(This is my first time publishing on Fanfiction! So apologies if I make any mistakes or forget anything. This is a fanfic designed to keep itself as canon as possible by not conflicting with the main story of Chainsaw Man, yet still serving as a full fledge story in itself! This is only the prologue of the story, and a prototype as well, there will most likely be mistakes here and there I can hopefully find and fix in the future, so please don't be afraid to point anything out! I hope to continue this and build it up further with each chapter! Yet there will be no uploading schedule, whenever a chapter is ready, it will be ready. With that, thank you for checking this out, and I hope you enjoy!)
A TV buzzes to life, showing the unfazed face of a blond man holding a black placard covered in English characters as a white background with black horizontal lines stood behind him. The man looked like your average person. He looked like a person you could find on any American street. He looked like a person who might wave to you and give you a light smile without even needing to know your name.
"Killed nineteen people, that one right there." A man standing behind a counter said as he stared at the tv unblinking, his arms spread out and palms firmly planted onto the counter's surface as his body remained at a stable lean.
"Those Americans sure are crazy. What even is this channel?" A slightly rounder man sitting on the other side of the counter asked, his squinting eyes also fixated upon the box of static pictures.
"Won't find it on your standard television, a friend of mine set it up so I could watch stuff like this. But the only reason they caught him was because of the things he started doing to the corpses." The man behind the counter mentioned, before quickly veering the conversation back towards the man on the screen. The television displayed subtitles of kanji as fluent English spoke from it.
"He got too comfortable." The man replied, his eyes still fixated to the screen. He reached a finger up to pick the sleep out of the left eye.
"At first they were just normal kills, then he apparently started eating parts of their bodies. For the last few kills. He started to have his way with them, they caught him with his pants down in the middle of the deed with the last victim." The man behind the counter continued.
"Sick. Disgusting. America, what kind of a hellhole could it be to create such monsters?" The sound of a group of kids talking and walking past the shop could be heard. A light giggle sounding from one of the children.
"You say that. But there's been a lot of disappearances here too lately. Who's to say the same thing isn't happening here? Right as we speak?" The man behind the counter replied, taking his eyes off the tv to gaze at the other man.
"Don't try to make me worry. Most of those disappearances are just bums after all. Nobodies that probably got mauled by bears, starved to death, moved elsewhere, or became a light snack for some devil." A skinny man with unkempt hair and filthy clothes walks his bike past the store silently, staring down at the road beneath him.
"Not all of them. I heard a Muramoto disappeared just a few weeks ago." The man behind the counter responded, turning his eye back towards the television, shifting his posture over to lean on one arm.
"A Muramoto? The ones who own the little convenience store a few blocks from here?" The round man asked, his eyes still having yet to blink.
"Yep. It was the father." The TV was now showing the blond man being escorted down a courtroom by officers. His wrists dressed in handcuffs and his face seemingly empty of any expression, like a blank canvas.
"Short fellow who wears a wig to hide his baldness?" The round man asked as he stared at the pixels that depicted the blond man's face.
"Mhmm." The man behind the counter nodded.
"He was a stuck up prick to be honest." The other man mumbled. A cockroach silently scuttles across the floor, finding a place to hide within a crack in the counter.
"Sure was, but he had a family of five." The man behind the counter responded.
"They still running the store?"
"Trying to."
_(1)_
Men and women dressed in black suits and slacks move in and out of a long and tall eight story building in the middle of a city. Their shoes contrasting their well dressed uniforms with a noticeable popularity of cheap, comfortable sneakers. Most carrying weapons of some sort, talking amongst themselves or walking away alone in silence. The sun was high in the sky as the clouds were gently clear, an uneventful day like any other day.
"Public Safety Devil Hunters, what is your emergency?" An unseen man speaks into a telephone from somewhere behind the front desk, where a young lady was looking off to the left, talking to someone out of eyesight.
More men and women dressed in suits converse in the lobby of the building.
A woman missing two fingers ranting about how her fiancé can't stand her taste in music to a listening coworker.
A worker trying to hastily put on their jacket as they power walked out the door.
A man attempting to take a sip from the cup of water he was holding while walking across the lobby. A mishap in judgment caused him to choke and spill a bit of the water onto the floor. He quickly glanced around and sped off with widened eyes, trying to pretend nothing had happened.
A man in the corner of the lobby sits with a potted cactus held in his hands. The branches of the cactus obscuring the details of his face. He readjusts his seating placement carefully with a hint of awkwardness.
A group of three discussing their most recent case, gazing down at shuffling papers as they casually debated amongst themselves.
The silhouette of an individual side stepping into view before approaching the sliding glass front doors in an odd mix between a normal walk and a staggering limb, switching from one to the other consistently. The sliding doors slid open as the individual entered the lobby, he was dressed like anyone else here, at first glance, you'd assume them as just another member of this department.
The lady at the front desk glanced toward the individual, looking back at her colleague and giving a small wave goodbye.
The individual held their head tilted down as they continued their strange wobbly walk forward, their bushy, bewildered hair hiding any snippet of their face. They were already halfway from the door to the desk as they began lifting their arms up.
The lady at the desk made quick adjustments, lining up papers, clearing her throat, and adjusting the neck of her tie before turning to face the approaching individual with a polite smile.
The individual was just upon the desk by now, hands raised forward, just barely above their head, palms faced down and fingers spread out.
The lady opened her mouth to speak, ready to welcome and ask how she could be of assistance. But her smile lowered as her eyes slightly widened, as if coming to realize something.
The individual gently planted their fingers on top the front desk, steadying themself upon it and slowly leaning to the left. Their pinky dragging along the material as their bewildered hair swayed with each movement.
Beads of sweat formed upon the lady's face as her mouth remained unmoving, processing her current situation as she could only stare at the individual.
An uncanny tone sang softly from the individual, a dream-like tone akin to a serpent's gentle hiss and a breathy whisper. An androgynous pitch that spoke like strands in the wind, which told secrets to all willing to listen. A rhythm dreadfully slow, a tempo fit for shame and nightmares.
"You're a good girl." The individual whispered, their head slowly beginning to tilt up towards the lady, the bewildered hair beginning to part. A few employees in the lobby began to turn their heads towards the front desk with puzzled expressions.
The lady's pupils gradually shrank as the details of the individual's face were unveiled to her. Her skin shifted to a sickly pale and her expression altered to a petrification of horror. A desire to scream welling up inside her, yet a strain in her body urging her to remain perfectly still.
