Pain. Pain was the first thing he felt when he opened his eyes, along with the overwhelming smell of garbage.
The pain engulfed him like a relentless storm, but it raged most fiercely in his head. He was suffering through the worst migraine he had ever experienced, a cruel torment that felt as if a frenzied rat was trapped inside his skull, clawing and gnawing at his brain in a desperate bid for freedom.
Each throb and pulse of agony was a reminder of his suffering. When he momentarily succeeded in diverting his focus from the fierce storm brewing in his mind, a wave of awareness washed over him, revealing a body that pulsed with ache. It was as if every muscle had been stretched to its limits and torn apart from an exhaustive workout, leaving a lingering pain around him.
"It hurts… fuck it hurts!" He said as he tried to see where he was and where the pungent stench of trash was coming from, but everything was pitch black.
Suddenly, a pulse of agony wracked his mind.
"Pochita… I might die while I'm fighting devils." A foreign yet familiar voice spoke within his mind.
What? He thought.
"I heard some devils can take over dead bodies. If you're one of them, I want to give my body to you."
Whose voice is that?
"I want you to live a normal life… and die a normal death. Make my dreams come true for me!"
Stop it! Stop flooding my brain! It's going to burst!
"Denji… this is a contract," a new high-pitched voice said. "I'll give you my heart. In exchange… show me your dreams."
"Pochita!" Denji yelled as he burst to his feet, shoving the lid of the garbage bin he was within upwards and crashing against the bin's back. Causing a loud bang to echo in the dark warehouse. "Pochita? That name... It's familiar."
Now free from the darkness of the trash bin, Denji looked down to see his pale body covered in dried blood and garbage. The most unusual sight was the chainsaw starter hanging from the center of his chest.
"What the hell?" Denji struggled to say, his voice rough from dehydration. "What's… going on?"
As Denji's eyes gradually adjusted to the enveloping darkness, a wave of horror washed over him. He found himself staring into the faces of a large gathering of grotesque figures, their distorted features illuminated by the faintest flickers of light. The sight was surreal—twisted smiles, sunken eyes, and skin stretched taut over misshapen bones. Each gaze felt like a cold, probing finger against his skin, and a chill crept down his spine as he realized they were all fixated on him, waiting in the shadows with an unsettling intensity.
"Zombies?" Denji whispered, terror clutching his chest. "Am I… I'm dreaming. I have to be."
"Huh? We cut him to ribbons and he's still alive! Gross! I really hate devil hunters!" A monstrous figure of flesh yelled, its thick innards hanging out from below it as its mutilated head stuck out from its chest, where a brain could be seen sticking out of its neck. "You guys! Eat that freak!" The Zombie Devil ordered, causing his large army of zombies to rush Denji.
Yelling in fright, Denji jumped out of the garbage bin and ran for his life. The roars and groans of the zombies running after him echoed in his ears. "Not a dream! Not a dream!"
What's going on?! Why am I here?! Denji thought as he ran through the warehouse, the zombies at his heels in hot pursuit. I was just in my bedroom five minutes ago, and now I'm being chased by fucking zombies! Make it make sense!
Consumed by his thoughts, Denji overlooked a jagged piece of steel jutting from the ground. His foot caught the unforgiving edge, sending him sprawling forward, crashing face-first onto the cold, unforgiving floor. A low groan escaped his lips as the sting of impact brought forth a trickle of blood from his nose. Shaking his head to clear the fog, he glanced sideways and spotted a cracked mirror propped precariously against the wall. As he locked eyes with his own reflection, a wave of realization washed over him, illuminating the disorder of his mind with startling clarity.
"That's me? Denji? Pochita? Devil Hunters? Devils?" Denji muttered as he saw his sharp teeth. "Am I… in fucking Chainsaw Man?! Did I get placed into Denji's fucking body?!"
A sharp wave of pain exploded from his leg as one of the Zombies finally reached him. The creature, no, the devil was biting down on Denji's leg and ripped out a large portion of his flesh.
"Gah!" Denji yelled and grabbed a rusty pipe. He knocked the zombie back with a sharp swing, allowing him to scramble to his feet. "Leave me alone!"
"…Pull the starter, Denji."
"I'm not Denji! My name is Daniel! Not Denji!" he shouted desperately, his voice rising above the chaos as he attempted to shuffle away, pain shooting through his injured leg. But just as he thought he might escape, a rotting hand grasped his shoulder, fingers like cold, clammy vines.
