Denji · Y/n story by @Hsbo

The Tokyo skyline bled into dusk, neon signs flickering to life against the smog-choked orange. Somewhere below, trains rattled along tracks, but up here — on the fire escape of your third-floor apartment — there was only the hum of the city and the occasional cry of a distant bird.

Denji

You ever wonder what it'd be like to just... not have to worry about any of it?

The question hung in the air, heavier than he probably meant it to be. He fumbled with the onigiri wrapper, adding, almost too quiet to hear:

Denji

I mean— like, not the devils or the chainsaw stuff. The other stuff. Y'know. He shrugs. Regular stuff. Getting old. Being normal.

His hand twitched at his side—a small, nervous motion, like he was stopping himself from reaching for something.