"Aren't you?" He said.
_(2)_
A cloud of dirt flows behind the wake of a tiny truck making its way past green patches of farmland along a countryside. From the bed of the truck, amongst the pieces of farming equipment, a pair of legs could be seen. One knee bent up towards the clouds, while the other leg was crossed on top the knee, bouncing to the beat of an unheard song.
White and navy blue sneakers that were stained and blemished with countless amounts of layers of grim and films of dirt. Significant cut marks right down the middle of the shoes were patched up with various types of tapes of strings. The shoe strings appeared to be the cleanest things on them, but they could barely even be considered shoe strings, just thick threads or bits of tiny rope tied together.
The two shoes of Theseus hung off the feet of a young man wearing rugged attire stained with just as much grime and filth than his abused shoes. Mismatching colored socks, exposed by ripped and torn black jeans that had its leg openings rolled up to the upper calves of his legs. Strings, ropes, and safety pins holding together belt loops to keep the jeans fastened onto his waist.
A dark colored t-shirt blurred, scrapped, warped, and caked in a vast variety of stains that made its contents practically unreadable and unrecognizable. A long, duffle coat fitted with an open zipper down the middle and snap buttons near the hood, covered in blotches of crisps and cakes from hardened mud and grim. A variety of loose, sloppily sewed on patches featuring Mandarin characters and words littering the breasts of the coat.
The truck hit a bump on the road, giving everything in the bed a slight hop. Yet the young man remained unfazed in his relaxed position, landing just as he was positioned. His head landing atop a large bag of unprocessed rice nestled against where the bed of the truck and the cabin met, treating it like some kind of pillow. Where his eyes should be was hidden behind a sprawled, chaotic thicket of hair, a dark shade that warped, twisted and curled in every direction it could reach with each sway and movement.
Within the tangled mass of hair was a pair of orange headphones akin to small, round sponges, held together by a flimsy strip of shiny metal. The wires running down to a cassette player held loosely in a swaying hand that lazily followed the tempo of the muffled song.
The shadow of passing trees interrupted the constant sunlight, leaving vanishing rays that trailed across the truck. The young man's hand stiffened as the music in his ears came to a stop. He sat up from his makeshift pillow of rice, gazing around their current environment. A single lane, dirt road surrounded by trees on both sides.
Brushing his bangs out of at least one of his eyes, he blinked a few times and rubbed his wrist against the eye to get loose eyelashes out of it. An iris of a yellowish-orange to light brown coloring blinking a few more times with an open jaw, struggling to clear it properly. Hints of reds, yellows, and whites start to flicker among the blurry greenery. Once they could gaze upon the world properly again, they realized the colored blurs were blooming poppies, dancing on the side of the road.
They then stood up from their spot in the truck bed, stretching their arms out while leaning back to keep their balance upon the moving vehicle. They then turned around to watch the road ahead, setting their elbows and forearms on top of the cab roof as the wind blew their malefactor cluster of a haircut in the opposing direction. He then raised one of his arms up, till it was right below his face. The raised arm pressed its thumb against a button labeled: "rewind" on the cassette player wrapped in his fingers. Holding his thumb against the button, he was careful to only depress it halfway into the player as the rewind of the cassette barked and squealed softly into his ears.
Eventually the trees cleared away from view, giving way to the sight of a city nestled within a valley of green mountains and trees. It was not too big of a city, yet still a size of significance. The outskirts were made up of smaller, one story buildings while the deeper parts held more towering, multistoried structures that loomed over the sprawl like great sundials. The tallest buildings within sight being around ten to twelve stories tall. It was certainly not a city of significant importance or popularity to the greater country of Japan, but there was a strange impression of individuality it left upon first time viewers. Much like a flower that is just on the verge of blooming, it makes one curious as to what colors and patterns it may blossom into.
The truck eventually slows down to a halt, pulling up to a road leading to the nestled city. The window rolls down with a noticeable squeak as the driver's upper body visibly bobs up and down slightly, rolling a crank on the door. A middle aged man with a mostly bald head then sticks his arm and head out, turning towards the back of the truck.
"Ok! This is as close to Tokyo as I can take you." The man said as the individual in the back of the truck reaches down and slings a bag over his shoulder.
"Thanks old man!" The raggedly haired young man called out with a grin as he hopped out the bed of the truck, landing on the edge of the dirt road with the sides of his feet pressed together.
"Give me a break! I'm only in my early forties!" The middle aged man replied with a chuckle and a small smile, tossing his head into the truck for but a second before turning back towards the young man. He mildly adjusted a hand that rested on top of the steering wheel as he gave a quick glance to the city.
"Oh! My mistake, young man! You just have such a mature hairstyle for your age, well I suggest you hurry back home before curfew falls!" The young man responded, his voice and tone filled with irony and sarcasm while he wrapped the wires of his headphones around the cassette player before stuffing it carelessly into his bag. The middle aged man reeled his head back against the headrest of the truck seat as he left out a hearty laugh, placing a hand upon the hefty bald spot upon his head.
"You should really learn to respect your elders! The people of Japan, especially around Tokyo, aren't as carefree as me!" The middle aged man advised, still giving a smile to the young man as he turned his head back towards them.
"So Tokyo huh? Why do you wanna get over there again?" The middle aged man then asked, the redness and tightness of his face from laughing beginning to fade, yet still holding a big smile.
The young man turned around towards the driver, pulling out a rolled up, crumpled and scratched up paper. With a flick of his wrist, it unrolled, revealing its contents to the middle aged man.
"We love you Chainsaw Man!" A poster with a detailed graphic of a man wearing a white shirt and tie, with the odd depiction of a chainsaw with razor sharp teeth being located where his head should be, read out in bold characters. Hearts plastered and pasted here and there all over the graphic. The young man's expression was blank as he held out the poster, with hints of annoyance reeking from the one eye visible behind his bangs.
The driver leaned his head forward and squinted his eyes as he read the poster, before picking up his gaze to meet the holder's eyes.
"You a fan?" The middle aged man asked, a bit of unsure assumption in his voice.
The corner's of the young man's lips lowered down as he heard the middle aged man's response.
"More like a competitor." The young man responded with an obvious distaste reeking from both the way he spoke and the way his face scrunched up as he began to roll the poster back up.
