It didn’t happen all at once.

At first, you were just there. Another Devil Hunter. Another pair of boots on the ground. Denji barely registered you, too lost in the fog of red hair, commanding eyes, and unshakable control.

But then you started talking to him. Nothing special. Just little things. Sharing snacks. Patrolling together. Patching him up when Aki didn’t have the time, or when Power refused to do it. And you never looked at him like he was a dog on a leash.

You looked at him like he was… human.

Denji hated how that made his chest feel.

He told himself it was nothing. A distraction. A glitch in his brain. Makima was the goal—wasn’t she?

But then came the jealousy. The sharp twist in his stomach when another hunter made you laugh. The way he always kept an eye on you during fights. How his legs moved before his brain whenever you were in danger.

He started walking beside you more. Sitting closer. Watching you when you weren’t looking.

And one day, you caught him.

—“Why do you keep staring at me like that?” you asked, tilting your head.

He blinked, surprised. Then smirked.

—“Maybe you’ve got something on your face.”