Chapter Text
Seishu leans back against the shuttered wall of S.S. Motors, fanning the collar of his shirt as he recovers from the oppressive summer heat. The metal against his back is cool even through the fabric, and he exhales in relief with a small smile. The bike shop is as crowded as usual, delinquents years older than him chatting and looking over their rides.
Shinichiro is near the front, seeming to be dealing with a new order that just came in. There are a couple of kids crowding around him, looking around Seishu’s age or younger, excited and wide eyed as they press in close to look at the new parts. Seishu can’t hear it over the other people and the low rock music playing from the radio, but he sees Shinichiro laugh and gently try to herd them away.
It seems like it doesn’t matter who it is; Shinichiro is great with everyone, kids and adults alike drawn to his charisma and humble spirit. Seishu admires that. He’s never known anyone else who could command that much respect, doesn’t think he’s ever even met anyone who deserves it as much as Shinichiro does.
Seishu wonders what it’d be like to be someone like that. Someone reliable and someone to be looked up to, someone who you can talk to and feel all your problems crumble away. He remembers coming here once, soon after Akane died and his home was suffocating with grief and Koko was too zombie-like to even talk to. Seishu had cried and cried, found himself here without even thinking about it, running into someone’s chest and looking up through tears at Shinichiro’s worried face.
They’d talked for hours that day, Shinichiro passing him tissues and kindly ignoring Seishu’s splotchy, snotty face. They’d talked about grief, what it meant to lose someone, and Seishu felt like Shinichiro knew exactly what he was going through. After that, Seishu had finally felt clarity, a bit of peace in the wake of disaster. To this day, he has no idea if Shinichiro had spoken from experience.
Since then, S.S. Motors has been a safe haven. It doesn’t matter that Seishu is younger or that he’s not in a gang; as long as you like bikes, you’re family. Sometimes, he thinks about bringing Koko here. Introducing him to Shinichiro, giving him something to do other than nose around in shady places and get his hands on as much money as possible. Seishu doesn’t know why Koko still does it. He wonders if Koko would finally accept that Akane was gone if he talked to Shinichiro.
Seishu shakes his head, tapping it lightly against the shutters. He’s here to clear his head, not to muck it up. Koko could make his own choices. All Seishu knows is that it would be nice to follow someone like Shinichiro, if he couldn’t become someone like that himself. Some older guys are talking to Shinichiro now, probably asking advice about this or that, and Shinichiro leans back against a counter with an easy smile as they talk. Confidence practically radiates from him, and as Seishu watches, he’s so drawn in that he doesn’t even notice the other kids disappeared until one pops up next to him.
It’s the taller one of the two he’d seen, towering over where Seishu sits, blond hair pulled back into a short ponytail on top of his head. The sides are clean shaven, and on one side sits a poised dragon, elegant black lines swirling down behind his ear. Seishu gapes up at him, surprised and somewhat awed.
“What’s up?” the boy asks him. He sounds casual enough, but his features are serious and his eyes indecipherable. Is this guy in a gang? Judging from his appearance and how he carries himself, Seishu bets he is.
“Uh,” Seishu hesitates, “nothing. I’m just watching Shinichiro-kun.”
“You know Shin-kun?” the boy asks, folding his long legs to plop down next to Seishu, angled toward him. At eye level, the boy is less intimidating, easier to recognize as someone his own age.
“Mm, kind of,” Seishu hums. “He helped me out with some stuff a while back, and since then I just like to hang out here.”
“You look kind of scruffy,” the boy observes, giving him a casual once-over.
Seishu tugs self-consciously at his oversized shirt, suddenly aware of the burn scar on his face and his drooping hair. He hadn’t put enough gel in to keep it up this morning, apparently.
“Sorry, didn’t mean that in a bad way,” the boy laughs. “You fit in here.”
“Ah…” Seishu scratches his neck. “Thanks.”
“What’s your name? I’m Ryuguji Ken, but most people call me Draken!” the boy says, puffing up his chest with a proud grin. He tilts his head to the side a little too, showing off his tattoo more as if it wasn’t the first thing anyone would notice about him.
Seishu smiles softly, getting more comfortable. “I’m Inui Seishu.”
“So you like bikes then, huh, Inui? You ever ridden on one?” Draken asks, a twinkle in his eye.
“No,” Seishu admits, clenching his hands in longing. “Got no one to pass one down to me.”
“Man,” Drake exhales, leaning back sympathetically. “My friend is kinda like that. He’s been riding around on this moped, his Street Hawk, while the rest of us on bikes have to wait for him.” Draken makes a face that’s somewhere between a smile and a grimace at the thought.
Seishu imagines the sight, stifling a laugh at the idea of a boy on a moped surrounded by a motorcade filled with shiny metal and loud revving. “That sounds annoying,” he says.
Draken shrugs. “We’re used to it, honestly. It’s not so bad, and besides, he’s our leader.”
“Your leader?” Seishu asks. So Draken must be in a gang after all, but he’s clearly not a Black Dragon if this moped kid is his boss.
Draken laughs softly. “Yeah, yeah, this little brat we all follow around for some reason. Name’s Mikey. Actually,” Draken leans back on his hands, “he’s Shin-kun’s little brother.”
Seishu’s mouth gapes. “Seriously?” he asks, heart pounding a little in excitement. He hadn’t known Shinichiro had any siblings, let alone one who was also leading a gang. Seishu wonders if charisma runs in their family, or if they’re just trying to take over Japan.
Draken raises a hand to point over to the opposite side of that shop. “Yeah, see that tiny blond kid trying to climb Shin-kun? That’s Mikey.”
Seishu looks over, eyes catching on exactly what Draken described; a boy with short limbs, shaggy blond hair, and a pink sweatshirt swings his legs dangerously over Shinichiro’s shoulders, stretching out his shirt in a vice grip to keep his balance.
“That’s… your leader?” Seishu asks incredulously. His chest pangs when he looks back at Draken, suddenly realizing the skeptical tone in his voice and how rude he must have sounded. “I mean—“
“It’s okay,” Draken says, “trust me, we all know how it looks. But you wouldn’t believe how strong he is. When I first met Mikey, we were in elementary, and he took out a whole group of high schoolers by himself! I’m pretty sure he could kill somebody with his kicks.”
“Woah…” Seishu has trouble imagining it, someone of Mikey’s stature taking out guys several years older than him, but somehow he believes it.
“We’re gonna create a new era for delinquents,” Draken continues. “That’s his dream.”
Seishu sees the confidence in Draken’s face, a mature smile that reminds him a lot of Shinichiro. There’s no doubt in Draken’s mind that their era will come to fruition. Seishu wonders if he can be part of that era and continue what Shinichiro began.
“That’s really amazing,” Seishu says honestly. “I hope you guys make it happen.”