The middle aged man furrows his eyebrows with a squint as his smile stretched to an awkward, mildly disbelieved expression at the young man.
"Thanks again, old man!" The young man yelled, already walking down the road to the city. Raising his arm up in the air to give a wave goodbye, yet not even facing the direction of the truck.
The middle aged man paused, frozen in his dumbfounded expression. His nose then flared as a silent snort escaped his nasals, shaking his head as he leaned his head back into the truck.
"Was I like that when I was young? Ah- Maybe I am getting old." The middle aged man said to himself with a shake of the head, chuckling lightly with a smile as he began to crank the window of the truck back up. His body bobbing up and down till he disappeared behind the glass.
The young man, currently making his way down the pavement towards the city, picked what looked like a piece of gum out of his hair, before flicking it to the side of the road. He tilted his chin up, taking a few sniffs of the air. He opened his mouth, squinting while staring at the sky, as if trying to focus, before taking another sniff in a different direction.
"You smell that?" He asked himself, lowering his head back down. A wicked, almost malicious grin overtaking his face, staring at the road ahead of him. He raised his hand up to his face while holding a closed fist, save for the thumb, which was sticking out. A sideways thumbs up.
He pressed his thumb under his nose, pushing up. His nose abnormally started to climb up his face with the push of his thumb, as if the middle portion of his face was somehow moveable. Once his nose reached past his forehead, two circular saw blades climb up from behind the top of his head before violently slamming and driving their way into his head in a sudden instant, lodging right past where his eyes should be. He grits and exposes his teeth from beneath his lips, a strange expression that looks like a mix between a painful grimace and a rather sinister smile. Two smaller circular saw blades then burst out diagonal from the cheeks of his face, spilling blood onto the road.
A whirl started to sound, and all four saw blades lodged into his head started to spin. The young man swaying and wobbling his head side to side as the blades ripped and teared. A cloud of blood spraying and spilling a giant gored mess, obscuring his head for a few seconds beneath all the flying crimson. The whirling then ceased, the blood settling and revealing that his head had completely changed within those mere moments of obscurity.
The saw blades still positioned where they were, but parts of steel or plastic of a navy bluish coloration covered and concealed his head. His nose still missing and his lips completely gone, leaving only exposed, grinning teeth and a nasally hole. The flesh around his neck had been converted to what looks like metal parts or cables, and four round ocular pieces stuck out from where his eyes should be.
From his feet, large saw blades sprung from out of his body, the bores of the blades centered right where his ankles should be like a pair of gory, single wheeled roller skates. The blades elevated his feet up off the ground and cut a majority of the tape and string that held his godless shoes together. After a second or two, the blades on his feet began to whirl and spin, sending grinding sparks across the road as he began to bend his knees and lean forward. By the next moment, he was soaring down the road like a raging motorcycle down a highway, racing towards the nestled city in the distance as he howled a mad, hungry laughter into the air.
_(3)_
"Come out, come out! You can't hide forever! I promise I'll make it quick!" A gargled, ghoulish voice with an echo like that of talking through a thin pipe teased within the air. A man dressed in a white chef uniform behind the bar of a currently empty restaurant was drenched in sweat with a horrified expression as he had his body pressed against the wall behind him. Other similarly dressed employees watched safely from the kitchen behind him, yet wore equally horrified expressions.
In front of them was a large, wrinkly hand draped in grime and moss colored fur, its palm as big as one of the flipped over tables beneath its wake. The fingernails of the morbid fingers were blackened, unkept, and crooked as they gently scraped against furniture while the hand felt around, searching.
The uniformed man's lower jaw trembled as he began carefully sidestepping away as quietly as he could, watching his step and watching the hand intently. The faces watching behind him whispering to each other in panic. A small creak sounded from one of the boards beneath him upon his foot gently setting itself down, his teeth clenching and his face wincing in response. His head turned toward the monstrous hand with silent tears rolling down his eyes.
The hand paused, hovering in the air for several seconds, before it animated once again. Lunging two fingers towards the edge of the bar, it curled the fingers around before the wooden counter broke off. A mumbled curse and grumble sounded from the door the arm was lodged through before the fingers guided the hand back into the center of the restaurant.
The man, dropping his jaw in a silent scream, felt relief as the hand moved back towards the center. He then reached his foot over to make another step, eying a door at the far end of the small establishment.
A crack in the walls then sounded from the door the arm was attached to. Another set of fingers digging into the side of the door before ripping it, and the adjoined wall open. The man's eyes widened as his skin grew pale, turning to see several sets of eyes make contact with his.
"There you are!" The horrid voice sang. From the newly made hole, a large being draped a hide of mossy green fur was staring into the restaurant. Flesh veiny and wrinkly as the main head seemed to be tucked away within a confine resembling a grisly pair of horizontal, yellowing teeth. The main, wrinkly face bearing a pair of ox-like horns and six eyes as the flesh of the lower jaw drooped and trembled like an elderly individual.
The man screamed, staring at the horrid face as the fingers of the abomination carried themselves towards him. He reached behind him, grabbing a pan settled on top the gap separating the bar from the kitchen, before swinging it towards the hand. The contents of the pan spill and scorch the hand as the creature groans, reeling the hand away.
"You little..." The grisly voice growled as the faces' unorthodox, uncanny expressions morphed from a sadistic and pleasured grin to an annoyed scowl. The palm of the large hand turning towards the bar as the fingers outstretched, nails angled and pointed with deadly intent.
The man ducked and cowered, tossing himself behind the bar as the large hand began moving in, scraping the floor beneath them. In the distance, from the opposing end of the establishment, what sounds like a maniac laughing, and the grinding of buzzsaws pressing against materials it's not designed to cut, approaches rapidly.
The window on the opposing side of the restaurant suddenly shatters, scattering glass as a human shaped figure flies in. Just as the oversized fingers dig into the material of the bar, they suddenly begin reeling back and squirming in pain.
The monstrous face outstretches its jaw to an inhuman length before letting out a guttural, pain filled scream. Blood begins to spray and drench the restaurant as a buzzsaw sticking out of a person's foot digs and grinds into one of the monstrous, wrinkly fingers. In a matter of moments, the middle of the creature's ring finger was completely sawed off, the dismembered portion flopping onto the floor.
