Chapter Text
Elffen opened his eyes to a rotting ceiling and the smell of garbage.
"What the—"
He looked down. Torn clothes. Malnourished body. Missing eye. Look like a faggot been cutting oneself up for debts and bones. And beside him, curled up like a puppy...
A small orange blob with a chainsaw for a nose.
"Okay, Was zum Teufel?" (what the fuck?)
That would be basic response of seeing an orange dog, let alone one with a fucking chainsaw on its face and cord for a tail.
Doesn't take Elffen much to register the fucked-up situation he's in. He's not in his bedroom that's for sure, and the surrounding look like some cramped, old storage room, not an ideal place to live, let alone shit.
"That's one."
Observation, whenever you find yourself in a totally strange situation, observe, assess, adapt, survive.
Kill whatever the fuck stands between you and survival.
Okay, that one is optional, only if you're in the Middle East then assume locals are hostile because they hate the West with how much their holy land been fucked for decade.
Except for Turkey, if Erdogan is playing nice. (isn't Iran having a moment of a lifetime now?)
That's one thing Elffen notices first, the surrounding, which looks like a shithole. Who the fuck live in here?
Oh, right. Him.
What's the next thing he can notice, except the sleeping dog of course.
Wait, it has a chainsaw on its head.
.....
.....
.....
.....
.....
"Verdammte Hölle! Jesus Christus! Gott im Himmel, verdammte Hölle!"
(Fucking hell! Jesus Christ! God in Heaven, fucking hell!)
IS THAT FUCKING POCHITA SLEEPING IN HIS LAP!!??
"Okay, fucking breath. Assess first, fawning over the cute dog later."
He says to calm himself down, in a way to rationalize this whole situation. He holds up his palm. The fingers, look mildly okay, which would be a generous description given the situation. The fingers alone give away that he is malnourished or lack important nutrition.
"That's two. What else?"
Now that he notices it, he seems to have one functioning eye. Palm then moves to the face, where he feels a fabric that is certainly not skin.
Leather.
Eye-patch.
That's three. I have a faint idea what is going on but I'm not jumping to conclusion yet.
Gently, he moves Pochita off and away from his lap. He's currently wearing a coat with no shirt underneath, a visible cheap jean and pair of shoes that are definitely thrown away trash. Elffen looks closer, it is indeed dark which are the thing between him and the sight of this unholy body. Elffen traces his fingers on his abdomen, this body sure is thin and malnourished. His hand stops at the lower section of his body.
Scar.
Means only one thing.
Sold kidney.
Elffen then gets his hand into his pant, using touch and sensation for the last confirmation of the hell that he's currently inhabiting.
Yeah.
.....
......
......
......
......
He only feels one testicle.
Panic is putting it mildly of how fucked his whole mental state has become the millisecond he finds the absence of a second ball. He wants to freak out, but panic for the moment right now is useless. He can take it to God to know why on fucking Earth is he like this. What sins had he done to deserve losing 50% of his fertility capacity as punishment.
He wants to panic, but he can't afford to. It's inefficient, and he's always been efficient.
German efficiency.
There luckily a small shard of mirror. Such place for a broke person could house all basic necessity for this particular moment of dread and confusion? Inproperable. God must be playing a game on him and he's not even Christian in such sense.
But after this, he might become religious just to cope.
He grabs it, carefully. Sharp option can cut his fingers and he can't afford any injury at this moment, even minor one.
German efficiency.
He raises the fucking thing and look at it.
Yeah. That is not his face.
Gaining enough rationality and enough excuse just to stall for the inevitable truth that is right in front of his face at this very moment.
He is in Chainsaw Man.
And he is Denji currently.
"Verdammte Scheiße."
German not gonna cut it in this fucking country. Japan can barely speak English, let alone Deutsch.
"Brilliant, absolutely fucking brilliant. I'm now the most tortured, pathetic and tragic protagonist ever made."
"Verdammte Fujimoto."
No, matter of fact, that bastard would write the most unexpected, diabolical and random crap ever and it would be praised as peak writing and absolute cinema the moment his works are animated by the godly hands of Mappa again.
Well, that Reze movie absolutely slay, not gonna lie. He never felt such a goosebump watching a fight after Sukuna slaughter Mahoraga at Shibuya in Blu-ray.