Draken beams back at him, eyes crinkling. “Hell yeah!”
-
When Seishu leaves reform school, it’s in Shinichiro’s old black high heels and a white uniform belonging to a gang that no longer exists. When he hears the 9th-generation Black Dragons are over and done with, beaten by a group of kids a year younger than them called the Tokyo Manji Gang, a part of him settles in relief. Another much larger part of him seizes in panic.
If the Black Dragons are gone, he can’t continue Shinichiro’s dream, and then what would have been the point of any of this? He’d heard during his last few months in juvie that Shinichiro had died. Izana had already ruined things. He had ruined Seishu. But now… Seishu is the only one who has the chance to take it back and make things right.
Koko tells him to stop living in the past, but Koko doesn’t have any right to talk. It’s fine; Seishu doesn’t need his help, he’ll revive the gang on his own.
Seishu loses for the first time against Taiju, a beast from Koko’s school who agrees to lead the tenth generation and ropes Koko into it too. Maybe Seishu can’t lead them how he wanted, but they can still be strong. The Black Dragons were always meant to rule Japan.
-
Seishu is barely listening as Koko fills him in on the rat of the day, but his ears prick at the mention of the Tokyo Manji Gang. The gang that had defeated the ninth generation. The gang led by Shinichiro’s little brother. He remembers the ones who stepped on their turf before, the pathetic first division captain Taiju’s little brother dragged in.
So they’re planning an attack, secret even from the rest of Toman? It’s brave of them to try, but Black Dragon is the strongest. Even if it means crushing what’s left of Shinichiro, he looks forward to putting Toman in its place on Christmas day.
-
When Seishu stumbles out of the church, the cold shocks him just as much as the sight of a dragon tattoo on a tall boy, looking like it’s just another day as he crouches in front of a hundred fallen Black Dragons. Seishu himself is barely battered, but this sight makes Taiju’s loss sink deep into his bones. They’d been utterly, completely defeated.
He’d heard Mikey say it as Seishu held Taiju up, eyes calm and dark. That the Black Dragons were strong, but they couldn’t create a new era. That Taiju had no heart.
Words from days long past echo in Seishu’s head, promises of a new dawn and strength to beat out the rest. It makes sense that Mikey won. Taiju’s Black Dragons weren’t Shinichiro’s; they never should have existed. Seishu’s dream comes to an end on the steps of that church, Taiju slumped on his knees and head bowed in something other than reverence for the first time. It’s not a bad time for a new beginning, he supposes. Seishu looks up at the night sky, at the vibrant lights strung up across trees and buildings, and he walks away from that battle with a new goal in mind.
-
The day after Christmas, Seishu goes to Mikey with Hanagaki’s battered, resolute face sharp in his mind. That spirit to unflinchingly face off against someone bigger and stronger with no hope of victory was unmistakably Shinichiro’s; what better option was there to lead the Black Dragons? Surely Mikey wanted to keep it alive too, the legacy his brother had started and passed down for years to come.
Shinichiro had never said it to Seishu directly, but he knew Mikey was meant to take over. Instead, Toman was born, and Mikey had beaten two consecutive generations of his brother’s gang. So if Mikey didn’t want any hand in it, Seishu would hold onto it instead. The Black Dragons would become part of Toman, and Hanagaki would keep their spirit alive.
That’s what Seishu hopes, until he voices it to Mikey and gets shut down nearly immediately. He isn’t sure what Mikey means when he talks about finding Hanagaki first and not letting Seishu have him. There isn’t anything Seishu wants from Hanagaki other than this, and in exchange, Seishu will be his weapon.
Mikey huffs and turns away from him, burying his chin in his scarf as he tells Seishu he’ll consider it only if Hanagaki really wants to. That’s a good enough approval for him, and Seishu leaves the shrine feeling lighter, feeling like he finally chose the right path after so many times led astray.
On his way home, Seishu gets lost in his thoughts watching his breaths fog in the frigid air and listening to the crunch of snow beneath his boots. It isn’t until he hears the rev of a bike crackle through the silence that his head snaps up, eyes fixing on a figure speeding down the road in his direction. Seishu stops, blinking as the bike slows down near him, and watches as the tall figure sitting astride it takes his helmet off.
It’s Draken. That silhouette is burned into his head after yesterday. But even without that, even if he hadn’t seen with his own eyes how Draken had grown up and become even stronger than he boasted about Mikey being on that one summer day in a now-abandoned bike shop, he’d recognize the tattoo anywhere. He wonders if Draken remembers him too. He hadn’t seen Seishu yesterday, taking a metal pipe and his fists to his friends’ bodies. That part of the fight was long over by the time Draken arrived.
“Inui,” Draken nods at him, calm eyes looking over his hair, his scar, the prim white coat he wears with Black Dragon’s logo emblazoned across the back.
Somehow, Seishu feels ashamed. Draken knows what the Black Dragons were supposed to be, and now he’s seen firsthand just how far they’ve fallen. If it wasn’t freezing out, Seishu might have shed his coat right there.
“Guess you finally got your hands on a bike, huh?” Draken says, grinning at him. Seishu lets out a surprised laugh and walks a few steps closer.
“Among other things,” he agrees. Looking at him now, Seishu sees Draken has grown well into his height. He’s no longer all lanky long limbs; he’s strong and lean, even bundled in winter clothes. Seishu sighs. “I should be angry about yesterday, but I’m not.”
“Yeah?” Draken looks at him curiously. “Why’s that?”
Seishu huffs a breath out his nose. “You’re going to think this sounds stupid.”
“Like I care.”
Well, he’d already told it to Mikey and gotten laughed at. Nothing left to lose. “It’s just that… when your guys were all beat up and realized Mikey wasn’t coming, they looked hopeless. One of ‘em took a blow to the head—” Seishu doesn’t say he did it, “—and the others had gotten thrown around. Hakkai couldn’t even stand up to his brother to help his captain.”
Draken’s face becomes more serious as he speaks, brows furrowing together.
“But then, even when it seemed like it was kill or be killed, that Hanagaki kid stopped Hakkai from going after Taiju with a knife. Said he’d show him what it meant to fight back.” Seishu laughs to himself, still incredulous. “And he did! He stood there and grinned and took on a monster twice his size, damn near got his face caved in, and said he wasn’t gonna lose.”
Seishu shakes his head. “That’s the stupid part. I thought he looked just like Shinichiro right then. I thought he was crazy.”
Draken laughs loudly, surprising him. “That’s Takemitchy for you! He is crazy. After all that, he went crying to his girlfriend for breaking up with her out of nowhere. Weak to women, weak at fighting, just like Shinichiro-kun.”
