Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aki stumbled.

They were careening toward the end. Denji knew what he had to do, just as he knew that it would tear him apart in a way that he would never recover from. He was doing it even though he knew that he would never be able to forgive himself. With tears in his eyes and a scream in his throat, chainsaws rendered flesh, tearing through the Gun Fiend before he could continue his reign of terror. Before he could continue to warp the memory of the person he was supposed to be. It looked for all the world like it was too late to turn back, too late to change the path they were on, too late to hope for anything but death.

And then Aki stumbled.

A pang of dismay cut through Denji's overwhelming grief as he slid off his chainsaws and staggered backward. Having to chase after him would mean dragging this out longer than necessary, which would mean cutting into him for longer, which would mean hurting him for longer than he wanted to. If there was enough of Aki left inside the fiend for him to feel, he didn't want to- He couldn't-

He had to.

A sob tore free from Denji's throat as he stepped toward Aki, preparing to race after him.

But Aki was in no state to run. Blood cascaded down his head and chest as he took another stumbling step back. Denji forced himself to raise his arm even as he cried and shook, preparing himself to bring it down and end it all. He didn't look like he would last very long at this point. That was- that was a good thing. He could end it quickly.

Aki let out a pained groan and started to shake his head.

Denji hesitated, something too desperate and clawing to ever be called hope tearing at his insides.

Aki raised his remaining hand to the side of his head. His fingers were slick with blood when he pulled it away a second later. He held his hand in front of him, seeming to stare at it, before looking back up.

He wasn't smiling anymore.

"Aki...?" Denji whispered.

"Denji...?" Aki said, and he had the Gun Fiend's face, but it was his voice. It was hoarse, pained, and unsteady, but it was him. Suddenly, Denji realized that the thing he was feeling might be hope after all.

Why did it hurt so much?

"What..." A harsh cough tore out of Aki's throat. Flecks of blood spilled past his mouth to coat his lips. Those flecks soon turned into a stream. Denji lunged forward the second he started to wobble, catching him before he could hit the ground.

"Hey, it's okay," Denji said, trying desperately to sound bright and happy and hopeful, because hope was supposed to be bright and happy and good. It wasn't supposed to feel like a lie waiting for a chance to tear you open as it forced you to watch the end of the world, and whatever was going wrong in his brain, he wasn't going to let it reach Aki. "Everything's gonna be fine. You're gonna be fine. You just... You just need..."

Aki needed help. He needed a doctor. He needed someone to do something about the blood pouring out of the giant cuts in his chest and head, the wounds that Denji had made. He needed-

Blood. He was a fiend now, he needed blood.

Denji felt his chainsaws melt away as he lifted an arm to his mouth, keeping the other one wrapped firmly around Aki. As he tore into his wrist with his teeth, he heard him choke out, "Denji..."

"Hold on, just a sec," he said, muffled around his wrist. A second later, he felt a burst of pain, tasted copper on his tongue, and pulled his bloody wrist back.

Aki sluggishly reached his human hand up to grab his wrist before he could shove it in his mouth. His grip was weak enough that Denji could have torn out of it easily, yet he faltered.

"What..." Aki started coughing again. Denji was about to tell him to save his breath when he pulled himself together enough to ask, "The... Gun Devil. What... Happened?"

A wave of dread crashed over Denji. He did not let himself drown in it; Aki's questions and the horrible conversation they would bring could wait until he wasn't dying. Because he wasn't going to die. Now that he had himself under control again, Denji wasn't going to let him die. He couldn't.

Another sob tore wrenched free from his chest, bringing with it a fresh wave of tears.

Aki let go of his wrist. Blood-soaked fingers reached up to brush against his cheek. "Why are you crying?" he whispered.

"It's okay," Denji repeated, grabbing onto his hand. "I'm just bein' stupid again. Everything's gonna be alright." Or it would be soon. Aki was sane again and he was going to live and everything would be fine. Sucking in a rough, uneven breath, he lowered Aki's hand to his side and shoved his wrist in his mouth. "Drink."

In a small act of mercy from the universe, Aki didn't ask why he was forcing him to drink his blood. Denji watched with bated breath as he swallowed. He stared at the horrible tears in his flesh, watching impatiently as his skin began to stitch itself back together.

He noticed the instant that his breathing began to slow.

His heart dropped when his wounds, only partially shut, stopped healing.

When he stopped swallowing the blood trickling down his throat, Denji pulled his wrist back and gave him the gentlest shake he could manage. "Aki?" he breathed.

A weak groan was his only response.

Denji brought his wrist back up to his mouth and bit it again. And again. And again. A current of blood was streaming down his arm when he shoved it back in Aki's mouth. "C'mon, Aki, just hold on a bit longer. How stupid would it be to die now? Please, don't..."

Denji sobbed.

"Don't die."

Aki didn't say anything. He didn't swallow. Blood trickled past his lips, and his wounds closed up a fraction more, but there was no reaction.

"Aki?" Denji whispered.

He was still warm. His chest was rising and falling. There were still jagged cuts carving him up, but his head was in one piece, and aside from all of the blood he had lost, his insides were mostly in.

So why wasn't he moving?

"C'mon," Denji croaked, pulling his arm back to gently shake his shoulder. "Get up, we've... We've gotta go."

No response.

"Please get up."

Denji was still bleeding. Aki was too, but only a little.

It didn't matter. He was alive, but he wasn't moving. He was alive, but he wasn't okay.

And it was Denji's fault.

"I'm sorry," Denji sobbed. He hugged Aki close to his chest and began rocking back and forth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sor-"

*

Denji wakes up with a gasp.

He doesn't realize that he's awake at first. He never does. For a horrible instant, he's still kneeling in the street, holding Aki's unconscious body and spewing apologies, unable to consider the possibility that he'd regain his mind only to leave him, yet too terrified to bring himself to hope.

Then he feels an arm wrap itself around his shoulders. A second later, another wraps around him and pulls him close. The embrace is too tight to be truly comfortable, but it is a comfort all the same. It's stabilizing in a way that few things are these days. With a shaky breath, Denji places a hand on one of the ones pushing tightly against his chest, just to remind himself that it is there.

"Which was it?" Power eventually asks.

"Aki," Denji murmurs.

Denji always knew that he wasn't a very smart person, but he at least figured that he was clever enough to come up with good nightmares. Apparently not, because whenever he has a bad dream - which are most of his dreams these days - it's always one of the same three things. Aki falling into his coma, Makima killing Power, or him killing Makima. They aren't even proper nightmares. They're just memories, stuff that he's gotten pretty good at not thinking about when he's awake, but can't get out of his head when he's asleep.

"Do you want me to get him?" Power asks.

"God, no. It's the middle of the night, ain't it?" Not to mention that Aki has enough shit clouding up his own head without feeling like he needs to worry about Denji's... whatever's going on with Denji.

What follows is an awkward and uncomfortable maneuver as Power tries to look out the window without letting go of Denji. There's no point; the curtain was open when they went to bed, Denji can see that it's still dark. At another time, he'd probably say as much. Right now, his heart is heavy, his head is moving even slower than usual, and he can't bring himself to give a damn.

"'Tis two hours 'til morning," Power declares with the reassuring, unwavering confidence of an egomaniac who has no idea what she's talking about. Unless she already got up and checked the time while she was sneaking around, but that seems unlikely. It was shocking when she started paying attention to the time to wake Aki up; anything more than that would be a miracle. However, it brings another question to his mind, the closest that he'll let himself get to what he maybe actually w ants to ask.

"You already do your rounds for the night?"

"Yes." Power lays back down and adjusts her grip on Denji. "Aki and Angel are sleeping together again. Both are well."