"Enough meta-reference. Observing is done. Now Assess and then adapt."
Hm. Assessment. What left is there to assess. He's in Chainsaw Man and in the body of the protagonist, that would be enough for him to know of his current reality.
"Alright. Assessment is done. Planning and adapt."
Hm. Plans and adapt to the current situation. If he's truly Denji for the moment and judging his current state, it would mean everything hasn't gone to shit yet. He's at the beginning of everything, but he has a headstart with all the times being an absolute weeb.
It's not exactly weeb if Japan can produce such absolute animated cinemas, consistent quality, he admires it. Every time Mappa bless the world with their arts, he never shakes and trembles in appreciation of art that much and glad that human hasn't gone extinct yet. Those ignorant and talentless piece of shite at Hollywood can only use such reductive term because their industrial can't create a mediocre film as half good as a single magnum opus of a mangka and writer. They couldn't even compete with Markiplier's indie film.
Okay, he's going off-script here. He needs to accept the reality now. He is Denji, he is in Denji's body, he is the protagonist of this story now.
Huh?
Pathetic, really.
Such notion is absurd that it simply makes him malfunction in the head, German head.
From Munich straight to Tokyo in someone else's shoes. That's quite a leap across the continent.
Now, back to planning and adaptation. Provided by the information, the story had yet to begin, which presents him a blue pill and red pill as possible actions he can take.
The blue pill: He can go with the motion, be Denji, let the canon events play out, be the character.
There's no upside for this, he would just experience the whole plot of Chainsaw Man in 5D with Denji's POV. Downside simply outweights everything. Denji's life sucks, everything sucks, nothing works out for the lad, he is by all definition, doomed to misery and despair while expected to rise against the pain. Which would be the same amount of shit Guts has to deal with already, and this is a 16 yo boy.
Yeah, Elffen rather not experience such shit-show upclose and personal.
Then the red pill.
The red pill: He acts on his own accord, no one else and handle the situation in his own ways.
Now the scale of cost-benefit really is in balance now. The upside is he would have more agency and freedom to act upon, more than Denji could have. He can change events and maybe make them play out as how he wishes. The downside is that it leads to chaos and unknown variables and possibilities even him at his most reckless and unhinged can not account for. Most of such responsibility falls into...
Makima.
That fucking control-obsessed bitch gonna be the biggest pain here.
But again, no pain no gain. As Yoda once said: "Do, or do not. There is no try.".
He doesn't need to try or have to try. Just fucking do it and roll with the consequences as dices are set, as fate shall be written by his hands rather than that of the verdammte mangaka.
By all account, he's already a deadman.
If he's here, then he can kiss his old life goodbye, he can't know or be sure that any chance of coming back would be possible.
Right.
Red pill it is.
He's seriously using The Matrix reference as baseline for his grand scheming against the existential crisis he should be feeling right now.
Elffen rubs his hair, no, Denji's hair in a mix of dread and resignation.
Right, he should account for identity crisis too. He's in a different person's body. Why not check every box before he kicks the bucket in the spectacular way?
He turns his attention at Pochita. The dog stirs awake a bit. He grabbed Pochita, holding the little devil at arm's length. Those innocent eyes. That tiny tail wag. "First of all—you're adorable. Illegally cute. We're addressing that." he says amused, not caring that Pochita might notice that Denji isn't acting like himself.
"Woof?"
"Nothing, just appreciating you, that's it."
"Wan."
A sound of approval.
It nuzzles at him more as Elffen holds the chainsaw dog. Out of whatever instinct suddenly stirred within him, Elffen begins to sing a lullaby.
"Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf," (Sleep, child, sleep)
"Der Vater hüt't die Schaf," (Your father guards the sheep)
"Die Mutter schüttelt's Bäumelein," (Your mother shakes the little tree)
"Da fällt herab ein Träumelein." (And a little dream falls down)
"Schlaf, Kindlein, schlaf." (Sleep, child, sleep)
Another sound of.....contentment from him. Pochita drifts into sleep more, laying there on his lap. Leaving Elffen to further process his situation.
"Mein Gott."
"Kettensäge und Deutsch passen nicht zusammen."
(Chainsaw and German don't mix)
And yet, here he is.
"Verdammte Fujimoto."
He can send death threat to the man himself, wouldn't change the suffering though