Just like that, Seishu’s back in S.S. Motors, laughing at Shinichiro’s embarrassed blush as another senpai tells him about Shinichiro’s latest strikeout. It was a succinct and perhaps harsh way to summarize him, but Draken was right. It seems like it’s not just Mikey carrying on Shinichiro’s spirit, then. If Draken, Seishu himself, and the rest of Toman’s founders all remember him this way, then maybe it’s not all up to Seishu to keep his memory alive.
“The Black Dragons are joining Toman,” Seishu says, looking Draken in the eye and daring him to challenge it. “I want Hanagaki to lead the 11th generation. I already talked to Mikey about it.”
He clenches his hands, trying not to waver. “You understand, right?” Seishu asks.
Draken looks back at him, thoughts impossible to parse behind his dark eyes. “Yeah, I do.”
-
Just as Seishu intended, he and Koko become Hanagaki’s tools, but they don’t become friends. It makes sense; Hanagaki has no reason to trust them after Christmas, and things are calm for a while anyways, so they’re never called on. It isn’t until over a month later, deep into February, that things go wrong.
He and Koko are nabbed right out of their hideout by Izana’s S-62 Ghosts, beaten nearly unconscious and thrown into the back of a sleek black car. When they come to, it’s to the dim light of a cold abandoned building. There doesn’t seem to be anyone guarding the doors, but that just means their captors made sure there’s no way out. Besides, both his and Koko’s arms are bound tight to their sides. They have no choice but to wait it out.
Then, Mucho comes in, throwing a limp and battered Hanagaki to the ground in front of them and Seishu thinks, of course, because everything comes back to him. It takes a while, but Hanagaki eventually wakes up and when the boy with the mask over his mouth flicks the lights on, Seishu gets to watch recognition flicker in Hanagaki’s eyes.
Mucho handles the traitors in Toman, so it’s obvious what conclusion he’s come to. Seishu’s connection with Izana goes years back, so by taking the Black Dragons under the first division, Hanagaki has Izana’s spy under his command. He’ll dispose of them all for Toman’s sake.
Except… that’s not it.
Mucho is loyal to Izana, and Tenjiku wants Koko. They want him so they can make money, just like Taiju, and deep down Seishu knows Koko would let them use him. When they’d joined Toman, Koko didn’t talk about Christmas, didn’t talk about Hanagaki, just wondered if Toman would make them any money. Now that choice is on a silver platter in front of him, to choose money over Seishu—no, to choose money for Seishu, because Mucho would kill him and Hanagaki both to force Koko’s hand.
It’s an easy choice, an obvious one, but Seishu selfishly wishes Koko won’t take it. He can take whatever punishment Mucho doles out if it means Koko won’t get passed around to the next set of greedy hands, the exact thing Seishu hoped to avoid by joining Toman.
Koko hesitates, which makes Seishu feel better, and then worse. Hanagaki is a pathetic sight on the floor, struggling to push himself from his side to his knees, and Seishu wants to laugh at how hopeless this situation is. He’s going to lose something, either his own life or Koko’s, and there’s nothing he can do about it.
Then, as if Seishu’s watching the Christmas showdown unfold in front of him again, Hanagaki gets to his feet and glares up at adversity. His eyes glitter with defiance as he stakes his claim on Koko and tells Mucho it doesn’t matter if he wins or not. It’s déjà vu, Shinichiro’s face flashing in Seishu’s mind, asking him if winning was really that important. Clarity washes over him like a balm, all encompassing just like it had felt when Shinichiro had talked him through the pain that was eating him alive, and Seishu realizes the real choice to make is right in front of him.
He stands from his chair as Hanagaki rushes Mucho and gets a fist right in his face. Seishu told Hanagaki to tell him when he needed him, and in this moment, he can fulfill his duty. Arms bound behind them, they’re at a major disadvantage, but they won’t break. Over and over, they lunge and get knocked back, Mucho shouting taunts at Koko all the while, and it doesn’t stop until Koko finally speaks up.
Seishu staggers, Mucho’s grip the only thing keeping him upright as he coughs blood onto the concrete floor. He tries to tell Koko to shut up, to let them handle this, but he can’t get the words out. Koko giving himself over to Tenjiku is the last thing Seishu hears before everything goes black.
When Hanagaki tries carrying him to the hospital after they come to, Seishu wants to run back and steal Koko back by force. It’s different after it actually happens; it absolutely does matter that they lost. It matters because Koko is gone and it’s Seishu’s fault and maybe they should’ve just fucked off together and let the Black Dragons die because having each other would be better than losing Koko to this—
But it’s too late, and he’s too tired. Hanagaki tells him he’s a good person, that he and Koko both are, and Seishu doesn’t want to hear it after what he’s done—or more, what he’d failed to do. Instead, he takes Hanagaki to the abandoned shell of S.S. Motors, which now functions as his and Koko’s hideout. He looks at Hanagaki under the same lights he used to look at Shinichiro under, albeit dimmer and flickering, and he breaks. He signs away his life to this boy with no sense of self-preservation, who still managed to be better than Seishu ever was. He gives the Black Dragons to Hanagaki and begs him to save them.
When he comes to his senses, Seishu wipes his eyes and leans back against the shutters, still his favorite spot even after all these years. He must be hallucinating from the pain, seeing Shinichiro’s image both over Hanagaki beside him and across the shop tuning up bikes at the same time. Seishu tells Hanagaki everything; what he loved about the Black Dragons, how he fucked it all up, and in all of that, Hanagaki somehow finds something worth fighting for.
-
After years dressed in oppressive white, Seishu gets to put on Toman’s black and feel how it fits him like a second skin, like he was meant for this. The next day marks eleven years since the founding of the original Black Dragons, and the air feels electric and loaded in anticipation for a battle. It’s a mission to take back Koko, and to crush Tenjiku while they’re at it.
Too much goes wrong in the hours leading up to the fight. The second and fourth division captains get hospitalized, and an innocent girl loses her life. When the time comes to head to Yokohama, Toman is in tatters without their top two and with Hanagaki as the only captain. They shouldn’t fight. It’s against everything Seishu knows to go into a losing battle, and Toman agrees.
But then Hanagaki, the insane person that he is, says he’ll go alone if he has to. And his insane friends back him up, inspiring the rest of Toman to share his burden. Maybe that was the difference between Toman and his Black Dragons all along; these people would do anything for each other, but all Seishu ever learned was that self-interest was strength.
When they get to the pier, outnumbered eightfold, Seishu realizes this is a suicide mission. It’s satisfying, at least, to see Shion get his shit rocked by Peh-yan while he’s running his mouth. Seems like some people never learn to stay down after a loss.
Seishu’s all ready to throw down with Mucho to take Koko back, but he should’ve expected having to face Koko himself. It’s the same shit in his ears, people telling him again and again that Koko joined Tenjiku on his own and there was nothing to take back, but Koko’s never gone anywhere on his own before. Whether it was following Akane or Seishu or Taiju, Koko went wherever his keepers led him. Even though Koko only ever listened to Seishu before, he gets the feeling this time won’t be the same.
