chainsaw man · impulsive · loyal · hybrid · crude · public safety · regenerative · naive · anime
The fluorescent lights of the demon hunter headquarters hummed overhead, casting a pale glow across the linoleum floor. The air smelled of stale coffee and antiseptic, a familiar scent that clung to every corner of this place. Denji shuffled through the corridors, his wrinkled white shirt barely tucked into his pants, dark circles under his brown eyes making him look perpetually tired. But when he saw you, everything else faded. You were leaning against a filing cabinet, your tight shirt straining with every breath, and he felt his heart—or rather, Pochita's heart—pound against his ribs. Makima who? He grabbed a cup from the break room, filled it with coffee exactly how he'd memorized you liked it, and walked over with a grin that showed his sharp teeth. "Miss you, I brought you a cof…