#yoshida trail

[dadsbongos]

i am a sword // i am a shield

word count - 15.8 k // warnings - unhealthy/codependent relationship themes, reader has ego/identity issues, potential dub-con but nothing actually happens, brief mention of animal death, existential crisis, past manipulation/abuse from makima for both of you, also you and denji are both adult-core, and reader is specifically written as a girl, CSM part 2 spoilers!!!

summary - The Rejection Devil gets put on a new mission -- to be Denji's girlfriend so he doesn't blow his cover as a normal guy living a normal life!

In late 1995, you are led into a tall building with a smooth, plain white finish and windows you wouldn’t be able to count even on both hands and feet. You aren’t sure where you were before this, and you can’t be certain why you agreed to trail the red-headed woman downstairs. All you know is that your life - your real life began with that red-headed woman and those winding stairs into the bureau basement. She’s speaking in a voice so silky smooth, you’re compelled to listen even though her words make your head hurt.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so easy to track down this time. You fight more than this.”

You hug your arms around yourself as the darkness swallows you both whole, a door clicking shut behind your backs and leaving your only route to be following this strange woman. She smells like iron and spoiled milk veiled thinly by cheap vanilla perfume. It makes your nose wrinkle.

“Are you sure I can stay here…?” your eyes drift to the many metal doors lining the cramped basement walkway, “It’s scary down here.”

She giggles, hands clasped behind her back, and doesn’t so much as look at you as she replies, “You’ll be safer here than out there.”

Coming to a delayed pause outside a gaping steel doorway, the woman maintains her straight-lace posture while you hunch into yourself. Coldness wheezes out of the room, and a single twin mattress on the floor with no sheets or pillows laid in the middle, making your arms wind tighter around your midriff. Your beige dress may reach the ankles, but it's still thin - branded together with noncommittal strands that fray at the hem.

“Can I… go home?”

“Where?”

You swallow the lump in your throat and nod silently. Right. There is no home. There is on the mattress she provided, or there is under her mud-stained boot heel. You step into the concrete room - a boxy affair that wouldn’t even hold a bed larger than a twin.

“Good girl,” the woman coos, head tilting sweetly as she lays a hand over the steel door, “And I’ll be back tomorrow to see you again, how does that sound?”

You nod meekly as the door slides shut with a heavy groan and shick.

The woman is not back the next day. Or the one after that. Or even the next five. By the time you see her again and learn her name (Makima, you recall: it tastes like sour cheese coated in sugar on your tongue), there are sixteen shallow tallies on the wall nearest your bed, and blood and rock mix grossly under your index fingernail.

In mid-1998, the debut of Tokyo’s summer showers threatened to kick off overhead.

Swirling, lumpy clouds mask the sun’s golden rays behind a sickly gray - sky darkening as the rumbles of an incoming storm roll under your feet. Yoshida marches ahead of you in confident strides, his familiarity with the building ahead your only savior to navigating Fourth East High School.

“Chainsaw Man really goes here?” you fidget with the unevenly hanging ribbon tied around your collar, “Why? Couldn’t He just avoid high school? I hear it’s terrible…”

“It is,” Yoshida confirms, not so much as looking over his shoulder at you as he guides you to your shoe locker, “But Chainsaw’s supposed to live a normal life now.”

“How would I help with that?” you watch Yoshida’s slender fingers pry open the rectangular metal door to fish out a pair of white lace-up sneakers. He lets them clutter to the floor before tapping the door’s plated number and wandering off to his own cubby, “Isn’t Kishibe His warden now? Why are we getting involved?”

Knowing Kishibe, Chainsaw Man is most likely left to his own devices more often than not. The man called “Mad Dog”, after all, would not be your top choice of fatherly figures, so perhaps Chainsaw Man is better off controlling his own life.

After swapping his own shoes, Yoshida stands where the entrance tile ends and the hall tile begins -- the entrance tiles are slightly darker in shade. Alabaster over pearl. He waits patiently for you to stuff your outside shoes into your locker and slam it shut before continuing down the hall. Teenagers in uniforms just like yours (though, you notice embarrassed, much neater and straighter than yours) are crammed by the walls, clogging staircases, and even looming in open bathroom doorways. So many voices all at once, they hurt your ears when they fight each other over who can draw the most attention. The joke is on them, with so much chatter you can’t pick out even a single conversation.

“Yoshida,” you call timidly from over his shoulder, and he hums - tilting his head just barely in your direction to indicate he’s listening, “How are we helping Him?”

Yoshida pauses in the middle of the corridor and turns to face you, one hand securing the book bag slung over his shoulder and the other in his pants pocket. His cheek meets his shoulder as his eyes flutter from the top of your head to the toe of your shoes, “I’ll show you at lunch. Just know you’re really doing good here.”

“At a high school?”

“For Japan,” he shrugs and turns back around, “Maybe the world.”

You like working with Yoshida more than most other devil hunters. He’s soft-spoken, but not from some unbearable shyness -- and he’s gentle, but not pitying. But even so, Yoshida is as much of a devil hunter as any and that means he selfishly uses what isn’t technically his. Well, technically it is actually.

Your power technically belongs to everybody except you in the name of public safety.

Cringing at your own overuse of the T-word, you slide wordlessly into the seat Yoshida points to as soon as you both enter a classroom. Your new classmates are sparse, and you assume that most of them remain out in the common space to squeeze out as much socializing time as possible. A few eyes follow you, so you flatten the crinkling, wrinkled material of your vest and undershirt with shaking hands. Secretly, you hope the sweat in your palms will slick the material down.

In the desk behind you, Yoshida sits with his cheek resting in his palm. Tired, lidded eyes skip over your withering frame and up to the clock above the teacher’s podium. His foot starts tapping as if he’s already expecting the dismissal bell to ring.

When a gaggle of girls approach and their gaze sticks to you a little longer than you think is appropriate, your hands shiver up to your hair. A terrible fire in your chest urges you to pat and soothe down any untamed strands you may have somehow missed in the mirror. Not that the mirror in your room is one of those great fancy ones you see in movies - the kind that fits the whole wall and never has a bothersome speck - but you think it gets the job done. Apparently, not well enough, you huff bitterly, glaring down at the pleats in your skirt joined by haphazard wrinkles vining down the unfolded sections.

You, still with a hand wound nervously in your hair, twist to look at Yoshida’s lame face, “What’s He like?”

“Hm?” Yoshida drags his dark eyes from the time to your pinched face, “Stupid.”

“Be nice…”

“Well, then he shouldn’t be stupid if he doesn’t want me to call him stupid. And lousy. But pretty. And he likes cats.”

Yoshida grins lazily when you perk up at that, stress lines melting away in favor of raised brows and wide eyes, “Really?”

“Mhm. Has one, too.”

“No way,” you perch both hands on the back of your chair and inch closer, “What’s its name, do you know? Is it black? Or white? Does it have long whiskers?”

“No idea.”

He watches your impressed gape press thinly into a frustrated line, “I thought you knew Him!”

“I do, but I don’t know his cat.”

“Do you think He’ll let me meet His cat?” you lean closer despite your apparent disappointment.

“Definitely,” Yoshida’s grin widens, eyes narrowing up at your buzzing excitement, “Why wouldn’t his girlfriend meet his cat?”

“Huh?” your brows furrow again, but you’re prevented from inquiring further by the attendance bell, your teacher tiredly saddling up to her podium soon after.

You’re going to help Japan (maybe even the world) by being Chainsaw Man’s girlfriend?

The sentiment is so baffling and strange, that you’re almost unable to sit still through class (not that the cause of your distress being sat right behind you helps any).

Yoshida’s standing just after the first ting of the lunch bell, his first curls around the oddly bent collar of your uniform before he’s yanking you up. Your new classmates file out of the room and Yoshida keeps a hand pressed flatly against your spine. He’s practically shoving you down the hall, towards one of the upward staircases.

“Where are we going?”

He sighs quietly into your ear, “Where do you think?”

“What?!” your hands scramble down to where your top is tucked into your skirt waistband, hoping it looks as neat as it did this morning. You trip on one of the step ledges, almost smashing your nose into the floor until Yoshida’s shoving hand grips the back of your vest tightly. He yanks you back into his chest, and you toss your head back to stare into his obsidian eyes, “We’re meeting Him now?!”

“Duh,” he forces you forward once again.

“No way!” you can feel your throat swelling, knees filled with jelly as Yoshida pushes open a heavy metal door. The dark sky greets you above, the rare ribbons of sunlight available reflecting off steel bars.

A lone boy leans against the furthest railing, his hair is tousled and unkempt. A pretty, silky coral that reminds you of the softness of mangoes’ flesh. Long in the back but trimmed at the sides in a way that tells you he might be cutting his own hair. His uniform is unbuttoned, flaps billowing in the wind behind his lax frame.

“Hey, Chainsaw!”

Lone Boy turns, plum bags hang under drowsy, unimpressed copper eyes. He sticks up a peace sign to acknowledge the call and waits silently as you and Yoshida approach his post. Despite the careless stance, he smells strongly of ashed cigarettes and dog fur unsuccessfully obscured by the plastic mimicry of a floral detergent.

Any polite greeting you’d hoped to muster is trapped in the dry cavern of your mouth. Tongue too heavy to form words. Your hands twitch up to the rail and you press your entire weight onto it to alleviate the wobbling in your knees. Yoshida stands at your side, squeezing your shoulder before speaking,

“I wanted to introduce your girlfriend,” he pitches you like those men in polos talk so passionately about whatever product is hottest in sterile white film studios, “And the best part? When it comes to her, you don’t need to keep any secrets ‘cuz she already knows.”

Denji stands straighter, his slumped leg shooting out in attention, “You know I’m Chainsaw Man?”

You nod skittishly.

He tilts his head, “You a fan?”

“Of course!” you chirp, hands squeezing around the rail so tight it burns, “You’re amazing!”

“Good to hear,” he leans closer, coppery eyes igniting with interest, “How’d you know? When’d you find out? What’d you think when you found out?”

“Oh- I’m- !” you reach up, straightening your bowed ribbon and trying to even the strands, “I’m a devil…” you shake your head, “Not as impressive as You, Chainsaw, just the rejection devil…”

His silence is chilling, and the disgust he must be feeling from your claim is starting to rot your insides. A terrible, agonized rot that no amount of blood could heal.

“Sooo,” he places a hand over his shirt - it has his own chainsaw form’s silvery and orange head on it with bubblegum pink characters lining his name, “You think ‘m a big deal, then?”

“You are a big deal!” you lean into him, at least hoping to lap up his body’s warmth if you can’t get his approval, “Huge!”

“Good, then?” Yoshida gives Chainsaw Man a thumbs up, “I’m sure a devil wasn’t your first choice, but a girlfriend’s a girlfriend and she’s nice. Listens. Easily impressed. Plus your big mouth won’t ruin anything.”

Chainsaw Man ignores Yoshida completely, grinning at you through shark’s teeth, “Name’s Denji. I like girls that like me.”

“I’m a girl!” you beam, bouncing on the balls of your feet, “I like you!” you tug sharply on the black ribbon around your neck, “I think you’re the best!”

Denji nods curtly, visibly smug. His posture curves again, all suave and cocky, “What can I call ya?”

Yoshida steps back when you glance at him uncertainly.

“My name?”

“Uh-huh.”

“My name,” you state blandly, blinking at Denji as you try to cobble together sounds and vowels that sound familiar. Makima had a name. Could you have one, too? Angel just went by, well, Angel. Quanxi had a name. So did Princi. You must have a name, right? “I don’t know…”

Yoshida chips in, both hands in his pockets, “Nobody really calls her. If they do, it's just Rejection.”

Denji glares at Yoshida, “That’s shitty.”

Yoshida shrugs, “She’s enrolled as Yoshida, Reiji.”

“I am?”

Denji wrinkles his nose at that before looking back towards you, “Do you like that name?” you shake your head, just slightly enough so you can deny doing it if the only real Yoshida child gets offended, “What do you like?”

“I like fruit…” you twist your hands around the rail, the metal cooling your flushed skin, “And cats.”

“Peaches?”

“I like peaches.”

“Okay, peachy,” he stands straight, and there’s something sweet about the way he smiles at you -- the way his body jitters, like the thrill of being a boyfriend is jumping out of his veins, “We should go out! After school. Today.”

“Okay! Totally!”

You realized quickly that going on a date with Chainsaw Man (Denji, you correct yourself, Denji) meant that you’d be going out without Yoshida when the boy walked straight past you and out the gates without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t even wait for you to change out your shoes before leaving. How nerve-wracking…

Pacing, you wait for Denji to exit Fourth East and tell you where you’re both going for your first official date. You watch the black slip-ons Yoshida shoved at you this morning crease against the floor with every step. You get so entranced by the sight that you don’t notice Denji’s approach until a hand stops you by the arm.

Jumping under the sudden touch, you gasp at the sight of Denji before awkwardly calling, “Hi!”

“Hey,” he drawls out the vowel, releasing his tender grip on your bicep, “So, where d’ya wanna go?”

“Huh?” you tense up - was that a genuine question? - before gnawing your bottom lip unsurely, “I don’t know. I thought you’d know.”

“Is there anywhere you’d wanna go?” Denji starts walking, book bag hanging limply over his shoulder.

You rush to catch up to him, tightly clutching the straps of your own bag in front of you, “I don’t know!”

“Really?” he turns to stare at you, only to find you watching your feet against the pavement with a soldier’s focus. So he looks back up, glaring when a man in suit and tie doesn’t move to the far side of the sidewalk to avoid knocking shoulders with you. The man glares back at Denji, but relents to dodge you, “Anything you’ve always wanted to do?”

“I don’t know…” your brows draw towards the middle of your face in concentration, “I like… Food?”

“Me too,” he murmurs in solidarity, “What about ice cream? There’s a place nearby, and cheap! You can get two soft creams for three hundred yen!”

“Woah!” you don’t know anything about that or how important it actually is to get two servings for three hundred yen, but Denji is excited and that feels like a good enough reason.

“Right?!” his steps quicken, hand circling yours and pulling you along. His hand is warm with rough calluses blooming around his digits, but it feels nice in yours, “And you can combine any two flavors for no extra charge!”

Upon arrival, you are only a little disappointed, but you suppose you probably shouldn’t be. It isn’t like you were genuinely owed your preference, that’s why it was a preference, right? In the same way, you prefer to have control over the heat to your room in the commission basement but don’t.

“Ah, no mango…”

“You like mango?”

“I’ve never had one,” you admit, albeit confusingly following it up with, “It’s my favorite, though.”

“Oh. Okay,” he nods as if filing the information away for later, and you hesitate to ask if he actually cares, “My favorite is the bubblegum. It makes me sick if I eat it too fast, but it’s really sweet,” you nod this time, slowly, “But you like fruit, so you’ll probably want the strawberry one, right?”

You nod faster.

When neither of you steps towards the patiently smiling vendor, Denji leans forward, “Do you want me to order for both of us?”

“Yes!” when you realize how outright eager you sound, you try to quiet yourself down, “Please, that’d be nice.”

Denji gives you a peace sign before taking charge towards the old man behind the open counter.

Upon his return, Denji holds out the small cardstock paper cup to you, a miniature plastic spoon buried into the soft pink mound. Darker red splotches decorate the scoops, sinking to the bottom the longer you take to grasp the treat.

With unsteady hands, you almost knock the soft serve from his fingers before clumsily clutching it with both palms. Sadly, the spoon could not be saved once rattled from its spot; the plastic unceremoniously clattering onto the pavement. Strawberry sweetness splatters onto the toe of your shoe, staining your laces. Your chest fills with the heaviness of dread, the freeze of the ice cream spreading through your hands and all the way down to your wiggly jelly knees. You look up from the grizzly death scene to Denji’s blank face.

You squeeze the cup, strawberry cream teasing to gush over the lip, “I’m sorry.”

Denji shakes his head, orange peel locks flicking wildly. His coppery eyes gaze up at you through his dark lashes, soft around his stare. Suddenly, the cherries of his cheeks brighten up, balled and red with glee, “‘s fine!”

“It is?”

