Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Sakura takes a seat in a secluded corner of the club, assessing the room from his vantage point. Since the sun is still out, there are only a few people milling about, immersed in their own things.

But the passive atmosphere soon shatters when the lights suddenly start to dim down in a way that sets a sultry ambience in the room, and Sakura along with every guest in the club finds their attention stolen towards the center of the stage.

A group of eight girls stand in a complicated formation, each one of them still as stone. Their faces betray nothing but a blank look, a sharp contrast to their stylish clothing. After a few more seconds of silence, music begins to flow throughout the room, it’s airy notes somehow elevating the seductive aura that Sakura knows everyone present must be feeling.

In sync, the eight girls come alive, and what was once eight statues on stage transforms into eight bodies of pure, captivating movement. Hips shaking so fluidly it makes their bodies seem liquid, hands never once stopping in an attempt to grab an invisible beat in the air, eyes so fierce Sakura’s body automatically tenses for a fight.

Least to say, Sakura is entranced.

“They’re good, right?” A voice whispers next to his ear, and Sakura uses all his willpower not to flinch out of his goddamn seat. He turns his head slightly and locks eyes with long lashes and smiling red lips.

“More than good,” Sakura replies gruffly, much to Tsubaki’s delight. They give him a tight hug, which he reciprocates eventually with furrowed brows and flushed cheeks. Just before they separate, their hand ghosts the upper sleeve of Sakura’s jacket; three rings.

“The new jacket suits you so well,” they tell him, voice a bit shaky. Sakura says nothing except dragging a chair out for them with a red face, politely looking away as Tsubaki takes their seat and delicately wipes their eyes.

A manicured hand slides him a drink, and a soft silence settles around them as they continue watching the girls on stage. Once their performance comes to a close, Tsubaki waves the girls over with an excited cheer, Sakura beside them clapping along with the rest of the audience.

The girls descend towards them like hawks on a fresh carcass, and Sakura soon finds himself in the middle of a group death hug, Tsubaki holding them all together like a particularly clingy octopus.

When the girls all start settling in their seats, Sakura studies the warm look in Tsubaki’s eyes when they stare around the table, and finally brings himself to ask quietly, “Do they have something to do with the favor you wanted?”

A somber silence permeates the air around the two of them, and just when Tsubaki opens their lips to answer-

The door of the club slams open, shocking all the occupants in the room. Nakamura runs inside, a piece of paper crumpled in his shaking fist. He heads straight to their table, and Sakura notices both Tsubaki and one of the girls from the group freeze simultaneously.

“Those bastards,” Nakamura curses, sparing Sakura a quick hair ruffle in greeting, to which he slaps away with a grumble. “Another one just came, along with-” He catches sight of the girl who froze, all soft blonde hair and big blue eyes, and stops. There is a tangible weight in the air when the girl finally decides to speak up.

“Along with what?” The blonde demands, her voice firm but her eyes betraying her fear.

Nakamura looks conflicted on answering, but he eventually breaks. “Along with the beaten body of one of my men.”

“Fuck!” The blonde yells out, slamming her fist on the table. She starts crying then, and the cheery mood is gone so quick it felt like it was never here. The blonde grabs at the crumpled paper with desperation, to which Nakamura hands it to her gently, and the longer she continues reading to what Sakura assumes is a letter, the paler her face becomes.

She suddenly stands up and hands the letter to Tsubaki with teary eyes. She takes one last glance at Sakura and turns back to them in defeat.

“I don’t know why the leader of Bofurin is here, sitting at our club, but I know you’re the one who called him here. I wish I was strong enough to solve this on my own, but I’m not, and this might be really selfish but please-” She bows to both Sakura and Tsubaki, a steady stream of teardrops falling to the floor. “Please help me. I don’t want anyone here in the club getting hurt anymore because of me so please-!”

Tsubaki grabs onto the blond and drags her into a fierce embrace, their usually upturned ruby lips now set in a pained grimace. “You don’t have to beg for help, you silly girl. Just ask and I’ll always answer.” They run a hand through the girl’s long locks, and slowly pushes them away by the shoulders. “Now go fix yourself in the changing room first, kay? I need to talk something private with this cute guy over here.”

The girl nods, still crying, and gives them a quick kiss on the cheek before excusing herself with the rest of the girls to the changing rooms, leaving Sakura with the grim stares of Tsubaki and Nakamura.  

“Sorry kid,” Nakamura sighs, roughly pinching the bridge of his nose. “I wish this was a friendly call, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag.”

“What’s the deal with this letter?” Sakura asks as Tsubaki passes him the piece of paper.

“It all started last month, when Fumi-chan started receiving these disgusting letters after her and her group started performing. It was gross from the start, but it started getting worse. Started threatening her and the other girls if Fumi-chan doesn’t give herself up to them.” Tsubaki explains, rage evident in their tone as they spits out the last part. “No way in hell am I letting Fumi-chan go anywhere near those guys.”

“They finally sent us a declaration of war,” Nakamura continues, head tilted at the letter in Sakura’s hands.

He looks down at this thin piece of paper that suddenly feels heavier than before, and starts to finally read it, “Roppo-Ichiza, we warned you too many times to count, and yet you idiots don’t listen. Our Boss is tired of waiting, so we’re handing you an ultimatum; either hand over the blonde by tomorrow afternoon at the entrance of the Red-light district, or we attack the club. And don’t bother bringing extra men, we got every single one of your faces memorized. If we see a single Roppo-Ichiza fucker near the meeting point, all bets are off.”

“What the fuck is this?” Sakura crumples the paper further in his hands, disgust running rampant in his body. “Some weak-ass gang thinks they can take down anyone doing shit like this? Pathetic.”

“My men noticed that more guys in these green jackets have been appearing near the club, and I have a feeling they know we’ll never hand over Fumi to them, so they’re using that as a reason to attack.” Nakamura says. “Roppo-Ichiza’s ready to fight these guys off of course, but…”

“But what?” Sakura plays with the corner of the paper, lips jutted out in a scowl. “If you need more manpower, just spit it out.”

Nakamura laughs, the sound calming all the guests in the room to snap back into their previous moods. “You never change, Sakura. Thanks for offering help to Roppo-Ichiza again, but the manpower isn’t for what you think it is.”

Noticing Sakura’s confused glare, Tsubaki pipes up with an uncomfortable look on their face. “Before I tell you my plan, I know this doesn’t involve Furin at all, and this is way out of your jurisdiction, so don’t feel pressured to agree.” Their face tightens, and Sakura finally notices the toll the past month has had on his senior. “I just hate that we aren’t enough to protect Fumi-chan’s freedom to dance on stage, and we also gotta drag you kids into this to boot.”

Tsubaki’s face twists into something gut-wrenching, before saying, “Sorry you have to see such a lame side of this senior, Sakura.”

There’s a moment of silence where Sakura thinks of what to say, before simply repeating the words he heard a few minutes ago, “Just ask and I’ll always answer, right? That’s what you said to the girl. How about listening to your own words for once?” Tsubaki’s eyes widen, looking glossy and red. “And you’re Furin, so that makes this a Furin matter. What, you think you’re too good for Furin or something cuz you already graduated and everything?”

“And quit it with whatever weird thoughts you got going on,” Sakura huffs, a finger lightly scratching a burning cheek. “Protecting the dreams of someone who can’t do it themselves is pretty damn cool to me-”

He abruptly cuts off his words when Tsubaki starts crying, these quiet huffs of thick breath, and yet their cheery smile is back, brighter than before despite the tears and Nakamura’s panic in hunting down a tissue box.

“Maybe it’s because I haven’t seen you awhile, but I always forget how good you are, Sakura. Never stop surprising me.” They laugh at Sakura’s red face while accepting a tissue from Nakamura.

“It’s been awhile since I visited Furin! After this whole thing’s sorted, let’s go grab a meal at Kotoha-chan’s.” They have this hazy, nostalgic look in their eyes that makes Sakura’s heart clench uncomfortably, and he realizes with a start that he’s missed them.

“Whatever,” Sakura grumbles out, subtly pushing the box of tissues closer to Tsubaki, an act caught by both occupants of the table as they share an indulgent smile between them. “You don’t need an excuse to visit. Should’ve come earlier; you made both siblings sad like some weird deadbeat who disappeared to god knows where.”

At his words, a lovely flush overtakes the apples of Tsubaki’s cheeks and that hazy look in their eyes starts to clear. “Oh, enough with the guilt-tripping and just admit you missed me, you bratty junior.” Just as he’s about to open his mouth to defend himself, Tsubaki places a finger on his lips and winks slyly. “Now hurry up and listen to my plan so we can be off to Furin by tomorrow afternoon!”

Sakura stares expectantly at them, waiting for Tsubaki to reveal their plan for some ass-kicking espionage, and yet all they do is repeatedly open and close their mouths with an embarrassed expression. “Gee, it sounded pretty smart when I thought about it, but now it feels so silly to say aloud for some reason!”

