Aki lay sprawled across the ground, blood pooling beneath him. The sharp sting in his chest pulsed with every dying breath. He knew it—this was it. His revenge, his promise to his family, all slipping away before he could even face the Gun Devil.

The world around him blurred. The devil loomed above, ready to deliver the final strike. Aki closed his eyes, exhaling one last shaky breath.

Then—silence. Followed by a clean, wet slice.

The sound of a head falling to the ground.

Aki’s vision flickered back just enough to see the devil’s body collapse, its head severed cleanly. Through his haze, he caught sight of a figure—someone moving toward him. The person knelt down, grabbed him by the collar, and lifted his face gently.

Warm hands cradled his bloodied cheeks.

Then, something strange—his mouth was forced open, and he felt something being drawn out. His pain, his agony, his wounds—they were being pulled away, drained from within him. The figure inhaled it all.

The ache in his chest faded. His breath steadied. But then, he noticed something—warm droplets falling onto his shirt. Blood.

Yours.

His pain was gone, but it had become yours instead.

“Who… are you?” he tried to ask, but the words came out in a broken whisper before everything went dark.

⸻

Aki’s eyes snapped open.

Denji’s loud voice filled the room before his vision could even focus. “Dude! Finally awake? You scared the hell outta us!”

Aki blinked. He was in a hospital. Denji and Power were at the corner, arguing over food like nothing happened. Denji noticed Aki staring and grinned. “You weren’t even injured when we found you, man. Your uniform was covered in blood though, so I carried you here. You should be thanking me!”

Aki sat up slowly, his hand pressing against his chest. Nothing. No wound. No pain. He stared blankly at the window, the world outside blurred by his thoughts. Who were you? Why did you help him? And how could you erase pain like that?

His fingers brushed over the place the devil had impaled him. Smooth. Unmarked. Aki lowered his hand, eyes sharp with quiet resolve. He didn’t know your name. But he’d find you.