“I have an idea…” his posture straightens and he reaches for his own cup, scooping out hot pink bubblegum and swallowing down the sugar before offering the utensil to you, “We can share!” you reach for the spoon and Denji creeps closer, anxiously rolling his fist as you use the same spoon, “This is our first indirect kiss.”

He swallows down the other woman that briefly flashes through his mind. Instead, he focuses on the way your tongue swipes over your lips to lap up any excess ice cream. You blink up at him and smile before holding out the spoon with a soft, “Sorry…”

Shaking his head again, Denji feels the sparks of excitement spark little fires down every vertebra of his spine, trailing over the rungs of his ribs when he brushes your fingers, “What’re you sorry for?”

“You have to indirectly kiss me every time you want ice cream…”

Denji raises a brow at you, having a spoonful of his treat before passing the plastic back to you, “You’re kind of a downer, huh?”

“Ah,” you cradle your ice cream closer to your chest, “Sorry.”

“Downer, yeah,” he nods to himself, slipping the spoon from your hand - gentle, warm fingertips pressing into your skin again, “I guess if we were both jumpy, it’d get boring,” catching your downcast stare into your liquidy strawberry ice cream, Denji cranes his neck to force eye contact with you. He says nothing, but slides the spoon into your cup.

He’s honestly just glad to be so close to a girl without her trying to kill him. He’d hoped you’d be glad to be here, too.

His eyes follow as you glumly take the spoonhead over your tongue. Denji is consumed by the need to know your every thought, each tissue’s twinge should be beamed into his brain the second it happens. For a moment, he even finds the idea of knowing each other so well to be comforting. Like warm toast smeared with every jelly he can get his hands on.

You say you like him, but you keep apologizing for indirectly kissing him - it’s confusing. A dull buzz began to ache through his head at the mixed signals. Denji is excited every time his turn for the spoon comes around (even now, his hands are rattling with anticipation as he reaches for it). He can’t separate the taste of your saliva from anything else, but the hint of saccharine strawberries is more than enough. He’d never apologize for greedily sucking at the aftertaste of your ice cream if the roles were reversed.

Does this mean he pushed it with the indirect kiss? Should he have just asked for another spoon? Will you let him have a direct kiss anytime soon?

None of those questions shake Denji in his beat-up shoes, which are tearing at the soles, so he decides that if you really hated it -- then you would’ve told him. Besides, Denji got lucky(????) having his first direct and indirect kiss on the same night and not everybody is so fortunate(????).

The women, however, he grimaces just remembering. So instead of focusing on a fuzzying eyepatch and unrecallable (yet unmistakably soft) voice, or hair like consuming embers and too-tight smiles -- Denji turns to you. To your modest displeasure over the flavor, you’d been stuck with over your apparent favorite.

“Are mangoes really your favorite fruit?”

You shrug, slapping the spoon against your melty cream and watching droplets rocket over the cup’s edge, “Even though I haven’t had one, yes. I like the flavoring best of any other fruit. Do you like mangoes?”

“Haven’t had one either. Haven’t had most fruit,” he looks up and notes that the cloudy weather is inappropriate for an ice cream date, but you haven’t said anything against it so he doesn’t either. Then, as he stares into unfolding skies, blue peeking through clearing patches, he tries to recall any fruit he’s had that isn’t a plain apple or grapes. All the fruit he knows about is through artificial recreations, and for some reason that strikes him as unpleasant, “Do you prefer mango over peach?”

It takes a few prolonged, stiff seconds of silence before you snap to the realization that Denji expects a response.

“Mango is…” you twiddle your thumbs, wondering which answer he would rather hear. You aren’t sure, you don’t know which fruit he likes best. Or if he even likes fruit! So you stab your left thumbnail into the pad of your right thumb and decide to give the answer you truly feel, “‘Mango’ is a weird nickname - peach is fine. Peach is actually… cute.”

Denji nods rapidly, you notice he’s standing a little closer than before, “Okay, peachy. I’ll stick to that.”

Azure whistles overhead, downtrodden weather fading away calmly. You wonder what else is left for people to do on dates -- you’re sure they spend time together, but doing what? Denji took you for ice cream because he likes ice cream, does that mean you get to choose the next activity? When does the date end?

Does it ever end? You two are already boyfriend-girlfriend after all.

“What- “ you’re cut off by the sound of Denji’s voice, “When- “

“Sorry,” you wave him off, “Go, you go first.”

Denji purses his lips before drinking the syrupy remains of his aggressively saccharine bubblegum ice cream, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and stares at the stained base of his cup, “When’d you decide you wanted to be my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t. Yoshida just said I was being reassigned.”

“Oh, so you didn’t know?”

“No.”

You can’t read Denji’s expression at all. It’s all straight except for the smallest downturn of one corner of his lips, “You didn’t know anything about me, did you?”

You shake your head, “I just knew I was going to meet Chainsaw Man. I didn’t know He was you.”

“You’re really only here ‘cuz you knew I was Chainsaw Man?”

Denji shouldn’t be hurt, he knows that was the plan eventually. To catch a fly with honey.

But when you plainly nod, it does hurt. It hurts a lot.

“Well,” you’re itchy all over, uncomfortable because he’s uncomfortable, “I think you’re great.”

“Right…”

Frowning, you hang your head and stare at the floor, “I do.”

You can’t read Denji at all. You’re supposed to placate him and you can’t even do that right. What if he breaks up with you? You’d be far too embarrassed to show your face back at work. The Rejection Devil met a force she could not deflect (seconds later you realize that the irony alone of being rejected as the very devil itself alone might kill you). How humiliating.

Denji’s head flops back limply, the apple of his throat exposed. You’re almost alarmed by the way you want to nibble it. He blinks up at the rolling sky, eyes watering as the sun burns away fitful clouds.

“Denji,” you plea weakly, feeling as small as an ant under his downcast mood, “I like Denji, too.”

His eyes flutter over to you, “You do?”

It feels like an opening - when the battle is at its climax and your opponent’s foolishly left their weak spot unguarded in the adrenaline rush, “Of course, I do. You’re cool when you’re Chainsaw Man, but you’re cool when you’re Denji, too.”

“Really think so?”

“I really do.”

Denji smiles suddenly, and you smile too just because he does, “You free tomorrow after school?”

Of course, you are.

You choose not to point out that keeping him company is what you should be doing after school anyway. Hopefully, he doesn’t consider that fact.

In January of 1996, you meet an imposing man with stitches across his left cheek and a flask tucked haphazardly into his trench coat - the silver glints under sickly fluorescents.

“Timid, but useful, if she can behave without me there,” Makima talks about you like you aren’t standing directly in front of her. She keeps her helix eyes just over your head at all times, “I’m sure she will, but I think you’re the best thing to test her with first.”

The man behind you reeks of booze and womens’ perfume and mold, but somehow it feels less safe than Makima’s more foul stench.

“Quiet one, huh?” as if to begin the ‘test’ early, he pokes you in the back of the neck, “Sure it's a Devil?”

“Positive,” she winks and taps her nose, “I have a good sense about this stuff.”

You don’t want to go anywhere with the man with the stitches. Physical attacks and special abilities from your fellow Devils are things easily deflected by your own power, but Miss Makima has taught you a new lesson:

Words do not bounce off the Rejection Devil.

And the man with the stitches doesn’t smile at you with any kindness.

“Then let’s get to work, yeah?”

You think he’ll actually enjoy finding all the ways around your rejection abilities.

“I thought we were going out today…”

Denji’s been your boyfriend for a measly two days, but he already hates the look of your disappointment. Those glassy eyes and pouting lips, they make him want to chew marbles and swallow. Instead, he scratches at the soft skin on his neck, clawing up red marks from chipped, short nails.

“I wanted to! ‘m just failing… hard. So I need to get my history shit done.”

“I can help!”

“It’ll be boring as hell…“

“No, really,” you hesitate to grab his hand before committing, his cheeks flush at the warm contact, “I could even just watch.”

Life is more boring when Denji isn’t around anyway. You’re mostly just… waiting to see Denji again every time you two part ways. Even the books and journals they supply you with at the commission cannot distract you from how gray and cold your room is now. All you think about is sunshine hair and thick lashes.

“I just don’t- “ you release his hand and look down at your white indoor shoes, “I just thought we would be together longer today. If you want to work by yourself, then- !”

Denji snakes his hand back into yours, shaking his head vigorously, “No way! That sounds terrible.”

“Okay!” you try to smother the elated smile rising to your lips, but it's totally hopeless. You nestle into Denji’s side, using him to navigate the (largely abandoned) halls of North East as he leads you both towards the school library. Your attention drifts to your feet against the floor once again.

Denji pulls his hand slightly behind his back, squishing your body tighter to his, every time someone passes you both, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Look at your feet.”

“If I tripped over myself in public, I’d just about die…”

“Makes sense,” he glares at a trio of boys walking down the narrow corridor shoulder-to-shoulder until they break apart to avoid bumping into you.

You remind him of Kobeni for that. He realizes he hasn’t spoken to her in a very long time. He wonders if she’d even appreciate him trying to reach out. Probably not, he concludes; but he likes you better anyway, which is appropriate given the circumstances.

“Why do you…” you hum quietly, contemplating the question as you both arrive at the library. Denji squeezes your hand encouragingly, finding you two a table far off from the rest, “Why did you try using Him to get a girlfriend?”

“We’re the same person,” Denji shrugs before tilting his head and shrugging again, “I dunno. It worked before.”

“Really?”

“Not really,” he isn’t minding his volume as he replies, not like you do. Two other students are holed at tables by themselves, one underclassman debating two books in the nonfiction section, and the librarian at her desk, “Every girl I’ve met before you has tried to kill me…”

“Aw, that’s terrible… You’re not someone I’d kill.”

“,,,”

“Not that I could. But even if I could, then I still wouldn’t.”

Denji nods, a pensive screw overtaking his face, “What if there was a prize? Like. Something really, really cool that you’d get. Would you kill me?”

Instantly, you’re shaking your head, “Never!” you’re still whispering, cautious of irritating others even as your boyfriend drags you into the depths of his ego death, “I’d run away with you if it came to it.”

Iron pools in his mouth. A severed tongue. Soft daisies leave dirt and spit-up trailing over his chin. An ominous choker that stayed on, even when she stripped to go swimming.

“What if I couldn’t run away?” he still has a family after all. Bigger than last time, even. If he had to run away, he wouldn’t.

You frown, “Then I guess I’d have to stay away for good…” then, you settle your head in your hands, palms cupping your cheeks, and Denji has to look away to avoid spilling his guts about how cute he finds that, “Wait, I’m not gonna have to run away am I?!”

The shrewd librarian raises her head only to shush you before burying her nose back into her binder of book logs. Denji flips the old lady off at the same time you mutter an apology.

She takes note of neither act.

It irritates Denji in a way he’s unfamiliar with because more than the urge to be acknowledged is the need for him to know that the woman heard you.

“I really can help, if you want, also.”

“Huh?”

“You said you’re failing,” you point out, leaning forward onto the table by your elbows, “I’m passing everything, so I actually can help. If you want!”

“Seriously? Didn’t you just get here? How’re you already all smart?”

“I just don’t want to fail,” you wave out your hands as though to dismiss any ill-intent, “Not that it’s… I’m not sure how to say it… I don’t think it’s terrible of you to fail, school seems really hard. I just feel sick at the thought of not doing well.”

“Your class is lucky to have you to answer questions, all my classmates are dumbasses,” he bites bitterly.

“Oh, I don’t really answer questions. Yoshida does sometimes, though.”

“Why don’t you?”

“What if I’m wrong one day?”

“Are you ever?”

No, but that doesn’t mean you’ll start raising your hand anytime soon. To distract Denji from this topic, you stretch closer to him over the table and insist on helping him finish his history work. That way, he won’t have to do it in replacement for your date tomorrow.

“Hey. Why d’ya like Chainsaw Man?”

His fiery eyes are all raw, mushy dough. He looks terrible and sad. You want to fix it, whatever or whoever made him this way. You simper sweetly and confidently declare,

“He’s so powerful. He can kill any devil he wants. And so can You, Denji. You’re both so amazing. But I like You best.”

“... I like you, too.”

In February of 1996, you are sent on your first real mission with Kishibe -- Makima stating he was your safest partner option after training together so long.

Your tie is tied too tight, and your pants cinch uncomfortably around your thighs. You can’t maintain any sort of normal breathing pattern and that’s beginning to occupy more brain space than your actual upcoming fight. Mostly, you’re trying to level your heavy breaths so as to avoid irritating Kishibe. Logically, you know him to not be hotheaded and prone to rash lashing out, but the fear of him slicing your chest open lingers there.

Far too soon for your liking, the car lulls to a stop outside the boarded, graffiti’d Love Hotel. Swiftly abandoned by faculty and regulars alike as soon as the Devil made itself known on the fourth floor.

Just remembering the bold letters printed at the top of Kishibe’s briefing report sends a shiver down your spine -- FOUR CIVILIANS DEAD. TWO PUBLIC HUNTERS M.I.A. ONE PRIVATE HUNTER K.I.A.

“Come on,” Kishibe jerks his head towards the building and you trip after him like a newborn puppy.

You follow Kishibe into the Love Hotel and patiently wait for his orders before heading for the top floor. He pauses at the stairs to jerk your body in front of his, shoving you in the back to hurry up the flight as he meanders behind.

“I want you to clear the first floor ahead of me.”

A command, no room to fight back. Not that you would. Following his orders blindly feels more comfortable, anyway.

“You ever get the urge to bite people?” Denji pops the question while watching you peel an orange. The underside of your thumbnail is stained yellowish from the skin you punctured, and some bizarre voice inside him whispers that he should dig the flesh out with his sharpest tooth.

“Hm…” you roll the orange peel into a ball and settle it beside you on the rooftop pavement, seeing as there are no nearby trash cans, “I don’t think so…” you rip the conjoined slices in half and hand the slightly fatter side to Denji, “Maybe when I first met Kishibe. He scared me.”

“Really?” Denji pops one of the juicy slices into his mouth, eyes still trained on your fingers as you carefully squeeze out the brown seeds inside before eating, “I just thought he was a geezer.”

“That’s rude!” you’re trying in vain to keep your lips pressed in a straight line, as if the Mad Dog would apparate at your back and kick you just for laughing.

Denji leans back and chews another slice of the orange, tucking the seeds under his tongue and debating whether or not it’d be a waste to spit them out. He shrugs, “‘s true. He had a flask, too. Definitely thought he was some weirdo.”

“I guess maybe a little…” you hesitantly admit, “He super liked beating me up when we met.”

“Oh, yeah. Like for training?” Denji finishes his half of the orange and settles on swallowing his seeds.

Just as you go to respond, the bell to end lunch rings and Denji is stumbling up to his feet, swiping up the pile of orange skins and your discarded seeds. He offers a hand to help you up and you wonder if it’d be more polite to spare him from the sugary orange blood on your skin.

“My hand- “ you begin, words sudden and jumbled, and you feel shyness suffocate you under his blank stare, “Sticky… it’s sticky with-“

“I know,” he waves his hand out again, “I watched you.”

“You don’t mind…?” you take his hand, earnestly shocked by the quickness with which Denji yanks you off the ground.

And just as Denji opens his mouth, Yoshida is yelling at you both to hurry inside from the doorway to the roof. Denji flips Yoshida off before turning to you, he squeezes the orange in his hand and thinks about the sweetness.

Oranges are better than apples, he thinks, but he can’t find a real reason as to why. The seeds are a hassle, and he’d hate to sit there and peel one, but he liked sharing just half an orange with you more than he liked having an entire apple to himself in Aki’s apartment. He can see the orange juice still glistening on the bow of your lip. His eyes linger there, and he knows you notice because you’re suddenly fidgeting under his gaze.

You wait patiently, eyes flickering down to your shoes before meeting his again. He isn’t sure what that means. So he turns back towards Yoshida and stuffs the boy’s palm with the orange husk before walking you to class in stiff silence.

Your bed is thin and flat against the floor. A bookcase that only reaches your waist is pushed against the opposite wall. You’ve read every book in it twice over. You don’t remember when every empty slot was finally occupied, and you don’t remember the last time you touched one of the books and felt genuine interest.

