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Chop, chop, chop.
"S'called a julienne," Denji murmurs, knuckles grazing the polished steel of the kitchen knife. "Old friend taught me that. You gotta cut'em real-super thin, that way you can't even tell they're in the stew." Aki had tricked Power that way more than once, just to see if her disdain for vegetables was more psychosomatic than she insisted it was. Nayuta is a lot less fussy with her veggies than Power ever was, but at her age and with her strange tendencies he'd always prefer to play it safe. One time he caught her trying to feed her carrots to Tiramisu, insisting she was only sharing and not trying to foist off the responsibility of clearing her plate.
Asa, at his side and paying close attention, nods.
"And then, we fry'em up with the other veggies—you gettin' all this?"
"So far," she replies, diverting her gaze when Denji turns to meet her eyes. "I'll need to practice with chopping the vegetables."
He had seen for himself how clumsy she could be. Just two nights ago, when they rented some cheesy grindhouse flick that was bloody enough for Denji to ask Nayuta to vacate the room for, she'd managed to trip over Cream Puff and send the television remote soaring out of the window, an act that was followed by the shrill yowl of a seventy year old neighbor that Denji had to talk down while Asa waited around behind him, making faces and chewing her nails.
"Yup. You do suck at it." He brushes the finely sliced carrots across the cutting board, blade skimming millimeters from the wood, deft hands moving with a precision that Asa once said she never could've expected of him. The girl bristles at his comment on her poor knife skills, but opts not to comment on it as it was a losing battle to begin with. "Alright, next up's the meat."
When they're having dinner, Denji remembers the Makima hot pot. It only now occurs to him that the butchering of his former boss was a sort of proxy revenge for Aki. With every swipe of the knife, every wet tug of her flesh and fat scraped off her bones, he repeated each little lesson Aki had ever given him. How to debone a chicken. Where to find the chewy connective tissue that wouldn't cook right—stretching it taut, cutting it away, not sticking it between his teeth because meat-floss was unsanitary and dangerous.
Not that this makes any of it easier, but he gets a chuckle out of it. Maybe, on a good day, Aki might've found the humor in it, too. After being abjectly disgusted by the notion of butchering a humanoid devil's corpse, that is.
"Movie's not that funny," Nayuta asserts, glued to the television screen. Asa snorts.
He can't tell exactly when Asa become a regular at the dinner table, but he figures it must have something to do with the fact that he doesn't charge her for food. Part of him almost wants to, because buying groceries for three along with covering the rest of their household needs was beginning to wear on his funds, and it wasn't like the girl helped, but he's also pretty sure she'd never go on a date with him again if he did. At some point, he did feel the need to ask why she made such a habit of showing up at their apartment and helping herself to the contents of their pantry.
"I prefer your cooking to most," she told him once on the school rooftop, oddly candid after stuffing her face with the leftover tamagoyaki from that morning's breakfast. "The last time I ate anything home-cooked was before my parents died..." She trailed off, elbows pressed against the railing, head propped up on her hands. "I'm glad Nayuta has someone to make things for her. You're a good brother."
"Hells yeah I am," Denji said, chin up and arms akimbo, facing the city with a crooked grin. "She says my cooking's the best. "
She rolled her eyes at that, smiling all the same. "Sorry if I'm intruding, though. I can come less if you need me to—I guess I did forget you have a lot of expenses to think about..."
He waved her off. "Nah, s'fine. We like your company."
Unbeknownst to him, the statement makes her lips pinch and her cheeks burn a shade redder as she turns away. He just assumed she spotted some kind of colorful bug and decided it was more interesting than their conversation, which he could not blame her for. Colorful bugs are cool.