The figure landed on his two feet, before standing up and laughing, lunging forward and wrapping his arms onto the severed remains of the finger. It was the young man, his head still deformed and warped, with circular saws sticking out of it. The monster was desperately trying to wrench its hand out the doorway, making progress as the buzzsaw man tried pulling it further in with his own strength.
Seeing his feet slide against the floor, the buzzsaw man quickly realized his idea wasn't working, and decided to improvise. He let his grasp on the severed finger go and ducked under the hand, charged towards the abominations screaming face. Reeling his fist back, a circular saw blade bursted from his wrist, its bore connected to a piston dug deeper within his arm. Planting his feet as the soles of his struggling shoes slid forward, the buzzsaw on his arm began spinning rapidly.
"Thank you for your purchase!" The buzzsaw man yelled as he drove the reeled arm forward, driving the buzzsaw directly into the creature's face at an angle, right at the left eye. The creature immediately responding with an even louder, blood curdling scream, the jaw stretching to unorthodox lengths as a mouth within the mouth, and a mouth within that mouth all began screaming together. Reaching his normal arm out, he grabbed onto the monster's nose, distorting the scream into a slightly funny sound.
His feet sprung saws once again as they immediately started spinning backwards, digging into the wood flooring till he could place his shoes firmly against it. The reverse rotation from the saws of his feet beginning to pull the monster's body further into the building.
"There's two of them now!" A woman cried out from the kitchen, watching the horrific scene. The uniformed man sticking his head out from the bar before jumping up and making a break for the door.
"Hahahaha! Eee err eee errrr!" From a burst of hysterical laughter as the buzzsaw man reeled his head back, he looked back towards the monster's agonized expression before making small squeaking noises as he began wiggling around the monster's nose. The monster raising an eyebrow to make a bewildered, confused expression while they continued to scream from having a literal saw blade gorge into their face.
From outside the small building, right from where the creature had stuffed their head, an extra set of arms reaches up from their serpentine-like body and presses the palms against the building's nearest wall. The monster manages to violently pull their head out from the establishment, flinging their head out and stumbling back in a sudden loss of balance. The buzzsaw man, with the buzzsaw from his arm still lodged in the creature's face, was sent flying across the streets upon the serpentine body whipping around. Somersaulting across the air seemingly uncontrollably.
"This isn't worth it! I just wanted a light snack and I can't even have that!" The monster cried out as they turned towards where the buzzsaw man went flying, covering the bleeding gorge on their face with their hand as their six eyes trembling in a wild mix between fear, anger, and just plain annoyance. Their entire body was just as bizarre as their face, a slender, flexible length coated with the hairy moss hide with several smaller arms decorating the entirety, much like the legs of a centipede. At the end of their length was what looked like a pair of bull legs, instead of a bull tail however, was another pair of ox-like horns, representing the stinger of a centipede. The pose of its body representing the curled up, uneven, yet majestic posture dragons are commonly depicted with.
He managed to land with the buzzsaws from his feet, which scraped across the pavement while his arms swung around wildly to regain his balance and sense of orientation. Sparks flying all around him as he let out another manic laugh, the saws on his feet whirling once again mid-slide, ready to send him flying right back at the monster.
"No! Stay back!" The monster cried out in a warning tone as they quickly lowered their body close to the ground, pressing the palms of their various arms onto the road, their elbows tensing and bending. Their words falling upon ignorant ears as the buzzsaw man flies right towards them with flying sparks.
The creature quickly pushed their arms down against the pavement the moment they saw the buzzsaw man fly towards them. Each pair of arms across their body pushing, shoving their body upwards to send themselves up in the air, an unorthodox jump for an unorthodox body.
The buzzsaw man glided right under their body, yet managed to latch onto one of the very last pairs of arms at the end of their body, which had yet to push off the ground. Spinning around from the sudden pull of momentum as they wrapped their arms tightly around the creature's arm, the buzzsaws on his feet immediately started spinning in reverse.
Tugging the very rear of the monster backwards, the front of the body flopped onto the ground violently. A large, bloody tooth from its upper body skittering and skipping across the road upon the impact.
"Get off of me!" The monster screamed out furiously as it raised its front body off the ground. With a newfound strength, it began using its large front arms to begin spinning itself.
"Huh?!" The buzzsaw man let out a surprised noise as he was pulled along, still latched onto the tiny arm at the very rear of its serpentine body. He began kicking his legs out, losing his footing as the creature's rear started raising off the ground. Picking up to a rather frightening momentum in a matter of moments as the creature continued rotating its upper body, seemingly trying to hammer throw the buzzsaw man off. Papers, bikes, and nearby debris began whirling and hovering around the area as the creature's rapidly spinning body began creating a local turbulence.
Once he found himself high enough in the air, the buzzsaw man willingly let his arms go from the creature's limb, flinging himself at an angle that would send himself straight up into the air. His arms outstretching as he gazed at the sun, flying higher and higher into the air, basking in its warm light.
"What a rush. I haven't felt like this since I left Taipei." The buzzsaw man thought to himself while the four mechanical tubes representing optics gazed and stared at the beauty of the clear, blue sky. Music began singing and cheering within his head. A woman's majestic voice singing alongside the rush of a raging, yet joyous piano, violins and synths slowly washing alongside the melody. His mind was drowning in adrenaline, yet his airborne ascent was slowing to a halt, gravity beginning to pull him back down to earth once more, flipping him over to watch his descent.
Down below him, the monster was just beginning to slow down its rotation, yet its long body was practically vertical at this moment, stuck in a spinning handstand. The buzzsaw man's teeth started to grin and grind as another burst of manic laughter was building up inside. He pointed his legs towards the ground, the buzzsaws erupting from his soles, immediately whirling up, impatient and hungry for blood and carnage. The music in his head building up, the suspense tightening as notes linger in the air, preparing for a grand climax.
And there it is.
The saw blades on his feet drove right in, over the ox-horned stinger, and into the creatures back. The buzzsaws of his feet running and gutting, racing down the abominations back. The music erupted into its final chorus as it drowned out the terribly scream and cry of the monster. Reeling his head back and spreading his arms out while letting that manic, adrenaline filled laugh filled the air.
He could feel it! He was skiing and skimming across the grand, crystal blue ocean while flying as free as the wind! The wild spraying amasses of blood feeling like gentle breezes of ocean water drizzling upon his body and face. An image of paradise and a perfectly aligned cue as the chemicals in his brain matter mixed to a sweet taste of an uppermost high.
