Tokyo, there was no snow. There was only the rhythmic, deafening thrum-thrum-thrum of the M1911 barrel protruding from Akiâs forehead and the belt-fed remains of his left arm.
Denji stood in the center of the wreckage, Blood Chainsaw held low, his chest heaving. He wasn't looking at a monster; he was looking at his brother, who was smiling at something that wasn't there while his body systematically erased the neighborhood. The Final Out Gun Devil (Hayakawa Aki)
"Hey, Aki! Catch!" Denji yelled, ducking behind a mound of snow. Tokyo, there was no snow