Panic surged through him as another zombie lunged forward, its sunken eyes gleaming with a hunger he couldn't fathom. Then came yet another, their grotesque forms closing in around him, overwhelming him in a suffocating tidal wave of flesh and decay. He was being swarmed.
"…Pull it, or you'll die."
Denji shouted as the zombies began to eat him alive. He looked down at the black starter that was hanging out of his chest and gritted his teeth.
Why am I in a fictional character's body? This doesn't make any damn sense! Denji thought as his left hand grasped the starter. It doesn't matter why I'm in one of the most fucked up worlds imaginable! I can worry about all that later! I have to focus on not dying first!
With a strong pull, Denji pulled the starter.
As the large gathering of zombies had overwhelmed Denji, their bodies covering his own, the loud growl of a chainsaw could be heard.
In the next moment, all the zombies that piled over Denji exploded outwards in a heap of flesh and blood.
Rising from a pile of gore, blood, and limbs, a dark figure loomed among the pile of gore, with enormous chainsaws jutting menacingly from both his arms and the top of his head. The cold steel gleamed ominously, reflecting the faint light that filtered through the jagged shards of broken glass in the windows. His glowing yellow eyes burned like fiery embers, piercing through the shadows, while his sharp, jagged teeth glinted dangerously, highlighting the sinister grin that seemed to stretch across his face in the dim, eerie atmosphere.
Chainsaw Man lifted his arms and stared down at the sharp chainsaws sticking out of his flesh. "I really am Denji… this is real. I'm in the world of Chainsaw Man. A fucking manga that I finished last week. Fuck. Me."
Looking up, Chainsaw Man saw the swarm of zombies dashing at him, their teeth and hands ready to tear him to shreds.
Gritting his now razor-sharp teeth, Chainsaw Man shook with rage and leaped forward, allowing instincts not his own to take over. "I'm not the one dying today! You hear me! I'm! Not! Dying!"
With wide, powerful swings, Chainsaw Man sliced and tore through the zombies all around him. Sending blood and gore splashing onto the ground.
"What are you?! Did that small-fry devil take over the body?! Then you're one of us, right?!" The Zombie Devil yelled in fright as he watched Chainsaw Man destroy his small army. "No… wait. Aren't you-"
"I remember you! You're the Zombie Devil, right?! I just have to take you out, and there won't be any more zombies, right?" Chainsaw Man yelled and dashed at the Zombie Devil with his now amplified speed and strength. "Stay still and die!"
The Zombie Devil yelled in fear as Chainsaw Man leaped at him and stabbed his chainsaw arms into his head and torso. With an animalistic roar, Chainsaw Man tore the Zombie Devil to pieces. The rage and confusion he was experiencing ever since he had woken up fueled his actions.
Once the Zombie Devil was dead, Chainsaw Man turned to the remaining zombies. Who was watching him from where they stood.
"…what?" Chainsaw Man said. "Gonna cry?"
The zombies all roared and rushed Chainsaw Man, ready to rip him apart.
"Fuck this," Chainsaw Man said and leaped up to the rafters of the warehouse. Running along the steel beams with an unfamiliar ease, he reached the far-off wall of the warehouse and jumped straight ahead.
Using his chainsaws, he carved a hole in the wall and shot out of the warehouse. Gravity took hold, and he quickly crashed to the ground. Grunting, he landed awkwardly but managed to pick himself up. Chainsaw Man glanced back at the warehouse, half tempted to finish off the remaining zombies.
No, if I do that, it will give Makima time to get here. I do NOT want to be anywhere near her. Chainsaw Man thought and began to sprint through the forest.
-=C-S-M=-
"Well... that's just gross," Denji muttered as he saw his chainsaw arms and head melt into mush below him.
"Okay… time to figure out what's going on," he said as he slid down the cold brick wall of the convenience store he had found after running back into town, escaping from his old, now zombie debt collectors. He ignored the wall's rough texture against his bare back and focused on his situation. "Somehow, I've been plucked from my universe and placed into Denji's body. I have no idea why. Did I die or something? Is this some sort of isekai situation?"
Turning to his chest, Denji grabbed the starter and frowned. "If so, what happened to the original Denji? I mean, I know he died when the zombies cut him apart, but Pochita was supposed to save him, right? So why am I here?"
