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‘What are you doing?’ asks Yoshida, his tone lilting. Denji tries to focus on filling in Nayuta’s agreement slip. He will not punch that freak in the face. Even if the look he currently has is pretty much inviting him to.
He can sense eyes boring on the back of his head. Writing legible sentences is difficult enough without an oddball staring hard enough to burn a hole right through him. ‘What do you want?’
‘We haven’t talked in a while, have we? Can’t I check on my friend?’ Denji finally meets his eyes as he raises his head. God, they’re creepy. He once overheard Sayu from class 3 describe them as ‘orbs of obsidian’ but he’d argue it’s more like looking into the abyss. Which he’s kinda seen before with the whole being-plunged-into-hell thing back when he was Chainsaw man.
Which he’s not anymore.
He glares at Yoshida.
Yoshida continues on with that dumbass unnerving smile he always puts on when talking to Denji. It’s like he’s aware of the mental anguish he causes him.
Denji jumps up, snatches the unfinished slip (what the fuck is a social security number?), and shoves it in his bag along with the miscellaneous shit he has scattered on his desk. The bell rang ages ago, but he was so dead set on filling out Nayuta’s agreement slip for her school trip right then and there that he stayed back until it was only him and that guy left in class.
It’s been two weeks since he last talked to Yoshida. Not for lack of trying on Yoshida’s part, though. That stalker always knows exactly where he is at all times. And it’s not like he’s predictable either; how Yoshida found him propped up on a chair in front of the window attempting (and failing) to catch a glimpse into the girls locker room, he’ll never know.
After multiple rounds of chases, and barging into classrooms panting, he discovered a cheat code. All he had to do was stand next to the class 3 girls and they’ll swarm the creep as soon as he approaches. His genius is unmatched.
He slings his bag onto his shoulder and cuts across the classroom in long strides. His hand on the sliding door, he pushes it ever so slightly just for it to be slammed shut. Black eyes show up out of thin air and stare down at him once more; Yoshida and his dumb silent ballerina footsteps. Denji seethes.
‘You’ve been sticking to our arrangement?’
Yoshida proposes it as a question, but they both know it’s an observation more than anything. In their last conversation, Yoshida gently, or with as much gentleness as his awful personality can allow, broke the news that Public Safety wanted him to quit being Chainsaw man.
Following What Happened with Aki and Power, the news didn’t fully register in his mind until a few moments later.
The pit of his stomach dropped. Yoshida was droning on about protection and insurances, but Denji has checked out at that point.
One of the few things he had left, one that was so viscerally his, was being pried from his hands once again. God, he wanted to puke. He could fight back, but he knew the extent Public Safety would go to. He swallows once, twice. He can still taste Makima in the roof of his mouth.
‘…furthermore, you would be given full custody of Nayuta, and her proper documents would be provided if you are to enroll her in school. Her safety would be ensured in the case that you adhere to our terms. Would you like to negotiate further?’
That pulls Denji back to reality. Through all the fancy talk, all he can make out is that Nayuta will be safe. She can go to school, and learn to read without being stuck on a sentence for 15 minutes, and make lots of friends that will really love her. She doesn’t have to turn out like me.
So the knot in his stomach slightly eases, and he looks up at Yoshida. This was not really an offer. Nayuta can be normal.
Being Chainsaw man led to What Happened with Aki and Power.
Not being Chainsaw man was eating out of dumpsters and sleeping on asphalt.
He can feel the fight drain out of him. He hasn’t really been getting much rest these days. (How could he sleep in Aki’s bed in Aki’s apartment after what he did to him-)
Maybe he, too, can give the Being Normal thing a shot.
‘I want Nayuta in one of ‘em fancy private schools. And I need money for her books and stuff. And get us a new fridge too!’ Denji blurts after a minute. Yoshida blinks. The mole near his bottom lip is noticeable as the corners of his mouth quirk up into a tiny smile. It’s kinda cute. Huh?
‘Not a problem. I will draft the official contract and send it to you when it’s ready,‘ Denji is saved from deciphering that thought when Yoshida responds to his demands. The thought of another contract puts him on edge; but he figures if anything were to happen, he will always have Pochita’s heart, ready to spring into action.
