch. "Why are you here, then? You still haven't answered that."
Why were you here? Or, more like, what could you say to convince him that you weren't a lost cause?
Would it be better to admit your true intentions, in hopes that he'd stay unattached by the time you take your last breath?
You look up at him, and purse your lips.
It didn't seem like him to get attached to anything, regardless.
"To make things right." You finally settle on, rehashing your excuse that you gave to Kishibe earlier that day. The old man had hardly believed it, and Aki seemed much the same when he let out a soft scoff.
"'Make things right.'" He repeats back to you, almost scornfully, his words imbued with the essence of a cool December breeze. "And how are you going to do that? What wrongs do you have to be righted?" You open your mouth to reply, but he cuts you off with a sharp tone. "Do you think I didn't take one look at you and immediately know exactly what to expect?"
You couldn't say that was quite surprising, given how he had been looking at you earlier, but the words are still a blow to the chest regardless.
"Yeah? What do you expect, then? Since you know me so well."
"What do I expect?" Aki scoffs softly and looks off to the side. "To be carrying your casket in a week." He gives you a sidelong glance, blue eyes frosty. "That's what you want, isn't it?"
"What I want?" You answer back to him in an exasperated breath, the muscle in your jaw tensing at the accusation. "You think I signed up just to be torn to shreds?" His expression doesn't change, not even a bit. "Why does everyone here think I'm just a suicide case?"
Aki shrugs, before stopping in front of a side door. He opens it, revealing a staircase to the lower floor.
"It's pretty easy to read people, when you've been here long enough." He answers. "It's even easier to notice when someone's already given up." He turns to look at you once, before starting down the stairs. "Like you, for example."
"Please, spare me the compassion." You scoff sarcastically as you follow behind him, fidgeting with the knot in your tie. It was unnerving, how easily everyone here was able to read you. Were you just that obvious? Not as subtle in your motivations as you had thought?
Either way, it made your stomach knot up.
"Gladly." Aki answers back, unamused. You follow him down the stairs, the sound of your shoes shuffling echoing in the confined space. Aki wore a pair of sneakers on his feet - beat up and creasing under wear. It was the only part of him that seemed to have any semblance of life.
How odd.
"You don't have any faith in me, do you?"
He doesn't turn back to answer.
"I don't have faith in anyone, really." You suppose that answer should've been expected. "Faith is a luxury, and no one around here lives long enough to deserve it."
It's quiet after that. A deafening silence that makes your ears ring. You move almost unconsciously, eyes trained on the back of his head as you follow him down. Step after step.
And you wonder to yourself, if this is the fate that awaits you if you keep living.
It's certainly not motivation.
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ppl who already follow me: hi. I said I was gonna start posting for other characters so here I am. this is my formal introduction for you guys to my other husband 😁 if you even read this far sksjfjsk dw dw I have crp stuff in the works!
ppl who just found this: hi! is the chainsaw man fandom still bumping??? I wouldn’t know tbfh but im posting this anyway
also: yes! this was posted on ao3 by meeeee awhile back and promptly abandoned lmfao. im back to working on it :)
