Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Ramuda coughs wetly into his sleeve.

It comes back stained with blood and Ramuda clicks his tongue, but there’s no time to worry about that now. He rounds the corner of the hallway, doing his best to ignore the ache in his lungs as he navigates the labyrinth of a research lab, trying to recall the layout from memories he’d previously done his best to repress.

A left up here, and then a right. At the end of the hall is the physical examination room, but they don’t keep any candy in there – or at least they didn’t, back when he’d lived here.

Somewhere up further is the dormitory, but the last thing he needs is to run into more clones, and –

The familiar snap of Kadenokoji Ichijiku’s voice rings out, barking orders, and Ramuda ducks into the nearest room.

He closes the door behind him, but his heart races fast as he doesn’t find a lock. The click of heels down the hallway grows louder, and Ramuda curses out Dice and Gentarō in his mind, curses out himself for agreeing to such a reckless plan. Just because none of them could think of an alternative to stealing from Chuoku’s stock of candy doesn’t mean there isn’t one.

Ramuda purses his lips and looks around the room for somewhere to hide. It was storage, he thinks, when he was last here, but it looks like it’s been turned into another lab. Unidentifiable machinery lines the walls, unconnected cords sticking out and unfinished circuit boards on display, and Ramuda’s eyes land on a metal box towards the back, and he finds himself heading towards it before he can think better of it.

It’s about the size of a locker, or an airplane bathroom, and Ramuda tucks himself inside it. He tries to pull the door shut, but it doesn’t budge, and he hisses a, “Come on,” the volume of Ichijiku’s voice loud enough that she must almost be to –

Ramuda’s eyes land on a button on the inside of the door, and he pushes it.

The door jolts to life, snapping shut and plunging Ramuda into darkness. Before the fear can even settle in Ramuda’s stomach, though, a series of red lights blink on, and a buzzing sound fills his ears.

The smell of smoke follows a moment later, and Ramuda wonders if he’s going to die via an experimental Chuoku machine. It’s better than letting Ichijiku kill him, he supposes, but only just.

He coughs one more mouthful of blood into his sleeve, and then everything goes dark.

---

“Oi, Ramuda.”

Ramuda groans, squeezing his eyes closed tighter. The voice is sharp, but not hostile, familiar in a way his sleep-dazed mind can’t quite identify.

“Ramuda-kun,” another voice says, gentler than the first. He feels the surface he’s lying against shift, and someone touches his shoulder, shaking him firmly but carefully, and he finally peels his eyes open to find –

“Ugh,” Ramuda groans, as Jinguji Jakurai’s face comes into view. “Why are you here?”

Jakurai stares at him, looking thoroughly caught off guard.

Ramuda swats away Jakurai’s hand and drags himself up into a sitting position, stretching out the tenseness in his muscles. He feels like there was something he was supposed to be doing, something important he was looking for, but with the fatigue of going so long without his meds –

Ramuda jolts upright and looks around the room.

“Ramuda-kun – ” Jakurai starts, but Ramuda ignores him, heart racing fast as he takes in the room. It’s clearly his workshop, down to the racks of clothes and eye-searing neon art.

That can’t be right, though. It can’t be right, because his workshop was torn up just a few days ago. And even if it had somehow been put back together, it’s far too dangerous for him to be here, because even if Chuoku has called a tentative truce, after breaking into that lab –

“Ramuda-san?” a new voice says, and Ramuda turns towards it.

Then, he blinks.

Sitting on his couch are Aohitsugi Samatoki, Yamada Ichirō, and Jinguji Jakurai. They’re all staring at him uncertainly – concerned, almost – and it sets off alarm bells in the back of his mind.

“Look,” Samatoki sighs, breaking Ramuda from his thoughts. “I don’t care what sort of stupid fight you two are having, but it better not get in the way today. Negotiations with the Edogawa faction are in less than an hour.” He narrows his eyes at Ramuda, and adds, “You better not fall asleep then, too.”

He has his hair slicked back, Ramuda realizes. He’s wearing a familiar black leather jacket, one that Ramuda hasn’t seen in years, and a quick glance at Ichirō finds that he’s also dressed in old clothes, his red hoodie making him look younger, face a little rounder than Ramuda remembers it.

The two of them look exactly like they did two years ago.

Ramuda forces a pout, and pitches his voice high and whiney as he says, “But negotiations are always so boring. Why do I have to come?”

The tension in the room dissipates just as quickly as it had come.

“Ramuda-kun,” Jakurai says, and it makes Ramuda’s skin prickle, to hear Jakurai call him that. “It’s important for us to demonstrate that we’re taking their claims seriously. They may take it as an insult if one of us is absent.”

Ramuda swallows down a mouthful of insults to reply with, “Fiiiine.” He forces a smile, and adds, “But you’ll have to be in charge of making sure I don’t fall asleep.”

“I suppose I can manage that,” Jakurai agrees, his face relaxing into a smile, and Ramuda stares for a moment, before he catches himself.

Which, consequently, is how Ramuda finds himself walking through an old warehouse district, on the way to negotiate with an armed gang. It gives him a strange feeling of déjà vu, although he can’t actually remember this particular incident, and he takes a moment to review the situation.

There are three possible explanations.

The first is that he’s awake, and this is some sort of illusion. It’s the most unlikely option, though, judging by the scale of it. With his rap ability, he could probably make something this detailed if he really tried, but he doubts he could hold it for more than a few minutes, and even then, it’s not like he can read minds. He could probably make copies of Gentarō and Dice that very few people could see through, but someone he doesn’t know well? Whoever made the illusion would have to be very familiar with TDD.

“Ramuda-kun?” Jakurai asks, and Ramuda realizes he’s been staring, studying Jakurai for inconsistencies.

“I’m still sleepy,” Ramuda complains, leaning in to cling to Jakurai’s arm. He looks up at Jakurai from under his eyelashes and says, “Jakurai, carry me!”

“You didn’t stay up late working on designs again, did you?” Jakurai asks, his expression morphing into something halfway between exasperated and fond. It’s an expression Ramuda had almost forgotten about, but it’s achingly familiar nonetheless.

It’s probably not an expression he could recreate with an illusion.

“If you’re not going to carry me, I’ll find someone else,” Ramuda huffs, puffing his cheeks up in a pout and releasing Jakurai’s arm.

Before Jakurai can say anything, he bounds forward to latch onto Samatoki instead. Samatoki grunts as Ramuda’s weight rams into him, and he turns to snap, “I’m not going to carry you either.”

“You’re the one who wants me to stay awake during negotiations,” Ramuda complains. He wraps himself around Samatoki’s arm just like he’d done with Jakurai, squeezing it as tight as he can manage, and he sees Samatoki grimace. “I won’t be able to stay awake if I’m too tired from walking.”

The second option is that this is a dream.

Not a normal dream, because if it was, he’d have been able to wake himself up already. He’s probably in a deep sleep – or maybe even comatose – and the scenario is being fueled by his own memories, instead of an outside force.

If that’s the case, though, he just has to shock himself out of it.

“Ramuda,” Samatoki says, his voice dipping into a dangerous register.

Ramuda doesn’t let go.

“Ramuda-san,” Ichirō repeats, glancing at Samatoki and then back to Ramuda, as if he’s calculating whether or not to intervene. “We’re almost to the meeting point – ”

“Then you don’t even have to carry me that far!” Ramuda complains. He leans fully into the childish act and goes limp, letting his whole body weight hang on Samatoki’s arm, and he hears Samatoki grunt in surprise, stumbling as he’s thrown off balance.

“Let go of me!” Samatoki snaps, struggling under Ramuda’s weight.

“I don’t wanna!” Ramuda retorts, and then –

Samatoki shoves at Ramuda, trying to throw him off.

It’s exactly what Ramuda was waiting for. He releases his grip on Samatoki’s arm, going with the force, and letting himself be thrown down against the ground. It’s concrete, and it hits him a little harder than he’d expected, knocking the air out of his lungs, and he can’t quite bite back the pained noise that escapes his throat.

At least it’s probably enough to break him out of an induced dream, and he blinks, waiting for his vision to refocus.

“Ramuda-kun!”

Instead of the inside of a Chuoku research lab, Jakurai’s concerned face fills his field of vision.