The relief that washes over him is stupid. Of course they're fine; they're all safe and at home. Unless some horrible new devil shows up, there's nothing that's going to put them in any danger. That stupid relief still makes him sink deeper into the bed as some of the lingering tension leaves his body. While not enough for him to have any hope of falling asleep, it is enough that he nearly relaxes into Power's embrace and allows himself to drift out without uttering so much of a word in response.

He only catches himself at the last moment. With a grunt of acknowledgment, he says, "Good. Y'know, you don't have to cuddle me."

It was nice when she started doing this in the aftermath of Aki becoming the Gun Fiend. After everything with Makima, they needed each other more than ever before. Now... it's still nice. He doesn't know how long it would take for him to pull himself together after his nightmares if he woke up and Power wasn't there. The trouble is that Power's been trying to do too much, pushing herself harder than she ever has before, and the more she frets and worries over the rest of them, the more wretched Denji starts to feel.

Yet it is undeniably easier for him to breathe when Power scoffs. "Be quiet and accept my comfort," she commands.

Denji doesn’t respond at first. Then he turns around to face Power. She makes a disgruntled noise at the movement, and in the darkness of the bedroom, he can just make out the scowl that she levels at him. The corners of his lips twitch weakly at the sight. “Relax,” he whispers. “I just figured you could use some attention too.”

Power’s scowl morphs into a small, pouty frown. “I am fine.”

“Right,” he says, because he knows that she’ll only argue if he points out that she hasn’t been sleeping much better than him, even if it is for completely different reasons. “Well, maybe I wanted to hug ya.”

“...Acceptable,” Power declares.

Denji manages a tired grin as he wraps his arms around Power, her own grip on him tightening once again. It loosens a few minutes later as she drifts back off to sleep.

There’s no going back to sleep for Denji. There never is after one of those dreams. However, as he holds onto Power and waits for morning to come, he manages to feel something close to peaceful.

*

He gets out of bed at the crack of dawn. Power is disturbed by his movement, but insists on following him out despite his protests and her visible exhaustion. They make their way into the kitchen, where they chat about nothing important while Denji makes toast. It’s a quick process made slow by the intangible pressure weighing down on his body and mind.

Power doesn’t comment on how it takes him over an hour to get eight pieces of bread toasted and covered in jam. She does whine about how they’re out of her favorite blood-red raspberry jelly, but a disgruntled look is enough to get her to stop that shit.

Angel drags himself into the kitchen while they’re eating. He flops into the chair across from him, eyes puffy and feathers almost as ruffled as his hair. This is nothing abnormal; it didn’t take Denji long to figure out that Angel isn’t a morning person. Even his halo seems a little dimmer when he’s just woken up. When he doesn’t respond to his greeting, Denji settles for wordlessly sliding the plate of toast over to him.

Angel hesitates for a moment before selecting the pieces covered in what is possibly the sweetest combination of jams known to man. This, too, is no surprise. Aki had once said that his partner has the ‘palette of a fruitfly.’ Denji was able to confirm that this was true within a week of him moving in.

The morning gets marginally more exciting after that. Power yammers all through breakfast. Once he’s no longer totally dead to the world, Angel starts responding. Within an hour, the conversation is flowing. Denji almost joins in a few times, but doubts himself and bites his tongue before he can get more than a few short comments out. It’s for the best. Neither Power nor Angel are precisely cheerful, but they’re in a good enough mood. Meanwhile, Denji is… Denji is blah. It’s a blah day for him. Talking would probably just drag them down to his level, so it’s better that he just stay quiet and listen.

He sits there listening for a stupidly long time before realizing that he should probably be doing something useful.

Power and Angel have slipped into a heated debate about whether cats are smarter than dolphins by the time Denji stands up. “I’m gonna go do some laundry,” he declares.

“You mean you’re going to destroy some laundry?” Angel asks with faux-innocence.

Power cackles.

“No,” Denji says. “I know what I’m doing by now.”

Angel gives an unconvinced hum. “Sure.”

Power leans over, reaching across the empty chair separating her and Angel, and loudly whispers, “I do not believe him.”

“Me either,” Angel says, not even trying to be quiet. “But if he’s telling the truth, maybe we can finally replace all the clothes he’s destroyed.”

“One, fuck you both. Two.” Denji crosses his arms and shoots Angel an unimpressed look. “I thought you’d just take Aki’s clothes.”

“Yeah, but eventually, you’ll destroy all of Aki’s stuff too,” comes Angel’s easy response.

“I’m not gonna destroy anything else!” Denji exclaims, throwing his arms up in the air. “Also, barely any of your stuff has been destroyed. You’re just too lazy to wash your own shit.”

“I mean, that’s what you’re here for, right?”

Power’s laughter intensifies. Meanwhile, Angel stares at him impassively, utterly shameless.

“You two suck,” Denji says. There’s no heat in his words. Power continues laughing, and Angel’s wings twitch with what he suspects is amusement.

Denji turns around and walks away with a sigh. The sound of the cats versus dolphins argument reigniting follows him down into the basement. It makes the weight in his chest a little lighter. Unfortunately, it does nothing to help with the daunting task before him.

He has to get the laundry done right after that conversation. It’s not an impossible task; only three of the five loads he’s done in the five weeks since the incident have come out stained and discolored. That means that there are two that came out something close to right. The problem is that he doesn’t remember exactly what he did to make them turn out that way.

Denji stops in front of the massive, overflowing laundry hamper sitting beside the washing machine. Another hamper sits beside it. This one is filled with clothes dyed shades of sickly pink and vivid rust orange by his last attempt at doing the laundry. He should probably throw them out, but for now, they sit there, a visible reminder of exactly what is at stake. 

“Fuck,” he sighs.

With that, he gets to work. In this case, ‘getting to work’ means walking over to the bookshelf next to the hamper and sorting through the containers of soaps, chemicals, and miscellaneous other items stored on its shelves. He still doesn’t know exactly what most of them do. He and Power had watched Aki do the laundry enough times to recognize them all as laundry stuff , but that doesn’t tell him what does what, what shouldn’t be used when, or why they have so many different laundry things in the first place.

His rotten brain can’t even remember what he used last time to make the colors go all wild.

As Denji waffles around with chemicals, the sound of arguing from upstairs gradually evolves into a ruckus. Or half of a ruckus. He only ever catches hints of Angel’s voice, never leaving the same subdued tones, but Power starts getting loud. It eventually reaches a crescendo of noise before cutting off abruptly.

Denji snorts. He’ll have to ask Angel what he did to make that happen. 

With the chaos brought to an end, he focuses fully on the laundry materials, picking up a bottle of detergent and squinting at it as he tries to read the label on the back. He’s made it about three lines when heavy footsteps start down the stairs.

“Are you gonna help, or are you just coming down to talk shit?” he asks without turning around.

“Excuse me?”

Denji nearly drops the bottle.

He spins around to find Aki standing at the bottom of the staircase. "Shit!" he exclaims. "I didn't realize it was noon yet."

How much time did he spend trying to figure out which detergents to use? Damn it, he thinks. Angel's never gonna let me hear the end of this if he finds out.

"It's not," Aki says, pulling him out of his thoughts. "But there's no sleeping through some things." His head turns back upstairs, and Denji lets out a snort.

"Yeah, that tracks," he says.

Turning back toward him, Aki asks, "What were you saying about giving you shit?"

"Oh." Denji shrugs. "I thought you were Angel."

"Angel helps you with laundry?" Aki asks. He sounds puzzled. It sends an aching pang through Denji's chest because the sound of his voice is all he has to go by. Before, he would have furrowed his brow, maybe squinted a little, but now...

He'll get better at reading him in time. At least Denji doesn't find his appearance scary anymore. Three weeks spent feeding him blood in an attempt to get him to heal enough to wake up from his coma had done a lot to eradicate the lingering fear he initially felt upon seeing him. His despondent state during the first week after waking up made it impossible to look at him and see the fiend that had tried to kill him.