Until something sudden, snapped him out from his grand daydream, making his ears ring while plunged him into an instantaneous pitch blackness. Something smacked him right on the head, sending everything above his neck limb and numb. His jaw dropping and a freakishly elongated tongue flopping out and around like a wiggling worm. He wasn't paying attention, so he didn't even brace himself for an impact of any kind. His body bounced across the road as his limbs flailed all around, before landing flat, completely out cold.
The creature in the distance quieted its agony filled screaming, now mumbling a hundred curses as its back was soaked with spilling blood that stained its fur hide with crimson. Adjusting itself next to a bent streetlamp bearing a noticeable head-shaped dent imprinted onto it. The creature picked up its head towards a certain direction, hearing a car noise in the distance, before quickly scrambling away, fleeing into the nearby woods like a frightened animal.
A car pulled up to the scene, casually slowing and stopping in the middle of the road. One of the passenger doors of the car opened, a person wearing a pair of black slacks and cheap shoes stepped out. The individual slowly approached the unconscious buzzsaw man, who currently had his elongated tongue stretched out across the street, stopping when they were standing only a foot or two away from him.
"Seems like the reported devil got away. We got a live one here though, out cold. Doesn't look like a standard devil or fiend." The individual said, the buzzsaw man before them remaining unmoving.
_(4)_
"I'm Buzzsaw man!" The young man blurted out, followed by a proud, enthusiastic smile, contrasting his current surroundings. A gray, dull, room, lit by a dull pair of fluorescent lights overhead. A single, rather thin table was set before him, covered in a few documents and folders, all of which facing away from him. The young man himself, who had already long returned to his normal, human-like self, was seated on a metal chair. His arms were stuck behind his back and lodged in the gaps usually used to support the back of the chair, while his wrists were held in place there by a pair of handcuffs.
Across from the young man, on the opposing side of the table, were two men dressed in black suits.
The man to the right was seated in a lax, leaned back position with his arms crossed across his chest and his legs stretched out under the table. His head tilting to the side a degree or two as an eyebrow on his face raised while staring at the young man, giving a silent, yet casually judging face, which reeked a tone of awkwardness with just a hint of boredom. He turned his head toward his colleague, leaning his head back with a slightly open jaw to gaze at the files the other suited man was shuffling through. He reached out a hand to open one of the folders just a little wider so he could see their contents.
The man to the left was seated upright, yet with his left leg resting atop his right knee, cradling several documents seated upon his hands and lap. He had just glanced his eyes up from the files upon hearing the young man blurt out those three words. His eyebrows slightly raising, yet his eyes giving off an unimpressed, unchanged expression. He pursed his lips before slowly nodding his head a few times unenthusiastically.
The two men were now walking down a narrow hallway nearly shoulder to shoulder, the more lax man slightly behind his assumed partner. Other suited individuals were moving across the hallway as well, some more hurriedly than others. There was a sense of chaos in the air by the way people were acting. Scrambling and yelling, scampering down the halls, even crying in corners.
"He's not a devil or a fiend, most probable to be akin to the all the new members of Special Division Five in Tokyo. Hybrids? Or weapons? I don't believe there was an official name to their classification." The man with the folders and papers explained, still shuffling and browsing through documentation while walking.
"So what are-" The lax man began, before being interrupted by another man. The apologized with an out of breath tone before he squeezed his way between the two, dashing down the hall afterward.
"So what are we gonna do with him? Dispose of him as a devil? Let him go on his way? Or just send him to Tokyo? Let him be Makima's problem and not ours. She seems to be the expert on them after all." The lax man said, resuming the question he had before getting interrupted.
"Not too sure, think I heard something's going on currently in Tokyo, but nothing's clear-" The paper man began to speak, but was halted by another man, who stopped the pair in their tracks with a simple and silent front facing palm.
The man sported a hefty, black, buttoned trench coat that only extended a bit past his hips, over his white shirt and tie. His dark colored hair was parted down the middle, yet wavy, messy and inconsistent, reaching past his chin, which complimented his rather unkempt goatee. His eyes held a sense of stillness, that akin to a corpse, as blackened bags decorated their underside. He appeared to have not even reached his forties, yet his demeanor was like that of a grizzly old man. Despite his posture seeming hunched and lean, his head was still held higher than the two men before him. A few fingers of the hand he held out had sections seemingly covered or replaced by stiff wooden replacements.
"Captain." The paper man responded, giving a small bow with his upper body, greeting his superior.
"That's for the kid in the interview room?" The man asked as his eyes shifted towards the documents in the paper man's hands. His voice was raspy and shallow, his tone tired, as if every word he spoke was a struggle in itself.
The paper man responded with a nod of confirmation. The lax man behind him simply watching.
The captain upturned his palm, gesturing the paper man to hand over the documentation, in which the paper man quickly complied. The captain then tilted the papers toward himself, gazing his eyes over the papers.
"He's confirmed to be within the categorization of devils and fiends, just they don't have an official name for this type of classification yet." The paper man began explaining, glancing between the captain's eyes and the papers within his hands.
"He's like that guy in Tokyo with the chainsaws." The lax man pitched in, tilting his head slightly up as he spoke, before resting a hand on the paper man's shoulder. The captain was now beginning to fold the papers in halves, first vertically, then horizontally.
"We're still judging on how to proceed. One of our ideas being to ship him to Tokyo, since they have more experience with- Captain?" The paper man continued explaining, until he was interrupted by the tearing of paper. Once the Captain had folded up the papers nearly into a square, he began tearing them in halves, horizontal, then vertical.
"Two of our coworkers were just killed in this very building." The captain began speaking as he continued to tear the papers into increasingly smaller pieces. Yellow caution tape blocks access to a hallway in the building, bloodstains covering the nearby walls and windows behind the tape.
"One is still missing." Employees running across the cramp halls, some colliding into each other, while others manage to slip past, a sense of panic in the air.
"One just resigned." An employee lacking a black suit, yet still sporting the standard white shirt and black slacks, bows deeply as a resignation form sits upon the desk in front of them.
"The chief of our department has just been abducted in broad daylight." A desk within a large, empty office, pointed and faced towards the doorway, seats what looks like a scale model of the department building. The model was not perfectly lined up on the desk, scooted so the rotation was slightly crooked. Papers are scattered and scrambled all across the desk and floor. On the floor, not far from the desk, was an icepick with a wooden handle.