Jakurai’s arms wrap around him, gently helping him up into a sitting position, as he tries to regain his breath. Idly, Ramuda wonders how many times Jakurai’s called him “Ramuda-kun” already today, and how long it’ll take before it finally stops making his insides churn.

“Samatoki-kun,” Jakurai says, turning to look at Samatoki, his voice going low. “I understand that Ramuda-kun was antagonizing you, but you didn’t need to use so much force.”

Ramuda plasters a smile on his face, ready to force himself to his feet and diffuse the impending argument.

But before he can, Samatoki mutters, “Sorry.”

It makes Ramuda blink, caught off guard.

“Are you okay?” Samatoki asks gruffly, coming over to crouch down next to him, and Ramuda can’t do anything but stare. He doubts the Samatoki he knows now would apologize for something like this, but they are teammates in this – wherever they are, and –

“Ramuda-san?” Ichirō says, a frown tugging at his mouth and his forehead creased, as he comes to hover next to Ramuda too. It’s a familiar expression, buried so deep in the back of Ramuda’s mind he’d almost erased it entirely.

The third option is that he’s actually gone back in time.

---

The apartment is as he remembers it.

He’d moved after TDD disbanded, but he still remembers the layout of his first apartment well enough. It was so new and exciting, after all, having his own room instead of a bunk in a dormitory, squished in with an increasing amount of other clones.

His suitcase is exactly where he left it too, and he doesn’t hesitate to throw it open.

He goes to the closet and starts tearing clothes down off their hangers, stuffing them haphazardly into the suitcase, for once more concerned about speed than whether or not they get wrinkled. Toiletries are next, anything essential, and as he packs them in, he tries to calculate how much money he has access to, and whether Chuoku will notice if he suddenly empties the bank account they’d given him.

He reaches out to grab his phone, but then stops himself. Chuoku could easily track it.

With that, he zips his suitcase shut and starts for the door.

Running away won’t solve anything. It’s why he hadn’t tried running the first time, because as long as his body can’t sustain itself without Chuoku’s meds, there was no point to trying to escape. But now that he’s lived long enough to know that the outcome won’t change either way, he might as well spend what little time he has left on a beach somewhere.

After all, at this point in time, Chuoku hadn’t been quite so stingy with his candy supply. He has at least a few months’ worth stocked up, and his body’s stable enough that even if he starts skipping some doses, he should be able to hold out for about a year.

A year of freedom is better than nothing.

Briefly, Dice and Gentarō cross his mind, and he pauses.

He only pauses for a moment, though. After all, it’s not like they’ve formed a team yet, and at this point, contacting them would only put them in more danger, if Chuoku notices.

With that, he heads for the door.

However, when he pushes open the door, it almost smacks Jakurai in the face.

“Ramuda-kun,” Jakurai says, reaching out to hold the door open. His eyes land on Ramuda’s suitcase, and a crease appears between his eyebrows. “Are you going somewhere?”

“I – ” Ramuda starts, wracking his brain for an excuse. “ – have a date!”

He plasters his best smile on his face.

“A date?” Jakurai repeats, the corners of his mouth tugging down in a frown.

“I probably won’t be home for a few days,” Ramuda says with a wink. Jakurai’s expression falters for a moment, but he smooths it back over too quickly for Ramuda to interpret what it could mean.

For a moment, Jakurai hesitates, but then he says, “Are you alright?”

It catches Ramuda off guard.

It shouldn’t, probably. This isn’t his usual Jakurai, the one who insults his fashion sense and calls him immature. This is the Jakurai who still thinks of him as a teammate, who goes along with his whims, who gets mad at Samatoki for being too rough with him.

“You’ve been acting strangely today,” Jakurai continues. The crease between his eyebrows is concern, Ramuda realizes. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

This Jakurai, Ramuda realizes, doesn’t hate him yet.

Before he can think about what he’s doing, Ramuda steps forward and warps his arms around Jakurai. He buries his face in Jakurai’s chest, clinging to Jakurai with even more strength than he’d used to cling to Samatoki that morning, as if Jakurai will disappear if he doesn’t. He can feel his eyes getting wet, but he holds back the tears, tires to steady his breathing and calm the mess of emotions clogging up his chest.

“Ramuda-kun?” Jakurai asks softly, and Ramuda feels one of Jakurai’s hands brush against his back.

Ramuda doesn’t let go, but Jakurai manages to steer him back into the apartment. They make it to the living room, and Jakurai sits down on the couch, letting Ramuda curl up against him, half in his lap.

It should be an awkward position, but Ramuda can’t bring himself to let go.

“Sleep deprivation can cause emotional instability,” Jakurai says. Ramuda feels something brush against his hair, and he realizes that it’s Jakurai’s hand. “Have you been having trouble sleeping?”

Ramuda makes a noise of agreement.

It’s true enough, he supposes. It’s hard to sleep when you have trouble breathing and cough up blood regularly, and he hasn’t gotten more than five consecutive hours for a while now, although that technically shouldn’t have any effect on this body.

“What about food?” Jakurai presses. “Have you eaten anything today?”

“No,” Ramuda mutters. He hadn’t been in the habit of eating breakfast two years ago, so he doubts that past-him had eaten anything this morning, and they’re long past lunch time now, too.

“Then let’s get you something to eat,” Jakurai says, and normally Jakurai nagging him about his health would only annoy him, but there’s something about Jakurai’s tone that’s different than usual, softer than the criticisms future-Jakurai usually hurls at him.

It takes a little bit of coaxing, but eventually Ramuda releases his grip on Jakurai, so Jakurai can scrounge up some food from his refrigerator. The kitchen is in full view of the living room, and Ramuda stays curled up on the couch, watching idly as Jakurai rummages around in his cupboards, and tries to ignore the way his chest feels too tight.

To be honest, he’s never hated Jakurai as much as Jakurai hates him.

He’s never had a reason to. Jakurai hates him because of what he did to Yotsutsuji, but although he’s frustrated, sometimes, about all the freedoms that Jakurai gets that he’ll never have, he knows that’s not Jakurai’s fault.

Hating Jakurai is just a habit. It’s hard to like someone who hates you.

“Ramuda-kun?”

Ramuda blinks, broken out of his thoughts, and realizes that Jakurai’s come back into the living room.

“There wasn’t much in your refrigerator, I’m afraid,” Jakurai says. He puts a plate down on the coffee table, and Ramuda reluctantly slides down off the couch to kneel in front of it.

A sunny side up egg sits atop a piece of toast, a neatly sliced tomato lined up along the side of the plate.

Ramuda hesitates, but then reaches out to pick up the toast. He takes a small bite, chewing slowly, and then takes another bite, bigger this time. In the end, it takes him barely a minute to wolf down the egg and toast, and the tomato follows soon after, until all that’s left on the plate is a scattering of crumbs.

With that, Ramuda plops himself back into Jakurai’s lap.

“Ramuda – ” Jakurai starts, clearly flustered.

“Jakurai,” Ramuda says, his voice muffled against Jakurai’s chest. “You’re the best.”

For a moment, Jakurai hesitates, but then he says, “We’re friends, aren’t we?”

“Best friends,” Ramuda agrees, forcing his voice to maintain its usual high pitch.

“This is what friends do,” Jakurai explains. He hesitates, then adds, “You would help me if I needed it too, wouldn’t you?”

The question makes something in Ramuda’s chest feel far too tight. He twists his fingers the fabric of Jakurai’s shirt, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from calling Jakurai a naïve, trusting idiot, because in the end –

Something occurs to Ramuda.

Maybe this Jakurai never has to hate him.

---

The first thing he needs is a plan.

He’s not naïve enough to think that he can fix everything this time around, or that his own end will be any different, but he can at least make thing difficult for Chuoku.

His main goal, then, should be making sure that TDD stays together. Although he wasn’t lying when he told Ichijiku that the likelihood of TDD actually being able to stand up to Chuoku was low, she was also right when she said “low” was not “zero.”

In order to keep TDD together, though, there are four main people he needs to keep an eye on: Yotsutsuji, Nemu, and the younger Yamada brothers.

“Sa,” Ramuda chirps, bounding into the office. “Ma.” He dives onto the couch. “Toki!”

Samatoki grunts as Ramuda knocks into him, nearly dropping his phone.

