Chapter Text
Ichiro knew something was off when he woke up to the sound of multiple children yelling. Sitting up, he found himself lying in a bed he didn’t think he’d see again. The orphanage. Why was he back here? Looking down at himself, Ichiro let out a curse as he found himself in his sixteen year old body.
What the hell happened?
The last thing he remembered was him and his fellow division leaders standing up against Otome and Ichijiku, injured from having fought for so long. They were on their final legs as the unconscious bodies of other Chuuoku spies and ladies were sprawled around them. For the first time in many, many years, Mad Comic Dialogue, Naughty Busters, and The Dirty Dawg were reunited, and together they stood up against the government.
Everything got fuzzy after that.
Ichiro couldn’t remember anything after that. Nothing about how he ended up back here in his sixteen year old body. Or anything about what happened to his brothers after they split up before that final fight. Ichiro froze. His brothers. His baby brothers. Oh god, how could he have forgotten about them.
Throwing the covers off of his body, Ichiro ran out of the room and practically flew down the orphanage steps. He dodged the other kids, who were more than happy to avoid the delinquent, as he tried to find his brothers.
“Ichi-nii!” A young voice called from behind him. Turning around, Ichiro came face to face with both of his little brothers, the two of them panting. Oh, Ichiro realized, they look so much younger now. Even at fourteen, Jiro was tall. Not quite Ichiro’s height yet, but he still had more to grow. Saburo’s face was slightly chubbier too, his eleven year old body not yet having gone through the growth spurt his older one had.
“Jiro! Saburo!” Ichiro ran forward and gathered his little brothers into his arms. The two of them immediately hugged him back, clinging to him just as tightly. Burying his face between his brothers’ heads, Ichiro took a deep breath to try and calm down. It was okay now, he had his brothers. Pulling back slightly, he studied their faces. The two of them looked like they were on the verge of tears, and judging by stinging in his own eyes, he knew he didn’t look much different.
“Boys? Is something the matter?” A voice asked from behind the trio and Ichiro felt his blood freeze. Turning around slightly, Ichiro came face to face with Gencho Hosen, the orphanage director. The fucking bastard who worked with Shito to kidnap his brothers and hold them hostage. Gripping his brothers tighter, Ichiro sent him the hottest glare he could muster. Hosen sighed at his glare. The bastard then took a step forward, most likely to confront Ichiro and scold him, but Ichiro decided he had enough of the man’s presence. Moving to grab his brothers’ arms, he turned fully and walked straight past the man and out the door, not looking back.
They continued to walk a bit further until they reached the nearby park. Letting go of his brothers’ arms, Ichiro turned around and faced them. They were still staring at Ichiro, but this time a few tears had actually slipped down Saburo’s face.
“Ichi-nii,” Saburo hiccupped, rubbing his face. “Don’t ever do that again.” He sniffed, moving and grabbing Ichiro’s arm in a tight hug.
“Saburo?” Ichiro asked, concerned. Saburo didn’t answer. Instead, he pulled himself further into Ichiro’s side. “Jiro?” He looked at his other little brother, wondering what was happening.
“You DUMBASS!” Jiro yelled, punching Ichiro’s other arm. Ichiro furrowed his brow and opened his mouth to scold Jiro for his language, when the other boy also wrapped himself around his arm. “You scared us so much, leaving us like that with the others.” Jiro whispered, tears falling and getting his arm wet. Saburo’s arms tightened at the reminder and Ichiro felt the air get punched out of his gut.
They had also gone back in time with him.
If they were here, then who else? Is it just them, or had others come as well?
Prying his brothers off of his arms, he grabbed them and pulled them in. He felt them snuggle closer and Ichiro moved them onto a bench. Closing his eyes, Ichiro grimaced when he thought about when they were. Maneuvering his brothers, Ichiro pulled his phone out and checked the date. Eyes widening, he sat up a bit and he felt his brothers move to look down too. One year. They had a little over one year before Otome would kill the Prime Minister and take his spot. Suddenly, Ichiro’s phone went off. An unknown caller was calling him, but he could recognize that number from anywhere.
Samatoki Aohitsugi was calling.
----
When Ichiro entered the agreed-upon meeting spot, he was surprised to see how many of them were there. In fact, everyone from each of the main divisions were there give or take. “Ichiro!” Kuko called out, running over to him to pat him on the shoulder. “Glad to know you’re here, buddy!” He grinned and Ichiro matched it. Since the two of them had made up, they would meet every now and then to have dinner and talk about anything new going on in their lives. Samatoki also walked over as Saburo and Jiro moved away, going to talk to the others.
“Yo, Ichiro.” Samatoki greeted him, lightly hitting him on the head. He then turned back to the other leaders, “Everyone here now?”
“Everyone we know of,” Jakurai confirmed with a nod. Samatoki returned the nod and pulled Ichiro further into the room, Kuko closing the door behind them. They walked to the center of the room, where a table stood.
“Great, let’s get this thing started.” Samatoki let go of Ichiro and rejoined his other members. “So, we’ve somehow travelled back in time.” He started when he realized no one else was going to start the conversation.
“Um,” Doppo raised his hand slightly from where he stood, hunched behind Jakurai. “Does anyone know, uh, how e-exactly we ended up back here?” As soon as he asked the question, Hifumi patted his back in support.
“I don’t know,” Ichiro admitted, “My memories of before waking here are too fuzzy to make out. All I remember was that we were up against Otome and Ichijiku, then nothing.”
“Same here,” Jakurai frowned, bringing a hand up to his chin in thought. “I found it interesting how one moment we were about five years in the future, and now we’re not. Amemura?” He then asked, turning towards the shorter man.
“H-Huh?” Ramuda looked up, having seemingly been pulled out of thought. He then looked at Gentaro, and that’s when Ichiro noticed something off. Where was Fling Posse’s third member? Did he not come to the past, or is he elsewhere? “Oh, if you’re asking me if I know anything about whatever Chuuoku’s plans were there, I got nothing for you. They cut me off, remember?”
“I hadn’t been informed of anything either,” Rei cut in, and Ichiro couldn’t help the scowl that formed on his face. “But I think that was around the time they figured out I wasn’t exactly, well, loyal to them.” At that, Ramuda snorted.
“So, the consensus is that nobody knows what happened?” Hitoya asked, raising his eyebrow. “Interesting. I was sure at least one of us knew what happened.”
“Ah, I’ve been meaning to ask this,” Rio suddenly spoke up, turning everyone’s attention towards him. “But where is Arisugawa-kun? Surely he should be here too, if everyone else is from the other divisions.” At his question, Ramuda and Gentaro traded looks.
“All you need to know is that he did come back as well,” Ramuda started, “But he was… not able to come due to certain circumstances.”
“Certain circumstances?” Saburo asked, and Ichiro smiled at his little brother. He knew Saburo was friends with the gambler, even if said friendship was slightly reluctant.
“I do not believe we can tell you,” Gentaro finally spoke up, hiding the bottom half of his face behind a book.
“Either way,” Samatoki butted in, “He’s here though, right? We’ll just fill him in later on what he missed.” Moving forward, he placed his hands on the edge of the table and leaned forward. “Right now, our main priority is to make a plan.” Looking up, his scarlet eyes burned into each and every one of them.
“A plan on preventing and taking down Chuuoku.”