[Fantasy Ending] Chainsaw Man: Reze Chapter - Fujimoto Tsuki's
Fantasy Novel : Denji 's Fictional Side Story
Side story: Rusty pull rings and floral scents
Time
loses its weight within the tower. For Denji, who has become an
"object," a second is no different from a century.
He had
been by Makima's side for a long time. His life was as precise as a perfectly
running Swiss clock: he would wake up on time in the morning by Makima's
bedside and prepare perfectly warm black tea for her; in the afternoon, he
would accompany her on a tour of the territories she "dominated" like
a silent shadow; and at night, he would kneel quietly beside the sofa, listening
to the sound of her turning the pages of a book.
He no
longer dreamed, no longer felt hunger, and even the word "existence"
seemed too cumbersome to him. He was merely an extension of Makima's will, her
most loyal, most powerful, and also most hollow weapon.
Until
that day, an unexpected event occurred, and a pebble was thrown into the lake
called "Eternity".
Makima
led him through the ruins of an abandoned old suburb. It was a routine clearing
operation; a few weak demons, hiding in the rubble, were trying to survive on
the edge of the ruler's territory. Dōji skillfully pulled the chainring at his
chest, the roar of the chainsaw echoing through the wilderness . Blood rained
down , splattering on his expressionless face. He mechanically wielded the
blade, not even blinking, as if trimming excess weeds in that brutal slaughter.
After
the operation was over, Makima was summoned by a subordinate who rushed over to
handle urgent business. She gently patted Dianzhi 's head, signaling him to
wait where he was.
Denji
stood alone beside a broken, leaning telephone pole. At his feet lay a patch of
dry, yellowed weeds, and all around him were collapsed red brick walls and
rusted iron sheets. In this eerily silent moment, a sudden gust of wind blew
through the gaps in the steel bars of the ruins.
There
was a certain smell in the wind .
scent
of soap that Makima wore , nor was it the nauseating, raw, and bloody smell of
the battlefield. It was a scent with a faint bitterness, yet so refreshing that
it made you want to shout out loud.
That's the smell of coffee .
Not far
away, beneath the collapsed ruins, lay a rusty can of coffee , half-buried in
the dust. It was an extremely cheap industrial product, the kind you could buy
from any vending machine. It had probably been dropped by a passerby years ago
while fleeing for their lives; the production date on the can was long past its
expiration date, and in the slanting sunlight, it gleamed with a humble,
earthly luster.
Denji
's feet moved as if possessed. His lifeless eyes trembled slightly the instant
he saw the aluminum can . He slowly walked over, bent down, and carefully
picked up the can of coffee with his hands, hands stained with the blood of
countless demons he had slain .
When
his fingertips touched the cold, rough, and rusty metal can, the defenses deep
within his brain, which Makima had personally reinforced and sealed off for
countless days and nights, emitted a subtle yet sharp cracking sound.
"This
... is ... " His voice was terribly hoarse, like a machine that hadn't
been used in a long time.
He
clumsily gripped the pull ring. **"Click"** A crisp sound.
The
sound of metal clashing overlapped with the sound of the chainsaw being pulled
on his chest, triggering a completely different and catastrophic chain reaction
within him.
The
first sip of bitter, cold, and metallic liquid slid down his throat like a ball
of molten lava, instantly igniting his already frozen internal organs.
boom!
Memory
is like a tsunami that is many years overdue, breaking through all the
controlling dams in an instant.
He saw
a girl. She was in the rain, her sleeveless top soaked and clinging to her
slender back, water droplets sliding down her hair . She laughed as she taught
him to read, laughed as she bit his tongue, and laughed as she asked him if he
wanted to escape this crazy world together.
He saw
the bouquet of flowers , the bouquet he had held tightly in his arms, which had
withered and rotted on the cold train platform.
"Lei...
Jie ... ... "
Denji
's lips trembled violently. This name, which had been sealed away and erased,
now turned into a bloodstained thorn , fiercely provoking his already withered
nerves.
My heart skipped a beat in that pure white stillness.
That
was Pochita's roar from the abyss. That was Denji 's last remnant as a
"human," a furious spark rekindled in the ashes.
Then
came an overwhelming wave of pain.
losing
Hayakawa Aki , the guilt of killing his friend with his own hands, the shame of
being deprived of his humanity... These distractions that Makima had erased in
the name of "happiness" now transformed into the most real and
sharpest blades, cutting through his skin woven from false peace inch by inch.
" Denji-kun
, what are you doing?"
Makima
had somehow returned behind him. Her voice was still as gentle as a spring
breeze, but to Denji now , it sounded like countless cold, venomous snakes
trying to strangle his soul.
Dianzhi
didn't turn around. He was still looking at the cheap , expired can of coffee
in his hand, and at his haggard, distorted face, which finally seemed to have a
glimmer of life, reflected in the dark liquid.
His
eyes welled up with tears, and a drop of clear liquid fell into his coffee,
creating tiny ripples.
"Miss
Makima... " Denji 's voice had a tearing quality, as if his soul was
screaming, "This coffee... is really awful."
Makima's
gaze sharpened slightly , a fleeting hint of surprise flashing in her swirling
pupils. She saw the pull ring on Dōji 's chest, trembling uneasily—not from a
demon's desire, but from humanity's sorrow.
"Really?
Just throw away the awful stuff, Denji-kun . Go back to the tower , I'll give
you something better, the sweetest gift in the world." She reached out,
her fingertips carrying a cold, controlling force, trying to block his gaze
once more.
But
this time, Denji took a step back. Just one step, yet it crossed the chasm
between domination and self.
He
gripped the can of bitter , rusty coffee tightly. Although his spirit remained
shattered, and although he still couldn't break free from the powerful chains
of control in the short term, deep within those pupils that had regained a
glimmer of light, the lewd, tenacious, and indomitable soul named " Denji
" finally opened its eyes slowly after a long, lifeless slumber.
"No...
I 'll never forget this taste, even if it kills me."
His
heart was no longer at a steady death line. Beyond the tower filled with cicada
chirps and daylight, in that real world teeming with garbage, pain, and regret,
that fool Denji finally felt a long-lost, piercing, and raw chill.
That
excruciating cold was his last and only proof of being human. (...To be continued...)
