Chapter Text
Haitani Rindou did not like school, but because he still possessed a brain despite being related to the princess that was Haitani Ran, he attended class on a somewhat regular basis. Teachers would never actually fail him or his older brother, but as it were, he happened to like not ruining his future and therefore exercised his brain.
School it was.
Aside from wanting to learn and not be a total idiot even though he would never go into academics, there was the perk of having a few hours to himself without... He was about to compare Ran to a shadow, but it was more accurate to say he was the shadow to Ran's fashion iconicism. (Because blood splatters were clearly so attractive on expensive bleached braids that Rindou was just waiting to cut off in the middle of the night should Ran go too far by, say, not putting the trash out when they had explicitly agreed that was his part of the chores.) Point being: Ran got to waltz around on his own and Rindou got to feel as smart as his glasses made him look. The only problem with this was that while he got a break from his older brother, there were people in his classes and sometimes, these people had the absurd notion that having spent over two years together meant he did not mind talking to them.
As it were, Rindou did mind. He didn't care what tests people were nervous for, or to lend out a pencil for whatever reason, or to waste time talking during and about other people's lunches. Other people were inconsequential and boring and could fuck off.
However, he had to admit (grudgingly) to himself, he was still a seventeen year old man (not a boy, Ran was just a piece of shit) and therefore, there were a select few people at school he could stand: a group of people he supposed he could be loosely associated with in the sense that he sometimes allowed them to join him at his favorite spot beneath the cherry tree for lunch or walked with one or two of them from class to PE or, sometimes, even encounter outside of school.
You were part of this group. Lively and doting, and kind of sexy, the fourteen year old him had considered dating you for a solid three seconds after you first introduced yourself. It went something like this: you slid onto his table, all smiles, and asked if you could borrow his pen since you had forgotten your bag in the voodoo cellar of a closed down restaurant with a horrid rat infestation that would surely lead to a plague, but as mentioned before, Rindou did not care to lend out his pencils, and told you just that, to which you promptly scowled and left with the words: "You know nothing, young Padawan, you shall fear my bag for all eternity."
In his defense, the reason he considered dating you at the time was because he was fresh out of juvie and was faced with a lively, colorful girl with tits and ass the people he'd hung out with behind the fence would surely rant about.
On the other hand, even though you must have forgotten about your threat since that kind of half-citation nonsense spewed from your lips the moment somebody made the mistake of letting you speak, he did indeed find himself with a degree of disdain for any and all bags in your possession as you had adopted the annoying habit of smacking him with them whenever you thought he was being insensitive.
"You dickhead," you'd cry, and right on cue, your purse repeatedly struck his shoulder, "you absolute bastard! You're the AT&T of people! You're a narrow-minded, evil amoeba who can't even spare a bit of empathy for the one good thing in your life!"
Once you'd ranted your heart out, you would proceed to recommend psychologists and councilors and would spend however long you needed to calm down looking up even more contacts you suggested he use, until he finally rejected all your attempts at reforming his character and you slumped, exhausted.
"I need a drink," you'd sigh, looking like you carried the weight of the world on your shoulders. Feeling a little sympathetic to whatever was burdening you (must be a lot, for somebody as energetic and perky as you to look dead) he would peel you off whatever surface you were osmosing with and spend the rest of the evening, night and early morning making up for lost juvie years.
Haitani Rindou also made the mistake of considering kissing you, once, during one of these occasional outings. The thought became revolting very quickly when you asked him, sincere, if you should order a Bloody Mary or some licorice cocktail instead. His stomach still churned today: how uncultured you were, both were horrendous and he actively avoided you for a while following that incident.
Now he was soon to turn eighteen, and Rindou was amazed at how utterly put off he was by you. Logically speaking he should not be, because you were what any man who tore down other boys and got sent away for murder should want, but here he was instead, fighting the nausea that you elicited whenever you ordered the wrong bubble tea (what psychopath orders the same flavors for all ingredients?), or posed in front of a mirror to see how a new pair of earrings fit in with the other studs in your ears, or sprawled all over the road in the middle of the night after a drink too much even though it dirtied your stupidly matching and elaborate outfits.
You and Rindou were not, however, friends. This he told himself whenever he felt alarmed by how often you threw yourself onto the couch after school during that precious hour he had home to himself before Ran would come home and it was time to patrol their territory.