They grab a handful of dyed hair to cover their red face, before shooting a glare at Nakamura. “You! Go somewhere else, you’re making me feel even more nervous! Check on Fumi-chan for me and feed her some fried dumplings or something.”

Nakamura’s hurried nod and immediate scurrying to the kitchens tells Sakura he already has an inkling of what Tsubaki’s plan is. Sakura subtly adjusts his collar and wonders why his back suddenly feels damp with cold sweat.

“My plan makes a very loud statement, if you get the drift.” Sakura encourages them to go on with inquisitive eyes, which they do, slowly gaining more confidence in their words. “Some might even say it causes a boom. I know it’s not to everyone’s taste, and it is pretty controversial to do in public, but I really think this might be the only way to finish those green bastards off! And once you get past how… flashy the whole thing is, I’m sure you can agree with me!”

There’s a clinking sound in Sakura’s brain, like an electrician fumbling to get a lightbulb in its right place, before a loud ding echoes in the recesses of his mind and light encases it in a blinding glow. He had no idea Tsubaki was cool like that.

“This plan,” Sakura whispers, looking left and right. “Does it involve… bombs?” At Tsubaki’s flabbergasted expression, he hurries to explain, “I mean, if it is, you don’t gotta be embarrassed cuz it looks awesome in those foreign films, but Suo just laughs at me and shuts it down whenever I try to bring it up during meetings and then Nirei starts crying and Sugishita calls me stupid even though he’s the one who failed math last month and. Yeah.”

He takes in a deep breath and lays his hands flat on the table, slightly trembling with excitement. “If it is bombs, I’m one hundred percent on board with it! I won’t laugh or, or cry or call you stupid or whatever.”

Faced with Sakura’s shining eyes, Tsubaki’s face continues to remain in that perpetual state of immense fear and confusion, as if they’re hearing him speak a different language. “I told you to keep surprising me, but I didn’t expect it to be this soon! I think that maybe we might be on different pages for once.” They proceed to let out a hysterical giggle, before continuing, “Um, I sense that you, ah, have very strong and positive feelings towards… bombs, which I will be happy to revisit with you later at a more contained and monitored setting with all your kings present, but that is… unfortunately, not my plan.”

Their eyes shift nervously to the side, trying to check if the table beside them heard the past five minutes of their conversation, before sighing in relief when they notice no horrified faces stare back at them. “Remind me to treat Suo to some tea when I meet him, kay? I just realized that maybe other people are also going through hard times right now.”

Sakura’s face ultimately settles into a petulant scowl of epic proportions that makes Tsubaki want to bite his cheek. How blessed are they to wind up with such an adorable junior.

“Well, maybe you should just change your plan to bombs then, because I can’t think of anything else that matches your wordy description.” Sakura huffs in disappointment, before a new light starts entering his eyes. “Unless… no, it can’t be- but!” Sakura turns to look at them with newfound stars in his eyes.

“Tsubaki, I didn’t know you were cool like that! Is your plan actually arso-”

A hand slaps on top of his mouth so fast Sakura nearly believes it teleported. He lifts his gaze to Tsubaki, who’s eyebrows are twitching so hard it seems like they’re about to fly away.

“Sakura, I love you like my own, but I swear you’re going to give me wrinkles by twenty.” They slowly remove their hand, eyeing up Sakura’s mouth like it’ll go and attack them or something. They have a fond expression on their face though, like there is nobody else they would rather be here with, slapping mouths and discussing some mild terrorism.

“See, now after you said all that, my plan doesn’t sound so crazy anymore!” Sakura’s about to open his mouth again, because maybe, surely, this time it has to be-

“The plan was crossdressing.” Tsubaki whispers to him, carefully studying his expression. “I was going to dress up one of the twins as Fumi-chan and have them play bait. Once those bastards bring them to their secondary location, which I’m assuming is their base, we bust them open like a new pair of shoes.”

Sakura’s pretty sure Tsubaki is trying to gauge something from him, but he really doesn’t know what they’re looking for. Do they want him to look impressed or something? Despite that, Sakura can feel his features twisting into what Suo calls ‘your face of constipated confusion’. He blinks.

“That’s it?” Sakura asks skeptically. “Where’s the boom and flashy stuff, or are you gonna slip a lighter up the skirt or something-?”

Tsubaki starts laughing then, bright peals of sound that turns the air around them warmer and more inviting. Sakura can’t even summon an ounce of annoyance even though he’s pretty sure they’re laughing at him.

“You know what? For you, I’ll think of something, but maybe another time. Right now, we have to start thinking of another way to track their base.”

Sakura feels his face frozen in that same constipated confusion. “You said ‘was’. Why aren’t we using your plan?”

Tsubaki stares at them incredulously. “I mean, based on that letter, they’re definitely on the lookout for me since I hang around here so much, and it’s a safe bet to think they know what the twins look like too. I can do many things with a lipstick and cute clothes, but magically changing someone’s face isn’t one of them.” They bring a hand to the back of their head, smiling bashfully. “And c’mon, there’s not much people who would like to look the way I do, you know?”

They look at Sakura expectantly, but there’s an air of defeat around them, like they keep getting their point proven against their will.

Unacceptable.

Sakura thinks of Fumi-chan, her tears still drying on the hardwood floor. He thinks of Nakamura, ready to defend his street despite knowing he’s being caged at all corners. Finally, he thinks of Tsubaki, with their sparkly skin and styled hair and pretty outfits.

He’s not stupid, barring whatever Suo tends to say about him and his country boy naivety. He knows that some people look down on stuff like this; their eyes take a single glance at Tsubaki and find them abhorrent.

Sakura just thinks they’re all jealous losers who can’t hold a candle to the sheer joy Tsubaki exudes simply by getting to live in their body. By simply existing and being able to love what they love; it makes them so beautiful it sometimes hurts to look at them.

If he could have even a fraction of that beauty, of that self-love that Tsubaki seems to wear like second skin, he thinks he would be a very lucky man indeed.

There’s an air of defeat around them, as if society has been and always will be hellbent on proving that the way Tsubaki loves is something no one else will ever find beautiful or desirable, and so Sakura makes a choice.

“You heard about my reputation, right?” Sakura mentions offhandedly, keeping his eyes firmly at the edge of the table. In front of him, Tsubaki makes no sound. “That no one outside of Furin knows what I look like except for my hair and eyes because I beat them up too fast. So, if you take away the hair and the eyes, then you got yourself a stranger who those green shits won’t recognize.”

Tsubaki is frozen in their seat, red lips clenched into a tight line as their eyes start to redden again. Slowly, as if he’s approaching a hurt animal, he takes Tsubaki’s shaking hand and holds it.

The shaking subsides, and Sakura lets a small smile climb onto his face.

“Nirei’s already starting to blow up my phone, so hurry up and tell me what I’m gonna do tomorrow.”

Tsubaki takes a deep breath, and says in a thick voice, “Meet me here three hours before scheduled meeting time. I’ll text you the details tonight.”

A tear rolls down their cheek, and many soon follow. “Around you, I just can’t seem to stop crying! Go home you silly junior, or else there’ll be nothing left of my makeup.”

Sakura hands them a tissue, already standing up. “And you’ll still look beautiful then.”

He gets ushered into the cold night of the Red-light district, armed with enough takeout to last him a week. Once he starts nearing the familiar streets he’s begun to call home, he swiftly opens his phone.

Sakura

We need to talk

Suo

Sakura-kun?

Nirei

Sakura-san! Have you made it home safely? How was the meeting with Tsubaki-san?

Sakura

…

Suo

Did it go terribly? Should I start rallying our troops? ^ - ^

Sakura

It’s a long story

Chapter Text

…

Sakura

And that’s why I need you both tomorrow at the Red-light district

Nirei

Poor Fumi-chan… we’ll definitely be there. You can count on us Sakura-san!

Suo

Like Nirei said, we’ll come. All we have to do is patrol the area in civilian clothing and avoid any individuals with green jackets, right?

Sakura

…yes

Suo

And your role is a messenger/bait who relays us the information about their base location, or am I wrong?

Sakura

Why are you asking obvious questions?

Nirei

Ah…

Suo

Haha do they sound obvious, Sakura-kun? Can you answer one last obvious question for me then? Please?

Sakura

Fine

Suo

I noticed you failed to mention what exactly your disguise will look like

Suo

Care to spare a few details so we both know who to expect tomorrow?

Sakura

No

Not even a second later, his phone starts ringing, sounding weirdly hysterical in the quiet of the night. Flashing on the screen is Suo’s name in bright, clear letters.

Suo

Pick up Sakura ^^

Out of pure spite, he forcefully drags his finger across the screen, declining the call. He doesn’t even have time to regret it before his phone starts ringing again, this time with Nirei’s name displayed on screen.

Nirei

Sakura-san… please listen to Suo-san and pick up!