Under the blinding lights of the pier, fights break out all around them, but all that matters is that Koko’s standing right in front of him, close enough to touch. White always suited Koko better than it did Seishu, but the red is all wrong. It brings out the bruises still fresh on Koko’s face, the bloodshot veins in his eyes.
Koko tells him there’s a place for him in Tenjiku, an easy way to the top, and he just doesn’t get it. That’s never been what it’s been about for Seishu, and shouldn’t Koko know that better than anyone? Seishu tells Koko to stop pretending, and Koko tells Seishu to grow up, and really, they’re the same things they’ve been telling each other for years, falling on deaf ears every time.
He brings up Akane on purpose, and feels Koko’s rage like it’s his own when it crumples his sharp features. Hands that are stronger than he remembers wrap around Seishu’s neck, and when Koko throws his failure with the Black Dragons back in his face, all he can think is keep going and tell me something I don’t already know.
Seishu’s not Akane. He says it like he did when he was pulled from the cinders of his childhood home, says it like he should have when Koko kissed him in the library. He says it because maybe he needs to hear it himself, too: he can never be the person Koko wanted him to be. They’re both fools, obsessed with the idea of something they can’t have, and it’s driven them both crazy.
When his fist connects with Koko’s jaw, he doesn’t feel anything like satisfaction. It’s all desperation, begging Koko to see him for what he is, and hoping he still sees someone worth standing with. Seishu barely listens as Koko pummels him right back, talking about everyone that approached him for money, about Izana, then Taiju—wait, Izana before Taiju? Before Koko even joined the Black Dragons, when Seishu was already losing himself to them?—but the next accusation registers loud and clear.
Just like everyone else, Seishu had used him. He’d used Koko for his pathetic dream that crashed and burned before it ever took off and he’d let it happen because he’d thought, stupidly, that Koko believed in him. Seishu had thought that for at least one person in the world, he was someone worth following, someone as special as Shinichiro.
But he isn’t, and he can’t pretend anymore either. Koko’s hands are shaking where they’re clenched in the front of Seishu’s uniform. This is his chance, isn’t it? To prove that he isn’t just like the others, that he and Koko can just be free of money and broken dreams and move on to something new. Seishu looks into wide eyes that he knows so well but can’t recognize, searches for the answer to a question he doesn’t know how to ask.
Seishu’s eyes burn, unable to find what he’s looking for. He grips Koko’s wrist tight, tells him one more time that Akane is dead, and watches that look splinter into pieces. It’s when Koko’s hand lands on his face gently for the first time in years, speaking to a girl who’ll never hear his words, that Seishu knows he’s lost him for good.
-
Seishu should not be at Emma’s funeral, but he is, because he’s part of Toman. His tie is constricting around his throat, still sore from Koko choking him, and he hates wearing the stiff suit as much as he had during Akane’s funeral.
It’s too hard to look at Mikey. He knows what it means to lose a sister, but even though Seishu was even younger when it happened to him, he can’t compare his grief to Mikey’s. He doesn’t know Mikey well at all, but even Seishu can tell that there’s a part of him that’s never coming back. If he could go back to that morning, praying to Shinichiro and introducing him to Black Dragon’s new leader, Seishu would kill Izana the moment he stepped into the cemetery. It wouldn’t have done anything to stop Kisaki, he knows, but it was Izana’s twisted love and counterfeit family ties that caused all of this in the first place.
He closes his eyes, willing himself to calm down. This is no place to get angry; it would only disturb Emma’s peace. When Seishu looks up again, Draken is kneeling in front of Mikey and his grandfather, bowing his head to the floor. His long hair drapes like a curtain in front of his face, keeping Seishu from seeing whatever expression is on it.
Draken says that he loved Emma, that he’s sorry that he couldn’t protect her, and Seishu suddenly understands that history really does repeat itself. His senses fill with antiseptic, itchy skin under bandages, steady beeping from countless machines, and the crushing weight of debt. He’s experiencing double vision far too often lately, and there must be something wrong with him, but Seishu only sees Koko covered in ash, voice breaking as he tells him that he promised to protect Akane for life.
Seishu looks away again when Draken starts to cry, weak hiccups and sobs too loud in the small building. Someone as strong and commanding as Draken breaking down isn’t a sight Seishu should be privy to.
The moment he’s out of the building, free of the stuffy air and grief, Seishu loosens his tie and rakes shaky hands through his hair. It’s as if he had every emotion in him stored away behind lock and key while he sold his soul to the Black Dragons. It was easy to hurt people then and not think about what it meant. But Seishu can’t hide behind that anymore, not after watching Takemichi throw himself in front of a gun to save someone else.
He doesn’t know what will happen to Mikey and Draken now. Or any of the others, for that matter. How do you move on from something like this? There wasn’t only one life lost that day, there were three. Was there even anyone to hold a funeral for Izana or Kisaki? Would they be missed?
Seishu didn’t know Kisaki, but he’d known Izana. He remembers the boy who’d shown up at S.S. Motors with hair gelled high and eyes full of hope. He remembers being full of hope himself, joining Izana’s Black Dragons and becoming his right-hand man. He remembers Izana learning of Mikey, watching a certain darkness take over until there was nothing left but emptiness. He remembers riding the high of being useful, of being needed, until it landed him in juvie.
Seishu won’t grieve Izana, but he wonders if Shinichiro would have. Shinichiro, who treated Izana like a brother even though he knew he truly wasn’t. Seishu doesn’t know if someone even as loving and forgiving as Shinichiro could accept one of his siblings planning the murder of another.
A familiar voice interrupts his thoughts, and Seishu looks up to see Koko in a winter coat that looks too much like the Black Dragons’ and a black scarf wrapped snugly around his neck. He looks like himself, at least, nothing like the spectre in red that’s been tormenting Seishu in his dreams as of late. He rubs at his neck subconsciously.
He’s not asking Koko what he’s going to do, this time. If he did, the only words that could come after are an easy I’m goin’ with you, a tongue stuck out teasingly like it was simple, like there was never another choice. This time, he doesn’t need to prompt it. Koko tells him on his own.
Koko grabs his shoulder like he had at the pier, telling him he’d make sure nothing bad would happen to Seishu. Only this time, he’s not telling Seishu to come with him; he’s telling Seishu that this is where their roads diverge. It’s inevitable, really; Seishu probably would have even called Koko a coward if he backtracked and crawled back to his side after all that had happened in Yokohama.
In a way, he’s proud to see Koko going his own way. Seishu has never known a life without Koko, and everyone grows apart eventually. They’ll both be better off for it, probably. Being apart from someone who is a constant reminder of what he lost might be what saves Koko. Despite that, the way Koko tells him not to end up on the wrong path doesn’t settle right with him. Maybe it’s the trail of bad luck that’s been following everyone around lately, but it feels like an omen.