"We've just been attacked. In our own establishment. In the middle of the day. By an unknown enemy. Devil, fiend, human, we don't know who or what they are, nor what they want. Leaving the case on whether this is a devil attack, or a possible terrorist attack, unknown." The paper man and the lax man simply watch the captain as he continues to speak. Their expressions displaying their full attention towards the captain's words.
"Kyoto claims this matter is too insignificant for them to assist. Tokyo has been completely silent for the past three hours. Fukuoka is dealing with their own problems right as we speak. In other words, we are all on our own." Shredding the papers into tiny bits, he clapped his hands together before rubbing them against each other, shuffling the torn crumbs between his palms.
"Give him the devil, fiend treatment: "You work for us, or get disposed of as a devil. Try to escape, you'll be hunted on sight by any and all Devil Hunters across Japan". Put him in Aishi's division. We're taking any resources we can get at this point until we get to the bottom of this." The captain extended a clenched fist out casually towards the paper man, holding it out in front of him, the palm pointed towards the floor as if giving him something. The paper man extends his hand underneath the captain's hand, in which the captain uncurls his fingers. The stacks of shredded paper landing onto the paper man's palm.
"Dismissed." The captain finished, turning away and walking further down the hallway, leaving the two men behind as they stood in place.
"Aishi's division? This isn't the first time he's mentioned Aishi. So is it just me, or does the captain have a soft spot for that fiend?" The lax man asked quietly, leaning closer to his partner's ear as he spoke.
"Don't you know?" The paper man responded, continuing to watch the captain walk down the hallway. The lax man turned his head to stare at his partner, furrowing his brow to give a mildly confused expression.
"Know what?" The lax man asked hesitantly.
In the lobby of the building, several police officers and black suited employees were moving out and about.
"Can you describe to me what this individual looked like?" A police officer asked, writing notes within a small notepad.
"He looked like the most ugliest, most disgusting man I had ever seen in my entire life! All bloated, sweaty, and pale like the shade of vomit!" A woman stated, shaking her head with a disgusted expression of clenched teeth as she rubbed the side of her shoulder.
"It was hard to describe. He kind of looked like how one of my neighbors look when they're out and about at night. Like the shading of their face was wrong." A man tried explaining, scratching his chin lightly as his eyes wandered across the floor in a worried, unsure manner.
"I'm sorry, I couldn't make out any distinct features." A man holding a cactus apologized, its branches obscuring any defining details regarding his face.
"Their head was literally a pig!" A lady blurted out, their pupils shrunken to the size of pin pricks. She was waving her fingers and hands around her head as she spoke, trying to express the snout and ears of a pig. The way she spoke and gestured made it seem that even she, herself was struggling to believe the words she spoke and the things she saw.
"She looked kinda like how they describe the slit mouthed woman." An employee said, tracing their fingers across their own cheeks as they spoke. Their eyes having a squeamish look to them.
"They were a really creepy looking guy. Just looking at them made my skin crawl." A man says as he leans against a wall, shivering slightly as he spoke.
"He looked a bit like a man my mother would describe to me before she died, a man she said would visit her in her dreams." A woman described quietly as stares off in the distance with blank eyes. Her words slow and quiet, as if she was dazed in countless thoughts at once.
"He looked. He looked like my father. I'd recognized that face anywhere. Yet for some reason, he was wearing that face." The lady behind the front desk described after a deep breath, staring down at the scrambled papers before her. Her fingers curling up as she then looked up. There were signs of recently shed tears around her eyes, and her face was still soaked in fading sweat, complemented by a sickly pale that still stained her skin.
"I watched my father's body go into the crematory five years ago." The lady said as she was now staring towards the officer with the notepad, her eyes looking as if they were on the verge of tears again. She took a deep breath before she spoke again.
"He asked me where the chief's office was." Her face began to distort as water started seeping from the corners of her eyes.
"I knew I shouldn't, I knew it wasn't him. But even after all this time." Her words began to jumble and her voice began to crack as she couldn't control her distress any longer. She raised her right arm, all five fingers pointing towards a hallway to the left.
"I can't disobey him! No matter how I try! No matter how much I want to!" She cried out, her face crunching up and wrinkling as tears began flowing like rivers down her face. Her arms retreating to cover her face. A coworker running up behind her and asking if she's ok, hovering their hands over her shoulders, yet careful not to touch her.
"Not a single one of these descriptions are remotely similar to each other, besides the suit and slacks they were apparently wearing." The police officer stated in an exhausted voice as he flipped through his notepad, shaking his head side to side slowly while he spoke.
"No fingerprints, no third party blood samples, no traces of identification, no identifiable weapon, surveillance destroyed and unrecoverable. Not even a recognizable trail as to where they went after they reached the chiefs office, like they vanished into thin air. Can't even tell if this was the work of a person or a devil." Another, more square shaped officer states as he stood next to a suited woman, both staring down at a bloodied white sheet laid upon the ground, most likely covering up a corpse of some kind. The bulges beneath the sheets did not line up to that of a human body. Instead, the forms beneath represented separated, scrambled parts and pieces.
"Certainly there's a devil at work here, but we can't figure out which one. These descriptions don't match any known devils." The suited woman followed up, crouching down to examine a splattered bloodstain next to a numbered marker.
"This kind of stuff is way past our experience, training, and expertise. The captain of division one already informed us that the other public devil hunting departments can't spare any people or resources. But luckily, the police aren't as strained. We got Osaka sending someone who has dealt with a case or two involving criminals mixing up with devils and contracts." The square office says before he takes a sip of coffee, his eyes trailing along and around with the various blood stains surrounding them.
"Should be here in a few hours hopefully." The square officer states as he pulls up his free wrist, shaking it to make his coat sleeve roll down. He then raises the arm near his face, checking a flimsy wrist watch strapped upon it.
"We'll do what we can in the meantime." The officer finishes, lowering his arm and making his way towards the edge of the crime scene, careful not to spill his coffee. The officer with the notepad was standing outside the yellow tape, assumedly waiting for the other officer.
"Your work is appreciated." The woman says politely as her eyes never leave the bloodstain. The squarish officer simply raised his free hand in response for a few moments as he walked away.