That night, while Denji's dumpster diving for electrical equipment he might be able to sell, he thinks about what he'll be making for dinner the next day. They're nearly out of groceries, and if he can't scrounge enough money out of his next few scams he won't be able to buy baking ingredients to reward Nayuta with sweets whenever she did well with her school assignments. He isn't even sure if they have enough non-perishables to hold them over for the next two weeks, if that. Worst case scenario, he'd have to ask Asa or Yoshida to bum him some cash but—God, he doesn't want to do that. It isn't like he's ever had trouble asking for handouts before. There's no reason to be prideful. But asking for help would mean admitting that he really can't make it on his own. Not in the way he wants to.
Maybe it's more selfish than it is noble, but he isn't going to rely on anyone else. Denji can put his faith in himself, for food and otherwise.
He's tossing aside a pile of garbage bags when he catches his reflection on something metallic. At first he hopes it might be something he can pawn off for a decent payout, but all it turns to be is an old spatula with a wooden handle, bent at the neck and unusable. Someone at a local restaurant must have been incredibly angry to have done something like that. He leans over to pick it up, the steel of the beveled edges catching the pale red light of a restaurant sign with a gleam.
As though his brain was a faulty lightbulb that had some life left in it, a spark cuts through the dark. He sits there, pensive, scrunching his face like he's having a particularly rough time in the bathroom and trying to force the idea to life for some time before finally, light fills the hollow interior of his mind. He smiles with jagged teeth, devil-heart swelling with a rush of enthusiasm and ambition. The best part of his plan, he had everything he needed.
Later, seven dogs, a cat, and a little girl crowd together around the kotatsu while Denji lays out a large sheet of paper, doodles and frantically scrawled words decorating the page edge-to-edge.
"Introducing to you... Chainsaw Meals!" he exclaims, pointing to a section of the sheet labeled 'Step 1.' Coupled with the title was a doodle of him behind something that looked vaguely like a stationary grill, a large and elaborate glowing sign hanging over him, colored in red. "The next big thing in Tokyo! Goretastic home-cooked meals brought to you by Chainsaw Man himself." He drags his finger across the page to where it says 'Step 2'; another doodle, this time of him in Chainsaw Man-mode, handing the first in a long line of customers a plate of miscellaneous food. "Fresh cooked meals, rippin' hot and ready to serve! The best you can get in the whole country!" Step 3—Chainsaw Man, Nayuta, all the dogs and Meowy are sitting atop a massive pile of money. "Then we get enough money to rent out a space for a restaurant, hire a couple people to man it, and then..." Step 4—Chainsaw Man is wearing a business suit, as is Nayuta. "Then we open up locations all across Japan, and then we got even more money, and don't even have to do the work! Free food forever, too!"
Nayuta stares at him, eyes owlishly wide. "Plan's awesome," she says, in breathless awe at her older brother's genius and excited by the prospect of free food forever.
"Right?!"
"I have to question the rationale behind the Chainsaw Man branding," Yoshida hedges, squinting as he tries to identify exactly what the drawing next to step three is supposed to be.
"Duh, 'cuz I'm Chainsaw Man." Denji crosses his arms. "Makes sense, right?"
"Yes, but no one is supposed to know that. We talked about this." Yoshida rolls the sheet back up, sliding it across the cafe's table. "Additionally, there are already who-knows-how many restaurants with Chainsaw Man branding and merchandise. You never did take legal action when it came to keeping that to yourself."
"Could totally sue'em for it first," Denji offers, "then have enough money to skip to step three."
Yoshida gives him a blank stare. "No, you could totally not. I encourage you deciding to start a business venture unrelated to devil hunting, and am even willing to help in any way I can, but I can't condone attaching this to your identity as Chainsaw Man. Find another name, or I'll have to stop this from happening."
Denji scoffs. "Fine. I'll think of something else..."
A pause. Sometimes Yoshida wonders if pressing his ear to Denji's head would allow him to hear the rumbling of a chainsaw when the boy thinks hard enough. It's a juvenile thought, but one he's considered entertaining more than once.
"...and we're calling it Hayakawa Eats," Denji finishes, gesturing towards Nayuta, who stands on a stool in front of the couch to present the stack of colorful cue cards illustrating their stellar business strategy.