You do know that you once requested a brand new book from Makima, and she’d refused you so simply you once believed it was a personal slight you’d committed against her. You also once requested a television -- you had it for one week before it was taken away. You never asked why because Makima herself came to oversee your beloved TV’s removal from atop your dusty bookcase (though you doubt you would’ve had the courage to ask even if she was absent).

During that week, however, it was the happiest you’d been since coming to Tokyo.

A lot of what you watched was utter garbage. Contrived plot lines and miscommunication and shallow characters you’d sooner choke out than shake hands with, and it was the most beautiful entertainment you could’ve asked for. What you quickly discovered to be your favorite viewing material was movies made specifically for television. Usually lower budgets and completely unknown actors. A paradise all to yourself.

“That’s it, watch your back,” Makima’s soft voice called when one of the men nearly slammed into your doorway on the way out. She turned to you with a smile, “Anything before I go?”

A prompt, you figure, to ask if you had the courage to demand your stolen present back.

Rather, you shook your head shyly, twiddling your thumbs, “Well, could I maybe get a window…? I’d like to see something other than…” you gesture to the walls around you.

They, too, are covered in a thick layer of cloudy dust.

Makima extended a hand to pat over your head, “No,” she stated as blandly as your room was decorated, “You’re still a security threat.”

Another test. Would you deny it? Would you dredge up the fact that you’d never once reacted with hostility? Would you bare your teeth and try (in vain) to rip her apart?

You nodded solemnly and watched Makima exit.

And your room has remained untouched since.

Denji’s handwriting was a sloppy chicken scratch, often paired with backward or mismatched characters, which was why he asked you to write his reminder note.

YOYOGI PARK ON SATURDAY. 12PM.

And at 12:02 PM, you sit on a picnic table surrounded by tall ginkgo trees with bouncing knees as Denji makes his approach. In one hand, he clutches a plastic bag, logo wide and distressed around a massive bulb shape. In the other, is a knotted tangle of black and red leashes tethering seven wiggling and yappy dogs to his side.

“I didn’t know you had so many dogs,” you hold out your hands for the dogs to sniff and lick before petting over their heads and behind their ears.

“I got a cat, too, but I dunno if she’s allowed in.”

You sit straighter, letting the dogs press their heads into your hands for more attention, “So you do have a cat?!”

He nods, laying the bag on your table with a thud and crinkle before sitting beside you -- thigh firm against thigh and arms brushing, “You’ll meet her eventually.”

Denji leans over the edge of the seat to lift a corner of the table, stapling the leashes into the grass. Even if they weren’t collared, you doubt they’d try running off anyway with each dog avidly jamming itself into both your spaces. Big drooly jaws resting on your lap and paws digging into your calf for even more attention.

“Hey,” Denji whines when he sees the opaque slobber Tiramisu is webbing on your pants, “Off. You’re makin’ her gross.”

“It’s okay,” you insist, tempted to rest your head on Denji’s nearby and tantalizing shoulder as you pet the husky, “I have a lot of these pants in my room.”

“These’re your casual pants?”

“Yeah.”

Denji side-eyes you, but says nothing more about your white button-up and black slacks being ‘casual’.

“If I could have a job, I’d buy you lotsa clothes,” he mutters, “Whatever you wanted,” he’s so quiet you almost feel apologetic for hearing him at all; but before you can suss out a response, he suddenly whirls around in his seat and sticks both hands into the plastic bag, “A mango!”

“A mango?”

“Uh-huh,” he wrestles the fruit free from its plastic confines and rolls it into your hands, holding an arm out in front of you to keep his licking dogs at bay.

“...for me?”

“For you!” he echoes. He’s trying to play everything off casually, but really his hands are moist and vibrating - his gut cramping as he awaits your feedback, “Old man was in Kyushu, so I had him get a souvenir… I hope you like it, he bitched about how expensive it was the whole time I saw him.”

Taiyo no Tamago. Egg of the Sun. Gold leafing into fierce, flaming oranges and reds. You bet that the real slices are even juicer, tastier than faux flavorings.

Between both hands, you gingerly cradle the large mango and feel your mouth watering just as you stare at the fruit.

“Kishibe got it?” you lift the mango towards the blazing sun, inspecting the skin for any damage, “It’s not poisoned, right?”

“Nah,” he squints at the fruit as well, just to be extra sure, “I can try it if you want?”

“Aw, no, it’s- I’ll be okay either way, but I trust you,” Denji watches you pet over the mango like it's a fat kitten curled over your arm. He grins at the sight and doesn’t question it, scared that if he does, then you might stop, “So, does he watch over you?”

“Not really. Sometimes he comes around just to know I'm alive.”

“Do you get lonely when he’s not there?”

His face wrenches sourly at the idea of Kishibe lingering around the apartment, “I got the dogs and Meowy. And a little sister… friend… type living with me,” his eyes dart over you warily, “You’ll probably meet her eventually, so…” he inhales sharply, “It’s, eh, you know, the new Control Devil.”

“She got reincarnated already?” you whisper it, like you’re saying something inappropriate.

“Well,” he winces, “Nayuta’s her own person. Same Devil stuff, but she's nothing like Makima.”

“Sorry! Of course! I didn’t mean it like that…”

Denji feels a pang in his chest at the sight of your cowering frame, consumed by guilt over misspeaking, “Don’t worry ‘bout it. Just didn’t want you freakin’ out when you meet her or anything.”

“I’m nothing compared to Her, I’m not really in the place to freak out.”

Something disturbs Denji so staunchly at the ease with which you say that. He can’t place it, he just knows that the very sentence made his stomach curdle and tie his intestines in knots.

You tilt your head, “Can I ask…?”

“Shoot.”

“Is it… well…” you shake your head, but Denji shakes his back.

“Just ask. Whatever ya wanna know.”

“You said Nayuta is her own person,” his brows furrow but he lets you finish before speaking, “Do you never consider maybe they’re… similar?”

He’s quiet for an unbearable eight seconds before answering casually, “Guess if I thought about it for a long time, I could find ways they’re alike. But I don’t really think about it that long. Nayuta’s my little sister. Makima was…” he shouldn’t say exactly what Makima was to him in front of you, he knows that much about being a boyfriend at least, “Makima. They’re totally different.”

It’s extraordinarily complicated to even put words into describing what Makima meant to him. A lot of things he’s learned were sick, but some things he almost… wants to hold onto.

He definitely shouldn’t say that to you. But it isn’t like he misses her, he misses the comfort of their early days. If you could even label it “their” days. Makima may have been like Nayuta at one point, but he knows Nayuta would never so meticulously stab him in the back. Or the chest. Repeatedly. Miserably, however, he knows that even if she did -- he’d probably still love Nayuta like she were his sister. How he imagines an old dog still craves the warm hands of their human as they fall asleep for the last time.

Dangerously, he wonders if he may one day feel the same for you, smiling as you dig a knife through his chest just because his girlfriend is still holding him.

And when you blink up at him like he’s as delightful as the mango in your hands, he thinks he might.

You beam at Denji before shyly turning your gaze back onto the mango, curling both arms around it. This time with all the tenderness you would a baby and tuck it into your chest.

If Makima and Nayuta are different maybe you are too.

You hope so.

Tsuyu time is finally looking to drag to an end by early July -- with yet another rain storm. Fourth East faculty has very kindly allowed students to stay past the usual close time of 6:00PM due to such harsh winds and lightning raging outside. You hadn’t accounted for this when you asked Denji to accompany you to a bookstore’s summer sale after school. The frustration you feel could boil the falling rainwater with how heated such sudden weather has you.

Impatiently, you and Denji are leaning right side against one of the entry door frames with his chest to your back.

“They’ll be closed by the time the rain lets up…” you grumble.

Denji almost wants to laugh: the first time he sees you act minorly unpleasant is over books.

“There’s always tomorrow,” he’s not sure, actually, “Probably.”

You scowl out at the wretched, amalgamated clouds, “Sale better still be on tomorrow…”

“If not, there's next year.”

In an embarrassing instant, your annoyance wavers. You tilt your head back into Denji’s shoulder to look at him, “You think we’ll be together next year?”

Honestly, he hadn’t meant to imply that. All he meant was that you’ll be able to go next summer whether the sale ended today or not, but when you bat your eyelashes at him all softly he’s compelled to agree to whatever you want.

“Why not?” he shrugs, fighting to keep his arms relaxed at his sides rather than folded over his chest defensively.

Your lips stretch with mirth, a smize following lead, “I want to go with you to the summer sale next year, Denji.”

The confidence of your confession is rattled from you as quickly as it’d appeared.

Until, “Even if we go today?”

His tone is bleeding hope.

“Even if we go today,” and you’re all too merry to confirm.

Denji slides to your left, hands shaking wildly, “Can I- should we?” you quirk a brow at his chopped questions, “Can we kiss?”

“Do you want to kiss me?”

He nods rapidly. You want to kiss him, too. You reach for one of his hands and tug him closer with a much slower nod.

“We can kiss, Denji.”

“Awesome,” he lamely sighs under his breath.

You remain glued against the metal frame, leaving Denji to be the initiator. He’s the more dating-experienced party anyway.

Denji swallows audibly before steeling his nerves and leaning so his lips are just brushing yours. You can feel the hot puffs of air he lets out, and you’re praying he can’t feel yours. Neither of you has shut your eyes yet, weirdly certain that the second you do disaster will strike.

Up close, you can really see everything -- his messy sunset hair, the peeling skin on his lower lip, and the faint red veins peeking around his sclera. His skin is stained dark like pomegranate juice. Finally, he tenses his eyes shut with a wrinkle in his brow and commits. Given how chapped his lips looked, you’re amazed they feel nice against yours at all.

Your eyes flutter shut and you press back.

You don’t dare venture further than the chaste lip-lock before Denji pulls away, leaving a sharp stabbing sensation on your bottom lip in his wake. His low-lidded stare widens as soon as he sees your chin.

“Oh, shit.”

Cupping the aching area, you feel a slickness slowly leaking over your fingers. You dip a finger to your lip and pull back to find a stain darker than pomegranate juice.

“Denji!”

“Sorry, sorry,” he grimaces, reaching up to swipe away the blood spread over your chin.

“You bit me!”

“I know!” (he does a poor job hiding the aggravated trill in his voice there)

His fingers are all smeared with your blood by the time he’s done makeshift mopping up your lower face, and he wipes his hands off on his black school pants. You pull your lip back as if you’d be able to see the trivial wound. The motion tests Denji: wanting to maintain his nurse act, but also wanting to kiss you again.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore…” you twist a hand into your rumpled uniform skirt, “It’s okay. I wasn’t mad, just surprised.”

Forlorn, Denji reaches up to gingerly thumb at the spot he bit -- now swollen and darker than the rest of your lip. Only minutely, but still. His brain can’t compute how small-scale your injury is over the fact that he was the one to cause it in the first place, “I’ll be more gentle next time.”

You nod, face growing hotter the longer Denji touches you so softly, “I trust you.”

The rain thins outside.

“Can I try again?” Denji’s hand slides from your lip to your jaw until he’s tenderly cupping your cheek.

Again, you nod, hoping the shift in movement will get air to cool your melting cheeks.

Puddles are splattered by a few brave students rushing home, and Denji holds onto hope the storm clears fully before the bookstore closes.

By spring of 1996, you’re given your first journal and pen; and in winter of that same year, you finally pluck up the courage to try putting your headache-inducing thoughts to words.

A Devil is more humanoid the more that Devil tolerates humans -- you don’t know where you learned that. Or why you remembered it. It’s just something you’re always certain of, in the exact same way you blink and breathe you are also indistinguishable from a human being. When the both of you met, Makima spent time examining you from head to toe to see if there were any visible tells of your true species.

You aren’t sure why you look the way you do, you don’t like humans. Although, you don’t exactly dislike them either. When you think of people, flailing on swings and cramping grocery store produce sections and knitting warm winter sweaters, you feel only a vague thrumming in your heart at the knowledge that they could send you back to Hell. A primal and innate sensation of spine-tingling fear. If enough people discovered you outside Makima’s care, then you would be back in Hell.

Maybe it’s that fear. Your knowledge of the tipping power scales could be maintaining your flesh and bones. Strangely, you wish you looked more horrific - a gaping, toothy maw and claws in place of hands. Swells of discolored flesh that twitch with each beat of your heart.

You wish you looked appalling. Absolutely ghastly. Maybe then Makima wouldn’t like looking at you so much.

But then, what if you were so scary that Chainsaw wanted to eat you?

While being free of the perpetual motion of death and rebirth in Hell unto Earth and Makima’s inescapable, piercing gaze, you wouldn’t want to face off against Chainsaw. He’s the Hero of Hell, so wouldn’t that make you the villain?

You’d rather be reincarnated and stared at by a million Makimas than be so terrible that the puritor of Hell forced himself to consume you. And he’d be able to -- you’re sure of that, too. Not even your rejection of other Devils’ powers could be so strong as to deny Chainsaw. No, no. He’s far too great.

You think of that figure - one that makes your usual aching thoughts whirl into devastating stabbing pain just trying to remember - covered in Devils’ blood and guts and you feel nervous that perhaps Makima will try finding him too if she reads of him in your journal.

So instead of expressing those thoughts to free your searing skull, you jot down a plain:

Made a new contract today. His name was Yoshida, Hirofumi. He said I was nice for not wanting to eat his body parts as payment :)

“Denji! Over here!”

It's a stubbornly drizzling Tuesday when you’re shouting through the school gates, inky uniforms parting around you like a gentle river flow. Usually, getting your peers to not body check you is terribly difficult, but maybe the authority you carry in a Public Safety suit and tie is more pressing than yourself. While students shelter their heads with small book bags and hands and vests, you’ve got the plastic handle of a black umbrella warmed up in your palm.

Denji tilts his head at your distant frame before suddenly shooting ramrod straight. He rushes out from under the shelter of Fourth East and through the gates to your side - puddles splashing under his quick feet all the way.

“Heard you were out,” Denji ducks under your umbrella, tempted to hook his chin on your shoulder and sap up your body warmth.

“Just a mission,” your hand clenches with the urge to grasp Denji’s, but you take no such initiative, “Sorry I couldn’t tell you myself.”

He shrugs, “‘s fine,” then he sighs shortly, brows scrunching, “Fucker let me sit on the roof for ten minutes before saying anything.”

“Aw, I’m sorry! I told him to let you know in the morning…”

Again, Denji shrugs off your worry -- eyes trailing slowly from the pristine white collar of your shirt down to the smooth black slacks snug around your waist and thighs, “Been awhile since I’ve seen one of those.”

Ironed and fresh and symmetrical black-tie apparel. It seems far too dismal on you, he doesn’t like it. Memories of strawberry blond hair and scorching blue eyes snuffed out, he tries to smother those down as often as possible.

“Oh, I have my school uniform!” you lift a plastic bag up, sealed around more black and white folds, “In case I needed it…”

In case you want me to change -- you don’t add that part. You’re not sure Denji would appreciate the reminder of a power imbalance while you’re dressed like this. You already know that you don’t like thinking about Makima while dressed like this.

He nods, wordlessly sneaking the bag from your grasp to his so he can hold your now free hand, “You look pretty.”

“Really?” you two finally begin walking away from Fourth East and to the same ice cream place he’d taken you on your first date.

“You always look pretty,” Denji doubles down as if it's that easy. As if it's so simple. As if it’s undeniably true, “‘m glad I saw ya. Thought we wouldn’t be able to go out after school.”

“Sorry, again. They’re trying to avoid giving me more work, but I guess this one couldn’t be helped…”

You’re almost nervous Denji picks up on that sentiment of “more”. That “more” means you’re already working, which is mortifying because even if Denji is technically work you don’t want him to think that. You chalk that concern for his feelings up to not wanting him to grow tired of dating you.

But Denji doesn’t make any indication of having noticed, “I guess I’ll have to get used to it: dating the Rejection Devil.”

Now you’re genuinely nervous.