Safe to say, Sakura is completely stumped. By the time he resurfaces from his thoughts of why the hell are they freaking out about this, Sakura realizes with rising dread that the air around him is completely silent, the lack of ringing sounding louder than the ringing itself.

Trying to swallow down his guilt, he opens his phone, only to be faced with two messages.

Suo

Take your time, Sakura-kun. Call us when you’re ready.

Nirei

We’ll wait!

For some godforsaken reason, he feels heat rush up to his cheeks and all the way to the tip of his nose. Gah, he doesn’t know what witchcraft these two had casted, but he suddenly feels like a steak being smacked around by Kotoha’s unforgiving fork.

He feels oddly… tender.

Right when his finger is about to press the call button, two more message quickly send in, as if sensing the sudden change in Sakura’s mood.

Suo

A video call is preferable, Sakura-kun.

Nirei

We just want to check up on you! We’re worried…

A vein at the side of Sakura’s neck starts throbbing from sheer rage. Suddenly, he feels like the rubbery beef that Kotoha always complains about when they’ve stayed in the freezer for too long.

Since when did these two learn their stupid bad-cop-good-cop routine, huh? With gritted teeth and a promise for more sparring drills, his finger changes trajectory and smashes into the group video call option.

Halfway into its first ring, two faces appear and immediately start to stare at him intently, like Sakura’s some weird specimen they need to study at all costs. Abruptly defensive, he purses his lips and glowers at them throughout the remainder of their weird silent staring contest.

“You done yet?” Sakura barks out, tone grumpy and short. There’s no reply for a while, until Nirei finally leans away from the screen and lets out a sigh of relief. After a few more seconds, Suo’s eye softens and he too moves from his original spot to a more normal distance.

“Sorry about the sudden calls, Sakura-san.” Nirei says, eyes wide and guilty. Somehow, even the shitty speaker in his phone manages to get across that whiny, sad tone the blonde uses when he’s feeling unbearably bad about something. “Just, I was really scared it was a code April again!”

Suo’s silent in his part of the screen, face blank and impassive.

Ah.

Around mid-April of this year, there was a conflict with an encroaching gang that ultimately led to Sakura getting hospitalized for three days straight. The reason? Sakura looking all of his classmates in the eye and refusing to tell them a very crucial piece of information, stating that ‘it wasn’t important’.

To this day, there will always be a part of Sakura that regrets not telling them from the start, that curses himself for thinking that he could handle it without any help from his class, because the fallout was something he never wants repeated.

For the three days that Sakura remained bedbound, not a single person spoke more than a word to him. And no, it wasn’t some sort of fucked up silent treatment that they all agreed to doing just to punish Sakura; it was more like the opposite.

While no one would talk to him first, the moment Sakura called out to them, they would answer in a heartbeat, but the look in their eyes would keep Sakura from saying anything else, tongue feeling like lead in his mouth.

There’s a saying that the eyes are the window to the soul, and everyone’s eyes during those three days reflected absolute heartbreak.

Sakura recalled the tidal wave of guilt that would drown him whenever he managed to catch someone’s eyes, thinking that this was it. This was the moment he lost the trust of all the people he cherished the most.

The final breaking point was on the last night before he was officially discharged from the hospital. Sakura was sitting up silently on the thin medical bed, laid to rest on a carefully balanced mountain of soft pillows that Suo had set up.

The person in question was quietly peeling an apple beside his bed, sitting on the visitor’s chair that had been dragged and placed in that position since he was first admitted to this room.

Sakura can’t remember a time when that chair was empty, but he also can’t recall a time when there was anything other than this suffocating silence that seems to haunt the room.

A hand softly nudges his, a neatly sliced apple between Suo’s fingers, waiting to be taken and enjoyed. Sakura stares long and hard at this apple slice that had been so painstakingly peeled and cut with a shitty plastic knife, and thinks about the fact that despite all that care, Suo had not looked him in the eye since everyone had found Sakura bleeding out in that alleyway.

Another nudge, but Suo doesn’t lift his head from where it’s staring at the ground, and oh. Sakura’s suddenly scared he’s forgotten what Suo’s eye looks like because his vision is getting blurry and-

The next nudge is rougher, almost like a warning, and when Sakura still makes no move to take it, Suo finally whips his head towards him in annoyance, lone eye narrowed in anger but turning maybe wide when it catches sight of him.

Sakura hiccups out a small sob, feeling something wet slide down his face because he can’t, he really can’t tell if Suo’s eye widened or not because everything’s so fucking blurry now and the first time Suo has looked at him in seventy-two hours is hindered by the fact that he can’t see and now he’s never going to remember what Suo’s eye looks like because Suo is never going to look at him again-

Distantly, he hears a clatter of something plastic falling to the floor, and soon a calloused hand cups his cheek, thumb stroking away the tears in what feels like apology.

The touch is so careful in its action, so thoughtful and warm, just like that apple slice and Suo in general, but what does it matter? Suo’s still not going to look at him, because he broke Suo’s trust, and the thought of that reality makes Sakura so fucking upset he has to tightly press his lips together to contain the whine building in his throat.

He must not have been very successful, seeing as Suo lets out a wounded noise, his other hand rising to cup the back of Sakura’s neck.

It’s warm, warm, warm, and yet his chest feels frozen with an emotion that makes him want to throw up.

Through it all, tears continue to rise unbidden and drop down his cheeks, wetting the blanket over his lap. Suo tries to gently tilt his face towards him, but Sakura resists, focusing his gaze to the slowly darkening cloth of his blanket. He rather leaves his gaze down here than look up and see Suo turning away from him again.

Flashes of all the people in his childhood who turned their back on him play through his mind, and Sakura doesn’t want to face the fact that Suo might now be one of them. If he lets Suo turn his face, only to be met with a cold back, Sakura thinks he might actually die from a broken heart.

He distantly wonders if this is what everyone has been feeling for the past three days, and wishes stronger than ever that he just opened his damn mouth and told them the truth.

Realizing that Sakura isn’t going to move anytime soon, Suo stops trying to exert any pressure on his face, instead simply letting his hands rest at where they are, thumb never once stopping in its sole task on wiping away his seemingly never-ending stream of tears.

It’s peaceful for a while, before Suo ultimately breaks it.

“Why are you crying?” Sakura hears him ask with an unreadable tone.  

And that. That’s the straw at the camel’s back. As if on autopilot, Sakura feels his mouth open against his will and words start spilling out from god knows where.

“Because I made everyone look so fucking sad all the time by being an idiot who can’t say shit when it matters, and now nobody trusts me anymore, and…” Sakura trails off here, because it hurts to say, but it has to be said anyway. “I know I deserve it because I broke their trust, but you know what? Even if they look at me like I’m some kinda miserable ghost, it’s still better than sitting here with you because you won’t even look at me-”

The hand on his cheek that had frozen up once he had begun talking comes back to life at his last words, forcibly pushing his face to the left and.

Maroon gazes back at him for the first time in a while, so close that his tears don’t even affect his vision. Sakura blinks, a single teardrop rolling down the puffy skin of his eyelid and right into the crevice of Suo’s thumb.

And Suo shatters.

“How could you say that?” Suo whispers to him, his tone wretched and his eye so dark with despair that it makes Sakura nauseous. “Nobody’s sad because you lied, we’re sad because you couldn’t trust us enough to tell the truth.”

The hands on his face and neck tightens their grip, but Sakura barely notices, too busy staring into Suo’s eye. The window to the soul and everything.

“No trust was broken, but you very nearly broke me when I found you in so much blood I could barely tell where the wound was located. Do you understand me?” Sakura gets dragged forward, his forehead knocking into Suo’s. It’s not as soft as his other touches, but it’s the warmest he’s ever felt.

“Please don’t put me through that a second time,” Suo whispers, his words breathed onto Sakura’s lips. “Or else I don’t think I can bring myself to look at you ever again.”

There’s a lurch in his stomach, and Suo must sense it because he quickly follows up with, “Sakura, I’m your vice. How can I face you, much less look at you knowing that the reason you got hurt was because you couldn’t trust me? That I didn’t seem reliable enough to you?”

His eye shifts downwards, lips curving up into a smile so bitter Sakura can taste it on his tongue.

“I’m ashamed. I don’t deserve to look at you.”

Suo’s admittance hangs in the air, balanced on a tightrope that Sakura viciously cuts off as he grabs Suo’s face with both hands and smacks his forehead against his.

Hard.

“Sakura, what-” Suo reels back, hands clutching the center of his rapidly reddening forehead. He’s back to that anger that kicked this whole thing off, the emotion glinting in his eye. “You’re injured! Why would you-”

“Then shut up and stop staying stupid shit,” Sakura fires back at him, his long-time friend of many years finally coming back to him. Fury. “It’s pissing me off.”

Suo looks ready to retaliate with something cutting, before Sakura mumbles in a very small voice, “I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

A few seconds pass with Suo staying frozen like the world’s silliest ice sculpture, until the illusion shatters as he collapses on Sakura’s shoulder, face tucked in his neck and hands gripping the back of his shirt like a child seeking comfort.