Yoshida then claps a hand on Denji’s shoulder; Denji’s ear twitches. His grip is firm when he says, ‘Let’s take care of each other then, classmate.’
So yes, through gritted teeth Denji has been sticking to their arrangement.
‘Yeah, I’m capable of holding up my end of the deal, believe it or not. You got anything else you wanna say to me?’
‘Let’s walk home together’, Yoshida says swiftly, (because Yoshida doesn’t blurt). That catches Denji off guard. It’s probably something Public Safety’s making Yoshida do to make sure Denji’s keeping his word or whatever. Well if that’s what they want, he’ll give it to them. He can’t have them cooking something up when Nayuta’s school trip is just around the corner.
‘Sure.’ Denji says offhandedly. He promptly slides the door open and strides out. He ain’t got anything to hide.
Yoshida follows in measured steps until he matches Denji’s pace. They get their shoes from their lockers, which are right next to each other,(Because being in the same class and having Yoshida’s locker next to his and their ‘randomly assigned’ seats being right behind each other is totally a coincidence. Does Public Safety have this little trust in him?); Denji walks out the gate to the sidewalk, all while shoving a pair of wired earbuds into his ears and pressing the ‘Play’ button on his MP3 player.
The music drowns out the cars passing them by, and helps to distract him a bit from Yoshida’s presence. It couldn’t stop Denji from examining him, though. Yoshida is a little taller than him, still close to eye level. He walks with impeccable posture; his bag stays firmly on his left, unmoving, (how come Denji’s is always sliding off his shoulder? He’s already irritated), and the setting sun illuminates his profile. A strong nose, full lips, thick black hair, and that mole. From this angle Denji can sort of, maybe, see why the girls like him.
Yoshida then turns his head a full 180 degrees and catches Denji’s gaze, which subsequently makes Denji jump. ‘Holy shit man, that was spooky as fuck. Never do that again,’ Denji starts to say,
‘You were staring.’
‘Not really.’
‘Any reason as to why you were staring?’
‘Get off my case, you stare at me all the time!’
Yoshida then snatches one of Denji’s earbuds and raises it up to his ear, cutting their conversation short.
‘… Daisy Dukes, bikinis on top! Sun-kissed skin, so hot, we'll melt your popsicle…’
‘Hey, What the hell! Gimme my earbud back!’
Yoshida stares, and stares.
For the first time ever, Denji wishes it was one of his usual ‘I’m-a-bug-eyed-freak’ stares.
It’s not.
It is one Denji is all too familiar with; the ‘What-the-fuck-are-you-listening-to’ stare that the general populace all don when exposed to what lies on Denji’s MP3.
It’s not like it’s Denji’s fault. When he was dirt poor, all he had was a busted up radio he had previously found on the side of the road, and hey; he had to deal with the cards he was dealt. The songs on the radio, however, were mostly dogshit in Denji’s humble opinion.
Once in a blue moon though, this pop song would play in the sea of old ballads. He didn’t really get what the woman in the song was saying, but God was it nice to hear something upbeat. Those rare four minutes became some of the best times in Denji’s poverty riddled life.
So he’ll defend Katy Perry with all he’s got.
‘So what? I like the song,’ he says defensively in answer to Yoshida’s look.
‘Maybe if you get your head out of your ass you’ll start to enjoy music too,’ He reaches for the earbud in Yoshida’s hand but Yoshida pulls it out of reach.
‘I like music.’
‘Yeah I bet, you probably listen to piano and prance around thinking you’re better than everybody, lay off!’
Yoshida rotates the earbud between his index finger and thumb.
‘Not really. I like rock. The Cure, Oasis, Nirvana, all of that.’
Fuck. Denji doesn’t know who any those people were. And they sound cool as hell too. Fuckkkkk.
‘Let me listen.’ Yoshida says tentatively,
‘… Alright. Don’t be an asshole about it though.’
So now Yoshida is listening to California Gurls with him, and Denji doesn’t really know what to make of it.
He dwells on what Yoshida told him earlier. He barely knows anything about the creep. And here he is, readily handing Denji personal information without further needling. Ultimately, Denji knows it’s just music; but this is the guy who wouldn’t even tell him if he brought his gym kit to school or not.
He holds that sliver of vulnerability Yoshida has allowed him close to his chest.