Kishibe, who had grown increasingly amused with the whole scheme by the time Denji had gotten around to talking about advertising, leans his head back against the armrest to stare at the ceiling while his student waits for a response.
"I—It's a work in progress on the name," Denji admits. "But we're thinking you can be our first investor."
The old man sighs, fishing for a cigarette in his pocket before remembering he was actually trying to quit smoking for that week, as it was beginning to do a number on his cardio. "If you wanted money, you could have just started with that."
"Can you take your hands off my face now?" Asa asks for the fifth time, increasingly irate on their walk to whatever it is Denji was excited to show her. So excited that he had decided to cover her eyes about a block away from it, resulting in her tripping over herself and being caught in his arms three times. Yoru laughed at her each time.
"Nuh-uh, not till you're at the right angle. This' the best surprise ever, so you gotta wait!"
Another ten minutes of stepping around in the dark, apologizing each time her arm brushed another passerby, and he finally stops them at whatever arbitrary spot Denji insists is the right angle.
"Okay... You ready?"
"God, yes, let me see."
The blond boy's hands slide off her face and she is greeted with the blinding light of day, along with the sight of a large orange and black sign above an empty food cart that reads 'Hayakawa Eats.' She immediately notices, too, that it was stationed right around the corner from school.
Her jaw drops.
"Ta-dah!" Denji exclaims, whirling around to stand in front of her. "Pretty awesome, right?"
"Denji... How did... When did you—"
"Relative loaned us some cash for it! This way I can make money, go to school, and cook dinners for you and Nayuta!" He runs up to the cart, almost as giddy as he was to meet a penguin. "C'mon! We got menus inside—Nayuta helped me make'em!"
They climb inside the cart, Denji rummaging around while Asa stares at the interior with unrestrained shock. She tugs the handle of a refrigerator, finding within a hoard of labelled and organized selections of meat and vegetables serried in wrapped boxes, ready for use. The top of the grill was polished clean, though stains from years of use still lingered.
"Here we go, found one!"
He hands her a brightly colored single-page card, menu items arranged by price; hamburger, chicken curry, okonomiyaki. Everything she knows that Denji can make well and make quickly, listed neatly and professionally beneath an elaborate illustration of Denji smirking at the reader while holding a cast iron skillet, right in the middle of flipping an egg. Below that was a phone number for business inquiries, which Asa is fairly certain is just Yoshida's cell number.
"Nayuta drew the little me," he explains, leaning into her. "Dya' like it?"
"It's... How much did this all cost? Do—Do you know if you can even turn a profit?"
"Uh-huh. I got a totally awesome advertising plan to get the word out. And it involves you."
She raises an eyebrow, waiting for him to explain.
Denji flinches as another discarded soda can smashes against his forehead.
"No, no, no!" Asa says again, furiously stomping down the empty alleyway. "I refuse."
"C'mon! It's a great idea!" Denji insists, jogging after her. "I was just—it's more of a compliment than anything else! Honestly!"
"I am not doing that!"
"Just listen! I was thinking all night about what it is that'd get me to go to a food place! I was thinkin' something better than any competition! And it came to me!" He put a fist over his Pochita-heart, pounding his chest. "A real hot babe!"
"Shut up!"
"If I saw a super pretty girl eating outside a food cart, I'd totally wanna get food from there! It'll help us sell—you don't gotta do it for too long!"
"I can't believe you! I am not going to do something so—so—ugh!"
Denji and Nayuta wait patiently in the living room while Asa gets changed. She comes out of the bathroom eventually, wearing the expensive-feeling, trendy outfit Denji had spent an inordinate amount of the startup budget on.
She bristles when she catches that dopey, love-struck grin on his face.
"I'm doing this for Nayuta. That's it. Only for the first day."
Nayuta gives her two thumbs-up. "Woo-hoo," the little girl cheers, deadpan as ever.