The him of the past wouldn’t know how to comfort someone to save his life, but after three years in Furin with all these touchy-feely weirdos, he knows a thing or two about comfort now.

“You scared me.”

Sakura strokes the back of his head, running his fingers through soft strands of hair. “I know.”

“Don’t do that to me again.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry for hurting you.”

Suo makes this animal sound that Sakura can only describe as anguish and soon after, he feels the side of his neck dampen with hot tears.

Lying here on this crappy bed, Suo glued to him like a limpet with attachment issues, Sakura thinks that time truly heals all wounds, because he has a feeling they’ll be alright.

And they were.

Until now.

Suo is glaring down at him, red eye once again glinting in that all-too-familiar anger, and Sakura gulps.

He feels like a husband who got caught cheating on his wife right after the wedding night. And just like any cheating bastard, Sakura has to suck it up and call it quits when he knows he’s done wrong.

“No, it’s not like code April.” Suo’s glare intensifies, and so does Sakura’s guilt. “But it could have been. I’m sorry I nearly risked it again.”

Suo hums, but says nothing else. Still not enough to appease the vengeful wife.

“But I… still don’t want to tell you about the disguise.”

Nirei’s terrified squeak is the only sound made for the next few seconds, and from his screen’s point of view, it must be like watching a vicious court divorce live, except this is the moment where the husband refuses to reveal the identity of his other woman.

 Oh god.

The atmosphere that was previously warming returns back into its originally frigid state. If looks could kill, Sakura would be dead on the floor right about now.

“Hah, and why not, Sakura-kun? Didn’t you promise? Or was it just for show?” At the word ‘promise’, both Sakura and Nirei could hear the way Suo’s voice cracked, but neither one of them mentions it.

“You’re asking obvious questions again. Quit it.”

“Is it an obvious question? Obvious questions have obvious answers you know, and yet I can’t even seem to get a definite answer for this simple, easy question.” Suo’s mouth curves upwards into a mean smile. “How about you tell me the answer, Sakura-kun?”

Ah, for some reason, his heart is starting to hurt.

“…you’re being purposely cruel.”

That cold stretch of lips is wiped off Suo’s face, his eye shuttering and expression returning to its originally blank slate.

Sakura knows he’s being difficult, but even he can’t understand why telling them makes his skin crawl. This worry appeared ever since he had volunteered himself to Tsubaki, but he can’t narrow it down to what.

“I don’t want you to see me in my disguise,” Sakura tells them, each word forced out of his throat.

“Why?” Nirei asks desperately. “Is it embarrassing or something? I promise if it is, I won’t react at all when I meet you. In fact, I’ll even pretend you’re a stranger who I happen to cross paths with on the street!”

“That’s the thing,” Sakura bites out. “What if it isn’t pretend? What if you don’t recognize me in my disguise, and pass me by without even looking at me?”

Nirei still has a confused expression on his face, but understanding dawns on Suo’s, pain bleeding into his eye.

“How can we recognize you if we have no clue it’s you?” Suo inquires in a light tone.

“That’s better than walking past me knowing what I look like,” Sakura admits in frustration, mainly towards himself. Why was he being so unreasonable? “It’ll hurt more if I feel that maybe you might recognize me, only to have that hope crushed.”

He remembers the view of watching someone walk away from you, their backs unmoving and unsympathetic. He tries to put Nirei and Suo in that situation, and nearly falls over by how much his chest squeezed in pain.

Judging by how Nirei and Suo has this similar look of sadness in their eyes, Sakura thinks he might as well be broadcasting his pathetic thoughts out to the world.

“I know I’m not making any sense right now, because it’s not like you can recognize me when I look completely different.” Sakura barks out a laugh, the sound having a tinge of self-deprecation in it. “I’ll get over it. Let’s just focus on doing our jobs and following Tsubaki’s plan without any self-sabotaging.”

He takes in a deep breath, and lets it out. “Tomorrow, I’ll most likely be wearing-”

“Stop.”

“Suo-san?” Nirei exclaims, while Sakura’s wondering what shit Suo is trying to pull based on that cheery smile stuck on his face.

“Nirei-kun, do you like science? If so, won’t you be my partner for my experiment tomorrow?” Suo asks in a bright voice, all rainbows and sunshine even though he was on the verge of murder a mere five minutes ago.

“Are you both ignoring what I just said?” Sakura demands, face turning stormy. “Don’t sabotage tomorrow’s mission!”

Nirei has an uncertain expression on his face, but at Suo’s calm gaze, his eyes gain a determined edge to them and he ends up saying, “Y-yes! I love science, Suo-san. What do you need help for your e-experiment?”

“Hey,” Sakura growls, but it goes unheard as the two begin discussions about the ‘human body’ and ‘instinct’ or whatever.

“Ah, would you look at the time?” Suo gasps out as Sakura shoots him a deadpan look. “Should we wrap it up and call it a night, then?”

Nirei agrees quickly while muttering something about doing more research, being the first to exit the call and leaving just him and Suo alone. Right before Sakura goes to leave call as well, Suo speaks up.

“I’m sorry about what I said before.”

Sakura’s finger hovers above the ‘end call’ button, but doesn’t make any further movements to press it.

“I know you keep your promises,” Suo continues, his voice remorseful. “I don’t know why I said the things I said.”

“It’s fine.” Sakura eventually ends up saying, cheeks a light pink. “You don’t have to… do whatever it is you’re trying to do tomorrow. If you don’t recognize me, I won’t go crazy or anything.”

“Who says it has anything to do with you? Maybe my passion simply lies with science.” Suo’s teasing him, his smile similar to that of a laughing fox. “My, has Sakura-kun developed a big head over the years?”

“Oi,” Sakura hisses out, eye twitching in annoyance.

“Just joking, Sakura-kun. But truth be told, whether it’s due to science or some supernatural elements, I don’t think there’ll be a time where I can walk right past you without a second glance.”

On his screen, Suo tilts his head to the side, earrings following suit. His eyes are so very warm. “I’m not sure if you’re aware, but you have this charm about you that I just can’t look away from.”

“I don’t think I can, actually, even if I tried.” His eyes curve up into soft crescent moons, and this all rapidly feels too intimate, too vulnerable for it to be just a jab to tease at Sakura. “Please keep that in mind tomorrow.”

“Wh-what are you saying, you fucking-” Blood rushes to his face so quickly he genuinely feels lightheaded, his heart thumping to the staccato notes of Suo’s laughter.

“Goodnight, Sakura.” Suo’s smile, this one specific smile that’s all gooey at the edges, is the last thing Sakura sees before his screen goes black, the call’s duration reflected instead of the faces of the two boys he had been talking to for the past hour.

“…goodnight,” he says a bit dumbly at his blank screen, face so hot he can imagine steam coming off from the top of his head.

As he rounds upon his apartment, Sakura wonders what ‘experiment’ he’ll be victim to tomorrow.

-

He finds out when he’s about ten minutes away from reaching the club, his feet starting to drag against the ground without his permission, somehow feeling heavier than a ton of bricks.

Suo’s words echo in his head, and while there’s a tight ball of anxiety sitting heavy in his stomach at what’s going to go down in a few hours, he can also feel residual warmth rise to the apple of his cheeks whenever he recalls that firm ‘stop’.

…was this the sign of the mental break Sugishita was always confident would happen to him one day?

Lost in his thoughts, Sakura is unprepared when someone lightly bumps into his shoulder on his left, while another on his right grabs the hood of his plain, black hoodie and smoothly tugs it up to cover his head.

It’s over in a second, and by the time Sakura blinks, he’s alone on the streets of the Red-light district, not a soul in sight. Immediately, goosebumps start to rise on the back of his neck.

He purposely wore non-descript clothes today, which admittedly is ninety-percent of his outfits, but he had made sure there wasn’t a single article of clothing on his body that would indicate his allegiance to Bofurin.

Not only that, but with the way the streets are practically deserted due to Nakamura warning all the locals to close their shops for the day, there was no way not one, but two people coincidentally bumped into him at the exact same time, and so close to the club as well.

‘My men noticed that more guys in these green jackets have been appearing near the club,’ Nakamura had said, and Sakura soon finds himself quickly scanning the streets for even a single hint of green, his paranoia reaching its peak.

But… Sakura knows his body. He who bases his entire fighting style on pure instinct and spatial awareness, there isn’t a chance in hell that he wouldn’t have thrown a punch at the fuckers who touched him, simply out of reflex.

Unconsciously, his eyes lose that laser-focused edge to them, and his heart stops trying to beat right out of his damn chest. Before he can further dissect his body’s reaction, he feels his phone buzz five consecutive times, and without looking away from the streets, he takes it out and opens a series of unread messages sent just a few seconds ago.