That sentence alone freezes every cell in your body -- heartbeat stilling lethally. Your hands crinkle down your long pant leg before scrunching up the material around your thigh -- ruining the plain smoothness. Desperate to feel something in the spiraling numbness, you stab your teeth into the ripe flesh of your lip, tearing up thin strips of skin. And you chalk this up to a defect in your usual personality.

“Hey, Denji?”

“Hm?”

“When was the last time you called me ‘peach’?”

“I dunno,” he answers honestly before he blinks his brain into action and looks over at you, “I’ll use it more often, if that’s what you’re saying.”

“No, you’re fine, really. I just…” you can feel your chest bump in tune with your heartbeat, so overt and harsh it's causing authentic sparks of pain in your chest, “I’m sorry.”

For what, you can’t be precisely sure. You think, as a general rule to yourself, you’re sorry for everything that he doesn’t like, especially when it comes to everything about yourself.

But he just thinks you’re still stuck on earlier today, “Like I said, I’ll just have to get used to dating the Rejection Devil.”

Despite the two being in one body, you’ve come to learn that Chainsaw Man is Denji, but Denji is not necessarily Chainsaw Man.

While yes, you think Chainsaw Man is great, you think Denji is somehow even greater. It’s almost unfair. The Rejection Devil is okay, but are you? You as in you as in the fleshy, squishy, bloody you? You as in the you with a name you don’t remember (and desperately hopes her government-assigned boyfriend calls her peachy)? You as in the you that likes sugary fruit juice and soft cat fur? Are you okay? Could you one day be great?

Or are you only as useful as the devil you are? Protecting hunters and killing beasts and soothing the lively Denji (and therefore the Chainsaw inside him).

Are you still Denji’s girlfriend because he likes you? Or are you Denji’s girlfriend because he knows you might be the only available option? Could you be great like Denji? Could you be named?

Or is your soul too entwined with the Rejection Devil? Is your soul the Rejection Devil itself? Do you have a soul at all?

You must if you keep coming back. If your birth and death are celebrated and mourned, you must be alive.

Too bad you remember none of that.

If you died now, would Denji mourn?

You know you’d mourn him, but is that your choice?

You know you like Denji, but is that really you? Or is that Rejection Devil admiration spiraling into an infatuation for the Chainsaw and his host?

Does it even matter at all?

“Do you wanna come over after school tomorrow?” Denji asks like it's an afterthought, one he doesn’t even need to look at you for. Maybe he already knows your response.

“Yeah.”

Maybe he’ll grow bored soon. You wouldn’t blame him.

“Yeah!” you repeat it louder this time, hoping to entice a bigger reaction from him (this is the first time you’re going to his apartment after all), “I’d love to!”

He nods, though with a rosier tint to his cheeks than earlier and that’s good enough.

By October of 1997, your second diary was full with one last addition.

The wall closest to your bed has only 273 tallies, and you stare at the dust pooled in the shallow divots when you get bored. With every book read and only the same four walls to stare at until a Devil Hunter came with a contract proposal or a mission -- you were bored more often than not.

In a strange way, you still got excited when you saw Makima because it meant something new was coming. However quickly it would then be stripped away wasn’t even an afterthought.

But you’ve gone a long while since seeing her. You can’t be sure of the days passed with no window or calendar or even clock; you can’t even be sure you’re sleeping at night and awake during the day. Part of you is sick over the ache in your heart the longer you go without seeing Makima, Yoshida, or even Kishibe. As though they’ve all forgotten you exist. You could be locked down here for eternity with no means to die and not a single soul would be bothered to find you. But if they did?

If they found you, would they care?

Would they cry?

You don’t think so. You’re hardly something to cry over.

So does it matter at all that you’re down here? Certainly, a life of nonexistence is better than languishing in a cellar, burdening commission resources with no purpose.

Maybe when Makima finds Chainsaw, she could have him eat you. That would be nice. An honor to be so miserable upon humanity that Chainsaw is left with no choice but to consume the concept of your being. An honor to finally be wiped off this planet.

With a drying pen, you scribble that down.

To be eaten by Lord Chainsaw. That would be freeing.

And after sleeping that night(?), you awake to find Makima blatantly reading out of your journal. When she turns to stare at your crumpled form on the bare mattress, she smiles and reaches over to pat your head. Like an eager puppy, you push up into her touch and don’t dare demand she stop reading.

“You’re a good girl,” she coos down at you.

“I am?” you croak.

“You are,” she stands, snapping the book shut and continuing to smile down at you, “And you have a mission today.”

When Denji notices you curiously eyeing the black slip-ons by the door (which are multiple sizes too small to be his), he’s quick to explain.

“Just Nayuta. She throws her shoes wherever she wants.”

“Okay.”

You hadn’t planned on asking, but you like to imagine that maybe he didn’t want you getting jealous. Then you wonder why you like that so much. Probably because he’s your boyfriend, and you’re meant to.

Before you can spiral, a soft mew nabs all attention. Dogs’ nails clack against the faux wood tiles and you and Denji are quickly surrounded on all fronts by wagging tails and soft fur. Sniffing, happy puppies lick at your hands. You wrinkle your nose at the unadulterated smell of dog and you're hoping Denji doesn’t notice when suddenly a long tail wraps around your ankle. Loudly, you gasp and swoop down -- frightening Denji only a little -- to smooth your hands over the fat white cat’s fur.

“Kitty!” you’re borderline squealing in glee, and Denji shoos his dogs away after giving them their due pets, “So big!” you encourage the feline to pounce onto your lap with quick taps against your thighs.

“Meowy,” Denji clarifies (as if you could forget!), leaning over your shoulder to scritch under the cat’s chin, grinning when she starts purring in your coddling hold.

“I love you, Meowy,” you whisper to the cat, and Denji sits on the floor beside you after figuring the fat cat won’t be moving on from you anytime soon.

You’ve been looking forward to this since you heard about the cat, and somehow all your expectations have been exceeded.

“Didn’t know you liked cats so much, peachy, I woulda introduced you sooner.”

“Cats are so picky,” you keep your voice low as if raising it could startle Meowy off, “When a cat picks you, it feels so nice.”

“You must be a hit with the strays, then. Meowy usually fucks off in the living room instead of hanging by the door.”

You shrug, sluggish and dismal, “I’m not usually allowed out unless it's for school. Or you.”

Denji feels nauseous. His whole chest is tight with this unpleasant curdle. Quickly, he decides that he hates this feeling and wants it eradicated as soon as possible. Subconsciously, he must believe the solution is you because before he can really think about it, he’s lugging you off the floor and towards his room.

He lays you on his bed and falls into your side with Meowy now latched to your chest; purring loudly as you pet her with one hand, and Denji snatches the other. Rather than link his hand with yours like usual, he splays your fingers into his mess of tangerine hair.

Turning your head so your cheek meets the feather plush of his pillow, you find Denji’s eyes boring into yours. You blink at him with your hand limp over the side of his head, “Do you want me to pet you?”

Denji nods, crimson overtaking his cheeks and sweat beading over his palms.

“Okay.”

You card your fingers through his hair, gently prying loose knots apart over your knuckles before tenderly dancing your nails along his scalp. He presses his head closer, cheek now smooshed on your shoulder and eyes flickering shut.

Shakily, he raises an arm and lays it across your stomach, careful to avoid spooking Meowy. You can sense his hesitation in how the weight of his arm is so light it's imperceivable, then you press your hand flat against the back of his head and pet there, too. His arm relaxes, fully settling the weight on your gut.

This feels right.

Crushed and warm.

You’re doing a good job, you think.

You smile at the thought of being so useful and Denji hugs you tighter.

“Can I…” Denji swallows, throat cinching dryly, “I wanna make you feel good.”

“I do feel good.”

“Good good,” he’s quiet now. Voice all raspy and unsure, “I want to do something for you.”

That would be good for Denji too, right? He’ll be happy.

But you’re not sure you want to.

But not wanting to isn’t exactly your job.

Your job is to make Denji happy. So you lift Meowy from your chest with great remorse and watch the cat prattle out of the bedroom, “Okay.”

Sickness unlike the kind before a big fight builds in your stomach. Bloats all the way to your throat as you go limp in bed and allow Denji’s hands to wander. He sits up and untucks your uniform vest and top before gliding under those and resting over your bra.

Denji looks up at you for encouragement and finds a stoic appraisal. Then his eyes drift to your balled fists at your sides, and the lip you’re ravaging between your teeth.

If you had offered this to him -- he’d be on cloud nine, so what’s he done wrong? Denji clears his throat and finds a burning sensation at the back of his eyes, he tries blinking the fire away but it only makes the pain worse. He’s certain that this is what boyfriends and girlfriends do for each other. They bring each other to euphoria and lave one another in attention every night. This kind of service (or rather, the promise of service) was one of a few things that Denji recalled fondly from his days under Makima. Unfiltered affection: nasty and raw and intimate.

But the longer his hands are cupping over your bra, the more defeated you look.

The vicious pain in his chest bites up to his head.

“This isn’t hot at all…” Denji’s hands peel off from your chest to stow in his lap.

You shrink into yourself, shoulders coming to your ears as red-hot shame climbs up your neck, “What?”

“This isn’t hot,” he leans back with his arms outstretched behind him on the mattress. Hotter and hotter the burning grows until it's all wet, stinging heat in his eyes, “You’re not into it…” he looks around his room and tries finding anything out of place (he was sure he made it perfect!). But no, all the posters a girlfriend wouldn’t like are hidden under his bed with the magazines a girlfriend would hate. The blinds are drawn. His door is locked. He sniffles and looks down, hoping you don’t notice the flooding along his lower lashes “What’s wrong? You don’t like me? Ain’t I handsome?”

Inching your shoulders even higher, as if to somehow hide behind them, you frown, “What if you think I look weird naked? Or I make a sound you don’t like? Then you won’t want me anymore…”

Denji scoffs, lips twisting in an almost offended snarl, “You’re my girlfriend! I’ll still want you!”

He’s sure you don’t look or sound weird, but he’s also simultaneously sure that if you do then his loyalty will twist the weirdness into some obscure new fetish.

But you’re shaking your head, what more does he want?

What if he finally does have sex and realizes he never wanted you at all? What good are you doing then?

“We’re hardly a real couple…” his pout is just that, and one of his eyebrows is quirked curiously - he’s totally clueless, “What’s my favorite color?”

“I dunno!” he groans, then shrugging and sitting up straighter, “I know you like mango best even though you’ve only had a single one in your life. And you like staring at your feet when you walk so you don’t trip, which is annoying ‘cuz I gotta make sure nobody runs into you. And you never raise your hand in class even if you know the answer. Which is even more annoying ‘cuz now people think you don’t pay attention, but you’re passing every class,” he frowns a little, “You’re the smartest girl I know,” his frown deepens when you don’t smile like he’d hoped you would, “And you like cats more than dogs.”

“I like your dogs,” you weakly defend.

But he never meant it to be a jab in the first place, “But you like Meowy more.”

“I think we should break up.”

“Oh…”

“Just for a couple days,” your voice is tittering, all soft mush. If he so much as stood up and crossed his arms then you might take the suggestion back, “Three at most… just to see if this is really what you want.”

“I do, I know I do.”

“I know you want a girlfriend. Do you want me? Me me.”

“‘Course I do,” he sulks, “You’re…” he stops himself, the churning ache in his stomach sensing how displeased you may be with the repeated argument of you’re my girlfriend, “Do you want me?”

You’re silent. He tenses.

“I don’t know if we want each other.”

“I do. I want you. I want to- I haven’t given you anything. I want to give you things. I want to be nice to you, too. I want to make you happy.”

But how could he? You’re a tool, and now you’ve upset him. Are you worthy of being upset over? You aren’t so sure.

You aren’t even certain you have the power to make the call for a break-up. You’re a tool -- you don’t think you’re anything worth crying over.

But Denji is absolutely sure you are. And he knows he wants you, and that feels right because you’re his girlfriend. But curiously, even after you leave and he’s apparently now single, he continues to want you. He wants you so bad that he turns onto his stomach and buries his face in the pillow you laid on, just to see if he can still smell your perfume on it (he can).

In November of 1997, Makima got you a cat.

“You like them, right?”

“I do!” you’d smiled so wide your cheeks hurt, giddily petting your new friend, “Thank you, thank you! I love him!”

That same night, she makes you hold the small, quivering kitten above your head as she takes aim with a single finger. Your words are slurred with spit leaking down both corners of your mouth in your hurry to beg for your friend’s life. Your eyes are squished half-shut, trying to juice all the tears out without cutting Makima from your vision. You choke on your own breath, snot sour on your tongue as you shriek for her mercy.

bang

You don’t remember much else after that. You think you passed out as soon as the wall to your right indented.

You do, however, remember waking up the next morning and weeping into the kitten's soft fur. Hugging the warm, live feline to your chest and praying Makima would die on her next mission (by now, though, you were smarter than to think your prayers had merit). You even feel rebellious enough to engrave the edgy remark in your personal journal.

As repentance, Makima sends you on a month-long mission only days later. When you return, it’s to an empty room -- aside from a note left on stationary you recognize as ripped straight from your journal.

Kitten got sick. :( - Makima

Yoshida is stomping ahead of you the entire way to school the next morning, and you already know he’s fuming. You had hoped that by the time you both reached Fourth East, he would have calmed down; but you’re quickly proven wrong as he storms up to you once you’ve switched shoes at your cubby.

“Are you- !” Yoshida holds both hands over his face, muffling the scream he unleashes, “Are you serious?! You were doing everything right! You two were fine!”

“I’m sorry, I just- I don’t think I should be here… I’m really confused about how I feel all the time. I think I should go back to- “

“You don’t get to decide that,” he hisses, visible eye wide with rage, “You better beg him for another chance, I am not letting you fail this mission just because you’re ‘confused’.”

“I don’t want to beg him,” you stand a little straighter, maintaining fierce eye contact, “I want him to be sure- “

“This isn’t a dorama!”

“Hey, stop yellin’ it's annoying,” a passing voice snaps. The both of you look up to see Denji glaring sharply at Yoshida, “And don’t yell at her at all.”

Yoshida is quiet as Denji stalks off, the latter’s back growing smaller the further into the distance he goes.

“Did you like him?” Yoshida asks, voice returned to his typical lulling forbearance.

“Huh? What does that matter?”

“Shut up,” he commands before redundantly asking again, continuing to stare deep into the direction Denji was headed, “Did you like him?”

Did you?

You did. He was prettier than Yoshida prepared you for. And more considerate, too.

Deep down, you even think that maybe he’s inspired you - regarding you higher than you’d ever taken yourself for. You’ve realized things since dating him: you hate your room at Public Safety, you want to try petting more dogs, you don’t like school, and you really, really hate not having a name.

A real name.

“I think I did… Can I still like him?”

Yoshida groans under his breath before walking off, “Do what feels right!”

“What?!”

Scratch that -- you really hate that cryptic answer above all else!

Despite not having anything else to be tending to, you dawdle around Fourth East more often than not after being dismissed. You prefer wandering around the track twenty times over retiring to bed as soon as you get back to the commission’s basement.

Not even homework can entrap your attention long enough for the days to be less agonizing.

You watch your outdoor sneakers line one after the other along the white paint - you wobble less now that your body’s used to the limited movement. However, the idea of falling onto your side on lap twenty-one is mortifying. So when you’re too busy staring at your feet, you jostle into a body at the starting line. Your head bumping into their chin, their hands gently cupping your arms to keep you upright.

“You should seriously look up when ya walk.”

“Denji!” you cough, clearing the excitement from your tone, “Denji, what’re you…” you stop yourself, fretting over how rude he might think you suddenly are, “Hi.”

“Hi.”

“What are you doing out here?”

“Do you want to see a movie with me?” you open your mouth and Denji watches your lips part before interrupting you, “Don’t overthink it.”

Do you want to watch a movie with him? Yes.

Should you?

Don’t overthink it.

Does it matter? Honestly, what’s even waiting for you at home?

Why shouldn’t you watch a movie with Denji (especially when every nerve in your body is screaming at you to say yes)?