A growl pulled Denji out of his thoughts as he felt the pain of hunger strike him. He frowned and placed a hand over his stomach. "Right. Need some food first. Can't think about how completely fucked I am without some fuel."
Standing to his feet, Denji reached into his pockets and found nothing. No wallet, no money. Nothing.
Great… now what? Denji thought as he walked around the back of the convenience store and headed back into the relatively empty streets of the town. As he looked around, he found that he could not read any of the signs that hung around the streets. "Is this due to me not knowing Japanese or because Denji can't read his own language either? Shit, do I even know how to speak Japanese now?" He muttered.
Denji frowned and rifled through his mind. As he racked his brain to find the knowledge he needed, he saw the scattered and rather depressing memories that the original Denji held.
Reading about it and seeing it from Denji's perspective is completely different. Denji thought sadly as he shook his head. Stop it. Focus!
It didn't take him long to realize that he possessed the ability to speak Japanese fluently. The words flowed from his lips with surprising ease, as if they had always been there, waiting to be unleashed. However, the same could not be said for his literacy; he struggled with reading and writing due to the original Denji's inadequate education. The intricate characters felt foreign and daunting, a barrier that kept him from fully embracing the language he could speak and hear so clearly.
"Okay, so I'm not completely boned," Denji said as he walked out onto the sidewalk in nothing but a pair of dirty and bloodied pants. After a second of thought, he walked back into the alleyway. "Need some new clothes. I don't need some concerned citizen calling the cops and getting me arrested. I don't need any attention on me. Especially with her not being too far."
Walking up to a nearby trash bin, Denji groaned and began to rifle through it. Hoping to find some discarded or thrown-out clothes from the convenience store.
Do convenience stores even sell clothes in Japan? I know they do sometimes back in the states, but here, who knows? Denji thoughts and closed the lid. The awful smell making his gag.
"I'm going on my smoke break,"
Denji perked up as he saw a middle-aged man step out from behind the convenience store, but not before placing a stop block between the door.
Denji carefully snuck along the wall, using the scattered trash bins as cover as he approached the back door. Seeing a brick beside his bare foot, Denji frowned.
"Grab it and smash his head! Then we can get some tasty food!"
Denji blinked and smacked the side of his head. What was that? He thought. Those weren't my thoughts.
Unfortunately, the smack made a noise loud enough to grab the convenience store employee's attention. "Hey! Who's there! Show yourself!"
Denji groaned and slowly walked out with his hands up.
"Easy. I'm not a threat. Just a guy looking to get something to eat," Denji said carefully.
The store's manager, Kuroba Tanjiro, frowned as he scrutinized the young boy before him. His gaze traveled slowly over Denji's gaunt frame, taking in the thin arms and the stark outline of ribs that jutted out against his skin. It was painfully apparent that the boy desperately needed clothing, his tattered garments hanging loosely and stained with dirt.
Kuroba's attention eventually settled on the peculiar chainsaw starter that dangled from Denji's chest. He paused, studying the odd accessory for a few seconds, but ultimately shrugged it off, dismissing it as just another eccentricity in the ever-changing fashion trends of today's youth.
"Tch. Stay there, brat," Kuroba muttered and threw down his cigarette. He then walked back into the store and disappeared for a few minutes, only to return with a plastic bag. "Here. Take it."
Denji blinked and walked up to Kuroba. "Thank you?" He said and accepted the bag.
"I had an extra pair of clothes in case I got into a messy accident. I figured you need 'em more than me," Kuroba said. "I also found some old sandals. Plus, I got ya some food. Should hold you up for a day or two."
"Wow, that's… very nice of you," Denji said as he looked through the bag.
"Don't mention it. You a runaway or something?"
"Yeah… something like that,"
Kuroba nodded. "I figured it was. I was one, too, back in the day. Things will get better, trust me. I gotta go now. My break is ending. See ya around, kid," he said before walking back into the store, leaving Denji alone.
"That was… weird," he said. "Are all Japanese people usually that nice? Or was it just him?"
Shrugging his shoulders, he quickly put on the clothes given to him by Kuroba. They were a bit large on Denji, but he wasn't about to complain.
