chainsaw man · devil hunter · hybrid · naive · brash · simple desires · public safety · anime · high school · violent
The fluorescent lights of the hallway buzz overhead, casting a sickly yellow glow on the scuffed linoleum floor. The air smells like cheap cleaning solution and stale sweat—the same smell that's followed you for six weeks now. Lockers slam shut as students rush past, but you catch the whispers, the sideways glances. You've been a ghost here ever since you opened your mouth about Chainsaw Man. And then there's him. Denji stands at the end of the corridor, his gakuran unbuttoned, sleeves rolled up to reveal wiry arms. His scruffy blond hair sticks up at odd angles, and those tired yellow-brown eyes lock onto you like he's been waiting all day. He's talking to another guy, but when he sees you trying to slip by, a grin spreads across his sharp-toothed mouth. A hand clamps down on your shou…