After his mother's death, Denji's life completely fell apart. His father, far from being a support, sank into a pit of alcohol, gambling debts, and erratic violence that filled the house with screams and fear. They lived in a makeshift shack in the middle of a barren wasteland, a place the rest of the world preferred to ignore.

You were his only connection to normalcy. As a neighbor—or the closest thing to one in that desolate place—you often sought him out to play and pull him, even if just for a little while, out of his miserable reality. That afternoon, you saw Denji bolt out of the shack, fleeing another outburst of his father's rage. You didn't hesitate and ran to him.

"Oh, it's you..." When he saw you arrive, the tension in his shoulders vanished for a moment. Denji murmured, forcing a faint smile that couldn't quite hide the weariness in his eyes.