Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aki never thought he’d find himself in the possession of a pup, especially one with so much baggage. And yet, he finds himself carrying one in a bundle of blankets, his scrawny form shaking.

“Is this okay?” He asks, met with a tiny nod as the boy settles against him, inhaling his scent and purring.It wasn’t what he had expected to come of his day, Denji was normal that morning. Now, he’s small in his arms, shivering at the cold. Some reversal devil, Makima explained to him. Exterminated safely, he should go back to normal sooner or later.

His heart raced at the possibility that Denji could be stuck like this. “And I’m expected to care for him until then?” Aki asked, like he didn’t already know the answer.

“He’d be more comfortable with someone he’s already familiar with.” She continued, resting her head against her palm. “You’re an atypical alpha as well, more… gentle.”

His heart fluttered, and he was sold.

Despite Denji’s purring, he seemed upset, his scent sour and distressed. Most pups had a sweet smell, like condensed milk or cream for coffee, and stayed relatively the same until they presented. Denji, however, seemed so permanently stressed and unhappy, that it’d shifted to something more fetid, making him wrinkle his nose. He rubbed his back awkwardly, trying to soothe him.

He wasn’t good with children, in his own opinion. He never knew what to say– too reserved for their liking, and often made an effort to avoid children throughout his day. It was always a hassle when a child was involved, especially in Public Safety. (Himeno had found him one too many times attempting to numb his grief with cigarettes and sake after an assignment where a pup was injured, or more often than not, dead. She wouldn’t ask questions, she didn’t need to, to know exactly what it reminded him of.)

Denji was far quieter as a child than he expected. He had imagined the rowdy teenager was just as excitable, if not more, when he was younger; but he was sorely mistaken. He’d barely spoken the entire walk home, his single eye unfocused and gazing out at nothing. He was filthy, and felt too warm to be normal. Must be sick, Aki guessed, adjusting his hold on him. He’s too skinny, I doubt his immune system could fight off a virus, let alone an infection.

How the hell had he even made it to 16?

“Do you want to get something to eat, Denji?” He asked, the boy jerking at the sudden noise. “Or would you rather I make you something at home?” He did have some tofu he needed to get rid of, Miso and fish wouldn’t overwhelm the malnourished pup, he hoped.

"How did you know my name?” Denji queries, but doesn’t try to escape, like he’s used to being carried around by people he’d never met. Of course, he didn’t know this version of Denji, mentally chiding himself for the mistake.

“The lady at the office informed me,” He falls back onto an easy lie. “She said I’ll be taking care of you until you feel better.”

“Oh.” Denji hums, like that explains everything. He bites his lip, looking down. “And… Pochita? Have you seen him? He’s orange and really round… is he okay?”

Aki wasn’t sure how to answer that. “He’s staying with a veterinarian for now. A nice one, so he can feel better too.”

“Will they feed him?” Denji didn't quite understand what a veterinarian was, but he was fine as long as they were nice.

“Of course.” The kid exhales, then finally falls asleep against his chest.

Aki decided to not make him wait to eat, buying some onigiri (and a pack of cigarettes for himself), before pushing his way back to the apartment.

He’d woken him up briefly to eat, Denji staring at the rice like it was the most precious thing in the world. “It isn’t poisoned? Really?” When he confirmed, he ate it in seconds, nearly choking as he didn’t bother to chew. Aki chose to ignore his question for now, adding it to the list of problems he was now haggling with. Food. Pups need food. That was something he could easily accomplish, stirring the miso paste into a boiling pot before rinsing rice, hoping a cup would suffice.

Pups need shelter. He checked that off. Pups need sleep. He peeked over at the floor table, where Denji was laying on his side, blankly staring at the wall, his form taut and ready to spring. Working on that, he thought, making a note to invest in some herbal tea. He hoped Denji wouldn’t be this way for long– his scent is so unpleasant.

He carefully steamed the fish, ensuring that it was easy to pick off the bones. It was beyond bland, but he wasn't concerned about the taste of his cooking, given the situation. Just get nutrients into him first, worry about taste later. Think about the shock to his metabolism, watch for refeeding syndrome.