They stand on that bridge together, and when Seishu thanks him for the last several years, he means it. Seishu may have lost Koko to the poison of money, but at least he can be sure now that Koko knows the truth, that Akane is gone. He hopes it’s enough to save him.
-
When Toman disbands, Seishu lets go of the Black Dragons. Mikey saying he wants to end it while they’re at the top is an echo of the past, Shinichiro speaking those same words years ago when Seishu hadn’t really known what he meant. It was just an end to a generation back then; other members had picked up the mantle and continued Black Dragon’s name in Shinichiro’s place. This feels more like a finale, the curtains closing after the final act of tragedy and victory, and it’s bittersweet.
Seishu hadn’t worn the uniform for long, but it’s still a part of his life that he values. It’s the part of him that shows he could change and not drive himself into the ground with his stubbornness. When he thinks about it, it wasn’t that hard at all to give up his old uniform. Looking at Toman’s members, stunned and anxiously chattering, Seishu knows it won’t be so easy for them.
By the time Mikey has thanked each of his captains, most of the people around Seishu are crying. Again and again, he’s surrounded by emotions and history he has no right to witness. A lot of the members split off after that, either huddling in their own groups or leaving the shrine entirely. Mikey, Draken, and the other captains and vice-captains stick around.
Seishu thinks about leaving, but sticks near the shrine gate instead. It might be a good time to talk to Hanagaki or Mikey about the Black Dragons, or apologize to Mitsuya and Hakkai properly since Seishu probably won’t have a good reason to see any of them anymore.
But he stays where he is, kicking at rocks in the dirt. None of these people owe him anything, and Seishu’s only debt is really to Hanagaki. Even then, what could he do in return? What Hanagaki did for the Black Dragons is too much to make up for with any simple gesture.
“Inupi? You’re still here?”
Seishu looks up, surprised. How does someone as large in both stature and presence as Draken always manage to sneak up on him?
“Uh… yeah. Couldn’t bring myself to leave just yet, I guess.”
Draken exhales softly. “Yeah, I get that.”
“I didn’t think you’d be okay with disbanding Toman,” Seishu says, glancing at Draken sidelong.
“Mm.” It’s not much of a response, and there’s a tightness around Draken’s eyes that suggests his feelings might not be so simple. Draken had seemed confident and proud, declaring his agreement in front of everyone and bowing his head low to Mikey. But even then, the decision seemed to be Mikey’s alone; no one else knew it was coming.
“Maybe it’s a good time to move on…” Seishu ventures, though he has no idea what he’ll do from here on out. He doesn’t particularly care about school, but he might need to pick up a part time job.
“Move on from Toman,” Draken repeats, then laughs while shaking his head. “Feels like we just got started.”
Seishu watches him, hesitant to speak up. It doesn’t feel like Draken is talking to him.
“Never thought things would end up this way a few years ago.” There are a lot of different things that could mean. Seishu feels the same way.
Draken lifts his head, stretching his arms behind him and cracking his neck. “What am I saying?” he murmurs. Louder, he says, “We made it to the top and made it our era. We did exactly what we set out to do.” He sounds like he’s trying to convince himself of it.
Turning toward Seishu, Draken puts on a smile. “Guess this is it. Didn’t know you for long, but stay out of trouble, okay?”
Seishu wishes people would stop telling him that. “What are you going to do?”
Draken purses his lips, gaze unfocusing for a second. When his eyes clear, all he says is, “I’ll figure it out.”
-
Seishu doesn’t know what to do with his life, but for now, he can start by clearing out his and Koko’s hideout. They won’t be needing it anymore, and the place is just a reminder of days past that he can’t get back.
He’d practically lived here for years, surviving off Black Dragon’s money to spare his parents the burden. The money Koko made for Akane’s treatment went towards their home loans instead, because Seishu didn’t know how to refuse it. He knew it made Koko feel at least a little bit better, able to help his family if not Akane herself. It was only a stop-gap; Seishu’s family had still been in debt, but the monthly payments Koko sent were enough to keep them afloat. They’re better off now, enough that they can afford Seishu living under their roof again.
In truth, the hideout was mostly barren, never meant to be a place to live. One corner of the building is cluttered with their things; a ratty, stained couch; a small TV whose antennae they could never manage to position properly; Seishu’s old baseball bat riddled with holes and nails; a guitar Koko had impulsively bought as a hobby and given up just as fast; supply closets covered in a random assortment of photos, coupons, and takeout menus.
Something bitter crawls up Seishu’s throat when he pulls a spare Black Dragon uniform out from a closet. Too small for his own frame, it must be Koko’s. He’d never come back for it after getting drawn into Tenjiku’s ranks, even though he’s had plenty of opportunity. Tenjiku’s executives had all been arrested, the gang disintegrating as quickly as it had formed, so Seishu isn’t sure what Koko plans to do. He’ll probably sniff out the next most lucrative opportunity and sell himself to it, just like always.
The thought is resentful, but as he carefully folds the uniform into an even square, Seishu can’t bring himself to feel bad about it. How was it fair to tell Seishu to stay on the right path when Koko always willingly and blindly drives himself onto the wrong ones?
His fingers dig into the stiff white material, brow tense. He shouldn’t be thinking about Koko’s actions as wrong or right; Seishu has nothing to do with him anymore. Tiredly, he places the uniform into a box, promptly covering it up with some of the blankets they’d kept around to shield them from the unforgiving concrete floor.
Turning back to the closet, he comes face to face with the photos held up to the door with tape and magnets. There’s no rhyme or reason to them, just a collection of Polaroids and photo prints from over the years, some featuring Seishu or Koko, mostly of random animals or motorcycles. A disposable camera lays on the floor to the side, waiting to have its film developed.
One photo in particular stands out: Seishu standing with his dream bike, a Yamaha RZ350, sparkling white and emblazoned with the sharp black curves of Black Dragon’s emblem. He’s younger in it, hair long and shaggy, gang uniform wrinkled, and his face is all youthful joy. A small smile tugs at Seishu’s lips when his eyes drift over to Koko in the photo, staring wide-eyed at the bike and looking like the nerd he used to be in his prim school uniform and smart haircut.
He doesn’t remember who took the photo anymore, but the memory of scraping parts together with his meager savings and splurging on the paint job is clear as day. Seishu takes the photo into his hands, brushing a thumb over the glossy surface.
Koko never learned how to drive—something about bad eyesight—always riding pillion on Seishu’s bike instead. He hadn’t minded, really, had been happy to be needed. Now, he’s not even sure what to do with the bike. Seishu doesn’t want to get rid of it, but it doesn’t feel right to ride it either. Maybe he can store it here for safekeeping; it doesn’t seem like anyone else has ever tried to get into the abandoned shop, aside from when Tenjiku kidnapped him.
