I would like to preface this work by stating an obvious disclaimer: this fictional work is not canon and does not truly follow the events that which are the starting point to the work, nor does it stay entirely in line with the rationale and motives of the characters. It is highly recommended that one should read the Chainsaw Man manga, especially the final arc of the story (chapters 84-92 specifically). Otherwise, this works will contain spoilers for those who have yet to read Chainsaw Man up until the point specified, or for those who have only watched the anime, but have not read the manga.
See to the end of the chapter for more exposition that contains spoilers.
The soles of her only pair of shoes were wearing thin as she raced down the concrete sidewalk. Already had the fight between the titans begun, a clash of thunderous concussions that rumbled the ground and shook her nerves. The tart, stale air was burning her lungs, and the button-up uniform was itchy against her sweaty skin.
Kobeni Higashiyama kept up her frantic pace, having picked a direction to steer from the battle and running with all her heart could take. The tears were still falling, their presence felt as they cooled on her flustered cheeks; no-doubt she was red with exertion, but she couldn't stop, she couldn't let his efforts be in vain.
Makima was right, when she had spoken those terrible words. The implication in them was more than enough to hear, even after her explanation on the collective terror of what Chainsaw Man had been, of how he was seen in the eyes of the public. The tearing of his flesh, the profuse bleeding of his incarnation had been so clear to what the Control Devil had meant.
You have a great deal to do with this too, Kobeni.
It wasn't her fault that he was not feared by Man, not anymore. His power shrunk with every smile, with every cry of joy. His own heroism was his greatest weakness.
It couldn't be her fault, it couldn't. It couldn't be—
And when Makima had pulled forth the Angel's spear of decay and gave him a choice, he chose the last good act of faith he could spare and had saved Kobeni from an assured death. Now, she ran, for she could not let this act be done in vain.
A great rumble sounded off in the distance. When she passed the towering structures and ran into the open intersection, she looked up and saw the inner section of a skyscraper implode in a great plume of dust and sparkling shards of glass. The towering structure behind this skyscraper suffered the same fate, as well as the one thereafter.
The destruction would be absolute, a wholesale obliteration of the surrounding buildings. She doubled her efforts, heart pounding under her ribs as she booked it further down the street.
Captain Kishibe and the rest of what remained of Division Four were somewhere within the premises. She knew the old man was not driven by Makima's commands, but it would first predicate on Kobeni finding him before she does. While Makima may have hundreds of puppets chained to her will, it couldn't mean that everyone was under the spell of control.
That had to be right. It had to be—
A bustle of movement came from across the street. Kobeni's eyes snapped to the source, a clamor of civilians that were huddled behind a few cars along the side of the road.
They began shouting, and when she slowed down to hear, she made out their words and felt herself grow cold with dread.
"Hurry miss, over here! Get to cover while you can!"
She ignored them, nearly tripping as she started to run again. The ground was rumbling ever so.
"Miss, please!" and from her peripheral, a husband and wife dared to sprint over to intercept, "It's too dangerous to be out there, stop running!"
"Leave me alone, get back—!"
A sudden tremor came, and Kobeni was thrown to the ground. A hideous shriek of metal, a cacophony of noise roared in her ears, and the world was reduced to the cold oblivion of concrete. Her face scrapped against the rough surface as the sky fell down onto her, where images of glass shards and heavy beams of rusty metal would dare to crush her to a pulp. Dust was everywhere, and she was coughing more than she was crying.
Darkness descended in a dramatic fashion, then relinquished its control almost immediately, as Kobeni sluggishly crawled back on her feet, and looked to where those people had been.
She saw the arm first. Cut at the elbow, though it wasn't clean. The shredded muscle tissue led to the rest of the carcass, with a jagged slab of concrete and rebar embedded in their abdominal cavity, as though their innards had been hastily spooned out. The other poor soul beside them had taken a long piece of wood through the side and had half their entire head sliced open from the impact of a mangled metal beam.
And when she turned her eyes away and looked around her in shock, Kobeni had the faintest realization: the debris of the structure she had been running alongside had fallen outwards into the street. She would have perished along with them, had she heeded their pleas.
They're still dead, all because of you.
The cries of children and other souls barely reached her ears, as she coughed the dust out her system, and began running, her tears silently streaking down her face.
It was only after a dozen more blocks did she tucker out, and stumbled into the recesses of an alleyway that was cluttered with the mess of a late afternoon rush. Some of the food stands had been trampled over, many of the goods now littered the passageway, smacking against her shoes as she shuffled through. Her head was swaying tiredly, guiding her this way and that, no longer pointing to any direction but driven by desperation all the same.
She collapsed at the foot of a small convenience store, her hands bracing the fall as she curled up on the ground and sobbed.
Everything hurt. Her eyes still stung from the flecks of dust, her elbows ached from bracing her fall. Kobeni could almost taste the blood boiling under her skin, boiling and bubbling and bursting with fright as her body convulsed, and she hacked up whatever remained of the ice cream still stewing in her stomach. How comforting it was, to know it still tasted like nothing.