Suo

Did you like our prank, Sakura-kun? :)

Nirei

Don’t take it the wrong way and get mad! We were just trying to prove a point… and Suo-san said it was better to beg for forgiveness later then ask for permission now…

Suo

Nirei-kun, I think our experiment was a success, seeing as we returned unharmed! It was as if Sakura-kun’s body recognized us before his mind did. Human intuition is truly remarkable!

Suo

If your body can do it, then there’s no reason ours can’t do the same. After all, as your vices, we’re all cut from the same cloth. ^ - ^

Nirei

Right! And please wear your hood up, Sakura-san… we’ve already passed by five men in green on our patrol around the area!

The messages end there, and right after he finishes reading them with a headache brewing in the back of his head from his rising blood levels, he then feels two pairs of eyes watching him.

Before he can wrap his head around the situation, he feels his body twist to the side like a puppet whose strings got tugged, and he catches sight of a flash of maroon and gold around the corner.

He gives chase, because what in the world are these two idiots doing pulling shit like this when the streets are probably crawling with said green bastards.

Legs pumping, he’s lead around the area like a horse chasing after a carrot on a stick, his sense of direction completely forgotten and instead replaced with the urge to steal more glances of a high Chinese-styled shirt collar and a beaten old notebook gripped in shaky hands.

Somewhere deep inside, from a place he would never admit out loud existed, he trusts them not to lead him astray.

He doesn’t know how many minutes has passed since they started this wild-goose chase, but eventually the two figures a street away from him slowly come to a stop, and he finds himself matching their pace.

They’re at a standstill, with Sakura panting and out of breath, facing the backs of Nirei and Suo. Even from afar, he can tell Nirei’s about to collapse in a puddle of sweat and exhaustion as his narrow shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes, yet Suo that bastard is still standing in perfect posture, barely a hair out of place.

Without any warning, they both look behind simultaneously with matching smiles on their faces. Sakura takes a step back in mild shock, and watches quietly as Nirei obnoxiously mouths the words ‘good luck’ to him, while Suo simply keeps that smug ass grin on his face, cheekily pointing at the top of his head.

Sakura raises a hand to the top of his head, and realizes the hood of his jacket had come off during the chase. As he roughly shoves it back over his head with a furious blush painting his face, the two idiots in front of him give one last wave before dashing left and disappearing into a corner.

Sakura’s legs give an instinctive lurch forward, before he snaps out of it and begins to wonder where exactly he ended up at.

He turns his head to the right, and comes face to face to the doors of a very familiar club. He scoffs roughly, trying to ignore the way his body feels like honey left out in the sun to melt, and makes his way inside to track down Tsubaki.

-

The first thing he notices when he steps into the club is that the place is now basically a wasteland. Where there were usually a few guests milling about enjoying a rather early happy hour has now become a room full of empty tables and vacant seats. Hell, even the bartender isn’t manning the bar, missing from his usual spot.  

The second thing he notices is the subtle notes of music that barely fill the air. Sakura has pretty sharp ears, and yet he finds himself straining to catch the melody of the song. It isn’t quite as sensual and upbeat as the song from the previous day; this song can instead be described in two words.

Fast and powerful.

There’s not one second in the song that isn’t filled with notes that pitch fiercely upwards, and there’s not one second in the song that simply gives you time to breathe. It’s a song that screams all or nothing.

The third and final thing he notices is that there is a figure moving on stage, wearing a simple shirt and shorts, but on their feet dons a pair of pure white heels. As the music hits a crescendo, the figure finishes whatever choreography they were previously doing and sharply turns her body front, soft blonde hair swishing behind her.

Sakura is hit with a sense of déjà vu as he is once again, entranced. He quietly takes a seat, and unnoticed by Fumi, he watches as she treats the stage as a makeshift catwalk, her heels striking the wood on beat with the song, her hips swaying in tandem with each swing of her legs as she confidently saunters her way to the front of the stage.

There is something about the way the pair of simple heels make her walk feel almost authoritarian. Every step she takes demands attention, and the heels, which turns her posture straight and legs unbendable, only seems to elevate that.

‘This is Fumi’, he thinks to himself, a realization being born. ‘A person who embraces the stares she receives and does whatever she wants anyways.’

‘And what she wants to do is dance.’

Click-clack.

The sharp sound her heels make as she comes to a stop at the front of the stage echoes inside Sakura’s head, knocking against its walls. Their eyes meet, and as Fumi stares him down from her position on top, Sakura feels goosebumps rise at the back of his neck.

There’s a fire catching behind her eyes, growing hotter and more vicious in its heat the longer Sakura looks at it. He’s suddenly reminded of those man-made forest fires he sees on the news, devouring everything in its path with single-minded vengeance inside its maw of embers.

Some would think it perfectly describes rage; encapsulates the desire for destruction and pain to all it meets without remorse.

Sakura knows better. At his worst days, he finds himself back on the tightrope, afraid to move a single step in fear of falling forever and ever, without a single hand in sight to hold him.

He’s guessing that right now, Fumi is being forced to watch as she burns the people around her with no agency in who gets hurt, and yet unable to release a single lick of flames towards those green bastards who started the fire.

In a few hours, the fire will begin its path straight towards the club with Fumi at its center, incapable to do anything but watch as a witness towards a fire she didn’t start but can’t stop either. Her people will leave the fight with burns, and all she can do is take responsibility.  

That is helplessness, in its rawest form.

That is fucking unforgivable, in Sakura’s honest opinion.

Gently, so very gently, he imagines himself taking a branch and lighting it up with Fumi’s fire, and he will walk and walk and walk, because no matter how long it takes, he will bring forward her pain and force it onto those green fuckers who dare lit the match.

He will burn them right till their roots, and although it won’t extinguish the flames or recover the burns, Sakura is going to make sure Fumi will never see, much less feel, the heat of helplessness again.

Eventually, the forest will regrow, lusher that it was previously, and the club patrons will cheer and clap for Fumi, who will be freely dancing amongst abundant foliage and the smiles of her friends.

Sakura refuses to flinch in the face of such a wonderful dream. He keeps his gaze steady, and slowly nods.

Maybe she reads something in his eyes, or maybe she doesn’t, but either way, tension eventually bleeds out from her body, and with a final glance at Sakura, Fumi turns and walks away, disappearing around a corner.

Click-clack.

Her footsteps sound lighter, and Sakura’s hands feel heavier.

Checking the time on the clock nailed to one of the walls, he curses and begins to frantically sprint towards the changing room where Tsubaki had instructed him to meet them.

As his feet push against the floorboards, producing heavy thumps instead of sharp clicks, he thinks of white heels and a torch in his hand. With burning palms, he reaches out to turn the doorknob of the changing room. It clicks open.

Click-clack.

He never thought the heat of someone’s dreams would ever feel this warm.

-

“Tsubaki,” he calls out, eyeing the piles of clothes littered around the floor haphazardly. “You in here or-?”

He’s interrupted midway, because he gets fucking nailed with a lacey red bra straight to the forehead. It smells vaguely floral, which is when he starts screaming bloody murder.

“Tsu-Tsubaki,” Sakura yowls, his voice shaking in terror. He peels off the bra from his face, dizzy as all the blood rushes up to his head at an alarming speed. A whizzing sound is suddenly heard coming closer towards him, and before he can see what the hell is flying towards him again, he instinctively jumps left, and watches with a foaming mouth as he dodges something that vaguely resembles underwear.

Except half of the underwear is replaced with a long string.

Ah… maybe he has to let go of Fumi’s dreams now. He’s about to do something very drastic that involves the bra he’s for some reason still clutching in his sweaty hands.

Another object that is either a curly wig or another bra flies over the top of his head as he drops to the floor, heart racing. The object lands behind him with a heavy sound, and his heart starts beating at a more rapid pace. He’s too scared to turn back to see what exactly fell behind him, and why the fuck it sounded like it had weight.

From his view on the floor, he scans the room and identifies where all this stuff is being flung from. And of course, to his obvious luck, it’s all the way to the end of the room.

He holds the bra in his hand consideringly, lightly running his fingers along what he can tell is a metal wire? Sewn inside the edge of the bra? What the fuck.

He bends it a bit, and surprisingly finds that it holds pretty damn well. A feathery skirt comes to rest softly beside him, and that’s when Sakura makes up his mind.

Suo on a whim taught him how to use nunchakus last year, and Sakura thinks, why not, and swings his arm like his life depends on it while gripping one end of the bra.

Being nineteen is already so weird. Using lacey semi-lingerie to fend off articles of clothing that confuse him so bad he feels instinctual fear just at the sight of them? It was bound to happen one day.

Sakura watches in amazement as it snaps wide like a whip, and effectively slaps away a bikini top in midair. Stars enter his eyes because fuck yeah for unlocking a new weapon, and he jumps back on his feet, one hand in front of him to guard any incoming garments while the other holds the lacey bra taut as its other end is tucked under Sakura’s upper arm.

Four articles of neon clothing come soaring towards him, looking vaguely threating with their ominous metallic sheen. Sakura grins sharply, and lashes out.