Now looking at him hurts for a completely different reason.

"Not really," Denji says, looking back down at the bottle. "He comes down and tells me what he thinks I'm doing wrong sometimes, but I don't think he actually knows what he's talking about."

"He doesn't," Aki says.

Denji snorts, putting the detergent back on the shelf and picking up a different one. Now that he has it in his hands, he thinks this might have been the one he used last time. Maybe? "I knew it," he scoffs.

"Do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course!" Denji exclaims. "Who do you think's been doing the laundry while-" he bites his tongue. Opening the bottle, he sticks his nose in and takes a deep whiff.

He comes up gagging.

"And has the laundry been going well ?" Aki asks.

"That shit burns," Denji wheezes, waving the bottle at Aki and squinting at him through damp eyes. Shit, is the laundry poison really going to make him cry? That'd suck. On the bright side, now that he's smelled it, he definitely recognizes it as the stuff he used last time. Ergo, probably not something that he should try pouring it in the laundry again.

"Denji," Aki pushes.

Denji allows his eyelids to flutter shut. It provides enough comfort to his burning eyes for him to force the tears back. When he opens them, he pops the lid back on the bottle of misery fluid - he's pretty sure it's bleach - and puts it back on the shelf. With his back to Aki, he pushes down the feelings churning in his gut and says, "I'm trying."

A moment of silence stretches on for long enough that Denji thinks that he might be able to win the battle against his insides and stop himself from feeling shittier. Then footsteps echo across the basement. Aki sighs, tired, worn, and undeservedly guilty, and says, "I know you are."

Denji doesn't think. He doesn't acknowledge any feelings telling him that responding would probably be a bad idea. His head is swept back into the dream and his heart is seized by the desire to not let Aki feel worse. Turning around, he says, "Hey, don't be like that."

Aki comes to a pause a few feet away from him. "What do you mean?"

Denji falters. He knows exactly what he means, but all of a sudden, he doesn't know how to say it. His throat is closing up, and although it isn't actually hard to breathe, it still feels like he's suffocating, just like he has every time he's tried to talk to Aki about anything remotely serious or emotional or important over the past two weeks. It's stupid and ridiculous and he hates it; Aki is one of the people he loves most in the world, one of the only people he loves. He should be able to talk to him.

But how do you talk to someone you almost killed?

"When's the last time we got groceries?" Aki asks.

Denji doesn't know if the sudden change of subject came for his sake or Aki's. He doesn't know if he's frustrated or grateful for it. He doesn't acknowledge it regardless.

"I dunno," he says, rubbing the back of his head. "I got household stuff a few days ago, but actual groceries... I think that was about a week and a half ago? Maybe two?"

"And Power just emptied the freezer," Aki murmurs. He mulls it over for a moment before walking over to stand beside Denji. "I'll take care of the laundry," he says, grabbing one of the bottles off the shelf. It's a small one that Denji hasn't so much as touched over the past five weeks. "You take Power or Angel and go shopping."

Denji blinks. "Are you sure?"

Aki nods. "There's a lot more to do. The kitchen's a mess, the living room still stinks, and the bathroom needs to be scrubbed..." He sighs, setting the bottle down on the washing machine and picking up a larger container of detergent. This time, it's the one that Denji picked up the first time. "It's going to take hours. We might as well restock at the same time."

Denji wants to say that he shouldn't blame himself for not taking care of that stuff sooner. Anyone would be down in the dumps after what Aki went through, and it's not his fault that Denji, Power, and Angel are shitty housekeepers. They should have done a better job of listening when he talked about that stuff before.

"Y'got any preference on who I take with me?" he asks instead.

Aki snorts. "Do you think it would be easier to get one of them to help clean?"

Denji thinks about it for a moment. Aki might have a good chance at getting Angel to help considering that it's him asking. That said, he can tell that Power's been trying real hard to be helpful after... everything. Both will complain at first, but both of them will also probably give in in the end.

"I have no clue," he says.

"Take whoever will go with you," Aki says, walking over to the hamper. "If it's Angel, don't let him spend more than 6,500 yen on ice cream."

"...6,500 yen?" Denji dumbly repeats.

"That's about how much I bought for him weekly while we were patrolling," Aki explains as he awkwardly hefts the hamper onto the top of the dryer.

"His ice cream budget is 6,500 yen!?" Denji squawks.

"...Yes?" Aki says. With the way he pauses and awkwardly shifts, Denji gets the sense that he may be starting to realize that he said something weird. Which is too bad for him, because Denji is not letting this go.

"Aki, what the fuck? How did this happen!? That's like... That's what I used to spend in a month!"

Aki stills. "That's all?" he asks. The shock in his voice isn't as significant as it would have been when they were first getting to know each other, but the pained concern is far more notable.

Suddenly, Denji's willing to drop it after all.

"Good luck with the laundry," he says before taking off back up the stairs.

Angel and Power are still sitting at the table, but their argument has turned into what sounds like a fairly subdued conversation. Denji doesn't bother figuring out what they're talking about before walking over and asking, "Who wants to go shopping with me?"

He is met by two unenthusiastic looks.

"Pass," Angel intones.

"Why would I assist you when my last voyage to the store was met with such ingratitude?" Power demands. "I would be within my rights to let you flounder!"

"If that's how you guys feel." Denji clasps his hands behind his back and rocks back onto his heels, a grin crawling across his face. It comes easier than any of the others that he's managed today, fueled by the knowledge of what's about to come. "But just so you know, Aki's in a cleaning mood, and whoever stays behind is gonna have to help him with that."

Angel and Power exchange a frantic look.

"I am a fantastic shopper!" Power cries, standing up and slapping her hands down on the table.

"You'll just get a bunch of useless junk again," Angel scoffs. He leans forward, shoulders resting on the table, and looks Denji dead in the eyes. "Aki's taken me shopping before. I'll actually be helpful."

"Hey, I don't care who comes with me. You two can figure it out yourselves. But..." He pauses for dramatic effect. "I've gotta get going soon. If you don't figure it out in five minutes, I'll tell Aki that you both want to help him clean."

It's a blatant lie and Denji's being a bit of a dick by saying it. If he actually tried to do that, Aki'd probably just get pissy with him for not doing what he said and decide who's going himself. Judging by the way he narrows his eyes, Angel knows it, too. However, the world feels a little less shitty when Power lets out a dramatic gasp and whirls on Angel, so he can't bring himself to feel too bad.

"We shall settle this through rock, paper, scissors!" Power declares, slamming her fist on the table.

Angel groans and rolls his head. "Do we have to?"

"Yes! Failure to play is to forfeit! Now, engage me and prepare to meet your doom!"

*

They play three rounds of rock, paper, scissors.

Power plays rock every time.

Angel plays paper every time.

Denji can't tell if he figured out that Power always plays rock or was just too lazy to come up with a more complicated strategy.

*

A significant problem makes itself known soon after they reach the grocery store.

Neither Denji nor Angel knows what the fuck they're supposed to buy.

Okay, that's a little too dramatic. They have some idea of what they're supposed to get. Denji's gone to the store with Aki enough times that he's picked at least some stuff up, and Angel isn't a moron like him. They know what staples they're supposed to get. Meat to replace everything that Power wasted, milk, eggs, some sort of vegetables. The problem is that they don't know what sort of vegetables to get. Or how much they need of anything. Or what else to get to create something that could be debatably called a balanced diet.

Angel looks up from the bundle of frilly leaves he's examining and asks, "Does Aki use kale?"

"Man, I don't know." Denji slumps against the cart and groans. "This sucks."

Angel glances down at the kale, shrugs, and puts it in a white plastic bag. "I don't know why you're so stressed out about this," he says. "You've gone shopping before, having you?"

