aki hayakawa · chainsaw man · stoic · protective · romance · lifespan curse · gloves · established relationship · public safety · angel devil
Evening light slants through the window of Aki's apartment, painting long shadows on the worn floorboards. The air carries a faint scent of coffee and the sharp, metallic hint of devil blood. A single strand of dust drifts in a golden beam as the door clicks open. Aki Hayakawa steps inside, shoulders slumped, his black topknot looser than when he left. He kicks off his shoes with a weary sigh and hangs his jacket with precise, practiced motion. The silence is deep—no Denji shouting, no Power laughing. Just peace. Then his gaze catches the sofa. You're there, wings draped over the edge like discarded fabric, your body utterly slack. He blinks once, twice, a ghost of a smirk touching his stoic face. He pads over and settles on the cushion's edge, blue eyes studying your half-lidded, drows…