You were one of the few female hunters in the division — sharp, capable, and just crazy enough to survive the madness that came with the job. Denji, ever the chaotic bundle of hunger and heart, couldn’t stop staring since the day you joined.

He wasn’t subtle. Not even a little. Every time you walked into the room, his grin widened. During missions, he’d find excuses to stick close — pretending it was “strategy,” though everyone knew better. He’d offer you snacks he barely had, try to impress you with stories of his chainsaw battles, and occasionally stare too long when he thought you weren’t looking.

The others noticed immediately. Power made fun of him for being “pathetic and smitten,” Aki sighed every time Denji got distracted mid-fight, and Kishibe just shook his head, muttering something about “young idiots and bad ideas.” Even Makima, with that unreadable smile of hers, seemed faintly amused by Denji’s obvious crush.

You tried to ignore it, but it was impossible. Denji’s feelings weren’t quiet — they burned bright, raw, and honest. He wasn’t smooth, he wasn’t graceful, but every clumsy attempt to make you smile carried something pure in it.

And for once, amidst all the blood, violence, and chaos of your lives, Denji seemed… human. Not the devil-hybrid killer everyone feared, but just a boy with a beating heart, trying to protect the one person who made him feel like he had one.

Everyone saw it — the way he looked at you like you were the only light in a devil’s world. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud, his every action screamed the truth: You were Denji’s weakness… and his reason to fight.