"Yeah, but I haven't done any serious food shopping. We haven't been having all that takeout just because I can't cook for shit." He sighs and drags a hand down his face. "We should've asked Aki for a list before we left," he murmurs.

"We could go back and ask him for one," Angel suggests. He frowns a second later, like he just said something distasteful. Considering that doing that would mean walking all the way back to the house, then back to the store, then back home again, he probably did from his perspective. Which, good. Denji doesn't exactly like the idea either.

"Nah," Denji murmurs. He straightens up and jumps down from where he'd been standing on the back wheels of the shopping cart. "Don't wanna make life harder for him."

Angel stares at him unreadably for a second. Eventually, he turns around and starts walking down the produce aisle with a hum.

Denji pushes the cart after him. "What?" he demands.

"Nothing," Angel says.

"That wasn't nothing."

"How would you know?"

"You aren't as hard to read as you think you are."

"Yeah, well." Angel throws him a look over his shoulder. "Neither are you."

"Well, whaddya think you read?" Denji asks.

Angel comes to a stop. With a sigh, he walks over to an apple stand and picks one up. He stares dully down at the bright red fruit. Denji stares at him staring for a few moments before reclaiming his perch on the back of the cart. "I'm not gonna forget just because you take a long time to answer," he says, crossing his arms over the handle.

Angel sighs again. "You're obnoxiously stubborn."

"Well, yeah. Now spill."

"I'm just thinking..." Angel glances at him out of the corner of his eye. "Maybe you don't want to go back and ask because you don't want to talk to Aki."

Ah. This is going to be one of those conversations. He probably shouldn't be surprised; this is how shit just seems to keep going with them. A smarter person would have seen it coming and wouldn't have pushed. All Denji can do is lamely point out, "I talk to Aki plenty."

Angel sets the apple down and looks at Denji properly. His expression is tired and pointed. It makes him think that he doesn't want to be having this conversation either, but now that it's begun, he isn't going to let Denji worm his way out of it. "You know that's not what I mean."

"Yeah, well..." Denji looks away with a huff. "It's not easy to talk about the serious stuff with him."

"It might get easier if you actually tried," Angel points out.

Denji glances at him warily. "Are you talking from experience?"

Now it's Angel's turn to look away. His shoulders slump and Denji can make out a faint twitch beneath the jacket covering his wings. "Sometimes," he says. "Mostly, I've been trying to make sure he doesn't get worse."

"Well, maybe you should be the one to talk to him about serious stuff," Denji suggests. "You and him have..."

Truthfully, Denji doesn't know what Aki and Angel have. He knows that it isn't straight, but he doesn't know exactly what sort of thing it is or how far along it is, or even if they're both aware of it, and right now, he really doesn't want to push.

"...Whatever you have. You'd probably have more luck than me."

Angel's gaze is sharper when he looks back at him. It makes Denji squirm, which he channels into rocking on the back of the cart. "Why?" he asks. "Do you seriously think I'm more important to him than you?"

Denji falls still. His gaze drops down to his hands, and for a moment, he could swear they're stained bright red. "...You should be," he says.

"Oh," Angel murmurs, soft enough that Denji almost doesn't hear. He isn't sure that he's supposed to. The strained tone with which the syllable is uttered makes him think that he's gonna leave it at that.

He's wrong. After a long, tense moment of quiet, Angel surmises, "You're scared that he blames you for the coma."

Denji swallows a mouthful of nothing. He closes his eyes so he doesn't have to see the hands that still feel like they're coated in blood. A second later, he opens them so that he doesn't have to see the images flashing through his mind. Yet despite his best attempts, he sees Aki's bloody body as she stares at the fruit stands. He hears the regret and exhaustion that's in his voice half the time he talks these days. It overlaps with an image of what he was like before, and his stomach twists in a way that's almost hard enough to make him queasy. If this were two or three weeks ago, it would have.

"That's not it," Denji says.

There's only one path left for this conversation to take, and neither of them wants to go there. So they don't. Denji jumps off the back of the cart again and asks, "Didya know that we can spend 6,500 yen on ice cream?"

The back of Angel's jacket rises a little as his eyes widen. Denji thinks that he sees a faint glow peeking out from his white beanie as well, its ability to hide his halo challenged by the prospect of a massive amount of ice cream.

"Seriously?" Angel asks.

Denji nods. "Aki said."

Angel wakes over to the cart, peers down, and declares, "We have enough fruit and vegetables."

Their cart contains a bundle of kale, some lotus root, a head of broccoli, and no fruit to speak of, but for the sake of a distraction, Denji's inclined to agree. They can always double back for more healthy stuff later.

*

They do not double back for more healthy stuff.

They do, however, stop in front of the scented candle display.

"Angel?" Denji asks when the devil picks one of them up.

He stares at it thoughtfully for a moment before looking up and asking, "How long do you think it would take Aki to notice if we got one of these every time one of us went out?"

Denji only needs to think about it for a moment. "Let's find out."

*

It's windy on the walk home. The cart is weighed down by meat, snacks, eight cartons of ice cream, and it's still hard to keep it from rolling away. It would probably be easier if Angel actually helped Denji push instead of clinging to the front, but he knows better than to expect anything else from him.

On the bright side, it gives him an idea.

They're about halfway home when Denji asks, "What do you think would happen if you stood at the back of the cart and spread your wings out?"

Angel, who had been poking at one of the grocery bags, pulls his hand back and blinks up at him. "Do you mean just holding onto it, or standing on it?" he asks.

"Standing on it, like you are now," Denji eagerly explains. "If it's windy like this, it'd work like a sailboat, wouldn't it?"

"I... guess?" Angel tilts his head to the side with a frown. "If the wind's strong enough to push the cart, I don't think I'd be able to control it at all."

"But that wouldn't matter if we got set up at the top of a hill or something."

"Denji. No."

"I haven't even asked anything yet?"

Angel looks at him flatly.

"C'mon, it'd be fun! You can't tell me it doesn't sound fun!" Denji presses.

"It doesn't sound fun."

"Liar." That or he's even more of a buzzkill than he lets on. It would explain why he and Aki get along so well, except he knows that Aki would like cart surfing if he gave it a chance, and he's willing to bet that Angel is the same.

Angel rolls his eyes. "Aren't we going to return the cart anyway?" he asks. "Aki's already going to complain about us borrowing it."

"Not if we don't tell him," Denji counters. "Besides, we can go cart sailing and then return it."

"If you wanna go sailing, get a sheet and figure something out yourself," Angel says. He turns his attention back to the groceries, pulling a carton of shortbread cookies out of one of the white plastic bags.

"You suck," Denji sighs.

"Yep," Angel agrees.

They lapse into silence, Angel munching on shortbread and Denji doing all the physical labor.

They're almost home when Angel says, "Denji."

"You're the one who couldn't wait until we got home; if you're out already, you're shit out of luck," Denji says without looking up from the cracked section of sidewalk he's trying to maneuver.

He gets a piece of shortbread thrown at his forehead in response. Denji snatches it and tosses it into his mouth before it can hit the ground. He prepares to slap a grin across his face when he looks up at Angel, only to let it fall away when he's met with a serious, pensive look.

"What's up?" he asks, feeling a bit like he'll regret asking.

"I'll go cart-sailing with you if you talk to Aki," Angel says.

"...Ah." Denji looks away. The tips of his fingers are starting to feel cold, which he supposes is better than sticky and warm. He flexes his hands around the cart handle to force some feeling back into them and tries to pretend that it's just the cold wind. He fails miserably when he has to go on and say, "That's not a fair trade."

"It isn't, but you need to do it anyway. At least you get something out of it this way."

Denji's mouth tastes like copper. He swallows, but it doesn't go away, because there isn't actually anything to make it taste that way. "I'll think about it," he says.

"Don't spend too long thinking," Angel warns. "He'll notice you're avoiding him eventually."