The day of the Hayakawa Eats grand opening comes. Denji sets up shop after school, custom apron tied around his waist and decorative headband around his forehead. His grill is functioning, the food is well-stocked, and he's practiced making every single item on the menu twelve times over as he waited for this day to come. Now, all he has to do is stick to the script.
The ring of the bell breaks him from his thoughts. He looks down to meet Asa's eyes, lips curving into a smile as he catches the pronounced blush on her cheeks.
"What can I get for you today, super-pretty customer?!" he asks, speaking loud enough to be heard from across the road.
"Hmm!" Asa taps her index finger against her chin, reviewing her lines while glancing around to catch if they had caught anyone's attention yet. She pretends to read the menu pasted against the side of the cart before continuing. "I sure am hungry! I'll have an order of takoyaki, Hayakawa-style! And a crepe for my adorable little sister!"
Nayuta's small hand peeks over the cart window, fingers forming a peace sign.
"Coming right up! And congratulations on being the first customer at Hayakawa Eats. Where we've got the best meals in all of town."
"Yum! I just can't wait for my delicious crepe and takoyaki, which I can only get conveniently at Hayakawa Eats!"
A beat. Denji stands there, smiling dumbly at the pair of 'customers.'
"Denji," Asa whispers, "start cooking."
"Oh. Oh!" He picks up his tools and hastily gets the grill going. "Here goes!"
The smell of the food does more for the hungry citizens of the city than he could have ever imagined. As soon as Asa and Nayuta left, a second, actual customer came by and made an order. Then a third, whose order took enough time that a line consisting of four others started to form behind him. Some were students, others salarymen on their way home or to their offices for a night shift. Only a handful commented on the quality of the food—all compliments, thankfully, and he hoped that repeat business would speak for itself, too.
Late at night, just ten minutes after his last customer of the day, Denji falls into the chair he'd set up at the back of the cart and cracks his back, groaning at each satisfying pop. He lets himself enjoy the moment of quiet, gazing up at the ceiling and remembering that he would have to clean before closing up shop.
"You would've done it better, Aki," he murmurs, closing his eyes and allowing himself to drift off. Just for a moment.
In an event that'd become increasingly more common in the last few days, Denji returns home to find Asa fast asleep on their couch. Nayuta must have draped a blanket over her while he was gone. He leans down and pecks her forehead, watching her shuffle around for a moment before settling down again.
It's funny. For all the abject horror and strangeness of his life until now, he's somehow ended up here: coming home after a hard day's work to a girl he's in love with and a kid he's raising. Power would find his journey as a day-to-day worker of the common people to be revolting, and insist that he start slipping poison into the food to let the people know he's the one in control of their lives, or something equally psychotic but also kind of agreeable.
To his surprise, Asa's eyes flutter open, and he realizes he'd been sitting there staring at her for about five minutes.
"Oh." She sits up, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. The blanket slips off her and to reveal her in pajamas made up of one of his old shirts. "Hey. How'd it go?"
"Pretty awesome. Sorry for wakin' you."
"No worries. I put Nayuta to bed before—she really wanted to stay up and say hi to you."
"Aw." Denji leans back in his own seat, getting a bit more comfortable. "Y'know, if you ever fall asleep here again, you could just take my futon."
"Alright, thanks."
"...And then we could share—"
"Don't be gross."
Truth be told, Denji was beginning to find her baleful gaze cute, even if the way she stared at him whenever she employed it did work to intimidate him into shutting up.
"I wasn't gonna—"
"Don't. Be gross."
"Fiiiiine."
The camera shakes as the crew sprints past dust and debris, the scene growing more horrific as they approach their target.
"We are live on the scene reporting to you from Shimbashi, where Chainsaw Man has just finished engaging the Moon Devil in an incredible duel! Unlike most of his fights, he hasn't taken his leave yet, so we at TPN are going to try and get the first recorded interview with our country's beloved hero!"