“Watch it,” Samatoki snaps, turning to glare at Ramuda. Ramuda’s seen that glare too many times for it to have much of an effect anymore, though, and he grins, making himself comfortable against Samatoki’s side. For a moment, Samatoki looks like he’s contemplating trying to push him away, but in the end he just sighs, and turns back to his phone.

Ramada can’t tell if it’s because he still feels guilty about yesterday, or if he’s just become desensitized.

“Who are you talking to?” Ramuda asks, craning his neck to peer at Samatoki’s phone screen.

“None of your business,” Samatoki huffs, shifting his elbow to push Ramada a little further away. “Why are you here? You’re half an hour early.”

Today’s TDD meeting is at Samatoki’s office. Like Ramuda’s own workshop, it hasn’t changed much, and Ramuda recognizes the same mahogany desk and leather couch. The coffee table looks different, but Ramuda’s pretty sure that’s because it got shot a few times, and Samatoki had to replace it.

Samatoki’s phone buzzes with a text.

“You’re talking to Nemu-chan?” Ramuda asks, worming back into Samatoki’s space. “Tell her Ramuda says hi!”

“No,” Samatoki says flatly. He types out a quick message and then switches to another chat.

“Why not?” Ramuda whines, pitching his voice into its most annoying possible range.

“She doesn’t even know you,” Samatoki snorts.

“Then send her a picture of me,” Ramuda pesters, tugging at Samatoki’s shirt sleeve. A smirk spreads over his lips and he adds, “If she likes it, we can go on a date and get to know each other better.”

That statement’s enough to make Samatoki go tense.

“Nemu’s seventeen,” Samatoki says, slowly, his voice dipping low and a little dangerous, and when he looks at Ramuda his gaze is sharp. “She’s still a minor.”

“Well,” Ramuda replies, easing off on the childish pitch of his voice a bit, “normally I only go for older women, but clearly she has good genes.” He lets his eyes flick over Samatoki. “So I’m looking forward to how she’s going to grow up.”

For a moment, Ramuda thinks Samatoki’s going to punch him.

Instead, though, Samatoki aims his phone at him, and takes a picture.

Ramuda blinks, caught off guard, but then recomposes himself, pushing his lower lip out in a pout as he says, “Did you just put out a hit on me?”

“No,” Samatoki snorts, tapping at his phone screen. “I sent Nemu your photo.” He pins Ramuda with a glare. “So she knows who to stay away from.”

Mission success.

“Samatoki,” Ramuda whines. “You’re so mean! You know I wouldn’t actually do anything to her!”

“If you come within five meters of my sister, I’ll kill you,” Samatoki says flatly, still typing out messages on his phone.

When Ramuda leans in to read the messages he’s sending to Nemu, though, they don’t quite match the threat. Instead of a simple “flee on sight,” they’re about how he’s “not dangerous” but “absolutely, under no circumstances” should she go anywhere with him alone.

It’s actually a better result than Ramuda had hoped for. Chuoku wouldn’t dare use a “true” hypnosis mic on someone with witnesses around, but it would be suspicious if Nemu ran away from a clone, even if it wouldn’t be for the reasons Chuoku would suspect.

At the very least, that should keep Nemu safe for the time being.

“Fine,” Ramuda huffs, sinking back into the couch. “I’ll just find someone cuter then.”

“There is no one cuter,” Samatoki retorts, and he doesn’t even say it like he’s bragging, he says it like a fact.

It catches Ramuda off guard, a little. He’d always known that Samatoki loved his sister more than anything, but it’s been so long since he’s heard Samatoki talk about her without an undercurrent of sadness, anger, or regret.

Ah, Ramuda thinks, staring at the unusually soft expression on Samatoki’s face. That’s my fault.

“Good morning, Samatoki-kun, Ramuda-kun.”

Jakurai’s voice breaks Ramuda from his thoughts.

“Jakurai!” Ramuda whines, bounding up off the couch and over to Jakurai, who’s standing in the doorway. He wraps his arms around Jakurai’s waist, clinging to him, but the mood of it is completely different than it was yesterday. “Samatoki’s telling his sister mean things about me!”

“That’s because you were saying creepy things about her,” Samatoki huffs, scowling at him.

“I just said that because you’re so pretty, she’ll probably grow up to be pretty too,” Ramuda complains, pitching his voice to its most petulant. He tugs at the hem of Jakurai’s shirt and looks up at him, saying, “You think so too, right, Jakurai?”

“Ramuda,” Jakurai says, his voice cool enough to make Ramuda’s spine stiffen. “Don’t antagonize Samatoki-kun.”

It’s just a shade off from the tone Ramuda’s used to hearing from him in the future, and before he even realizes what he’s doing, he snorts, “You don’t have to be a killjoy just because I’m not frigid like you.”

He regrets the words as soon as they’re out of his mouth.

It was just an automatic reaction to Jakurai’s tone. After two years of arguments and too-sharp comments, it’s hard to remind himself that he and Jakurai are all fine now, that Jakurai’s not going to turn around and say something that hurts more than he’d like to admit.

But now Jakurai is staring at him like he’s been slapped, and Ramuda has to resist the urge to trip over his own tongue trying to apologize.

“Just kidding!” Ramuda says, forcing a smile. “You’re prettier than Samatoki and his sister combined! I’m sure you’ve got tons of exes who want you back.”

Jakurai still looks concerned, his forehead creased and the corners of his mouth tugged down in a frown, and the shock hasn’t entirely dissipated.

“I’m sorry,” Ramuda adds, deflating a little. He peers up at Jakurai through his eyelashes, with his most pitiful expression. “I didn’t mean it.”

For a moment, Ramuda almost thinks that Jakurai’s not going to accept his apology, but then Jakurai sighs, the tension relaxing out of him, and says, “Maybe be a little more careful about what you choose to joke about, next time. There are some things that aren’t alright to joke about.” He looks over at Samatoki, and adds, “Is that correct, Samatoki-kun?”

“I’m sorry about what I said about your sister, Samatoki,” Ramuda says docilely, turning to look back at Samatoki.

For a moment, Samatoki just studies him, his eyes sharp, and Ramuda wonders if he’s just given away too much.

But in the end, Samatoki just says, “I’m still not letting you near my sister.”

Stage one, complete.

---

Next are the Yamada brothers.

If Ramuda remembers correctly, the older one, Jirō, should be a third year middle school student, and Saburō, the younger one, should be a first year. Unfortunately, the same trick he used for Nemu won’t work for the Yamada brothers – or, at least, Ramuda’s not about to try it – which is how he finds himself loitering around Ikebukuro.

He’s on his phone, only half paying attention to Instagram, when he spots them.

“Jirō! Saburō!” he calls out, bounding over to the two boys. They both pause, looking over at him with suspicious expressions, and Ramuda plasters his best smile on his face. “It’s been a while!”

“Who are you?” the smaller one – Saburō, probably – demands, his eyes narrowed as he inspects Ramuda.

“You don’t remember?” Ramuda asks, using his best hurt tone. “I’m your brother’s teammate. I even helped save you that time you got kidnapped!”

“Ah!” Jirō blurts out in realization, pointing at him. “You were with that really tall guy!”

“Bingo!” Ramuda replies, shooting Jirō a grin. “Hey, are you two hungry? I’ll treat you.”

“Really?” Jirō asks, his eyes lighting up.

“Jirō,” Saburō complains. “If you eat now, you won’t have room for dinner. Ichi-nii’s making mapo tofu.”

Before the two of them can start arguing, Ramuda says, “Don’t worry about it, we can just do ice cream or something.” Saburō still doesn’t look convinced, so he adds, “Actually, part of why I’m asking is because I was hoping you two could help me with something.”

“What is it?” Saburō asks, the corners of his mouth tugging down slightly.

“Ichirō hasn’t been updating his social media accounts lately,” Ramuda explains, with a put-upon sigh. “I keep telling him it’s important to engage with our fans, but he says he’s too embarrassed to post pictures of himself. I was hoping you could take some photos for him.”

“We can do that,” Jirō agrees readily, his eyes lighting up.

“Great!” Ramuda says. “Are you up for ice cream, then? I can show you some example photos while we’re at it.”

“You have photos of Ichi-nii?” Saburō asks, perking up. The suspicious look on his face has finally melted away, replaced by undisguised interest.

“Of course,” Ramuda laughs. “We’re teammates, after all.”