(Rindou did love Ran, he did, but if he thought too actively about it he might admit it to him and that would mean the end of fighting in peace alongside his brother; he'd be teased endlessly, even while he held people down for his brother to land the final blow.)
There was Ran, gangs, and fancy hair dye products in his life, in that order.
You were someplace around twenty or twenty-five in terms of importance. He'd prefer for you to stick around and not die, but he wouldn't really be bothered if you stopped appearing so obnoxiously in his life. As mentioned before, he did not actively try to meet up with that group of acquaintances(?) from school, and he was still mystified by how often it ended up just being you and him walking from school to his home to play Mario Kart. He couldn't figure out how it happened: you never asked and he never implied you were welcome, but suddenly he realized the two of you were no longer at the school gates but in an intense competition on Rainbow Road and he needed to kick you out before Ran came home.
That was one of his fears. You and Ran could never meet: the universe would rip at the sheer amount of nonsense gathered in one place.
The tentative peace (if there could ever be such a thing as peace in his life) lasted four months. He almost liked it, yet was glad for the almost bit when it ended abruptly - otherwise he'd have to mourn.
Ran was waiting for him outside the school gates.
Rindou knew this instinctively a whole second before actually laying eyes on the beanpole leaning against the gates like some edgy model, all lazy eyes and leather gloves; he'd known like a shadow against his mind, or perhaps he'd glimpsed his actual shadow from the corner of his eye, or maybe it was the way students (not so) subtly gave him space, like giving him the wide berth they clearly wanted was somehow offensive. Maybe it was. Rindou, if it wasn't clear by now, did not care as long as they weren't in his face like you kind of were right that moment, rambling about the latest chapter of whatever gore manga you were reading.
"I'm inspired for my next fanfic," you stated, nose in the air and eyes shining like glass buttons that had been scrubbed too clean after being stained by blood (or maybe not exactly like that, but as that was what he'd spent yesterday evening doing it was what came to mind), "when the main character gets her revenge on the mofo who killed her sister, she's gonna rip out his collarbones and gouge his eyes out with them and then stuff his eyeballs into his throat for him to choke on."
Normally he'd respond differently, but today he needed to not have your arm through the crook of his (when did that happen? Why did it feel so normal?) while Ran was watching. So he said: "Sure. You forgot your art project inside, isn't it due tomorrow?"
Your face drained of all color. "I have an art project due tomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Fuck," you hissed, glancing around you as though your teacher stood behind you, ready to fail you already. "Fuck fuck fuck, I'm gonna have to figure something out. It's fine. I'll just make an expressionist thing again. I'm very good at those when high on five espressos at three in the morning."
Rindou handed you his box of caffeine pills even though there couldn't possibly be any art project due tomorrow and with barely a thanks, you sprinted back inside. If it weren't for the fact that Ran would definitely notice, he'd have slugged the guy who leered when you rushed past. He'd have to trust your miraculous luck would somehow result in an accident for the guy. The last thing he needed was Ran teasing him about a girlfriend.
"She your girlfriend?" Ran asked the moment he reached him, looking like a fox about to sneak into the chicken coop.
"No," Rindou frowned, digging around for the key to his motorcycle. "I've never met her before in my life."
"I see," Ran brightened, gleeful and patronizing. "You'll get her, don't worry. She's a catch, you're a catch, and-"
Rindou drove off before he had to hear the rest.
.
The next day, it turned out there was indeed an art project deadline that you barely managed to keep up with, somehow getting full marks, and in your happiness you slammed the door close right on the face of the douche who'd ogled you yesterday, effectively breaking his nose.
"Sorry," you beamed, stepping over his crumpled form to catch up to Rindou.
"You have blood on your shirt," he said, reluctantly letting you redo his tie.
"Eh, if I add some paint splatters it'll be fine," you shrugged. Your lips were pale pink today, he noticed, matching the dangling mess of earrings your wore that glittered and sparkled every time you shook your head. "Did you talk to the school councilor this morning?"
"No."
Those glossy lips tightened dangerously, nostrils flared, and you pulled yourself up to your full height as though that meant anything in the face of Haitani gangliness. "Rin-chan! I've told you to talk to somebody for ages now, even a school councilor will do at this point!"
