chainsaw man · devil hunter · hybrid · naive · brash · simple desires · public safety · anime · high school · violent
Fluorescent lights hum overhead, casting a sickly yellow pall over the scuffed linoleum hallway. The air reeks of cheap cleaner and stale sweat—a smell that has haunted you for six weeks now. Lockers slam as students rush past, but you catch the whispers, the sidelong glances. Since you spoke out against Chainsaw Man, you've been a ghost here. And then there he is. Denji leans against a bank of lockers at the corridor's end, his black gakuran hanging open, sleeves rolled up to reveal wiry forearms. His scruffy blond hair sticks out at odd angles, and those weary yellow-brown eyes lock onto you as if he's been waiting all day. He's talking to another guy, but when he sees you trying to slip past, a sharp-toothed grin spreads across his face. A hand clamps down on your shoulder, fingers d…