They walk side by side, Denji’s bag occasionally bumping into Yoshida’s arm, with the song playing in the back drop. As it reaches its end, Denji’s apartment building comes into view.
(What Yoshida doesn’t know is that Denji could only afford to buy California Gurls. No other song. Literally only one song on his MP3. He mentally thanks Aki for picking an apartment so close to the school.)
Yoshida carefully takes out the earbud and hands it back to Denji.
‘See you soon. Let me know if you need help filling in the control devil’s agreement slip. You know I’m always here to help you.’
His lips break into that odd smile, and he gracefully walks away.
Creep. Creep. Creep. Stalker. Stalker Creep.
Denji mutters under his breath all the way up the stairs. It’s only when he’s at his door that he realizes after dropping him off, Yoshida started walking back the opposite direction.
***
That morning was different from all other mornings.
That morning was a unique anomaly because there was a bento on Denji’s desk.
Tears pricked the corners of his eyes as soon as he laid eyes on it.
Has the moment come? Has a girl finally realized what a catch he is? Is someone finally after his Denji heart?!
Unbeknownst to him, his classmates were emotional as well.
‘What did that poor girl go through in order to have a crush on a guy like Denji?’
The first periods felt like decades. Each tick on the clock was one step closer to opening his bento. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet. His blood felt electrical in his veins.
The lunch bell rang, and Denji all but sprinted to his bag. He laid his bento on his desk, a plain black box, and carefully pried the lid open. Steamed rice, an omelette, sautéed vegetables, and some cherry tomatoes.
Denji admired it for a moment. Bathed in the fact that someone took their time to feed him. Then scarfed down half the meal in five minutes.
‘I would’ve packed you more if I’d known you were this hungry.’
Denji’s shock temporarily hinders his ability to swallow. After a myriad of coughs, he looks up to stare at a tiny, god awful, familiar, smile.
‘What the fuck?’ he yells. No one else is surprised at that point; Of course it’s Yoshida.
‘I said I would’ve packed you more if I’d known you were this hungry. Maybe listening to that song damaged your eardrums.’
‘Yeah man I know what the fuck you said! You wanna see how much my hand damages your face?’
Denji doesn’t get much further before an apple slice is shoved into his mouth.
‘Dessert.’ Yoshida states, and perhaps that calmed Denji down.
After licking his lunch clean off the plate, Denji has enough energy to question the creep.
‘How come I get lunch today?’
‘You never bring food and you never buy anything at the cafeteria either. Probably why you’re so loud and angry all the time.’ Yoshida hums, and Denji doesn’t let the cheap jab get to him because he’s not the one making lunches for people he supposedly finds annoying, is he?
He ponders what Yoshida said. He makes lunch for Nayuta, and after that he doesn’t have the time to make another one. Or the groceries. So he sticks to his tried and true method of imagining food while chewing on a pencil.
‘Yeah I don’t really have cafeteria type of money-‘
‘Even if you did, you wouldn’t buy anything. You don’t eat meat and that’s pretty much all they serve.’
Huh.
Denji hasn’t really noticed it until Yoshida said it. He ignores the implications of Yoshida knowing such a thing about him (He has got to check for cameras in the apartment) in favor of thinking of the meat thing. When did that happen?
(And when did someone care enough to cater to his preferences? He remembers what he first felt in the morning, having someone take the time to feed him. His heart jumps to his throat.)
Well, after Makima, everything started tasting. Off. While some things got back to normal, like candy and fruits, meat stayed the same. Pungent and salty and way too chewy for comfort. Guess he doesn’t eat meat now.
He snaps back from his thoughts to Yoshida staring quite openly at the curve of his neck. His lunch is untouched. Denji makes a mental note to check if he’s accidentally dropped some food over there. Wouldn’t be the first time.
‘You made this yourself?’ Denji asks, secretly impressed.
‘Yeah.’ Yoshida reluctantly takes his eyes off Denji to pick at his almost full lunch.
‘Woah. You had to wake up at, like, sunrise to make two bentos,’
Yoshida repeatedly stabs his omelette with his chopsticks.
‘I barely wake up to get Nayuta to school. I’d make her get up on her own but she’s just as bad with alarms as I am-‘
‘I don’t really do much sleeping.’ Yoshida says carefully.