It doesn’t take any more cajoling after that to get Jirō and Saburō inside a nearby ice cream parlor. Ramuda watches on as the two of them argue over whether one or two scoops will be enough to ruin their appetite for dinner, but eventually the three of them end up at a booth near the back of the restaurant, hidden away from most of the other customers.

The photos of Ichirō are enough to district Jirō and Saburō, and they don’t seem to think much of it, instead fighting over who gets to hold Ramuda’s phone. It’s too easy, Ramuda thinks darkly, and he’s already lost count of how many opportunities he would have had to slip something into their food, if he’d been so inclined.

“You two are in middle school, right?” Ramuda says, when Jirō and Saburō have stopped arguing long enough for him to get a word in.

“Uh, yeah,” Jirō answers, finally tearing his eyes away from the photos on Ramuda’s phone. “I’m a third year, and Saburō’s a first year.”

“You two go to the same school?” Ramuda asks, feigning interest. He already knows the answer, along with the exact route they take every day to come home from school. It hadn’t been hard to figure out.

“Only because it’s the closest,” Saburō says, scooping up a spoonful of mint chocolate chip ice cream. “And Jirō got lucky on the entrance exam.”

“Shut up,” Jirō retorts, his face going pink.

“My grades are way better than yours,” Saburō replies, before sticking the ice cream into his mouth. He swallows and adds, “Fujita-sensei said she wouldn’t believe we were related if we didn’t both have heterochromia.”

“Well I can’t believe we’re related after you had to go to the nurse’s office after running less than a kilometer in P.E. last Thursday,” Jirō shoots back, and now it’s Saburō's face that’s going red.

Saburō opens his mouth to retort, but before he can, Ramuda says, “So, do you two always take the same route home after school?”

Both Jirō and Saburō stare at him, caught off guard.

Ramuda polishes off the last of his unnaturally blue ice cream, and says, “You know, you really shouldn’t just let strangers take you places like this.”

“But you’re not a stranger,” Jirō says, his forehead creasing. “You know our brother.”

“Lots of people know your brother,” Ramuda says, propping his elbows up on the table, and then resting his chin against his hands. “The guy who kidnapped you last time knew your brother, right?”

Jirō and Saburō’s expressions have turned decidedly wary. Idly, Ramuda notices that the ice cream in their cups is starting to melt.

“We’re in public,” Saburō finally says, raising his chin up slightly, as if daring Ramuda to try something. “If you tried to do anything to us right now, you’d get caught immediately. Plus, there are two of us. Even if you drugged us or something it’s not like you’d be able to carry us by yourself. You probably couldn’t even carry me.”

Ramuda’s never been particularly sensitive about his height, so he just smiles, instead of letting the half-concealed insult bother him.

“Who said I’m working by myself?” Ramuda asks, cocking his head slightly. “Maybe I have an accomplice who’s like, two meters tall. I could just be the cute face of this operation. And as for being in public, I could just say you collapsed suddenly and that I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Jirō shifts slightly, putting himself in front of his brother, and his eyes are hard as he glares at Ramuda.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Ramuda huffs, puffing his cheeks up in mock-indignation. “I’m not actually going to do anything to you.”

“Then why are you talking to us about this?” Jirō asks, his voice low and steady. Ramuda doesn’t doubt that Jirō wouldn’t hesitate to fling himself across the table, if he so much as reached towards Saburō.

“I just think you should be careful,” Ramuda answers. “Ichirō’s pretty strong, but he’d be a mess if anything happened to you two. Not everyone cares about winning territory battles fairly.”

It’s not exactly the threat they should be worried about, but it’s too risky to mention Chuoku, and this excuse is valid enough.

With that, Ramuda stands up from his seat.

“That’s all I wanted to say,” he announces, plastering another fake smile over his face. “Stranger danger, okay?”

He doesn’t wait for Jirō and Saburō to reply.

They don’t try to follow him as he heads for the door, and he can’t help but be a little relieved that at least they’re not that dumb. Hopefully this will be a good start to keeping them out of danger, but it’s still hardly a perfect solution, and he would put a permanent watch on them if he could.

It’s time to start thinking about phase three.

---

When Ramuda comes home, he finds Jakurai standing at his door.

“Ramuda-kun,” Jakurai says, looking relieved. “You weren’t answering your phone.”

Ramuda blinks at him, and then digs his phone out of his pocket. He hadn’t looked at it after taking it back from Jirō and Saburō, and he finds three new texts and a missed call, all from Jakurai.

“Sorry, I had a date,” Ramuda says, looking back up at Jakurai. “Girls get mad at you if you’re paying attention to your phone instead of them.” He plasters a smile on his face and asks, “What did you need?”

“You said we were doing special training today,” Jakurai replies, the relief on his face changing abruptly into something that Ramuda can’t quite interpret.

I did? Ramuda almost says, before catching himself. He’ll have to remember to check his schedule after this, to make sure he hasn’t made any other important appointments and forgotten about them within the past two years.

“Really? I thought that was tomorrow,” Ramuda lies, forcing fake confusion into his tone.

“I’m on call tomorrow,” Jakurai says, frowning slightly.

“Okay, let’s go, then,” Ramuda announces, turning to head back down the hall.

“Now?” Jakurai asks, sounding surprised.

“You’re free now, aren’t you?” Ramuda replies, glancing back over his shoulder at Jakurai. “And it’s my fault for forgetting.”

“If you’re tired, you don’t have to – ” Jakurai says, but he starts following Ramuda anyway.

“It’s fine,” Ramuda insists. He slows his pace to fall into step with Jakurai, latching onto his arm, and he smiles up at Jakurai as he says, “Plus, I’ve been sleeping better lately since you helped me the other day.”

“If you’re sure,” Jakurai replies, a little reluctantly, but he lets Ramuda drag him along. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret,” Ramuda says, trying to buy himself a few more minutes to come up with something. “You drove, right? I’ll tell you how to get there.”

Which, consequently, is how Ramuda finds himself back in Ikebukuro for the second time that day.

“Ta da!” Ramuda says, as they arrive at the entrance to the building.

“An aquarium?” Jakurai asks, following Ramuda over to the ticket machine.

“Do you think I can pass for the under twelve discount?” Ramuda muses, examining the ticket prices.

“We’re not going to try it,” Jakurai says firmly, but although his tone is disapproving, it lacks the sharpness of his future self’s usual tone. He digs his wallet out of his pocket and adds, “I can pay.”

“Jakurai, you’re the best!” Ramuda chirps, wrapping his arms around Jakurai’s stomach again.

“I’m the one who requested special training,” Jakurai replies, his lips quirking up into a small smile, and Ramuda can’t help but stare for a moment. After all the ‘special training’ they’ve done, Jakurai has to know it’s just bullshit, that bungee jumping and meditating under a waterfall aren’t actually going to improve his rapping, but he doesn’t show even the slightest hint of annoyance at having to cater to Ramuda’s whims yet again.

Past Jakurai, Ramuda decides, is really weird.

“So,” Ramuda starts, once they’ve paid for their tickets and entered the aquarium. “Do you know why we’re here?”

Jakurai blinks at him, looking caught off guard, and Ramuda has to bite back a smile as he wonders if Jakurai will finally call him out on his bullshit.

“To improve team bonds?” Jakurai hazards. It’s not quite the callout Ramuda was waiting for, but in the end it’s just a more politely phrased version of it.

“Wrong!” Ramuda announces, before bounding over to the first tank. He sticks his finger up to the glass, pointing at a bright orange fish, and asks, “What’s this?”

“A clownfish?” Jakurai answers, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

“What species?” Ramuda presses. He brings his hand up to cover the sign next to the tank and adds, “No cheating!”

For a moment, Jakurai’s quiet, studying the fish carefully, but finally he admits, “I don’t know.”

“It’s an ocellaris clownfish,” Ramuda says, uncovering the sign again. “In order to be a good rapper, you have to have a biiiig – ” Ramuda drags out the word. “ – vocabulary, so today we’re going to help you expand yours!” He points at another fish in the tank and asks, “What’s this?”

Goal established, they make their way through the aquarium. There aren’t many people, probably because it’s a Wednesday evening, and Ramuda flits between the tanks uninterrupted, pressing himself up against the glass and taking selfies with the fish.