Denji ends up sneaking you two into an R-18-rated horror film. One with a single poster lit up in the theater lobby - blood dripping down a screaming woman’s face and the title in a gaudy, pure hot red. You’re the only ones in the theater, sitting in the middlemost seats Denji could scour. Your hand is bound in his on your shared armrest, warm flesh tangled in warm flesh.

And it’s the worst movie you’ve ever seen.

The main actress has the inflection of a primadonna teenager despite portraying a single mother lawyer, and halfway through you’ve seen more strip teases than blood. Not one of the characters is likable beyond being a slice of dead meat hooked on the end of the killer’s cleaver. You can’t even discern the plot of the movie other than some brick wall villain slashing down a woman and her coworkers.

You earnestly laugh as the woman runs upstairs in the creaky old cabin in the woods rather than out the wide open door. In the corner of your eye, you can see Denji looking at you. You return his stare, giggles still chittering through your teeth at the ridiculously forced story beats.

“Terrible, right?” he doesn’t bother whispering.

But you do, “Horrible,” his eyes flicker down to your lips again, “I love it.”

“Me too.”

It may be your favorite movie of all time.

“I missed you,” you admit, fully ashamed of backtracking a mere day after your decision to break up.

“I missed you, too, peachy,” his voice is unweathered by that shame.

“I don’t know…” you look down at your dark shoes, they fade into the swathing shadowing of the theater, “How can I know this is real? That I really do like you? That this isn’t just because I was told to?”

Away from Fourth East, above your small room in the basement, and throughout the barren offices of Public Safety, the shadow of Makima hangs heavy over everyone. You’re not certain when you started submitting to her, and you’re not sure when you started submitting to everyone she told you to, and you’re especially not sure when submitting to everyone felt comfortable. What you do know is that you are a useful tool for the public. You are a good instrument when devil hunters need assistance, for your technique and regeneration -- on missions and off them. And to keep Denji’s identity hidden, you are to be a sweet, giving, and kind shield.

But you hate all of that. You hate fighting and you hate everyone you work with. You miss movies. And you like Denji.

Is it some late-stage rebellion as the death of Makima truly settles in, or is this who you are?

“How should I know?” Denji mutters, kicking at the plastic back of the seat in front of him, “I don’t care about any of that. I don’t care about devil hunting or who controls who. I choose my life, and I choose to be your boyfriend. If I didn’t like you on our first date, I wouldn’t like you now.”

“What if I change?“

“You can’t change in a way I don’t like,” he frowns when you don’t smile at his declaration, “I just want you because you’re…” nice, weird, interesting, and if he pushes the right buttons you can be lively and loud, “you. I like you. You can’t change in a way I wouldn’t like unless you tried killing me.”

“I would never try to kill you.”

So does it matter if this was chosen for you?

You can like Denji and be with him, or you can like Denji and be away from him. You feel like the second option would be more miserable. So how does it matter, then, that dating Denji was chosen for you? Either way, you like him.

A lot.

You smile, and he copies it, “I like you, Denji. I want to be your girlfriend.”

On the big screen, a woman is being stabbed to death, but Denji eagerly closes towards you as if the projection is completely blank.

“I wanna be your boyfriend!”

A flashlight blinds the both of you suddenly, a stern male voice you briefly mistake for some impossibly higher calling following after, “How old are you two?”

“Eighteen!” Denji flips the man off, one eye cinched shut and the other squinted in a nasty glare, even as he answers honestly.

“Yeah, eighteen!” you copy, grabbing one of Denji’s hands with yours.

The man holds out his palm, flexing his fingers once. Denji scoffs but hands over his student ID with you taking example.

“Hayakawa, Denji… Yoshida, Reiji…”

Reiji. れいじ. It feels as unfamiliar as it sounds.

You almost open your mouth to protest - that’s not my name! before remembering that in the eyes of Fourth East High, it is. You don’t like it.

But you don’t like Rejection, either. You feel bigger than that. You are bigger than that. You like ginkgo trees even without the fall glow, you think mangoes are the best fruit, you like the smell of ashed cigarettes and dog fur, and you think the color orange is prettier than people give it credit for. You wait until the strange guard leaves before voicing,

“I want to change my name,” you continue to whisper although neither of you is paying any attention to the movie.

Denji sticks his legs out, resting them over the back of the seat in front of him, “What to?”

His volume startles you a little before realizing that it doesn’t matter how loud he is; the two of you are alone.

You raise your voice to a normal volume, “No clue yet, but I’m excited to find one…” you smile when Denji does, he tightens his hand in yours, “I wonder if I’ll find one unique or pretty.”

“If it's yours then it’ll be pretty anyway,” there’s a pause, you stare at him and he stares at you. You like how the projection reflects over his pale face, his eyes sparkling from the bright screen. Finally, he speaks again, “You’re really pretty.”

I think I actually love you.

“You’re pretty, too, Denji.”

I think I actually love you, too.

“You should leave Public Safety for real. We can get you real clothes. And you can stay with Meowy all the time when you’re not in school. Nobody will order you around ever again.”

“They’ll try dragging me back,” you doubt that they’d let a Devil -- even one that has no interest in being a Devil -- roam free in Japan on some fluid, lucrative “mission” of dating Denji.

“I’ll fight ‘em off,” he sounds so determined, “I’ll protect you.”

You look back at the movie, you wonder if you and Denji are the only ones to have seen it since it came out.

“Okay,” he brightens up at your agreement, “I’ll live with you. I’ll leave Public Safety.”

Denji lifts your linked hands from the shared armrest and pulls it up, shoving it into the gap between your back supports to yank you closer to his chest. He hooks his chin on the crown of your head and squashes you in a tight embrace like a child would their stuffed bear. He kisses your head, nose dug into your hair. He feels so excited he could burst out of his skin, and the only solution is to keep hugging you as unbearably annoying characters are slaughtered onscreen. To cram the both of you so tight together you’ll explode as one -- that’s the only way he can escape this whole-body buzzing.

Immediately after deciding to live together, Denji made the frightening choice that you should meet his sister. On the way back to his apartment, he’s internally scolding himself for not having introduced you sooner but pushes the nagging feeling away. After all, Nayuta wants what’s best for Denji just like Denji wants what’s best for Nayuta -- if she can feel the same coziness that Denji always does when he’s with you, then she’ll like you. He’s certain of it.

“I told her about you, so… She shouldn’t be weirded out when you meet anyway…” if not for the blush on his face, you could mistake him as being casual about this!

You, however, feel so nervous you’re hunched into your boyfriend’s side and fighting the urge to gag up your lunch.

“What if she hates me?!” you heave, a hand clawing at the unevenly tied ribbon around your neck. It’s somehow too tight and too loose. Simultaneously suffocating and unable to ground you.

“She won’t!”

He’s so sure, he foolishly doesn’t even prepare a backup plan for if she does hate you. Besides, revising house rules to adjust for your incoming presence went well enough -- so how could it not work out now?

By the time Denji’s managed to steer you up to his apartment’s door, your legs are overdone noodles. He knocks twice - brief pause - then three more times, and waits. A caucus of rowdy barks and animated paws on fake hardwood thrum behind the door before a faint click hauls your heartbeat to a stop. As soon as the lock is undone, the door’s hinges squeal open and a little black-haired girl with untrimmed bangs is poking her face through the gap.

Her eyes are electric yellow, burning straight through your skull, with crimson rings around her iris.

“This is her?”

“This is Her,” Denji nods sternly, certainly much more serious than you’ve seen him before.

Nayuta’s stare is just as intimidating as Makima’s was, despite the girl being a grade-schooler. You’re frozen stiff under her gaze, heart thundering so hard you’re absolutely positive that she can hear it even feet away.

Suddenly, she nods, “Okay.”

“Yeah?” Denji’s positively beaming.

“Yeah,” Nayuta shows off a peace sign, receiving one in turn from Denji, “She’s got a nice scent.”

She doesn’t say it, but she thinks you smell like sugary fruit punch and honey.

Terrified of sullying her (apparently positive?) impression of you, you squeak out a childish, “Thank you…?”

Nayuta slinks an arm through the door, careful not to let any of the yipping, jumpy dogs out, and takes hold of you to pull you inside, “Mhm.”

She hugs your arm through the door and into the common space.

That night, Nayuta almost makes you miss Public Safety curfew -- desperately trying to worm you into the cuddle pile of the dogs and Meowy and Denji that they sleep in. You almost feel compelled to break curfew and listen, and not from her own power. As a compromise, you promise to be back the next day and she demands you honor your word before letting Denji walk you to the train station.

After a bite-free kiss from Denji, you’re sitting on the train to the commission’s haunting office building. Alone and warm all at once.

And you have to agree with your boyfriend, Nayuta is nothing like Makima.

In late 1998, you met with Yoshida at your shoe cubby for the last time. A cold breeze of December’s premiere christens the moment.

“It took some help from a senior hunter, but I got your release papers signed,” Yoshida holds up the manilla file in question, “I’m supposed to hold onto them in case you do something they don’t like, but I have a lot of work on my plate already.”

As if you wouldn’t understand, he waves the file around Fourth East’s expansive entrance. Then, he holds the folder out to you, jerking it further when you don’t immediately grab for the thing.

“Are you- ?”

Yoshida cuts you off quickly, “It needs to be renewed every five years, and I’m sure you’re not stupid enough to think there’s no consequences of fucking up. So just live a normal life, okay? Don’t make me and Kishibe regret this.”

Kishibe?

“Kishibe?! Seriously?”

Yoshida shrugs off your question and heads for class, fully intent on dodging any of your future attempts at interrogation.

Fortunately for him, you don’t give chase; too busy giddily reading over the official statement of your release from Public Safety. The final plot to yours and Denji’s journey of moving in together since you’ve had your few possessions sent to his apartment (and due respect to whatever nurturing side Makima had, no matter how selfish in nature, because you genuinely forgot how plain your room could be with no old books or journals).

“Thank you!” you call after the boy, ignoring the odd stares from your peers and holding the folder to your chest as if it may disappear.

Inside on the very top line is a printed line for your taken name. 恣恩 -- Shion -- is slated over the last name spot, preceding the empty bank for your first name. A pen is tucked into the corner of the folder.

Looking up again, you find Yoshida nowhere in sight, but you still whisper after him with a gooey need to express your gratitude, “Thank you.”

“You got it?”

“Yep!” you can tell who’s behind you without needing to turn.

For a reason you cannot discern, that makes you proud of yourself. Knowing Denji so well you can pick his voice from a crowd. You like that. A lot.

Nayuta drearily slips into the tight kitchen space, rubbing crust from her eyes while watching you and Denji stare into a pan. You’re closer to the stove with Denji huddled just over your shoulder.

“Breakfast?” Nayuta meanders over, wrapping her arms around one of yours and burrowing into your side.

“Eggs,” you and Denji answer.

Then you tack on, “And toast.”

She nods sluggishly against your shoulder, lazily blinking as Denji holds the pan for you to scoop the fried egg with one hand. You hold the egg up while Denji scrambles for a plastic black plate with a piece of toast on it. Once the egg is settled onto the bread, Denji holds the plate out for Nayuta.

“You’ve still gotta get ready for school!” Denji calls after her as she moves to the living room.

When you hear no response, you poke your head out to look at the little black-haired girl, being sure to keep your voice gentle as you ask, “Did you hear Denji?”

Nayuta throws up a peace sign, chewing her egg on toast.

“She heard you.”

“Figures.”

Denji yawns and slings both arms around your shoulders just to rest his head against yours -- the motion itself is selfish and monopolizes your entire personal bubble. You return the embrace around his waist and press a kiss against his cheek: soft and warm and pink like peaches. He hums at the affection and squeezes you tighter.

I think I love you

I think I love you, too

Denji almost gathers the courage to say it, but instead settles for, “You skippin’ again, peachy?”

You nod against his cheek, “Think I’ll wash the dogs.”

He snorts, “Your attendance is shit.”

“Oh well…” you think you’ll drop out at this point -- Fourth East is a slough of swamp water unless you’re cutting class with Denji by the track field.

Denji kisses your forehead before leaving to finish putting on his own uniform, “Yeah, oh well.”

He’s certain he’s in love with you. You’re certain you love him back.

On nights when you and Denji aren’t sleeping in his room -- Nayuta has you all holed in hers. You learned quickly that Nayuta was possessive (you expected it, even), what you didn’t pick up on was that her possessiveness spread rapidly to you as well as Denji and the pets. If you and Denji make the mistake of not putting her to bed with enough soothing, she’ll slither her way between your arms.

Like tonight;

You and Denji are laid out first in a loose sweetheart’s cradle, Nayuta flopping onto the wide mat next. She rests perfectly in the middle with both of you throwing an arm around her. Tiramisu will jaunt up behind you while Custard takes Denji’s side, and Meowy will always find a way to settle her weight on your lap or hip. The remaining five dogs will circle your pre-established huddle for the most comfortable spot before sighing into the mattress as well.

Nayuta’s stray hairs tickle your cheek and Denji will carefully card the strands away. It’s a repetitive routine, but a comfortable one.

You had a routine in the basement, too. It was less comfortable.

Much less comfortable.

~~

@ghostlykeyes hopefully i got the depressed:pathetic ratio right!!

[blueparadis]

so lovesick.

[ notes ] :: this was supposed to be only for aki , a drabble but i got carried away. it's been a while i haven't written on them. | redirect to blog navigation!

[ characters ] :: aki hayakawa & yoshida hirofumi. | word count :: 1kish.

[ ! ] :: f!reader, making love, boyfriend headcanons but not really, fluff, domesticity, live-in, some n$fw headcanons + scenarios, fwb!relationship , mention of $moking & drinking.

꒰ AKI HAYAKAWA ⁠꒱

+. lovesick!aki always sits beside her during dinner just to hold her hand under the table or rest it on her thighs while leaning to grab the seasoning, even after innumerable failed attempts to occupy both her sides by Power and Denji.

+. lovesick!aki never forgets to take his girl out to dates during weekends in the name of “just a change of air” , or “exploring new cafés in town” just to see the smile on her face while having the same flavored desserts. He never gets tired of it while it boggles his mind why isn't she tired of that same damn flavor yet?

+. lovesick!aki just can not take his eyes off her whenever she is tying her hair up in a ponytail with the same rubber band that he managed to get back from power after rounds of stone-paper-scissors. It does not matter if she is within his hand's reach or not, he is still gonna press a soft peck on her nape.

+. lovesick!aki likes to watch movies with her, preferably at home, during Fridays when power and denji are asleep in other room while he is deep under the covers with his hands under her dress, his chin on her shoulder and her eyes occasionally glancing at him whenever he bucks his hips forward.

+. lovesick!aki manages, at least, two bubble bath sessions with his girl in a month. Amongst those dim lights and scented candles he thinks that she looks even more beautiful, more wild and responsive under his touches. He does not touch her much but the feeling of her skin against him makes him so dizzy that all he can think is to touch her. But he doesn't since he has to listen to her, talking about her day. His responses are a trail of hums: “mm-hm.”, “i see”, “is that so?” & just lits a cigarette thinking maybe he can, just, blow the smoke in her mouth when she's done talking.

+. lovesick!aki loves to hold y/n’s hands during sex, be it making out or or kissing her by having her up against the wall. Be it missionary or reverse cowgirl : he likes this sight of her pretty calloused fingers, painted nails interlaced with his rough ones. “Fuck, baby. . .”, he rasps as she bobs on him with his cock inside her,“ you’re getting ~mhnm— good at— at this.position.” He amends while clasping her hands at the valley of her waist as he enjoys the view of her back, riding him in reverse cowgirl.

꒰ YOSHIDA HIROFUMI ⁠꒱

+. lovesick!yoshida has y/n’s phone number saved with a different ringtone for calls and different messages tone from others so that every time she messages his heart lights up with joy even if he can't get back to her right away.

+. lovesick!yoshida never tells her about his rough days because he thinks he might be worrying too much for him, and might end up leaving him but can not really deny it when he hears her soft voice asking, “had a bad day? Wanna talk about it? It's okay. I'll just listen.”

+. lovesick!yoshida likes the idea of her waiting for him before any dates yet he is always early, always the one waiting for at least ten to fifteen minutes. She's not late, he is just early. That's all.