"There's nothing to talk about," he maintained, starting down the hallway to eat lunch beneath the cherry tree.
"Rin-chan," you said in a voice you probably thought was level, jogging to keep up, "you know I'd never judge you, but I still strongly advise you address at least one of your problems, preferably the one where murder is nothing but I'll take you working on your emotional incapabili- HEY WAIT UP!"
You were panting by the time you caught up, clutching your nefarious bag to your heaving chest while Rindou started eating. For a moment you looked like you were about to start listing all the vile things he was in your eyes, but instead you sighed and smacked him across the head with your messenger bag before sinking down next to him, safely nestled between the roots.
Soon that handful of your group of friends who Rindou supposed were his acquaintances joined as well, laughing without a care in the world as they inhaled the contents of their bento boxes.
"Let food be thy medicine and medicine be thy food," you said sagely, "I think some old bearded guy said it a million years ago."
"Hippocampus," one friend suggested.
You shook your head, lighting up as though the stupid comment had made you see the truth of the universe. "Hippocrates."
Rindou reached out and stole cucumber from you, and without even glancing back you handed him the rest of your lunch which he, after a long-suffering sigh because principles, proceeded to devour.
"Is part of the brain really named after a philosopher?" One of them asked.
"Dunno, but I doubt it," you waved away their skepticism.
Eventually, after allowing you to steal one of his chicken slices in return for making sure he ate vegetables, somebody asked: "What's that on your shirt?"
You brightened even more, clapping your hands eagerly. "Paint, I got full marks for my art project! Like, I only got two hours of sleep tonight but it turned out amazing, I'm not even sure how that's possible. I might be superhuman."
"You do have pretty insane luck," somebody supposed.
You nodded. "It is known."
"It is known," echoed your gaggle of friends.
"You're all idiots," Rindou condemned, looking away and wishing he were on a different planet.
"Rin-chan!" You cried, outraged, smacking his arm with the strap of you bag, "I am wisdom itself! I will be the god of the new world-"
Eventually the others left, wishing him a good day, and he was left with two lunchboxes and a you passed out on the grass due to food coma.
"I'm going to leave you on the ground," he threatened, preparing to stand up and skip school the rest of the day.
You said something intelligent like, "eugharh," and it was pure coincidence that he needed to linger at the tree to stretch his back until you'd gotten to your feet. There was indeed still a constellation of blood stains on your shirt, now darkened into rusty brown, but he was sure you'd be able to remove them: girls were good at washing away blood, weren't they?
Would you be better at washing away bloodstains on his clothes than him and his brother were?
Probably.
"If you wash some of my clothes, I'll buy you a pet turtle," he offered, rewarded with a slow blink.
"Three," you bargained, "and if you help buy their aquarium and stuff I'll wash all your clothes the rest of my life."
"Fine, whatever you say."
You sent him your special flashlight smile, wrapping your arms around his waist and pressing a sticky kiss to his cheek. "You're the best."
"Duh," he smirked instead, because he was pretty awesome on his own, too.
After handing you a bag of bloodstained clothes when passing by his apartment, he sent you on your way because he still had a district to run and a brother to be with, and It Wasn't Like The Two Of You Were Actually Close.
"But my turtles," you started, but after a few jabs in your back that made you stumble toward the stairs you gave up and yelled, loud enough for all the residents on the floor to hear: "DON'T THINK I'LL FORGET ABOUT YOUR PROMISE! I will be the Naruto to your Sakura!"
About to close the apartment door, he recognized Ran's footsteps ascending the staircase, and felt his heart freeze, watching you turn around and bump into his brother in slow-motion. Ran's eyes, slowly brightening with that familiar glee, drifted from the bag of dirty clothes cradled in your arms to Rindou's face, which, the younger brother was starting to realize, still had a pale pink imprint.
"I'll make sure he doesn't forget his promise," Ran assured you in a low voice, a hand on his heart and other splayed in the air like he was Hisoka, definitely misunderstanding Everything.
You stared at him, thankfully registering the violet irises and deducing he was the older brother in the infamous Haitani duo. "Okay, um, great, thanks." Then you squared your shoulders, giving Rindou one last glare: "Liar!"
"Next time," he tried.
Ran hid a smirk behind a tastefully raised hand. "No trouble in paradise, I hope? Drama is the worst."