A moment came to be, once she wiped the sparse vomit with her sleeve, when she looked up from her sorry state to the high-rises still standing.
It was quiet now. The streets were dead silent. No chainsaws could be heard, no resounding bangs and no great thwums, nor groaning of metal under pressure. The fight was over, it seemed.
But who won? Did anyone win, if at all?
Kobeni pulled herself from her slump. Slowly this time—the soles of her shoes were thinned out, and a stinging pain crept at her every step forwards. Forwards she went, to somewhere that was safe.
Somewhere safe.
She imagined a peaceful place, a small village like where her distant relatives lived in up north. She remembered the time when she was young, of the way the snow fell, how it would rise to just above her head. How her brother and her would team up against the rest of the sisters she had in snowball fights. She remembered evening suppers with her outspoken uncle and aunt, and the wild stories they used to tell.
She wanted to go there. She wanted to go home.
"To go home," a voice called.
She stopped. The air was suddenly frigid, brittle. Kobeni's hands shook, as did rest of her body, as she turned to look over her shoulder.
The Control Devil sat there, at a table no less than a handful of steps away. There laid not a single drop of blood on her shirt, nor on her dress pants and tie. Those golden eyes of hers were staring, glowing.
"…isn't that what you want? To go home?" Makima asked her again. Her head was tilted, as though curious.
Kobeni looked away. Sweat rolled down her brow like a cascade. However long she thought she could last, however long she could maintain the efforts of all the people who've helped her, who had saved her from assured death—it mattered no more.
"…you should not feel bad. You've done a great service, being here. Being alive, despite everything. You might as well have handed Chainsaw Man to me on a silver platter—"
There was a butcher's stand, about an couple steps away. A knife, its blade buried in a wooden cutting board, could be seen there. All it'd take is a mad dash for it, assuming Makima wanted to close the distance. Not a single moment could be wasted.
"So, I thank you, Kobeni, for all you've done. You've helped me the most, truly, out of all the agents in Division Four. I'd like to repay you, if you don't mind."
Makima stood up.
A flurry came and went as the knife was pulled from the wood, and Kobeni backed away, wide eyes zeroed on the red head across from her.
"Don't—p-please."
The dimness of the light in this alleyway made the glow of those golden abysses more prominent, but still Kobeni backed away, the blade held in her white-knuckled grip. Every step back was slow, and clumsy.
Makima did not follow her. Kobeni stopped and held her ground then, knowing full well she could not hope to win this fight. The space between them would do for now, but she had to get away.
"I want to give you a chance. You've shown how useful you can be," the words were smooth as a lullaby, as though tickling her ears, "Give in, and I will make you my personal servant. I will remove your debts, I will give you all that you desire, and then some."
She'll kill you. You know too much.
Despite the temptation, Kobeni shook her head, silently refusing.
Makima's brow scrunched ever the slightest. A hand came up, and with it, Kobeni's only cue to duck.
She was agile. It was a trait she inherited from her mother's side of the family, all of whom had been practitioners and athletes to varying degrees. A trait that was reinforced by a measly devil contract, but it had served her when she needed it. Dodging the sudden tackle from two of Control's puppets, Kobeni slid between them, the knife slicing their flesh faster than they could blink.
Another one came from behind, a bit delayed from his companions, but that did not stop her from burying the blade into his side. As he doubled over, Kobeni rotated around him, tugging the knife out and giving him a kick to the back of his supporting knee, sending the body the ground.
A heavy, anguished sigh spilled from her lips, as blood now speckled her shirt and apron. She then looked back to Control but saw a dozen more souls instead. All of them had the suits and ties of Public Safety, all had the same blank expressions.
"I gave you a chance, Kobeni."
Frightened eyes looked to where those three puppets had appeared, and there stood Makima, surrounded by more of her thralls.
"I reached out my hand to you, and you decided to tear my generous offer apart."
There were too many. She could be quick, but it didn't matter if her knife was going against a wall of flesh. Not even her contract would save her this time.
"Now, you've given me no choice."
The dozens of them surged forward like tidal waves, with their point of convergence centered where Kobeni stood. Though tears pricked her eyes, she at least had the strength to raise the knife to meet their attack. Her own cry of fright was swallowed before it could be heard.
A/N - This work is a non-linear representation of the events that transpire in chapters 84-92 of the canon manga. Following the events of chapter 85, there is supposed to be an crucial confrontation between Chainsaw Man and Makima, along with those who are under her control. This story rearranges a specific scene from Chapter 89 after this confrontation, to instead occur before any fighting commences between Chainsaw Man and Makima. After this, the story follows the author's interpretations over what would happen in this alternate scenario.
Feel free to leave a comment about the work, and I'll see whether or not to make something more out of what's already written. - MB