He plated and served, Denji’s smell shifting to something more airy, sitting up with curiosity. He sat across from him, picking at the fish with his chopsticks. Denji didn’t move. “Are you going to eat?” He questioned.

Denji shrunk back. “I wasn’t sure–” He stammers, looking away from the food despite his growling stomach. “--If I was allowed.”

“Of course you are.” He retorted, a bit too forcefully. His own scent was a bit piquant, which he had to school back into neutrality. He didn’t mean to get frustrated, just that he preferred the older Denji who’d eat whatever was put in front of him. “While you’re in my home, you’re allowed to eat whenever you’re hungry.” He amended, gesturing to the bowl of miso.

Denji lifted it with shaking hands, allowing Aki to realize just how severely malnourished he was– it unsettled him. He gulped down large gulps at a time, including the tofu he’d cut into small squares. With a watchful eye, he reached over the table, grabbing a fistful of fish. Aki’s eyes twitched in irritation. It wasn’t his fault, he reminded himself, trying to calmly clean the bits of meat he’d left while Denji ate from his hand. “Use your chopsticks,” He reminded.

“I don’t know how.” Of course he didn't, another item on his list.

He put away their meal shortly after, Denji’s scent something akin to fear as the food was packaged up. He showed his little roommate the bento box he’d prepared, “For tomorrow.” He promised, hoping to help quell the food insecurity ingrained in him. Then came the problem of bathing– Normal Denji had no manners when it came to his bathroom, but he did bathe. This Denji stared at the tub with apprehension, his hands trembling like he was reliving a bad memory. “The water is going to get cold if you wait any longer.” He prompted.

Denji shook his head. “I don’t want to.” He shrunk back, clenching his fists.

“You need a bath. You’re dirty. And your clothes need to be washed as well.” He says, which only makes the other more upset.

“No!” He yells, scrambling past Aki and disappearing around the corner. Aki yelps, then bound after him.

“Don’t run around inside!” He yells, gripping his thin shoulder. Denji slips beneath him, falling on his ass before trying to crawl away again. He growled, gripping his thin ankle to keep him in place. “Oh no you don't,” He chastised, irritated and unconsciously growling. He hadn’t made that noise in a long time, reserved for most people when they scolded pups.

“Let go!” Denji cries, his scent spiking in genuine terror as he kicks his ankle out. He’s thrashing too hard, he worries, softening his grip to prevent him from dislocating a bone. “I don’t want to! Pochita– Pochita!” He hiccups, clawing at the wooden floor in desperation. Aki’s expression softened, realizing just how scared he was.

“Hey– look...” Aki laid his hand between his shoulder blades, lightly rubbing. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to grab you so hard, but I do need you to clean yourself. It’s good for you.” Denji sniffled, turning his head to look back at him.

“Don’ wanna…” He slurred. “You’re gonna hurt me.”

“I wouldn’t do that–” He nearly gasped, repulsed at what he was insinuating. “Why would you even think that?”

“Why else would you want to take my clothes?”

“Denji,” His expression drops, softened by the extent of the kid's trauma. “I wouldn’t— I only want you to feel better. I wouldn’t have even stayed in the room while you were washing, and I already have a shirt of mine you can wear after. Your clothes are dirty, and you’re going to get sick if you’re not already.” He explains, his nose twitching at the end as if to prove his point. “I understand this is uncomfortable, it is for me too, but I need you to try for one night. If it’s too much, we can try something else.” Denji thinks it over for a bit, his small form still racked with little sobs and gasps. Eventually, he nods, letting Aki lift him up and soothe him. He buries his face into Aki’s scent, crying against him. He wasn’t even sure why he was upset anymore– only that this boy who’d come into his life was soft and warm and smelt like sunlight. He had to be dreaming– nothing was ever this good. His tummy felt warm and full with soup and now– the promise of a bath just sounded too nice to not be a trick. He didn’t want to have to pay him back– wasn’t he in enough debt already? When he played games with the collectors, it only got him about 50 yen, not enough to pay this guy back.