He’s not ashamed to say he got carried away because before he knew it, he’s standing in front of the source of all those missile clothes, out of breath and the red bra missing a padded cup.

He… doesn’t know how that happened either. It flops sadly in his hands, and Sakura hopes he bought his wallet to pay for damages.

The ‘source’ lets out an aggrieved sound, disrupting his thoughts, and a heeled boot soon follows. Aimed right at his crotch.

The shriek that escapes from the void of Sakura’s throat is only between him, Tsubaki, and God. No one else can know. No one.

“Oi!” Sakura hisses out, body posed to defend against any other incoming attacks, but he immediately backtracks when Tsubaki turns to face them, their eyes brimming with manic energy. On all fours, they start to crawl towards him, their hair matted and hanging dead in front of their face like something straight out of B-grade horror movie.

Sakura takes a step back, sweat beading at his hairline. He doesn’t think he’s breathing.

Tsubaki’s eyes are burning a spot between Sakura’s spread ankles, and their knees inch forward slowly, and then they suddenly wiggle towards him at fucking supersonic speed like a worm on crack. Sakura screams and jumps up in the air while Tsubaki lunges forward with a triumphant sound, arm outstretched to grab at something.

The end result is this: Tsubaki landing flat on their face, belly first, while Sakura lands on top of them, their backs meeting and a simultaneous ‘oomph!’ being shoved out of their mouths.

He drags his body in an upright position before his brain concludes this was all in fact just a fever dream as a form of mental self-defense. But just as he’s about to climb off Tsubaki’s back, their arm swings up, and Sakura gets slapped by something that feels like boxing gloves right back down onto the floor. He wants to die now, please and thank you.

“I finally found it!” Tsubaki cheers, arms waving with something made of black leather clutched in between their fingers. “Fumi-chan’s ultra mega cute skirt! Costed me my cake allowance to buy it for her, but its quality is truly top-notch.”

They jump onto their feet, light as a spring, and then proceeds to run around the room, picking off some more clothes to pair up with the skirt along with bits of accessories before shoving it all in Sakura’s hands.

“Put this on and then we can get started on your hair and makeup,” Tsubaki tells him, pushing his shoulders towards a changing screen in the corner of the room. Right before they pull the curtain close, they give him a warm smile, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’re going to look great! Now, chop chop, I want to see the fruits of my stylish labor!”

Alone in this cramped space with a bunch of clothes that weight a ton in his arms, Sakura simply sighs and kicks off his pants. He’s not gonna question whether or not the outfit will look nice; he’s seen Tsubaki’s outfits, and all of them were, quote on quote by Nirei, ‘extremely stylish, as expected of one of the Four Kings’. The real question is, how exactly is he gonna fit himself into this tiny ass skirt?

“You know, this skirt always made Fumi-chan look like such a doll!” Tsubaki gushes once they hear the familiar sound of rustling fabric, their eyes bright with excitement. “The way the skirt hugs her figure without being too constricting, but still looking super cute! Ah, you’ll definitely pull it off, my adorable junior!”

Their phone is out and ready, finger positioned to take as many pictures as possible once Sakura is all dressed up. Tsubaki remembers the countless times Fumi-chan has worn this outfit, and they not only chose it for Sakura because it gives off such a cool vibe, but also because this skirt, while being a bit form-fitting, was considered quite modest as it was only a few centimeters above Fumi-chan’s knees.

Wouldn’t want to scare the boy in his first skirt, and all that, seeing as Sakura didn’t seem the type for any bold or revealing fashion choices, cough cough his very sad wardrobe that Tsubaki should get to fixing as soon as possible. But the point of wearing cute clothes is to feel comfortable in them, and prioritizing comfortability is a motto that Tsubaki lives by!

“I’m done,” Sakura calls out from behind the changing screen, his voice unreadable. “It’s a bit… tight. Maybe I put it on wrong or something.”

“I’m sure you’re just not used to the feeling of leather. Come out and let me see the finished look!” Tsubaki readies their phone to get the best angle, and happily waits.

A socked foot peers out of the changing screen, followed by another, and soon Sakura is standing in front of them, face blushing and fingers mindlessly tugging the skirt down.

Tsubaki takes five seconds to comprehend what the hell are they exactly seeing, before their mouth drops open into a horrified screech. As expected, the white top and matching leather jacket is a perfect fit with the skirt, not to mention the way the outfit brightens up with the little accents of silver jewelry that they added onto the outfit. Nothing’s wrong with the outfit per se, in fact, it suits Sakura much more than what they were expecting.

It's just…

Why did it look so lewd!?

On Fumi-chan, the black leather miniskirt made her look like a cute and rebellious little sister. But on Sakura, forget form-fitting, it looked like it was painted onto his hips and upper thighs.

The snug fit made his waist look criminally small, and it contrasted heavily with Sakura’s rather generous thighs, built from years of fighting and lined with muscle. But outside of fights and left untensed, it loses its lean look and instead gives off the impression of plushness, the edges of the skirt gently biting into the meat of his upper thighs.

Yes, upper thighs. Because for some godforsaken reason, what they thought would be modest ended up being a skirt that rode up all the way above Sakura’s knees and barely covered his boxers, exposing miles of pale skin and soft thighs. Oh my god.

Tsubaki’s brain that’s used for clothing and fashion starts whirring at an incredible speed against their will, and eventually spits out the fun fact that skirts usually ride up when the… assets behind… have a little too much going on back there.

Tsubaki’s holding back tears right now.

They need to be sedated and locked up in a prison cell for their crimes against humanity. And no, it’s not like Tsubaki is against revealing clothing. Everyone is allowed to express themselves through style in any way they wanted. Heck, they’ve fought in booty shorts and a singlet once due to a wardrobe malfunction. Nothing wrong with showing a little bit of skin.

But. This is Sakura, their pseudo-kind-of-but-not-really-but-also-basically-adopted younger brother. This feels illegal on so many levels.

At Tsubaki’s silent screaming, Sakura scowls fiercely at them, his blush spreading to the tips of his ears. He then widens his legs and raises his hands in front of him in a defensive pose, which prompts Tsubaki to pale and nearly pass out because the skirt looks even shorter now.

“What is it?” Sakura barks out, his hands reaching to once again tug down the skirt. “Did I put it on backwards? I mean, the back did feel kinda weird.” He proceeds to turn around, and Tsubaki feels their sanity snap.

“DON’T MOVE,” Tsubaki roars, hands slapping onto their eyes, ready to start screaming, crying and throwing up. They’re going to lock up this skirt in the secret closet behind the kitchen after this. Fuck proportions, truly fashion’s greatest enemy.

“What the-” Sakura, in mistake of thinking there must be some dangerous threat lurking in the room to make Tsubaki react like that, spins his body to scan their surroundings, one leg lifting in preparation to deliver one of his infamous bone-breaking kicks when suddenly-

A ripping sound shocks both the occupants in the room into dead silence.

“…a-ah,” Sakura opens his mouth, but only that sound escapes and nothing else. Shakey hands reach down to carefully touch the skirt, and finds a sizeable tear in its side. When his fingers caress the material of his boxers instead of thick leather, his face explodes into a puff of red. Tsubaki half-expects him to drop dead into a faint with how fast the blush is spreading down his neck.

For the next few seconds, they both simply stand there like bumbling fools, eyes wide and jaws dropped. Tsubaki looks at the state of the boy in front of them, wearing a miniskirt with a ripped slit all the way to the top of its band, trembling knees pressed together and both hands trying to cover the tear as if that would make it disappear, all while looking like he’s on the verge of extreme violence and gore.

Not going to lie, this is the funniest fucking thing that has happened to them this month.

Tsubaki wheezes, hands on their knees as they bend over from the force of their laughter. Sakura splutters in rage, but still frozen in that damsel in distress position, probably afraid to make the tear worse. That only serves to make the whole situation even funnier, and Tsubaki finds themselves nearly crying from how hard they’re cackling.

“Sorry, my precious junior.” Tsubaki apologizes, taking off their jean jacket to wrap it around Sakura’s waist. Their eyes are still tearing up from held-back giggles. “The skirt was originally quite long on Fumi-chan, but I forgot to factor in your proportions. I really didn’t expect it to be that small.”

“Tch,” Sakura whips his face away, a sullen pout on his mouth. His face hasn’t cooled down at all, remaining in that vibrant tomato shade. “Just, tell Fumi m’ sorry for ripping her skirt. I’ll pay to get it fixed.”

Tsubaki coos, hopelessly endeared. “What are you even talking about, you silly junior. This was on me for giving you the wrong skirt, and I got a few tricks up my sleeve to patch this old thing up. Not even leather can best me!”

“Then,” Sakura mumbles, his eyes downcast. “Can we try another skirt? It doesn’t feel as bad as I thought. Maybe another one of Fumi’s outfits?” His socked feet fidget on the ground, and Tsubaki smiles, although they feel like they’re missing something important.

