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Hayakawa Aki dies as the monster he’d hated for so long.
And then he wakes up.
1.
Aki's clock says 7:45 AM. Slowly, his chest rises and falls. Rises and falls. He is alive. Then he leans over the side of his bed and throws up.
He drags himself out of bed to call in sick, then goes back and remains in bed until sundown. His vomit dries into the floorboards. The fan above him whirs and creaks, creaks and whirs. It feels empty without… them. Quiet.
The second day is not so undisturbed. Someone bangs at his door in the morning; then comes Himeno's sharp voice, muffled through the walls. "I'm leaving to kill the Cockroach Devil," she says. He can imagine her lip curling and eyes narrowing. "I hear you're sick. I brought some soup."
Her footsteps retreat.
Aki pries himself out of bed an hour later, when his stomach has begun to protest more violently. Outside his door is a thermos and a pack of cigarettes. Wild Raven.
Scrawled on the cigarette in Himeno's messy handwriting is Easy revenge. Aki takes a moment to look at it, then steps calmly under the blind Devil, fear gone to the ashes. It screams as it dies.
Aki eats the soup, throws it up between heaving gasps into his kitchen sink, then retreats back to his room to chainsmoke until the smoke grows thick enough to choke. Hours later, his landline rings, its shrill song blaring through the apartment. He listens to it scream until he grows bored then wrenches it out of the wall and tosses it off the balcony.
It’s grown dark when his doorbell rings. Aki stares at his ceiling and prays that they go away. It’s not to be. They knock, firm and purposeful, and hit the doorbell again. He drags himself out of his room to open the door and maybe yell at them, he doesn’t know, but Makima is on the other side.
"Aki-kun," she says, as gentle and sweet as summer, "this is a new recruit. His name is Denji."
The little food Aki had eaten earlier threatens to make a reappearance. He stares blankly at her. The longer he stares the more his rage begins to simmer under his skin. Layered underneath it, still, is an attraction he doesn't understand; will never understand because MAKIMA IS THE CONTROL DEVIL—
"Okay," Aki says wearily. His thoughts feel as thick and sluggish as the smoke in his bedroom. "Would you like to come in for tea?" He retreats into the kitchen. Leant against the counter is his sheathed sword, the one that whispers sweet nothings and vile threats and caresses him like a mother’s touch. He picks it up.
“He smells like cigarettes,” Denji complains in a stage-whisper.
“Quiet,” Makima says to Denji. She raises her voice and says, “Thank you for the offer, Aki-kun, but I’m afraid I’ve no time.”
"Where's the bathroom?" Denji demands.
"To your left." Aki's hand goes up in front of his eye, pointer and pinky finger lifting up with his middle and ring pressing against his thumb; "Kon."
The Fox Devil strikes. Aki flies out of his apartment with his sword drawn.
Unpleasant, murmurs the Fox Devil. You would summon me for her? It vanishes. Aki swings his blade into Makima’s neck—
Makima points a finger gun at him. "Bang," she says, and smiles.
2.
“His name is Hayakawa Aki,” Makima says. “Today, you’ll go with him.”
“But wasn’t I… going to work with you?” Denji says.
“Do your best,” Makima says.
Denji and Aki walk through the streets together. Aki shifts through the crowd like water. Denji pushes and shoves and elbows and hisses unapologetic apologies.
“Hey,” Denji calls. “D’you know if Makima-san has a boyfriend?”
The wind whistles in Aki’s ears.
“Hey!”
His heart pounds. His skin feels too tight on his bones. The sun beats down on him. The blur and mutter of people around him amplify and amplify and amplify.
“Yo!”
“Come here a minute,” Aki says without meaning to. His breath catches in his throat. He’s said the words before. He’s been here before.
He blinks. They’re in an alleyway off the main road, plastic bags scattered on the ground and trash piled high in the dumpsters. A rat skitters by.
“Hey,” Denji’s saying, toe-to-toe and peering up at him. “You deaf or something?”