“What’s your name..?” He decided to ask, finally. He had to be with the Yakuza, right? A nice Yakuza. “Aki.” He answered, and Denji liked that name, committing it to his memory.

He agrees to bathe, partially because he was in visible pain (who wouldn’t be, if they were also a starved child?), and mostly because he trusted Aki. He’s surprised when after, Denji crawls into the same bed as him, despite Aki having cleaned up what was his original room to sleep in. “It’s cold,” Denji complained, soaking his pillows with his wet hair. He grimaces.

“I see,” Aki replied, flipping off the lamp, hoping they’d both just go to sleep.

“I sleep with Pochita every night,” He continued. His chest felt warm seeing a pup swallowed in his shirt, covered in scent. It’s instinct, he thought, rolling onto his side to face him while he talked. He did smell better, more milky and strawberry-ish, like pups were supposed to smell.

“Is that so?”

“Mhmm.” He nodded. “Because he’s really warm and I tell him stories. I hope he doesn’t get too lonely tonight.”

“He won’t.”

“He won’t believe me when I tell him about today.”

“I see...”

“I haven’t been in a real bed since… my whole whole life.”

“Then you should get some sleep.” Aki grunts, looking over at the clock. 11 PM, he’s grateful Makima gave him a week off to handle this. It’s unsettling, having little Denji stare at him with a wide eye while he was trying to go to bed.

“What if I wake up tomorrow, and it was all a dream?” He asked.

“You won’t.”

“I hope I have more nice dreams, if it is.”

“Goodnight, Denji, get some rest.” He murmurs, turning away from him. Denji scoots closer, his smaller face pressed against his nape.

"Ni’...” Denji yawns, and Aki pretends to be asleep before wrapping a protective arm around him.

Chapter Text

Aki awoke the next morning with Denji still curled against him, the pup's soft snores filling the quiet apartment. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of protectiveness as he looked down at the sleeping child, his nose twitching at the hint of milk and cinnamon. His condition had improved since last night, it seemed.

Carefully, Aki extracted himself from the bed, not wanting to disturb Denji's much-needed rest. As he stood, he couldn't help but notice how his shirt was much too large, hanging off one shoulder and exposing his collarbones. 

Aki's instincts immediately flared up at the sight of the vulnerable pup, a low growl rumbling in his throat. He couldn’t believe the extent of poverty Denji had grown up in— how had any of the adults in his life allowed this to happen? The alphas, the omegas who should have protected him – had they been blind? Cruel?

Pup Shelters were no good— That, Aki knew —They were often overcrowded, understaffed, and breeding grounds for further trauma. However, that had to have been better than walking around covered in grime, not knowing when your next meal would be. He doesn’t think much about it, rubbing his cheek against Denji’s own before covering him with the fluffy comforter, satisfied at his herbal scent mixing with Denji’s. He’s surprised at how naturally it comes to him now, habits he’d long forgotten from when he was a pup. 

With a sigh, he makes his way into the bathroom.

He splashed water on his face, scrubbing away the last bits of sleep, and brushed his teeth. The minty flavor did little to dispel the lingering unease he felt. He wasn’t sure what he was going to do with Denji today. He needed clothes, proper clothes that fit , that weren't hand-me-downs too big for his frame. But that required going to the store. He didn’t know if Denji would behave in public, given the way he had tried to run away last night. Even if it was because of a bad memory, that would prove troublesome in a public setting where he could get lost. But, he didn’t have someone to sit Denji while he went out– no one he trusted, at least. Considering Makima made something stir uncomfortably in his chest, though he wasn’t sure why. 

I’ll have to bring him, he sighed. He had only a week to find a way to reverse Denji’s condition, unless—by some miracle—it resolved itself. The chances were very unlikely. What am I going to do then? 

Not yet. Coffee firs t, he told himself, clinging to the familiar ritual. Then I'll figure it out. He needed to think clearly, to plan a course of action, and that required caffeine.