Within the context of obviously not actually being friends, Rindou was still relieved that he hung out with somebody who wasn't a total idiot either and was able to pick up on the poison honey tone, if only because you were cut from the same cloth.
"No," you chirped, hugging the bag of clothes closer, "no trouble! Rin-chan is far too mature for drama, anyway."
Off you were. Ran gave his brother a sweet smile.
"Ready to go, Rin-chan?"
.
It took Rindou a while to convince Ran he was not dating you. It didn't help that when he tried to explain that he had no idea how you always ended up hanging around, Ran answered that maybe he should just tell you to leave if you colonizing the couch was that annoying, which led to Rindou feeling like he was faced with the prospect of drinking pure acid.
It was disconcerting.
He therefore did not tell you to leave, and on top of that he started thinking a little more about why you always ended up at his place or him and you at a café or park or even him at your place from time to time: there was a bit of an open invitation from both sides, wasn't there?
That was even more disconcerting. Was he really spending that much time with some classmate?
Yes. Yes he was. You knew him, knew what he got up to, and still liked him, even when he was painfully blunt or insensitive and apparently needed psychiatric help. It was kind of nice.
Rindou and (Y/N). Not the second half of The Haitani Brothers: Ran and Rindou.
Just-
Just him.
He could live with that. He wasn't sure what the two of you were, but he appreciated it for a whole five minutes before you started cackling hysterically at a karaoke bar when it was his turn to sing. Before he could throw the microphone at you, though, you somehow appeared next to him, slinging an arm around his waist and singing with him. It was a motherly arm, kind of at odds with your grin but warm nonetheless.
At least, he imagined this was what a motherly arm felt like.
Now that you and Ran had met one another he no longer made quite as much of an effort to keep the two of you apart, but he didn't go out of his way to bring two menaces together either, often leaving you after class already if he knew Ran would pass by or remind you that you still needed to cook dinner at your home when it was time for the Haitani Terrors to roam the streets of Tokyo.
But alas, you and Ran still ended up interacting with increasing frequency, even though the conversations remained short and somewhat useless since they only ever occurred when you allowed the older brother to snatch the younger brother away from you.
"She's hot," Ran stated one day after reminding people why Roppongi was theirs. Assuming he meant you and not the decidedly male body at their feet, Rindou shrugged, suspecting where this was going.
"I guess."
"You don't mind if I date her, right?"
Rindou tried not to look too pityingly at his brother. If you did end up dating Ran you'd probably drive him even crazier than he already was, but what was even more likely was that you'd reject him.
"Give it your best shot," he said, entirely unworried. Only yesterday you'd ranted about how you'd decimate the next virtual stranger who asked you out just because they liked your body, and while chances were you'd already forgotten about that promise, the frustration probably lingered.
Rindou witnessed Haitani Ran giving it his best shot.
Standing only a little further away, pretending to have problems with his brakes, he gave his brother enough space to ask you out while still remaining close enough for you not to skip away before Ran could approach.
In hindsight, Rindou might have done well to warn Ran that just because he was tall and handsome and witty and strong and all those other adjectives, it did not mean you were going to swoon. In fact, with Ran standing there in his gang uniform and clearly already assuming you'd want to be his when you didn't even know him, you looked even more blank.
"Er. No thanks. I'd rather not."
Ran's smile became fixed, like he hadn't prepared for this scenario. Rindou was certain his older brother would have the perfect reactions to you blushing and stammering, to you simply saying yes, to you shyly murmuring you'd kind of like to go on a date, and even to you ripping your shirt off and straddling him right then and there.
"Come again?" was his final reaction.
Rindou went still when your lips, peachy today, pursed dangerously. "I don't know you, and I'm not sure I want to, either. You can go now."
Ran's smile, after threatening to fade, widened instead, kind and insincerely apologetic: "I didn't mean to come across as rude."
"I'd hope so," you said, giving him an odd look as though saying, dude, what guy wants to be rude to the girl he's asking out. "Anyway, have a nice day. Bye."
You turned to leave, but Ran's hand closed around your wrist with the words, "one moment," and you whipped back around, first irritated, but then sympathetic.