“I have just the perfect thing for you, hold on a second.” Tsubaki darts to a little mountain of clothes, digging through it until they come back up for air holding long, flowy black fabric, completely different from the previously stiff leather.

“Tada! Fumi’s so-called soft girl outfit,” Tsubaki lifts up a black skirt that swishes softly every time it moves, and guessing from its length, it would reach about Sakura’s ankles. When Sakura wasn’t looking, they somehow manage to acquire a green sweater that reminds Sakura of the hue of Bofurin’s jacket cuffs, and some gold jewelry to match this time.

“Ready for round two?”

Sakura grins, snatching the clothes from Tsubaki’s hands. “You know I never back down from a challenge.”

The curtain slips shut, and Sakura gets to work. While peeling off the leather skirt from his legs, he stares dumbfounded at the ripped slit he created, and then places the palms of his hands at the sides of his hips. He lifts up his hands which stayed in that position, and studies the space between them with furrowed brows.

Did he… gain weight? He should probably stop eating so much of Kotoha’s omelet rice this month.

“Sakura!” Tsubaki calls out, phone once again ready to spam pictures of their new Bofurin mascot. “Done yet?”

The curtain abruptly opens to reveal a boy clad in an oversized green sweater, sloping down his shoulders and over his wrists and making him look so goddamn cuddly that Tsubaki has the urge to just snatch him up and hug him all day long. Sakura walks forward, and the black maxi skirt glides with him in delicate waves, embracing his legs and flirting with his ankles every step of the way.

Sakura… is really damn cute right now. Tsubaki’s fingers is hitting the shutter button before their mind can even keep up, enchanted with how the long fabrics just seem to swallow up his figure and spit him back out into something so very small.

Cute, cute, cute!

“I want to put you on a soup spoon like a little dumpling and stuff you into my mouth.” Tsubaki says, eyes completely serious. “Not to eat you, but to keep you safe, because the world is so cold and dangerous but you will be warm and protected between my cheeks.”

“What the fuck, Tsubaki.”

“I’m saying you look so cute right now it’s actually giving me mega cuteness aggression.” The camera shutters again. “Stay away from me, Sakura. Actually, never mind, come a bit closer, Ume wants a clearer picture of your face.”

“Umemiya?!”

“Go on,” Tsubaki encourages, giving Sakura a thumbs up. “Try doing another one of your kicks. I’m a hundred percent sure nothing’s going to rip this time!”

“Shaddup!” Sakura growls out, face flushed, but he readies his stance. He lifts one leg up, the black fabric of the skirt creating an airy arc, and tightly pivots his body as his leg slams up in the air, most definitely kicking the shit out of an invisible enemy. Mesmerized, Tsubaki watches as the maxi skirt seems to dance with the kick, fanning out in the air and making Sakura’s harsh kick seem something of beauty and grace.

With shining eyes, their fingers unconsciously click the camera button, and that’s when everything goes very, horribly wrong.

As Sakura spins to swiftly land his foot back onto the ground, the skirt suddenly bunches up with the forceful motion and ends up tightly wounding itself around Sakura’s legs, binding them together.

Shocked by this turn of events, Tsubaki watches as he wobbles once, twice, and then ultimately falls in a heap of soft fabrics onto the floor. He lays frozen in that starfish position for a while, before whipping his head up and glaring at the camera.

“Did you get that on camera?” Sakura asks them darkly, something menacing on their face. Clearly the broken pride of a man who’s fell flat on his ass for the first time in years.

“No,” Tsubaki answers lightly, their finger quietly tapping the camera button at lightning speed. Sakura looks like a bullied little sister now with his tucked knees, teary eyes and hands that have disappeared inside the long sleeves of the sweater. This might be the best day of their life, and Ume’s once they forward him this goldmine. “Move your head a bit to the left for me?”

Sakura, that sweet, silly boy, actually does what he’s told, before freezing at the sound of the camera shuttering.

“Oops,” Tsubaki says, red mouth popped into a cheeky ‘O’. “Forgot to silence my camera, sorry.”

“You-” Before Sakura can do something drastic, like dropkick their phone out the window, Tsubaki lifts them up by the hands and ignoring the squawk of protest, twirls them around, delighted at how the skirt flares out around them.

“What a shame,” they sigh mournfully, squeezing Sakura tightly. They were right; he was cuddly as hell right now. “This skirt’s no good either, huh? Well, back to the drawing board then. Let’s see… maybe a skort this time?”

Sakura is quiet in their arms, when they suddenly feel a tug at the sleeve of their shirt. They loosen their hold on the boy and gently pushes them away at arm’s length. Tsubaki scans his face, which has an undiscernible look on it.

“I dunno if it’s considered rude,” he says. Tsubaki still can’t clock the expression on their face. “But can I wear the outfit Fumi was using yesterday?”

Tsubaki blinks. “Her dancer outfit?”

A nod. With pursed lips and hard eyes, Tsubaki finally recognizes the look on his face. It’s determination.

“Sure, the skirt for that outfit is adjustable with a simple ribbon corset.” Tsubaki answers, their tone quizzical. “Can I ask why though?”

Sakura is quiet for a moment, before he answers truthfully.

“Fumi deserves justice from these sick fucks, and when I beat their asses, I want them to know that this is from Fumi. Her heels and skirt and top are the things that are making them eat asphalt. The blonde hair that they find so appealing? It’ll be the last thing they see before I knock their lights out. She deserves retribution, and I’ll give her their heads on a silver platter as tribute.”

He walks towards a shoe closet where his attention has been trapped since the moment he caught sight of them. He picks up a pair of slim red heels, the exact replica of Fumi’s white ones, and thinks with morbid humor that the red will be better at hiding the bloodstains once he kicks the shit out of the men who are after her.

“You’re not the only one who wants to protect dreams.” The glossy red sheen of the heel shines under the lights. He grips it tighter, overcome with an unfamiliar emotion.

“Hah…” Tsubaki sighs, and slowly takes the red heels into their hands. “What a pretty violent confession. So in-character for you, Sakura.”

“C-confession?!” Sakura yelps, and if he was a cat, his fur would be bristling right now. “Who said anything bout a confession?”

“Well, it certainly charmed your recipient for sure. You’re lucky they’re a little violent themselves, isn’t that right Fumi-chan?” At her name being called out, the door of the changing room opens, revealing a head of blonde hair and firetruck-red cheeks.

Seeing Sakura’s flabbergasted face, Fumi immediately drops down into a low bow, but when she come back up, her face is still glowing brightly with a smile. “Sorry for eavesdropping! I was passing by, and when I heard what you said, I just.” She dashes forward, throwing herself onto Sakura into a tight hug.

“Thank you so much.” She whispers in her ear, her voice wobbly and tender.

“What are ya thanking me for?” Sakura grinds out, his hands clutching at the sleeves of his sweater. “Anybody would’ve done the same for you, so cut this out.”

She pulls back, and her eyes curve happily when she says, “No. No, I don’t think they would. Not to this extent.”

Unable to respond, Sakura just clicks his tongue and turns his face away. Fumi laughs at his reaction, and gives a final pat on his shoulder before leaving.

“Yesterday’s outfit is just finished drying in the laundry room. I’ll go and fetch it for you.” On her way out, she passes by Sakura’s shoes of his choice, and smiles. “Nice pick.” She tells him, and then she’s gone.

Once she’s out of the room, Tsubaki whistles. “Damn, you did a number on her, my Cassanova junior. I’ve never seen her this lovestruck.”

As if a bolt of lightning entered his spine, he straightens and hisses with a red face, “Whaddya mean by l-lovestruck?”

Tsubaki giggles. “I mean, the closest thing I’ve seen her get lovestruck over a man! Don’t worry Sakura, you’re not Fumi-chan’s type. She’s our club’s self-proclaimed Ms. Ladykiller after all.”

His eyes widen in understanding, and the flush eventually drains from his cheeks. After some time, his eyes come back to the red heels, and he takes off his socks as if in a trance. Once he’s barefoot, he carefully slips into the heels, and it feels.

It’s not like he’s instantly towering over Tsubaki or something, and it isn’t the most comfortable feeling either. His toes are pinched together tightly, and the back of his feet’s heel rubs uncomfortably against the sharp edge of the shoe. But despite all that, when he takes his first step forward, he understands what makes Fumi stand so proud and tall on stage.

Click-clack.

Sakura grins ferociously, and takes another step forward, only for his ankle to twist to the right along with his whole body. He swears he’s never tasted floor this much in his life. Not even when he joined his first brawl.

Before he can drag himself back up to try again, Tsubaki helps him to his feet with gentle hands, brushing off any lint from his clothes as they do so.

Sakura expects some light teasing, but all Tsubaki does is run a hand through his messed-up bangs, meticulously arranging it so it doesn’t fall into his eyes.