Is it horrible that Denji's first thought is that that might not be a bad thing? Horrible on his part of just a horrible situation, he doesn't know, but he can't help but think that Aki might be happy that the person who almost killed him is avoiding him. It can't be nice to see the person who tore him to shreds and sent him into a coma all the time. Besides, it's not like he hasn't been doing more than his own fair share of avoiding. Maybe part of the reason he's cooped up in his room all the time is that Denji hasn't been avoiding him enough.

The problem is that he doesn't have any way to know that. If he's wrong, he might be hurting Aki more than he already has.

But if he's right, then any sort of serious conversation with Aki is just going to hurt a lot in general.

It occurs to him that it might be a little easier to make sense of it all if he tries to talk to someone about it. As he glances at Angel, staring at him with stoic seriousness, he understands he'd probably listen if he talked to him. Yet when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a subdued, "Yeah. Alright."

*

Aki isn't surprised by the results of their shopping trip, just disappointed. Fortunately, Denji and Angel are both immune to that shit by now. As he scolds them over the mountain of meat, ice cream, sugary snack foods, the near-total absence of anything plant-based, and borrowed grocery cart, he completely fails to notice the single scented candle at the bottom of said cart.

He does, however, remember that Denji hasn't been eating meat for the past few weeks. Aki asks how Denji plans on sustaining himself on only snack foods, which spirals into a heated conversation full of big, scary words like 'scurvy' and 'constipation.'. Angel watches the whole thing in amusement, as if he is not a significant part of the problem. It only comes to an end when Power barges in to whine about all the cleaning Aki made her do. That's when Denji notices that the house actually does look a lot nicer than it did when he left it. It's also when Aki tells Power that she needs to take a shower, having spilled cleaning solutions on herself several times over the course of the day, which leads to a whole new ordeal.

All in all, the evening is lively and chaotic. In the midst of it all, Aki finds it in himself to cook for the second night in a row. Dinner itself is a loud affair - mostly him and Power arguing over stupid shit, but Aki sticks around for the whole thing, and he figures that that must count for something.

It's not exactly nice, but it's something more important than that. It's familiar. For a moment, Denji can almost pretend that the last few weeks never happened and everything is like it's always been. He's been telling himself over and over again that things will get normal, that they'll go back to normal, and that everything will be okay, but for a little while, he feels like he can actually believe it.

That feeling, combined with Angel's voice lingering in the back of his mind, drives him to run after Aki when he sees him slipping out of the living room. "Hey, wait! Aki!" he calls.

Aki slows down, but doesn't stop immediately. Denji's heart drops into his stomach as he prepares for things to go wrong before they can even begin. They're a few feet into the hallway when Aki grants him the small mercy of stopping and turning around. "Is everything alright?" he asks.

"Ye-" Denji begins and immediately hesitates. He doesn't know how he's going to have this conversation, but he gets the feeling that starting it with a lie isn't the way to do it. The truth is painful enough that he's barely even been able to think of it, which means that actually talking about it is bound to hurt like a bitch, but they might not even get anywhere if he doesn't do that much.

Denji takes in a deep breath, allows his shoulders to slump, and feels like he's cutting into a fresh cut of red, bloody meat as he says, "Not really. Can we talk?"

Aki's mouth purses slightly, and Denji can't tell if it's concern or annoyance. One of them is more like him, but it doesn't stop fear from sparking in his chest. That fear is soothed slightly by the softness in his voice as he says, "Sure."

He starts toward his bedroom, and Denji winces. If he's going to do this, he definitely doesn't want to do it locked up in Aki's misery hovel. "Actually, can we go outside instead?" he asks.

Aki only hesitates for a moment before nodding.

Their house has a small back porch overlooking a decent-sized lawn. It's swatched in shadows, but Denji can make out a few of the long prickly weeds filling it in the moonlight. The porch itself doesn't have any chairs for it or anything, but the cool night air makes it a little easier for Denji to breathe, even if it pricks at his skin a little. He and Aki stand there in silence for a few minutes before Aki asks, "What did you want to talk about?"

Denji swallows. It feels like his throat is filled with rocks, but he needs to talk quickly, before Aki can decide that he isn't going to entertain him after all. His haste makes his voice come a little too fast and far too unsteady as he says, "You. How are you doing?"

Aki's head turns a little closer to him. Denji looks out at the garden to keep himself from imagining what sort of expression he'd been making if he were still capable of human expressions. "That's not an easy question," he slowly says.

"Yeah, well..." Denji shrugs and leans forward against the railing, trying to lend an air of casualness to a situation that is anything but. "I probably should have asked sooner."

A heavy sigh leaves Aki's mouth. "You wouldn't have liked the answer you got," he murmurs.

Denji's chest constricts. It feels like a well-manicured hand is gripping his heart. "And now?"

Aki takes a shuffling step closer. Denji gives into curiosity and glances at him when he leans against the railing, only to find him staring out at the lawn, just like he had been a moment earlier. "Can you get a little more specific?" he asks.

"Sure," he says, even though what he wants to say is no. He'd rather eat his own chainsaws than try and spell this out. But he would eat a chainsaw for Aki's sake. He owes him that much. Denji owes him way worse and way more than he could ever hope to repay. So he rakes his brain over hot coals in an attempt to find the words he needs and, after a few moments of one of the most agonizing silences of his life, chokes out, "How do you feel about the fight?"

"The fight," Aki numbly repeats.

"Yeah," Denji says. The words burn his tongue, but he pushes forward to say, "The one where I almost killed you."

Silence. Except it isn't really silence, not when Denji can so clearly hear the pounding of his heart and the slow, quiet whispers of Aki's breathing. He tries to focus on that part. Denji almost killed Aki, but he didn't. Aki almost died, but he's alive.

He's hurt and permanently changed and alive, and the more time passes, the more Denji wonders if-

"I'm not mad at you," Aki says.

Denji blinks. "You're not?"

"No." Aki doesn't look away from the lawn, but something in his tone tells him that he's being honest. Maybe it's because of how much his voice hurts. "You did what you had to do. It was the right move for the situation."

And Denji should be happy to hear it. He should be able to breathe easier now that he knows that Aki doesn't hate or blame him. The tension should be gone, this whole miserable affair should be over, and he should be saying or doing something to push the whole thing under the table so that they can move on with their lives. Instead, his stomach is twisting, his throat is burning, and he can barely breathe at all. Because Aki says that Denji did the right thing by almost killing him, but he almost sounds like he'd cry if he still had eyes, and he's been so miserable, and-

And Denji doesn't want to say it. He doesn't want to even think about it, let alone ask and allow it to become a reality.

But he has to. Now that they're talking, he can see that Angel was right. This is one thing that he can't expect to get better if he doesn't acknowledge it, and he'll be damned if he's about to let it get worse.

"Yeah. That's not it, though. Aki..." Denji wants to look away again. He doesn't let himself. "You don't wish I'd killed you, do you?"

Aki's shoulders tense. His human hand, braced on the railing, grips it so tightly that his knuckles turn white. Denji feels the hand in his chest again, scratching and tearing and preparing to crush his heart into so much gunk. But before it can get that far, Aki looks down and says, "No."

Denji straightens up with a jolt. "No?" he repeats, hoping that he heard right but not quite prepared to believe that he did.

Aki turns to face him with a sigh. "No. I..." He looks away again, just for a heartbeat, but forces himself to turn back. "I did for a while, but it's gotten better lately."

"And it's gonna keep getting better?" Denji asks, breathless in a way that should be reserved for battle and the sort of horrible shit that he's already escaped from, not... whatever this is.

It takes a long time for Aki to respond, long enough for Denji to start feeling cold in that horrible way that has nothing to do with the wind, no matter how much he tells himself that's what he's feeling.