Jakurai scolds him for getting fingerprints on the glass, but he goes along with the exercise Ramuda’s invented, doing his best to name the fish Ramuda chooses. He knows more than Ramuda had expected, and Ramuda’s glad that the last time he’d gone to an aquarium, Gentarō had played the same sort of game with him and Dice – with a few fake fish names thrown in, of course.

“What about this one?” Ramuda asks, indicating a tank full of long, skinny fish, popping their heads up out of the sand.

“Spotted garden eel,” Jakurai answers easily.

“How do you know so many of these?” Ramuda huffs, puffing up his cheeks in indignation. “Where’s your phone? Are you cheating?”

“I’m not cheating,” Jakurai says, his expression turning distinctly amused. “I just enjoy fishing.”

“You’re catching these tiny things?” Ramuda asks, giving Jakurai a suspicious look. The little eels in the tank barely look big enough to swallow a hook, much less be worth eating.

“No,” Jakurai admits, coming up to stand next to Ramuda in front of the tank, close enough that their shoulder brush. “I just think they’re cute.” He pauses, then adds, “And they remind me a little of you.”

Ramuda makes a skeptical noise, watching the eels idly. He pokes at the glass in front of one of them, and watches as it retreats back down into its hole, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

“I don’t think we’re alike at all,” he announces, and then heads for the next tank.

Unfortunately, the next tank doesn’t improve his mood much.

The large glass cylinder is filled with jellyfish, floating limply in the water. The lighting paints them a light pink, long tentacles extending down in the illusion of a body, and for a moment, Ramuda feels like he’s standing in front of a different tank, watching a half-formed body suspended in clear liquid.

“They’re beautiful,” Jakurai says softly, mistaking Ramuda’s silence for rapture.

“They’re boring,” Ramuda complains, breaking himself out of his trance. “They don’t do anything.” He looks up at Jakurai and reaches out to tug at his wrist. “C’mon, I’m hungry. Let’s go get dinner.”

“There are still more – ” Jakurai starts, as Ramuda drags him past the next tanks, towards the exit.

“I’m tired of fish,” Ramuda huffs, giving Jakurai an annoyed look.

It makes a crease appear between Jakurai’s eyebrows, and for a moment, Ramuda thinks he’s going to start asking inconvenient questions again, but in the end, he smooths out his expression and says, “I suppose we can always come back some other time.”

Ramuda has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping, You can go on your own.

He doesn’t relax until they’re out of the aquarium.

---

This is the part of the plan that Ramuda’s been dreading the most.

He takes a moment to steady himself, and then rings the doorbell. It only takes a few seconds before he hears the patter of feet against the floor, and soon the door swings open, revealing Kannabi Yotsutsuji.

“Ramuda-san,” Yotsutsuji greets him, smiling politely. It’s easy enough to tell that the smile is forced, though, tense around the edges, and it only confirms what Ramuda had already suspected.

Yotsutsuji’s seen one of his clones.

Clearly he hasn’t confirmed his suspicions yet, though, or he would have already told Jakurai, so there’s still a chance he can salvage the situation.

“Hey, Yotsutsuji!” Ramuda says, returning Yotsutsuji’s fake smile with one of his own.

“I’m afraid Jakurai-san isn’t here right now,” Yotsutsuji tells him, apologetic. “He’s working late at the hospital, and I’m not sure what time – ”

“That’s fine,” Ramuda interrupts, brushing past Yotsutsuji and into the house. “I’m actually here for you.”

Yotsutsuji freezes.

“Let’s talk in the living room,” Ramuda continues, kicking off his shoes and starting down the hall. He turns to smile at Yotsutsuji again and adds, “I brought snacks!”

He holds up a box of donuts and watches as Yotsutsuji tries to pull together his crumbling smile.

“I’ll get tea,” Yotsutsuji offers.

It’s a transparent excuse to get away for a few minutes, but Ramuda doesn’t try to stop him as he escapes to the kitchen. It’s unlikely that Yotsutsuji will try to run away, and last time he hadn’t told Jakurai about his suspicions until he’d been absolutely sure, so he’ll probably just text Jakurai something innocuous about Ramuda coming over. Not enough to make Jakurai worry, but confirmation of Ramuda’s presence, in case something should happen.

Ramuda plops himself down on the couch and waits for Yotsutsuji.

Sure enough, Yotsutsuji comes into the living room a few minutes later, carrying a tray with a teapot and two teacups.

“I hope black tea is okay,” Yotsutsuji says apologetically, setting the tray down on the coffee table. “I wasn’t sure what would go well with donuts.”

“Black tea is fine,” Ramuda replies, opening up the box of donuts, and then selecting a bright pink one. He pushes the box towards Yotsutsuji, who hesitates, but then takes a donut, holding it carefully, as if he’s worried Ramuda might have drugged it.

Ramuda takes a large bite of his strawberry frosted donut, and after a beat, Yotsutsuji follows suit.

Ramuda chews, swallows, and then says, “You should stop looking into me.”

Yotsutsuji freezes again.

“If someone catches you, you could get hurt,” Ramuda continues. He takes another bite of his donut, watching as Yotsutsuji’s eyes harden.

“Are you threatening me?” Yotsutsuji asks, his mouth pressed into a tight line.

“I’m not,” Ramuda says lightly. “I’m just giving you a heads up.”

For a moment, Yotsutsuji hesitates, but then he says, “If you’re going to continue hanging around Jakurai-san, then I can’t stop. I don’t know what you’re involved in or what you’re planning, but I won’t let you do anything to him.”

It’s the answer Ramuda was expecting, but not the one he was hoping for.

“God, fine,” Ramuda groans, finally letting his voice drop down to its natural register. The switch makes Yotsutsuji’s eyes widen, and Ramuda lets himself be amused by it for a moment. He digs something out of his bag, and then says, “Take this.”

He holds out a mic, and Yotsutsuji stares at it.

“C’mon,” Ramuda says. He wiggles the mic, but Yotsutsuji makes no move to accept it. “Take it.”

“Are you telling me to battle you?” Yotsutsuji asks, eyeing him warily.

“I am telling you,” Ramuda huffs, “to take the mic.”

Yotsutsuji hesitates for another beat, but finally does as he’s told. His face has gone a little pale, and he clenches the mic tight enough to blanch his knuckles, but he doesn’t try to run away or launch an attack.

Idiot, Ramuda thinks. If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead.

“Practice with that,” Ramuda says, relaxing back into the couch. He takes another bite of his donut, and then washes it down with a mouthful of tea. “It’s an illegal copy, so it won’t be as effective as mine or Jakurai’s, but it’ll do the job.”

“Practice?” Yotsutsuji blurts out, before he can stop himself.

“You suck at rapping,” Ramuda replies, his tone blunt. “All you need is one good verse, though. As long as it’s enough to catch your opponent off guard and knock them back for a moment, you can run away.”

“You want me to be able to defend myself,” Yotsutsuji says, with slow realization.

“I want you to stop looking into me,” Ramuda huffs. He finishes his donut and then downs the rest of his tea in one gulp. “But if you’re not going to, then I want you to not die.” He pauses. “Jakurai wouldn’t like that.”

“Or you could just tell me what you’re involved in,” Yotsutsuji offers, as if that’s a reasonable option. As if Ramuda hasn’t spent the last ten minutes telling him that people will try to kill him if they think he knows too much.

This is why Ramuda’s been avoiding this conversation.

Not because he feels guilty.

Mostly.

“Knowing won’t do you any good,” Ramuda finally says. “If you’re really worried about Jakurai, the best thing you could do would be to leave the country and forget you ever met me.”

With that, he stands up from the couch and turns towards the door.

“Oh, also,” he adds, glancing back at Yotsutsuji. “If you see anyone who looks like me, don’t let them get you somewhere alone. Run if you have to.”

It’s probably more than he should say, but it’s only way he can think to tell Yotsutsuji. He can’t use the same sort of techniques that he used for Nemu and the younger Yamada brothers, because Yotsutsuji actually knows him, and although Yotsutsuji might not trust him, it still makes him more vulnerable in some ways.

“Ramuda-san!” Yotsutsuji blurts out, breaking Ramuda from his thoughts. His expression has shifted from cautious into something determined, and Ramuda can already guess that he’s not going to like where this is going. “Can you teach me how to rap?”

“I’ve already tried,” Ramuda huffs, his mouth slanting into a scowl.

“Can you at least look over my verse then?” Yotsutsuji asks. “Once I’ve written it.”

