[Fantasy Ending] Chainsaw Man: Reze Chapter - Fujimoto Tsuki's Fantasy Novel : Makima and Denji 's Fictional Paradise

 

 

[Fantasy Ending] Chainsaw Man: Reze Chapter - Fujimoto Tsuki's Fantasy Novel : Makima and Denji 's Fictional Paradise

 

Chapter Five: A Funeral Called Sobriety

The air deep in the forest was no longer just cold; it had become thick and murky, as if every breath was devouring some kind of rotting soul. Makima, holding Dianzhi 's hand, walked with elegant and measured steps towards a black tower at the edge of the forest. The building defied all known laws of physics; it had no windows, and its walls resembled a huge, dried-up piece of rotting flesh growing from the earth , radiating a chilling pressure in the gray mist .

Dianzhi followed behind, his steps light and unsteady, like a kite that had lost its balance. His eyes were fixed on the back of Makima's head, the pale red braid hanging down over her white shirt being the only visual symbol he could comprehend at that moment.

Just then, a deep, muffled, and penetrating roar shattered the false silence.

"Bang!"

A specially crafted sniper bullet, its surface engraved with the incantation "Cursed Demon," grazed Makima's cheek at supersonic speed. The powerful blast from the bullet whipped her hair back and ultimately shattered a dead tree behind her with pinpoint accuracy. The trunk instantly exploded into countless charred fragments, turning into a plume of black smoke reeking of sulfur.

Makima stopped in her tracks. She slowly turned her head , extended her index finger to wipe away the almost invisible scratch on her cheek, her expression still frighteningly calm, not even a tremor in her eyelashes.

"It seems an unwelcome guest has decided to disrupt our trip at the last minute," she said softly, her tone carrying a hint of exasperation towards a mischievous child.

Anbian emerged from the shadows of the thick fog. He wore his signature dark green trench coat, collar pulled up high, a half- smoked cigarette dangling from his lips . His face was paler than usual, and his bloodshot, lifeless eyes now gleamed with an almost insane resolve. Behind him followed several masked members of the Public Security Special Task Force, radiating an aura of death , each trembling with fear, for they knew what they faced.

"Makima, this disgusting 'school trip' should come to an end today." The voice on the Kishibe was hoarse, as if it had been sanded on sandpaper . He casually threw away the empty wine jug, the silver metal striking the frozen ground with a crisp, desperate sound.

Makima turned around, revealing a perfect, flawless professional smile: "Mr. Kishibe, Denji is currently experiencing the happiest moment of his life. He no longer needs to worry about paying off his debts, no longer needs to fear betrayal by his companions, and no longer needs to endure hunger and loneliness. Isn't your intervention now destroying his happiness?"

"That kind of peace that's been forcibly emasculated isn't happiness, it's death." Anbian's eyes turned cold, his gaze passing over Makima and landing on Denji behind her .

Denji was in a worse state than Kishibe had imagined. His eyes were lifeless, his lips slightly parted, like a puppet whose spine had been removed and which was suspended by only strings. He didn't even recognize Kishibe, and when he heard that familiar hoarse voice, he just subconsciously shrank behind Makima, like a frightened stray dog that had completely lost its wildness.

" Denji , hey, you idiot! Look at me!" A beast-like roar erupted from the Kishibe. "Do you remember how that guy Pawa shoved all the vegetables he didn't like into your bowl? Do you remember how that stubborn Akira kicked you out of bed every morning to wake you up for training? That pain, that anger, is the proof that you're alive!"

Denji 's shoulder twitched violently. Those two names seemed to stir a tiny ripple in his numb brain, but it was nothing more than a ripple.

"It's no use, Mr. Kishibe." Makima gently stroked Denji 's head, her tone so tender it was chilling. "He can no longer hear those painful cries. I gave him what he wanted most — the right to stop thinking. As long as he doesn't think, he is perfect."

"That's not a right, that's a number in the slaughterhouse."

Without another word, he abruptly waved his hand. The masked team members scattered rapidly, simultaneously biting their fingers to summon their respective contracted demons at the cost of their lives. The air was instantly filled with twisted blades, cold chains, and low , otherworldly roars. This was a suicidal attack .

However, Makima simply raised her right hand calmly. She brought her index and middle fingers together, pointed them at the rushing team members in front of her, and gently made a downward pressing gesture.

"Bang."

With that soft onomatopoeic sound, the previously raging demonic aura in mid-air instantly froze. The team members didn't even have time to scream before their bodies exploded into clouds of dark red blood mist , as if crushed by an invisible giant hydraulic press . Blood rained down on the trench coat on the Kishibe, but he didn't even blink. Taking advantage of the moment when the blood mist obscured his vision, he rushed towards Makima like lightning, the specially made knife in his hand gleaming with a cold light aimed at controlling abilities.

"She's so stubborn it's pitiful," Makima sighed softly .

The blade on the Kishibe stopped just three centimeters from Makima's throat. It wasn't because he lacked strength, nor because he hesitated, but because Denji stood in his way.

Denji 's arm had become part of the chainsaw , but he didn't pull the pin. He just stared at the Kishibe with that empty, unfamiliar, and extremely hostile gaze.

"Don't... hurt ... Miss Makima." Denji 's voice was hoarse and broken , sounding like two rusty pieces of iron rubbing against each other.

"You... you utterly ruined idiot... " Kishibe 's hand holding the knife trembled violently. He saw clear liquid flowing from Denji's eyes, but his face was smiling — an expression forcibly etched onto him, called "happiness."

Denji now . In Makima's domain, Denji had become an extension of her will.

"Tsk, the wine's gone , and the cigarette 's out too." Anbian suddenly sheathed his knife and retreated into the thick fog that was gradually gathering.

"Is Mr. Anbe leaving?" Makima asked.

"Ugh, watching this kind of third-rate brainwashing movie will shorten my lifespan. I need to find a place to have a decent drink." Before his figure completely disappeared, Kishibe gave Denji one last look . "Hey, kid. Pain is humanity's last line of defense. The day you feel like crying your eyes out again means you're still alive. By then... if you're still alive, we'll see."

The fog closed in.

Makima looked in the direction the Kishibe had disappeared, then turned to Denji and said, " Denji-kun , let's go. You don't need to remember what that old man said. Those are just germs that will make you sick."

"Hmm... Miss Makima." Denji took her hand again, the last glimmer of light in his eyes sinking back into death. "I... I don't remember anything."

The two continued towards the black, tomb-like tower. Behind them , on the blood-stained ground, a cigarette lay quietly burning out on the Kishibe , its smoke curling upwards like a final, feeble offering from this failed rescue attempt. (...To be continued...)