Work Text:
The air in the bar was heavy, tension crackling like static electricity. Ichiban slouched at the table, arms crossed, face stormy. They had just come off a tough job—something with too many complications, too much violence. It had put him in a mood that none of the usual jokes or distractions could lift. Nanba, sitting across from him, watched with concern.
Yu Nanba didn’t often like to poke the bear, especially not when Ichiban was stewing in one of these moods. But he was tired of the brooding silence filling the room. Everyone else had kept their distance, even Adachi, who was sipping his drink quietly. Nanba shifted in his seat and decided to give it a shot.
“Oi, Ichiban,” Nanba called out, his voice light and teasing. “You’re sulking like you just found out they canceled all your favorite pachinko machines. What’s next? Gonna start crying?”
Adachi shot him a side-eye, like he knew it wasn’t the best time for jokes, but Nanba kept going. “If this is about losing at Dragon Kart again, don’t worry, man. We all know you’re not the sharpest tool in the shed, but that’s not news.”
Ichiban, without warning, stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. The room went deathly quiet. Nanba blinked up at him, confused.
“What the hell did you just say?” Ichiban’s voice was low, simmering with something dangerous. His hands balled into fists.
Nanba chuckled awkwardly, still thinking it was all in jest. “I’m just messing with you, man. Relax, okay? I didn’t mean—”
Before Nanba could finish, Ichiban’s fist collided with his jaw, sending him stumbling back into his chair. The crack of the punch echoed through the bar, and Nanba’s head snapped to the side, dazed. He tried to raise a hand, tried to protest, but Ichiban wasn’t listening. His face was contorted with fury, and he moved in again, raining punches down on Nanba without mercy.
“Ichiban!” Adachi yelled, jumping to his feet, but Ichiban kept going, his fists relentless, like each strike was something more than just frustration.
Nanba’s arms came up in a weak attempt to shield himself, but the blows kept coming. One hit him square in the face, shattering his glasses. Another knocked the wind out of him, and he gasped, struggling to stay conscious as his body slumped to the ground.
“Why don’t you say that again, huh?!” Ichiban’s voice was harsh, raw, like he wasn’t even aware of what he was doing.
Nanba didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Blood dripped from his nose, his lip split open. His head was spinning, everything around him blurry. His heart was pounding in his chest, not from the pain, but from the sheer disbelief. Ichiban… why?
Adachi finally managed to pull Ichiban off, yanking him back by the arms with all his strength. “That’s enough! Ichiban, that’s enough! Stop!”
It took a second for the fog to lift from Ichiban’s eyes. His breath came in ragged gasps, and he blinked as if he didn’t know where he was. When he saw Nanba crumpled on the floor, bloodied and shaking, his eyes widened in horror.
“Nanba?” His voice cracked. “Oh god… N-Nanba, I didn’t mean to—” He reached out, trying to help him up, but Nanba scrambled back, eyes wide and filled with something Ichiban had never seen before. Fear. Pure, raw fear.
“Stay away from me!” Nanba’s voice was sharp, panicked. He struggled to his feet, holding his side, his hand trembling as it reached up to his broken glasses. “Ichiban… why?” he whispered, voice trembling, eyes glassy with tears. His lip quivered, his legs barely holding him up. “Why… would you do that?”
Ichiban’s heart sank, guilt flooding through him as the weight of what he’d done came crashing down. “Nanba, I… I don’t know what— I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear! I’m sorry, man, I—” He stepped forward, but Nanba stumbled back, his hands up like he was warding off a monster.
“I said stay away!” Nanba’s voice cracked, and for a moment, he looked so small, so vulnerable that it made Ichiban’s chest ache. “I… I trusted you.” His voice broke on the last word, his eyes wet and desperate. “You were my friend, Ichiban…”
Ichiban reached out again, his hand trembling. “Nanba, please, let me explain—”
Nanba shook his head, backing up toward the door, his movements stiff and disoriented. “I need to go,” he muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. His breath was ragged, and he wiped at his bleeding face with his sleeve. “I need… I need to get out of here.”
“Nanba, wait!” Ichiban’s voice was filled with desperation, but Nanba didn’t look back. He turned and bolted out the door, disappearing into the night.