Part of Ramuda wants to tell him to ask Jakurai to do that, but that would mean telling Jakurai why Yotsutsuji’s writing a verse in the first place. And although Jakurai’s improved with almost frightening speed over the past few months, he’s still got a lot to learn about rap himself, so logically, it makes sense for Ramuda to accept.

“Fine,” Ramuda sighs, and Yotsutsuji’s face relaxes into the first real smile that Ramuda’s seen on him today. “Send it to me once it’s finished.”

He leaves without waiting for a reply, and as soon as he passed through the door, he breathes a sigh of relief.

Now, at the very least, he should be able to avoid last time’s outcome.

---

Ramuda’s only half paying attention as he walks back to his apartment.

Fall has set in and it’s starting to get chilly, and he shivers a little as a gust of wind hits him. Dark clouds are gathering in the sky, and Ramuda curses the fact that he doesn’t have an umbrella on him, instead opting to take a shortcut through the park.

He quickens his pace, calculating how many blocks he has left to his apartment, and he determines that he’ll probably be able to beat the rain, if –

A dark green coat catches his eye, and he comes to an abrupt halt.

It’s probably someone else. It’s not like there’s only one green coat in the world, or even just in Shibuya, and he’s pretty sure he never came across Dice any time before forming Fling Posse. Then again, it’s not like he’d been looking out for Dice then either, so it’s entirely possible they could have passed by each other without ever realizing it.

But even if it is Dice, that’s none of his business.

He steps closer to the green coat.

The person in the green coat is lying on a park bench, curled up on their side. Another gust of wind blows by, pulling at the hood of the coat, and Ramuda catches a glimpse of messy dark blue hair, before the hood is tugged back down.

Fuck, it’s Arisugawa Dice.

“I will not help him,” Ramuda mutters to himself, turning on his heel. The last thing he needs right now is that sort of liability, and as far as he can tell, Dice was doing just fine on his own before they’d teamed up.

If anything, getting involved with him now will only put them both in more danger. Although he’d never figured out exactly why Chuoku had wanted him to keep an eye on Dice, he has his suspicions, and if they find out that –

Dice sneezes, loudly.

Ramuda glances back before he can stop himself, and finds Dice shivering.

“God, fine,” Ramuda huffs under his breath, and with that, he marches over to the bench. Dice doesn’t seem to notice him, burrowed too far into his coat, and before Ramuda can change his mind again, he says, “You’re not planning on sleeping here, are you?”

The coat shifts a little, revealing Dice’s face. His expression is more curious than suspicious as he asks, “What’s it to you?”

“It looks like it’s going to rain,” Ramuda says, and as if to emphasize his point, a raindrop hits his cheek. He wipes it away, and glances up at the gray sky, before looking back at Dice pointedly.

“You got somewhere else for me to stay?” Dice asks, pulling himself up into a sitting position.

For a moment, Ramuda hesitates, but then he says, “Sure.”

Dice blinks at him, looking caught off guard, but then a grin spreads over his face, and he says, “Great! Which way?”

Ramuda kind of wants to brain him with a rock.

Great? Which way? It’s as if he’s asking to be murdered! Or worse! This Dice doesn’t even have a mic to defend himself with, and Ramuda’s pretty sure that if he wanted to, he could kill Dice right now and no one would ever know.

Dice didn’t survive until twenty because he could take care of himself, Ramuda decides. He survived because he’s the luckiest bastard in the goddamn world.

“It’s only a few blocks,” Ramuda says, giving Dice his fakest smile to date.

Dice, the absolute fucking idiot, follows him.

By some miracle, they manage to avoid the worst of the rain. Ramuda doubts any of his clothes would fit Dice, and Dice doesn’t look like he has any spare clothes on him either, and briefly, Ramuda wonders if he should bring some things that might fit over from his workshop tomorrow.

He catches himself before he goes too far down that train of thought, though. That would imply that Dice is staying.

“Wow,” Dice says, as Ramuda lets him into the apartment. “You have a nice place.”

Briefly, Ramuda wonders if he should hide his valuables, just in case.

“I’m going to make dinner,” Ramuda announces, kicking off his shoes and heading towards the kitchen. “Do you want anything?”

“Really?” Dice blurts out, his eyes lighting up. “Yeah, sure! I’m starving.”

“I can’t make anything fancy,” Ramuda warns him, but future Dice hadn’t cared, and past Dice doesn’t seem to either.

There are still two packets of instant ramen in Ramuda’s cupboard, so he throws them in a pot. A search through the fridge reveals a couple of eggs, too, and he starts to hard boil them, before getting out a cutting board and chopping up some green onions. Jakurai would probably nag him about nutrition if he knew, but he can practically see Dice salivating, camped out at the kitchen table.

Ramuda spoons the ramen into two bowls, and he hears Dice’s stomach growl.

“Thanks!” Dice chirps, as Ramuda passes him a bowl. He barely gets the words out of his mouth, though, before he’s shoving ramen into his mouth, slurping up the noodles at what would be an alarming pace, if Ramuda hadn’t seen it before.

It makes something in Ramuda’s chest feel warm, and he freezes as he realizes a smile’s made its way onto his mouth, unforced. He makes himself look away from Dice and focus on his own food, fishing noodles out of the broth, and he tries not to think about how today’s dinner is the same as yesterday’s.

It takes Dice less than five minutes to drain his bowl, and he looks down at it like he’s contemplating whether or not to lick it.

“So,” Ramuda says, “how much do you think I can get for your organs?”

“What?” Dice replies, blinking at him.

“I’m not sure what the market price is,” Ramuda continues, keeping his tone light. “You seem pretty young and healthy, though, so I’m sure that’s a plus. You’re not an alcoholic or anything, are you?”

“You’re planning on selling my organs?” Dice asks, finally starting to eye Ramuda a little more cautiously.

“This is why you shouldn’t just follow strangers home,” Ramuda says cheerily, but there’s a bite to his tone.

“You’re tiny, though,” Dice replies. His suspicious expression clears up, as if he’s reassured himself. “And cute. I’m pretty sure I could take you.”

“What if I drugged you, huh?” Ramuda huffs, finally letting his mouth curve down into a frown. “Or what if I had accomplices? My cute face could just be to draw in idiots like you.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Dice admits reluctantly. He leans back into his chair, relaxed, as if he’s not even considering running. “But I don’t feel like I’ve been drugged.” Ramuda tries not to think about how Dice knows this. “And there’s no one else here, so it’s fine, right?”

“What if I’m just waiting to attack you later,” Ramuda presses, his mouth set in a stubborn line.

For a moment, Dice studies him, eyes sharp in a way that makes Ramuda’s skin prickle. But then the corners of Dice’s mouth quirk up, forming something more akin to a smirk than a smile, and he says, “How about we make a bet?”

“A bet?” Ramuda repeats.

“Yeah,” Dice says. “I bet you’re a good person.”

Ramuda stares at him.

“If you are, I get to stay here for free,” Dice continues with a grin. “If you’re not, I guess you said you were gonna, what? Sell my organs? But I’m pretty lucky, so I don’t think I’m gonna lose this one.”

It takes a moment for the words to sink in, but once they have, Ramuda can’t contain the laughter building in his throat. It’s such a Dice thing to say, and Ramuda doesn’t know why he’d ever thought the outcome would be any different, and before he knows it, he’s doubled over in laughter, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re so weird,” he says, once he’s finally managed to catch his breath. He smiles, and adds, “I guess we’ll see if you still have your organs tomorrow morning.”

It’s good to have Dice back.

---

Ramuda hadn’t realized how much he missed his posse.

It’s only been a couple of weeks since he was sent back into the past, but he hadn’t noticed how much stress he’d built up. Sure, it’s nice that Jakurai doesn’t hate him anymore, but it still takes constant effort not to slip up and say something too mean, too used to exchanging insults.

With Dice, though, it’s easy. Sure, he’s a little younger than he was before, but he still acts pretty much the same. He’s like a stray cat, disappearing during the day and returning back around dinnertime, sometimes with a grin and a pocketful of cash, and other times with a few new bruises.

Ramuda restocks the first aid kit and starts buying enough groceries for two. Instant ramen three nights a week gets replaced with a few simple recipes he finds online, and he tries to tell himself that it’s just because he was getting sick of ramen.

He tries to remember what Gentarō used to make for them.