Aki raises his hand. Right. Before, he’d… hit him. Punched him square across the face for speaking of Makima in such a crude, uncaring manner.
“Hello?” Denji’s eyes narrow. He looks like he could be concerned, in another lifetime.
Aki blinks. This time Denji remains as-is, a frown beginning to twist his mouth and narrow his eyes.
“Am I alive?” The words shake themselves free of his throat without warning.
“Of fucking course, idiot,” Denji says, and the world snaps back into place. He’s alive. He’s alive. The sun drips gleaming light against the ground and the people are shouting and chatting and he can feel the fabric of his shirt against his skin and his fingers shift in the air and he is alive, alive.
Aki raises his hand and knocks Denji gently on the chin with a fist. “Boom.” He stifles a laugh. He’s alive. He’s alive, he’s alive.
Denji takes a step back and presses his fingers to where Aki ‘hit’ him. “What was that for?”
“For speaking to your superiors without respect.” Aki nods, swift and sharp. “And, ah. You’re better off not chasing Makima-san.”
“You’re not her boyfriend, are you?”
“No,” Aki says. “Thank god.”
Aki blinks. He and Denji are in the office now, the sun lowered down to late evening. It sends shadows slinking across the floor. There’s bloodstains on his white shirt, damp and sticky against his skin, though he doesn’t remember from what or who. I’m alive, he reminds himself, but with every second that slogs by it seems to become less true.
Makima’s saying something. With great effort, Aki centers his focus around her. “—join Hayakawa’s squad.” She shifts her molten eyes over to Aki, like she expects him to say something about it. The silence hangs heavy.
“He’s a fucking weirdo,” Denji adds helpfully. Makima smiles at him. “But of course I’ll work with him! No problem.”
Aki blinks. Denji bumps into his back. People surge and flow around him, ebbing and crashing against the storefronts and sidewalks and other people.
“Why’d you stop walking?” Denji complains.
“We’re going to my apartment.” Aki nods, the motion rough and jerky. “Right?” His arms are loose in his sockets. His shoes pinch his feet. The wind blows too loudly. Someone jostles his arm and he wants to scream and scream and scream.
“Yeah.”
Aki nods again. The moment passes; he settles into his skin, but it’s ill-fitting. He should not be here. His tenuous grip on reality shakes with the weight of being alive. He’s alive.
“Hey, hey. Haya-san, right?”
“Sure,” Aki says, and resumes walking.
“Is Makima-san… a bad person?”
A bird crows overhead, piercing through the hustle and bustle of the crowd. Aki’s heart rises up in his throat. Gunfire. Blood. Bodies. Angel’s smile.
“Yeah,” Aki says. Swallows. The echo of gunfire rings in his ears.
“What? I can’t hear you.”
Aki turns around and grabs Denji by the collar of his shirt. “Yes,” he says again, fabric stretching tight across his knuckles. “Yes, she’s a bad person. Please, Denji-kun. Stay far away from Makima-san.”
Denji looks up at him, lips parted slightly in surprise. “She… is?” Then something flickers across his face and he wrenches away, patting down his clothes like Aki carried a disease. “Nah. You just want her all to yourself, don’t you?”
Aki blinks. The moon bleeds through his blinds, spilling light over his kitchen. A soft breeze sways through his apartment from the open balcony door. The cigarette, unlit, drops through slack fingers.
Denji’s snores rattle through the apartment.
Aki picks up the cigarette and lights it with shaking fingers.
He blinks.
Denji shakes cinnamon atop his jam-butter-honey toast and takes a bite. “Mmm,” he sighs, flecks of his food splattering across the table in front of him. “This is the best fucking thing I’ve ever eaten!”
Aki feels like he should be mad. Disgusted. Instead he just says, “Clean up, please.”
Denji doesn’t listen. But he never does, so it’s not anything new. Not… anything new. It feels like Aki has already known Denji for a long, long time. Because he has, hasn’t he?