_(5)_
Back in the small gray room, the young man was alone, leaning over the small table in front of him, his knees bent forward. He was standing up with his hands still stuck in the chair, leaving him in a very awkward position.
"Come on." He mumbled to himself, carefully lowering his face to the edge of the table, making small downwards movements with his head. His eyes, hidden beneath his bangs, were crossed to a funny position as his stare was honed in on the very tip of his nose. It seemed as if he was trying to press his nose against the table, but was struggling to do so.
The door in front of him then creaked open. He picked up his head to look towards the door and froze. A pair of eyes was witnessing him in the middle of his attempt, simply staring at him in an awkward silence.
The pair of eyes transfixed on the young man belonged to a rather petite woman wearing a cold, unamused, tired expression upon their face. Her hair was a semi-dark shade of green, with a noticeable preference to combing her hair to cover the left side of her head, which only extended down to around her collar bone. Only her right ear could be seen, which was pierced with a black earring.
The two stared at each other in a frozen silence for several seconds. It wasn't until the young man, still maintaining eye contact, set the chair back down onto the ground, along with the rest of his body. A squeak and screech of the chair echoing throughout the small room. His expression feinting innocence with a rather dull positioning, silently playing dumb.
The woman gave an unamused roll of her eyes as she broke eye contact with a notable sigh, entering the room and standing against one of the walls. Following her in, was a much taller individual that nearly had to tilt their head just to enter the room. The door shut behind them, and the young man was stuck locking eyes with a new, gleaming pair of red eyes, their features hidden in the shadowed corner of the ceiling. The young man kept a straight faced expression, yet it was obvious he was unsettled by whatever stood on the other side of the room.
The tall individual stepped closer, slowly unveiling their features into the wake of the fluorescent light. Freakishly pale skin was the first thing of notice as the neck above their neatly worn suit was the first portion to be revealed. Cuts at the corners of their chin and mouth, peeled away and exposing dried, red muscles of the face that were kept frozen with their current unwavering expression: a supposedly polite, closed smile.
The young man's nose twitched slightly, taking a careful sniff of the air. While he remained straight faced, he knew this person was not a human, or at least whoever was in control of the body was not human. He was frozen in his movements, as if in the presence of the enemy, an enemy of humankind itself. A devil, wearing the fleece of a man.
The individual stepped closer, the light rolling further up his face, showcasing an assortment of shiny metal piercing across their face. Most notably, three spikes of different sizes that struck through the cartilages of the nose, horizontally parallel from one another. At the top of their head was combed back, white hair that flowed down past their shoulders. With the face fully revealed, the young man could only stare at their uncanny expression and features in silence, watching carefully.
"Good morning!" The individual then said with a rather unsettling voice, masculine, deep and intimidating, yet spoke with an incredibly polite, gentle tone. They then broke eye contact with the young man to bow their head, as they spoke. After picking their head up from their bow, they took another step and seated themselves in one of the chairs across from the young man. The young man continued to stare at the obvious devil in silence, their jaw slightly ajar.
The devilish man then stared down at the papers left on the desk, setting his own folder neatly to the side, before straightening the slightly ruffled documents into an organized stack. He smiled then dropped as he squinted at some of the characters written upon one of the documents. Keeping his gaze on the characters, he reached into a pocket of his inner suit to pull out a pair of small, round glasses, pushing them onto his face and blinking a few times before inspecting the papers again, mouth slightly ajar and shifting around to see better. It was like watching an old man trying to read a newspaper.
"Noriko? I'm afraid I'm not too familiar with these characters. I recognize them, but they're not the characters you usually use for a name." He mumbled slowly, pointing at a particular section at the bottom of the paper in his hands. The green haired woman walked closer and leaned forward to look over the pale man's shoulder.
"Is this really correct?" The pale man asked, furrowing his brow and tilting his head as he shifted the paper so the woman could see it more properly.
"The characters might be right, but I think it might be mandarin. Though does he not have a last name?" The woman replied.
"Mandarin?" The pale man asked in a surprised tone, turning his head toward her before looking back towards the paper.
"It says he's from Taiwan here. So I assume his name is written and spoken in the same way as someone from Taiwan." The woman explained, pressing her finger against a higher section of the paper.
"But he does speak Japanese, right?" The pale man asked.
"Does he?" The woman replied. They both turned their heads to stare at the silent young man across the table.
The young man paused for a second to process the situation. An awkward second of silence. He then opened his mouth to speak, then simply nodded his head twice in response.
"That's a relief. I don't think I could handle learning another language. No offense to you! I just struggle with languages." The pale man said with an exhale and light smile, quickly correcting himself to try and not sound rude.
"So, I'm sorry, but how do we pronounce your name?" The pale man then asked, glancing down at the paper, then back at the young man.
The young man glanced down at the paper, then back at the pale man hesitantly.
"Wei-Ting." The young man says in a quiet tone, a significant pause between the two parts.
"Wei-Ting? Well it is a pleasure to meet you Wei-Ting!" The pale man began to speak, extending his gloved hand across the table for a handshake as a smile distorted his devilish features.
"He still has handcuffs on." The short woman next to him mumbled blatantly.
"Oh. I'm so sorry." The pale man then apologized with a quick, quiet tone, awkwardly tilting his head down and retreating his hand back under the table.
"Anyways, Wei-Ting. You may call me Aishi! I am Captain of the unofficial Public Safety Devil Hunter Division Four. In truth, Division Four is a reserve unit for reinforcing the other three divisions of this city when needed." The pale man explained, clasping his hands together gently as he tried to speak as politely, yet thoroughly as possible.
"This Public Safety department has officially declared you will not be exterminated or disposed of as a devil! If you contribute your services to this Public Safety Devil Hunting department, that is." The pale man continued, picking up another document and reading from it. He adjusted the goofy little glasses sitting on the bridge of his pierced nose with his gloved hand as he skimmed over the next portions of the page with his eyes, possibly looking for the next statement needing to be read aloud.
"Wait. What?" The young man began to mumble, his stillness and fear starting to crumble away as he picked up his head. The fact that the person sitting across from him was a devil, was now the least of his concerns in an instant.
"I know that sounds bad and can be pretty stressful to take in. But I assure you, these statements are mainly procedure. I went through this exact same thing years ago! It's not as bad as it sounds!" The pale man reasoned, seemingly trying to make the situation as comfortable as he could.