“Ramuda-kun?”

Ramuda’s broken out of his thoughts.

“Hm?” he replies absently, plastering a smile on his face and looking up at Jakurai.

“Would you mind if I stopped in the bookstore briefly?” Jakurai asks, pointing over to a shop on their left. They’re at a shopping center today, ostensibly for “special training,” but mainly because there’s a new café that Ramuda wants to try. Jakurai still hasn’t called him out on how bullshit their “special training” sessions are, and it’s kind of fun to see how far he can push it.

Ramuda makes a considering noise, but then says, “Okay, but you have to be quick! The café I want to go to gets really busy at lunch.”

“It won’t take long,” Jakurai assures him, starting for the bookstore.

Ramuda doesn’t spend much time in bookstores. He has a decent collection of photography books, but he’s never really been one for reading, and he trails after Jakurai through the shelves, not really paying attention to where they’re going.

However, he stops in his tracks as he sees Jakurai pick up a book from a display.

“I was worried they’d be sold out,” Jakurai says, a relieved smile on his face as he holds up Yumeno Gentarō’s newest novel.

“You read Gentarō’s books?” Ramuda blurts out, before he can stop himself.

Jakurai blinks at him, and asks, “Is that surprising?”

Ramuda opens his mouth to reply, but then pauses. After all, at this point in time, there’s no reason why Jakurai wouldn’t read Gentarō’s books. They’re not on opposing teams, and it’s not like Gentarō’s even started rapping yet, so as far as Jakurai’s concerned, he’s just a popular author.

“I don’t know,” Ramuda finally says, trying to keep his tone light. “I just didn’t think his books would be your sort of thing.”

“You’ve read Yumeno-sensei’s books?” Jakurai asks. His eyes light up a little, and for a moment, Ramuda can’t help but find it a little cute.

Wait, cute?

“I’ve read a couple,” Ramuda answers, shoving that thought to the back of his mind to examine later. He reaches out to pick up a book from the display, showing it to Jakurai. “I liked this one.”

“That’s one of my favorites,” Jakurai says with a smile. The smile does funny things to Ramuda’s insides. “I didn’t see the ending coming at all.”

“Gentarō’s endings are always good,” Ramuda agrees.

He hadn’t liked them at first, actually. After Chuoku had told him to form a team with Gentarō, he’d picked up one of Gentarō’s books out of curiosity. He’d thought it was interesting enough until the ending, which had left him irritable for days, and the worst part was that he couldn’t quite put his finger on why.

After their first division battle, though, he’d tried reading it again. He’d finished it in less than a day, and then went out and bought the rest of Gentarō’s books, tearing through them in less than a week.

All of Gentarō’s books have happy endings. Separated family members find each other again. Misunderstandings are cleared up. Comatose patients make a miraculous recovery.

It hadn’t felt realistic, he’d thought. It wasn’t until he met Gentarō that he’d realized, maybe, it didn’t have to be realistic.

“Do you want to read it together?”

Ramuda blinks at Jakurai, broken out of his thoughts.

“Yumeno-sensei’s newest book,” Jakurai clarifies. When Ramuda doesn’t reply immediately, his face goes a little pink, and he adds, “We could read it at the same time and then discuss it. I’d like to hear what you think about it.”

I’ve already read it, Ramuda almost says, but manages to catch himself. According to the sign on the display, the book came out yesterday.

“I don’t know,” Ramuda says reluctantly. “Work’s been busy so I don’t think I’ll have time.”

“Oh,” Jakurai replies, his hopeful look dissipating. “I suppose it can’t be helped.” He pauses, then says, “Let me go pay for this, and then – ”

“Okay, fine,” Ramuda huffs, cutting Jakurai off. He reaches out to pick up another copy of the book and shoves it at Jakurai. “You get to pay for my copy, though.”

“Are you sure?” Jakurai asks, but that hopeful look is back again. It’s such a change from his usual cool, gloomy expression that Ramuda can’t look at it for too long, instead turning on his heel to head back towards the register.

“Come on, I’m hungry,” Ramuda complains, glancing back to pout at Jakurai. “Just buy the books so we can go eat.”

Jakurai does as he’s told.

It was probably a bad idea to agree to Jakurai’s little book club, Ramuda thinks as they wait in line at the register. He won’t be able to share even half of his opinions on Gentarō’s book – not without revealing too much, at least – but he can’t help but be curious about how Gentarō’s writing appears through Jakurai’s eyes.

For a moment, he finds himself wondering what it would be like to have Jakurai, Gentarō, and Dice all on his team.

Technically, in this timeline, it might be possible.

As soon as the thought fully sinks in, though, Ramuda does his best to erase it from his mind. Right now, his priority should be to keep Dice and Gentarō as far off of Chuoku’s radar as possible, and he already has his hands full with keeping Jakurai and Yotsutsuji out of the line of fire.

Fantasies like that might be okay in Gentarō’s novels, but he can’t let himself start thinking they could ever become reality.

---

Ramuda’s changing when the doorbell rings.

“Dice!” he yells, pulling his head through the neck of his shirt. “Can you get the door?”

“I’ve got it!” Dice replies. His voice is followed by the thump of footsteps, and Ramuda focuses back on getting dressed, rummaging around in his closet for a jacket that doesn’t completely clash with today’s color palette.

It only takes Ramuda a few more minutes to find the right one, and soon he’s headed down the hallway. He finds Dice in the entryway, and Jakurai standing stiffly in front of the door, the smile on his face polite, but obviously forced. Dice doesn’t seem to notice, chatting on about something, and Ramuda can feel a smile tugging at his lips as he goes in to save Jakurai from whatever conversation Dice is trying to have.

“I’m ready!” Ramuda announces, bounding towards the door. He starts to tug on his shoes, and looks back at Dice to ask, “Are you going to be out late tonight?”

“I dunno,” Dice replies, frowning as he considers it. “I’ll probably be back around eight.”

“Okay,” Ramuda says. He straightens up, his shoelaces neatly tied. “Text me when you start heading back, and don’t forget to lock up when you leave.” With that, he turns to Jakurai and says, “Let’s go!”

He heads out the door, and Jakurai follows him.

The walk to Jakurai’s car is quiet, but as soon as Ramuda’s seated in the passenger seat, Jakurai asks, “Who was that?”

“Hm?” Ramuda replies absently, taking out his phone and scrolling through his new messages. “You mean Dice? He’s just staying with me for a little while.”

Jakurai goes quiet for a moment, but it’s not a pleasant sort of quiet. It makes Ramuda’s skin prickle, and he glances over at Jakurai, tensing slightly as he takes in Jakurai’s expression. It’s the one that says Jakurai’s not entirely convinced by his answer, and Ramuda tries to think of a way to explain Dice’s presence, without –

“He seems,” Jakurai says slowly, a little haltingly, “young.”

Ramuda blinks at him, caught off guard.

“I think he’s – ” Ramuda does a quick calculation. “ – eighteen? Almost nineteen.”

“So he’s underage,” Jakurai says, his tone a little clipped, and now Ramuda’s lost the thread of this conversation entirely. “Do his parents know he’s staying with you?”

Ramuda can feel his forehead creasing, the corners of his mouth tugging down in a frown as he tries to puzzle out where Jakurai’s going with this – and what sort of lie he should tell to satisfy Jakurai – but finally he says, “Probably not. He doesn’t get along with his mom.”

And judging by the fact that he’s too young to rent an apartment without parental consent…

“I think he ran away from home,” Ramuda surmises, for once opting for the truth. There’s no reason for Jakurai to think Dice has any connection to Chuoku, just based off this. “I found him sleeping in the park.”

When he looks back at Jakurai again, he finds that Jakurai’s expression has transformed into surprised.

It rubs Ramuda entirely the wrong way, and before he can think better of it, he snaps, “What? You think I can’t do nice things for people?”

“No, that’s not – ” Jakurai starts, unusually flustered. He hesitates, and then says, “I’m sorry. Because of what you said about Samatoki-kun’s sister the other day, I… made some incorrect assumptions. I know you wouldn’t actually do something like that.”

Now Ramuda’s even more lost than before.

“Hah?” Ramuda replies, a little of his natural tone bleeding through. “What does Nemu have to do with – ” Realization clicks, and he huffs, “I’m not sleeping with Dice!”