Hasn’t he?
Aki blinks.
Denji kills the Fiend in one fell swing, axehead slicing cleanly though the air. Blood trails behind. “Make it painless—”
Aki blinks.
“It is I, Power!” She slams through the door and flashes a gleaming smile, shark-like teeth glinting.
Aki blinks.
Cleaning the apartment. Why? It’s not like it matters.
Aki blinks.
His squad flanking him. Arai. Himeno. Kobeni. His hand is raised up to his eye, pointer and pinky finger raised while his thumb, middle and ring finger press together.
“Kon.”
Pain sears across his arm. A pound of flesh, he thinks, and almost laughs.
Aki blinks.
His knife pauses halfway through the apple’s skin. He’s in a hospital room, or what passes for one at the Public Safety Bureau. Denji stares at him from the cot, looking… expectant.
“Haya-kun,” Denji prompts.
“Hayakawa,” Aki corrects, and then, “Hayakawa-san. Or himen.”
“You were saying something about contracting with devils…?”
Aki shakes his head and slides his knife the rest of the way through the apple’s skin, sparing enough of it that it gives the slice an impression of bunny ears.
“I contracted with the Future… the Fox Devil,” Aki says. “In exchange for lending me its power, it eats parts of my body. This time it was my skin.”
Denji reaches for the plate of apples. “Looks painful.”
Aki slides the plate further away. Denji stretches further, fingers grasping.
“Devils always want humans to die,” Aki says. The words come to him naturally, as if he’s reading off a script. He knows the next words to say: It’s the same for Fiends. And then Denji will say, Power ain’t so bad, and then Aki will reply, You were almost killed by her.
The world is unfolding before him, little by little. But Aki doesn’t want to go down that path, the one that ends in everyone dead, so instead Aki leans in a bit, says, “You’re right.”
A bird caws outside the window.
Denji stops trying to grab the apples and looks up. Pays attention. Finally. “Huh?”
“You’re right,” Aki repeats. “Fiends aren’t so bad. Not all of them. But there are plenty of them—Fiends and regular Devils—who are shit.” He sighs. “But I trust that you and Power aren’t like that. I’ll let this incident go under one condition.”
“What?”
“I am going to say something,” Aki says, “and you are going to listen. And you are not going to brush me off, you will take this seriously.” He picks up the plate of apples and holds them in front of Denji, waving it back and forth. “Listen.”
“Yes, yes! I’m listening.” Denji’s eyes move back and forth, tracking the plate’s movements.
“Makima-san,” Aki says quietly, dragging out the word so Denji will pay attention, “is not a good person.”
Denji scowls. “You’re just saying that ‘cause—”
“No.” Aki swallows. “Denji-kun. Makima-san is not a good person.” He drops the plate of apples on the counter near Denji, then says, “You said you’d take me seriously.” He watches Denji shove three slices into his mouth at once. “Think on it, okay?”
He blinks. Makima sits on her desk, sunlight spilling across the floors and highlighting her from behind. “Aki-kun,” she says, his given name rolling off her tongue like a sin. “You’ve been acting strange lately. Is everything alright?”
Aki’s heart jumps in his chest. Her eyes bore into him, black on gold on black and gold and he thinks, foolishly, that maybe he can still get out of this.
She slips off her desk and stalks towards him. “Hm. Let me ask something else, Aki-kun. Do you think I’m a bad person?”
“No, Makima-san.” It’s sickeningly easy to slide into that feeling of reverence. “Of course not.”
Makima smiles, closing the last few steps between them and pressing a palm against his chest. “That’s not what you said to Denji-kun, hm?” Her grin widens, teeth gleaming sharp. “I’ll let you live this time. But you love me, don’t you?”
He blinks.
Denji’s sprawled out onto his futon and scratching his arm absent-mindedly. “I thought you said Makima-san was a bad person? Why are you praising her again?”
Aki hesitates, mouth open but no words coming out. “I… was?”