The kitchen was dimly lit, the early morning sun barely breaking through the curtains, baking the counter in a warm glow. Aki filled the kettle with water, the metallic slosh echoing in the quiet room. He slid open the balcony door, the cool morning air a welcome contrast to the stuffiness of the apartment, lighting a cigarette. The first drag was a relief, the nicotine easing the tension in his shoulders. He thought of Denji– who he hoped would still be resting– and concerns he had for his behavior. I doubt he’d like to see a specialist. He took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling into the air before he flicked the butt into an ashtray, making his way back inside.

Aki watched the water boil, the kettle whistling a shrill song that seemed to amplify the weight of his thoughts. He poured the steaming water over the coffee grounds, the rich aroma filling the kitchen, a small comfort in the face of his anxiety. He took a tentative sip, the hot liquid burning pleasantly down his throat. 

He glanced towards the closed bedroom door, straining his ears to be sure he wasn’t awake yet. He knew he couldn't avoid the inevitable. He had to bring Denji with him. Leaving him alone in the apartment was out of the question. The thought of the pup feeling abandoned again, alone with his fears, twisted at Aki's gut. But the store… That was the problem. Denji's reaction to the outside world had been unpredictable, volatile even. The fear in his eyes, the desperate attempt to escape – it was a raw, visceral response born from trauma. 

Aki never had any use for his pheromones. He wasn’t interested in taking a mate, and his scent wasn’t as agitating as other alpha’s. Himeno had mentioned on one occasion how much she loved his scent. “I’d mistake you for some weird kinda’ beta,” She slurred, lifting her pinky as she gulped down the can of beer. “Not in a bad way, it’s just that you don’t stink, like some other people in the department.” He guessed that’s what Makima was referring to when she called him atypical. 

He wished he had practice– He closes his eyes, imagining Denji’s smell from earlier, trying to replicate it from memory. After a few moments, he’d managed to shift his scent to something more earthy– but it lacked the same sweet undertones pups had. It’ll have to do, he thought, rubbing the glands on his neck to spread it across his hands as well. Aki kneaded his hands together, coating them in the diluted, earthy scent. It was a crude imitation, but hopefully, it would be enough to soothe the pup’s anxiety.

Aki reached out a tentative hand, gently brushing a stray strand of blond hair from Denji's forehead. The pup stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. His brown irises were still hazy with sleep, widening with fear before recognizing Aki. "Hey," Aki murmured, his voice low and soothing. "Good morning." He kept his tone gentle, hoping he was coming off as nurturing, rather than unbothered and uninterested. Denji blinked, his gaze darting around the room as if reorienting himself. 

“Oh.” Denji’s mouth fell open into a little “o”, gripping the comforter with his smaller hands. Aki frowned, his nails were dirty. 

“We’re having last night's dinner for breakfast.” He stated, “Is that okay with you?” Aki was trying to give him options, but Denji squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, like he’d rather be swallowed whole. He sighed, gesturing for him to follow. 

Denji’s feet padded behind him as they moved int o the kitchen. Aki could smell his unease, which in turn, unnerved him. He didn’t think it would be ethical to buy any scent blockers for someone his age, even if they were only suppressants. Pups were required to be at least 13 before applying their first blockers, in order to prevent any potential damage to their underdeveloped scent glands. Under closer inspection, Denji did have scarring on both sides of his neck that stretched around to his nape. They bubbled up from where he was either punctured with fangs or another sharp object. Judging by the location, Aki suspected the former. 

Denji, again, ate with his hands, but he didn’t have the heart to scold him again for it. When he was finished, Aki took his plate, rinsing it in the sink and setting it aside to dry. 

“We’re going out today.” He spoke, breaking the awkward silence between them. “You need clothes. Yours are too big for you.” 

“I don’t have any money.” Denji frowned. 

“That’s fine.” Aki shrugged. “I do.” 

“But–” The pup frowned, his pheromones indicating his suspicion. Seeming to know better, he shut his mouth, clenching his hands in frustration. 

