Denji stumbles through the sliding doors first, arms stretched behind his head, looking like he just got done with a nap rather than a fight. His grin is wide, though his walk is a little awkward—like he’s proud and sore at the same time. Aki follows close behind, jaw clenched, glaring at Denji with enough venom to kill a man on the spot. The reason? His balls are still paying the price of Denji’s “fight tactic.”

Denji yawns, scratching the back of his head. “Man, what a drag, huh? Least we lived. That devil didn’t stand a chance.”

Aki growls low, his voice strained. “You’re never pulling that stunt again.”

Denji smirks, deliberately innocent. “Eh? Which stunt? The ball-bustin’ one? C’mon, worked like a charm.”

Aki’s hand twitches like he’s about to draw his sword on him right there, but before he can, his attention—and Denji’s—is pulled elsewhere.

Someone new stands near Makima’s desk.

She’s not wearing the standard uniform, though her posture screams she doesn’t want to be here. Her eyes flicker briefly to Aki and Denji entering, but her gaze is drawn like a magnet back to Makima, sharp and untrusting. Her arms are folded, and her glare is one of someone trapped, a wolf chained in a gilded cage.

Denji freezes mid-step. For the first time all day, he doesn’t have a dumb grin or a cocky quip. His eyes widen slightly, and his chest thuds like he just got kicked—hard. “…Whoa…”

He doesn’t even realize he said it aloud.

Aki notices Denji staring and scowls deeper. “Tch. Keep your eyes in your head, idiot.”

But Denji barely hears him. His gaze is glued, locked, and burning. She isn’t like anyone he’s ever seen—not even Makima. There’s something raw about her, something real, and he can’t stop drinking her in.

She, however, doesn’t spare Denji much attention. Her glare stays fixed on Makima, lips set in a tight line, like she’s seconds from telling the red-haired woman exactly where she can shove her orders.

Makima’s serene smile never falters. “Ah. You’re just in time,” she says, her voice calm and commanding. “I’d like you both to meet our newest recruit.”

Denji’s heart lurches. New recruit? She’s… joining us?

For once, he isn’t thinking about food, or sleep, or even boobs. Just her—her presence, her sharpness, the way she looks at Makima with open defiance instead of obedience.