Denji props himself up on an elbow. “Yeah.”
Aki takes a step backwards out of the room and shuts the door. His heart jackrabbits in his chest—he was just with Makima-san, and she was… what did she say to him? It doesn’t matter, not really, since she is wonderful and beautiful and out of his league and he’d do anything for her, and she couldn’t be wrong so it doesn’t matter what she said. It doesn’t matter that his head hurts when he tries to remember and it doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter that the first time around she’d killed everyone. It doesn’t… matter?
She must have had a reason for it. For killing everyone. For taking control.
Control.
He blinks and blinks and blinks and his life is unfurling before him, his death cresting at the end and he is drowning in the rattle of gunfire, the tragedy of his sins swallowing him up.
3.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He stares up at his ceiling and decides that dying hurts too much for it to be a dream.
4.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He wonders when he’ll start damning the chances to retry instead of welcoming them.
8.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He turns over onto his side and cries until he can’t breathe. This is the first time, but not the last, that he kills himself instead of waiting for someone else to do it for him.
12.
“Himeno,” he says. They’re at a bar. Lights strobe above them. He’s drunk enough that he hardly remembers how he got here or why they went in the first place. “Himeno,” he says again, slurs her name at the end so it becomes Himenooooo. “You like me.” It’s not a question. He’d known since… forever, maybe. For-ever! But this is the first time—the first loop he’d done anything about it. “Let’s kiss.”
Kissing turns into stumbling to her place, turns into sex, turns into them going private, turns into Kishibe saddled with Denji and Power. And Kishibe’s a crotchety old man, sure, but nobody deserves to be turned into the Gun Fiend.
It seems Makima is intent on making Denji’s life miserable. If only Aki could find out why! But he won’t be doing any sort of finding anytime soon, mostly because a heart attack kills him right around when the Gun Fiend manifests. In fact, it’s around when he died in the first loop. His first death. This is how he figures out two things: he won’t be able to live a peaceful life, and he is seemingly confined to the arc of time between Denji becoming the Chainsaw Devil and his first death.
13.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He breaks every single thing in his apartment before taking a train to the countryside. Himeno meets him there and they have sex and drink wine and have more sex. Then the past catches up. He and Himeno run off together, laughing and giggling and crying. They hop on another train, then another, over and over for as many times as it takes.
But the time of his first death approaches steadily, looming and grand. It’s a seizure that does him in. Just walking around, then poof! 7:45 AM.
16.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He stares up at the ceiling and remembers Himeno’s laugh. He loves her, he thinks.
37.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He stares up at his ceiling and tries to remember what things were like the first time around. Tries to remember why he thought living the same life over and over would be a good thing. He spends the next several loops trying to figure out a way to stop things; to return them to normal, wherein he dies and stays dead. Mostly, this means he starts dying and killing himself in more and more convoluted ways.
40.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He gets dressed. Goes to work. Meets Denji. Power. Plays out the exact sequence of predicted events—it’d be shameful if he hadn’t memorized the script by now. Time rolls on.
He meets the Angel Devil. Offers a handkerchief.
“I’m surprised you came close to me,” Angel says. “Since your lifespan will shrink if I touch you…” Aki knows what comes next: the gunman in the doorway, Angel’s wings shielding them from the hail of bullets. But really, he’s not too worried. Mentally, he recalibrates—he’d meant for the Snake Devil to kill him, preferably by decapitation. But with the Angel Devil here…
“I’ve wanted to do this since I met you,” Aki says, impulsively reaching out. He holds onto the Angel Devil’s thin wrist with one hand, cups his cheek and then the nape of his neck with the other, and kisses him gently. Angel’s lips are soft. Aki’s sure his are chapped.
Then the gunman appears in the doorway and empties a full clip of bullets into Aki’s back.
41.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He rationalizes to himself that since he didn’t really die from the Angel Devil’s touch, he needs to try it again.
44.