The microphone pops as they walk up a pile of gore-drenched rubble that used to be a building, the camera zoning in on the bloody form of Chainsaw Man stood atop the massive round corpse of his latest victim. Shoulders slumped, steel-clad head pointed South like he's spotted something in the distance, but he hasn't yet made a move.
"Chainsaw Man! Chainsaw Man! I'm Kuroshima Airi with TPN, we're wondering if you have time for an interview."
The cameraman flinches as Chainsaw Man's head swivels around to face them, the light of the midday sun gleaming off the blades of his head-saw. He nods, eager.
"Oh—Oh my gosh! Thank you so much! Well, ah," the reporter seems surprised, though uneasy as she thinks for a moment. "Well, you're a devil, evidently, and yet you've decided to side with humanity. Without a contract with a private nor public devil hunter, or a known reason. So I suppose the question on everyone's mind is... Why, Chainsaw Man, have you decided to be a hero for the people of Tokyo?"
Chainsaw Man looks down, looking as pensive as a faceless hero can. Blood drips from the ends of his arm blades, and his breathing is still heavy from the frenzy of the fight.
"It's because..." Chainsaw Man starts, the reporter's breath hitching as they receive the first clear and audible recording of the hero's voice. "It's because I want to protect people. The people of my city. Their lives, and their rights to see their families, love their friends..." He stands up straight, the blade of his left arm retracting before he presses his closed fist against his heart. "And their right to a hearty meal at Hayakawa Eats!"
"Oh, uhm, is that—"
"Hayakawa Eats is only the absolute best food cart in the whole damn city! It's half the reason I get up in the morning! Every day I wake up looking forward to the best food at Hayakawa Eats! I bet it's what makes me so freakin' strong so I can kick devil ass all day long, and then when I'm done with that, go for a re-energizing dinner at Hayakawa Eats!"
The camera turns over to the interviewer, who looks confused, but still manages to plaster on an eager smile.
"Wow! Well, I'm sure the people are glad to know their hero eats something other than people! You heard it here first, folks, Chainsaw Man's favorite spot is—"
Chainsaw Man bursts into view, almost knocking the woman over with his bulk.
"Hell yeah! Located three blocks South of Fourth East High School, you can get the best damn meals at a reasonable price! They've got burgers, salads, curry, and more! Try their Hayakawa Style specials, you'll totally not regret it! Iiiiit's awesome!"
"Wonderful, now can we—"
"Oh, man. I gotta go," Chainsaw Man says, turning around and briskly jogging away from the scene, "and get in line early for Hayakawa Eeeeeeeeats!"
The reporter and cameraman stare dumbly as the hero disappears around a street corner before peeking around the side of a building and waving a final goodbye.
Asa sits idly by as she watches the entire Devil Hunter Club wolf down another one of Denji's patented "Thank-You Chainsaw Style Crazy Ass Devil Guts Noodles", unable to do anything to stop it.
"Oh, man, Seigi," Haruka calls over, "you gotta try the takoyaki. Just, wow. If I'd known that Hayakawa guy was such a good cook, I'd have invited him into the club to get us free meals!"
"Even Chainsaw Man loves it!" Furio adds, speaking with his mouth full and earning nothing but Asa's ire for the day. "You think we can meet him at the cart one day?"
"That would be incredible. Oh, Mitaka, are you going to finish that?"
She holds her arms astride the untouched Hayakawa Style Spicy Tamagoyaki and clenches her jaw so tight it might crack a tooth. "No," is all she says, making eye contact with the Denji stood back-to-back with Chainsaw Man that decorated the side of Furio's takeout box.
It's not that she isn't proud of him. She absolutely is. But if she had to hear about his stupid cart one more time, she might pop a blood vessel.
"Again," Yoru says, the sharp tingle in the back of Asa's head accompanying her cohabitant's voice, "food cart sword. That one could definitely kill Chainsaw Man."
She would feel guilty for depriving Denji of his business and the people of Tokyo their favorite eatery. But it might just be worth it.