[ everything felt like a fever dream— from the moment they stepped onto the aircraft, to the long, disorienting journey to iraq, and now, finding themselves in this bizarre underworld tangled with all kinds of fucked-up things. every step forward weighed heavily on his chest, dread creeping in like venom through his veins. it wasn’t just uncomfortable, it was suffocating. he could already tell this was more than a typical kaiju fight. denji had a terrible feeling gnawing at his gut the entire time, reaching a peak before dulling into an aching numbness that settled deep in his bones. the rift side effects are kicking in.
then he saw tsurumaru in the chaos. a familiar figure, yet almost unrecognizable. denji didn’t like the expression on his face; it was too cold, too sharp, and worst of all, it was hostile. directed at him. ah. it was happening again, wasn’t it? the fragile sense of family he’d managed to build in this city was crumbling. first tsurumaru, and now, he could already see it: bakugou’s fate would follow, maybe even worse.
they stood across from each other. tsurumaru’s sword was raised, aimed squarely at him, ready to strike. in contrast, denji’s shoulders were slouched, his chainsaw blades dormant. his stance held no threat—no intention to fight back.]
... You ... hate me now? [ his voice didn't reflect despair exactly— just stunned. quiet, like something cracking from the inside. ]
2
then he saw tsurumaru in the chaos. a familiar figure, yet almost unrecognizable. denji didn’t like the expression on his face; it was too cold, too sharp, and worst of all, it was hostile. directed at him. ah. it was happening again, wasn’t it? the fragile sense of family he’d managed to build in this city was crumbling. first tsurumaru, and now, he could already see it: bakugou’s fate would follow, maybe even worse.
they stood across from each other. tsurumaru’s sword was raised, aimed squarely at him, ready to strike. in contrast, denji’s shoulders were slouched, his chainsaw blades dormant. his stance held no threat—no intention to fight back.]
... You ... hate me now? [ his voice didn't reflect despair exactly— just stunned. quiet, like something cracking from the inside. ]