And of course he speaks too soon, because just then, the door rattles for a few long seconds and swings open. Seishu startles at the sound, too caught off guard to stand up or grab a weapon. Luckily, he’s probably not in any danger, because it’s just Draken who walks through the door.
When he catches sight of Seishu sitting cross-legged on the floor, Draken stops in his tracks, blinking at him in surprise. Seishu blinks right back.
“You have a key?” Seishu says, stupidly.
Draken shifts his eyes to the side. “I picked the lock.”
That makes sense. “What are you doing here?” he asks, but it feels wrong, like Seishu’s implying it’s only himself who has rights to this forgotten place.
“I, uh, wanted to scope it out.” Draken scratches the back of his neck, oddly self-conscious. “I was thinking of cleaning it up and re-opening it instead of letting it sit around to get trashed.”
Seishu blinks some more. “The bike shop?”
Draken nods. “Other than Toman… this is what I knew best. Mikey and I spent years gathering parts to go with a spare engine Shinichiro-kun found. We built that CB250T from the ground up. Thought it would be nice to do something like that again.”
That… does sound nice. Seishu never thought of this place getting back on its feet. The spirit of the delinquent community splintered after Shinichiro died, no longer having one central place to meet up. No beacon to tie them all together. Things are so different now, more serious than they were years ago, but if the bike shop came back, maybe it could be something like an oasis for the ones who had no other way to stay afloat.
The way Seishu’s sitting with Draken looking at him from above reminds Seishu of the day they met. Back then, Draken told him about Mikey’s dream. Now he’s here showing Seishu his own self, his own dream, and just like when they were kids Seishu has nothing to give back, still lost.
“Is this… your stuff?”
Seishu suddenly heats up at the realization, of being seen sitting in the paltry remains of his old life, of memories he’d never shared with anyone but Koko. The photos are too much, suddenly, and in a different way, so is the metal pipe still lying bloodstained on the cold floor.
Draken eyes everything evenly, assessing, the same way he’s always looked at Seishu. Seishu realizes, belatedly, that he had in fact brought Hanagaki here, albeit when he was beaten up and too despairing to really think about it. Somehow, he feels more exposed this time.
He quickly tucks the photo of him and Koko into the box, though the others still hanging up are a lost cause in plain sight. “Mm, yeah,” Seishu says, embarrassed, off-kilter, things he only feels under Draken’s scrutiny. “Was my hideout for the last few years. Mine and Koko’s.”
“Oh,” Draken says, piecing together Seishu’s words with the scene around him. He’s hesitant, eyes flickering around uncertainly now that he’s faced with the fact that the shop isn’t as abandoned as he’d thought.
“Don’t worry,” Seishu says, pulling down the rest of the photos and odd trinkets, tossing them into the box like they don’t matter. “I was clearing it out, don’t really need it now that I’m not in a gang. Reopening S.S. Motors is a great idea.”
Distantly, he wonders why it’s not Mikey suggesting it, carrying on the shop for his brother. Draken had said Mikey had built the bike with him; if anything, those two should be doing this together. Maybe it’s something in the same vein as why Mikey had never led the Black Dragons. Like Mikey was distancing himself from everything that ever carried Shinichiro’s name on it.
He doesn’t ask, though, because it’s not his place.
“But—” Draken starts, and then stops, chewing on his thoughts. “You like bikes too. You liked Shinichiro-kun too. Fuck, you’ve lived here for years. I can’t just—”
Draken sighs, running a hand down his face, tired. He sits down, folding his long legs under him, and looks back at Seishu with a tense smile. “I don’t really know what I’m doing. Do you wanna join me?”
He looks young, unsure, and now that Seishu’s really looking at him, he notices how different Draken seems without Mikey’s steady presence next to him. Thinking back on it, there weren’t many times at all that he’d seen Draken without him.
Is Draken actually just as lost as Seishu? Did they both find themselves here because it was the only sure thing they had left?
“What do you mean, join you?”
“Help me reopen Shinichiro-kun’s shop,” Draken looks at him seriously, brows pinched, but falters. “I mean, if you didn’t have anything else planned—”
“I don’t,” Seishu interrupts. It’s an invitation, something he doesn’t often get the opportunity to have, and life has shown him time after time that he’s no good on his own. Seishu is tired of following people, tired of being followed, but this isn’t like that. This is them as equals, as partners. “I’ll do it.”
Draken’s eyes widen, and then he laughs. “You sound like you’re going off to war. I don’t even know what it’ll take, probably a lot of time and money, but if you’re up for it…”
Seishu nods, not quite desperately, but nearing it. It’s like he suddenly can’t imagine doing anything else. Finally, this can be how he gives back.
“Well, great,” Draken smiles, a sigh of relief escaping him. “I don’t think I wanna call it S.S. Motors, though.”
“Huh? Why not?”
“Not because I want to erase Shinichiro-kun from it or anything. I just thought, maybe we could make it our own, a little bit.”
That does sound nice. “So what do you suggest?”
“How about…” Draken starts, drawing the word out and looking to the ceiling for inspiration. He grins and turns back to Seishu. “D&D Motors.”
Seishu raises an eyebrow. “Draken and…?”
Draken shakes his head. “Dragon,” he clarifies, pointing to his tattoo, “and Dog.”
“Wh—” Seishu splutters, slightly offended, before Draken puts a hand up and his body curls into a loud laugh, eyes glittering.
“Because Inu-i. Right?”
Draken goes right back to laughing, not at Seishu, just good-naturedly, and Seishu finds himself joining him. It is funny, and it’s a name that includes them both. He can practically see the signage, new and shiny, covering up the old faded paint on the building’s front.
“Sure,” Seishu says, grinning. “D&D Motors. I like it.”
-
Things are good for a long time. The most normal Seishu’s life has ever been. Renovating and opening up the shop goes smoothly, plenty of friends with bikes to fix up to help them spread the word. It’s not a big business, not by any means, but it’s more than enough to keep him going. Seishu relishes in the feeling of cool metal under his palms and grease beneath his fingernails. It’s a different type of dirty than blood and grit, and the change is welcome.
These days, Draken calls him Inupi, a lost nickname that he expects to hate hearing, but is pleasantly surprised when the sound sinks right into his skin like a homecoming. Draken is still Draken, but sometimes he’s Ken, when the shop is quiet and it’s only the two of them and Seishu decides not to pretend.
Not to pretend like Draken doesn’t mean anything to him, that he hadn’t given Seishu a ledge to hang onto when he’d been all but ready to give up on trying to change. Not to pretend like he wishes it was anyone else with him, because he can’t at all imagine Koko sitting there on the dusty ground with him, dirtying his hands of his own volition.