“Let’s start on your hair, and then once Fumi-chan comes back with your clothes, we’ll finish up with your makeup.” Sakura is seated on a blush chair in front of a vanity mirror lined with lipsticks and blushes and other cosmetics.

“Thank you for making Fumi-chan smile again, Sakura.” Tsubaki face, so loving and kind, makes his stomach twist itself into knots in the best way possible. “I’ll repay this by making sure Suo and Nirei can’t take their damn eyes off you.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean-” Sakura asks, before shutting up as yellow hair fills his vision.

“You’ll understand when you’re older,” Tsubaki says offhandedly, and thrusts a comb threateningly at Sakura’s face. “Now hold still, my adorable junior.”

It was a very long two hours after that.

-

Tsubaki and Fumi lean on the doors of the club, both their hair and clothes in disarray. Their faces are sweaty and lipstick swatches line the front of their hands, but every passerby cannot deny that pride is what they see when they look at the two.

If that same passerby were to follow their line of sight, they would see a girl walking away with confident taps of her red heels and the bouncing curls of blonde hair.

“Do you think he’ll be okay?” Fumi-chan asks them with an undercurrent of worry in her voice.

“He’s my most capable and reliable junior,” Tsubaki answers gleefully. “There’s never been a fight he lost. And plus, I added a little something something up his skirt. A gift, if you will. Get ready to have some heads delivered to you tonight.”

Fumi-chan laughs, and looks consideringly at the disappearing back of Sakura’s figure. “What a shame he’s a man. All dolled up like this, he’s so my type.”

A cackle escapes past Tsubaki’s red lips. “Imagine how the people who already consider him their type would react. Ah, I really need to treat Suo to two cups of tea now.”

“Suo?” Fumi-chan tilts her head in bemusment. “Who’s that?”

“Ah, let’s just say he’s someone who’s day is about to be ruined very soon.”

-

In the middle of patrolling the entrance of the Red-light district, Suo sneezes. He rubs his nose with a frown, and Nirei glances at him worriedly.

“Are you feeling under the weather, Suo-san?” Nirei frets, and yet his eyes never fail to keep scanning the streets for their leader.

“Hm? No, I think I just breathed in some dust,” Suo replies with a smile on his face. “Or maybe it could be from the appalling stench these green jacket men give off.”

Nirei lets out an ‘eep’, and quickly looks around to see if anyone heard them. He grips the phone in his hand tighter in stress. “Please, Suo-san, if you’re going to insult someone, do it at a smaller volume!”

“Haha,” Suo’s eye takes in their surroundings again, desperately trying to find any sign of Sakura. He ignores the hints of black and white and gold that haunts his vision, knowing that he can’t trust his visual instincts anymore.

He has to trust that his soul knows who he’s searching for.

A series of rough yells interrupt his thoughts, and Nirei runs off to check out the source of the disruption. Before Suo can do the same, someone bumps into him.

Without thinking about it, his hands swoop out to catch the figure by the waist, steadying them back onto their feet. The color of hand-spun gold assaults his senses, and his stomach swoops thinking of an equally gold eye.

“Miss, are you okay?” Suo asks the girl in his arms, who only nods and then steps away from him. Or, tries to step away from him. For some reason unknown to him, his hands refuse to budge, planting firmly on the lithe waist of the person in front of him. It seems his body is acting out of its own accord?

He eyes the girl, trying to see why his eye can’t seem to leave her figure, and acknowledges that she is most definitely very beautiful, but not his type.

With fluffy blonde curls running down her back, along with pink lips and flushed cheeks, she could bring any of the guys back at Bofurin to their knees. The only thing off about her is the sunglasses she wears even if it’s not that sunny right now, but her fancy outfit simply makes it seem like it’s part of her style.

An elegant and flowy white blouse is tucked into a short black skirt with two layers of ruffles, its sides tied up with crisscrossed ribbons. Her long legs are wrapped within a layer of thin black stockings, and the only pop of color in her whole wardrobe is the bright red heels donned on her feet.

Under Suo’s silent staring, the girl starts to redden and pulls her pouty lips into a snarl. Suo is taken with how her soft cheeks seem to blush in a way that he knows but can’t seem to place from where, and her hands reach to manually pull Suo’s hands off her. Suo lets it happen, but tenses when skin meets skin.

He knows those hands, remembers familiar fingertips stroking his hair in unsure but gentle movements. In a blink of an eye, he grabs her- no, his hand in an unforgiving grip, and desperately brings it to his mouth, his lips gently pecking the callouses he knows is there by heart.

“Sakura-chan,” Suo says, smiling against adorably twitching fingers. “I didn’t know you were in the area. Do you come here often?”

“Shut the fuck up, bastard.” Sakura rips his hand out of his grip, jumping back like a startled cat while roughly removing his sunglasses. Gold and silver eyes meet his, and Suo finds his heart relaxing. ‘There you are,’ he thinks.

Suo stalks forward, and he doesn’t know what expression he’s making, but it prompts Sakura to lift his leg in preparation for a flying kick, skirt fluttering with the movement. In a flash, Suo is in his space, one hand lowering a silky thigh back onto the ground and the other used to pinch Sakura’s chin in between his fingers.

“Sakura-chan,” Suo teases him, but his jaw is clenched tightly. “Don’t mess up your skirt before we finish the mission, okay?” His fingers burn where it handles the bulk of Sakura’s thigh, stocking gliding across his skin. He snatches his hand back and away once Sakura’s foot stays firmly planted on the ground. Ah, he feels like he’s being burnt alive.

Sakura blinks at him, mascara-lined eyelashes making the action look docile. “Fine.”

Sakura has that constipated look of confusion that always means he has something he wants but doesn’t know how to put into words. Suo’s too distracted at how his bottom lip juts out, glossy and pink. He wants to bite it.

He angles Sakura’s face higher to meet his, and asks him, “What do you need, Sakura? Tell me and it’s yours.”

Sakura makes a little sound at that, soft and barely there. Suo has the desire to bottle it up and luxuriate on its taste on a nice afternoon.

“I need your phone,” Sakura says, and Suo hands it to him before he can finish his sentence. “To type in the coordi- oi! I haven’t even told you what I needed it for!”

“I said I would give you whatever you asked for, right? Go ahead, type it in.” Sakura glares at him a moment longer, cheeks once again coloring that lovely pink hue, and starts impatiently clicking on his phone.

Suo takes this time to admire him with a new perspective, eyeing the cinched waist framed by ribbons that he now knows fits perfectly between his hands. His eye goes further down to the slim calves that despite its soft appearance, is made out of pure muscle, and feels his gums itch. He wants to remove the stockings off with his teeth.

Through it all, his face remains with a placid smile, all while trying to squash the urge to be stepped on with Sakura’s delicate ankles and red heels.

Truly, the things meditation can do for you.

“Done,” Sakura announces, snapping Suo from his thoughts. He takes a deep breath and turns to face him, hand outstretched to receive back the phone. “I need to leave soon before the green fuckers realize something’s off.”

Sakura hands him the phone, and he expected the other to let go, but instead, he lightly holds Suo’s hand in a loose grip. “Thank you for proving me wrong, Suo.”

Mismatched eyes looking like freshly bloomed sundrops and liquid moonlight twinkle with something happy in them, and soft lips pull up into a small smile.

Twang!

Suo can vividly feel the arrow piercing his heart, and the back of his neck starts to heat up with a furious blush.

Before he can reply, Sakura is gone in a whirlwind of ruffles and ribbons, the clacking of his heels eventually fading. Suo doesn’t know how long he spends staring after him, but it’s certainly long enough for Nirei to come back, out of breath and pointing at the same direction where Sakura ran off to.

“Suo-san! Three green jacket men are on the move to what I assume is their secondary base, but they started making a ruckus because of some girl? I don’t know what’s going on but the we need to find Sakura-san right now!” Nirei wheezes out, sweat dripping off his face.

“Sakura?” Suo dazedly mutters, phone clutched in his hand. “I already met him while you were gone. It seems he snuck away from the three men to come find us, which was why they threw a fit. He should be back with them right about now, and already on the way to their main base.”

“Okay, so we-” Nirei’s eyes widen. “What do you mean you met Sakura-san?! And- the girl? Sakura-san was the girl?”

“Yes,” Suo clarifies. “A blonde girl with red heels. Keep your eyes out for her.”

“A-alright! Um, where should we go now?”

Suo carefully studies the location inputed on the map and narrows his eye with a sharp smile. "Ah, it seems like we're heading towards Shishitoren's territory. I hope Sakura-kun doesn't bump into any starving lions."

Nirei frantically flips through his notebook. "Lions?!"

"Well, not lions," Suo admits with a cold eye. "Just one singular beast who's been eyeing our dense leader for a while now.”

“But knowing his luck, Sakura-kun’s probably going to walk straight into his hungry mouth.”

Nirei looks like he’s about to shit himself, hands trembling around his notebook. Suo simply laughs, and starts heading out the Red-light district.

After all, where Sakura goes, how can his two vices not follow?