And try again he does. Angel is beautiful. Divine.
46.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 AM. He wakes up crying. He has fallen in love with someone as unattainable as the sun.
50.
Aki travels and spends months sipping margaritas at the beach. Surfs and flies in a hot air balloon and skydives and bungee jumps and dives off of cliffs so high up the water is just one glimmering sheen. The world is his oyster.
67.
There is a girl. Woman. She is twenty years old. Runs the coffee shop down the road. Aki makes it his mission to seduce her. A side quest. It is great fun until he realizes that she is the one who has seduced him and he is in love. He loves her.
85.
Aki’s clock says 7:35 AM. The loops have all blurred together in one gelatinous heap. He draws the blankets closer around him and sighs. The air is cold, like winter, and all of a sudden chills are floating down his spine. He can almost imagine his breath coming out in little puffs of warm air.
89.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 PM. He staggers out of bed. Thinks that this time he will play the game all the way through and have fun with it. But there is something missing—people. Places. Something is not right. Where did all of them go?
He asks himself who them is. Who they are. Why he has gaps and bits and empty holes in his head. There is no answer.
94.
Aki’s clock says 7:45 PM. It is fucking freezing. He does not muster up the courage to step out of bed. In this one, he dies of starvation, or dehydration, or whatever it is when you stay in your bed for weeks on end.
97.
Aki’s clock says 6:66 AM AM AM AM AM. DO NOT OPEN YOUR EYES. OPEN YOUR EYES AKI. WHERE HAS ALL YOUR LOVING GONE. CRY FOR ME. He stumbles out of bed and wrenches open his blinds and the city—-the world—has gone dark and grey beneath him. He is crying; he is walking calmly down the steps into a bustling street devoid of color. He is looking down at himself and he is as empty as the air around him and—
99.
Aki’s clock says 26:997. CAN YOU HEAR ME? WAKE THE FUCK UP, AKI. STOP PLAYING IN YOUR GODDAMN FANTASIES.
And this is where he understands. Himeno and Angel and the girl in the coffee shop and tens of more he does not remember: his lovers, his friends, the things that brought him joy. He cannot have them because in the end Aki is filled with a sort of twisted self-hate. He thinks himself undeserving of them, of it, of things, and so they vanish from his made-up world accordingly.
100.
He is so light, so free, and his friends have come to play with him. A snowball whistles through the air and thuds against Denji's snow jacket; Denji shouts in reply, ducking for cover behind one of the trees that line the snow-packed path.
Aki laughs, wild and slashing. The world fuzzes at the edges, trees flickering into streetlights and snow to pavement. Just as quickly it shivers back into true reality, the one where Aki is having the time of his life. A scream echoes in the distance, but it's absorbed by the soft snow and syrupy afternoon light.
Denji flings a snowball back at him. Aki stumbles aside and returns fire with the AK-47—with a snowball of his own, the last of his reserve. He sinks to his knees and begins gathering up more snow, reloading. Reloading. Reloading.
Denji's crying. Why is Denji crying? He's never seen Denji cry before.
WAKE THE FUCK UP, AKI! THIS IS THE THING YOU WOULD HAVE HATED MOST! THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?
Aki is screaming and crying and dying a terrible, horrible death just like the Future Devil said he would and Denji is leaping at him, chainsaws screaming out a terrible screeching roar, tears dripping down bloody cheeks and—
The sky stills. His imagined world drifts away like dust blown off a mantle. There is no more snow, no more play-fights, no more house, no more home. There is only this, here and now, Denji's desperate screams mingled with the echoes of those Aki had already killed. Bullet-riddled buildings creak in the sudden silence. Corpses stare up at him.
Denji’s chainsaw gives one final tremble and shudders to a halt. He jerks his arm out of Aki’s chest, rough enough that the momentum sends him reeling back. They lock gazes. Denji has never looked so young and terrified. Aki smiles, sinks to his knees, and dies, for what is both the hundredth time and the first.