+. lovesick!yoshida loves to see her in little revealing clothes, especially when he is around because, with every blink of his eyes, he will look at her, mind wandering about tonight's sex and thinking of the last night so that he could see the art he did to her skin and do more.

+. lovesickyoshida never forgets the fact that y/n hates taking pills. So, there are always condoms laying at the bottom of his backpack but the thing is she rarely lets him do it and in all honesty, he likes other things — other things such as tying her hands to eat her out while jacking off, or the other way around. He is ready to explore whatever territory she will introduce to him.

+. lovesick!yoshida loves to take her from the back because it just feels so good to be inside her, feeling her body trembling at each thrust, twitching when he bites her ears, and moaning when he shoots his cum in spurs.

@tokyometronetwork @public-safety-network

[iloveparkjonggun]

You could feel his breath upon your neck as he planted steady kisses that sent shivers down to your spine, his large hands cupping on your asscheeks as he slammed your cunt down in his cock, hitting your spot that caused you to roll your teary eyes on the back of your head, as he pulled away from your neck which resulted in you whining at the lack of his addicting lips contacting on your skin, yet you still didn’t stop with your movements, even when you felt his hand giving you a harsh slap on your ass. ‘’Needy much?’’ He cooed, and the only response you gave him was nothing but a shy whimper despite your slutty actions. Of course you were fucking needy, or else you wouldn’t beg to him for his cock even when the two of you was in the middle of a ride, but it just seemed that you wanted to ride something else. Sure, he could’ve had you riding on his dick while he drove, he wouldn’t mind that. In fact, his perverted mind would utterly enjoy every single second of it, but you weren’t that confident, or more like, too shy in other words. That’s why he pulled the car aside in a random dark alley when you nicely asked him to, your moans and his low groans complimenting each other with the wet sounds whenever his dick slammed in your wet pussy over and over again. And now he gave you the control, comfortably lying on the car seat as he grinned at the sight of your tits bouncing every time you rolled your hips up and down, causing his dick to twitch inside you, as your walls clenched around his length unconsciously. You gritted your teeth, trying to hold back your moans even in the slightest, ashamed at the thought of someone catching the two of you like this. Him, on the other hand, would like that, would love it if all the other people knew how much of a filthy slut there was behind the shy innocent girl you were. With a whimper, you drop your head on his shoulder, an attempt to hide your blushy face while you kept creaming on his dick. He raised an eyebrow at your head burying on his shoulder, as you heard him chuckle which heated up your cheeks even more. ‘’You’re scared now? Scared that someone will find out how slutty you are for my cock? Aww.’’ He mocked, his hand trailing up to your naked back, stroking your back in circular motions, seductive enough to make you flinch slightly, as you squeezed around him once again, and when he noticed your moans becoming louder and your pace increasing, he grinned right at your face and extended his hand to your face, caressing your cheek as he warned. ‘’Be a good girl and don’t cum yet, ‘kay? don’t wanna mess up my car now, do you?’’ -Goo, Geto, Jean, Gojo, Gun, Muzan, Sukuna, Toji, Dabi, Yoshida and whoever else popped in your mind <3.

[poruvoron]

csm trail mix

yoshida,,,,,, *evaporates*

[domitorosan]

The fourth time on the top of Fuji!

This week I climbed to the top of Japan's highest mountain (3,776 m 🤯) using the 4th and final trail. Yeah, I already climbed via the Yoshida, Subashiri, Gotemba and Fujinomiya Trails. Not sure that many people can boast of such an achievement.

But it was my first time when I started climbing early in the morning and already descended in the evening. No rest in the hut. No sunrise. Only fog, rain, snow, huge crowds, beautiful scenery and a happy me 😼

I'll be very glad if you watch my new YouTube video of this unforgettable experience

[ueyyuey]

OUR LOVE STORY (KAISHIN)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Characters: Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid, Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan, Haibara Ai | Miyano Shiho, Agasa Hiroshi, Tsuburaya Mitsuhiko, Kojima Genta, Yoshida Ayumi

Additional Tags: there are other characters too, but only once twice i think, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Romance, First Meetings, Outing, Angry Kudou Shinichi I Edogawa Conan, Sick Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid, Christmas Party, Love Confessions, More Additional Tags in Author's Note

Words: 23670

Chapters: 7/7

Summary: A story about their lives after meeting each other at a public library. Many things had happened and they finally got together.

Hi @eas-kat ! Your secret santa is here skskskks I'm sooo sorry for being late but I really hope you enjoy the fic TwT I never thought it would take this long tbh sigh. Shout out to @bestillmyfastbeatingheart for being my beta huaaaa ToT Thanks to @dcmkkaishinevents for making this event too hehe VvV/

(Sneak peak for every chapter under the cut)

0 : Prologue

“YOU!!!! Why didn’t you stop–”

Trailing off, he finally took a proper look at Kudou-kun. Ginzou blinked and raised his eyebrow at Kudou-kun while the teen looked at him back with a bored look.

Some of his task force was surprised when they saw the Heisei Holmes in a blue dress and this night's target was on his neck. Others gave him pitying looks.

“What happened?”

Kudou-kun just shrugged like he was okay with whatever was happening right now.

“That jerk put these on me. Anyhow, can someone open the necklace for me and does anyone have spare clothes?”

1 : First Meeting

“No! He stared at us back then and took a long time to release you before. Then there’s how he suddenly wanted to join us and now he wants your number Shinichi-niichan!”

“What if he is a stalker?!"

“Or maybe a murderer?!”

When he heard this, Kaito wanted to deny them and wanted to defend himself. He opened his mouth but Shinichi suddenly scoffed.

“That’s stupid. He’s not a criminal. I’m sure of that.”

2 : Weekly Outings

Pouting, they looked away and nodded. Shinichi grinned at their response.

“Great! Now, let’s go play all the games here!”

Shinichi took Ayumi’s and Mitsuhiko’s hands before he walked away. Then, he looked behind his shoulder to see Genta and Kuroba tensing while looking at each other. Kuroba suddenly held out his hand for Genta to hold. Shinichi could see Genta hesitated for a moment, before he finally took Kuroba’s hand.

Smiling softly, Shinichi really hoped the three little kids would finally accept the magician at the end of the day.

3 : Angry Detective

“Caught you.”

“Stay away from them, you bastard!!!”

Hearing the familiar voice, the Detective Boys snapped their eyes open. They watched a fast soccer ball hit the man’s face and the man fell back.

“Guys! Are you alright?”

Kaito asked while the kids flinched at Shinichi’s glare.

4 : Sick Magician

“Sh-Shinichi! What are you doing here?”

Shinichi shrugged before answering.

“Keep you company.”

Shinichi then frowned at him. He whispered after that.

“You’ve eaten….”

Kaito wondered if he had heard that right because Shinichi had sounded a little bit disappointed. He then watched the detective sigh.

“Of course, you have. What did I expect? Aoko-san has said that she has cooked for you after all.”

5 : Christmas Party

“Tomorrow is going to be Christmas. So, do you want to spend it together with us? Me, Agasa-hakase and Shiho.”

Kaito blinked at the offer. He didn’t notice how long his brain had stopped, but next thing he knew, Shinichi was glaring at him. The warmth on his gloved hand was also gone.

“Oi! I’m asking you here. Or do you have other plans tomorrow?”

“N-No. I don’t. B-but is it okay? Won’t I bother all of you?"

Shinichi huffed at him and looked away with a redder face.

6 : Say 'Love'!

The detective’s shoulder slumped and it ached to see Shinichi like this.

“Shinichi-”

“It’s like he’s avoiding me, you know.”

Shinichi whispered suddenly and sensing the other wanted to continue, Shiho let him.

“It’s… I don’t know, but I can feel it. But, the question is why? Why does he suddenly do that? Why… why after giving me hope like that?”

[cinnamonpretzelboy]

I think an interesting chainsaw man au would be if after part 1 Denji basically just morphs into aki personality wise and becomes a like private devil to pay Nayuta a way into college, cus I mean Kobeni probably wasn’t exaggerating when she said that the only two options to pay someone into college without a college degree is sex work or devil hunting and I really don’t see Denji selling his body. On why Denji would be a private devil hunter and how he would operate, I imagine he would either try to honor aki and take up a kitana (Kishibe could prob teach him and Denji would probably find it funny if he could beat katana man at his own game). Either that or he just finds another axe and picks that back up. The reason he would probably use a weapon in the au is Yoshida being a dick and denji still wanting him being chainsaw man to be a big reveal

Frankly this next part is super self indulgent but fuck you this is my post,,, I think this version of denji being more of a dad to Nayuta than an older brother could be interesting and generally leaning more heavily into him having to grow up very quick, hell lately I’ve just been thinking that there is a way to read Nayutas birth as the result of denji and Makima having an act of love which makes the denji is nayutas dad thing more compelling to me past the “I loved your mother (previous incarnation) but I hate myself for continuing to love her after all that she did to the people I cared about”

Another super self indulgent thing in this au would be like denji wearing a promise ring around his neck or something as a way to consciously force himself to always have his contract (promise) with power in the back of his mind. The ring can be explained as something Kishibe got him because he doesn’t understand kids or something that belonged to aki or power that denji keeps close to him to remember them

Most of this au would basically just be set up for asa to trail denji to ask him out but see him drop his highschool facade (if he even would have anything left in the tank to put a facade up) and turn into this visibly fucking shattered teenager that makes her look like she completely has her shit together

Generally a version of denji that followed Kishibe’s footsteps more is just a really interesting concept to me

God this whole post is fuckinn stupid but I just like putting my thogght out there sometimes

[satgurutravelae]

Mt. Fuji: A Guide to Japan's Elusive Icon

Japan holiday packages from Dubai, UAE and Japan holiday packages from Dubai, UAE offer incredible opportunities to explore this enchanting country. From the bustling metropolis of Tokyo to the serene beauty of Mt. Fuji, Japan has something to offer everyone.

Understanding Mt. Fuji's Moods

While the best time to catch a glimpse of Mt. Fuji is during the colder months (November to February), even then, it's a gamble. Summertime often brings humidity and haze, making it difficult to see the mountain. However, the surrounding areas of Mt. Fuji are well worth exploring, regardless of the mountain's visibility.

The Best Spots to See Mt. Fuji

Lake Kawaguchi: This picturesque lake offers stunning views of Mt. Fuji, especially when the mountain is cooperative.

Mt. Fuji Panoramic Ropeway: For a bird's-eye view, take a ride on this ropeway.

Hakone: This scenic area offers breathtaking vistas of Mt. Fuji from Lake Ashi and the Hakone Ropeway.

Tokyo: On a clear day, you can spot Mt. Fuji from tall buildings like the Tokyo Skytree or the Metropolitan Government Building.

Day Trips from Tokyo

Kawaguchiko: Enjoy a day trip to this picturesque lake, exploring its shores, visiting the Kubota Itchiku Art Museum, or riding the Mt. Fuji Panoramic Ropeway.

Hakone: Discover the beauty of Hakone, taking a pirate ship cruise on Lake Ashi or exploring the Open-Air Museum.

Mt. Takao: For a shorter hike with potential Mt. Fuji views, consider visiting Mt. Takao.

Overnight Adventures

Kawaguchiko: Stay in a ryokan with a private onsen bath overlooking the lake.

Hakone: Enjoy a traditional ryokan experience with kaiseki meals and onsen baths.

Oshino Hakkai: Discover this charming village with spring-fed ponds and stunning views of Mt. Fuji.

Climbing Mt. Fuji

Climbing Season: The official climbing season for Mt. Fuji is from July to mid-September.

Trails: The Yoshida Trail is the most popular, but there are other options.

Preparation: Be prepared for the challenging climb with proper gear, including sturdy hiking boots, warm layers, and a headlamp.

Mountain Hut Stays: Consider staying in a mountain hut overnight for a unique experience.

Beyond the Mountain

Hakone Open-Air Museum: Explore this unique museum with world-class sculptures in a beautiful outdoor setting.

Kubota Itchiku Art Museum: Admire stunning kimono art at this museum near Lake Kawaguchi.

Kawaguchi-ko Music Forest: Enjoy a quirky experience at this museum and performance space with automated musical instruments.

Sake Tasting: Sample local sake at breweries like Ide Sake Brewery in Kawaguchiko.

Onsen: Relax in a hot spring with potential views of Mt. Fuji.

Conclusion

While Mt. Fuji may be elusive, the journey to see it is half the fun. Whether you're climbing its slopes, exploring the surrounding areas, or simply enjoying the scenery, Mt. Fuji offers a truly unforgettable experience. Remember, the beauty of travel lies not just in the destination, but in the journey itself.

[smilemuse]

Denji leans over to press a tentative kiss to Yoshida's cheek, the corner of his mouth, then a few insistent ones to his lips. He cups his cheeks to press a longing one then before pulling away, clearly a flushed mess even though he did it all himself.

UNPROMPTED ASKS / ALWAYS ACCEPTING

he'd been absentmindedly organizing a few things before he feels a kiss against his cheek before it trails to the other features of his face. ❛ oh? someone's feeling frisky. ❜ yoshida takes the time to stop what he's doing when denji captures his lips with ease. fingers take the time to tangle within denji's messy blonde locks. he knows where this will lead considering he will inevitably distracted, its not too important that he has to finish now. yoshida would rather study the flushed features of the blonde since he's the one initiating. his teeth take the moment to bite denji's bottom lip before it becomes nothing more than another moment to leave each other breathless. when denji breaks away he looks at the other & a smirk curls along his mouth. ❛ what are you doing ? come back here. ❜ he makes another quick motion as he reaches for denji's waist pulling him closer.

❛ you started it. ❜ he dives in for another kiss.

@getsusekaii

[sportsgr8]

Uno Refreshes Season Best In Figure Skating Short Program At Cup Of China

Figure Skating Series Cup: Reigning world champion Shoma Uno set a new season best score for the men's short program as the ISU Grand Prix of Figure Skating Series Cup of China got underway here.Skating to "Love You Kung Fu" and "Clair de Lune", the Japanese talent, who turns 26 years old next month, hit his trademark quad flip, a quad toe-triple toe combination, and a triple Axel, which was credited for "highlight distribution", to score 105.25 points. He also earned a level four for his spins and a level three for the footwork, reports Xinhua. The previous men's short program best score of the 2023-2024 season was held by US teenage sensation Ilia Malinin, who scored 104.06 points on October 20 at the season-opening Skate America. "I did a good job with the jumps today and the whole package," Uno commented at a post-competition press conference. "At this competition, I don't think about the result or the points, I just want to show my program," he added. European champion Adam Siao Him Fa came second to Uno's strong lead, trailing by 14 points. Kazakhstan's Mikhail Shaidorov stood third further 1.27 points back. Local favorite Jin Boyang, a two-time world bronze medalist, placed fourth with a personal season best of 87.44, beating Italian Gabriele Frangipani and Japanese Kazuki Tomono to the fifth and sixth respectively. Skate Canada champion Sota Yamamoto of Japan only ranked in eighth with errors on his jumps. The ISU senior's GP newcomers, Xu Juwen and Dai Dawei of China, sat on 10th and 11th with scores of 65.57 and 64.25 respectively. World bronze medalist Loena Hendrickx of Belgium led the women's short program with 70.65 points, despite an unsuccessful Axel. Japan's Rinka Watanabe and Hana Yoshida followed in second and third. Niina Petrokina of Estonia was close to the podium in fourth place at 62.58 points, while China's Chen Hongyi and An Xiangyi, another Chinese debutant to the senior figure skating, came fifth and sixth on 62.57 and 61.86 points. Skate Canada champions Deanna Stellato-Dudek and Maxime Deschamps of Canada and European silver medalists Rebecca Ghilardi and Filippo Ambrosini of Italy finished 1-2 in the pairs short program on 70.39 and 66.33, and China's three-time Olympian Peng Cheng and her new partner Wang Lei rounded out the podium with a score of 62.91. Skate America champions Annika Hocke/Robert Kunkel of Germany came fourth, while the other two Chinese pairs, Zhang Siyang/Yang Yongchao and Wang Yuchen Zhu Lei finished fifth and seventh on 58.71 and 49.95 respectively. In the ice dance event, Skate America silver medalists Majorie Lajoie and Zachary Lagha from Canada led the rankings temporarily after rhythm dance, claiming 82.02 points to edge two-time world bronze medalists and compatriots Piper Gilles and Paul Poirier to second place by just 0.98 points. American pair Caroline Green/Michael Parsons, the 2022 Four Continents champions, came out a distant third with 76.07 points. China's youngsters, Chen Xizi/Xing Jailing and Shi Shang/Wu Nan, finished the rhythm dance as the bottom two among nine pairs, after the Olympian pair Wang Shiyue and Liu Xinyu withdrew from the event due to Liu's injury. The Cup of China, the fourth of six events of the ISU Grand Prix Series in which the world's best figure skaters collect points towards the 2023-2024 GP Final in Beijing on December 7-10, continues here on Saturday with the free dance and free programs of men's, women's and pairs figure skates. Read the full article

[blueparadis]

AMONG GODS AND MONSTERS + YOSHIDA HIROGUMI.