Seishu hadn’t moved back in with his parents, after all. Draken had told him there was an apartment above the shop—one Seishu hadn’t known about because Shinichiro had lived at his family’s dojo—that the rent was cheap and it was convenient with no commute, and that had been the end of it.
He’s never had a roommate in such a formal sense, and it takes getting used to. None of the effort is in balancing their habits or dealing with conflicts day after day; no, in that sense, their lives blend together like watercolor. The adjustment is in sharing this space, sharing his life with another person and no longer having to wonder when their deal ends.
Is this enough to call himself a real person? Not just a tool, resigned to inflicting and receiving pain just to make it to the next day? Seishu hopes so. He hadn’t been in Toman long enough for it to matter, but the old members treat him like a longtime friend regardless. Even Mitsuya, whose skull Seishu had been all but ready to bash in on a now distant winter’s day.
Chifuyu especially seems to reach out to Seishu more than the others. Seishu would say it had to do with the bond between the first division, but he’s not that naive.
Hanagaki has been acting strange recently. Maybe it’s because Toman is long gone, but Seishu thought Hanagaki had been close enough to them to keep spending time together. Instead, Hanagaki has stopped showing up when Chifuyu invites them out with other first division members. He doesn’t even really seem concerned that Mikey has gone off the radar. He’d just dropped his bike off at D&D Motors one day, the CB250T Draken and Mikey had built for him, and told them to take care of it with a casual salute.
It’s an unspoken issue among Toman, just like Mikey’s disappearance. Like so many other things, it’s not in Seishu’s jurisdiction to bring it up, but Hanagaki still goes to the same high school as Chifuyu, and it’s not hard to spot the tense lines in Chifuyu’s face at the end of each day that he tries to smooth away when he sees the rest of them.
Seishu can’t fix everything, but he’s learning how to be there for people, to rely on others and be relied on. There’s a lot he learns from Draken, how it comes naturally to him to take care of the others. It’s a common sight to come into work and find the others already there, maybe poking fun at Draken for endlessly fussing over his Zephyr, maybe Hakkai draping his long limbs over the closest counter and whining at Mitsuya, maybe Pah-chin and Peh-yan arguing over something neither of them are right about.
Every day is different, and it surprises Seishu how much his old life was a rehash of the same, days and weeks and months and years all blending together into a time that Seishu must have just drifted through, angry and despondent, to end up here.
And then one day, Wakasa shows up, long yellow and purple hair so different from the shaggy, snow leopard white Seishu remembers him with. He seems tamer now, but no less sure of himself, an aura about him that still stuns Seishu into awed respect.
It was something all of the original Black Dragons had in them, something so like Shinichiro yet so their own at the same time. Seeing him gives Seishu a rush of nostalgia so strong he has to sit down.
Wakasa says he heard about the shop reopening from Benkei, who’d heard it from someone else, and there’s a puff of pride that goes through Seishu to know their name is spreading back to the very people who inspired him.
When Draken comes out from the workshop they’d built into the garage, Seishu watches a flash of recognition go through his eyes. He and Wakasa greet each other like long lost brothers, hearty claps on the back and loud laughs, and if it weren’t for Draken’s nicely braided hair, Seishu’s sure Wakasa would have ruffled it.
It’s a breath of fresh air to dip into the past like this, to listen to Wakasa like Seishu had always loved listening to his senpais’ stories, leaning against his favorite spot along the shuttered wall. Wakasa’s eyes catch on the things they changed, the things they kept the same, and the approving glint in his eye gives Seishu the hope that Shinichiro would like it too.
If Seishu could, he’d bottle this moment in a glass jar and keep it close to his heart, because this is when things change. A peaceful life can never last for long.
Wakasa hadn’t just come here for old time’s sake, to reminisce over a cold soda and pass time without a care in the world. No, what Wakasa brings with him is news of a brimming war, of three factions dividing the region and the imminent clash for power they’ll cause.
What he brings with him is the name Manjiro sitting tense on his tongue and leaving Draken frozen solid beside him, world brought to a halt in an instant.
Kanto Manji Gang, they’re called, Mikey’s gang, and Seishu remembers Draken, younger and suddenly unchained, telling him how they’d only just gotten started before it all came to an end.
But it wasn’t an end for Mikey.
Wakasa mentions Brahman, Rokuhara Tandai after that, and Seishu tries his best to follow along but it’s hard when he hears Draken’s tight breaths and sees his clenched fists out of the corner of his eye. It’s hard, it must be, to lose your best friend for two years and find him changed, no longer what you thought he was.
Seishu pushes away thoughts of Koko with a firm hand.
They’re thinking the same thing, probably, why Mikey would bother disbanding Toman if he was going to make a new gang, but Seishu doesn’t get long to observe Draken’s expression before he excuses himself to the back. Wakasa winces in sympathy but doesn’t call out to him, just folds his hands in his lap and looks at Seishu with an apologetic smile.
Seishu wants to get up and go check on Draken, but he owes it to him to listen to the rest of the story, the era of Three Deities and the goal to defeat Mikey. Is something like that even possible anymore?
Wakasa says he wants Draken to join Brahman, or more accurately, Akashi—who Seishu remembers less fondly than Wakasa, if he’s being honest—wants Draken to bring back Mikey. Seishu stomps down his instinctive reaction, his urge to reject the offer on Draken’s behalf because even if he knew and respected the original Black Dragons, there’s no need for Draken to get involved with a gang of adults. He’s left all that behind, it isn’t fair to bring him back in.
But this is a matter of Mikey, Draken’s commander and best friend, and Seishu gets the bad feeling he knows where this is going.
He’s proved right when later in the week, Draken sits him down in their shared living room and tells him he’s joining Brahman.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Seishu says, staring at him.
Draken frowns, anger turning his eyebrows mean. “What’s your problem?”
“Didn’t Mikey leave to keep you safe? And the rest of Toman? Are you just going to throw that away?” Seishu wrings his hands in the hem of his shirt to keep them by his sides.
“You think I can just accept that he’s off on his own getting into who knows what kind of trouble, while the rest of us are living white picket lives?”
Seishu’s lip curls. “I doubt he’s on his own.” With Mikey’s charisma, with his intimidation, it probably wasn’t hard to amass a following larger than Toman ever was. If Kanto Manji Gang is considered one of the Three Deities, they won’t be some kiddy gang.
Draken stands up and looks down at him, using his full height for its intended purpose: intimidation. “I don’t care. Akashi and the others are legends, there’s no better chance than to use them to get Mikey back.”
“You’re underestimating him.” Seishu stands up too, unwilling to let Draken talk down to him like this. Like he hasn’t lost people too. “Who says he even wants to come back?”
