Chapter 14
After cleaning the floor, Denji sorted out all the manga Power had gotten dirty—planning to buy them later.
"Hm, let me see… I think these were the ones she liked?"
He picked out the titles Power had enjoyed most, then added a few more that matched her taste.
"Mm~ This should be enough. Can always buy more next time!"
While Denji muttered seriously to himself, picking with genuine care, Power's voice came out strangely hesitant from the other side:
"H-Human… you've now earned the right for this great one to remember your name. Be honored! State it!"
"Denji."
He answered casually, then handed over the ID badge Makima had given him—his name clearly printed on it.
Finally done.
He bagged the manga and lifted it with one hand.
Then he extended the other toward Power—pointing one finger at the badge in her grip, then opening his palm expectantly.
Power blinked at the gesture. Some mischievous idea flickered in her mind. Instead of handing it over, she quickly stuffed the badge into her own pocket.
Then—chin raised proudly, sharp little jaw tilted—she placed her small hand in his.
As if to say: "Since you begged so sincerely, this great one shall graciously accept!"
…Or something like that.
Denji's hand flipped in one smooth motion—slap, redirect, open palm again—shutting down her smug moment completely.
Power puffed her cheeks, fished the badge out of her pocket, and slapped it into his hand with exaggerated force.
"Hmph!"
The dissatisfaction escaped as a tiny huff.
She hugged Meowy tighter and turned away, pointedly refusing to look at him.
Denji wiped the badge clean and pocketed it.
He simply didn't trust Power's ability to keep track of important things. Losing the ID would be a hassle—he didn't want unnecessary drama.
So, sorry, Power—tough luck.
Denji closed his eyes, nodded to himself, and savored the brief rush of smug self-satisfaction.
It didn't last long. Back to reality.
He carried the bag to the counter to pay.
The old man quoted a very reasonable price.
Denji rounded up generously and added:
"No change needed. Thanks for everything today."
"Heh heh~"
The old man smiled kindly, accepted the money, then slipped the romance manga he'd set aside earlier—along with Denji's previous deposit—into the bag.
"This one's on the house, young man. You should study what's inside. Don't leave your girlfriend waiting so long next time."
Before Denji could respond—
The word "girlfriend" triggered Power's rebellious instincts. She opened her mouth on reflex—
"This great one isn't—"
Her voice started tiny—barely audible—before Denji cut in smoothly.
"Yeah, ran into a little trouble today. Won't happen again."
Power glanced at him. Only then did she notice the fine web of wounds across his body. Her blood-sensitive senses picked up how much weaker his aura felt compared to before.
Whatever thought crossed her mind, she swallowed the retort.
When Denji's gaze turned her way, she averted her eyes with a small huff and shifted behind him—hiding from view.
Denji didn't mind. He turned back to the old man with his usual polite smile, lifted the bag, and prepared to say goodbye.
Until—
A slender, soft little hand suddenly slipped into the empty space between his loosely curled fingers.
It poked experimentally a few times—clumsy, hesitant—before finally threading through the gaps.
Denji's surprise quickly melted into quiet excitement and warmth. He closed his hand around hers in response.
Their fingers intertwined secretly.
The formulaic smile on Denji's face gained a touch of genuine softness.
After bidding the old man farewell, the two left the manga shop hand in hand.
On the way back, they ran into the same group of street punks from earlier.
The gang had grown—clearly out for revenge.
Who were they looking for…?
Denji patted his bulging wallet.
Obviously me. They must want to "donate" more cash.
Heh~
He walked right up to them.
A short while later, his wallet was even fuller—and a certain alley contained a pile of beaten, debuffed trash.
Denji and Power walked all the way back to Tokyo Public Safety HQ.
Makima's office.
Knock knock.
"Come in."
The first thing Denji noticed wasn't Makima—
It was the short-ponytail figure with a sword on his back, facing away from them.
Aki…
He didn't do anything dramatic.
Just—while walking toward Makima—tilted his head and gave Aki several curious glances, putting on a small show of "recognition."
Power, meanwhile, stayed glued behind Denji. Aside from their clasped hands, all her attention was on the cat in her arms~
Makima observed the trio with calm, unreadable eyes, then spoke slowly:
"This is Hayakawa Aki. Your senior by three years."
"Normally, on your first day, he would have taken you out on patrol to learn the ropes."
Aki's posture didn't shift at all—from the moment Denji entered, he'd remained standing at rigid attention, hands behind his back.
Denji said nothing. He simply stared at Aki's back—until Aki finally turned his head slightly, expression blank but clearly conveying "What are you looking at?"
Only then did Denji furrow his brow, mouth twitching in exaggerated disbelief.
On the surface: shocked.
Inside: laughing. Aki's still the same old Aki. Good.
Makima continued, unfazed by the little moment.
"But given the urgency, we assigned you a real mission on day one. You handled it perfectly—consider the probation passed."
"For small-scale missions and patrols, Public Safety pairs agents for safety. Since your compatibility seems good, Power will be your permanent partner from now on… Any objections?"
Very democratic—actually asking our opinion (heh)
While Denji mentally teased, a small, cautious voice came from behind him.
"I… this great one is willing."
Denji glanced back. Power's fear of Makima was obvious—voice trembling with panic—but underneath lay a faint thread of certainty… and hope.
He couldn't read her mind completely. But he felt her grip tighten—wet, fever-hot—and saw the pleading look in her eyes.
His heart softened.
He turned back to Makima and answered seriously:
"I fully recognize Power's talent. With our teamwork, we'll make the 'ultimate duo'!"
The shift—from dead earnest to bold confidence—was magnetic.
Even Aki—previously dismissive—couldn't help glancing sideways at Denji.
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