“Just clothes.” He promised. “Nothing else. Don’t worry about paying me back. I’m in charge of your care.” 

“My care…” Denji repeated, meeting his gaze. “I don’t get it. Why are you doing all… this?” He gestured, his eyes welling up. “Nobody does this! Not for me! It’s all bad!” He hiccuped, pounding his hands against each side of his temple. Aki gasped, quickly grasping his smaller wrists, a bit too forcefully. Denji screamed, thrashing and kicking his legs out, slamming them into his midsection as hard as he could.

“Knock it off!” Aki growled, clicking his fangs in warning. Denji sobbed, bearing his neck out of instinct, going deathly still as he repeated soft no’s between his cries. Aki released his grip, letting Denji’s arm fall uselessly to his side. 

His heart hammered against his ribs. The pup was frozen, his small body trembling like a leaf in a storm. The scent of pure, unadulterated terror wafted from him, a sharp, metallic tang that stung Aki’s nostrils. He felt a wave of guilt wash over him, cold and sickening. He hadn’t meant to scare him, but his own frayed nerves and the pup's sudden outburst had triggered a reaction he hadn't managed to contain. 

Stig ma against alpha’s was nowhere as bad as the ones against beta’s and omega’s. Even so, it did sting to suddenly act like the out of control, aggressive animals he’d always turned his nose up at. He forces himself to quell his disgust, focus on damage control instead of wallowing in his usual self-loathing. 

“Denji…” He started, unsure of what to do with his hands. He placed an open palm against the pup’s back, running it along his spine then back down again, his protruding bones poking through his clothing. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have gotten short with you.” He continued, Denji peeking through his hands. “I’m just… frustrated. It’s not you.”

The boy didn’t make any moves beneath him, so he stood up, still prepared incase Denji decided to bolt. He didn’t.

It was chilling, the way he looked at him. Aki couldn’t read his expression– though he recognized it. He’d seen it on several occasions between pup shelters, detached, distant, as adults would describe it. He waited for anything– for him to blink, to scream, to do something– 

What he didn’t expect was the pup to lurch forward, burying himself into his neck and inhaling his scent. He recoiled until he noticed he was purring, despite his lingering apprehension. He wrapped his arm around the small of his back, blinking his eyes in surprise. 

“I’m sorry,” Denji murmurs into his neck, rubbing his small cheek against him. “You’re the only person who’s nice to me– please don’t hate me–”

“I don’t.” Aki answers, pulling him away so he could face him directly. Denji looked down at his hands, biting his lip. 

“I was bad.” Denji murmured. “I kicked you.” 

“It’s fine.” He ran his fingers through the tangled, blonde locks. “I shouldn’t have grabbed you.” 

“You can hit me.”

What?

“I’m not doing that.” He stated, firmly. His throat rumbled with a small growl as he spoke. “Denji, look, I don’t know all of what happened here– but I’m not going to hit you. Pups don’t get hit. It’s not okay.” 

“Even when they’re bad?” He asked, his brown eyes wide, as if discovering an alien concept.

“Yes.” Aki nodded. “When people do that– it’s abuse. Did you know that?” 

“No.” 

“Even when someone misbehaves, you should teach them what they did wrong. Sometimes, pups don’t understand why they’re being hit, so they don’t learn.” 

Denji nodded eagerly, fidgeting with his fingers. “So– you’re… not going to hit me.” 

“No.” Aki shook his head. “Denji, if you ever think someone is going to do that– call the police, okay? Most people wouldn’t leave a pup in danger.” 

“Okay.” He nodded, his scent shifting to something bitter. It didn’t take a mindreader to guess what he was thinking– In that case, why didn’t anyone save me? 

Aki wasn’t sure if Denji would be okay going to the stores after his earlier incident, but he insisted he could do it, so he relented. In the backseat, Denji played with the hem of Aki’s shirt, curiously bringing it to his nose every few moments. 

“Can I keep it?” When Aki shrugged and agreed, he smiled, like he’d received his first ever gift. 