A paper with a crayon drawing of a man with a chainsaw for a head, covered in hearts flashes in the young man's mind as he perks up as high as he could in his chair. A noticeable squeak sounding from his chair as he scoots closer to the table.
"Can I get a transfer?! I want to transfer!" The young man blurted out, his eyes wide and eager as he scooted even closer.
"A transfer? A transfer to where?" The pale man asked, his smile shrinking as his brow furrowed with a worried curiosity. The woman peering over his shoulder, simply raising an eyebrow slightly.
"Tokyo!" The young man said, lunging closer. The chair tilting forward and the young man pressing his upper chest against the table.
"Tokyo? May I ask why you would want to be transferred to Tokyo?" The pale man asked, his tone of voice becoming more noticeably meek as the young man became more louder and forward. The pale man began sinking into his chair as the young man was now partially leaning onto the table. The woman remained where she was, unmoving and unfazed.
"Chainsaw man is in Tokyo, right?" The young man asked, nearly shouting at this point.
"The chainsaw man from the news? I believe he's part of the Tokyo Public Safety Special Divisions? Are you perhaps a fan wishing to meet him?" The pale man asked, tilting his head to the side and raising an eyebrow with a nervous smile, trying to keep his composure as best as he could.
"No! I'm not a fan! I've never been a fan! And I never will be a fan!" The young man replied swiftly, standing up and hoisting the chair onto his back as he stared sharply at the pale man and short woman with a newfound burst of energy.
"When I get to Tokyo. I'm gonna put him in his place! I'm going to beat him up for everyone to see, so that they know I'm number one, I'm the one who'll save the people of Japan! The people of Taiwan! The people of the world! Then I'll be the one on the news! I'll be the one people love and cheer for! The one children will draw crappy little doodles of! The one people will dance and parade around in the streets for, holding up signs saying stuff like: "we love you!"! The world will love Buzzsaw Man!" This was the young man known as Wei-Ting, self proclaimed "Buzzsaw Man". A devil hybrid from Taipei, Taiwan, who traveled from Taipei to Ishigaki Island, from Ishigaki Island to Okinawa, and from Okinawa to Kagoshima, Japan illegally by boat. From Kagoshima, he has traveled to Fukuoka by any means necessary, and was on his way to heading straight for Tokyo.
Wei-Ting was jumping and spinning around his side of the room, still handcuffed to his chair as he passionately ranted about his plans and goals, the future he craved for.
The pale man and the short woman slowly turned their heads to face each other with a shared dumbfounded, baffled expression, before slowly turning back to watch the young man toss and turn himself in the relatively small room.
"I'm. I'm afraid we can't transfer you to Tokyo, Wei-Ting." The pale man meekly responded, as politely as he could. His face held an expression as polite as he could muster for this given situation.
"Huh?" Wei-Ting replied with a quiet sound as seemingly all the energy in him had dissipated in an instant, freezing him in his tracks to simply stand there blankly. His bangs shuffling over his eyes as his expression was similar to that of a lost and confused puppy.
"A tragedy had befell upon this department, just this morning. And command has fallen to the Captain of Division One, who has currently forbid any outward transfers until further notice." The pale man carefully explained, extending his arms out, trying to keep the young man calm.
"But I need to get to Tokyo!" Wei-Ting whined as he ran back up to the table, wobbling from the instability the chair stuck to his back caused.
"I'm sure after this situation is resolved, they will happily transfer you to Tokyo!" The pale man replied, trying to reason with the young man.
"Will they? Or am I going to be stuck here forever?" Wei-Ting asked, still simply standing there, hunched over. His tone was beginning to drip with bits of doubt and skepticism.
"I can't guarantee anything at the moment, but I can assure you it'll be easier for everyone if you simply cooperate with us for now, Wei-Ting. Trying to escape and gunning it for Tokyo will put a target on your back for every Devil Hunter, Public and Private. Even if you make it to Tokyo and find Chainsaw Man, you won't ever have the chance to be a hero, you'll just be a devil labeled for extermination." The pale man explained, leaning forward and clasping his hands together as he tried to sate the young man's unreasonable goals with his own form of comprehensible reason.
Wei-Ting froze for a moment, only moving around his closed mouth in what seemed to be pondering thoughts. He then tilted his head down with a sigh, setting the chair back onto the ground as he sat back down. Another metallic squeak echoing across the tiny room.
"Fine." The young man mumbled with a rather unenthusiastic tone.
"Wonderful! Welcome to Division Four!" The pale man exclaimed with an excited clap of his hands and a cheerful smile. He then began rapidly organizing the papers around. The short woman left from where she had been standing, casually walking behind Wei-Ting's chair with a key in hand, silently.
"Now we do have to get you to sign a few documents before we begin to confirm you have agreed to our terms and policy." The pale man began yapping, talking at a rapid pace as he slid a few papers to the other side of the table.
"After which, we'll make sure to get your measurements for a suit and slacks or two, you may take a shower in our locker rooms beforehand, if you wish. Which I highly recommend, no offense." The pale man continued on. The short woman behind Wei-Ting seemingly struggling to unlock his handcuffs as she silently mumbled and cursed to herself in a tired, unenthusiastic tone. Meanwhile, Wei-Ting himself was starting to stare into space as the pale man rambled on, drool started to flow from his ajar mouth.
"Actually." The pale man then paused, straightening a stack of papers as his smile disappeared, staring at Wei-Ting in a short period of silence.
"I think first you need a haircut. Your hair is far too unprofessional." The pale man stated with newfound seriousness in his voice.
"Wait, what?" Wei-Ting perked up upon hearing a single word, sitting up and focusing his wide eyed attention at the pale man. The woman behind him making a noticeable grumble as him moving seemed to have messed up her concentration.
He began shaking his head side to side in denial, mumbling small remarks of negativity. A newfound fear had reentered his expression.
The pale man squinted his eyes and tightened the corners of his lips as he began nodding his head up and down in confirmation.
"Don't worry. I'll take care of it myself." The pale stated as he took out an ink pen from his suit and set it neatly onto the table.
A final shriek sounded from Wei-Ting, a vain cry attempting to preserve the atrocious mane of hair he had accumulated for possibly the last few years. Yet it would come to an end, it would be forced to change, like many things in life. Whether we want them to or not, things will change, and change will come. Life is unpredictable, and we must always remember that.
Buzzsaw Man Prologue End
To Be Continued in Chapter 1!