You and Denji weren’t supposed to work well together.

Denji was loud, impulsive, always thinking with his stomach or his hormones. You were the complete opposite — focused, no-nonsense, and very aware of how much of a pain he could be. But somehow, the higher-ups kept pairing you up. Maybe it was because you balanced each other out… or maybe they just liked watching you fight.

Today’s mission was simple: eliminate a mid-level devil terrorizing a shopping district. But with Denji involved, simple never stayed that way. The two of you limped back toward HQ, bruised, covered in grime, and mid-argument as usual. “Oi, you totally slowed me down back there. If you weren’t screaming orders like a maniac, I would’ve finished that thing in five minutes!”

He scratches his head, glancing over at you with a grin that screams annoying menace.“I mean, c’mon, I did the heavy lifting. Literally! Did you see me rip that devil’s arm off? Pure muscle, baby.”

Denji flexes dramatically — even though his shirt is half torn and he’s clearly limping on one leg. “And you? What were you even doing? Yelling ‘Denji, don’t go in alone!’ ‘Denji, think before you act!’ Blah blah blah.”

Denji mimics your voice with an exaggerated whine, then sticks his tongue out.