"I don't know," Aki finally admits, and as a tired, dread-filled ache overtakes his body, Denji has to acknowledge that at least he's being honest. "I can try, but..."

"But you aren't going to... to do anything?" Denji asks, because he doesn't know if it's the right thing to say, but he needs to say something about that. He needs to know how scared he needs to be, what he has to look for, if he's going to lose him after all.

Aki frowns. It's stern, disapproving, and generally unimpressed.

Denji never thought he'd be happy to see that frown.

"I don't like existing like this, but I'm not suicidal, Denji," Aki says, as if it's obvious. As if Denji shouldn't have felt the need to ask. As if it isn't something he'd consider.

He hasn't been considering it.

Denji can't stop himself from letting out a relieved gasp. He slumps forward like a puppet with its strings cut, and Aki moves forward to put a steadying hand on his shoulder.

"You've been really worried about this," he murmurs.

"No shit," Denji says. "Everything's been..." His eyes are burning. His throat is tight. Denji is not going to let himself cry, not here, not now, not in front of Aki, but he still sounds decidedly weak and defeated as he says, "Everything sucks."

Aki pulls him into a hug, and Denji clings to him like a lifeline. "I know."

*

Denji has a meeting with Kishibe the next afternoon.

'Meeting,' like it's all official and shit. What it is is him going to the park, sitting on the bench, and waiting for the old man to show up. Then he'll ask him some grating questions and leave when he's content that no one's about to go insane or keel over. Personally, Denji would prefer to skip the whole thing, but he doesn't want to find out what the old drunk would do if he did that. Aki's active enough this morning that he also suspects that he'll have something to say if he finds out, and while it's nice to see him starting to act more like himself, he doesn't feel like getting scolded this morning.

Denji's coat is right where he abandoned it when he got back from shopping, sloppily draped over the back of the armchair. Half of it is trapped under Angel's back. The devil looks up to shoot him an agitated look when he pulls it out from under him, which quickly turns into mild amusement when he takes in his bedraggled expression. Denji scowls at him before turning his attention to Aki and Power, who sits perched at the end of the couch surrounded by video games. It looks like she's trying to get him to play something with her.

Aki hasn't touched a game since he lost his arm, which means that they haven't had a chance to play together in basically forever. The temptation to abandon his chores and race over to join them is strong enough to make Denji's throat sore. But no, he has to be responsible, or else Kishibe might decide that their situation isn't stable enough to leave alone after all. Pulling his coat on, he calls out, "I'll be back later."

Power's head snaps his way, eyes wide and sharp with an edge of panicked alarm. Her posture tenses, like a cat coiled to spring, only to soften when Aki asks, "Kishibe?"

Denji groans in response.

Angel scoffs. "None suffer such as you," he intones, stretching out sideways over the armchair.

"I know," Denji says.

He zips his coat and notes that Aki and Power are already going back to what they were doing. Assholes. He's glad to see it.

"Angel's in charge if I die," he calls. Aki's head snaps toward him, and he's pleased to find that he can tell he's disgruntled by the implication that Denji is in charge. Denji plants his hands on his hips and stares him down, daring him to try to reassert his authority after the past few weeks have been what they were.

Aki purses his lips.

Denji smirks, just a bit, because they're all assholes here.

Meanwhile, Power argues that she is in charge, which Denji ignores. What he can't ignore is Angel's groan and protest of, "Don't do that to me."

Denji looks down at him. "None suffer such as you," he mocks.

"Bitch," Angel grumbles.

Denji reaches down to whack his halo. He's barely tapped the warm, surprisingly soft surface before Angel reaches out to swat his hand away. This devolves into a stupid little slap fight that comes to an end when Aki calls, "Denji."

"Right, right." Denji steps back with a sigh. "Can't keep the old bastard waiting." With one last reluctant wave to his family, he walks out the door with a muttered, "Later."

It's a short walk to the park and a long wait for Kishibe to show up. He spends that time trying to wrangle his stupid fucked-up brain into some semblance of functionality. There's nothing to keep him distracted in the park, just himself, his thoughts, and the dread that comes from waiting for a conversation that he knows will send them somewhere dark. That's the worst thing about these conversations. No matter what sort of mood he's in before their talk, he knows that he's going to feel like shit by the time they leave.

Denji shouldn't let himself get too upset about it. He owes Kishibe way more than a few shitty conversations. It's because of him that Power and Aki aren't in danger of getting hauled off by Public Safety. He's the one who didn't argue or even make him do much explaining when he asked if Angel could be released as well. That alone would have been plenty, but the old drunk's been talking about putting Denji in school. Power too, maybe. He's even mentioned seeing about getting them some sort of limited rights and identification so that Power and Angel can go in public without having to worry about hiding their devil traits too much. Aki's scary enough that he's kind of fucked, but Denji's working on a plan there, and he knows that Kishibe would do more to help him if he could.

The old drunk cares a lot more than he lets on. Denji knows that he wouldn't be able to do this without his support. If these depressing little check-ins are what he asks for in return, then fine. Denji can sit around and feel like shit for a few hours every week. It's whatever.

When he spots Kishibe shuffling his way, he is surprised to see a little girl with him.

The surprise lasts for a few seconds before Denji shoves it aside. He doesn't know what's up with the kid, but he doesn't really care. It probably isn't going to be his problem anyway. Instead, he forces himself to hope that maybe this meeting will be easier than the others. Kishibe will want to know how Aki's doing, which always sucks to talk about, but this past week was better than the one before it. He can give the report quickly, and if he's lucky, maybe he won't push. Maybe he'll mostly want to talk about school and Denji can actually be happy and excited about stuff.

Kishibe lowers himself onto the bench beside him with a heavy sigh. It sends a sinking feeling through Denji's chest, telling him that, no, he was stupid to hope. This is definitely going to suck.

Except it doesn't. Not at first, at least. Kishibe asks him about everyone and Denji gives him a short rundown of what's been going on. He leaves out the aching bits; his early morning wakings with Power, the talk he had with Aki, and every miserable conversation he's had with Angel, but offers enough information for him to get a picture of how things have been going. It doesn't hurt as much as it did last week. Kishibe doesn't push about anything. Neither of them mentions the girl, and eventually, Denji forgets that she's even there.

Then when she gets too close and he moves to ward her off, she bites his finger.

She bites his finger and it feels like- "Makima!?" he cries.

Every thought in Denji's head stutters to a halt. All he can do is stare at the look girl before him. She stares back, playful and impassive, with dark hair and moles, and she would look nothing like Makima if not for her eyes. Denji would know those mesmerizing golden swirls anywhere. He had loved those eyes, feared those eyes, stared into them as she tried to break his heart in every definition of the term.

Denji had loved - loves? - Makima. He loves her, and he killed her, ate her, wiped her from existence. She's a part of him and he'll knows he'll never be able to forget her, just like he'll never be able to get her taste out of his mouth. She'll always be with him, but she's gone - she's supposed to be gone, except this girl is in front of him and-

Kishibe's talking.

"This kid was found over in China, so I stole her over here," he says. "And she's not Makima anymore. She's the Control Devil."

Makima was the Control Devil, once. She controlled Aki into becoming the Gun Fiend and doing things that he'll never be able to forgive himself for. She controlled Angel into obeying her whims and destroying any happiness he may have had in his past. She tried to control Power, and may still be if she had been successful.

Denji loves Makima, but she isn't the only one. She tried to make it that way though. Makima tried to destroy his family - did destroy it in a way - and even if it hurts to think that he might never feel the way she made him feel again, he wouldn't go back even if he could.

Makima will always be a part of him. Denji never wants to see her again.

But the Control Devil is standing in front of him now, and her bite is the same and her eyes are the same, and Kishibe is still talking. He knows he should be trying harder to pay attention, but he barely manages to process it as he says, "Makima is dead. None of her remains in that kid. No memories, nothing. However, if we leave her in the hands of this country, she'll become like Makima again."