“I understand that,” Jakurai says, and he keeps his voice even, but Ramuda can see the flush spreading out over his cheeks. “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

“I said I was just joking about Nemu,” Ramuda complains, forcing his voice into petulant, high-pitched indignation. “And you know I only go for people older than me. It’s more fun to have someone dote on me.”

“I’m sorry,” Jakurai says again, more softly.

The rest of the car ride to Samatoki’s office is spent in silence. Truth be told, Ramuda’s a little glad that Jakurai made the assumption that he did, if only because it means that Chuoku is entirely off his radar. And now that he’s been proved wrong, he’ll probably be too embarrassed to bring up Dice again, or even think about him too deeply, so things definitely could have gone worse.

Ramuda’s phone buzzes with a text, and he grimaces as he finds it’s from Yotsutsuji. Really, Jakurai has no room to talk about him taking in a teenager, although granted, it’s not like he’s adopted Dice or anything.

Briefly, he wonders what sort of jokes Gentarō would make if he could see them now. Dice would probably hate it.

Ramuda pushes that thought from his mind and focuses back on Yotsutsuji’s text. It’s a revised version of the verse Ramuda had told him to write, and Ramuda checks over it quickly. Yotsutsuji’s smart and well-read, so the lyrics themselves aren’t that bad, but it’s hard to imagine how it’ll flow, how it’ll sit on a beat, and Ramuda bites back a sigh.

The problem with Yotsutsuji, Ramuda has decided, is that he has no sense of rhythm. At least with Nemu and the younger Yamada brothers, Ramuda knows they can rap well, so if he can just get them to start trying, things should work themselves out. But Yotsutsuji…

Ramuda finds some freestyle beats on YouTube and sends the links to Yotsutsuji. He probably should have done this first.

Jakurai was much easier to train.

“We’re here,” Jakurai says, sliding the car into a parking space.

Ramuda makes a noise of acknowledgement in reply, shooting off one more text to Yotsutsuji and then sticking his phone in his pocket.

Ichirō’s already there in Samatoki’s office, arguing with Samatoki about something, and Ramuda pasters a smile on his face as he bounds into the room.

“Ichirō! Samatoki! Good morning!” Ramuda chirps, interrupting their argument. He plops himself onto the couch, directly in between the two of them, and it’s enough to shock them out of their argument, instead just eyeing each other for a moment, before dropping the subject.

Jakurai takes one of the chairs on the opposite side of the coffee table. Sometimes, Ramuda wonders why Samatoki and Ichirō both sit on the couch if they’re just going to argue, but it might just be because it makes the arguing easier.

“You two are late,” Samatoki huffs, narrowing his eyes at Ramuda.

“I needed to pick out the perfect outfit,” Ramuda says, puffing up his cheeks in a pout. He jumps up from the couch again to do a twirl, and asks, “See, isn’t it cute?”

Samatoki shoots Jakurai a look which Ramuda roughly interprets as, How do you put up with this shit? Jakurai just smiles back.

“It’s very colorful,” Ichirō offers tentatively.

“You guys have no fashion sense,” Ramuda huffs, plopping himself back down on the couch. “It’s embarrassing to get photographed with you.”

“Maybe we should start the meeting,” Ichirō says. It’s a clear attempt to change the topic before another argument ensues, but Ramuda allows it, and Samatoki brings up a map of their current territory.

Team meetings are actually pretty boring. Ramuda likes battling, but the planning and negotiations are always a pain. It was easier in the future, at least, with Chuoku organizing everything into a simple tournament, even if it did mean that winning got you nothing in terms of power and control.

Technically, TDD has control over all of Tokyo at this point, but apparently there’s been some disturbances in the Kita ward. Ramuda listens idly as Samatoki, Ichirō, and Jakurai discus whether to deal with the situation themselves or have one of their subordinate teams take care of it, and if Ramuda remembers correctly, they’d ended up taking care of it directly.

It’s not that their subordinate teams in Kita were that bad, really. It was just that it was more efficient to take care of it themselves.

“You know, I was thinking,” Ramuda says, abruptly interrupting the conversation. Samatoki, Ichirō, and Jakurai all turn towards them. “Maybe we should recruit some more people.”

“We already have so many subordinate teams we can barely keep track of them all,” Samatoki snorts, giving Ramuda an unimpressed look.

“Not like that,” Ramuda huffs. He pulls a lollipop out of his pocket and unwarps it, sticking it in his mouth. “I mean people with talent we can actually train to keep up with us.”

“You want to expand the team?” Jakurai asks, his expression considering.

“Maybe not expand it,” Ramuda says around his lollipop. He takes it out of his mouth for a moment to explain, “But maybe make a few subgroups who we can trust to handle things that we wouldn’t trust a subordinate team with.”

“Did you have someone in mind?” Ichirō asks, frowning slightly.

“Not really,” Ramuda answers, pretending to think about it. He hesitates, but then says, “Maybe someone like Nemu?”

“No.”

Samatoki’s answer comes quick and forceful.

“Why not?” Ramuda asks, cocking his head slightly. “You’re good at rapping, so Nemu might have the same talent. And she’s been watching your battles for a few years now, so she probably has at least a basic understanding of rap at this point.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Samatoki says, his voice low and firm. His gaze is sharp enough that most people would back down, but Ramuda doesn’t flinch. “I don’t want her anywhere near territory battles. It’ll just paint a target on her back.”

“Are you saying she’s not a target yet?” Ramuda replies, infusing his voice with false confusion. “She’s already been kidnapped once.”

That comment makes Samatoki pause.

“But if you think she can win against someone with a mic unarmed,” Ramuda continues with a smile.

“It’s not a bad idea,” Jakurai says. He keeps his tone neutral, probably to keep from setting off Samatoki. “As long as she’s associated with us, there’s a chance she could be targeted.”

“Teaching her to use a mic and letting her battle are two different things,” Samatoki huffs, and Ramuda has to bite back a smirk.

After all, he doesn’t really need Nemu to participate in territory battles. He just needs her to be able to defend herself from a clone or two.

“If we’re going to teach Nemu how to rap, then maybe we should include Ichirō’s brothers too,” Ramuda says, carefully pivoting the conversation. “They’re still in middle school, but if we start training them now – ”

“They’re too young,” Ichirō’s tone is even harsher than Samatoki’s, and when Ramuda meets Ichirō’s eyes, he stiffens up for a moment.

He’s been on the other end of this glare before, but never as a teammate.

“They won’t need to defend themselves because I’ll do it myself,” Ichirō says firmly. “I won’t let them get kidnapped again.”

“Ichirō-kun – ” Jakurai starts.

“I’ve already put them through enough,” Ichirō snaps. He looks surprised by his own outburst, but he doesn’t try to take his words back, instead continuing with, “I promised that I’d protect them, and I know I did a shit job of it before, but I want them to have a normal childhood.” He takes a deep breath and then looks up to meet Ramuda’s eyes. “When they’re older, if they want to rap, I’ll think about it. But for right now, you’ll have to find somebody else.”

Ramuda resists the urge to click his tongue. He’d known that convincing Ichirō wouldn’t be easy, but he hadn’t expected it to be this hard. Maybe he’ll just have to go on his own and –

“And I know you talked to my brothers the other day,” Ichirō says, his tone going sharp again. It makes both Samatoki and Jakurai look at Ramuda, and his heartrate increases slightly.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ramuda huffs, fake offence in his tone. “I just happened to see them and thought I’d treat them to – ”

“Ramuda-san,” Ichirō interrupts. His hands are resting against his thighs, clenched into fists, so tight that it’s making his knuckles blanch. “I respect that you’re trying to help, but my brothers are none of your business.”

With that, Ichirō stands up from the couch.

“If that’s all for today’s meeting, I’m going to head out,” Ichirō says. He pauses, looking down at the three of them, but no one tries to stop him from leaving.

It’s not until Ichirō’s out the door that Ramuda feels like he can breathe again.

For a moment, the three of them are quiet, but then Samatoki says, “I’ll talk to Nemu. If she wants to try rapping, I’m not going to stop her, but I won’t let her battle. You’ll have to find other people for that.”

“Okay, okay,” Ramuda sighs, sinking back into the couch. “I thought it was such a good plan, too…”

He steals a glance at Jakurai, and finds an expression that’s far too considering for his liking.

Things are going to get risky from here on out.