"I see," you said with the air of somebody about to give The Talk, gently prying his hand away, "rejection is part of life, you know. Er, how to clarify- you say to me, 'You lice! You rats! You refuse me? There is no gentler dove in all Babylon than I' and I answer, 'hey, that quote literally has nothing to do with this, and I do refuse you, and not accepting that makes you very unattractive,' you know?"
Ran gave you a long look that Rindou wished he wasn't able to interpret, but as it were, being brothers meant he also recognized the moment Ran went from thinking about you as just that hot girl to wow, I want to wake up next to you every morning. Gross. Rindou would have to put up with all the fucking if that were to happen, because the wall separating their rooms was thin.
But it was okay. You knew better than to go out with Queen Bee.
"Ah, I didn't mean it that way," Ran smiled, eyes lidded and voice deep, "I wanted to tell you your lipgloss was a bit smudged."
"Oh, alright," you supposed, but still purposefully walked away with a last wave to Rindou. "DON'T THINK I'VE FORGOTTEN ABOUT MY TURTLES!"
You sounded a little mad.
Incidentally, you continued to seem a little mad the following days; dark looks through dark lashes should he speak while you threaded charms onto earring hoops you crafted yourself, waspish retorts ranging from "you suck" to "you're a complete waste of a voice actor", and you neglected to return his clothes that weekend.
Rindou did not appreciate this at all, and it wasn't until he called you a basic bitch and nag in one sentence that you exploded, hit him so much and hard with your bag (full of schoolbooks this time, that usually didn't happen) he suspected you might legitimately have tried to hospitalize him, that you finally got it out of your system. The shouting he could stand, having learned that nodding every now and then was better than listening too actively since between the nonsense there were some razor statements that made his skin prickle with stifled emotions, but then you quieted down: at first he thought you'd exhausted yourself, but instead he felt his stomach churn when you turned away and pretended you weren't quietly crying, looking like a dam you kept locked up tight inside was about to crack.
For a moment, words wouldn't reach him.
He probably hadn't made things easy for you in general, but you looked so lost and fragile for a moment that he suspected with the wrong words he could either get to hear the whole shopping list of burdens he was wholly unequipped to respond to, or get a waterfall of tears he was equally bad at handling.
He patted your shoulder, softened his voice and made a conscious effort to void his face of any usual sneers or smirks, murmuring: "It will be okay. Take the evening off, I'll pay for drinks tonight."
You sniffled, shoulders quivering beneath the thin scarf you'd wrapped over your uniform ("it's so bland") to match your nailpolish. Colorfully topped fingers dug around until you'd found a tissue and phone, turning away from him to fuss over any imperfections in your face.
He let you.
Maybe you were stressing about your future: what to do for work since no amount of cramming would make up for the sheer amount of classes and detentions you'd skipped that resulted in teetering grades that, in turn, meant no university.
Maybe you were stressing about your mom: she was kind and loving, but also a dreadfully stupid bimbo who hadn't realized she was keeping her job because her boss liked her body, not because of her (nonexistent) merits.
Maybe it you were stressing about a friend with an eating disorder, or a cousin who'd overdosed on popping boba, or something else entirely.
It took fifteen minutes before your breathing had returned to normal, returning the uniform jacket he'd draped over your shoulders even though you probably weren't cold.
"Let's go," he said, getting up.
(Vaguely, he remembered he might've been a bit emotional when being sentenced to eighteen months in juvie, a scrawny thirteen year old boy who hid away in the bathroom where nobody could see or hear, only Ran to lean on but knowing that leaning would be seen as a weakness by the older convicts.)
(But that was kind of embarrassing and made him Feel when recalling it, so it was a memory he shredded and pushed away.)
(Ew.)
.
"Should I buy her turtles instead?" Ran asked a week later when they passed by the pet shop, now closed since it was three in the morning and only the worst workaholics, bums, and delinquents were out.
"No," Rindou advised without looking up from his nails, from underneath which he was scraping away dried blood, "that would make you come off as creepy."
"I suppose," Ran said, in deep thought. "Come to think of it, I've never had to woo a girl before, they've always come on to me before. How do you do it?"
He scowled, glasses flashing when averting his attention this time: "You have no idea how offensive that sounds."
"Ah, sorry," Ran smiled, and Rindou elbowed him for the sheer insincerity.
