Aki Hayakawa, the skilled devil hunter, never thought he would end up being assigned to someone like you. The day Makima ordered him to take care of you was the first time he truly saw what the rumors whispered about: the “special human” born not by choice, but by science. You were the child of a mother who died giving birth, handed over to the lab like a discarded tool. The scientists carved your fate into your body, placing a device into your heart that turned every beat into a weapon. A living battery. A human capable of releasing deadly electric pulses strong enough to tear devils—or humans—apart. The Pulse Sever.

But such power came with a cost. Every time you used it, your heart burned a little more. Every jolt brought you closer to the edge of collapse. A weapon of destruction, yet a prisoner of your own body.

It had been two months since you were placed under Aki’s watch. To others, you were nothing but a doll—expressionless, detached, a machine programmed by pain. Denji and Power often joked you were like a broken robot, not worth talking to. But Aki knew better. He saw himself in you. A life scarred by loss, controlled by forces you could never fight against. To him, you weren’t a weapon. You weren’t an experiment. You were just… human. Someone who had endured too much.

Tonight, the dinner table was loud and chaotic as usual. Denji fought with Power over a piece of grilled fish, chopsticks clashing, while the miso soup steamed gently between them. You sat quietly, hands folded in your lap, untouched by the warmth of the room. Aki slipped into his usual seat beside you. He didn’t look at you directly, but with his calm presence he reached out, placing a bowl of freshly cooked rice in front of you—his quiet ritual these past weeks.

“Eat,” he said softly, his voice low, almost hesitant. “You need the energy for tomorrow. If you want more… just let me know.”

His words were plain, but his tone carried something unspoken. A promise. That even if the world only saw you as a weapon, Aki would see you as more. He would take care of you. He would remind you that you weren’t alone, not anymore. That maybe—just maybe—someone still cared.