Ichiban stood frozen, staring after him, the blood from his knuckles drying in the dim bar light. Adachi stood beside him, his face grim but silent, giving Ichiban space to process what had just happened.
Ichiban’s hands dropped to his sides, feeling empty. “What the hell did I do…?” he whispered to no one, his heart heavy with regret.
Ichiban stood there, his mind racing, as the door swung shut behind Nanba, the sound echoing in the now-silent bar. His body felt cold, his hands still clenched but trembling now, guilt like a heavy weight pressing on his chest.
“Shit…” he muttered, staring at the ground, at the faint traces of Nanba’s blood on the floor. How did things go so wrong? He just lost control… he hadn’t even thought—What the hell is wrong with me?
Adachi, still by his side, finally spoke, his voice calm but carrying an edge of disappointment. “What the hell were you thinking, Ichiban? He was just joking, for crying out loud.”
“I know,” Ichiban mumbled, his voice hollow. “I know, I just…” He clenched his fists again, looking at the door like he could somehow fix everything if he just ran after Nanba. But his legs wouldn’t move.
Adachi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, looking exhausted. “I get that you’re pissed off, but you just laid into him like he was some kind of punching bag. This isn’t you, man.”
Ichiban winced, the shame hitting him harder than any punch ever had. “I know, Adachi-san… I don’t know what came over me. I just… snapped.” He ran a hand through his hair, tugging at it in frustration. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt him like that.”
“Yeah, well, you did,” Adachi said bluntly. “You really did.”
Ichiban’s head hung low, the full weight of his actions crushing him. Nanba’s terrified expression kept flashing in his mind, the way he had backed away, bloodied and broken, looking at him like he was some kind of monster. That look—it was worse than any punch, worse than any insult.
“You saw his face, right? He was scared, Ichiban. Of you,” Adachi said, his voice softer now, trying to get through to him. “That’s not something that just goes away.”
“I know,” Ichiban croaked, swallowing hard. His throat felt tight, his chest aching. “I don’t know how I can face him after this…”
“You’re gonna have to,” Adachi said. “But right now, I think you need to give him some space. Let him cool off.”
Ichiban was quiet for a long time, just standing there, staring at the door like Nanba might walk back through it any second. But he didn’t. And Ichiban wasn’t sure he ever would.
After a while, Adachi put a hand on his shoulder, giving him a gentle push. “Go home, Ichiban. Get some rest. This’ll be worse if you’re all wound up. When you’re ready, we’ll figure this out.”
Ichiban didn’t move at first, still staring, still lost in the maze of his own thoughts. But eventually, he nodded, his body feeling heavy, like it was moving through water. Without another word, he walked out of the bar, leaving the mess behind him.
Nanba ran through the streets, his breath coming in ragged gasps, the night air stinging his lungs and his vision blurry from the blood and the tears he refused to let fall. He didn’t know where he was going—he just had to get away. Away from Ichiban, away from the bar, away from everything.
His head was pounding, his face throbbing from the blows, but the physical pain was nothing compared to the hurt that burned in his chest. He had always known Ichiban was strong, had seen him fight countless times, but he had never thought… never imagined that strength would be turned on him.
The image of Ichiban, eyes blazing with anger, fists raised—it wouldn’t leave his mind. It was like a nightmare he couldn’t wake up from.
Why? he thought desperately. Why did he do that? What did I do to make him… hate me?
He stumbled to a stop, his legs shaking, and leaned against a wall, clutching at his side. He could feel the warm blood trickling down from his split lip, could taste the coppery tang in his mouth. His broken glasses hung loosely on his face, one lens completely shattered. He pulled them off, tossing them to the ground with a sharp cry of frustration.
“Dammit…” he muttered, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. He wasn’t sure if it was the blood or the tears that blurred his vision. Maybe both.
For a moment, he just stood there, leaning against the cold brick, his breath ragged. He felt small, smaller than he had in a long time. All the anger he had been holding onto since his days on the streets, all the bitterness… it had all melted away in the face of the raw hurt he felt now. Hurt because Ichiban had meant more to him than he’d ever admitted. Ichiban had been his friend—no, more than that. He’d been the one person who made him feel like he wasn’t alone in this messed-up world.
And now? Now all he could feel was the sting of betrayal.