His omelette is a mutilated amalgamation of spring onion and eggs at this point.
So Yoshida can’t sleep either. Denji glances at Yoshida, and there’s something in his expression other than the usual wry amusement. Faint eye bags frame his dark eyes, and it makes for a rather interesting gradient Denji only really starts to notice now. Orbs of obsidian-
‘Yo you’ll never guess who they axed on shounen jump,’ Denji starts.
He cannot afford to think corny teenage girl thoughts right now.
Even with Yoshida listening so attentively to whatever stupid manga ramblings he’s prattling on about.
***
‘I just don’t think those old ass teachers can protect her,’
‘If there were something to happen. It’s a trip to the zoo. The biggest emergency is some kid peeing their pants or something.’
‘You don’t know that!’ Denji exclaims around a mouthful of rice, half of which lands on Yoshida’s face.
‘She’s the control devil. If worst comes to worst she can just eliminate them.’ Yoshida picks a grain of rice near his chin and pops it in his mouth. Weirdo.
‘We want her to be normal. None of the fucked up shit you got going up in your brain,’ Denji takes another bite of his onigiri.
(They’re heart shaped again. The first time Yoshida pulled that, Denji tried socking him in the face. He then face-planted on the floor courtesy of Yoshida tripping him mid-punch. He ended up eating the fucking onigiri, face red for more than one reason.)
The lunch bell rings. ‘Whatever the case, there’s no need for you to be so worked up about it. Don’t want Chainsaw man coming out, do we?’ There’s a glint in Yoshida’s eyes as he whispers the words to Denji. Was that a challenge?
The geriatric teacher bustles into their classroom. Yoshida goes back to his seat, but not before resting his hand on Denji’s hair; it gets promptly swatted away. Denji tries not to dwell on moments like these, which leads him to his current predicament;
He doesn’t know how to feel about Yoshida.
To his displeasure, he’s kinda grown attached. Yoshida is annoying as fuck and socially inept and kinda scary, he stares at Denji a lot and provokes him all the time.
He’s also the only one who understands him.
Chainsaw man is a huge part of who Denji is. Aki and Power occupy the greater part of Denji’s thoughts. He still hasn’t really gotten over how things ended with Makima, or Reze, for that matter.
His past is so tightly intertwined to who he is and why he is that way, and Yoshida is one of the few people who knew it, and accepted him the way he was. No one else knows why he kinda has a thing about doors now. Or meat. Or all the other weird rituals that manifested from his grief.
He feels that he has also gotten to know Yoshida a little better. He’s still a mystery, albeit a tolerable one now. Yoshida feeds him crumbs of who he is, throwaway facts, and Denji treasures them with gratitude.
Thus the question stays nestled in his subconscious, only brought to the forefront when he’s alone with his thoughts and nothing to distract him.
Is he just doing all this to keep an eye on me?
Denji hasn’t really forgotten what the pretense of their relationship is. It’s a contract. The thought is enough to put him on guard. The one friend he has aside from Nayuta, and this could all just be one-sided.
Well, Denji doesn’t have time for that right now. Nayuta can be getting kidnapped while he’s analyzing the nature of his relationship with fuckass Yoshida.
Denji spends the rest of the school day in dread, anticipating something. He’s worried sick.
(But that’s not the only thing, is it?)
He needs to check on Nayuta now. As soon as the bell rings he’ll make his way over to the zoo.
(The image of Aki’s empty apartment is burned into his mind. Don’t open the door.)
Bile rises up in his throat. He attempts to stand but, his head is swimming. God.
‘Hey, let’s go. We’re the only people left.’
That annoying cadence has never sounded so good.
He looks up to stare into the abyss. Not so bad.
‘I’m ready, dipshit. I was waiting for you.’ Denji mumbles. Yoshida lets him have it.
Per usual, they make their way to Denji’s apartment. The walk this time feels sort of stilted. Denji rambles about whatever, trying to distract himself, but he can’t really see the pavement clearly. He’s not sure if what he’s saying is intelligible at all.
They get to his apartment building, and the pounding of his heart is deafening. He kinda feels like laughing. Chainsaw man, deathly afraid of empty apartments and doors.