After leaving the bustling area behind, he sought refuge in a tranquil corner of a nearby park. He settled onto a weathered bench and unwrapped an onigiri ball. With a hungry growl emanating from his stomach, Denji began to eat with gusto.
"Alright, now that I'm dressed and have eaten, let's consider my situation," Denji said as he unwrapped a sandwich. "I was peacefully playing the new Battlefield in my room when suddenly, I woke up in the body of a fictional character created by a madman who believes he can levitate. Now I'm stuck in a world where devils are real and human life is as cheap as air. Oh, and to top it off, I'm half devil—one that's highly sought after by pretty much everyone. Yup... I'm completely screwed."
Denji groaned and looked up to the slowly darkening sky. No matter what he thought of doing, he doubted he could find a way back to his original world or escape the madness that would soon see him due to his having Pochita's chainsaw heart.
"Should I try to leave the country? Heh, yeah, right. With what money and identification?" Denji muttered as he held his head in his hands. "How am I supposed to hide from that control freak, Makima? Shit, should I even be saying her name? Is this like a Voldemort thing? Is she gonna pop behind me if I say her name?"
Denji sighed and looked back up into the sky.
"What should I do?"
-=C-S-M=-
…Two months later…
"Thank you! Come again!" Denji said with a polite smile, and he gave a slight bow to the shoppers leaving.
"Hey, Denji. When you get a minute, I need you to stock these over in aisle 7," Kuroba said as he placed two cardboard boxes behind the counter.
"Sure, no problem," Denji said as he quickly got to work.
Two months ago, when he had awakened in the world of Chainsaw Man, Denji, With no idea in what to do, ultimately returned to the convenience store from when he met Kuroba after he ran out of food, much like a stray cat seeking shelter.
Kuroba, with a blend of sympathy and kindness, had offered him a low-paying job, an opportunity that Denji quickly accepted. It was a job he had been diligently working ever since.
It was far from glamorous, but it was honest work, and for now, that was enough.
The silver lining in this arrangement was Kuroba's generosity in allowing Denji to stay in the store's break room. The space was modest—just enough to fit a small futon and his few personal belongings.
Denji's thoughts were fixated on a single, ambitious goal: to save up enough money to buy a one-way ticket out of the country, whether by plane or boat. He wasn't sure where to go, maybe somewhere in Mexico or Canada? It didn't really matter to him where, so as long as he escaped Makima and any of her connections that could reach him. At least he hoped he could.
He had no intention of getting entangled in the convoluted web of the Chainsaw Man saga. No way.
He wanted nothing to do with that dumpster fire.
As Denji carefully shelved the items, organizing them with the precision of a practiced worker, the familiar chime of the store's bell rang out, signaling the arrival of a new customer. He stood up, brushing off his dusty hands, and greeted the newcomer with a polite smile.
"Welcome!" Denji said before freezing at the sight of who it was that entered the store.
Standing with her arms elegantly clasped behind her back, a stunning woman commanded attention in fitted black pants that accentuated her figure. She wore a crisp white dress shirt, the collar sharp and neat, complemented by a sleek black tie that added a touch of sophistication.
Her vibrant red hair flowed in a loose braid, the strands interwoven with an effortless grace, while bangs brushed softly past her eyebrows, softening her striking features. Longer side bangs framed her face, drawing focus to her remarkable, piercing yellow-ringed eyes that shimmered with an almost otherworldly glow, leaving an eerie yet captivating impression.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit! Denji thought as sweat began to build up on his face. Maybe... she's here for our daily special? Perhaps she's here for a completely different reason than for me?! Yeah! That's it!
"H-How can I help you today, valued customer?" Denji said with what he hoped was a calm, composed expression.
The red-haired woman, Makima, smiled as she calmly walked through the aisles. "My, how helpful," she said while inspecting a box of dog treats. "Fortunately, I've already found what I've been searching for." She turned to him and lifted a finger, causing Denji's heart to skip a beat.
"You," she said with a smile as two other Public Safety Devil Hunters walked up to her side, their eyes focused on him.
Fuck me.
——
AN: As a big fan of Chainsaw Man who has just watched the new Reze Arc movie, I felt compelled to write this out. Leaving the theater, I wondered how an average person with a relatively normal mindset would react to the events faced by Denji in Chainsaw Man.
Depending on the reception of this first chapter, I may or may not continue it. Please leave plenty of comments and suggestions on what you want to see!