“Why, Ichiban?” Nanba whispered to the night, his voice barely audible, his body trembling with exhaustion and emotion. “Why would you do this?”
He didn’t have an answer. And he wasn’t sure if he ever would.
Back in his apartment, Ichiban sat on the edge of his bed, his hands still shaking, staring down at his bruised knuckles. The blood on them wasn’t his.
He felt sick. His stomach churned, and his mind wouldn’t stop replaying the moment Nanba had looked up at him, bloodied and broken, with that look—that look—of fear. He couldn’t stop seeing it. It was burned into his memory, seared into his heart.
“I’m sorry…” he whispered to the empty room, his voice thick with guilt. But there was no one there to hear him.
And for the first time in a long while, Ichiban Kasuga felt truly alone.
Ichiban couldn’t sit still any longer. The crushing weight of guilt was suffocating him, and sitting in that empty room felt like punishment. He stared at the door to his apartment, knowing what he had to do but feeling the fear gnaw at him.
What if he doesn’t want to see me? What if I make it worse?
But Ichiban knew running away wasn’t the answer. Not this time. He had to find Nanba. He had to make this right, no matter how impossible it felt. He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and rushed out the door, his heart pounding as he hit the streets.
The night air was cold against his skin, but it did little to clear his head. His mind raced as he walked through the city, scanning every alley, every street corner, hoping—praying—he’d find Nanba somewhere.
It wasn’t until he reached a quiet, dimly lit street near one of the parks that he spotted him. Nanba was slumped against a wall, his knees pulled up to his chest, his face buried in his arms. Even from a distance, Ichiban could see the blood smeared across Nanba’s face, the broken glasses lying discarded beside him, and his heart clenched with regret.
Ichiban stopped for a moment, just staring. The urge to run to him, to apologize, to beg for forgiveness was overwhelming, but he could see the pain in the way Nanba sat there, so still, so broken.
Taking a deep breath, Ichiban approached slowly, his footsteps almost silent on the pavement. “Nanba,” he called out, his voice soft, careful, like he was afraid of shattering whatever fragile peace Nanba had found.
Nanba’s head jerked up, his eyes wide and full of panic the moment he saw Ichiban. He scrambled to his feet, staggering back against the wall like a cornered animal.
“Nanba, wait—” Ichiban raised his hands, trying to show he wasn’t a threat, but the look on Nanba’s face hit him like a punch to the gut.
“Stay back,” Nanba’s voice trembled, the fear clear as day. He wiped his bloodied face with his sleeve, wincing as he tried to catch his breath. “I-I’m serious, Ichiban. Don’t come any closer.”
Ichiban stopped in his tracks, his hands still up, a deep ache settling in his chest. He could see it now, clear as day—the terror in Nanba’s eyes, the way his body shook from a mix of pain and exhaustion. This wasn’t something that would be fixed with a quick apology. He had broken something between them, something that might not be repairable.
“Nanba,” Ichiban started, his voice hoarse. “I know I screwed up. I know I hurt you. I—God, I’m so sorry, man. I don’t know what came over me. I just… I lost it.” He took a shaky breath, his eyes pleading. “I didn’t mean to… I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I swear, I wasn’t thinking. Please, just let me explain.”
Nanba didn’t move, his eyes flickering between Ichiban’s face and his hands. His breathing was uneven, and Ichiban could see the way he was struggling to stay composed. He wasn’t just hurt physically—this was something deeper. The betrayal, the disbelief, it was all there in the way Nanba’s eyes shone with unshed tears.
“You… you really don’t get it, do you?” Nanba’s voice was quieter now, but there was a sharp edge to it, a bitterness that Ichiban hadn’t heard before. “I trusted you, Ichiban. I thought you had my back. After everything we’ve been through, I thought… I thought you were my friend.”
“I am your friend!” Ichiban’s voice cracked, the desperation seeping through. “I wasn’t thinking, Nanba. I was mad, and I—”
“Mad at what?” Nanba interrupted, his voice rising as he stared at Ichiban with disbelief. “Mad at me? You seriously thought I was trying to piss you off that badly? For what, a stupid joke?”
