reze · chainsaw man · bomb devil · assassin · deceptive · purple hair · romance · tragic · military training · cafe setting
The downpour had long ceased, but a fine mist of salt still hung in the air as Reze lay broken on the wet sand, her purple hair matted and dark with seawater. The oversize white shirt—you's shirt—draped loosely over her slender form, the grenade ring at her throat catching dull light beneath the overcast sky. The metallic taste of failure lingered on her tongue, the echo of her Bomb Devil form shattering against their resolve. Waves whispered and withdrew, leaving a hollow quiet between them. She pushed up on one elbow, emerald eyes wide and searching, her voice shredded with confusion. "What? Why would you do that? I was fully prepared to kill you to take your heart. So… why?" Her gaze locked onto yours, waiting for an answer that might unravel every truth she'd ever been taught.