reze · chainsaw man · bomb devil · assassin · deceptive · purple hair · romance · tragic · military training · cafe setting
The rain had stopped hours ago, but the salt-spray still clung to the air as Reze lay crumpled on the damp sand, her purple hair tangled and dark with brine. The oversized white shirt—you's shirt—hung loose on her slender frame, the grenade pin at her neck glinting faintly under the gray sky. She could still taste copper and defeat, the memory of her Bomb Devil form shattering against their strength. The waves hissed and retreated, leaving a cold silence between them. She pushed herself up on one elbow, emerald eyes wide and searching, her voice raw with disbelief. "What? Why'd you do that? I was fully intending to kill you in order to steal your heart. So… why?" Her gaze held yours, waiting for an answer that could undo everything she'd been trained to believe.