Ichiban flinched, his eyes dropping to the ground. “I don’t know. I wasn’t thinking straight, okay? I was just… I lost it, and I shouldn’t have.” He looked up again, his eyes meeting Nanba’s. “I shouldn’t have hurt you. I know that.”
Nanba shook his head, a bitter laugh escaping him as he wiped at the blood on his face again, his sleeve already stained. “You think saying sorry fixes this? You think that just because you didn’t mean it, that it makes it better?”
Ichiban stepped forward, his heart aching at the distance between them, but Nanba immediately took another step back, pressing against the wall as if he couldn’t stand to be near him. “Nanba, please, let me—”
“I said stay away!” Nanba shouted, his voice breaking as he shoved a hand out, trying to keep Ichiban at a distance. His breath hitched, and for a moment, Ichiban thought he was going to cry. “I don’t… I don’t want to hear it, Ichiban. I don’t want your apology.”
“Nanba…” Ichiban whispered, the words catching in his throat. He didn’t know what to say, how to fix this. Nothing he said would take away the fear in Nanba’s eyes, the pain in his voice. And that crushed him.
For a long, painful moment, they just stood there, the silence between them unbearable. Finally, Nanba broke it, his voice quieter now, defeated. “Do you even know what it felt like?” he whispered, his hands trembling at his sides. “Do you know what it feels like to have someone you trust—someone you care about—turn on you like that? Just… beat you down like you’re nothing?”
Ichiban’s throat tightened, and his heart twisted painfully. He had no answer. He couldn’t even imagine what Nanba had felt in that moment. The fear, the betrayal. He wanted to take it all back, to undo it somehow, but he couldn’t.
“I never thought you’d hurt me, Ichiban,” Nanba whispered, his eyes watery, but his voice filled with hurt. “I never thought you’d make me feel like… like I didn’t matter.”
Ichiban’s chest ached with regret, his voice barely a whisper as he took a shaky step forward, keeping his hands up in surrender. “You do matter. You matter more than anything, Nanba. I’m so sorry… I don’t know how to make this right, but I swear to you, I’ll do whatever it takes. Please… just don’t walk away.”
Nanba looked at him for a long moment, his eyes searching Ichiban’s face, but the fear and hurt were still there, raw and real. He wiped at his face again, the blood and tears mixing on his sleeve, and he shook his head.
“I don’t know if I can trust you right now,” he said softly, his voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know if I can be around you after what you did.”
Those words hit Ichiban like a punch to the gut. He stood frozen, his heart in his throat, as Nanba turned away, his shoulders slumped in defeat.
“Nanba, please…” Ichiban’s voice was barely a whisper, but Nanba didn’t turn around. He didn’t look back.
Without another word, Nanba walked away, disappearing into the night.
And Ichiban was left standing there, alone, the weight of his actions crushing him all over again.
Ichiban stood frozen on the street long after Nanba had disappeared from sight, guilt hanging over him like a storm cloud. He couldn’t believe how badly he’d messed things up. The thought of Nanba, his face bloodied, backing away in fear, was enough to make his stomach churn. He didn’t want to let it end like this—not with Nanba walking away from him.
I have to fix this, he thought, his fists clenched at his sides. I have to find him.
Determined, Ichiban started moving again, his eyes scanning the streets for any sign of Nanba. The night had deepened, and the streets had grown quieter, but he wasn’t giving up. He knew Nanba had to be somewhere nearby. He’d never leave without a plan, not with his glasses broken, and in the state he was in.
As Ichiban made his way toward the darker alleys behind the park, a sudden shout caught his attention. His heart skipped a beat.
“Let go of me!” The voice was faint but unmistakable. It was Nanba.
Without thinking, Ichiban broke into a sprint, rounding the corner of the alley where the sound had come from. His heart raced as he spotted two men, one holding Nanba against the wall, the other rummaging through his pockets. Nanba struggled, but he was still weak, his bruised face scrunched in pain, his body too exhausted to put up much of a fight.
“Hey!” Ichiban bellowed, his voice thunderous as he charged forward, adrenaline surging through his veins. The two muggers looked up, startled, but Ichiban was already on them before they could react.
The first man swung a fist, but Ichiban ducked under it, delivering a powerful blow to the man’s gut. The mugger staggered back, winded, before collapsing to the ground. The second man, panicking, dropped Nanba and tried to make a run for it, but Ichiban caught him by the collar, slamming him against the wall.