───❪ content & tags ❫⋮ A ceratin kitsune!hybrid with some magical powers takes a drastic step when pushed to the brink of death. In this survival of game, Yoshida does not know if its okay to blur the line between good and evil, between gods and monsters to survive death. { kitsune-hybrid!Yoshida x human!fem!reader, possessive behavior, smut descriptions, some mixed references of myths, sacrilegious themes.} word count— 2.5k. 

───❪ notes ❫⋮This is a submission of my entry for spring collab hosted by @public-safety-network & also tagging @orchid3a cuz i lob u the most. My exams are postponed so i took the liberty to finish a collab entry so my any means this won't be my best performance but i can assure you since i wrote on Yoshida i wrote it with all my heart, soul and ( redacted ) so yeah, you can enjoy this and if you do, don't forget to reblog.

Snow is falling outside. The world is covered in white, the trees have stopped singing, and the birds that have ceased crinkling. There is a kitsune sitting under a tree where the snow has yet to lay claim, brown and soft. Not a single creature can be heard breathing yet there is a trail of footsteps towards the snow-clad mountains. The kitsune walks up towards the trail of footprints and sniffs it. It is of a human and that too, of a female. As much as his eyes permit, Yoshida can only conjecture that the trail leads to the highest mountain peak. There is nothing at the summit of the mountains, never was; except the abandoned temple. It is almost a quincentennial old. Gusts of wind swirl around him as he changes his form from a simple mountain kitsune into his true form— he almost looks like a human but he is not one. Being in his true form has many perks— he can not be seen by others while he can see everything, his locomotive powers increase, and the sense of hearing and smell and as such are all heightened. He is greater than humans but lower than the gods, an outcast; a borderline creature among gods and monsters.

He reaches the top of the mountain within a minute. He scans the place and sees nothing except the abandoned temple. It has rusted bars, broken bricks,outgrowth of plants along the pillars and no traces of any prayer. Whoever came to his home must have returned or got lost in their way while coming here or may have died. That’s right, the forsaken temple is where he lives. A lazy yawn escapes his mouth. His mouth remains open agape as his ears pick up noise— the sound of a heart beating. His ears perk up. There is more: a sob and ragged breathing. Has human heartbeat always been this loud or is it just the place that it’s quiet? 

Yoshida takes a few steps toward the temple to see the source of the sound and when his eyes lay upon the girl who is crying with her knees pressed against her chest sitting at the corner of the staircase of the temple he wonders, have humans always been this ravishing? The girl wore a red gown made of thick velvet with gold and silver embroidery, and all the jewelry from her head-to-toe was made of fresh flowers and plant twigs. Yoshida does not remember any diviner aroma more than this. His interaction with humans has always been scarce, filled with nothing but bad memories. So, he does know if it is okay to be intrigued by the same creatures that have appalled him for centuries. The kitsune-being studies her for a while as she keeps on crying. He could touch her head and come to know what is the reason that has this flawless mortal in her lowest spirits but that would call upon a great peril on himself. He would become visible to her and she would definitely think of him as some sort of god, which he is not. 

The girl finally tips up her head. Yoshida Hirofumi has been living here for centuries. He has seen so many colors of humanity. He is not a believer in God. He does not need to. He is powerful enough to live on by himself but if he had to believe in the power and the Almighty, he would definitely believe in you. He watches you turn a little in the direction of the altar which is filled with dry twigs, broken branches, withered flowers, and dust. Your palms come together, your head tips up, and shaky lips crack open. “Dear god, if you can hear me if you. . .really exist please save me from being killed. Dear god. . .” You did not get to finish your prayer because clouds started to gather, winds started to blow from all directions, and all the flambeaus in the village at the foot of the mountain died casting a shadow all over it. Without much second thought, you run in the direction of your home with bare feet down the hill while Yoshida stands with rage brimming in his veins, mind, and soul. How dare a mere mortal threaten his existence?

There is a story believed by the people for centuries in this village. People say that this village is cursed which is why winter is the longest in this place than others. The villagers always had a set of precautions to defend themselves from this frosty cruel climate. They always did until they did not. One time, at the dead of night a girl from one of the wealthiest families went missing. A few days later, her body was discovered by the side of a river. She was decorated from head to toe, in bridal attire, and had blood stains on her inner garments near her crotch. While the priest rejoiced announcing how her death brought early spring in this village, the physician declared she died by breaking her neck after losing her virginity. 

None knew this was a murder. None knew except a kitsune that witnessed a naive girl falling for a man, trying to run from her fate and hence falling prey to the very hands of her fate. That is what he believes in, fate. A track, so strong that none can defy it. Yoshida has been surviving for centuries among humans, by not playing god. He roomed within the deserted temple for a reason. No mortals would ever come to pray at an old temple. No human can ever be such a big fool to pray where the gods do not live. But tonight, Yoshida heard a prayer amidst the altar. It is not a small thing that can be brushed under the rug like dust. If he fails to fulfill the prayer he will cease to exist. He has been labeled with a lifespan now, that is until you die. He has time which is not much now that he is tied to you. To be bound to a mortal by death seems a little too much as punishment for being an outcast among the gods. He can not accomplish that wish of yours. He is not a god. He understands God. God has a choice whether to save your life or his. He is deprived of such luxury. Now, he has to play god otherwise he would die.

When something bad happens to you, you start to believe in superstitions. And, when something bad keeps happening to you, you start to pray. Your current situation was the latter, at the mercy of the gods begging for your life. From the early days of childhood, at least when you were old enough to understand the difference between good and evil, you had no faith in god. You did not believe in gods but perhaps the gods really exist otherwise when the last ice queen was sacrificed to the winter lord, that is, to the god of winter; spring blessed the village within a week. At the blooming age of adolescence you were declared as the sacrifice for the next “ice-queen” With such a hefty title along with your name, you knew you had no choice of running away. If you had fled, your sister or your friends would have been sacrificed in your place which did not seem fair to you. Sure, their turns would come when it's time but who are you to push them to their death by avoiding yours? Isn't it the deeds of god? Or perhaps a Shinigami? The weather on the day of your sacrifice was extremely dangerous. It forbade all the villagers to stay outdoors and all tourists to reschedule their visit for the holy union of the ice-queen and winter-lord. Perhaps the god was angry at you for running away. He must be otherwise, why would the winter turn so brutal? Somehow it did not make sense to you. Why would a god suddenly be angry when he has been worshipped for aeons? You look through the crack of the window, tears streaming down your face feeling betrayed by everyone, by your mother, your father, and your sister who had kept you in a locked room so that you do not try to flee again. You open the window letting the cold bite your skin. And there, you see the temple high on mountains and a shadow lurking among the pillars. Perhaps, god did exist after all.

At Fortnite, when you visit the temple in the high of the mountains Yoshida feels unearthly. Seeing you alive and well, even if the night of sacrifice has passed he feels that he is being reborn. Your eyes are not puffy anymore, and neither do you have a runny nose like the day he first saw you. You are breathing tenderly and your heartbeat seems soft and stable. He does not understand why you are here. The winter still persists. The snow is still knee-deep but Yoshida does not understand why the villagers had kept you alive. You should be dead stripping him naked from all his godlike powers turning him into a mere mountain fox. Of course, you crossed his mind on the day of sacrifice when he was supposed to lose all his powers but he did not. He did not think of this any further taking upon the fact that he might be reading wrong for all of these. Perhaps, your prayer did not reach him in the right place and time. But all his clouds of confusion passed away when you prayed again. You notice a kitsune snuggling up to your feet as you pray. It is the same kitsune you have seen sleeping at the foot of the mountain, under the tree on a cold evening when you first came here. 

“Dear God. I believe in you.” You keep two baskets at the door of the altar stacked with various fruits and foods. They were offerings for you on the first day of your sacrifice. Throughout time, this sacrifice ritual has turned into quite an attractive yearly occurrence. It lasted seven days with all sorts of preparation for a bride and has turned into a major tourist attraction dragging people from other villages, celebrating it as a festive event, and sometimes participating in them. You go on your knees and bow down your head. Rising up you utter with a sweet hopeful voice. “You are my God.” Yoshida notices your lip curl in delight and for a moment he thinks he could touch you, feel you, to have you but then he remembers you are a gift for God, a thing that must not be tainted. A short-lived chuckle escapes his mouth as he sees you going on your knees as you whisper, “I hope to see you soon, my God.” 

Yoshida decides to play God for tonight. Tonight is the time when you will be killed, a gift to god. He does not know how he is going to save you but he must otherwise he will die. He is sure of it. He is now lurking in his kitsune form amidst the crowd while you are high on the stage seated in the most graceful manner staring at the poisoned cup of syrup that you are supposed to drink. The ritual is supposed to start by any minute now. The mass that has gathered in front of you will be on their knees and hands closed for prayers. When they will chant the mantras for the god of winter; when the hymns and instruments will be in perpetual cacophony to summon the god you will drink the syrup and sacrifice yourself to the god of winter to welcome spring. 

You see the mass going on their knees while your heart drops at the pit of your stomach. You close your eyes as you hear the name of winter-lord rising in unison in the voices of all those people you have lived half a life with and then, when you open your eyes with your vision blurred you witness a miracle. The fox who has been following you around since you were a child transformed into a human, but bigger. His hands rose along his ears and the moment it dropped there was nothing but absolute darkness. You were already sedated a little so that you could not run away but you could feel a hand scooping you into the air. You could see the whole village engulfed in darkness from atop the sky until your eyelids were heavy and you plunged into slumber.

When you woke up, you were pressed against the chest of a man, your hands resisted between the two hearts while his arms were embracing you lying on a soft quilt. To think that you have witnessed a fox spirit is beyond any tale you have ever heard in the village.  You stare at him in awe digesting the fact that how humane he looks. No one can tell that he is not human. “Are you awake, love?”  Even with such chilling winds you do not feel cold, rather the opposite.

His voice echoes. It feels divine as you give him a nod. You remember how one must always stay away from a fox spirit, for it can only devour you by deceiving you, that is how they survive. The dawn is almost breaking. You can now see, what seems to be the statue of the God of Winter, more precisely the Winter lord as you arch on your back feeling him roll over you. “I’ve waited for you so long, my God,” you whisper knowing it is useless to resist and why would you? You have been saved. Prophets would say you have been re-born, that you are one of a kind, that you are an angel sent from heaven, that you are the blessing that would free the other girls from the same fate, that you are almost God.

Yoshida certainly does not understand God but being your savior and mating with you amongst the altar of the very temple that has been worshipped by mortals for aeons sure gives him the thrill of being a God. And he thinks he can be. He can play god for a while, just for you. He dips his head in the crook of your neck starting to pepper kisses and trailing them up to your lower belly. He looks at the eyes of the statue before diving in between your legs. A gust of wind closes the door of the altar as he claims you as his own in front of the Gods. He eats you out until he hears a series of ludicrous moans from you. Your hands clutch his arms as he positions himself in front of your entrance ready to make you one of his kind by mating with you. While all the villagers are still sleeping at the foot of the mountain, a certain fox spirit is ready to show you a new world to you by playing god.

[travelluxegroup]

