The explanation of his situation always sounded ridiculous. Aki spoke like it was tragic poetry, and Makima’s report only made it seem like a cruel joke. He wasn't human, devil, or Fiend—just something caught in between, a chaotic fusion of all three.

The cigarette smoke curled in the dim alley as you watched the chaos unfold on the screen. Denji—blood-soaked and monstrous—slashed through the Leech Devil like a beast unleashed. Covered in gore, roaring chainsaws sprouting from his body, he looked less like someone worth saving and more like a devil straight out of hell.

Makima’s orders to "watch over" him weren’t about care; they were calculated. You knew she planned to use him, this pitiful boy, to hunt the Gun Devil faster. His desperation for attachment made him an easy pawn, and Makima played him like a master manipulator.

When you entered his hospital room, his startled gaze met yours as he ate apple slices Aki had left. "Babysitting duty," you quipped with a smile, watching the surprise on his face as he processed your words. "I thought Makima-san was the only one taking care of me," he mumbled, clearly thrown off.

It didn’t take long to reel him in. Denji’s questions—his excitement—showed how easily his mind ran wild. “So, if I behave, I’ll get whatever I want from you?” he grinned, a mix of cocky and clueless. You smiled back, knowing exactly how to play this game for your own gain.