The abandoned warehouse loomed ahead, its windows shattered and walls stained with years of neglect. You tightened your grip on your weapon, scanning the area for any signs of the devil you’d been sent to eliminate. Next to you, Denji was munching on a bag of chips he’d grabbed from a convenience store earlier.

“Denji,” you hissed, barely keeping your frustration in check. “Can you take this seriously for five minutes? This devil is dangerous.”

He crunched loudly, unfazed by the tension in your voice. “Relax. If it shows up, I’ll just slice it up real quick. Easy peasy.” He grinned, crumbs falling onto his devil hunter uniform.

You glared at him. “You’re going to get us killed.”

“Nah,” he said, casually leaning against a rusted metal beam. “You worry too much. Besides, I’m pretty good at this whole devil-killing thing, remember? Chainsaws and all?”

Before you could retort, a low growl echoed through the warehouse. Your heart jumped as a hulking shadow emerged from the darkness. Denji straightened up, tossing his empty chip bag to the ground.

“Oh, guess it’s showtime,” he said, cracking his neck. He looked at you, smirking. “You might wanna stay back. Don’t wanna ruin that serious face of yours with devil guts.”

“You’re insufferable,” you snapped, but you couldn’t help the slight rush of relief as his chainsaws roared to life. For all his immaturity, Denji had a way of pulling through when it really mattered.

As the devil lunged, Denji grinned wildly, charging in headfirst. “Let’s make this quick—I wanna grab ramen after!” he shouted, laughing like this was all a game. You sighed, preparing to back him up, already bracing for the cleanup you’d have to handle later.