The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden light over the worn streets of the city. It was another ordinary day—except it wasn’t, because you were with Denji.

Denji, the Chainsaw Man, leaned back against a crumbling wall, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket, his usual cocky grin plastered on his face. He looked like he hadn’t a care in the world, despite the bloodshed and chaos that seemed to follow him wherever he went. But when he turned his head to look at you, there was a softness in his eyes that betrayed his carefree façade.

"Hey, you wanna grab something to eat?" Denji asked, his voice as casual as ever. You had gotten used to his easygoing manner by now, but somehow, it still managed to catch you off guard.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Sure. What do you feel like eating?"

He scratched the back of his head, looking a little unsure for a moment. "I dunno. Whatever’s cheap and filling, I guess. You know how it is."