Ardent Hope: Chainsaw Man x Male Reader Insert.

7. Memories of Nobody.

Hell was abstract.

It never stayed the same throughout the time she spent there. Sometimes, the sky was completely covered by the strange sight of a sea of locked doors, and sometimes it was just a mass of empty pitch black void that seemed to gaze upon every resident of the cursed place. Sometimes she would enjoy the burnt and ashy smells of the flowers that blossomed on the grass, and sometimes she would see herself in the reflection of the blood rivers that crossed neverending and lost themselves into the horizons.

It was a strange sight.

Even though at the start Hell seemed completely empty aside from the occasional devil that roamed the lands, the realm seemed to slowly start to fill itself with countless beings. Every one of those beings seemed to fear something, and in return, they took the form and shape of something humans feared. She didn't even know when did she became aware of the presence of humans, but the only thing she knew, is that she hated them.

Aside from a couple exceptions, Devils would only fear concepts, or abstract correlations of personifications. It was painfully undeniable of their coexistence, and dependence, on humans. These beings were, after all, souls that merged and took shape on a concept under the establishments of a human's mind, and so they were, at the very depths of their core, parts of the very same essence and origin. Because of this, almost every devil comprehended the machinations of a human's mind, in a way, even if they weren't exactly aware of it. Concepts like life and death were understood the same way for the both of them, as well as the concept of Hell.

Almost every devil feared the punishments of Hell, abstracts as they were.

She did not, though.

But she suffered her punishment.

It was promptly revealed to her that Hell was not exactly a place for punishments and irremediable suffering, but rather, it was constructed to sustain the presence of beings suited to it.

Her... She roamed the lands and depths aimlessly, in perpetual search of something she didn't even know. The petals of the flowers and blades of grass burned under her touch, and scorched every hope she had of feeling something apart of the warmth of her soul. She was lonely, after all, and the greatest punishment of hell was the constant reminding of her state.

Two eternities later, she found herself wandering again at the edges of a blood river that splashed the ground every now and then. The petals of a beautiful red flower she never had seen began to blossom in the very presence of her eyes, and seemed to shine upon the light sparks reflecting on the blood drops. It was arranged in umbels, beautiful stamens curved backwards in decoration. She got on her knees, touched the flower with the golden flames sprouting off of her fingers, and it seemed to accept her in the way she was. The petals of the flower rested on her hands, dancing along the melody of hell's breeze.

(Y/N) woke by the sound of the fire on his heart, a single teardrop falling from his eye.

The moonlight's veil still illuminated the room, coming from the window. He was desperate. He sought comfort in the sheets and tried to get ahold of himself. The loneliness of the dream had crept onto his soul, something he never wished to feel ever again.

Power was right at his side, lying on the bed. Dry droplets of blood stained her loose tank top, as well as (Y/N)'s bottom lip, yet she was in a deep slumber. Her normally mischievous eyes seemed calm, resting.

Seemingly unconsciously, she was able to feel his discomfort, and she scooted closer to his body resting her head against his chest, pulling closer, her hand reaching for his forearm and holding his wrist. He wasn't alone, after all...

He was lulled promptly after by the sound of the wind and Power's gentle heartbeats, still dreaming of the memories of nobody.