Smoke

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Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: Chainsaw Man (Manga)
Relationship: Denji/Yoshida Hirofumi, Denji & Yoshida Hirofumi
Character: Yoshida Hirofumi, Denji (Chainsaw Man), Hayakawa Aki, Power
(Chainsaw Man)
Additional Tags: Past Character Death, Smoking, Angst, Character Study, Not Beta
Read
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2023-10-27 Words: 1,149 Chapters: 1/1

Smoke
by kiki_06

Summary

Yoshida finds Denji sitting around with a lit cigarette, but not smoking it. Intrigued,
Yoshida asks why.

Notes

A small angsty oneshot character study of these two. Hope u like <3

See the end of the work for more notes

Denji’s squatting down, in one of his hands a lit cigarette. Probably one of the ones he’s rolled
himself, to mark up and resell from dumpers. Not the most honorable line of work, but Yoshida
knows why he does it. It’s not like Yoshida can speak, his job is to literally invade the boy’s
privacy and essentially speaking; his entire life.

Somewhere along the line of keeping his eye on the infamous chainsaw man, he found himself
more and more intrigued. The boy is full of surprises. He also surprisingly, has a heart full of love.
Yoshida has taken a liking to him, as much as he’s unwilling to admit considering Denji has an
array of distasteful characteristics. He’s unkempt, he’s wild, he’s rowdy, he’s rude, he’s not
properly educated. His hair is wild, his clothes are wrinkly, and he smells like dog, and cigarettes.
And despite it all, Yoshida likes him. He likes him more and more everyday, despite everything.
Yoshida was sure Denji didn’t smoke, but recently he’s now found out the reason why. Nearly
everyday, Denji crouches down in an alley somewhere, and lights a single cigarette, and lets it burn
to its end completely. Without ever pressing it in between his lips and breathing in a single inhale
of smoke.

And he sits with a somber look on his face. For approximately ten minutes, he goes entirely silent.
It’s one of the few times he ever sees Denji have a quiet moment all to himself.

And Yoshida really wants to know why.

And he decides today might be the day of all days he’ll intrude.

Yoshida appears from the corner, from where he’s kept an eye on him.

Denji doesn’t seem to raise his head in recognition of his presence at all.

He walks right up to him, and hovers over him by his side.

“Whaddya want?” By the tone of his voice he seems annoyed, and his eyes remain fixed on the
cigarette.

Yoshida ignores his antagonism, donning a friendly smile on his face, “I thought we were friends
Denji, aren’t you happy to see me?”

Sarcasm hangs heavy in his voice as he retorts, “Haha.”

Undeterred, Yoshida persists, “Can I sit here?”

“Do what you want.”

The hostility isn’t a surprise, but Yoshida would be lying if he said it didn’t hurt.
Yoshida takes a seat on the curb next to Denji. He watches the cigarette burn with Denji. Smoke
wafts up in ribbons, the smell of potent nicotine and ash fills his nose. There is something about
cigarette smoke that is so foul smelling; truly the smell of death. He wonders why people would
ever smoke at all. Growing up beside Kishibe’s side since he was a child; the combined smell of
whiskey and nicotine that stained his clothes and breath was nauseating until he grew used to it.
And most of the public safety devil hunters, he could safely say they all inhaled more nicotine than
oxygen in their lives.

He would watch their faces as they would breathe it in, their faces immediately relaxing as relief
would wash over them. He determined that was in fact why; but regardless, the smell is fucking
terrible.

So he wonders why Denji doesn’t even smoke it; just allows it to burn, the awful smell filling up
their nostrils. It’s all the bad and none of the good.

Yoshida breaks through the silence, and asks him, “Can I ask you something Denji?”

Denji replies, “Sure.” The once hostility in his voice, dissipated.

He can finally receive the answer to the question that’s plagued him for so long.

“Why-”

Denji interrupts him, “Why do I light it but not smoke it? Is that what ya want to ask me?”

He finally looks over at Yoshida, as the cigarette nears towards the end of its life.

“Yes.”

“I dunno. I did it one time, but now I keep doing it. I think it’s ‘cause the smell is… comforting.
Which is weird I know, and I think…” He trails off, wondering if he should keep speaking.
Yoshida doesn’t say anything, in hopes to provide him the room to continue speaking. To let him
know he is intently listening.

And to his relief, he does continue speaking.

“I think the smell is comforting… because it reminds me of someone I used to know.”

The answer knocks the wind out of Yoshida’s chest. Because of course, his mind flashes back to
the devil hunter with the top knot ponytail, who when not in the field with his sword in hand,
almost always had a cigarette instead. He remembers they were close. And if he remembers
correctly, they lived together. But he’s dead. The girl with the pink hair and the horns too, and the
loud, ill-mannered attitude. She's dead too.

And what usually would be a terrible stench, the smell offers Denji solace. The small time he takes
to himself almost everyday with the cigarette is grieving, in silence, with one of the only few things
he has to attach himself to his lost friend.

Yoshida feels his chest tighten.

“I see…”

Yoshida’s normally more well-equipped to deal with grievance, he’s normally more eloquently
spoken. But for the first time in a long while, he’s at a loss for words.

He looks away, and stares at the brick wall ahead of him. The silence between them feeling
weighty.

Grief and Yoshida are like oil and water. He’s never been one to stew in his emotions. With the
fact that when left at Kishibe’s disposal, he became one of the most efficient killing machines
Public Safety could ask for.

Point being, he’s never allowed himself to, he’s shielded his heart from it. He brushes off death
like it’s lint off his shoulder. When he washes the blood from his hands and clothes, he watches as
red swirls into a vortex into the drain, his fears and despondancy washing away with it, starting
anew.
From the corner of his eye, he notices the light from the cigarette is completely gone, along with
the smoke.

Denji drops it, and stomps it out.

“Thanks.”

Yoshida looks at Denji in surprise. “For what?”

“Listening. It was nice… To get that off my chest.”

Yoshida’s lips curl upwards, a smile that feels more genuine then the other times he’s ever smiled,
“Anytime.”

Denji gets up and brushes himself off, and extends a hand to Yoshida.

Yoshida feels his heart flip, as he takes his hand into his own and allows Denji to help him up.

“Thank you.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t get used to it. Stalker.”

Back to his usual self it seems. Which is all things considered, a good thing. It might mean he’s
cheered up.

“Are you busy? We can go get something to eat.”

Denji, never one to turn down the offer of food, agrees, “Sure. But ‘yer paying.”

“Of course. My treat.”

End Notes

first yoshiden posted! woot

I have a few other drabbles sitting around that I need to get around to finishing. This is
definitely one of the smaller ones which is why I'm posting this one and not the others. I
love these two so much

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