Something cracks in Draken’s expression, and Seishu can see the way he keeps himself from lunging. Seishu almost wishes he would. It’s been two years since he’s had a real fight.
“It’s none of your business, anyway.” Draken turns away from him, collecting his jacket and heading for the stairs to the door.
Don’t walk away from me, Inupi wants to say, wants to hold Draken back and keep him from going where Seishu can’t reach him.
But he doesn’t move. He just watches as Draken follows an uncertain path with a hopeless end and Seishu can’t do a thing about it.
-
Draken is unconscious in the hospital for three days and three nights, a bullet wound in his side and his face pummeled into something unrecognizable. Seishu stays by his side for every hour he’s allowed, hands curled so tightly he thinks they might stay that way forever, nails digging white crescents into the skin.
Brahman had lost, and it wasn’t just Draken who was in such a sorry state. Seishu had ducked his head and hid his eyes from the other Brahman members who had passed through over the days, bruised and bloody. Their leader, Akashi’s younger sister, had died in the conflict. Seishu had only seen Akashi in the hospital once, the day of the fight, pale and ghostlike and so quiet Seishu might not have noticed him had he not been sitting hopelessly outside Draken’s operating room with nothing else to do but observe.
Draken isn’t a loud person by nature, but his presence isn’t one that can be ignored. The silence in his room is nearly deafening, but the noise of all of the machines is almost worse. Antiseptic, steady beeping, and a phantom itch under his skin. Over and over, those memories he can’t shake, the drone of a flatline and the rustle of paper bills.
When Draken finally wakes up, voice rough and eyes hazy, Seishu takes his first breath in days. A successful surgery meant nothing; Draken’s condition could have taken a turn for the worst at any moment during his coma. His wakefulness lays at least some of Seishu’s built up anxiety to rest.
“Thank god,” he breathes, instantly reaching for Draken’s hand without thinking about it, about how he might be crossing a line, being too familiar even though they live together because part of this all still feels temporary to Seishu.
“Inupi…” Draken’s breath rattles, and his dark eyes turn to Seishu with effort, a tiny smile that seems more like a grimace lifting up the corner of his mouth under the respirator. “I survived, huh?”
Seishu bites down on his lip, frustrated at Draken’s casual tone, upset at the whole situation. He expected something like this to happen, and what did he do? He just scolded Draken and let him go off on his own. Nothing like the kind of partner Draken deserves, Seishu sits there unharmed and feels the sick crawl of survivor’s guilt for the second time in his life.
“Who did this to you?” he asks, fingers digging into his own thighs.
“...Who else? Mikey.” Draken pauses, laughs weakly. “Not the gun, just my face,” like that makes it any better.
Seishu laughs too, bitter and tired and forced out of his throat. Mortifyingly, hot tears spring up to sting at his eyes. “So, what now?”
It’s an unfair question, he knows. But isn’t this whole situation unfair? It’s past the point of no return; Draken may have escaped with his life but Akashi’s sister met the end of hers by Mikey’s hand. Even Draken can’t keep chasing after a murderer, can he?
Seishu thinks Draken won’t respond, maybe didn’t even hear him. Then, quietly breaking the silence, “I’ll figure it out.”
It makes Seishu laugh again, more bitter, more tired. “You said that before. When Toman ended.” He shakes his head. “And we did figure it out. We were onto something good, Draken.”
Seishu can’t see himself chasing after Koko’s back like this. Maybe it helps that he doesn’t even know where Koko is, but he’s better off for it if Draken’s current state tells him anything.
Draken sniffs, and Seishu keeps his eyes down because he never wants to see him cry again. “This isn’t Mikey.”
Deep down, Seishu thinks maybe it is, but he won’t say so. “I know,” he whispers instead, squeezing the hand he’s still holding.
“I guess it was stupid of me,” Draken laughs, and Seishu wishes he would stop with that already. Self-pity doesn’t suit him. “Thought I could knock some sense into his head like I used to be able to. We’d fight so much, you know? About stupid, meaningless shit that didn’t really matter.”
Draken sniffs again, a wet sound and a waver to his voice when he continues. “We’d just shove each other and yell at each other for a while and then we’d get distracted by food or something and we’d forget about it. Everything was… so simple.”
A tear rolls down the side of Draken’s face, and Seishu bites down on his lip hard as he watches it. He can’t help but wonder that if Hanagaki had been there, to throw himself in the line of fire and use words to pull at people’s hearts like he had such a gift for doing, would things have turned out better?
“It wasn’t stupid,” Seishu murmurs, squeezing Draken’s hand. “I think… anyone would have done what you did if they thought they had the chance to save someone they loved.”
Draken closes his eyes tight and a few more tears fall, his chest rising and falling in a stuttering rhythm as he tries to get his breathing under control. Seishu looks away again to give him some privacy, and stays quiet until he feels Draken pull his hand away. Seishu glances up to see wet streaks shimmering on Draken’s face, and ignores the heat in his own cheeks to wipe them away with his thumbs. He feels Draken shiver when he next inhales.
“Kokonoi was there,” Draken says suddenly. “With Mikey. I…” He trails off, looking away from Seishu uncomfortably. “Thought you should know.”
Ah. Well… Seishu supposes that makes sense. Mikey’s gang certainly seems influential enough to be a large source of income. He thinks on it, rolls the idea around in his mind, and ultimately finds that he just doesn’t care all that much.
Two years isn’t long enough to forget about someone, but it’s long enough that Seishu no longer misses the presence by his side or the sound of his voice. He’s learned how to live a life without Koko, and he refuses to worry about him.
“Okay,” Seishu nods gently. “Thanks.”
“That’s it?” Draken asks, looking perplexed. “You’re gonna make me look even dumber for doing all this,” he huffs.
Seishu snorts, shaking his head. “Already told you, it’s not dumb.” He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair and staring down at his lap.
“We’re… good people, Ken.” He still feels a bit like he’s trying to convince himself, but compared to two years ago, Seishu can feel the difference in himself. He’s sure Draken can too. “We’ve suffered enough.”
Seishu bites his lip, waits for Draken to argue back that Mikey is good too, but he doesn’t. Draken is quiet, and Seishu only looks back at him when he hears a soft, “Yeah.”
Draken blows loose strands of hair out of his face. His hair is untied, pooled on the crisp white hospital pillow, and it makes him look delicate. “I’m tired,” he says. “I’m done with Brahman. With all of it.”
Seishu just barely keeps himself from callously blurting of course you are, Brahman died along with Senju. He shakes his head; Seishu really needs to get out of this hospital. “Do you,” Seishu starts, swallowing, “do you promise?” It’s childish, but he has to know. It’s selfish, after everything Draken has already given him, but…
“Yeah,” Draken replies, turning his head from the ceiling to look at Seishu with honest, dark eyes. “I promise. Let’s go home.”
-