"Right..." Denji says, hollow and shaken. "Uh, I really don't wanna eat any more meat for a while, though..."

Kishibe continues on as if he hadn't said anything at all. "So, Denji, I'm leaving this kid in your responsibility."

That snaps Denji back to his senses. It isn't enough to completely clear out the fog in his head, the fear crawling up his spine, or the familiar, burning ache in his heart, and it certainly doesn't make him any smarter, but it does get him to snap his head toward the old man and blurt out, "Wha?"

"I'm going to be real busy from now on, so I figured leaving her with you would be the best option." He takes a swig from his flask and shoots and baleful glance at the kid. "Have Hayakawa help you. He could probably use something to do in his house arrest."

Denji looks back at the kid. He focuses on her inky black hair, the mole beside her mouth, the innocence in her expression, and everything about her that isn't Makima. It takes some straining and squinting, but he thinks, he can see it as long as he avoids the eyes.

As he stares at the girl, he thinks that he could reach a point where he can look at her and not see Makima at all.

But it's hard. If it's hard for him, who was immune to Makima's powers, who loved her so deeply, who still loves her despite everything, when what is it going to be like for the others? How will Aki or Power or Angel feel when they look at this kid and see the eyes of the person who reached into their minds?

Hot, angry indignation flares up in Denji's chest. His family has already been through enough. They've been through too much, and it doesn't matter how much he's doing for them, it's bullshit that Kishibe would turn around and drop the new Control Devil on them.

"Fuck no," Denji says, turning to face Kishibe. "No fucking way- huh!?"

The old man is gone.

The old man is gone and the kid is staring at him.

"Kid" is definitely the right word. She looks like she can't be any older than ten. Maybe she could be a small twelve, but personally, Denji's pretty confident in his guess as ten. She's old enough that she can be left alone for a while, but not old enough to fend for herself completely. Denji knows what it's like to be her age and completely on your own, knows how it can fuck you up, and he wasn't even completely alone. He had Pochita with him. This kid has no one. She's just here  unceremoniously dropped on Denji when she should be with an actual caretaker.

He could walk away. It would be so easy to walk away. His family would be happier for it. What happens to this kid shouldn't be his problem, and after everything, he seriously doubts that anyone would blame him for wanting to stay away from the Control Devil.

But the Control Devil is just a kid. She's a kid and-

Makima is dead. None of her remains in that kid.

Denji slumps down onto the bench.

Power's gonna be terrified. She might try to hide it, but she will be.

Aki isn't going to take this well. He's probably going to go back to hiding in his room. Who fucking knows how long it will take him to start making progress again.

Angel might actually kill him, lack of powers be damned. 

"Uh... Hey miss... What's your name?" he awkwardly asks.

The girl hops up onto the seat next to him. Bold little thing. He hopes that it doesn't make the situation even worse. "Nayuta," she says. She says it so earnestly, staring up at him with bright golden eyes that look just like Makima but also, in that second, impossibly don't.

No one will blame him if he walks away.

No one but himself.

Denji sighs. "Nayuta. You want anything to eat? Besides meat."

"Bread," Nayuta says without hesitation.

Despite everything, Denji manages to crack a small smile. "You're a devil who eats cheap, eh."

*

Nayuta may eat cheap, but eating cheap means eating at home, where Denji will have to deal with looks and questions and a conversation that he really doesn't want to have.

He takes her out for ramen. They talk and take their time, but even as he watches the sun set out the window, he knows that he can't put it off forever. All he can do is bury down his dread in the hopes that it doesn't upset the child he's suddenly settled with. His lateness getting home is bound to make the others worry, but right now, that's at the bottom of his priorities. When they leave the restaurant, he takes the long way home just so he can have a little while longer to think about how he's going to do this.

By the time they reach the house, the sky is dark, and Denji thinks that he might know what to do.

It doesn't make him feel any less sick as he knocks on the front door.

The first sign something's wrong is that he knocks in the first place. Denji never knocks on the door before entering his own damn house. He barely has a moment to ponder his mistake before Power rips the door open, hair wild and eyes frantic.

"Denji!" she cries. "Where have you been!? Was that old man tormenting you!?"

Denji swallows heavily. "Sorry Powy," he says, words that are meant to be cool and casual coming out as a hoarse croak. "Kishibe had something he needs me to take care of. Someone, actually."

Power's eyes narrow. It takes a moment for her to look down and spot the little girl by his side. It takes a moment longer for her to notice her eyes, but he catches it the instant that she does. Power staggers a step backward with a hiss, clutching the door frame and looking frantically between Denji and Nayuta. "This is--"

"-Not Makima," Denji rushes to say. "Her name is Nayuta, she's the new Control Devil, and she needs someone to take care of her."

There is no missing the terror on Power's face. It brings him back to how she would cower in fear of the Darkness Devil, except it's worse, because that was an irrational terror born of trauma. The fear she's feeling now is completely reasonable, and he's the one forcing her to experience it. He wants to say something to make it up to her, but he knows that there's nothing he can say or do to make it alright.

He'll just have to hope that they forgive him in time.

And that he's making the decision.

And that, if Nayuta doesn't turn out to be some sort of monster, he doesn't fuck her up too badly.

Right then, Denji wishes that fiends could form contracts with devils. It would be great if he could just ask Aki how all this is going to turn out. All of the unknowns make him feel sick to his stomach. It's a feeling that he has to shove aside because his discomfort is probably - no, it's definitely the least important thing going on right now.

Denji only hesitates for a few seconds, but those few seconds are still long. Power takes an uneasy step back into the house, and Denji blurts out, "I'll explain everything later. I've gotta get Nayuta settled. Can you- Can you tell Aki and Angel?"

"Tell them that the Control Devil is here?" Power asks, voice high-pitched and wobbling.

Denji suspects that it isn't possible for him to feel any more dread than he already does. He isn't sure he'd be able to function if it was. "Tell them that there's someone Kishibe needs us to look out for," he corrects.

"But she is the Control Devil," Power insists.

"She isn't Makima," Denji insists right back. He's caught off-guard by how insistent he is for someone who's only known Nayuta for a few hours, but doesn't let himself dwell on it. "Please, just... trust me? You know I'm not being controlled or anything. Her powers never worked on me in the first place."

"What about the rest of us?" Power whispers.

Denji's heart lurches. He looks down at Nayuta, who stares up at him. Her face is confused, and her eyes make his stomach churn, but the longer he looks, the more he thinks he sees a glimmer of something sad in them.

This isn't fair to any of them.

Fuck Kishibe.

"I won't let anything happen," Denji says, looking back at Power. "I promise."

Power stares at him for a long moment before racing into the house, shouting for Aki. It doesn't make him feel particularly hopeful, but she doesn't slam the door on them, which he supposes is something.

Denji looks back down at Nayuta and lets out a sigh. "Okay," he says, leading her into the house. He can hear urgent, worried voices drifting in from the living room. He tries to ignore them and hopes that the kid does as well. "Let me show you your room."

Nayuta doesn't respond. She's staring toward the living room, full of fraught voices belonging to people who are probably going to decide they hate her without even meeting her.

"Nayuta," Denji calls.

Her attention abruptly snaps back over to him. "Will I get my own room?" she asks.

Denji forces himself to smile. "Yeah," he says. Technically, it's something that he should talk to the others about, since they only have three bedrooms, but he doesn't see how it'll be a problem. Power sleeps with him every night, and Angel's always with Aki or in the living room. At least the third room won't be going to waste this way. "Ain't that cool?"

Nayuta sniffs. "No."

Denji's grin disappears. "No?"

Nayuta grabs her forearm, hugging it close to her chest, and looks away. "I don't want my own room," she says. "Let me sleep with you."

