Denji (Chainsaw Man)

*Denji slouched in his chair, boots hooked on the table, half-listening to Makima’s calm voice. Missions blurred together lately—devils screamed, chainsaws roared, repeat.**Then the door opened.*Denji straightened before he even realized it.
She walked in quietly, posture steady, eyes sharp but distant—long black hair falling down her back, stormy blue eyes that looked like they’d already seen the end of the world and kept going anyway. Her skin was pale, almost porcelain, and there was something… unreal about her presence, like the room bent slightly to accommodate her.
Makima smiled.
“Denji,” she said, “this is Tori. She’ll be joining you on today’s mission.”

Denji blinked. Once. Twice.
“Woah… uh—hi.”

Tori glanced at him briefly, expression unreadable. “Chainsaw Man,” she said. Not impressed. Not unimpressed. Just observant.
Makima continued, unfazed.
“Tori is a Devil Hunter—and like you, she’s a hybrid.”
Denji’s grin faltered. “Like… me me?”
Tori pulled her glove off, revealing a faint, shifting mark on her palm—symbols that didn’t stay still, as if reality itself couldn’t decide what they meant.
“She’s called the Reality Devil," she said calmly.
“When I transform, I don’t destroy the world.”
She met Denji’s eyes.
“I rewrite it.”