He distantly registers a hand on his shoulder.
‘You never showed me your place. Leeching off me while not offering anything back is bad manners, Denji.’
He could kiss Yoshida right now.
And here lies the larger factor of Denji’s inner turmoil.
This wasn’t the first time that thought has crossed his mind.
Somewhere between walking way too close to each other on the way home, minuscule unsettling smiles, and heart-shaped onigiri, he has come to the realization that this feeling didn’t exactly lie under the dudebro category. It wasn’t new either. The last time he felt this way was with Reze. Who was a girl. With boobs. Denji’s crush on her was inevitable.
Yoshida has a creepy smile that he saves only for Denji and unnaturally big hands he’s always resting on Denji’s shoulder. He picks at his food and doesn’t know when to appropriately end eye contact. (Or maybe he does. He just likes to mess with Denji.)
It all makes for a bunch of predicaments that Denji buries deep down along with all the others that have plagued him before.
Yoshida gives him a little shove. Right, apartment. Denji will take that lifeline and cling to it, pride be damned.
‘I let you borrow my MP3 player, dumbass, return it before you leave,’ Denji mutters in response.
They walk up the stairs, (Denji swears he catches Yoshida eyeing his ass), and they make their way to Denji’s door.
He fumbles the key in the lock and after what feels like years, the door unlocks. Yoshida doesn’t comment on it.
Denji pushes the door open.
‘Ta-da. Take your shoes off.’
Yoshida does just that, while taking in the apartment. Denji hopes Yoshida isn’t some secret rich millionaire with shit like a dishwasher. His apartment is what he calls disorganized but functional, (or what Nayuta refers to as a mess), and the last thing he needs right now is judgement.
‘Wow. When was the last time you’ve seen your floorboards?’
Yoshida is saved from Denji’s wrath by the horde of dogs charging his way. Yoshida falls back on his ass, and the volume of Denji’s laugh can be heard in the next prefecture over.
‘It’s not that funny.’
‘It kinda is though.’
Yoshida’s eyes are surprised (after months of Yoshida-watching you learn to differentiate expressions otherwise identical to the naked eye), and his face is slick with dog drool. There’s a twinge of pink on the apples of his cheeks. The corner of his lip quirks into a genuine smile and suddenly nothings funny anymore. Denji’s stomach does a back flip.
‘U-uh, let’s go to the living room, I wanna show you the game I told you about,’ Denji says. Yoshida gets up with as much grace as he can muster, with three dogs all over him, and follows Denji.
As the screen loads, Denji hands Yoshida the extra controller-
(Power’s controller. Right, this is Aki’s apartment. The guy he killed.)
‘-and X is to jump, right?’
Yoshida’s voice cuts through that line of thought. Denji blinks. Yoshida takes a moment to look at him.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. X is to jump, yeah. If you’ve got the controls down I’ll start the round.’
Yoshida doesn’t pry. He never does. Denji sometimes wishes he would.
After twelve rounds and six soda cans, Denji’s beat. After eight hours of anxious thoughts, he lets the exhaustion wash over him.
He lays back. The clock reads 4:03 PM. Nayuta will be home soon.
Yoshida has absolutely slaughtered him through all twelve rounds. He’s not surprised, but irked nonetheless. He can’t complain though, getting his ass beat in-game has successfully warded off any further panic attacks. He rests on the ground, his head next to Yoshida’s crossed legs.
Yoshida starts the next round, and Denji doesn’t even bother to play. He observes as Yoshida flames the kid that plays against him.
‘Wowww. That was cruel.’
‘Doesn’t have anything to do with me. Should’ve known.’
‘What if he ends up, like, becoming a shooter or some shit?’
‘So be it.’
‘Are you only doing this because Public Safety told you to?’
Denji’s throat dries up immediately after saying it. He always spits things out before thinking.
Yoshida doesn’t flinch. He finishes his round in yet another victory. He sets the controller down.
‘This?’
‘You know. Hanging out with me. and all that.’
Denji’s face burns. The dread piles in his chest. The humiliation, it’s all too familiar.
Yoshida turns towards him. Denji doesn’t raise his eyes. Keeps them trained on the dog tail resting on Yoshida’s thigh. It wags once, twice.