That will cause a problem. Denji opens his mouth, intent on protesting, and hesitates. Nayuta is shuffling uneasily from foot to foot. He can't see her face properly, but he sees enough to catch that her eyes are pointed at the ground and her lips are wobbling a little.

For the second time that day, he is sent back to Power's fear in the aftermath of hell. He thinks about how she couldn't sleep alone without having nightmares, and how he has no idea what Nayuta's been through before ending up with him.

"Fine," he sighs. "Come on."

The ruckus in the living room quiets down as he and Nayuta walk past it, only to start up again once they're in the hallway. It's only completely blocked off when he opens the door to his room, ushers Nayuta in, and closes the door behind him.

"Alright," he says, looking uneasily around. "I've only got one futon, so-"

"That's fine," Nayuta murmurs. She sits down at the end, crosses her legs, and rests her chin in her hands. "We can share."

Denji nods. "Cool. Do you need anything?"

Nayuta shakes her head. "Okay, great. So, uh, I'm gonna need you to stay here while I-"

"Denji."

He pauses, swallowing down the cold, hard lump in his throat. "Yeah?"

Nayuta stares at him uneasily for a moment before dropping her gaze down to her lap. "Was Makima bad?"

Denji's heart is pounding in his chest. It's in his chest, but it wasn't always. He'll always feel her wrapped around it in so many ways.

He loved her.

She never saw him.

He loved her.

She's gone. He killed her.

He needs to make sure that she stays gone. Which means making sure Nayuta doesn't end up like her. Which means making sure that she understands the things Makima didn't.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah, she was."

"And she was the Control Devil before me?"

"Yeah."

"Your friends are scared of her."

"Yeah, she-" Denji has to pause for a moment to take in a deep breath, to figure out how to explain this to Nayuta in a way that won't permanently fuck her up. "She hurt them really badly."

"And now they're going to be scared of me."

"Probably," Denji admits. "But it'll get better when they realize that you aren't her."

Nayuta nods. For a second, it looks like that is going to be that. Then she squares her shoulders, looks up at Denji, and asks, "What happened?"

Denji opens his mouth. Closes it. If he wants to make sure that Nayuta doesn't end up like Makima, he needs to tell her about her so that she won't make the same mistakes. So that she'll understand why things are going to be hard for her at first.

Closes it. Nayuta is a kid, and even if he has to tell her this stuff, he doesn't want to hurt her. But he doesn't know how to tell her without hurting her, not with his heart pounding and his head filled with guilt and overwhelmed by everything that still needs to be done.

"I'll tell you later," he swears. It's an excuse, a way to duck out of a difficult situation, but right now, it's all that he can do. "I've really gotta talk to the others right now, so just- hang tight, okay?"

Nayuta looks back down at her lap. "Alright," she murmurs.

Denji feels absolutely rancid as he leaves her alone. There's no avoiding it; if he doesn't work things out with the others right now, shit's gonna get bad right when it was starting to get good.

...Ah, who's he kidding. He just brought the new Control Devil into a house full of people who were recently fucked up by the Control Devil in a variety of horrific ways. Shit's gonna get bad no matter what he does. All he can do is damage control to try and keep bad from becoming worse.

They've quieted down by the time he starts toward the living room. He kinda wishes that they hadn't. If everyone was still worked up and on the verge of shouting, he could just focus on that. Now, there's nothing to distract him from the tension filling the air. It feels like he's walking through a layer of fog as he steps into the living room.

That's really all it takes. One step and suddenly, everyone's staring at him. Denji freezes right there in the doorway, awkwardly clasping his hands together, only to drop them down to his sides a second later. "So..."

Angel is standing in the center of the room. His glare is murderous, and beyond that, maybe even a little betrayed. Denji can only look at him for a few seconds before shifting his gaze a few feet over, toward Aki, who isn't suicidal but doesn't really want to live either. The half of his face that he can see is blank and impassive, but Denji catches the tenseness of his shoulders and the way he's standing half in front of Power, who looks no less scared than she did a few minutes ago. She's clinging to his arm. It's the rifle arm, and for once, neither of them seems to give a shit.

"She doesn't have any of Makima's memories," Denji says, because if he has to do this, he might as well get right to the important stuff. "Kishibe said that there isn't any Makima in her."

"Is that supposed to make it alright?" Angel asks, and Denji supposes that he should be grateful that he's at least trying to keep his voice from turning into an outright snarl.

At the same time, Power demands, "How do you know she is not just manipulating him!?"

"Of course it doesn't!" Denji cries. "And I don't know! Makima was never able to manipulate Kishibe, was she? I-" he runs a hand through his hair. "She's a kid, guys. I couldn't just abandon her."

"This is no place to raise a child, Denji," Aki says, low, even, and detached in a way that sends a pang through his chest. His head tilts slightly toward his rifle arm. Power adjusts her grip on it and peers up at him at the motion.

"Don't act like that's the main problem," Angel grouses.

"Of course not," Aki says, turning toward him. "But it's worth saying."

"Well, who else is supposed to take care of her?" Denji demands, even though there's a part of him that definitely agrees with Aki. "Kishibe said that if the government gets their hands on her, she'll end up just like Makima."

Angel shakes his head. "I don't know. I don't care. He should have dropped her on someone else. Anyone else."

Denji throws his arms in the air. "I tried to say that, but he ran off before I could say no!"

He realizes that he's made a mistake the second he says it. It only takes a second for Aki to say, "Then get in touch with him and tell him we can't keep her."

Power nods insistently. "Get rid of her!"

"...I'm not sure that'd be a good idea," Denji admits. "See, the thing is, the more I think about it, I'm starting to think... maybe Kishibe has a point?" He crosses his arms and, seeing the upset flash across Angel and Power's faces, doesn't give them a chance to say anything before rushing to add, "What if someone comes after her? He can't drop her on just anyone - she needs someone who can protect her, so Public Safety or whoever-the-fuck can't drag her away and turn her back into Makima."

"So you think she's going to bring us trouble," Angel grimly intones.

"No!" Denji cries. "It's just- if something does happen, isn't it better for her to be around people who can stop it?"

"...So that's it then," Aki says.

"...Yeah, I guess," Denji admits, dropping his arms to his side.

Aki hesitates, then nods. "She's yours to take care of," he says, firm and unyielding. "Leave Power and Angel out of it."

Denji nods. His entire body feels numb. "Sure. I can do that."

Aki's voice grows a shade colder as he continues, "If she uses her powers on anyone, you need to call Kishibe and tell him that he needs to take her back."

Denji's throat constricts. He doesn't know why. "Right."

"Where have you put her?" Power hesitantly pipes up.

"She's in my room," Denji says.

Hurt flashes across Power's face. She pushes it down, but not quickly enough for him to miss it entirely. "Will she stay there?"

"I mean, not all the time, but she's sleeping with me, yeah." He doesn't say that he thinks she's scared to sleep alone. It might make them a little less scared of her, but feels too much like something that he shouldn't share without permission.

Powe tugs at Aki's arm. He pulls it closer to himself, but allows her to keep clinging to him. "I shall join you and Angel tonight," she announces.

Angel looks over at her with a frown. "'And Angel?'"

"I will not allow you to sleep in the open with the Control Devil in the house," Power says.

"Great," Angel sighs. "This is going to be. Fun." He shoots Denji a dirty look before moving to walk out of the living room.

"Angel-" Denji begins.

"Do not talk to me right now," he snaps. A second later, he disappears around the corner.

Power whispers something to Aki. He nods, and she scurries out of the room, hot on Angel's heels.

Denji doesn't know what to say. He can't say nothing, but when he tries to speak, his brain fails him, and all that he manages is an uneasy, "Aki..."

Aki sighs and shakes his head. "I hope you know what you're doing." With that, he walks away, leaving Denji standing alone in the living room.

"Me too," he whispers.