He took him grocery shopping first– Denji’s eyes wide as he stared at the aisles of food. “You’ve been inside a store before.” Aki huffed, letting him sit inside the cart.

“Not really. I’m always just looking in.” He doesn’t comment on that, placing an extra carton of chocolate milk beside his own normal one. 

Clothes were another issue he wasn’t prepared for. The first few Denji put on, he wore backwards or inside out. When corrected, he insisted it didn’t matter, that he wasn’t trying to look good, only stay warm. 

Aki sat with him on his lap, helping him pull his head through the hole, then assessing how well it fit. “Do you like this one?” He asked, pointing to the mirror in front of them. 

“It looks stupid.” Denji huffed. “It’s too small, feels tight.” 

He doesn’t remind him that clothes are supposed to be fitting.

Denji has scars all over his body, ones that he didn’t have in the present day. It ranged from deep, long gashes across his abdomen to raised, purple wounds that had become keloid. The worst he glimpsed on his thighs while changing, audibly growling at the flash of mauve claw marks just between his upper thigh and lower midsection, Denji swirling around at the noise and raising a brow. He waved dismissively, turning away to continue sifting through racks of clothing. 

T hey settle on a few different shirts and a pair of sweats. No pajamas, because Denji claims he could just sleep in Aki’s shirts. “There’s no reason to waste money, when you could spend it on something else really good!” He declared loudly, earning a few concerned stares from other people with their pups. 

On the ride home, Denji bites his fingers, drawing blood and sucking it between his lips. He laps at the wound for a minute, then repeats the cycle, starting at his nail bed to the pads of his digits. 

“That’s a bad habit.” Aki says, gently. 

“So is smoking.” Denji spits, surprisingly irritable. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

“I’m an adult.” He scowls. “It’s different. Chewing on your fingers is unhygienic.” 

“Not everybody gets to be clean all the time.” The pup bites back, pointing to his eyepatch. “I got this one out in an alleyway. Bet you couldn’t do that.” 

Aki stares, concerned. “Did you need it out?” He hadn’t even factored in possible health concerns, mentally scolding himself for not bringing him to a walk-in clinic while they were out. 

“No, but I needed money.” Denji shrugs, like that makes it any better. 

“Don’t bite your fingers anymore.” He says, turning back to the road. 

Denji doesn’t listen, splitting skin between his canines.

He ends up carrying the pup inside, having fallen asleep on the car ride home. His thumb is still between his teeth, whining when Aki pulls it free. 

In the elevator, an omega with their own pup peeks at Denji, purring in a way omegas did when pleased. “How old is he?” They asked. 

“Twelve.” He lies, because he’s not entirely sure. Denji was smaller than he should be, bones poking out in ways that looked like they’d burst through the skin if he moved the wrong way. If he had to guess– developmentally, he’d be around five or six right now, judging from his ability to talk back and his mobility. His mentality, on the other hand, was all over the place, switching from an even younger pup to a full grown adult. Consequence of instability, he thought. 

“Cute.” The omega coo’s, smiling down at the sleeping blonde. “You should get him some formula, though. I can smell some illness on him.” 

“Formula? For illness?” He questions. He has to resist the urge to wrinkle his nose at the sickeningly sweet smell of omega, turning his head away.

“Milk protects pups' well being for the first six months of life.” They explain, subtly gesturing to their own pup, who was in much better health than his Denji. “If they’re weaned too early, or any other factors in life, their immune system can go haywire. My daughter just had a pretty nasty infection, the probiotics in formula really helped her feel better.”

“I see.” He mused, thanking them as they stepped onto their floor. He bounces Denji lighting, pressing his nose beneath his ear to scent for illness. It wasn’t anything new, the same one he’d caught whiff of yesterday. When Denji whined and shifted, he purred apologetically, mimicking the same vibration he’d heard from the omega. The pup settled, burying his face into Aki’s shirt to hide from the bright light of day. 

Taking him inside, he lays him down on the couch, covering him with a blanket before putting away groceries. Somehow, I don’t think chocolate milk will improve his health , he hums, reading through the ingredients on the carton. Just as a treat, I’ll have to buy something with more nutritional value. 