A substantially larger hand cups his jaw. His eyes meet black.
‘You think Public Safety’s been ordering me to make you heart-shaped onigiri?’
That’s all the warning he gets before warm lips cover his; his mind goes blank. Yoshida presses further.
His heart flutters and all these feelings that have been culminating, watching Yoshida watch him, spill over the edge.
Yoshida licks at his lips, placing little kisses before pulling away. His hand drops down to Denji’s neck, and he deepens the kiss. He tilts Denji’s head before licking the side of his mouth.
He thought he knew hunger, but this was a whole new domain. All semblance of sense seeps away, and Denji grasps onto Yoshida’s shoulders, pulling him closer.
It never felt like this with anyone before. This is the first time he’s ever been kissed with need, with urgency. Not a means to an end.
Denji lets out a noise he didn’t think he was capable of making. Yoshida’s grip tightens and his movements get more desperate, less calculated. He’d never known Yoshida to be this unguarded. Yoshida’s tongue glides over Denji’s canines.
They separate for a beat, and holy shit this is almost better than the kiss-
Yoshida’s hair is ruffled, he’s breathing heavily and his grip stays tight on Denji. He doesn’t look directly at him. Splotchy red stains his cheeks, going all the way down his neck. He’s nervous.
Denji takes one hand off his shoulders and with as much delicacy as he holds in his body, he tilts Yoshida’s chin to face him fully.
Pools of black meet his gold.
Denji tentatively places his lips onto Yoshida’s, and presses a chaste kiss. He wonders if Yoshida notices the rhythm his heart is pounding in. He pulls back, presses a kiss just under Yoshida’s lips, on his mole. Yoshida lets out a shaky breath. His hand slides down to Denji’s waist.
And then the door swings open.
‘I’m homeeee!’
The dogs, who were previously in the kitchen, surround Nayuta before she can even glance at the living room.
Due to issues regarding doorbells and knocking, Denji has given Nayuta a key when she first moved in and now she knows to open the door and walk right in. He brought this on himself.
Denji kicks Yoshida off of him with a power rivaling that of multiple devils.
‘Welcome home! How was your trip?’ Denji attempts to tame his hair and fix his shirt before the dogs separate, allowing Nayuta in. Yoshida’s groaning on the floor like the little bitch that he is.
‘Giraffes are actually ugly as hell. Also Haru peed his pants on the bus and made us all run late so we couldn’t even catch the dolphins. I wanted to kill him so bad.’
‘Awww the dolphins are the best part!’
Nayuta sets her bag on the couch and throws her shoes off (those were half of Denji’s stipend); only then does she pay attention to Yoshida.
‘Hi. I sensed you from outside.’
‘Hi.’
They’ve met before, to Denji’s dismay. All their schedules coincided once and the bus dropped Nayuta off the same time Yoshida and Denji made it home. Nayuta called him ‘The Weirdo’ to his face, to Denji’s delight.
‘What animal was your favorite?’ Yoshida asks her. How he was able to pull himself together in five seconds remains a mystery for Denji.
‘Hmmmm. The octopus, probably.’
‘Good choice.’
Denji takes that as a cue to kick Yoshida out of his place. ‘Thanks for walking me home, I’ll seeyoutomorrowbyeee-‘
Yoshida stands firmly by the door, despite Denji’s attempt at pushing him out. Yoshida’s hand raises, and he cups the back of Denji’s neck. his finger caresses the skin that lays there.
Denji’s nervous system is an unregulated mess at this point.
‘See you tomorrow.’
He pulls his hand back. Denji’s eyes stay fixed on his when he smiles. There’s a glint in his eye and his face is slightly flushed. Denji tries to Stay Normal.
Relieving him of his torture, Yoshida takes his leave. Denji watches him until he’s out of view, then walks back into the apartment. He’s sure he looks the way he feels right now, but Nayuta is kind enough today to not comment.
He goes to the kitchen and starts prepping their lunch while Nayuta changes. He picks up his MP3 player from off the counter, puts the earbuds in and presses ‘Play’.
A strange song with a familiar voice starts playing. No way.
A newly bought remix by the name of ‘Katy Perry’s Top 100 Hits’ stares back at him. His little Denji heart clenches in his chest.