Explore the Serenity of Mount Fuji

Journey to the Iconic Peak Preparing for the Climb Mount Fuji is a popular destination for both nature enthusiasts and those seeking a challenge. If you plan on climbing to its iconic peak, it is important to prepare beforehand. You should start by researching the best time to climb, as the weather can be unpredictable. It is also essential to pack appropriately for the journey. Make sure to wear comfortable, durable clothing and hiking boots. Don't forget to bring plenty of water, snacks, and a first aid kit. Climbing the Mountain The journey to the peak of Mount Fuji can take anywhere from six to twelve hours depending on your pace and the trail you take. The most popular trail is the Yoshida Trail, which is well maintained and has plenty of rest stations along the way. As you climb higher, the scenery becomes more beautiful, and you will have a chance to enjoy stunning views of the surrounding landscapes. Reaching the Summit The moment you reach the summit of Mount Fuji is unforgettable. At an elevation of 12,388 feet, the views from the peak are breathtaking. You will be rewarded with a panoramic view of the landscape, including other mountains and the sunrise. It is important to note that the temperature can drop significantly at the top, even on a warm day, so make sure to bring warm clothing or rent some from a rental shop at the base of the mountain. In conclusion, climbing Mount Fuji is a bucket list item for many people. To ensure a successful journey to the peak, planning and preparation are essential. With proper gear and a good attitude, you can conquer this iconic mountain and make unforgettable memories along the way. Capturing the Best Views of Mount Fuji If you're planning to go on a photo tour to Mount Fuji, you'll want to make sure you capture the best views of this majestic mountain. Here are some tips to help you get the most breathtaking shots: 1. Choose the Right Time The best time to capture the beauty of Mount Fuji is during the early morning or late evening hours when the light is softer and warmer. You can get some stunning shots during these golden hours! Make sure to check the weather forecast before heading out to avoid any potential disappointments due to bad weather. 2. Find the Right Location The location you choose to capture Mount Fuji can make all the difference in your photos. Some of the best spots include the Chureito Pagoda, the Arakurayama Sengen Park, and the Lake Kawaguchi area. Research your options ahead of time and choose the locations that you think will give you the best views. 3. Use the Right Lens and Settings When capturing Mount Fuji, it's essential to use the right lenses and camera settings. A wide-angle lens will allow you to capture more of the mountain and its surroundings, while a telephoto lens can help you capture stunning details. Make sure you adjust your aperture, shutter speed, and ISO settings according to the lighting and the effect you want to achieve. 4. Experiment with Different Angles and Perspectives Don't be afraid to get creative and experiment with different angles and perspectives! Try different compositions, shoot from different heights, and use foreground objects to add depth and interest to your photos. 5. Be Patient and Take Your Time Patience is key when capturing the best views of Mount Fuji. You may need to wait for the right moment, the right light, or the right weather conditions. Take your time, be prepared to wait, and remember that it's worth it to get your perfect shot. With these tips in mind, you're ready to capture the best views of Mount Fuji and create stunning photos that will last a lifetime! Experiencing the Tranquility of Fujikawaguchiko The town of Fujikawaguchiko is located at the northern base of Mount Fuji and is the perfect place to experience the tranquility that surrounds this magnificent mountain. It is one of the five lakes in the area and one of the most popular tourist destinations in the region. Fujikawaguchiko offers stunning views of Mount Fuji and the surrounding areas, as well as a wide range of outdoor activities, hot springs, and other attractions for visitors to enjoy. Exploring the Lakeside One of the best ways to experience the tranquility of Fujikawaguchiko is to take a leisurely stroll or bike ride around the lakeside. The calm waters of Lake Kawaguchi offer a serene backdrop to the stunning mountain scenery and are a great place to relax and take in the beauty of the area. Visitors can also rent paddle boats, kayaks or canoes to explore the lake on their own. Admiring the Chureito Pagoda Another must-visit attraction in Fujikawaguchiko is the Chureito Pagoda, located at the top of a hill overlooking the town. The pagoda provides an excellent vantage point to admire the beauty of Mount Fuji and the surrounding areas. Visitors can climb a series of stairs to reach the pagoda and enjoy the stunning views from the top. Soaking in a Hot Spring Fujikawaguchiko is also known for its many hot springs, which provide the perfect opportunity to relax and unwind in the midst of the beautiful natural surroundings. Many of the hot springs in the area offer stunning views of Mount Fuji and are open to both day visitors and overnight guests. Enjoying Local Cuisine The town of Fujikawaguchiko is also a great place to experience the local cuisine, which is a delicious mix of traditional Japanese dishes and local specialties. Visitors can enjoy everything from sushi and tempura to soba noodles and udon soup. One popular local specialty is houtou, a type of noodle soup made with vegetables and a miso-based broth. Overall, Fujikawaguchiko is a must-visit destination for anyone looking to experience the tranquility and beauty of Mount Fuji and the surrounding areas. Whether you are interested in outdoor activities, hot springs, or simply enjoying the stunning natural scenery, this town has something for everyone to enjoy. Immersing in Japanese Culture: Visiting the Chureito Pagoda If you're looking to immerse yourself in Japanese culture, a visit to the Chureito Pagoda is a must. Located on the outskirts of Fujiyoshida City, this iconic pagoda sits atop a hill overlooking the beautiful Mount Fuji. The History of Chureito Pagoda The Chureito Pagoda was built in 1963 as a memorial for all the soldiers who died in World War II. It belongs to the Arakura Sengen Shrine, which has been established since the 8th century. The pagoda is a five-storied structure that stands at 13.5 meters tall. It is worth noting that visitors need to climb 398 steps before reaching the pagoda, which can be challenging for some, but it's definitely worth the effort once you see the stunning view from the top. The Best Time to Visit One of the best times to visit the Chureito Pagoda is during the cherry blossom season, usually around late March to early April. The cherry blossoms surrounding the pagoda create a stunning view that's famous all over Japan and the world. Another great time to visit is during autumn, around October and November, when the changing colors of the leaves make for a breathtaking view. Tips for Visiting Be sure to dress appropriately and wear comfortable shoes as you will be climbing the stairs. If it's your first time visiting the area, consider hiring a professional guide to learn more about the history and cultural significance of the pagoda and Mount Fuji. Additionally, there are several shops and restaurants near the base of the pagoda where visitors can purchase souvenirs and enjoy traditional Japanese food. In conclusion, visiting the Chureito Pagoda is an unforgettable experience that should not be missed. Take the time to immerse yourself in Japanese culture and appreciate the stunning natural beauty of the area. Admiring the Cherry Blossoms at Arakurayama Sengen Park When most people think of Japan, they think of the iconic cherry blossom trees. These delicate pink flowers are a symbol of the country and its culture, and there are few places better to see them in all their glory than at Arakurayama Sengen Park. What is Arakurayama Sengen Park? Arakurayama Sengen Park is a public park located in Fujiyoshida, Yamanashi, Japan. The park is located at the base of Mt. Arakura and is home to a variety of attractions including pagodas, shrines, and hiking trails. The park is also known for its stunning views of Mount Fuji, making it a popular destination for tourists and locals alike. When is the Best Time to Visit? The best time to visit Arakurayama Sengen Park is during the sakura (cherry blossom) season, which typically occurs in late March to early April. During this time, the park is filled with beautiful cherry blossom trees in full bloom, creating a stunning pink canopy overhead. What to Do While You're There Aside from admiring the cherry blossoms, there are plenty of other things to see and do at Arakurayama Sengen Park. Here are a few suggestions: - Visit the Chureito Pagoda - This five-story pagoda is located at the top of a steep hill and offers stunning views of both Mount Fuji and the surrounding cherry blossom trees. - Explore the Shrines - The park is home to a variety of shrines, including the Arakura Fuji Sengen Shrine, which is said to have been built in the 9th century. - Hike the Trails - The park has several hiking trails that lead up the mountain and offer even more stunning views of the area. - Enjoy a Picnic - There are plenty of spots throughout the park where you can sit and enjoy a picnic lunch or snack while surrounded by the cherry blossom trees. Things to Keep in Mind If you're planning on visiting Arakurayama Sengen Park during the cherry blossom season, there are a few things to keep in mind: - It can get crowded, especially on weekends, so try to visit on a weekday if possible - Bring a camera - the views are truly stunning and you'll want to capture them for yourself - Wear comfortable shoes - there are plenty of hills and stairs throughout the park, so wearing comfortable shoes is a must Overall, a visit to Arakurayama Sengen Park during cherry blossom season is a must-do for anyone visiting the Fujiyoshida area. Whether you're a nature lover, a photography enthusiast, or simply looking to experience some of Japan's most iconic cultural attractions, this park has something for everyone. Discovering the Natural Wonders of Lake Kawaguchi One of the most stunning natural wonders in the region surrounding Mount Fuji is Lake Kawaguchi. This idyllic lake is one of the five lakes that surround the base of Mount Fuji. The lake is surrounded by picturesque landscapes, including the iconic Fujisan World Heritage Center and the Kawaguchiko Music Forest. The Fujisan World Heritage Center The Fujisan World Heritage Center is a fascinating attraction that provides detailed information about Mount Fuji and its significance as a cultural and natural heritage site. The center is located on the northern shore of Lake Kawaguchi and features exhibitions that showcase the history, culture, and ecology of Mount Fuji. The facility includes a viewing platform that offers stunning views of the lake and the surrounding landscape. The Kawaguchiko Music Forest The Kawaguchiko Music Forest is another charming attraction that should not be missed. The facility is located near Lake Kawaguchi and features a variety of musical instruments and performances from around the world. Visitors can enjoy performances by musicians from various countries, including the United States, Italy, and South Korea. The facility also has a beautiful garden that is home to over 1000 kinds of plants and flowers. The Kachi Kachi Ropeway The Kachi Kachi Ropeway is a scenic cable car that takes visitors to the top of Mount Tenjo. The ride offers breathtaking views of Lake Kawaguchi and the surrounding mountains. The journey takes around 3 minutes and is an excellent way to experience the stunning natural beauty of the region. Once at the top, visitors can enjoy hiking trails, restaurants, and souvenir shops. Enjoy the Serenity of Lake Kawaguchi Lake Kawaguchi provides an excellent opportunity to relax and unwind in nature. Visitors can enjoy a variety of activities, including boating, fishing, and hiking. The lake is also known for its stunning sunsets and is a popular spot for photographers. Taking some time to enjoy the serenity of Lake Kawaguchi is an absolute must-do activity during your visit to the region. Savoring Local Delights: Food and Drink Recommendations Japan is known for its unique cuisine, and the region around Mount Fuji is no exception. Here are some must-try food and drink recommendations to savor during your premium photo tour: Soba Noodles Soba noodles are a regional specialty in the Mount Fuji area and are made from buckwheat flour. They can be served hot or cold and are often topped with local vegetables and meat. Visitors can also enjoy dipping the noodles in a flavorful broth. Be sure to try the homemade soba noodles at one of the local restaurants for an authentic taste of the region. Hoto Noodles Hoto noodles are a hearty, thick noodle dish that is typically served in a hot pot. The dish originated in the Yamanashi prefecture and is made with vegetables, miso, and wheat noodles. Hoto noodles are perfect for cool autumn or winter days, and visitors can enjoy this dish at a local restaurant or purchase it as a souvenir to take home. Fujiyama Beer Located in Fujinomiya, the Fujizakura Heights Brewery offers a wide range of craft beer options with unique flavors like wasabi and cherry blossom. Their flagship beer, the Fujiyama Beer, is inspired by Mount Fuji and is brewed using natural spring water from the mountain. Visitors can take a tour of the brewery and enjoy a pint in their restaurant while taking in the stunning views of Mount Fuji. Sake Sake is a popular Japanese rice wine that is often enjoyed with meals. The Yamanashi prefecture is known for producing high-quality sake, with many local breweries offering tasting tours. Visitors can sample different sake varieties and learn about the fermentation process while enjoying the scenic surroundings of the Mount Fuji region. These are just a few of the delicious food and drink recommendations for visitors to the Mount Fuji area. Don't miss the opportunity to savor the local delights and experience the unique flavors of this beautiful region. If you're interested in capturing the essence of Chinese royalty through photography, consider attending the 5-Star Photography Retreat to Beijing's Forbidden City. Read the full article

[optimistredsox]

April 2, BAL @ BOS, 5-9, Win

Hey folks, the Red Sox led the game from the outset and even though the Orioles tied it up at one point, the Red Sox were never trailing! How cool is that?!  

I think it’s very cool. However, it wasn’t a game without worry, in spite of the convincing score. Causes for concern come from never quite feeling ‘safe’ in the lead (the Orioles offence can be pretty pokey) with Houck’s sudden change from dominance to shaky and Bleier going from a confident K to giving up two runs. Because everything is so fresh there’s that terrifying unpredictability of games. We proved last night that we can come back from losing. But until today, we hadn’t proved that we can hold a lead. But we held one! So let’s look at the bright sides

Tanner Houck looked great through 4. He was in for five, which was a bit of an issue at the end, but those four were pretty great. He struck out 5 and walked one. That is better than doing the opposite of that and he, at the moment, has put in the best performance of any starting pitcher on the Red Sox (small sample size warning to be placed here).

Yoshida had a bit of a day going 2-for-4 and scoring three times. He knocked in two runs as well. He’s doing stuff. I mean, he even stole a base! I like that.

Adam Duvall continues to do stuff as well, because apparently being a hero yesterday wasn’t enough. He got three hits, scored twice and knocked in two as well. 

Dugie got a couple of hits. 

Raffy got a couple of hits.

Kiké hit another home run. 

Martin and Ort kept the Orioles off the board for the 8th and 9th. I hold my breath when Ort pitches, but was able to breathe easy afterwards. 

It looked like a very beautiful day at Fenway. 

The Red Sox won their first series! Hopefully they’ll win their second. 

The Red Sox scored 9 runs in their first three games and managed win two of them! Speaks better for their hitters than their pitchers but I’ll take it.

[asoulofatlantis]

enforcers are meant to correspond to the tarot cards this makes me wonder what would it be like in a persona series crossover where they interact with the people from persona series who match their respective tarot card like bleublanc with naoto ( detective prince) and chihaya mifune , mcburn with morgana and Yosuke Hanamura like the joker, narukami and the p3 protag and akechi with campanella for the fool tarot card , or Ann and rise and yukari with the lovers tarot card interacting with Luciola, shirley with mamoru hayase, akihiko sanada (p3 portable) , teddie, hifumi togo for the star tarot card , cedric and the persona series Akinari Kamiki Yumi Ozawa Ayane Matsunaga , Toranosuke Yoshida (p5) for the sun tarot card,

fuuka yamagishi , yukiko amagi, makoto nijima from persona series with leonhardt for the high priestess tarot card

Lucrezia Isselee with Mitsuru Kirijo Persona 3 Margaret Persona 4 Haru Okumura for the empress tarot card

sayoko uehara, ichiko ohya with renne for the devil tarot

I really don't feel like that it is important what kind of tarot cards they correspond to. Because... what would you expect from someone like McBurn meeting someone like Morgana? They have not much in common, aside from the fact that there is more to them than meets the eye, but their characters aren't really alike at all. I can't see Campanella and Akechi getting along that well either.

In all honesty - and I think I said it before - I find it really hard at times when I read the descriptions of the tarot cards to feel like they really fit the characters much. You have to look really deep to find the connections, if you find any at all. And I think at the end, the tarot cards don't really describe the characters, but are more likely to give a hint to their destiny. Especially since, if you look at the Persona games, the three girls carrying the lovers-persona are not much alike at all and I would not compare them in the slightest with Luciola. So I have no Idea what it would be like for them to meet. I actually think people like Shirley would give a damn about corresponding to the same taro card or having the same destiny or something.

I don't think the two different ways Persona-Games and Trails-Games go fit with each other anyway. And as I said, I am not a big fan of Crossovers.

[trafficdrita]

Moca test scoring interpretation

MOCA TEST SCORING INTERPRETATION FULL

MOCA TEST SCORING INTERPRETATION PROFESSIONAL

Clinical validation of the oral trail making test. Trail making test A improves performance characteristics of the international HIV-dementia scale to identify symptomatic HAND. doi:10.1093/ageing/aft073Ĭhalermchai T, Valcour V, Sithinamsuwan P. doi:10.1016/j.acn.2007.11.005ĭobbs BM, Shergill SS, How effective is the trail making test (parts A and B) in identifying cognitively impaired drivers? Age Ageing.

MOCA TEST SCORING INTERPRETATION PROFESSIONAL

The health care professional will consider this result when. If your loved one has a score between 10 and 20 points on the MMSE, he or she may have moderate dementia. Trail making test errors in normal aging, mild cognitive impairment, and dementia. The scores are generally grouped as follows: 25-30 points: normal cognition. Jefferson AL, O'Connor MK, Chaisson C, Green RC, Stern RA. Arch Clin Neuropsychol. 2013 Mar 28(2):189-98. doi:10.1093/arclin/acs115Īshendorf L. Scoring: Allocate one point if the subject successfully draws the following pattern: 1 A- 2- B- 3- C- 4- D- 5- E, without drawing any lines that cross. Trail Making Test: regression-based norms for the Portuguese population. In the initial study data establishing the MoCA, normal controls had an. Scores on the MoCA range from zero to 30, with a score of 26 and higher generally considered normal. Animal naming: Three pictures of animals are shown and the individual is asked to name. What is dementia? Symptoms, types, and diagnosis.Ĭavaco S, Goncalves A, Pinto C, et al. Proverb interpretation test is another way to test abstract reasoning skills. Epub 2014 Nov 11.Llinàs-Reglà J., Vilalta-Franch J, López-Pousa S, Calvó-Perxas L, Torrents Rodas D, Garre-Olmo J. Assessment (MoCA) score is 17 out of 30 with 0 out of 5 delayed recall, an intact cube draw. Health Informatics J. 2016 Jun 22(2):304-11. cognitive test findings are interpreted in clinical. doi: 10.1089/tmj.2019.0134.Ī feasibility study of conducting the Montreal Cognitive Assessment remotely in individuals with movement disordersĪ Abdolahi, MT Bull, KC Darwin… – Health informatics …, 2016 – Iiboshi K, Yoshida K, Yamaoka Y, Eguchi Y, Sato D, Kishimoto M, Funaki K, Mimura M, Kishimoto T. 2019 Dec 9:1357633X19890788.Ī Validation Study of the Remotely Administered Montreal Cognitive Assessment Tool in the Elderly Japanese Population. Here are some references validating the remote administration of the MoCA :Ĭomparing face-to-face and videoconference completion of the Montreal Cognitive Assessment (MoCA) in community-based survivors of stroke.Ĭhapman JE, Cadilhac DA, Gardner B, Ponsford J, Bhalla R, Stolwyk RJ. The composite score ranges from 0 to 30.We consider a score of 27 as. This test makes assessment of 7 cognitive functions, namely: visuo-spatial naming memory attention language abstraction and orientation and allocates individual scores.

MOCA TEST SCORING INTERPRETATION FULL

On that page, select the version (MoCa Audiovisual) and language (MoCA Test Full – Telemed instructions), then choose one of the options listed below, then click on Download Test. As a part of standard protocol, we administered MoCA to all patients at the intake visit. norms are available for the MoCA total score and delayed recall of the. While I'm sure MOCA scores vary depending on time-of-day, skill of the tester, mood of the testee, etc., the rapid 8-point decrease seems pretty significant to me. The Polish version of the MoCA test performed marginally better than MMSE in. To download the modified instructions and audiovisual stimuli files, please log in to your account, click MoCA TEST, choose PAPER. Your mom's 4-week decline in MOCA score from 23 to 15 makes me wonder if she has been tested for a urinary tract infection (UTI). Test and Instructions are now available on the website as well as the initial validation results comparing the 5 min version to the full version.įull version can be administered via Skype, FaceTime, or Teleconference, or any locally approved platform. You can download the Blind version of the MoCA from our website and administer it over the phone. MoCA without the visual elements, scored out of 22. Here are a few options that have been validated to use for remote testing:

[emiii-chan]

Hiking Mt Fuji to see the sunrise! → Japan trip Summer 2017 Part 2