At least it won’t be long term, he thinks. Denji will change back, so don’t buy too much of anything. When he’s finished, he checks on the pup again, who had rolled off the couch and was half under the floor table, drooling. Amused, he pokes his side with his foot. “Get up. You can go lay down in your room.” 

“It's comfortable.” Denji mumbled, rubbing sleep from his eye. “Don’t wanna move…” 

“The floor isn’t for sleeping.” He says, poking his side again. “Go lay on the couch if you’re too tired to make it to your room.” 

Denji pouted in response, stretching out his arms and making grabby-hands at Aki, wanting to be carried. At first, he was going to refuse– but Denji did look tired, making his inner alpha ache and want to protect . He scooped the blonde onto his hip, adjusting him until he had enough of a grip to confidently hold the pup.

“Are we going to eat tonight?” Denji asked, chewing on his fingers again .

“I was thinking about simmered mackerel and… mushrooms.”  

“Sounds yummy.” 

It takes longer, only working with one arm. Denji is light, but he still has to take breaks to breathe between steps. Denji watches his actions with an air of curiosity, tugging on Aki’s shirt when he wanted a taste of something. After the first few times, Aki sighed, eventually just pouring a cup of chocolate milk into a glass for him. “Go sit at the table. Use both hands.” 

When he plates and serves, he has Denji sit next to him, helping him scoop food into his mouth. Denji leaned against his chest, opening his mouth expectantly after every bite. The longer they stayed like that, the more the pup's eyelids drooped. Aki hummed, satisfied. “You tired?” He murmured, his hand rubbing rhythmically over the small of his back, working between his shoulder blades. Denji whines and nods, almost spilling his drink when reaching for it. Aki tsk’s, bringing it to his lips to sip at. “You could ask for help.”

“M’ not a baby…” Denji growls, his vocal vibrating in a childish, unthreatening way. It’s almost enough to make Aki smile. “I can do it myself.”

“That reminds me. How old are you, Denji?” 

“Dunno.” He shrugs, letting his head fall back so he could look up at the alpha. “Eight… I think?” 

“Eight?” He repeats, surprised. That’s younger than I would’ve guessed… “You’re very… grown up.” 

“Thanks.” Denji hums, shifting in his arms. The Denji he knew was louder, more childlike than this version. It unsettles him, the difference. In his mind, he can’t connect the two. If there wasn’t the visual confirmation that this was Denji, he would have assumed Makima handed him some random kid. 

“Go lay down,” He instructs, his mood suddenly tampered by the revelation. “I’ll check on you in a bit, so you better be asleep.” The pup nods, half-crawling-half-running to the restroom to wash up. He picks up the dishes to distract himself, filling the sink with warm, soapy water. 

Eight. He was eight years old and already facing what most adults would never come to experience in their lifetime. His chest aches as he dries each dish. 

When he checks on Denji, he isn’t in his room. He finds him curled up in his bed, nose buried in his pillow and snoring softly. Aki slots himself beside him, placing his hands on his chest and waiting for sleep. 

That night, he wakes up to the sound of dry heaving and crying. Panicked, he rips the sheets off Denji, revealing that he’d somehow gotten even smaller . 

“Aki…” Denji whimpers, fat tears rolling down his flushed cheeks. He extends his arms shakily, begging to be held. His puffy eyes, round cheeks, and scruffy hair nearly breaks his heart. He looks so sad. “Hurts– make it stop–!” 

“I’m sorry–” Aki pulls him close, searching for his phone administ the chaos. “I’m sorry, Denji. I don’t know how to make it stop. I’ll get help, okay?” 

Denji shakes his head, sobbing into the other's chest. He fumbles with his phone, flicking through his contacts with urgency. He hesitates, but hearing the pups wailing, he dials. 

“Hello?” Makima answers, her voice tinged with a hint of sleep he’d never heard before. He swallows, his mouth suddenly dry. 

“Miss Makima, I need help.”