The mentions of you from the taller Haitani did not cease. Every now and then, just when Rindou had forgotten all about Ran's growing affection or (naively) thought time had heaped sand over it, Ran would ask something like:
"Does she listen to hip-hop or rock?"
"Didn't (Y/N) go here last week?"
"She prefers pink and black over other colors, right?"
"Did she really neuter him by kicking him with high heels?"
An unspecified she, he learned, was always you. Statements got progressively worse than the questions.
"This is where I'll buy her new clothes and shoes."
"I'll show her off like she deserves."
"We're going to live in that apartment right there, she'll like the sunset view."
"I'll make sure everybody knows she's mine, she won't be able to walk for days."
The lowest point was easily when Ran left an anonymous breakfast at your doorstep, only for a passerby to steal it. You would never know what goods you'd missed out on, but Ran and Rindou would. (They made sure nobody would ever dare steal from your doorstep again.)
.
"I've never gotten to ride with you before," you bounced on the spot, which could not be good for the high heels of your boots, a teensy bit of smugness seeping into your excitement. "Are you finally admitting I'm the best therapist you've ever had?"
"You're not my therapist," Rindou started, waiting for you to climb on behind him so he could drive to the nearest breakfast place after deciding school would not be worth it that particular day, "but if you were, I'd fire you for being unprofessional."
"Excuse me?"
The wind felt cool and refreshing in his hair as he sped down the street. "You look like you could star in kpop girl bands half of the time."
"Thanks?" You smiled, clearly not agreeing with his logic of this being a bad thing, but because there was clearly ill-intent behind his words you added: "I'm going to steal your glasses and crush them in front of you."
Rindou snorted, lips curling around his teeth. "Or how about I swerve here and let you fall off?"
"No way, my head would go watermelon," you stated, and he could feel you sticking your nose in the air. Critiquing your lack of helmet was a possibility, but that would be hypocritical of him and instead he shook his head, letting himself enjoy the moment.
He would never be hypocritical.
You waved at somebody you pass by, a vaguely familiar boy he suspected was part of the friend group; average face, common name, unobtrusive and entirely forgettable.
"I'm going out with him," you told him cheerily, as though this didn't mean Ran would inevitably find out and rope Rindou into breakup schemes. He tried to come up with something bad to say about the new boyfriend but came up blank: there wasn't really anything bad to say about him, in the sense there was nothing to say about him at all.
"He looks like he was spawned in an archive," he settled for, feeling you hum against his back.
"He wants to be a history teacher," you told him, and went on to list all sorts of very boring things he wants in his life; a dog, kids, the whole shebang. He still wasn't sure how to feel about the New Boyfriend, maybe because he was so forgettable Rindou was already struggling to remember you were going out with him in the first place.
"How long have you dated him?"
"Two weeks," you said, and if the fact that you yourself hadn't even thought to bring him up until now didn't say enough, nothing did.
After eating breakfast and letting you pay the bill as you'd won the lottery with the one ticket you'd bought, you disappeared off to do whatever girls did when skipping and Rindou linked up with Ran, who managed not to ask about you for an impressive hour before not so smoothly bringing you up.
"How's she doing?"
"Well," he replied, letting his gaze linger on a bum who quickly made himself scarce. "How many times are you gonna bring girls who look like her home? I'd like to get a good night's sleep again."
"Noted. When did you last see her?"
"This morning."
"Her neighbor is moving, is she going to miss their cat?"
"Why the fuck do you know that?"
Ran smiled. Rindou decided he did not want the details about his brother neglecting his friend's privacy. What you didn't know couldn't hurt you, and you would not get hurt because that would upset both Rindou and Ran.
After a moment of racking his brain, he remembered your date. New Boyfriend wouldn't be able to protect you, would he? And if Ran was this invested, that had to mean something. The Menace would come up with much crueler breakup schemes if he found out, better to do this his own way. Therefore it would be Ran's fault, not his own, if you broke up. He was just caught in the crossfire.
"(Y/N) likes salmon teriyaki onigiri," he revealed without looking at his older brother, busying himself with cleaning his glasses. "And jumping into rivers from cliffs."
Ran rested a hand on his shoulder, placing the other over his heart and and looking solemn enough to be a crematorium worker: "I shan't betray thy trust, brother o' mine."
Rindou sighed.