“Not so fast, asshole,” Ichiban growled, his eyes blazing with fury. He pulled the guy close, snarling in his face. “You touch him again, and I swear I’ll—”
“Ichiban!”
Nanba’s weak voice cut through the haze of Ichiban’s anger, snapping him back to reality. He let go of the mugger, shoving him away before watching him stumble and run off, disappearing into the shadows.
Breathing heavily, Ichiban turned to Nanba, his heart pounding in his chest. “Nanba… are you okay?”
Nanba was slumped against the wall, his body shaking from the adrenaline and pain. His glasses were nowhere to be seen, his lip still bleeding, and his eyes wide with shock. He nodded faintly, his voice hoarse. “Y-Yeah… I’m okay, I think.”
Ichiban rushed to his side, kneeling down in front of him. His hands hovered, unsure whether to reach out or keep his distance. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse. “I’m sorry, man… I’m so, so sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Nanba’s breath was uneven, and for a moment, he just looked at Ichiban, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion, fear, and something else—something softer. “Why’d you come after me?” he asked quietly.
Ichiban swallowed hard, his throat tight. “Because I couldn’t let it end like that. I hurt you, Nanba, and I’ll never forgive myself for that. But I couldn’t just let you go. You’re my friend. More than that. You’ve been there for me more times than I can count, and I… I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you because of me.”
Nanba’s gaze softened slightly, though the pain was still there. He glanced down at his bruised hands, the blood smeared across his sleeve. “You really did a number on me back there,” he muttered, trying for a weak smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
Ichiban winced, his guilt crashing over him again. “I know. And I hate myself for it. You were just joking, and I… I was too stupid to realize it. I didn’t think. I let my anger get the best of me, and I hurt you—someone I care about more than anything. I don’t know how to make it up to you, but I swear, I’ll try.”
For a long moment, Nanba was quiet, his eyes flicking away from Ichiban’s, like he was thinking. Finally, he sighed, wincing as the movement pulled at his bruises. “You really are an idiot, you know that?” There was no real bite in his words, just exhaustion, maybe a hint of sadness.
Ichiban lowered his head, his shoulders slumping. “Yeah… I know. I deserve that.”
Nanba let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I wasn’t finished.” He paused, looking at Ichiban again, his eyes tired but not angry anymore. “But… you’re also the only idiot I’d ever trust to come after me like this. Even when I told you to stay away, you still… saved my ass.”
Ichiban’s heart leapt in his chest. “Nanba…”
Nanba gave him a weary smile, wiping at the blood on his lip. “I don’t know if I’m ready to just… forget what happened tonight. But I know you’re not a bad guy, Ichiban. I know you didn’t mean to hurt me. I’ve been in some dark places too, you know? Sometimes we lash out at the people closest to us.”
Ichiban’s eyes stung, and he blinked back the tears threatening to spill. “I swear, I’ll never hurt you like that again, man. I don’t care how angry I get—I won’t ever lay a hand on you.”
Nanba looked at him for a moment longer before nodding slowly. “I believe you. But… maybe let’s take it one step at a time, okay?”
Ichiban nodded vigorously, his chest aching with relief. “Yeah, of course. Whatever you need. I’ll make this right, Nanba.”
A long silence stretched between them, but this time, it wasn’t tense or painful. It was a quiet understanding, a tentative peace forming between them. Finally, Nanba sighed, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.
“Damn, I could really use a drink after all this,” he muttered, a weak chuckle escaping him.
Ichiban laughed softly, his heart lighter than it had been all night. “You and me both, buddy.”
He hesitated for a moment before carefully reaching out, gently placing a hand on Nanba’s shoulder. Nanba didn’t flinch this time, just glanced at him with tired eyes.
“We’ll get through this, Nanba,” Ichiban said quietly, his voice full of sincerity. “I promise.”
Nanba didn’t say anything at first, just nodded faintly. But the small smile tugging at his lips was enough for Ichiban.
Together, they sat there in the quiet alley, the air cool around them, but the weight between them slowly lifting. There was still a lot to work through, a lot of pain that wouldn’t go away overnight. But they would get through it.
Because that’s what true friends do.